In all honesty, Scott looked pretty good –if you were planning to perv on him notwithstanding his situation. He lived like a beggar the past few weeks, but his muscles appeared firm, but he definitely looked feeble, probably due to the emotional torment he was going through. Though bathed and clean, he still looked disheveled. He looked older, exhausted, like life had kicked him in the nuts and he was trying hard not to recover.

But Scott knew better than to let his depression get in the way of his appetite. Even if his eyes were tightly shut with bandages, he was eating his plate of omelet, sausages, toast, a hamburger, bacon, waffles like the feast it was. He didn't play the blind part, that's for sure. When he realized she was most likely staring at him because she was so quiet, he quipped, "I wasn't born with the shades, you know."

At least he's got a sense of humor now, Rogue thought, watching him intently from across the table. Thing is, she didn't really know what to say, so she settled for asking trivial questions. Nothing serious. You hungry? Want more bacon? She didn't know how to approach the sensitive Jean subject, but something was telling her that Scott was more than aware of what transpired lately.

After taking a sip of his coffee, Scott puts the small white mug down, 2 o'clock of his plate. He then dabs the corner of his mouth with the napkin from his lap. He takes a deep breath and looks up towards her. "Thank you for the meal."

Scott was probably just being polite, but Rogue suddenly had to blink back tears. He had always been such a good, strong guy and seeing him all frail, weak-like, made her feel downright sad. "F-for god's sake, Scott, you're my friend. Why haven't you tried calling the mansion!?"

"What's the use? It's not like she's going to be there," Scott answered with a nonchalant shrug. He raised a brow in her direction. "I'm not asking you why you're here in the middle of nowhere."

Rogue took a deep breath. She tries her best to be calm. "I'm sorry." She plays with the zip of her hood. "My bad."

"I'm not ready, I guess. After losing the link with her, I knew she was gone. Even if the Phoenix was…" he trailed off, the strength in his voice wavering. "I lost her. For good this time."

"It's not just about her, you know," Rogue said slowly, though she hoped the bitterness didn't seep from her voice. "I'm not saying you should go back now, but…"

"Why are you here, Rogue?"

Of course he's quick on this whole back and forth thing. Might as well hit him with the truth… at least some of it. "There's nothing for me there anymore." At least, not the way she wanted things to be. Rogue could already see LOGAN flashing in Scott's head in bright lights, but he didn't call her out on it, just because it was a low blow.

"Same for me–"

"I doubt it," Rogue cuts him off quickly. "The Professor would have wanted you to…" She swallowed then, saw the raw emotions on his face. Despair. Like she buried three adamantium claws in his chest.

"He's… gone, too?" The question came out like a choke, a whimper.

Of course he didn't know yet. It was The Phoenix's fault, but Rogue knew she couldn't tell him now. The way he's taking it, it's safe to say he'd rather wallow in private misery for a while. Saying his fiancé killed the man they saw as their father, she wanted nothing more but to wrap her arms around him, comfort him and tell him things would be ok soon. But she didn't have that power. She wasn't the perfect picture of beauty and serenity that was Jean Grey. Also, an accidental skin-to-skin brush could render them both in the situation he was in right now, so she kept to herself and instead, empathized for him. "I'm sorry, again. I shouldn't have–"

"No. It's…" Scott shook his head, kept his face down. "I didn't… I…"

Rogue didn't look at him either, afraid to see the dampness forming on those bandages over his eyes. But she reached out, searched for his hand and gave it a squeeze. She couldn't help the hot tears that brimmed her own eyes as well. It was inevitable that when she blinked, they fell on her cheeks. And it felt hot at first, the salty blues, then left a cold trail down her cheeks.

It's been the first time she cried in a long time.

"But Professor Logan…"

"SIR," Logan said with emphasis, turning his back to the students. He insisted that they shouldn't call him 'Professor Logan' because it sounded all kinds of wrong. Sir was enough. That wasn't so hard, wasn't it? And, he roared, "There will be NO exceptions!" Once his nose got the scent of fright, he left the classroom like it was on fire.

