"John and Elaine Grey cordially invite you to attend the wedding of their daughter
Jean to Scott Summers, son of Christopher and Katherine Summers"
Rogue set the invitation down hard enough for the cardboard to snap against the wood.
She sat at the dining room table and glared at the responsible person. "What is this? Some kind of joke? You hate me, always will, remember?"
Scott placed a soothing hand over his fiancée's clenched fist and replied, "Rogue, we don't hate you..."
"Never said I was talking to you, Cyke." She kept her eyes pointedly locked on Jean's and watched the anger there blaze colder than a hailstorm.
"Let me guess," she said, somewhat bitterly, "you invited everyone else and couldn't *not* invite me without being rude, right?"
Scott's eyes flickered to Logan for a long, humming second, then returned to hers, and she understood what had been unsaid; he hadn't wanted to invite Logan, Jean hadn't wanted to invite her, yet their upbringing had forced them to ask both. Manners come to the forefront again, she thought, grateful that she, for the most part, didn't have any. At least, not the civil 'I'll-make-small-talk-because-it's-polite-but-what-I'd-really-like-to-do-is-scratch-your-eyes-out' sort.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Logan get up and stalk from the room. After a brief moment of hesitation, she stood and -- after shooting another razor-sharp glare at the engaged couple -- ran after him.
In the corridor she just caught site of his jacket before he disappeared up the stairs, and she followed him. She raced up the steps, but saw only the heel of his boot as he turned the corner. However heavy his skeleton was, she thought, out of breath, he could move as silent and swift as a panther when the need arose. Or should that be when the mood struck?
Somehow she couldn't imagine the great Wolverine needing anyone or anything.
She saw his jeans-clad leg as he climbed through the window onto the roof, and just about threw herself through the opening so as not to lose his trail.
He sat on the roof, back resting against the tiles, one eyebrow quirked at her hasty entrance. She pulled herself up and settled down next to him.
He pulled out a lighter and cigar, offered one of the latter to her. When she shook her head he bit the tip of the cigar off, lit it and inhaled, deeply.
On exhaling, he stared out at the clear blue sky and flicked ash off the roof. She wondered idly if anyone was walking below and, if they were, what they'd think of a sudden rainfall of ash. Probably think the end of the world was coming, she thought with a stifled giggle, complete with hellfire and brimstone.
Another inhale and exhale, then he said, noncommittally, "so, why're you up here?"
"To talk to you."
"How'd you know where I was?"
Not wanting to admit she'd chased after him like a schoolgirl with a crush, she shrugged. Then said, "I figure you and I, we have a lot in common."
He glanced at her askance, eyebrow cocked. "What, you also have the hots for Jeannie?"
She snickered at that. "Yeah, that's why we don't get along - all that sexual tension."
He grinned.
"No, seriously? I just... feel a little alone sometimes. Jean and Scott and the Professor blame me for killing Carol, and I know you did too at first, but I feel different around you, like you're being honest with me. The Professor and Scott and most everyone else pretend they're over it, that they don't think it's my fault any more, but I can see they do. Jean, at least she's open about it. She doesn't claim that she's my friend or anything, so I guess I should be thankful for that, but it just kind of intensifies that feeling, y'know?"
"What feeling?"
The fact that he hadn't disagreed with anything she'd said didn't escape her notice, and she allowed herself a little smirk, because somehow she'd known that he'd respond that way. She reached over and grabbed the cigar from him, took a drag, then released a cloudy breath. "The feeling of being without."
"Hmmm." He grunted, neutral to the last.
She handed him his cigar and continued, "I mean, I know it's a 'self-imposed isolation', but being aware of that doesn't help much when I want to talk to someone and there's... no-one. The thing is, nobody really knows me -- not that they want to -- and I get the feeling sometimes that no-one sees the real you. It's like, you act all... heartbroken and in love with Jean, but aren't either, I can see that just by looking into your eyes, *really* looking. It makes me wonder... what are you hiding?"
"You act rebellious and angry, like you're pissed at the world, but from what you've said, you're just lonely. What are *you* hiding?" He countered, completely evading the Jean-issue.
She pretended to be affronted, and ignored the lonely part. "Hey! I *am* rebellious and angry, I am one angry rebel."
He laughed and looked disbelieving. "Uh-huh, I'm sure you are, James."
"James?"
"Dean," he said, looking at her expectantly.
She raised both her brows and nodded sagely, "Ahhh.... well, that explains everything. Really, it does. In a big way. I mean James Dean was a...a rebel, an *angry* rebel. Yeah."
"And you've never heard of James Dean before, have you? Sometimes I forget how young everyone else is."
"Age ain't nothin' but a number, time ain't nothin' a thing..." she sang softly.
He winced and she grinned, knowing that her voice was beyond awful, but she loved to sing and didn't really care what anyone else thought about it.
"I can't remember where that comes from, but it seemed appropriate."
He grunted again and they sat in companionable silence until one of the kids downstairs turned up the stereo and an energetic beat pulsed through the air.
"On your own and though you feel alone
You are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
All alone into this world we're thrown
You are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
On your own and though you feel alone
You are alive
Don't you know it's just another day"
She smiled and glanced over at him. "So, you feel alive yet?"
He grinned and crushed the cigar stump into the roof, then tossed it onto the ground below. "I don't know. Maybe. But I have the feeling," he said, gazing at her with eyes she couldn't quite read, "that you're going to help me with that."
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and rested her head, tentatively, against his shoulder, felt a slight prickling over her skin, as though her body had been numb and was slowly recovering sensation. Life, she thought with a contentment she hadn't believed she'd ever have, is returning at last.
You Are Alive - Fragma
You're doing fine, most of the time
You sit and wonder what tomorrow brings
All kinds of things
You sit and wait, you hesitate
Just like you've never been in love before
There's so much more
On your own and though you feel alone
You are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
All alone into this world we're thrown
You are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
On your own and though you feel alone
You are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
You turn around, you're lost and found
Looking for someone who will understand
Or hold your hand
You count the days, a hopeless case
But for the first time you will wait for me
Patiently
On your own and though you feel alone
You are alive, you are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
All alone into this world we're thrown
You are alive, you are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
On your own and though you feel alone
You are alive, you are alive
Don't you know it's just another day
On your own and though you feel alone
You are alive, you are alive
Don't you know it's just another day"
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Author's Chapter Notes:
You Are Alive is my favourite song right now; never fails to shove me into a happy mood. Thanks to my lovely and talented previewers, namely Karen, Caroline, and WW -- oops, sorry, Helena. Dedicated to Caroline, whose knack for forgetting her age (wouldn't we all like to have that ability? *g*) makes me envious ;)