The clouds in the sky looked dark and threatening up in the sky, where not a single patch of sky was visible. It left me with a funny, ominous feeling in my stomach. But most of my feelings didn’t make sense to me anymore anyway, so I tried to ignore this unpleasant one.
Something told me though, perhaps an inner-personality’s voice (all their voices blended eventually into a static and constant discomfort) that this wasn’t like my insane urge to smoke a cigar, or the pleasure I felt when watching Professor Xavier under pressure. This was something different.
It hung over me all day, ignored. I went about my work as usual, studying hard and memorizing French phrases manically before I flunked yet another test. Before I came to Xavier’s my grades had always been very good, ranging from B’s to A’s with the occasional disappointing C. But that was also when my biggest worries consisted of homework, boys and the certainty that I would die the oldest virgin in Meridian. When my feelings were my own, I had never been in mortal danger, felt true fear, had sex, tasted bourbon or even kissed a boy.
Now I’d experienced all these things, both inside my head and out. The world wasn’t a safe little town full of people I’d known all my life, it was a dark dangerous wide world filled to the brim with people wanting to harm me in some way, in every way.
So being at Xavier’s was kind of like make-believe, a game I always liked as a child. Pretending I was an ordinary kid, with an ordinary boyfriend, friends, teachers, homework. The sameness of the days really got to me after a while. I got into the habit of taking illicit trips to the city, hanging out in clubs at 2 AM, feeling very old and very young simultaneously. Bobby noticed, suspected I was cheating on him and we broke up. He was only there to fill up the space Logan left, anyway. I took up smoking.
Then Remy came along, flirtatious and dangerous but most of all different. I didn’t like him, let alone love him, but I allowed myself to be won over and undressed one night in his room. Now every day seemed at least somewhat surprising with him around, even if the suspicion that he was sleeping with Kitty on the side prickled in the back of my mind. I didn’t care that much though, so I let it happen, pretending to be stupid and blind. Things would be better when Logan got back.
In other words, things were going okay by my standards. No confrontations, no expectations, no real hope except for Logan’s return so no real disappointment either. I lived through my days feeling very little, giving into all my urges, just to block out the constant void that he, I felt, should’ve occupied. And now I sensed change, like the hush before the storm, and it irritated me. Would Remy tell me what was going on? Would Kitty? But it turned out to be much worse than that.
Logan came back. Like he’d never been gone, he sauntered into the TV room where I was mindlessly watching ‘Fear Factor’. I smelled him before I actually saw him. The delicious and unwelcome scent of cigar smoke, green grass, wind, soap and something tepid, salty and nauseating that must’ve been sex. I didn’t look up when I recognized it. In fact, I think I hunched down slightly, hoping he might miss me and go see Jean and the professor. I couldn’t face him.
“Hey, darlin’.” His voice drifted over to me in its lazy way, and I knew he was smiling and waiting for me to run over and give him a big hug. Something kept me sitting.
“Hey.” My voice sounded very dry, though I hadn’t meant it to be, almost sarcastic if there was more feeling in it. My eyes briefly left the screen, where the cute redheaded girl was eating fish eggs with difficulty. I smiled at him, some attempt at warmness. Then I looked back at the screen. She wasn’t going to make it through this round, for sure.
Logan stepped in front of me, blocking my view, looking a little confused. I met his gaze. “What’s wrong, kid?” he asked, in that soft concerned way that he doesn’t use with anyone but me and Jean. Gee, being in the same category as Jean in something. How special. My urge to be nice vanished. Why had I loved him, quietly loved him, all these years?
“Nothing. Does it look like something’s wrong?” I asked.
Before he could answer Jean came in, her arms filled with files. Her pretty red hair was loose, and she was wearing red lipstick. She looked tired, but happily satisfied. She always felt happy accomplishing something, even something small like filing. I always felt jealous of her, but I rarely let it show. Not that she’d care very much. In her eyes I was just another student, an eighteen-year-old but a kid still, someone beneath her radar.
When Jean saw Logan, there was a tension-filled, sparked moment. The air between them seemed loaded with an electric current. His eyes were on her face, and I knew my presence meant nothing to him in that second. His eyes devoured her face hungrily, and I knew he was fighting every instinct to kiss her. She smiled at him, a quivery little half-smile that was uncertain but pleased. That smile meant trouble. It meant she could be won over, still.
Why did Remy’s affair mean so little to me that I couldn’t bring myself to care, but Logan’s gazing at Jean made me so murderously, desperately angry that I wanted to rip him apart with my bare hands?
