She started screaming, she realized, when she saw the mansion loom before her. She didn't realize she was doing it until she heard the disembodied voice and recognized it as her own.
Jean saw her first. She ran up to her and begged her to calm down, to tell her what was going on. Rogue breathed unsteadily, managing to say Logan was hurt. Scott was suddenly next to them, and Rogue wondered briefly if Jean had called him. He asked where Logan was and, when she couldn't quite get the information out, Jean probed her mind and retrieved it from her. The look that flashed across her face was enough to let Rogue know she'd seen more than Rogue wanted her to.
Scott was already running down the path, but Jean remained by Rogue's side. "Do you want to tell me?" she asked.
Rogue was flushed, but she had calmed herself enough to speak. "What for? You saw all there was to it, didn't you?"
Jean shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Rogue cut her off. "It's my fault."
"It's not your fault, Rogue."
"I should have left him alone."
"You didn't know."
Rogue dropped down onto the soft, green grass that encircled the mansion so perfectly. "I wanted more."
Jean, the telepath, was surprised. "What?"
Dropping her eyes, Rogue pretended to inspect the blades that surrounded her. "I saw him, lying there, because of me, and I wanted more. I could still feel his lips on mine, his touch and I wanted more. Even though he was lying unconscious at my feet. What kind of person does that make me?"
"Human."
One half of Rogue's mouth crooked up in a pained smile. "I can still feel what he was feeling. And I like it. And it hurts and scares me at the same time."
Jean leaned down and pressed a hand on the girl's shoulder. Suddenly, bone claws slid out of Rogue's hands and it was excruciatingly painful and, somehow, just what she needed. She felt Jean move back instinctively. "I won't hurt you. He wouldn't ever hurt you. He loves you, you know."
"Oh, Rogue. I'm so sorry."
Rogue almost smirked, but thinking the gesture was the Wolverine inside of her, she stopped. She shook her head, trying to quiet his influence, when she realized that what she wanted to say was completely her own. "Why are you sorry? Because he wants you and won't take second best? Because I'm second best?"
Jean's face was hard suddenly and Rogue thought she'd hit a soft spot. Jean's words made her see how wrong she was. "I'm sorry because you're too blind to see what's right in front of you, in your own mind Rogue. I'm sorry because you've been so deprived of touch, you reject the idea you inspire desire in anyone." Jean sighed and her face softened. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears and Rogue wondered who they were meant for. "What you see in Logan's head isn't reserved for me, Rogue. And you're going to have to deal with that somehow."
Rogue began to cry then, because nothing she was thinking or anyone was saying, was making any sense. She felt Jean guide her up, walk her slowly to the mansion. They made the long trek together to Rogue's room. All the while, Rogue continued to cry and her claws remained unsheathed.
Rogue felt the soft bed beneath her, and cried still. She cried for herself, she cried for Logan, she cried because she didn't know what else to do.
When Jean left her alone, she took her claws and tried smashing things with them. The cuts they made where uneven, and the feeling tore through her entire body. The physical pain intensified the emotional one, and she fell onto her bed again.
The tears stung her eyes and she could feel the first signs of a headache building. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
She didn't stop crying until she fell asleep and her claws slid back into oblivion.
Logan awoke with a start, his eyes flying open, and claws released and ready. Then, he remembered where he was and why he was there, and he relaxed back into the gurney.
Logan.
Shit.
"What?"
"I thought we might discuss why you're here this time around."
"Look, Chuck, I think I know enough not to try that again. There's no reason to discuss it."
"Logan." The voice was sharp enough to garner Logan's attention. "We will talk about what happened today." Charles Xavier sighed and maneuvered his wheel chair so he was directly facing the man on the gurney. "This isn't about you so much as it is about Rogue. I am concerned for her well-being."
"So am I."
Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Are you? Your display this morning suggests otherwise."
"It was a mistake."
"Yes. My question to you is: what are you going to do to correct it?"
Logan sat up, slowly rubbing his hands across his face. After a moment, he responded, "Leave."
"You've come to disrupt her life, Logan, and your solution is leaving?"
"What do you suggest I do?" The question was tinged with sarcasm.
Xavier simply responded, "Talk to her." When Logan rolled his eyes, Xavier continued. "Tell her just what occurred. Explain to her why it happened, why you're sorry. You can't leave her without that much."
Logan jumped angrily from the gurney, instantly sorry because he was still light-headed. The floor was cold beneath his feet and he was more than a little annoyed with the entire situation. "Why don't I ever get a shirt when I'm in here, Chuck? It's cold as hell." Logan glanced over at the professor but was only met with an unsettling gaze. Logan suddenly felt like his mind was being read. "No dice. Get out of there."
"What will you tell her?"
Crossing his arms, Logan answered, "I don't know. I don't even know what happened, so I don't see how I'm going to explain it to her."
"If it was just a momentary -- "
Logan shook his head. "I don't know."
For a moment, Xavier furrowed his brow in consternation, only to return instantly to its normal impassivity. When he asked, "What are your feelings for her?" his face was a blank slate.
Logan, on the other hand, glowered openly. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be sitting here, talking to you."