Just in time, Ororo had only just stepped out from her class, and with the way she was looking at him, he could tell she knew that he wasn't having such a good day. To his surprise, the woman didn't reprimand him at all. She just gave him a nod and a lopsided smile. "Logan."

"Ro."

The weather witch accompanied him through the hallway, as if readying herself for a conversation, but she stopped walking and shook her head, as if changing her mind.

"Danger Room for me then," Logan said, more for himself than his company. He hated teens. He hated teaching. In short, teaching teenagers were killing him faster than charging towards Magneto on a bad day.

"Logan," Ororo's voice interrupted his mental rant.

Logan turns his head to face her. She's looking at him with sincere eyes, and her scent is oozing with gratitude and relief.

"I just want to thank you," she said. "Thank you for returning every morning."

Logan felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, and he felt the need to scratch the back of his neck. Run a hand through his crazy hair. He cleared his throat and checked if he wore his boots this morning. He doesn't know what to say, knowing that she knew about his nightly excursions. "Ah…"

"Have a pleasant day, Logan," Ororo said, saving him from whatever awkward hilarity that might ensue.

Giving the woman a nod, Logan resumes his long strides towards the Danger Room. These hallways he patrolled every night looked every much as a normal school by day, like nothing could ever go wrong. You would think that the incident with Stryker didn't happen at all, didn't traumatize the mansion's housemates for at least a month. Remembering the man made him snarl, but then again, he was extra grumpy lately, considering he only got at least two hours of sleep each day. Or less.

If only he didn't have to put up with these damn kids every morning. What kept him alive was the thought that these kids were Marie, and they looked up to him –even if most of them were terrified and nervous most of the time. If there was one thing about Marie though, it was that she was never afraid.

God, kid, what you do to me, he thought, rubbing a tired palm over his face. He smiles fondly at her memory. But as soon as the smile appeared, he frowns again when he knew how useless it was –searching for Marie whenever school was over. But there was something about it, even if he was just driving aimlessly, that he felt like he was closer to her, like she would be just waiting somewhere and he would offer her a ride.

Damn. Maybe he secretly loved being the hero.

"There's Professor Logan!" someone said from the other side of the hallway, but before that teenage person could catch up to him, he stealthily ducks by the corner and slithers like a panther eager to escape to the Danger Room.

Nah, he thought. Hero my ass.

Playing house, Marie? Wolverine asked, clearly not entertained by what she just told the landlord. He sounded almost jealous, but as always, Rogue liked to think he was only fond of her because he was living in her head.

You are endeared to me, but as a daughter, Erik was quick to intercept her doubts.

The Erik in her head was biased, simply because they have been living together for 6 years. She knew about him more than anyone else ever could, and when he realized that it was useless to fight her, he had settled himself in the back of her mind as a friend. It was comforting, too, having this almost father figure in her head. Her own father had beat her up, and Charles wasn't really hers exclusively. Erik was a good guy, especially to mutants, and his only flaw was when he became overpowered by his own passionate beliefs.

Erik adds, Clearly, there is just something innately wrong with this animal.

There's nothing wrong with me, bub, Wolverine snapped. I just call 'em what I see 'em. And she's mine–

On that note, Wolverine was a mystery to her though. Perhaps it was because she had almost killed Logan twice, that his human conscious had really 'died', and the only living life force she had absorbed was his feral side. But to her surprise, Wolverine was just like Logan, only possessive, called her 'darlin', treated her what he liked to call a 'mate'. But whenever his thoughts pushed towards that direction, Rogue always tuned him out, believing that she was probably manipulating his thoughts to accommodate her desires. She was hopeless, that was for sure. Crazy hopeless.

Yours? Erik mocked, The real Logan let her leave like she meant nothing–

Wolverine growled. That's because Logan is an idiot.