I stood and mumbled some excuse or other, just so Logan wouldn’t come running after me. What was I thinking? They didn’t even reply, and their eyes didn’t leave each others’ faces. I managed to leave calmly, not walking too fast. When I got into the hallway I started running.
I ran fast, without stopping or breaking speed, right out the door of the mansion and farther, into the football field, and beyond that, deep into the woods. My body was protesting, my sides ached, my breath was ragged, but I was putting as much space as I possibly could between myself and Logan. When I stopped, finally stopped, I was very near the highway. I fell down onto my knees, and wished I couldn’t hear the traffic. Erik hated the sound of traffic.
For some reason, that thought broke me, and I spent the next half hour crying disconsolately.
When I came back, I was back to normal. I went to my room, wanting to change into that black slip of dress I just bought on sale, put on my lucky boots (the ones with the block heels) and spend another night drowning out my thoughts with loud music. But before I reached the door, I already heard them in the next room over. Remy and Kitty were actually in there. Did they want me to find out or something?
I just snapped. With no real effort, I kicked the door open and popped my head inside. “Hey, kids, having fun?”
Kitty, who was on her stomach, let out a soft cry of shame or horror. I couldn’t tell and couldn’t care less. As for Remy, he just stared at me, apparently shocked. Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the room. “You two make me sick, you know that? Did you really think I didn’t know about this pathetic little thing? Please, please tell me I don’t look quite that stupid. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you’re in the room next to mine, you think I didn’t hear you?” I paused, waiting for them to beg or yell or something. Kitty hid her face in the pillow and Remy shook his head distractedly. Jesus.
“Okay. I’m leaving now.” I turned around, my hand on the doorknob.
“Rogue, cherie…we, uh, we are broken up…?” He smiled tentatively. I stared at him, amazed. Had I really slept with such a complete loser? Had I been such a pushover that he thought I’d sleep with him after this?
“Yeah. Yeah, we are really fucking broken up. Kit, I hope he’s not as weak with in the sack as he was with me, ‘cause I know he’s got shit for brains.”
Slamming the door to release some anger, I started towards the stairs. I stopped. Logan was standing there. “Broke up?” he asked conversationally, leaning back against the railing.
“Yeah. Did Jean and Scott break up too?” I shot at him, breezing past him with faked nonchalance. Just speaking to him made my skin crawl with irritation. For months, I hadn’t felt anything at all. Just numbness. Blessed numbness. Damn it, I knew it was going to be a bad day.
“No,” he answered, surprised.
I glanced over my shoulder, glaring fiercely. “Really? ‘cause I couldn’t think why you were looking so fucking smug.”
And then, like the cowards I most certainly was, I hurried down the stairs and made my way towards the gym. But I had only just started punching the bag when he appeared like the ghost from Christmas past. He held onto the bag, steadying it. “Come on, what’s wrong?” He sounded remarkably concerned for someone I just insulted.
“Gee, I wonder. Remy’s cheating with Kitty,” I started to say.
“You didn’t want him, I could smell it,” Logan answered savagely.
He was right. God, I hated that. I punched the bag so hard I felt him wince. “I have you, Erik, David, Carol, and Bobby in my head.”
“You had them in your head last year too, and you were fine.”
“But now I hate you.”
He didn’t skip a beat. “No, you don’t.”
I inhaled sharply, taking the boxing gloves off and tossing them aside. “Oh yeah? Then why does it hurt so fucking much with you in there?” I demanded, and there were tears in my eyes. They could’ve been from anger, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to find out, either.
“Because you love me.”
Then his arms were around me, and his lips were against mine and the world fell into a million pieces and reassembled itself just a second before I opened my eyes. I broke away from him, loving the taste of him but hating him, all the same. “You’ve always loved me, Marie. Now’s your chance, darlin’. Take it or leave it.” When I looked away, uncertain, he took my chin and angled my face back in his direction. “You don’t just walk out when you know you love someone. I’ve been through it, damn it, and I won’t let you.”
His eyes were locked with mine and I would’ve slept with him, would’ve undressed right there and done it on the gym floor, if he hadn’t said those words. From what he said it was obvious that this had nothing to do with me, really. Logan and Jean were the primary actors in this play, I was just a walk-on, a complication that would be eliminated eventually so the hero and heroine could reunite. He wanted me to be with him because he saw in me himself, in the same situation he’d been in the first time he came back. He walked away. He backed off, and now Jean was married to Scott. I left.
He didn’t follow, which surprised me. He called after though: “Tell me you don’t love me!” and I didn’t reply. For some reason I didn’t want to lie to him, not right then.