"It's not fair to her."
"I know that!"
"Then think about what you are doing." Xavier moved towards the automatic door. "If you care about her at all, you will explain your behavior." With that, he moved out of the room, leaving Logan to seethe with frustration.
When she awoke, it was late in the evening, and she was amazed by how much she had slept. She had a terrible headache and she knew, before looking in the mirror, that her eyes and nose were red and puffy. She washed her face, running cold water over it, and that served to refresh her a bit. She looked into the mirror again and stared at her own reflection. Her eyes weren't so red, but even though she'd slept the better part of the day, she still looked worn, tired.
Her stomach growled, and she realized that she was starving. Food hadn't been foremost in her mind, but she definitely needed to eat something. Damn it Rogue, she chastised herself, here you are in the middle of an emotional crisis, and you're thinking about your mama's fried chicken.
She was still wearing her running outfit, and she saw that she needed a shower above all else.
After showering and changing into jeans and a long sleeved blouse, she decided it was time to face the world. If only, God willing, not Logan.
When she went down to the kitchen, she saw how late it really was, closer to ten at night than the seven or so she'd thought it was. The halls had been nearly deserted; most students safely tucked in their rooms or in the rec room, most of the adults out on the town, because it was Friday night.
Once inside the kitchen, she remembered the last time she'd been there so late, and a shudder ran through her body. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and she realized now how he must've viewed her that night. The idea was disconcerting, if not a little exciting.
Rogue rifled though the items in the refrigerator, in the end settling for cereal because she didn't think she could handle Ororo's gumbo so late at night. She was pouring milk into a bowl when she felt someone walk in.
Marie's mother had been a very religious woman, and she'd instilled in her the belief in God, but when Rogue prayed that the person behind her not be Logan with all her heart, and turned around to face the mutton-chopped mutant, she knew there couldn't be a God so cruel.
"Logan," she muttered.
"Hey."
She quickly put the milk away and grabbed for her cereal. "I'll just be getting out of your way."
"No, wait." He took her arm just as she put her hands on the bowl. The gesture alarmed her enough so that she jerked away, the milk and cereal flying out of the bowl, and onto Logan's shirt.
He jumped back, grabbing at his shirt, and growled, "Fuck." Rogue simply put a hand over her mouth, trying to hide the smile that was forming. Anyone else, any other situation, and she would have been rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter. But this was Logan, and she had to get out of there.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Not your fault," he replied, looking squarely into her eyes.
"Um, listen. I'll clean this up. You go ahead and change your shirt." She was already grabbing for a towel as she spoke.
Without saying anything, Logan pulled his shirt over his head and began sopping up the mess with it. Rogue only watched, mouth slightly agape, still holding the towel in hand. "What are you doing?"
" 'S dirty anyhow."
"All right," she said, nervously, not quite sure what to make of his actions. "I'll just be going then, since you've got this taken care of."
Rogue started for the door, hoping that would be the end of it. Before she made it, she felt his hand on her arm. "I came to talk to you."
She stiffened slightly. "Oh? How did you --?"
"I followed your scent." He looked slightly sheepish as he said it. "I went to your room, but you weren't there."
"How industrious," she mumbled. Inhaling deeply, she asked, "What did you want to talk about?"
He was staring at his hand on her arm. "I just . I wanted to say."
She interrupted. "If it's to explain yourself, to apologize or something, don't. I don't want you to be sorry." He looked into her eyes then, surprised. "I'm not sorry. I mean, I'm sorry you got hurt, but I'm not sorry you did it. So, if you've come to apologize, to take it back, save it. It's all right."
"I."
She shook her head. "I am sorry, Logan. I'm sorry I'm not Jean." His hand on her arm tightened, but she continued. "I know it's her you want, and I'm sorry about that. For the both of you. And for me."
He moved closer to her, his broad chest in her line of sight. She was glad of the proximity, but it was doing nothing to steady her nerves. What he said next didn't help either. "I don't want Jean right now."
She had closed her eyes and was breathing him in now, a strange mixture of masculinity and cocoa puffs. She smiled. "You don't?"
"No," he whispered into her hair. As suddenly as the contact had begun, he pulled back. "But I told you I'd protect you."
"So?" she asked, knowing exactly where he was going.
"So, I have to go."
It was her turn to grab at him. Taking his forearms in her gloved hands, she looked directly into his eyes and pleaded. "Logan," she whispered. "This is my only chance. No one else will come near me. If you want me. You must know I want you." His eyes glazed over at that and she felt a little surge of triumph. "I know it's dangerous, and if you're not willing to risk that, I understand. But don't leave because of me. Because you want to protect me. Listen, it doesn't have to be anything more than this, than touch." Her heartbeat had increased rapidly as she was talking and, as she moved her hand over his chest she could feel his heart thump in rhythm.
His hand moved up and he grabbed her hand. She thought he was going to peel it away but instead, he just held it to his chest a while longer. He smiled at her, and for a second, she thought he was going to respond to her proposal. Instead, he kissed her gloved hand, winked, and walked away, leaving her more bewildered than ever.
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