Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks so much to Jenni for the beta and the ideas.

If you're wondering about the rating the NC17 stuff comes later! Enjoy!
Tucking the last of the attire she’d deemed necessary into her bag, Rogue glanced around her room once more. She’d grown in this room, grown from a scared, half-starved runaway into a woman who was confident within her own skin. Smirking slightly at the pun, she shook her head but refused to back down from the thought. Within these four walls she’d learned that her skin was merely another part of her. Another facet of her identity, one that she knew at least one other person on the planet accepted completely.

Smiling sadly Rogue licked her lips and glanced around the room again. There was so much of her within these walls, so many things she’d collected, and yet each also bore the touch of a gruff loner who liked nothing more than a good fight. Shaking her head Rogue exhaled sharply as she thought of Logan. Nine months after Jean had defected to the Brotherhood, leaving several of the mansion residents... including the Professor... in serious condition, Logan had packed up and left. There had been no indications from him of unrest, no warning at all. Rogue had been awoken by the sound of a motorcycle leaving the grounds and rushed to the window to watch the fading taillight of Logan’s Harley disappear down the driveway.

Of course he’d called since then, even written a few times, but he’d never revealed where he was or what he was doing. If it hurt that he didn’t trust her with that knowledge, she refused to acknowledge it; instead she treasured the indication that he still thought about her which the fact that he called at all revealed.

“Rogue, the cab is here,” the soft, calm tone had Rogue smiling as she gathered her bags. Turning to the door she nodded at Storm who stood smiling softly at her.

“Thanks,” she owed herself this reward, this break from the ordinary monotony of her world, “You sure you can handle me being gone for so long?”

Chuckling, Storm nodded, “We’ll get by. Have fun and relax okay?”

“I’ve got my cell phone and will touch base with y’all regularly. And I haven’t forgotten that I need to invest in lots of trinkets for everyone.”

“Have fun,” ‘Ro replied softly as Rogue walked beside her down the staircase to the main doors. “And don’t worry about your skin. Being ‘on’ doesn’t mean anything bad is going to happen. Enjoy yourself, relax, and quit worrying about things we can’t do anything about.”

“I’ll see you in a few months,” Rogue nodded and smiled a friendly, understanding smile at ‘Ro’s words. The supposed cure was a fake, it had lasted a few months but like everything else in her life had come full circle and the part of her that had been ripped away, that part of her soul had come back with a vengeance. She’d nearly freaked when she’d woken one morning with an all too familiar tingle in her fingers, a current that raced along her skin with careless abandon.

She’d spent the day crying softly before she’d forced herself out of bed, out of her room and into the regular things that were happening around the mansion. She refused to let that damn mutation kill her, refused to let it defeat her and so she’d done what she had to … kept on living. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, it just meant that she’d dealt with her fear and realized that with the right encouragement, the right reward, she would force herself to learn to control it.

It was one of the reasons she was taking off on this trip. If she could learn to touch, if she could learn how to be ‘safe’ maybe Logan would want her… slamming the door on those thoughts she smiled at Storm and hurried out the door to the running taxi cab that sat in the driveway.

“See you in a few months then,” Storm agreed watching Rogue hurry to the cab and climb in. Waving she watched Rogue close the cab door, watched as the yellow car disappeared down the driveway. Not for the first time did she wish Rogue all the happiness she deserved but had not found here at the mansion.


Smiling at the view, Rogue scanned the expanse of clear, rippling blue water that was the Atlantic Ocean. Inhaling, she closed her eyes and let the smell of salt water wash over her, soothing her mind and body even as she felt the gentle rocking of the boat beneath her feet.

With an indulgent look at her reflection, Rogue grabbed a dark green bikini set and slipped into it before wrapping a matching sarong around her waist and moving to sit out on her private deck.

She’d been admittedly surprised when she’d shown up for boarding only to find that the cruise ship she was expecting wasn’t what she’d be cruising on. Instead of a huge monstrosity she’d been led up the gang plank of what was obviously a privately owned or rented yacht.

The Captain, a tall, lean man with warm blue eyes had met her and offered his arm to show her around. She’d gracefully accepted the invitation and gotten a tour even as he explained the safety rules of the yacht and introduced her to several of the other guests.

Having been the last to board, she’d also been a little late and thus had missed the group tour. She noticed the blonde standing a little ways off eying her and the captain and wondered about it as the blonde’s face twisted into rage.

“Who’s that?” Rogue inquired, nodding at the blonde who stomped off the deck and headed below.

“That would be Cherie,” the Captain drawled with a soft chuckle. “She’s a handful that one. Been on these cruises twice and still hasn’t figured out that just because she’s riding on the yacht doesn’t mean she’s got a handle on the Captain. I do hope you won’t have too much to worry about with her, she’s the jealous type, I think.”

“I’m sure I’ll get along just fine,” Rogue replied with a soft smile and nod as they moved along to where the lifeboats hung.

Introductions to the crew were quick, professional, and Rogue was grateful when the tour concluded as she made her way to her stateroom. Slipping inside she stared at the room itself for a few seconds before grinning and moving to lie down on her bed. Decorated in natural woods and gold the entire yacht was something out of a romance novel and Rogue had felt immediately at ease with the crew. The fact that she was a mutant hadn’t bothered any of the crew; in fact a couple had actually smiled at her and played it down like it was nothing when she’d given the captain the warning about her skin – better to air on the side of caution she figured rather than risk them finding out after a bad accident.

