I had a horrifying dream that morning. Actually, it was more of an image. One of waking up next to Logan’s cold and lifeless corpse.
“Jesus Christ,” I hissed, pressing my forehead to his chest so that I could feel the heartbeat there for myself. I wasn’t fond of that particularly profanity, but my nightmare had certainly merited strong feelings. Before I could calm down, I had to remind myself over and over that as long as I still had his healing power it was safe to touch him, and even if I lost that he would still be able to break loose at any time. I wasn’t poisonous to him.
Blowing out a long breath, I tried to snuggle into a comfortable position but was too wired to fall back asleep. I pulled myself into a sitting position carefully so as not to disturb him. Awe was the predominate feeling I got when I looked at him, followed closely by pride. He was so gorgeous and so perfect, and he was sharing my bed. I, on the other hand, was uncombed and, well, sticky. I wanted my first post-coitus impression to be a good one, so I got up to go into the bathroom. I winced a little as I walked. I’d never been happier to be so sore in my life.
Not wanting to miss a moment, I made sure my shower was the quickest possible. Bushing my teeth while drying off proved to be difficult but manageable. I pulled out a brand-new toothbrush from the medicine cabinet and put it on the sink for Logan to use, and then took my morning pill with relish. The school was finally getting its money’s worth after all those years of taking it simply because everyone else was.
Logan was seemingly still sleeping when I crept out of the bathroom. I threw off my towel before I got under the covers and back into his arms.
“Mm,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re wet.”
“And you’re warm,” I replied blissfully. Pushing myself up on one elbow, I made no effort to hide my all-out grin. “Good morning.”
Logan didn’t say anything. There was tenseness behind his eyes that made my grin lose some of its wattage. He lifted his hand to play with my white bangs. Finally, he heaved a sigh that sound a lot like, “Oh, kid.”
Uh-uh, no. Not happening. Not now, not anymore. We were past the patronizing, pseudo-big brother stage. Determined to prove that, I bit the corner of my lip slyly and trailed a finger down his downy, well-built chest.
Groaning, he caught my hand in his and lifted it up to his mouth. “Don’t do that,” he said, kissing the back of my knuckles.
“Why not? I’m pretty good at it,” I reminded him, pleased with my own boldness.
He pursed his lips, a touch of sadness in his expression. I took it as disappointment and reddened. The man I loved, the man who’d taken my virginity, had just succeeded in making me feel like a slut. Wasn’t that something.
“What are you thinking?” I wanted to know, the teasing gone out of my voice.
“That’s the problem. I am thinking,” Logan grumbled, bouncing the back of his head against the headboard.
“Well, you should stop. Indefinitely,” I advised in an attempt at levity. That didn’t work, so it was time to go on defense. “You can’t take it back.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” His voice had a hard edge to it.
I gathered the sheet around me, rising to his anger. “But you would if you could, right? Well, I wouldn’t.”
“You’ll want to. Someday, you will.”
“No. I’m not like you. When I make a choice I stick with it. I’m honest.”
“Honest? What about all your talk about not bowing to compromise? This is compromise. This isn’t what you want, some one-night stand the first time you can get it.”
Coldly, I said, “Is that what last night was.”
“I never made you any promises.”
“You promised to take care of me. Now who’s the liar?”
Bull’s-eye. My blind punch, my reflexive need to prove my cunning by turning any opponent’s argument against him had hit home with Logan. The anger left him and in its place was naked self-loathing.
Feeling horrible, I asked softly, “Why are we fighting?”
“Because I made a mistake.”
I valiantly held back the tears that stung my eyes. I couldn’t cry. Little girls who got taken advantage of cried. Grown women who took responsibility for their own actions did not. I put my chin up resolutely.
“Come on now, Logan. If we’re going to have to chalk this up to regret, at least let me have my fair share of the blame. You owe me that much.” My voice was as strong as I could make it, but not nearly as strong as I would’ve liked. “Actually, I deserve most of it. It was me who lured you into bed, right? You weren’t thinking, but I was. I’m the one who wanted this. Really wanted it, I mean.”
Logan turned his head. “Don’t, Rogue.”
“What? What am I supposed to say? Thanks for the ride? I’m not like that. Please don’t think I’m like that.”
“I treated you like that,” he stated flatly, his gaze somewhere near the door.
“Are treating me like that. Present tense. I just can’t understand why. Don’t you love me?”
His jaw clenched and unclenched. “You know I do, kid.” With that, he got out of bed. I thought he would get dressed and leave, but he went around the bed to the bathroom. He gave me that much courtesy, at least.
I listened to him take his shower, wavering between despair, confusion, and anger. He loved me, I loved him; he was attracted to me, I was attracted to him. There were no better grounds for a relationship. Logan’s attitude didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. His inconsistency wasn’t exactly an adult trait, yet it was my maturity that was constantly on trial, not his. Provided I reached my so-called peak the same time as he did, I was going to catch up to his physical age pretty damned quick, and he’d do well to look out.
Was that what it was going to take? Did I have to wait until I was in my thirties before I could be his equal? Or was it futile? Should I just give in and let him coddle me for the rest of my life? That would be worse than compromise. That would be a lie.
“What’re you doing?” Logan asked from the bathroom door, breaking me out of my long trance.
I didn’t turn around. “The real question is what we’re going to do.”
“Christ. I don’t know. I need to think.”
