I'm so scared that the way that I feel
is written all over my face
When you walk into the room
I wanna find a hiding place
We used to laugh, we used to hug
the way that old friends do
But now a smile, a touch of your hand
just makes me come unglued
It's such a contradiction
Do I lie or tell the truth?
Is it fact or fiction?
Oh, the way I feel for you
Is so complicated
I'm so frustrated
I wanna hold you close, I wanna push you away
I wanna make you go, I wanna make you stay
Should I say it? Should I tell you how I feel?
Oh, I want you to know, But then again I don't
It's so complicated
It took one second to process everything that was in front of him.
It took another second to come to the decision that Angel was a dead vampire.
It took one more second to find a stake.
He heard the whisper next to him, a small "No," that he would have barely glanced at, had he not smelled the whiff of panic that accompanied the trembling voice.
Angel had moved immediately, but Logan was quicker, moving under and letting Cordelia's quaking body fall into his waiting arms, gathering her up as she thrashed, waiting and growling slightly as Rogue and Angel moved forward.
The smell of arousal, of physical desire was leaving Rogue, but it had done it's damage.
His mind was flashing with dark anger, with anger and blood and hate and it was all directed at the vampire.
Rogue knew it, as he gathered Cordelia to him, eyes narrowed at her, as her face constricted and there was the guilt and the pain before the Rogue in her stifled it out of her face, locking it away, hiding her true personality from even him.
Shit. He fucking hated that she did that. Barred herself from him and she never did that unless there was something really wrong, and it made the anger and hate that much harder.
"Cordelia."
"Leave her the fuck alone," Logan hissed, coming to his haunches as he kept her to him like a wounded animal fighting for a last bite.
He focused completely on her, fingers padding her cheeks. She took a breath as whatever hit her went away, and he was glad when her fingers tightened around his, when her forehead leaned against his chest.
It was something to focus on, something to distract him from what he had just seen.
"Oh, God," she whispered raggedly, fingers tightening on his lapels as her eyes opened and focused brilliantly on him.
In Logan's world, a desperate universe formed to help his anger, the helplessness that filtered through him, there was only him and her, and so he did not appreciate it very much when she whispered with that soft lilting voice, "Angel?"
"I'm right here, Cordy." In came the voice of the vampire, and the low growl nearly matched his own as Angel attempted to get to the Seer.
Her hazel eyes pinned him, and for some reason Angel faltered, his hands suddenly pausing in thin air before he swallowed, pulling back.
"Help me," she whispered to Logan, and he immediately nodded, not watching, but feeling Rogue's presence. He could almost see her form, the arms wrapped around her body like a little girl who knew she did something wrong but wasn't quite ready to take punishment for her actions.
She had developed the tendency to lash out from him, he suspected, but did not comment, did not say anything to the woman in all black who was watching him with the old eyes so full of pain.
He didn't concentrate on the raw and bitter pain at what he could not have - the way the vampire had touched Rogue - something he had been dreaming about for months.
He held Cordelia and kept a bare hand on her light blonde strands, stroking softly as she took in a breath, and he knew she felt it, and saw her wince slightly when she looked at him. He pushed it down, and she smiled gratefully after a minute, before turning to THEM.
She regarded them for one minute, saw Angel's hunched form, looking at her for any indication she was okay, then to Rogue, who was leaning against the wall, with that look on her face, the half smirk that made everyone who didn't know better think she was a heartless bitch and made her real friends ache inside. He blithely wondered which perception Cordelia would feel.
The two woman exchanged long glares.
But the hazel eyes softened, before they closed, and the woman in his arms took a long, haggard breath before she answered the unspoken question with, "You're not fooling anyone, Streaks."
Rogue's uncaring face faded. She blinked as Cordelia's grip tightened on Logan's arm, and she broke the silence with an even, civil, "Come on. We need to meet with the others."
With Logan supporting her, she turned, and the two left behind followed into the lobby.
Remy LeBeau was not by nature a patient man.
He was never the type to take orders, come to think of it, so it was not a secret that this particular mission, the 'sit on your ass and wait' mission, was not sitting particularly well with him.
He waited, however unwillingly, on the wall, the cigarette dangling from his fingers before he lifted them to his mouth and took a long drag, letting the nicotine work it's way through his system.
