Unfortunately, the un-ambitious facet of my personality left me with a gaping hole in my future. What did I want to do after college, besides be an X-Man? Being a teacher wouldn’t be so bad, I reasoned, though I had no idea what subject I could teach. I’d never been particularly involved in my academic experience. Going to class was just something I’d always done.
Man, I didn’t like the sound of that. It made the out-of-place feeling in my gut twitchy. Once out of the med lab, it grew even more obvious that I didn’t fit. Even the grounds weren’t the same now four months into construction on a plethora of new buildings, athletic fields, and dorms, and there were so many new faces that it was hard to walk down the familiar halls.
I wasn’t turning into self-made recluse again; I had fun whenever possible. I just didn’t have purpose anymore. Thankfully, within a six weeks of getting my clean bill of health, I received my Washington, DC assignment.
Since the Mutant Registration Act had been made into law, there was much strife in Congress as to what they should do with the information now that they had it. So far, they’d kept with the straight and narrow. Even Magneto had been surprisingly inactive about the whole thing.
The passage of the Registration Act had swelled the Brotherhood’s ranks even further, so it was likely that he’d been secretly pleased about the whole development. That theory was backed up by the fact that Mystique – still playing Senator Kelly – hadn’t done much in the way of actively pushing for pro-mutant agenda lately. The necessity of revolution was an easier sell if it was obvious that the current government was corrupt.
Wisely heeding the advice of Professor Xavier, President McKenna decided that he couldn’t let that corruption happen. He finally caved and agreed to take a stance. He chose to be anti-anti-mutant legislation and pro-peaceful coexistence.
Thus, an era of hippie-like idealism began to sweep the nation’s college campuses. The Professor and the X-Men became symbols for this movement, and the much beloved President McKenna was hailed as the new John F. Kennedy.
By the moderates.
The hard-right conservatives, however, believed that he was selling out his own party, and the far-left liberals didn’t think he was doing enough. As President McKenna derisively pointed out to me one day, “In the game of politics, no one is ever a winner. Some of us just lose less publicly than others.”
Win or lose, my Washington assignment was this: guard the President. Simple, direct, and meaningful. In the five months I worked at the White House, only one serious attempt was made on the President’s life.
It was during a press conference out on the lawn dealing with Representative Reis-Steeves’s proposed Equal Rights for Mutants Act. A deranged ex-military, anti-mutant type named Doran Ray Mills had tried to get President McKenna with a long-ranged assault rifle.
I took one bullet in the back before I literally flew the President to safety. I received a commendation for my services, which I was quite proud of.
The rest of the time, it was pretty much a real, normal job. Though my true purpose was no big secret, my official title was personal assistant. Not only did I dress the part, I acted it as well. Sure, it was a glorified secretarial position and I didn’t need to be giving President McKenna his daily briefings, but I liked doing it.
It made me a part of the workforce and therefore gave me the opportunity to make friends with the entrance-level staff, who were only a couple years older than me. Having them as friends was extremely important as the gang had stayed back in Westchester and my roommate had a stick up ass.
That was Cyclops for you.
Yes, I lived with Cyclops for almost half a year. It wasn’t actually as horrible as I thought it would be. He was by no means overly friendly, but he did his fair share of the housework and refrained from parenting me to death.
For the first month or so, we stayed out of each other’s way. He spent most of his time on Capitol Hill dealing with special interest groups, organizing campaigns for pro-mutant legislation, and keeping an eye on Mystique. I was in awe of his utter dedication, until I came to the realization that he put so much into it because he didn’t have anything else.
After that, Cyclops’s social life, which had never concerned me in the least, became my business. In essence, I unapologetically invited myself into his life.
He tried to ignore me, of course, but our apartment wasn’t exactly monstrous. I kept wearing him down until he consented to sharing meals with me. Actual conversation came much slower. By the time that happened, I’d gotten used to calling him by his first name.
Scott was a much more laidback person than Cyclops. Scott had his flaws. For instance, his taste in music and movies was, at times, frightening. He was completely trapped in the late eighties and early nineties. Whenever he needed a lift, he watched the Back to the Future trilogy. Whenever he really missed Dr. Grey – Jean, as subsequently came to know her – he listened to either to hair metal power ballads or TLC’s album CrazySexyCool. Apparently, it had been her favorite throughout high school.
When he’d first divulged that information to me, I’d been thumbing through his CD collection. Not knowing what else to say, I’d said, “Really?” To be honest, I’d always pictured her as more of the Beethoven type.
“Yeah,” Scott replied, attention faraway.
It was the tail end of my stay in Washington, and, though we did have the typical roommate squabbles, our rapport had never been more affable. However, the subject of Jean made me plain uncomfortable.
Scott’s jaw tightened. “I know what everyone thinks about me.”
I thought about playing stupid, but I’d made myself his friend. I couldn’t abandon him now. “I have absolutely zero room to judge. The only reason people – the ones who know about Logan –don’t get on my case is because they don’t think I could have anyone else.”
“But isn’t that the truth? He’s the only one that you can…you can touch.”
“There’re ways to get around that, if I really wanted to. I just don’t. Logan’s it.”
“That’s how I feel about Jean. I don’t want anyone else.”
“Then that’s your choice. But that doesn’t mean you can’t find happiness elsewhere.” I pulled out his John Cougar Mellencamp CD, saying, “A wise man once said, ‘Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone.’”
Scott snorted.
“Sorry. I’m trying to remember Bobby’s speech to me about this. He was much more eloquent. He said something about the eighteen hundreds, and then he said something mildly offensive about man-hating PE teachers.”
“Sounds profound.”
“It was. Anyway, the gist of it was that I shouldn’t let my life center around my relationship with Logan because it might not work out between us.”