Coincidently, there was an embarrassing little talent show being held that night. Hosted by Jubilee. It was in honor of Jean’s birthday, funnily enough. The previous week Jubilee had needled me so much that I had eventually given in and promised to sing something. At the time, singing at Jean’s birthday struck me as kind of amusing in an ironic way. I was fairly sure I could get out of it now, having the old Kitty’s-sleeping-with-my-boyfriend excuse and all.
But I didn’t want to give the impression to the others that I was all broken up over Remy and Kitty. I knew that by now my knowledge of the affair had probably spread through school like wildfire. My red eyes and pale face might make them think I had cried over it, when I was actually crying over myself and possibly Logan. So I took out the lyrics to the song I’d practiced a little and went to the auditorium.
I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I walked, including Kitty’s and Remy’s. The noise level of the chatter rose. No one but Jubilee approached me, though. “Hey, babe!” she said excitedly, grabbing my arm and leading me backstage. There, her enthusiastic attitude vanished. “You okay, chica? Everybody’s talking about your showdown with the manslut. Dude, I swear, I didn’t know, I was in Costa Rica, remember? Totally rocked, but I would’ve like, rushed down here if I thought you were in trouble, like-”
I cut her off, smiling. “You’re rambling. It’s okay. I don’t care.”
Jubilee glared fiercely at Kitty, who we could see from the gap between the purple curtains, wearing stonewashed jeans and a pink tank top. “Well, I do. She’s getting total silent treatment from me. Mess with my girl, and you mess with me, know what I’m sayin’?”
I nodded distractedly, glancing down at the lyrics. In retrospect, ‘Crazy In Love’ seemed in poor taste. “Hey, Jubilee, I know I said Beyonce, but do you have the music for anything else?”
The Asian girl nodded, smiling wildly. “Something sexy. Something to really make his puny little heart break for trying to-”
“Um, no, Jubilee, don’t. Just…what do you have?” I asked, suddenly losing my enthusiasm for the whole thing anyway.
She got down onto her knees and started sorting through a big shoebox full of tapes. “The Carpenters, ugh. Celine Dion, no, The Spice Girls, ew. Hanson, give me a break, Backstreet Boys…Quit Playing Games With My Heart…? No, never mind. Beach Boys, no, Sarah McLachlan, maybe, Lifehouse, nope, The Cardigans, don’t think so, Garbage, no, Dido-”
“That’s it,” I interjected. “Don’t.”
Jubilee, frowning in confusion, said: “What? Don’t what?”
“Don’t anything, that’s the song I want. ‘Don’t’.
“You sure? It’s about cheating.”
“Shit. Never mind. Okay, what?”
“Um. Hey!” With the enthusiasm she was born with, Jubilee reached into the shoebox and extracted a familiar looking tape. “How about Pink?”
I paused, envisioning myself with pink spiky hair. I cringed involuntarily.
Jubilee pouted, blinking furiously in what was obviously a very strange, almost cartoonish attempt at innocence. “I’ll choose something totally appropriate.”
I sighed, feeling that ominous little knot in her stomach tighten. “Do you have ‘Too Little, Too Late” by Hoobastank?” I asked, guessing the answer was ‘no’.
Jubilee’s face fell. “I guess I do. You really wanna sing that?”
When I nodded certainly, Jubilee sighed and gave in. Probably for the first time in her life, and I’m still grateful to her.
When it was my turn to take stage my heart sped up a little. I knew he would be in the crowd, drawn to any place where he would be near Jean. This was something I would regret later, I knew, but I also knew with clarity that it was the right decision. Eventually it would stop hurting.
“I’ve been so long in waiting…putting my life on hold for this. For the chance to live out my dreams…” I sang, “you look you know what I should do with the choices I now have, make them better than you…”
Chancing a look into the crowd, I saw some disbelieving people that probably hadn’t figured I could hit a note. And Logan was there, with Jean, looking strangely disbelieving, too. It fueled me. “…what if I don’t wanna hear the things you say? Where were you when I was needy yesterday? You want in with me, now that it’s good. But it’s too little, too late…it’s too little, too late…” The last guitar riff sounded, the tape clicked and my performance was over.
The message was clear.
I haven’t heard from Logan in four years, and I don’t expect I ever will. In the daytime, when I’m with my friends, teaching a class or playing with my daughter, Rosemarie, I feel that same certainty. The certainty that I made the right decision identifying his offer for what it was, and walking away. But some nights, alone in my bed, when the night is still…I’m not so sure.
End
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
Dedicated to a song by Hoobastank, ‘Too Little, Too Late’, which fueled my imagination for this story. I know this one treats Logan unfairly, but after ‘Belief In Coincidence’ I felt I should do one where he is the bad guy, not Rogue.