After a moment he studied the burning edge, before letting it fall into the snow, hearing the satisfying hiss as it burnt itself out. Storm hated smoking. The little nimble goddess was ever the advocate of anti smoking commercials, and Gambit had been the subject of more than one lecture on his penchant for it, despite the fact that Jean and Rogue both never minded taking an occasional smoking break with him, provided Storm wasn't looking.
Even Logan was known for snuffing out the damn smelly cigar of his when Storm walked into the room, and it had become a rather fun game Gambit had learned to play, teasing Logan about his fear of the anti-smoking Storm.
For some reason, it wasn't quite funny anymore.
Remy was a self professed bastard, he had learned not to take anything seriously, his life on the streets had branded him a different way than it had branded the delicate soul of the Wind Goddess. It had seemed natural to start a friendship with her, something not based on sex, but on past experience, because she knew what it was like, she had been there, where he had -they had shared secrets of thievery, tricks of the trade that would make the student's jaw drop if they knew.
It was precious, his friendship with his Goddess.
Sex was not something he should have done with her - because sex always changed things.
He had never seen her as perfect, there were small, insignificant things that made her human, things no one else saw because no one took the time to look.
Her intense claustrophobia. Her fear of humans. Her outrageous temper. The way she bit her nails.
How she cried at the end of the silly dog movie Jubilation made them watch.
The silver lining that he saw, appreciated, and never considered as a complete turn on until she turned up at his door, sad and alone and longing for a connection.
He had given it to her, and when her face, blissful and full of rapture, had leaned up and the fingers grazed his lips and the white eyes focused on him, she had whispered three words that had gone through him.
"I love you."
He could still hear it, could still feel the way it had gone through his body, making it shake, and it had been the best damn orgasm of his life.
It had been in the morning, when he had woken up and pulled her close that the fear had started.
She had seen the doubt, and he saw the way she had pushed the feelings away before they had settled on it being a mistake - one night of sex that was just that - words said in the moment.
But Gambit had never been haunted by a one night stand the way his night with the Goddess haunted him now, and he never felt so helplessly out of control as when the wimpy Englishman with the stupid accent that was even more annoying than everyone said his was strode in with his stupid sensitivity and book knowledge and wrapped his little Goddess around his little finger.
Gambit was never a coward. He was never a man to run away from things and for this he was pissed even more than usual.
Because he couldn't even tell her that he loved her.
Because his part of the plan was 'sit on his ass and wait' while Professor X came up with anything to help the team on this side.
He reached into his pocket for another cigarette, mind whirling as he knew that nine thousand miles away, Storm was smiling at another man, and there was nothing he could fucking do.
Charles Gunn was a man of action.
He was not a coward.
He was a leader, but it had been so damn long since he had so many people trusting on HIM, not Wesley or Angel, but HIM, and he was plagued with doubts.
His mind whirled as he longed for the concentration, for the complete faith that he had in himself before he had handed the reigns of leadership to the older and the not so wiser, before he gave his faith to a group of do-gooders that were sometimes worse off than he was.
The boys with him trusted him completely, and it cut him like a knife when he saw them scramble from the vampires, look to him for any inkling what to do.
And Fred whispered in his thoughts.
"I know you'll come back."
"GUNN!" He took in a breath and the ax swung and the vampire was beheaded, before he ducked, feeling the pain when another swung into his kidneys. He stumbled back, the wall blocking his fall quite painfully.
"Come ON!" he yelled, struggling with the minion, moving his head emphatically to the direction of his truck, and the remnants who weren't trying their damnedest not to get eaten began to help those who were. He kicked up and hard, pushing the vampire back and swinging with his now not-so-shiny ax onto the vampire's neck, blinding him slightly when the dust that followed flew into his face.
He brushed it away frantically, and brought up the rear, as the crew began to pile into the truck. He heard it start, and jumped onto the side, hanging on as the darkness seemed to overwhelm him, and more creatures came at him, pulling at his legs.
"GO!"
His eyes caught the tower to his right, and his eyes looked up and up and up.
What he saw made him gasp.
Before something jerked at his legs and he lost his grip, flailing back and landing on the cement with a hard thud.
