“Enough!”

The two men looked to Professor Xavier, furious, as he held them suspended in the air under his telepathic paralysis. Both Wolverine and Gambit were breathing heavily from the exertion of battling each other, shards of the common room’s windows and their splintered wood frames lying below them in the freshly fallen snow. The screams of terrified students could still be heard from within the mansion.

Charles Xavier was angry.

“Let go, Chuck," Logan snarled, his adamantium claws glinting in the moonlight as he strained against the hold the professor had on him. “Little gumbo boy needs to learn a lesson.”

The Cajun’s eyes flared dangerously, his cards lit with energy in his immobile hand. “Dis animal needs to be housetrained, m’sieur,” he retorted through clenched teeth. “And Gambit is more than up to the job.”

Professor Xavier tightened his hold and they both grunted in unison. “I will not have my students and my school in danger because of your inability to control yourselves. Either this stops immediately, or I’ll resort to reducing you both to infantile states. Am I clear?”

Wolverine growled in disgust. “I have a right to defend myself, Wheels. The ragin’ Cajun is the one who came lookin’ for a guaranteed beating.”

“Dis one is going to tear you…” Gambit choked on his words when the Professor tightened his hold further on the younger man, releasing the older.

Logan landed in the snow and glared at Charles. “Next time, make sure to knock me out ‘cause I won’t let ya get away with that shit again.” He sheathed his claws and strode back into the mansion.

Charles kept his attention on Remy. “You need to calm down, Remy.” He loosened his hold but maintained the telepathic paralysis on the angry mutant.

The cards in his hand remained charged. “Dis is Remy’s fight, old man.”

“Is that so? Well Mr. LeBeau, tell me, what is it that makes you feel you have the right to attack your fellow team mate?” Professor Xavier asked calmly.

Gambit eyes flashed red fire. “He is de reason Rogue is gone!”

Professor Xavier waited patiently when the kinetic energy controlling mutant renewed his struggle and although difficult, he managed to contain him.

Barely.

With sympathy, the professor told him, “Rogue left on her own volition, Remy. It was her decision to leave.”

“Mensonges!” Gambit spat out. Charles felt his hold beginning to slip, his earlier hold on Logan having weakened him considerably. Both men were surprised when suddenly the Cajun was swept up in a wind made funnel.

“End this childish display, Remy,” Storm demanded, her white tresses flowing wildly about her head, eyes glowing like mirrored opaque orbs.

Gambit put away his cards and put his bow staff behind his back. “Dis one is angry, cher.” The wind blew his hair about him, his handsome face dark in its fury.

The weather goddess waved the funnel cloud away, telling him, “She chose to go Remy, your anger is not justified. Rogue does not belong to you.”

Remy stepped onto the snow covered ground, tense. “Does she belong to him?” he bit back, head averted from his good friend.

Storm stood beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Rogue belongs to no one but herself. If you truly care for her, let her go. I am sorry she didn’t reciprocate your affections for her, but that’s your demon to battle. And its name is not Wolverine.”

Professor Xavier could feel the raw emotion in the Cajun. Knowing he was in good hands with Ororo, Charles walked back into the mansion to locate the man who surprised him most with his reaction to the loss of Rogue.


*****



Professor Xavier found him in the upper levels of the library, standing off to the side of one of the large windows where he was watching Ororo comfort Remy in the front courtyard. Walking silently into the room, Charles stood beside him, and waited.

“I don’t know how it happened.”

Charles nodded, saying nothing.

He clenched his jaw repeatedly before continuing. “I admire everything about her. Her bravery, her sense of responsibility, her kindness and intelligence. I have seen her grow into a strong woman and step out from under the shadow of the Wolverine. Maybe it began when she decided to remain with us instead of going off to college with the rest of the younger X-Men. Her sense of duty, her loyalty is heady stuff to a man like me.”

Silence again. The professor knew that he wanted no advice. He just needed to talk.

“I know that Rogue caring for me more than a friend is unlikely.” He looked away from the hugging pair below him and fixed his gaze on the professor. “And I know that what Logan and her have is powerful. But I still want her near me, I still want her here. And now Rogue’s gone.” His fingers curled into fists.

Charles Xavier sighed deeply. “She made the decision to leave.”

“Did she Charles?” He retorted angrily, “Did she really? The Rogue I know would never leave unless she felt she had no choice. This was her home, and now that Logan is back, she’s gone. I want her back,” he said softly. “It took her leaving to realize that I’ve fallen in love her. I never even got to say goodbye.”

Professor Xavier chose his next words carefully. “Rogue has had a very difficult life before arriving here. Her mutation has felt like a curse to her. Now, with her new found control, she can determine the direction her life will take. She is a young woman who never got to experience life on her own terms. The future is open ended, not predetermined as so many of us prefer to believe. Rogue needs to decide what her future will be, free of obligation. And that includes the X-Men.”

