The untouched snow that shrouds the campus buildings in sparkly whites and blues is a welcome sight, and Rogue feels a sense of peace as she stares out the window of the main library.
The entire world looks like a blank canvas this early Saturday morning. She can’t help wishing that her mind could ever be as empty and peaceful as the crisp, snowy ground outside.
She can’t even enjoy the cold weather. She has looked forward to the coming of winter since the semester started in September. It is the one season when she can walk on campus with her friends without feeling large drops of sweat condensing beneath her scarves and gloves, the only barriers she has between her lethal skin and the rest of the world. Instead, November brings her a difficult decision, with consequences that could affect her for the rest of her life.
She doesn’t hear Charles Xavier’s wheelchair gliding along the smoothly polished floors of the library, and she is startled to see his face reflected next to hers in the frosty window.
“Morning, Professor,” she says, “I’m sorry, I was just thinking.” He nods.
“I’d imagine you have a lot to think about,” he tells her, “and I assume you already know the advice that I would give you?” She shrugs. Rogue guesses that the professor would tell her not to go through with it, that her gift makes her special. As if living in constant fear that her skin might accidentally brush someone else’s is a gift. “I think you should tell the doctor that you need more time to decide.” Rogue looks up, startled.
“I only have until January,” she says. The professor is sympathetic, but he will tell her what she needs to hear.
“Altering your DNA probably won’t make things any easier for you, Rogue. If anything, there could be further consequences,” he pauses, “and it certainly won’t make things easier for Bobby.”
“You think this is about Bobby?” Poor Bobby; she has to give him credit for being brave enough to come near her. She grimaces. “I wish Dr. Gray was here,” she finally admits.
“I do too,” the professor agrees, “but I think that she would tell you the same thing I have.” Out of the corner of her eye, Rogue notices a dark shadow trudging through the snow, and she smiles. Wolverine looks most at home against snow and wind.
The professor may very well be literally reading her mind, because the next thing he says is, “I think you should enjoy yourself this weekend. Take some time to figure out if this is really what you want.” He rolls the wheelchair out of the library as silently as he entered, leaving Rogue to continue staring out the window. When Wolverine stops and leans against one of the bare trees that dots the campus, Rogue bolts out of her chair.
She pauses on the front steps only to tighten her scarf around her mouth. The icy air still makes her face and the exposed tips of her ears tingle. Her boots crunch pleasantly in the snow as she sprints, following the larger bootprints that Logan has left. Her own tracks look small and almost childlike next to his.
When she finally catches up to him, she pauses before saying hello. Snow flakes have landed in his messy hair, and his eyelids are lowered over the flame of his cigarette lighter, his rough features softened by the firelight. When he does notice her, he hands her the cigar in his hand without a word. Ever since Liberty Island, Rogue has craved the smell and taste of Logan’s cigars.
She inhales slowly, puffing tiny, circular rings between her rounded lips.
“Where did you learn that?” he asks, grinning with barely concealed amusement.
“From you,” she says simply, handing him the cigar. She rubs her hands over her face, “it’s getting colder. Let’s walk.”
It isn’t until they reach the basketball court that Rogue finally has the courage to tell Logan about the experimental procedure.
“The professor said that it won’t really take away my mutation completely,” she admits, “but it will weaken it. So if I accidentally touch anyone, they’ll just get a headache or something instead of… you know.” Wolverine doesn’t miss the way that she emphasizes the word “accidentally.”
“Are you gonna do it?” he asks. She shrugs, and kicks at the snow with the toe of her boots.
“Haven’t decided yet,” she admits, “don’t know why. It’s not like there’s something great about my ‘gift.’” There isn’t a procedure in the entire world that will quiet the voices in her head. Even Logan’s voice, though not unwelcome, still leaves her confused and with so many questions she hasn’t had the nerve to ask.
Logan chews on the cigar, not sure what to say next. He knows a lot about Rogue and a little bit about Bobby. It’s not too hard to guess why this is so complicated for her.
“You don’t have to do anything, kid,” he says, using the old nickname for her out of habit. He knows it’s weird to call a twenty year old woman “kid,” but some habits never die.
“What else can I do?” she asks.
Logan isn’t sure what he thinks he has proven by removing his black leather gloves and carefully running the back of his knuckles along the delicate skin of Marie’s face, barely grazing her cheeks and chin. She stands still as a statue in the snow, eyelids fluttering as he traces the curves of her face, feeling the sharp pain that courses through his own body. Her scarf falls around her neck.
Logan has never been good with words, but he knows that she can feel everything he is thinking. The touch will make her understand the way he doesn’t want her to change herself for Bobby’s sake, or anyone else’s for that matter.
When he finally leaves, she comes out of the trance, shoving her hands in her coat pockets and watching him leave. The snow is unrecognizable, turning slushy where they have walked. As she begins to wade through it to make her way back to the mansion, she sees tiny flakes forming in the air, landing along the path and covering everything up and erasing any evidence that she has been there. She knows that Logan will be waiting for her at the mansion, probably in the kitchen, mixing a packet of hot chocolate into a mug and sticking it in the microwave.
She still hasn’t made a decision yet, but it is nice to know that she won’t be alone through the next month.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Written for carolina_jay for fandom_charity. I did end up going slightly over the 500 words.