The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was the building.
Storm's fingers gently rolled the white cigarette, her dark eyes watched as it gently came apart in her hands. The freed tobacco floated down to the ground, and the moment seemed to have special meaning only to her.
It made her heart ache, the way the cigarette crumbled away, so fragile in it's own sense but so powerful in it's complete domination over people in general.
In a way, she understood people's reliance on something so small, so seemingly trivial. The way it seeped into one's soul, the simple act of taking a white innocent stick and lighting it, watching it burn, the intoxicating scent, and the way the drug flowed through.
One almost always forgot how disgusting the first whiff really was, how the first drag made one choke and snort and cough.
She smiled lightly, dropping it on the ground. Remy loved them.
It had always been a point of contention between them, and for the most part, she had learned to ignore it.
Lately she had wondered why on earth she did. Los Angeles would have been a much needed vacation from the heartache that was Remy LeBeau.
Everyone had a choice, and love was blind - but if this truly was love, then why was she feeling...
"You look like you're having deep thoughts."
Storm smiled at the voice behind her, turning her head and looking to Jean, who looked tired and weary, but in her ever perceptive state, managed to see the cigarette destroyed on the ground.
"Damn. I would have asked for that."
Storm chuckled, turning back to find her laughter fading at the city before them. "Finding yourself as useless as me?"
Jean nodded, coming forward and sitting next to her. "Those two are pouring through those pages so quickly I feel like an idiot. And I'm worried about Scott."
"He's fine," she answered automatically. "I made sure before I came back here."
"I know you would have. Thank you."
"I should have gone with that Gunn fellow."
"I think there's not much you could have done out there."
There was silence, and then Jean, never one to beat around the bush, remarked casually, "I notice you're getting along quite well with the Englishman."
Storm shrugged. "He's human."
"So?"
Storm turned, eyeing her friend. "You must have noticed my lack of trust for that kind in general."
Jean returned her gaze with a frank look in the beautiful brown eyes. "Yes, I have. And I think that he might work wonders for restoring your ebbing faith in humanity. We can't fight for what we don't believe in, Ororo." She slid her hand in the crook of Ororo's elbow, leaning her head against her friend's shoulder before adding, "The indecision is coming off of you in waves, Storm."
"I know."
Jean didn't have to say anything else, and Ororo was glad. She moved, leaning her head against Jean's, thankful for the companionship, only to be interrupted with Rogue's raspy voice behind them.
"Guys."
Both ladies lifted their heads, looking back to regard their young teammate.
Rogue looked odd, not her usual confident self as she stepped forward hesitantly. "Ah think you should come down here."
Hmm. Another clue. Rogue's accent was unusually thick.
"It's about time we suited up," Jean agreed, getting up as Storm proceeded to do the same.
"Well... yeah that. And umm... Cordelia's saying something about us having to HELP Magneto."
Fred was never quite good at keeping her mouth shut. Call it a rehash from Pylea, where she had spent so much time alone that she had been left starved for a kind human voice, but she always felt the need to interject her own opinion, even if they directly conflicted with the norm.
Cordelia had often been driven crazy with this somewhat more innocence taste of her own medicine, but she had learned to take it.
The others just would keep their mouths shut and not comment.
At this point, Fred was feeling dreadfully out of her element.
And for once, she kept her mouth shut. Her chest was tightened, so taught that she forgot to breathe once or twice, as her eyes kept flickering toward the closed doors, almost as if by looking at them long enough she could will Gunn coming through them.
Her attention was divided, as she waited for Gunn and watched as her old friends and her new friends all banded together in doubting Cordelia, which aggravated her slightly. Cordelia was never fickle, and if it was one thing she took seriously, it was the visions of hers. There was simply no other way of looking at them. And if Cordelia said they had to help the big old psycho Magneto, then Fred was more than willing to back her up.
Just as soon as Gunn got back.
So she kept her mind trained on the conversation, and her eyes trained at the door, and she waited and listened.
"Look, I know you guys think I'm nuts - but the damn vision-"
"Cordelia, we're just saying that maybe you interpreted it wrong."
Fred turned her attention back to watch as Cordelia glared at Angel with such animosity, he shut up immediately.
