Rogue’s college exams were over, her thesis submitted. Free of her studies, she volunteered to escort students on excursions outside of the school, immersing herself in their innocent anticipation of the holidays. She developed lesson plans and assisted the faculty, decorating and helping out wherever she could, manic in her need to stay busy.
Because Rogue was on fire.
How did Logan deal with this constant sexual hunger, this basic, primal need? Her mutation made it particularly cruel, her skin longed for touch, and yet her skin was poison. And every time Rogue saw him, she felt scorched, instantly recalling his powerful body pressed so intimately against her, the feel of his hands and mouth. The memory of him, wanting her, always hovered at the surface, simmering, and constant. It invaded her days, tormented her nights, and she hated it.
Rogue was getting irritated, wishing she never confided in her best friends about Remy LeBeau. She once again pointed out to them that sex for her would never be possible.
“I call bullshit,” declared Jubilee, launching herself into the air and landing on Rogue’s bed with a bounce.
“Double bullshit,” agreed Kitty from where she was wrapping Hanukah gifts on the floor nearby.
Rogue gritted her teeth. “It’s not bullshit.”
Jubilee’s face reflected her disbelief. “Know what, Rogue? You’re right. It’s not bullshit. It’s actually you, being a chicken shit. I think you’re so caught up in the whole ‘wah, wah, I’m gonna be a virgin forever’ shtick because you’re scared of being touched and liking it too much.”
“Excuse me?” Rogue’s eyebrows soared somewhere near her hairline.
Jubilee continued, looking right at Rogue, annoyed herself. “There are ways around your mutation, chica. You need to be a little careful, sure, but you can get the job done.” She popped her gum for emphasis.
Rogue was gob smacked.
Kitty picked up where Jubilee dropped off. “You can kiss and touch anything with a scarf in the way. Maybe a piece of heavy duty saran wrap, something moldable. Ever hear of condoms? You can give a blowjob, you can drape a sheer scarf against your pussy and just let him munch away.” She twirled a ribbon with a pair of scissors and turned the bright package in her hands this way and that, eyeing it critically.
“Or you can both get off in front of each other!” Jubilee contributed enthusiastically, warming to the subject.
“OMIGOD, Can you two STOP IT?!”
Rogue had her hands over her ears, face so red she thought she would burn to a crisp. The other two girls looked at each other knowingly and changed the subject.
They had gotten their point across.
Many of the students went home for the holidays, so the majority of the staff took advantage and went on vacation themselves. Kitty and Jubilee were spending the holidays with Kitty’s family in Illinois, Bobby and Piotr decided to stay in the West Coast with their college buddies and Scott planned to visit his grandparents, with the intent to return Christmas Day. Rogue drove him the Salem Center Airport, a big part of her wishing she could go with him to Alaska, her old dream.
Seeing the wistful expression on her face, Scott asked, “What is it, Rogue?”
She inwardly chastised herself. Scott was still hurting over Jean's death, and she understood how difficult the holidays could be. “Just think of me if you manage to see the aurora borealis, will you?” She smiled for him, holding back her hair with both hands from the cold wind that blew past them.
Something flashed across his face, a look she didn't recognize, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He gave her one of his rare smiles.
“Consider it done. See you in a couple of days.”
After a quick hug, he exited the car, his tall frame moving swiftly and purposefully into the medium sized building. Watching him disappear into the crowd, she wondered if maybe one day she would get to complete the journey she had embarked on another lifetime ago. With a sigh, she shifted the Mercedes into drive.
Maybe.
Things were quiet the day before Christmas Eve.
Rogue set out for her daily walk around the grounds, carrying with her a hot cup of cocoa that warmed her hands through her gloves. All around her was white thick snow that fell the night before, blanketing everything in sight. In the distance, she could see Ororo and Hank skating on the frozen over fountain, their laughter echoing as they attempted to help each other stay upright. The memory of Bobby and Kitty doing the same thing, years ago, washed over her.