That he is, ruffian.

TIMEOUT! Rogue screamed in her head, effectively shushing the two. "God, all of us are hopeless." She finally reached room 6. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to enter the room.

Play nice, darlin', she hears Wolverine warn right after she closes the door behind her.

"I hope you don't mind being my Mr Marie Danielson for tonight?" Rogue asked, her voice clearly teasing as she found Scott lounging by the bed, his legs spread, crossed at the ankles, pillow behind his back. The television was loud, and one would think he was just relaxing after a long, normal day.

Scott gave her a smile, a real one this time. "I'll be anyone you want me to be if I can sleep in a warm bed tonight."

Rogue felt like blushing, but Wolverine in her head was growling. She realized that she wasn't used to playful banter with other people. Bobby had always been a sweet guy. He never pushed her buttons; always took it slow. "Um, so I was thinking..." Initially, all her senses were telling her that ever since Scott found out about what happened to the Professor, he was more than open to the idea of returning to Wetchester –even if Jean wasn't there. But for now, she had to play it safe. "I need to head out tonight for extra cash. Will you be alright here on your own?"

Scott fingers the remote control, but Rogue's already by the television, turning the volume down. She watched as his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. "Look, Rogue…"

"Will you be alright on your own, Scott?" she asked again, her tone serious, firmer this time around. He was either going to say he was being a burden to her, or worse, say something else. OK, maybe it wasn't Scott who wasn't ready. It was her. She quickly walked to the kitchenette and opened the fridge. She took some of the snacks she bought earlier and placed them on the end table beside him. "Just rest, alright? I want to buy you some new clothes tomorrow. So I just need to be sure that you're going to be here when I return, comfy and well-rested."

Rogue knew she was a terrible rambler, that when Scott opened his mouth to speak, he immediately shut it close and nodded instead.

Thank goodness, Rogue breathed. "I'll see you later then," she said with a cheerful tone even she knew was forced. Giving him another nod he couldn't really see, she says goodbye and leaves their little room.

It took her about five huge steps away from Room 6 before she collapsed on the floor until she bawled like a fucking little girl. She pressed her trembling hands against her mouth, trying to suppress her sobs. But it was too much, seeing him helpless –seeing him again, period. He reminded her mostly of Logan –the broken man having escaped from the lab, nowhere to go. Scott reminded her exactly how weak she was, physically and emotionally. He was too close to home, it seems. Rogue didn't know if she could handle it, be strong for both of them. She also had this vibe that Scott was giving up on life like she was.

To her surprise, a strong set of arms enveloped her, and she immediately jerked from the contact. "Shh, Marie," Scott hushed her in a voice so quiet, she couldn't even tell it was him. More tears fell on her cheeks when she realized he was actually channeling Logan. Sick woman she was, she leaned back against him, more than willing to play along. "You're going to be alright. We are going to be alright."

Marie shook her head as she cried softly, clutching his arms fiercely against her chest, glad that she had all her layers of clothing on. After a few minutes, she managed to put a lid on her emotions, and she drew away from him, just so she can put her hands on his shoulders. "Scott, listen to me. You have to go back. You know you do. Please say you'll go back to New York. Please. They need you to be there. You need to be there."

To her relief, Scott nodded. "I know," he admitted. "But not now, Rogue. Give me a… few days. You can leave me here, I can survive on my own–"

"No, no, I can sustain us," she said quickly. Wiping the trails of tears from her face, she helped him up and escorted him back to their room even though she knew he was capable on his own. Once he was settled, she pressed her gloved palm against his cheek. Feeling the need to show him her appreciation for letting her have a good cry, she bent down and pressed a kiss against his hair. "Thanks, Scott."

Scott grinned at her, his face undeniably brighter than it was when she first found him. "Who would have thought we'd be together like this, huh?"

That scrawny ass better watch it, Marie! Wolverine spurted all of a sudden.

Rogue could only laugh softly before bidding him goodbye.