The guy who kept smoking that stupid cigar - Logan - just stuck the big brown thing in his mouth and chewed on it, shooting as much venom in his glare at Angel as Cordelia, and Fred blatantly wondered if she had missed something.
"I know what I saw."
"What did you see, Cordelia?" The voice that broke through was Rogue, coming forward and sitting across from her as the others cast fitful glances at each other.
Again, Fred was a trifle bit confused, but Cordelia only stared at her evenly and said in an oddly even tone, "You want the truth? Fine."
Cordelia slammed her hand on the table, grabbing the book that they had all been pouring over and jerking it open, hands shaking slightly as she flipped through the pages.
"This damn First Night that we're all talking about? This First Night that's happening RIGHT NOW and we're doing SHIT to stop? We ARE causing it. We're gonna bring it down. Me, you, Angel and Logan. We're the cause. There's a reason you're in the damn vision Rogue, and frankly I'm starting to wonder if I didn't misinterpret the first time and maybe YOU'RE the one I had to stop."
Fred's jaw dropped slightly. OUCH. Rogue immediately launched up, but Jean and Wesley had gotten there first, coming between the two women.
"Woah, wait. Cordelia you didn't mean that."
Cordelia sighed, and her eyes locked with Fred, and when her friend gave her a black expression she only sighed, burying her fingers in her bangs. "I don't know what I mean anymore. Look. It doesn't even matter, because you guys don't believe me."
Rogue closed her eyes, clamping down at the table, looking just as tired and just as frustrated.
"That's not true, Cordelia." It was Logan that spoke up, from his side of the room, and Fred blithely wondered why Angel didn't do more to reassure Cordelia. He acted like he was almost afraid of her, and that wasn't what Cordy needed right now.
With a sigh, she came forward, sliding down next to Cordelia and pressing a hand on her back, squeezing her shoulder.
"I believe you," she whispered.
One hazel eye opened and studied her, and suddenly Cordelia smiled, and leaned forward, and rested her head on Fred's shoulder.
"That's cause you rock above all else, Fred," she answered, winking slightly. With that, she turned to the rest of the group, and was quiet for one minute, her eyes resting on Angel. Fred's eyes followed, and again Angel watched her with that beseeching look, but made no move to come forward.
Cordelia closed her eyes and trembled slightly and Fred caught her before she slipped into her seat, as the guy in denim came up on the other side of her and kept her elbow firmly in his side.
"Are you okay?" Jean asked.
"Fine... just... it's... too much... the people..." Cordelia looked toward the doors, where the crowd was growing more and more rambunctious and loud. "Look, believe me or don't believe me, I know what's coming, and it's not good." She took in a breath, and finally, looked toward the stairs. "I gotta get away from here. I'm going up. Wesley, tell them."
She pushed away Fred and pushed away the guy in denim and again Fred shot Angel a look that clearly meant to push him to go after Cordelia.
But he STILL didn't move.
What was he? Glued to the seat?
She stood with a frustrated sigh, moving away as Wesley told the fateful words of the prophecy she had already heard from Cordelia, turning toward the stairs when the pounding on the door distracted all of them.
Gunn.
Immediately, she rushed to the door, ignoring Wesley's shout of warning, and Dammit if Angel didn't have any trouble getting out of the seat then, and when she heard the familiar voice tinged with fear, her heart gave and she swung it open, watching as the flood of teenagers filled the room.
There was chaos for a moment, as the teenagers huddled together and Jean looked almost scared and then maternal as she started checking for injuries, asking Wesley and Storm to help her, while Angel and Logan swung the door closed.
Fred whirled, and her eyes spotted Anne and immediately she caught her, shaking her shoulders slightly, trying to get the girl to look at her.
"Anne," she demanded. "Where's Gunn?"
Anne swallowed and looked at her and her gaze gave her the answer before the words did.
"I don't know."
Well, apparently the chaos wasn't just outside anymore.
Rogue would never admit it to anyone, but she largely suspected that Ororo and Scott and Jean and especially Logan knew, that humans scared her to death. Mutants rarely, if ever forgot what would happen if she touched their skin. There had been too many away missions, too many deaths and if that hadn't been reminder enough, the incident that had left her with two new mutations was more than enough to keep everyone at arms length.