“Wonderful. You thinking always bodes well for me.”
“I don’t need sarcasm,” he snapped.
“Look, I can either be pissed off or I can be weepy. Granted, they’re both sucky choices, but they’re all I got right now, so just lay off.”
Way to be a whiny bitch, Rogue. Way to go. Disgusted with myself, I bit down on the sheet to keep from crying or yelling or both. I hated this. I hated to be emotional. Balance was supposed to be my mantra.
Unexpectedly, I felt Logan lean directly over my shoulder. I turned to look, but he was still standing in the bathroom doorframe. The sense of closeness didn’t fade. I could literally feel how torn Logan was. The annoyed part of him itched to leave. The bigger part, the part that loved me, yearned to make it all better. But the one thing that could do that was something he was unwilling to give for various, intangible reasons that I couldn’t quite understand even as I experienced them with him. A mixture of shame, lust, and uncertainty shrouded a profound sense of failure.
The intimate presence slid away, leaving me less composed then I had been before. Bottom line: he didn’t share my happiness. At least, not today, the optimist in me qualified. The possibilities were open now. And this time I wasn’t about to give up. This time it was real and it mattered.
There was a sudden knock on my door. “Rogue, you up?” It was Bobby. He turned the knob unsuccessfully. “Hey, why’s the door locked?
Logan’s tense posture told me that he didn’t want to be found here. Looking directly at Logan, I answered Bobby, “I’m getting dressed.”
“Well, that’s good ’cause there’s an X-Men meeting in the Professor’s study. Something big.”
Our attention, both Logan’s and mine, went to the closed door. “What do you mean big?”
“I’m not sure. I’m just messenger boy. I have to go find Logan and Storm, so I’ll meet you down there.”
“Know anything about this?” I asked Logan, taking my sheet with me toward my dresser.
“No clue. Guess we’ll find out,” he replied, heading over to where his clothes lay discarded on my floor.
We dressed wordlessly. He didn’t look my way once, so I played it cool and tried not to take peeks at him, even though my eyes were drawn to his form. Logan’s willpower was uncommonly strong, I hated to admit. Then again, he’d already seen what I had to offer. The novelty had probably worn off.
Frustrated, I abused the hangers in my closet. Would the doubts never cease?
Bobby knocked on my closed door again. “Hey, Rogue, Logan’s not in his room, so if you see him will you tell him about the meeting?”
“If I see him,” I returned with a hint of irony, throwing Logan a glance.
Logan went to his room to retrieve an over-shirt once he was sure Bobby was safely on the elevator. I would’ve gone with him, but he told me tersely to go meet Bobby. I complied only to stop myself from making snippy comments that would undermine my maturity resolution.
Bobby was waiting for me downstairs when the elevator doors opened. “I still haven’t found Logan,” he informed me. “Any idea where he is?”
“Yeah, he’s coming. I saw him in the hall upstairs.”
“Good. He’s the one the Professor most needs to see about this.”
“What is this, exactly?” I asked, walking beside him.
“I’m not sure. These two women from Vietnam, they just showed up this morning.”
“Mutants?”
“That’s what they say. They’ve been talking with Cyclops and the Professor all morning. I had to teach Cyclops’s first period driver’s ed class for him.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Not fun. The Professor really needs to look into hiring more teachers. There’re way too many new students this semester. Wagner’s covering Storm’s world history class right now.”
By that time, we’d reached the study door. Bobby knocked once and then ushered me through. A youngish, professionally dressed woman was seated next to Professor Xavier, nursing a cup of tea. Cyclops and the other woman were hovering vigilantly in the background near the open windows. Storm was sitting in the chair opposite one of Professor Xavier’s many elaborate chessboards.
“Have a seat. Logan will be along shortly,” the Professor told us, motioning us toward the sofa.
Sure enough, not ten seconds after we’d sat down, Logan walked through the door and shut it behind him. I didn’t expect him to take the seat beside me since he always preferred standing. I was glad he didn’t. That would’ve been way too much of a distraction. It was hard enough not to think of the elephant as it was.
Oh, God. Blank white wall, I thought wildly. Telepath in the room. Not a vir – Blank white wall. Blank white wall. Telepath in the – Goddamn it, blank white wall!
I sincerely hoped that the Professor would ignore my treacherous, screaming brain. As far as I could tell, he did. That calmed me down quite a bit. I was actually able to pay attention as he started the introductions. “Ms. Xi’an, Ms. Long, these are the remaining members of our team. Bobby Drake, also called Iceman, Rogue, and Logan.”
“The Wolverine,” the woman near the window stated, her piercing green eyes fixed on him.
I looked to Logan for signs of recognition. There was only guarded curiosity.
“It’s good to meet you all,” the other woman replied in accented tones. “My name is Mahn Coy Xi’an and this is Nguyen Thi Long.” Her eyes flicked toward the Professor. “Also called Karma and Dragon.”
The Professor smiled faintly before addressing us. “Ms. Mahn and Ms. Nguyen are associated with Tokuzawa Ichiro’s mutant rights activists in Japan. He suggested that the we were better equipped to assist them.”
“Tokuzawa-sensei spoke very highly of you, Professor,” Karma replied graciously.
“Assist them with what?” Logan questioned.
I smiled to myself because I loved it when he cut through the pleasantries. It made these tedious meetings go so much quicker.
But of course, of course – little did I know.