When she had left the mansion that same night with the intention of taking the cure, Logan told her he hoped it wasn’t for some boy. His words had lashed at her the entire three days she stood in that lineup outside the clinic, until she finally walked away, knowing he was right. Breaking up with Bobby had been the right thing to do, despite her heartbreak, and when the cure ended up being temporary, she was grateful for Logan’s words. She couldn’t imagine having the ability to touch returned to her, only to have it taken away again. But the next time she saw Logan, at Jean’s funeral, her intent to thank him fell away in the face of his grief. The whole world, including her, ceased to exist to him.
And that had hurt. A lot.
“Bonjour, cher.”
She turned, not surprised to see him, having caught his scent the moment she had stepped outside. Rogue forced a smile.
“Hi, Remy.”
He took the cup out of her hands and swallowed its contents whole, flashing a grin at her protests before giving it back to her.
“Ah’m not very good company Remy.” She told him honestly, looking into her now empty mug. Snow began to fall gently around them. He reached out a gloved finger to caress her cheek, his scarlet eyes soft.
“Dis one takes your company anyway he can get it, petit.”
They stood there, looking at each other, one feeling a deep sadness, the other a deep want. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close. “How long does Remy have to wait?”
She could only look at him helpless, mesmerized by what she saw in his eyes. She licked her lips nervously and his eyes shot downwards, taking in her movement.
“Mon dieu, Rogue,” he breathed, eyes glowing. “How I want you.”
She leaned into him, unable to tear her eyes from his. “No, Remy.”
His lips were so close to hers, and she felt the familiar, rising panic take hold of her. She didn’t want to push him away, not again, and a lone tear escaped her eye when she realized he intended to kiss her.
“We can’t, we can’t,” she whispered, wanting so desperately to kiss him. Remy’s concerned face swam in front of her as a wave of dizziness hit her, and she went limp against him, weak. Suddenly, his hold on her was gone and she fell to the ground.
Dazed, she looked up to see an enraged Wolverine holding Gambit up by his coat lapels.
“What the fuck do ya think yer doing, bub?”
Gambit hands began to glow purple. Frantic, she jumped up and pulled at Logan’s arms, forcing him to let Remy go. Without taking his eyes off the other man, Logan asked her tersely, “You alright, kid?”
She nodded, anxious to cool down the two powerful mutants. “Yes. Yes, Ah am Logan. Really.”
Pulling her close to his side, he snarled, “She said no, Cajun.”
Remy adjusted his coat and flashed a jaunty smile, despite the dangerous glint in his eyes. “’Dat, so?”
He got a warning growl in response and Rogue quickly placed her hands over Logan’s knuckles, effectively preventing him from drawing his claws. Logan looked down at her, angered that she would protect Gambit, surprised that she kept her eyes downcast, docile. Logan glared at the man in front of him.
“She can kill you, swamp rat. And if she doesn’t kill you, surviving ain’t pleasant either.” He got right in Gambit’s face. “You might think it’s worth it, but you should know that anyone who touches her skin leaves a copy of them and their memories in her mind, trapped like a screamin’ ghost. I don’t want the likes of you ramblin' in her head, got it?”
Rogue was blinking rapidly, gripping Logan’s hands and wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn’t bear to look at him, humiliated by his description of her mutation. Overwhelmed, everything began to spin around her, and the roaring in her ears became louder and louder. She had no time to brace herself before she lost consciousness, falling in a dead faint.
Logan caught her easily, shouting her name. With another warning growl directed at the Cajun, he lifted her into his arms and held her close, calling out to Hank who quickly followed them to the mansion when the doctor caught sight of Rogue’s limp form.
Remy followed them, battling with the jealousy he felt seeing her in another man’s arms. Ororo sent him a look of sympathy as they quickly made their way to the sick bay, not knowing how to explain the complicated mess that was the connection between Rogue and Logan. She couldn’t even explain it to herself.
But as Gambit watched Wolverine place Rogue gently onto the hospital bed, he was confident of one thing. She was going to be his. The Wolverine needed to let Rogue go.