Human's never understood. There was always one in the bunch who thought they would be the exception, that one person who would think it was 'cool' and then they'd slip and Rogue would have new memories to sort out and new bad habits to pick up and there was NOTHING about some humans she wanted inside of her.
Her mind was too full of shit as it was.
So she stayed away, her mind still reeling with pain and guilt and fear - the words of Cordelia and the look in Logan's eyes, and Wesley's prophetic ramblings sticking into her head as the teenagers camped out in the lobby.
She felt caged, not only in the prison of her own skin, but in the room, with the humans who were lost and scared, knowing she had betrayed Logan and had betrayed Cordelia and in a way, had betrayed Angel and herself, for one lost moment of pleasure.
Perhaps the most damning of it all was the ache she still felt inside, from the exhilarating touch of skin - and DAMN if Cordelia hadn't gone all out of her element and been UNDERSTANDING about the whole damn thing.
And she KNEW she had no right to feel the pang inside of her at the way Logan looked at the Seer, she KNEW she had NO DAMN right to feel the way she did, but it didn't stop her from sliding off the bookcase, hopping down and walking to him, stopping his journey to the steps where Cordelia resided in an upstairs room, with a gloved hand on his elbow.
"Don't," she said immediately.
He paused, and the look in his eyes made her flinch, pull away, putting her hands back inside of her pockets where they belonged.
"Someone needs to be with her."
"Then let Angel go."
Logan chuckled, a low, angered chuckle that told Rogue he didn't think that was the least bit funny, but a rather stupid suggestion and made her feel damn stupid for suggesting it.
"In case you haven't noticed, ROGUE," he said, enunciating the words with enough edge to make her swallow. Dammit she hated when he said her name like that. Like he was throwing back in her face everything she was and everything she wanted to be and made it all seem to petty and trivial and stupid. "He hasn't been much help."
She regretted the question almost as soon as she asked it, "This isn't about what happened is it? Cause, Christ Logan we can talk about it and I can explain-"
"There's not anything to explain, Rogue." His words were a rough growl, and she felt her eyes tear and her heart splinter slightly. Shit. This wasn't what she wanted. She had promised nothing would change, HE had promised nothing would change and yet here they were, conversing like strangers, like enemies, with stupid wordplay.
She felt seventeen again, but at seventeen there was more confidence, even when she first jumped into his camper with frost bitten fingers and tattered clothes.
Her head cocked, and she knew he could see the emotion in her face, but he made no comment on it, as she began with the half whispered, "Logan."
"Don't." The word was edged in hurt, in painful anger, and it clamped her mouth shut automatically. He shook his head and backed away from her and immediately just said, "He can touch you, I can't. That's all you needed to know, right Rogue? Fuck relationships and fuck love."
"You don't understand."
"Yeah, I do. I'm not a fucking idiot, Rogue."
God, Stop it. Stop saying my name like it's something vile. Please. I can't take it from you.
But he didn't let up, and she knew she deserved it as he spit out her words right back at him.
"We're just friends, remember Rogue? Nothing changes."
Her chest heaved up and down as she looked around the room, found everyone involved in some task or another, no one experiencing the heartbreak she was feeling.
"Logan, that's not true. Everything's changed."
And her brown eyes looked up and locked with his and he stared at her. He was waiting for something, as her chest heaved, and she prayed that the look would be enough, that he wouldn't demand the words even though he deserved them.
"Yeah, it has," he answered, and her heart sunk deep within her as he moved away from her. "He can touch you, I can't. End of story."
And he jogged up the stairs and away from her, and her eyes watered and she turned away.
Asshole. Fuck you Logan. You're the ONLY one who can touch me.
Angel was severely starting to piss him off, and if Wesley had exactly one second to spare between assuring Fred ( and in the process assuring himself) that Gunn was all right despite the dead cell phone and no one actually knowing where he was, and researching the prophecy, and worrying about Cordelia and setting up Anne's groups in a wing of the hotel, then he might have actually TALKED about what he had just said.
He knew Angel should have been worried about the prophecy, that would have worried him less.
What was pissing him off and, consequently, scaring the hell out of him, was that Angel didn't seem to care.