Scott Summers took in a deep breath, knowing he was right. And he was all too aware that once again, he and Wolverine shared a love for the same woman.


*****



Logan dropped several sheets of wood onto the floor of the common room and began to board up the huge gaping hole he and Gambit had caused earlier that evening. Or rather, the huge gaping hole Gambit caused when he blasted him through the windows onto the courtyard outside.

He pounded the nails into place, not bothering to acknowledge the presence of his closest friend watching him. Nightcrawler was a patient man however, and *bamfed* closer, inspecting the other man’s handiwork.

“Not bad, mein freund, I didn't know you were so handy. I think of you more as a smasher of things, rather than a builder.”

Logan grunted in response.

Kurt suspended himself upside down from one of the chandeliers within the large room, not bothered in the slightest that the conversation was one-sided. “Gambit seems upset by the departure of our lovely Rogue.”

There was no hesitation in the hammer as Logan pounded another board into place.

“Yes,” the blue furred man continued, “Rogue seems to bring out powerful emotions in people. Today vas a particularly sad day in our school, not a dry eye to be found."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“I tried to make her stay, but,” the German born mutant paused and then said deceptively softly, “she vas determined to leave.”

Logan dropped the hammer to his side and turned to look at the blue transporter. He didn’t need heightened senses to know that Nightcrawler was angry. “Look Kurt, I’m gettin’ her back. As soon as I am done here, I will track her down so ya don’t need to worry about her. She’s got a few hours under her belt and by the time I catch up to her she’ll be ready to come back.” He turned away to grab another board.

Nightcrawler teleported directly in front of him and tore the hammer out of Logan’s hands, throwing it to the floor. His eyes glowed ominously amber, and bared his demonic-like teeth in barely suppressed fury.

“You arrogant man,” he hissed, grabbing the larger man’s shirt and slamming him hard against the recently nailed up board, causing it to splinter apart. “Do you not realize that Rogue is gone? For good? She does not vant to be found, least of all by you. I have seen that girl go through many things, most vithout you around, and she has bounced back vith increasing strength and maturity. But this time,” he shook Logan harder for emphasis. “She seems defeated. And I think it’s because of you.”

The Wolverine glared at Nightcrawler, fighting the instinct to retaliate in kind to his aggression. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Kurt so angry. So, he wisely stayed quiet. Seeing that he wouldn’t get the fight he was spoiling for, Kurt released his hold on Logan and angrily rubbed his three fingered hands through his hair, his pointed tail swishing agitatedly behind him. “You are a dear friend Logan, and I strive to be a creature of God. But I fear Rogue’s very soul has been vounded.”

Logan remained silent. Frustrated, Kurt told him, “I for one, am happy that she has left. I am happy that she has left you. You are nothing but trouble for her. She is young, and she deserves a happy life avay from you."

“At least we agree on something,” Logan muttered.

Kurt got right in his face again. “So you vill leave her alone, yes?”

“After I find her.” He picked the hammer up off the floor and turned his back to the teleporter, ripping off the shattered board to replace it with a new one. Before Kurt could argue further, they heard the sound of a throat being cleared behind them. Logan knew who was there, knew for a while, but he was beginning to get annoyed. These distractions were delaying him from completing this job so he could leave and find Rogue. He would get her back, safe and sound back in the X-Mansion and then he would leave. Permanently this time.

“That won’t be necessary Logan.” Professor Xavier’s voice rang clear and strong throughout the room. “Rogue is gone.”

“Says you,” Logan replied, nails clenched between his teeth as he pounded the last board into place.

“Say all of us.”

Wolverine turned around and standing before him was all of the X-Men. The looks on their faces ranged from angry to serious to sad. He cocked an eyebrow at them, fixating his gaze on the Cajun standing by Storm.

“Come back for more, bayou boy?” he taunted, slapping his palms together to free the wood dust that had accumulated on his hands. Remy lit up a card and held it menacingly but Storm grabbed his hand and shook her head. Logan laughed derisively.

“Listen,” he told them, his irritation evident as he tested each board for strength. “I will get Rogue back before she gets herself into trouble. Not that it’s any of yer business, but if she did leave because of me,” he looked at each of them individually and ended with Professor Xavier. “Then don’t worry. I’m outta here as soon as she steps back into the school.”

Wolverine walked away from them, shrugging on his leather jacket as he made his way to the front foyer. He could still make out Rogue’s scent and figured it would only take a few hours to track her down. The front door handle refused to budge. He tried it several times, but it didn’t move. He turned to face the group that had now made their way into the entrance hallway, glaring at the professor specifically.

“This is gettin’ annoyin’,” he told them with a scowl. “Do ya want her back or not?”

“Not.” This came from Kitty.

“Not?” he echoed incredulously.

“Not,” repeated Professor Xavier. “Rogue has made her decision. We owe it to her to respect it.”

Logan stared at him, shocked. “You can’t be serious.”

Jubilee stepped forward. “Very serious.”