If she had been surprised at the boat itself, Rogue had to admit she had been shocked at the stateroom she’d been given. A huge queen bed sat in the middle with white and gold linens on it. Her private bath had a shower in it, along with adequate lighting for makeup application, freshly laundered towels, and bottles upon bottles of shower gels. Obviously it wasn’t going to be just another boring old cruise like she’d heard about.

She’d kept to herself for the past week, just needing time to unwind, to relax and enjoy the fresh air. It had taken a formal invitation from the captain to get her to think about dining with the others guests tonight, and for once she was actually looking forward to it, missing the camaraderie inherent to shared meals after getting so used to them at Xavier’s.

Determined to enjoy herself, Rogue refused to dwell on anything to do with the mansion, with the pain of knowing that many of her friends had suffered in the past months. She couldn’t keep thoughts of Logan out of her mind, but then she’d never really tried to keep those thoughts contained. Logan was, after all, the only one who truly mattered to her.

The warm salty breeze that ruffled the sheer drapes of her stateroom teased the strands of Rogue’s hair as she clipped it into place. Reaching for the long, dark silk scarf she’d decided to wear to dinner along with her gloves, she glanced at her reflection with a sad smile before slipping on her shoes and heading for the door.

Smoothing the dark silk of her dress over her curves, she headed for dinner, trying to keep the anxiety that came with interacting with strangers down to a bare minimum. With a genuine smile, Rogue slipped into the dining room and nodded briefly at the other occupants.

An older, gray-haired couple stood off to the side, their heads close together, like they were speaking to only each other. From the way they were dressed, Rogue knew they had to be wealthy; the tailored clothes spoke of familiar wealth. In fact, the man reminded her of the Professor and the way he often dressed.

Standing next to the stairwell was the tall, curvaceous blonde with a dress cut down to there, high heels, and a sour look on her face as she glanced disdainfully at Rogue who shrugged. The woman obviously hadn’t figured out that Rogue wasn’t chasing the captain, or anyone else on board for that matter.

Her eyes skipped across the room to the bar and Rogue turned her head slightly to stare in amazement at the broad shouldered figure standing drinking bourbon, his back to the gathered guests.

His dark curls were tamed down, long enough to brush his collar in the back. A charcoal grey suit hugged every curve, every inch of his body from his shoulders to his lean hips and muscular thighs. Eying him quietly, Rogue wondered briefly who he was, even as he turned to reveal a clean shaven face.

His square jaw held the shadow of a full beard, his lips were full, masculine, and Rogue wondered if he knew he looked like he was supposed to be kissed a lot. A pair of dark-lensed designer glasses covered his eyes; much like a familiar visor did on someone back home. Shivering at the sudden sense of deja-vu she glanced away from the familiarity wrapped around the man. Instead she turned her attention to the lovely table that sat awaiting their presence. Rogue moved to the beautifully set dinner table. Taking a seat, she reached for her napkin and slid it into her lap.

“Good evening,” she smiled at the older woman who sat down on her right.

“Good evening,” the woman replied warmly. “I’m Elisa Monroe; this is my husband, Frank.”

“Howdy,” the man nodded at her as he sat next to his wife.

“Rogue,” she held out her gloved right hand, not really expecting it to be taken but willing to show her manners. She hid her shock when the older woman took the hand and shook it quickly, firmly. There was no indication of fear or loathing from the older woman and Rogue was immediately grateful.

“It’s good of you to join us. We noticed that you were last to board and the Captain gave you the safety tour but we haven’t seen you since then, I do hope you haven’t been ill,” Elisa stated quickly as a waiter appeared to pour a glass of champagne.

“Oh no,” Rogue shook her head quickly in denial. “I was merely relaxing. I live and work in a very crowded facility so it was a relief to have some space to myself. That and I’ve never been on a boat before so I needed a little time to settle in.”

“Oh yes, I remember my first voyage,” Elisa chuckled easily. “It was for our honeymoon, and we took an Alaskan cruise. I loved it. Are you enjoying the ship?”

“Yes, yes I am,” Rogue replied as the blonde joined them followed quite quickly by the man from the bar, who settled in the seat on Rogue’s other side.

“I’m Cherie,” the blonde snapped waspishly, “My husband decided I need to relax so I’m stuck aboard this floating tin can.”

“I’m... uh not sure...” Rogue started, shocked at the mention of the woman’s husband. From what the Captain had said, she’d assumed the woman was single and looking for a wealthy husband.


“Oh don’t mind her, she’s been like that since we met her the first day,” Frank said quickly a frown crossing his face at the blonde’s lack of manners. “I’m glad to hear that you’re enjoying yourself. And it’s a pleasure to have such a beautiful young woman grace us with her presence, right Els?”

“Indeed. We are delighted,” the woman smiled.

Rogue smiled thankfully and glanced at the man sitting to her left, “Are you, uh, enjoying yourself as well?”

The tip of his dark head was the only answer, that and a faint smile.

The discreet cough from behind her had everyone including Rogue glancing up at the tall, well dressed waiter, “Mister Mustelidae doesn’t speak. He has other means of communication though.”

With a glance at the man the waiter quickly smiled, “I can fetch your translator easily.”

A wave of a hand accompanied a shake of his head and the man turned to smile at Rogue and offer his hand to be shaken. His grip was firm, warm and familiar. Rogue smiled back softly before glancing away, hoping no one noticed her slight flushed expression. The familiarity about the man had her heart pounding, and she wondered what it was about him that appealed to her.
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