Even when the rioters tried to get too close and Jean and Storm had to fend them off with lightning and telekinetic prowess, once again on the rooftop, Angel didn't bat an eyelash.
And not once had he ventured anywhere toward Cordelia's room.
All in all, Wesley was quietly thinking that if they happened to live through all of this, he would give his friend a very complete pummeling.
Before Angel lost patience and beat him up, that was.
Rioters were openly attacking the hotel. The mutants, now dressed in the black standard that was their uniform, were instructing the teenagers that belonged to Anne to help them set up barriers.
Gunn was still nowhere to be found.
Fred, stoic as she was, would have been bordering on hysterics if he hadn't had her working on the deconstructing the prophecy.
And they were no closer to figuring out a means to stopping the ending that now seemed inevitable, like a ticking time bomb looming all over their heads.
Bloody Passions or Days of Our Lives or some other stupid American Soap Opera, that's what this was.
Hadn't these people see Monty Python?
And now, in Cordelia's vision of all visions, they were NOW being told they had to HELP the very man that had almost killed Rogue and all mankind in the process.
Wesley felt lost, angry, conflicted, and stretched far too thin.
A human who was suddenly leading mutants and vampires, and it was quickly becoming too much.
Because Wesley knew the end was coming, and coming fast.
Jean Grey could tell the news had startled Xavier. She could almost hear the sigh that she knew must have come out of his mouth as she held the phone to her ear, the way he was silent told her he was thinking it through.
Jean knew that no matter what Erik had done, he would always be that friend to Charles. Blithely she wondered how long it would take before Charles lost hope in the old friend. It was almost frightening to see her old mentor, father, friend, take so much hope in a man who was capable of so much destruction. Magneto had been the chink in Charles' armor, and she was secretly glad that Charles had opted not to make himself part of the mission.
Things were fragile enough as it was, and Jean did not want to see the anger, the sorrow in Charles' eyes the moment he let go. Charles still wanted to believe in Erik, and this news... as fragile as it was, could have been the key, another notch in Charles' hope that Magneto could be saved.
"Professor?" she asked, prompting him to speak, voice his thoughts. Charles could hold entire conversations with himself if he was allowed to. His mind was almost unfathomably strong and she knew that occasionally he needed to be gently brought back to their plane, reminded of where they stood.
"The Seer is sure?"
"She seems sure enough. But she's endured so much trauma and naturally everyone has their doubts."
He breathed a heavy sigh, and she closed her mouth, licking her lips as she waited.
"The seer has been right before this, Jean. Trust her instincts, to a point."
The statement did nothing to assuage her confliction, but she nodded dutifully. "Yes, Charles."
He waited, and finally he said something that made her heart skip a beat slightly. "Jean, the moment he hurts any one of you, take him out. You have the power to do it. Do not hesitate."
Her throat went dry and she coughed, almost dropping the phone in shock.
Did Charles just put a HIT out on Magneto?
"Jean do you understand?" His voice was harsh, insistent, almost angry.
"Yes."
"Good." There was a pause, and then, with the slightest hint of tired warmth, "God speed."
The line clicked, and the dial tone came on, indicating the connection had been severed.
Jean was left with nothing but a mind full of confused thoughts and a furiously beating heart.
It took all of her concentration and a hell of a lot of breathing to keep everything in it's place.
It was hard as hell, and Cordelia, who had pushed back so much, was tired. It would have been so easy to just let it all go, let it seep into her mind. But that was something she couldn't afford, not when she no longer saw everything in black and white.
She saw Logan and she saw Rogue. She felt the anxiety and the guilt and the doubt and she should have hated Rogue for what she had done-
Except she understood.
Didn't make her any less pissed off, but it didn't matter.
Nothing seemed to matter anymore.
When the door clicked open and Logan stepped into the room, eyes searching the room and finding her huddled on the bed, she wasn't surprised.
She wasn't sure why there was no surprise, but she just looked at him, taking in the darkly handsome features, the long hair and the beard, so Canadian and gruff, intense and feral.
He was dangerous and safe.
Her eyes closed and she waited until he closed the door behind her.
"Are we any closer?"
