~Logan~
He had managed to avoid most of the staff for the past couple days, but now the place was teeming with visitors. Chuck had asked him to monitor security measures. Made sense, but was incompatible with keeping out of the way of people.
There were just too many folks around. You bumped into them in every hall and corridor as they toured the premises. (“This is staff only, man, can’t you read the feckin’ sign.”)
You stumbled over them in the garden, having tea and admiring the bloody flowerbeds. (‘Ro kept an eye on them there, and he gave both her and the greenery a wide berth. Admonitions regarding proper visitor treatment wasn’t what he needed right now.)
You ran into them on the usually deserted tower (“Lady, lean over all yer want, but when yer falling, make sure to scream, will ya, so’s the kids below get warned.”) and you trod on them on the way to the gym. Which was, as he had found to his intense annoyance, open for public inspection along with the other facilities. He’d had to physically remove two young guys this morning to work out without an audience.
Quiet, civilised voices everywhere, careful words, fake smiles; it nearly drove him nuts.
He kept an eye on the CCTV, patrolled the corridors and checked with John, who monitored the mobile phone calls of visitors. Chuck could talk about privacy all he wanted - security went first in *his* book, at least when it was other folks’ privacy they were talking about. No need for anyone else to know. *This* kid would keep his mouth shut all right.
~Rogue~
She would be forever grateful to Siryn – whatever had been Jubilation’s original idea, it was certainly owed to Theresa's sense of taste that the result of the sewing session looked unusual, but wearable.
The surprised and admiring glance of Bobby and his smile warmed her through, almost let her pretend she was wearing long sleeves and gloves purely for fashion reasons, almost let her forget that she would never show *her* parents around the Mansion. Almost enough to make her feel like she fitted in.
She drew a deep breath as she moved through the first lot of incoming visitors to the reception desk. Showtime.
~Logan~
The open door to the surgery caught him off guard. They had never used it again since. There was someone there now, a figure in white bowed over a tray with medical instruments. The sight and the smell of the room hit him like a punch in the guts. He nearly doubled over in pain, clutched at the door jamb. The woman looked up, too young, too short, too dark. A student. Startled, uncertain.
“Get outta there!”
“But I’ve got duty...”
“Get the fuck OUTTA THERE!”
She squeezed past him and fled, and for moments he just stood, breathed in gasps, head thrown back in agony.
“Logan, would you please exercise some restraint in front of the visitors. Your lack of...”
‘Ro. He felt caught, exposed, whirled round, fist punching into the wall beside the woman. Plaster fell, a few cracks showed. The fleeting pain across his knuckles brought him round.
Fuck. No need to tell him that was unacceptable. He didn’t actually WANT to be a public nuisance; he just couldn’t stand all this anymore and what was HE doing in “polite company” anyway.
A deep breath and then walk along the corridor, stiffly, trying not to break into a run and attract more attention, the kind that might make him actually attack someone, eyes on the open door at the end, out and across to the garage, just get away for a spell.
~Rogue~
She had completed her third round without major problems and was surprised to find that she could do this. Remaining pleasant in the face of awkward questions wasn’t all that hard, and the politer she was, the more difficult it seemed for even the most belligerent donors to not smile back at her. She was settling nicely into her routine when she suddenly caught Logan’s name in a murmured conversation. It was quite enough even for her to silence all qualms about eavesdropping.
“... certainly no less fierce in suffering than he is in fighting.”
Rogue was good at picking up undertones: there seemed more apprehension than sympathy in Ms Munroe's voice.
“I do not think he poses a direct threat to anyone within the Mansion, nor without. It will be better to just let him be for the moment. If he is not back by tomorrow...” That was the Professor.
Ohmygod, so finally something seemed to have blown his fuses. She KNEW she shouldn’t have waited, should have talked to him or something.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pang of loss at the thought of Dr. Grey. *She* would have been the one to ask. Full of understanding and gentle strength, the telepathic woman had done so much in helping Rogue settle into life at the Mansion. And she had been the only other person who had not looked at Logan with fear or apprehension or distrust. If for nothing else, Rogue would have liked her for that alone.
No time for deliberations, though, she had to catch him before he left. A short, smiling excuse and then squeeze herself through the throng.
She ran across the main hall {{Drat this skirt and high heels now!}} and through the back door, over the lawn and through a flowerbed in the direction of the garage, tried to suppress a surge of panic {{He wouldn’t, would he? Leave for good without telling me?}}, rounded the corner, thank god! there he was, wheeling out the bike.
“Logan? Logan, wait!”
~Logan~
Oh bugger, she hadn’t witnessed him losing it, had she now. The faint twinge of shame made his voice fiercer than he knew. “GodDAMmit kid, not you as well!” It hurt her, easy to see, but he couldn’t handle that right now. “Go. Just... GO.”
He kicked off the bike and made almost blindly for the gate, {{don’t look back now, just run}}; he’d deal with it later, sure he would.
~Rogue~
She stood for a moment hugging herself and blinking away tears. That had obviously been the wrong thing to do. She forlornly trotted back to the Mansion, all newly found confidence gone.
“Rogue, what happened?”
Bobby gingerly put his arm around her shoulders, careful of the unusually thin material she was wearing. She had weaned herself out of leaning into anyone, but the temptation to let go just once and fall into an embrace was almost overwhelming. She cuddled up to him, as carefully as she could.
It was no good. He tried so hard not to draw away, but ever since that kiss in his parents’ house he tensed at her touch. The tender guilt in his eyes hurt her on his behalf and she pretended she hadn’t noticed and curled up on a bench instead, arms round her knees.
You couldn’t have it all.
“I’m worried about Logan.” It wasn’t what he had expected. “He can look after himself, Rogue.” His always kind attempt to be supportive while totally missing the point made her impatient – her turn to feel guilty. He was her boyfriend, wasn’t he? He had a right to get the chance to understand her.
“You see, Ah’ve got so much. There’s you, and then there’s all the crowd and something new to learn every day. The Professor and Ms Munroe are teaching me to sort through all those people in my head and keep them at the back and it’s beginning to work really well and...”
She clearly wasn’t making a point here, walked a few paces, wrestling with her meaning.
“You see, and he’s got so little of it all. Ah’ve begun to belong here, and he has given me that. Ah wish Ah could return some of it.”
She flopped back down onto the bench somewhat despondently. “Ah'd wish he knew he could rely on me.” Really small voice now. “There’s just fight in his life. Ah wish so much that when he runs, he’d know there’s at least me.” That sounded childish, but she couldn’t put it any better.
“I am sure he won’t run away. He will always be there for you.” Bobby’s gentle voice, kindly comforting, was almost as good as a hug.
Ororo, on her way to see whether Logan had indeed left, just caught the last of Rogue’s words and stopped short. That was a declaration of love if ever she had heard one, though neither of the two kids seemed aware of it. This would need looking into. Nobody could ever be sure about Logan’s intentions, but even if he didn’t do it deliberately, his influence on Rogue went far beyond what was appropriate and beneficial for the girl. She felt she had neglected her duty as a guardian and promised herself to observe her a little more carefully. And perhaps even talk to the Professor about it in a quiet moment.
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