“Jean was my life. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with living for the people you love, so long as you’re able to live for yourself, too. And, I mean, you’ve been doing that. You’re taking a break from teaching, you’re seeing some new things, and you’re having a fantastic time with me. What more could you want?”
“Her. No offense.”
“Eh,” I replied, coming around to sit on the plush reclining chair. “It’s okay. I’d drop you for Logan in a second. No offense.”
Outwardly, he took it the way it had been intended, as a joke. I didn’t know what he was thinking inwardly. I’d just recognized the potential double-meaning in my words. Jean had chosen Scott in the end, but was he still sensitive about her interest in Logan?
“I can still feel her. Like a presence. Is that strange?”
“No. We’re mutants. There’s no such thing.”
“I guess not. You’re a smart girl, Rogue. I never saw that before.”
“You never liked me, did you?”
As always, his eyes were hidden behind his glasses, yet I could tell they widened. “That’s not – ”
“It’s okay. You can be honest. I was never all that fond of you, either.”
“That’s understandable. I never gave you any credit. I didn’t hate you either, though. Stupid as it is, I did resent you a little. You brought him into our lives, and you were one of the reasons Jean liked him so much. She always said that anyone who’d do so much for a little girl he hardly knew had to be a good guy, no matter how tough he seemed. Well, of course, I knew that you weren’t a little girl and tried to convince her, and myself, that his intentions toward you weren’t honorable. She didn’t buy it. Living with a telepath…it can get frustrating.” He said it so fondly, though.
“Yeah, I can imagine. She’d always know the truth.” The platonic truth.
“Oh. Sorry. I – You’re an adult now. There wouldn’t be anything wrong…” This was not a painless topic for poor Scott, but he still wanted me to feel better. “Someday Logan will see that.”
He already had. Sleeping with me was the ultimate indication of that, even if he’d felt differently in the morning. Scott didn’t know anything about the more intimate side of mine and Logan’s relationship. however. It had been embarrassing enough to share with Bobby, and then with Jubilee and Kitty.
When I’d told them, Jubilee and Kitty had actually gotten into an argument over whether or not my decision to jump in so abruptly with Logan had been the right thing to do. Jubilee had contended that Logan needed the wakeup call to get the wheels spinning, while Kitty had maintained that waiting to assess the situation fully would’ve been more to my advantage. The rational side of me knew that Kitty was right, but the maudlin side was squarely in Jubilee’s corner. A bittersweet memory is better than no memory at all.
“Did it bother you how Logan…felt about Jean?” Scott wanted to know.
“Hell yes it did. I loved him, so I was jealous. It bothered you, didn’t it?”
“Not as much as the fact that she wanted him back.”
What an awful, awful situation that must’ve been for him. He had my total sympathy. For the first time, I kind of resented Logan for putting himself between Scott and the woman he loved.
Very soothingly, I pointed out, “At least you have the satisfaction of knowing that she picked you over him.”
“It was too late for me to get any satisfaction out of that. She was already gone.” He massaged his forehead. “What does it say about us, I wonder, that the people we loved, loved each other?”
The way he said it didn’t really make sense, but I understood where he was coming from. “It just goes to show that they have good taste. And so do we.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
His expression made me think that he was going to spend the rest of the night dwelling on it. I couldn’t have that. “Hey,” I said, looking at the clock. “It’s still early, it’s Saturday night, we’re young. Wanna go get something to eat? Maybe go to a movie?”
“I don’t really feel like a movie. What’s that place you’re always going to with those people from work? Ellie, Stephanie, and what’s-his-face. You know, the swing dancing place?”
“You can swing dance?”
“No. But I could learn.”
“Well, then let’s blow this joint, hep cat.”
Unsurprisingly, Scott was a rather stiff dance partner initially. Once he got a few beers in him, though, he got pretty wild. He acted like a complete and utter dork, but he was having fun so I didn’t say anything.
It was past three before I finally got him in the car. By the time we were back at the apartment, he’d fallen asleep.
Unfazed, I slung his dead weight over my shoulder and carried him to his room where I left him to sleep it off.
Heading to the kitchen, I noticed that the answering machine was flashing. I played the message while I got some milk out of the refrigerator. I almost dropped the container when I heard Logan’s voice for the first time in practically two years.
“Hey, kid. It’s me. The Professor gave me your number. I’m in Thailand right now. We just made it out. We’re about to take a flight to Tokyo, but I should be back in the States in a few days. I’ll be in Washington by next Friday, that’s for sure.” There was little bit of a pause. “It’s been rough. I’ve learned some stuff about me, my past. It’s not pretty, but I guess we never thought it would be. Anyway, I’ll see you on Friday.”
Friday was my twenty-second birthday. Not since I was a kid had I looked forward to a birthday so much. The anticipation of it filled my every thought.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know when Logan was going to show up, and I still had to go to work Friday morning. I dressed in my favorite dark green skirt and matching, long-sleeved silk blouse. I was about to put on a pair of sheer pantyhose when the doorbell rang.
I knew it was Logan before Scott opened the door for him. I sprinted out into the living room and gracelessly threw myself into his arms.
Who says emotional maturity has to equal emotional withholding?
“Oh, kid,” Logan whispered gruffly, burying his face in my neck. I felt the desperation in his relief and happiness at our reunion. He needed me. I tightened my hold on him to let him know that I was there, no matter what. After a long while, he set me back on my feet.
“I brought you presents,” he told me.
I went in for another hug. “I like this one the best.”
Stroking my bare cheek with the side of his thumb, he said, “Happy birthday, Rogue.”
I let myself cry then, because it really was a happy birthday.