"Almost. Everyone's mostly suited up. Jean's getting the okay from the proff. We still don't know how to stop it."
She nodded, barely acknowledging his answer.
"I don't know if I can handle it," she finally whispered, breaking the silence that followed. "All the fear... all the emotions. It's seeping inside of me."
There was a pause, and the bed creaked with his weight as he sat down, a hand on her forehead.
"How come you haven't told anyone?"
She shrugged. "Why didn't Rogue tell anyone she could touch Angel? Fear. And there's enough going on that if anyone admits something else it'll be the straw that breaks it."
"What?"
"Me." He didn't say a word, when her eyes opened, and the moist hazel bore into his eyes. "Where's Angel?"
He didn't answer for a minute, but when he did, the tone was strained, tired. "I don't know."
Her eyes closed and she trembled, and then, in a voice that seemed so very small, she asked, "Logan. I know it's not all big bad and manly of you, but... can you do me a favor?"
"Yeah. What?"
"Just hold me, please."
The request could have shocked him, but he didn't seem surprised. He only took a breath, and moved around, sliding in beside her, fitting his body close to hers and pulling her in with a hand on her waist, burying his nose in her hair.
She closed her eyes, and took in the warmth, the comfort.
"I'm sorry," she said after a moment.
He stiffened, but she felt a nod and he pushed in closer and that was all they could do.
He knew what she meant.
Rogue didn't quite get why everyone was taking orders from Wesley, of all people. She had asked Storm, and she had answered that it seemed, that in the chaos that was happening everywhere, he was the only one holding it all together.
The answer was good enough for her.
Her task, to find Angel and bring him back down to get ready, for what she still didn't know, wasn't exactly her idea of a good job, but she followed it, following her intuition, and finding it right.
She found the vampire on the roof, eyes roving over the city of chaos that they still hadn't been able to save.
She swallowed, cursing her own damn selfish behavior as she moved next to him, looking over the city of hurt and suffering, his city, his haven.
"I'm not going to be a part of this," he said suddenly, never looking at her. "I'm not hurting her like that again. I'm not letting this demon out. All I've ever done is hurt her."
"That's not true, Angel."
"Everything I am is the reason why she's in pain. Why she is the way she is."
Rogue cocked her head, finally turning to regard him, and upon seeing the despair, felt a flash of anger.
"HEY, that's NOT true, Angel." She grabbed his hand, pulling him around, forcing him to face her. "Everyone has their own damn destiny, and she chose it. If it hadn't been for you she'd be dead. What kinda way to live is that?"
His eyes were hollow, so hollow, empty inside, and for a moment, they seemed a direct reflection into her own heart.
"I'm death incarnate," he whispered. "So maybe she's better off."
The feelings welled up inside of her, and the eyes teared, blurring her vision, but she knew it was her first that struck him in the jaw, sent him stumbling back. He looked surprised, the demonic face emerging as he growled at her.
"Fuck you," she responded, pushing him. "And fuck that. I'm damn tired of living in fear of what MIGHT happen, Angel. It's a hell of a way to live but if we're gonna get ANYTHING outta this life we gotta face it! If we can face death and come outta this alive then-"
"Then what?" he growled, grabbing her by the elbows, the fangs glistening as he cut her off. "I've BEEN to hell, Rogue. I know what's there. It's eternal suffering and I'll be DAMNED before I make her life anything like that."
"You already HAVE."
He let her go, and she closed her eyes, taking a breath and looking around at the city, and spreading her arms wide. "Where the HELL do you think we are right now, Angel? Paradise?"
"Oh you're one to fucking talk, Rogue," he snapped.
She almost flinched, but held her ground, jaw tightening and shoulders snapping back as she regarded him.
"I know I screwed up, Angel. I confused touch with something else and that was my problem. But it's yours too. And you felt it, and you ached for it, and that means something. That means you want something and you've got the damn hope. So STOP acting like a damned baby and fight for it. Cause there sure isn't any other way we're getting the hell outta here alive."
The night was pitch black around them, and the self professed death incarnate stared down the Angel of Death as the challenge was thrown.
A second later, there was a nod, and a growl, his lips crushed on hers for a split second before he pulled her into his arms and embraced her like an long lost friend.
And the challenge was accepted.
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