Wolverine could feel anger rising in his gut. “Are you all fucking nuts? She’s just a kid!”

Storm shook her head sadly. “You are wrong, Logan. Rogue is a child no longer. And like the rest of us, she has the right to discover for herself what she wants, who she is.”

Logan opened his mouth, and then shut it, deciding that they all lost their minds. He pointed at the door. “Open this door right now Chuck, or I’m gonna add to yer recent collection of gapin’ holes.”

Scott deliberately stood in front of the double doors, joined by Hank, both crossing their arms. “Let her go, Logan,” Beast said soberly.

Anger continued to rise inside him, and his breathing matched it. Wolverine fisted his hands and said through gritted teeth, “Move.”

His claws slid out slowly, threateningly, but the two men remained where they were.


~ Logan, I know you love her. ~


Fuck you, Wheels.


~ I can promise you that she will remain safe. Let her go. ~



“Fuck you, Wheels,” he said out loud, never taking his eyes off Scott.

They all bristled at his words but one by one, they joined Cyclops and Beast by the front door. Kitty and Jubes were openly crying, but they looked at him, defiant.

Logan stepped back, looking at his team mates, his friends. “Don’t you care for her?” he demanded of them. “That she belongs here?”

Scott stepped forward. “Yes,” he told the feral mutant, “We all know that Rogue belongs here. But she needs to figure that out for herself.”

Tense moments passed. Logan directed his fierce glare to the floor and with tremendous effort, retracted his claws. He strode away from them and made his way through the empty and cold manor, stalking into his bedroom and slamming the door forcefully behind him. Her scent was still in the air, in his leather chair, in the jacket he was wearing, the scent marred by the stench of her tears. He caught sight of the only photo in the room, and he reached for it before dropping his heavy frame into the chair.

It was a photo of Rogue, Jubilee and Kitty when they were all very young, taken around the time when they both first arrived in the mansion. It was given to him as a Christmas present that same year, by Jubilee. His fingers gently caressed Rogue’s younger face, the expression on it scared and unsure. Heartache spread brutally from his chest.

Rogue was gone.


*****



The taxi rolled silently up the dusty, pebble strewn driveway, stopping in front of the pathway that led to the large plantation-style home. The vehicle’s back seat occupant found herself trembling as she looked at the familiar wrap-around porch that fronted the three floors of the mansion.


Willowbend Manor.


The back door swung open, and the driver offered his hand to assist her out of the car in an easy, southern manner. He quickly retrieved her luggage from the back of the cab and tipped his hat in appreciation when she tipped him generously. With a smile, he stepped back into the vehicle before rolling back down the magnolia tree-lined drive.

She stood there in the early morning Mississippi sun, willing herself to move forward. She could sense the many eyes that were staring at her through the windows, the rustling of hastily dropped curtains betraying their presence when she swung her gaze upwards. Familiar scents and sounds assailed her senses as she walked up the expansive steps that led to the massive front doors. They swung open, revealing a well dressed butler who indicated with a sweeping arm gesture for her to enter. She thanked him and another house servant appeared to retrieve her luggage from her hands. The smell was stronger now, and her suspicions were confirmed.

Swallowing the growing lump in her throat, she made her way to the sweeping Scarlett O’Hara staircase that lead up to the upper floors. She placed one foot in front of the other, to the top floor where she walked silently down the wide hallway to its very end. She found a set of double doors left slightly ajar and she paused, tears blurring her vision. She quickly blinked them away and stepped through.

The scent within the room was pungent and her eyes were drawn to the prone figure lying on the bed. His head was turned towards the French doors that led out to a balcony that she knew overlooked the back gardens. Sitting next to the bed in an old rocking chair, was Nanna. She looked almost exactly the way Rogue remembered her, except for the few wrinkles that lined her cocoa colored skin and a slight peppering of her once completely ebony hair. Their eyes met and the older woman covered her mouth with her hands, eyes widening from shock.

“What is it, Nanna? Has my angel arrived for me?” The man’s voice was hoarse with resignation.

Rogue moved forward, and placed herself in front of the French doors. The man’s face crumpled with relief, and he exclaimed. “It’s Prissy, Nanna. She’s come to take me home.” The woman beside him began to weep at his words.

“No Daddy,” Rogue corrected him, in a voice barely over a whisper, “It’s Anna Marie. Ah’ve come home.”

Recognition dawned on the drained face of Owen D’Ancanto. He struggled to sit up and Rogue moved quickly, kneeling before him. He took her face into his too cold hands, his trembling fingers running over her face. “It is you. My beautiful Anna Marie,” he exclaimed wondrously. “Really and truly you.”

She nodded, not able to speak. The dying man took his long lost daughter into his arms with surprising strength, holding her tight.

“Ah am so sorry, my precious girl. For everything.” Rogue knew that he was, and a peace came over her.

Anna-Marie D’Ancanto was home.
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