One Minute.
"I'm sorry," he said but she wasn't listening.
"What happened?" she asked, eyes fixed on the Blackbird, waiting for the last member of the team, some gnawing sense of dread already knowing the answer before it ever came.
"It was an accident," Jean said. "Things got out of control. Logan-"
"I'm sorry," he said and Rogue shook her head.
One Hour.
"I never meant to hurt you," he said and she closed her eyes, sighing shakily as she let her forehead rest against the cold glass of the window that overlooked the gardens.
"I hate you," she whispered and he didn't try to deny it. "I wish you'd never done it, and if I could, I'd do everything different, Logan. Everything."
"I'm sorry," he said and she walked right past him.
One Day.
"I didn't have a choice," he said and she stared blankly at the mirror on her vanity, dangling an eyeliner pencil listlessly between her fingers.
"It's so strange here without him," she murmured and the pencil dropped onto the countertop, clattering down amongst the familiar, discarded nick-nacks lying there.
"I'm sorry," he said and she wouldn't look at him.
One Week.
"I wish I could have stopped it," he said and she was crying; red-eyed and runny-nosed. Real tears, the kind that come from a deeper hurt.
"It's not fair," she sobbed, hiccuping and shaken, clutching her pillow as she pulled her feet up onto the bed. "He's not here and I still need him..."
He reached out his hand, letting it hover in the air, just above her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said and she didn't reply.
One Month.
"I never knew it would be this hard," he said and she pressed her finger to the photograph by the bed, her touch wearing creases in the picture and a faded smudge down one side.
"I wish I'd told him all the things I never said," she murmured. "I wish we'd had the chance to be something more," and he flopped down on the floor, head in his hands, his back against the drawers by her bed, waiting for her to sleep.
"I'm sorry," he said, and she turned out the light.
One Year.
"I didn't think it would be like this," he said and she wavered on the doorstep, clutching the handle tightly for a moment, her simple black evening dress flaring around her legs with the night-breeze.
"It's too hard," she said. "I don't know if I can do this yet."
He glanced out across the lawn, to the place under the trees where her gaze always lingered and she took a steadying breath, centering herself before walking down the steps and into the unfamiliar car waiting for her, to the unfamiliar man inside.
"I'm sorry," he said and she disappeared down the driveway without looking back.
One Moment.
"I don't know what to do," he said and he realised he was alone.
She'd learned to smile again for the unfamiliar man and the picture by her bed now lived in a drawer. A stranger's things littered the room along with her everyday possessions and he sat on the bed and waited for her.
"I'm lost," he said, but she wasn't there to hear him.
Unto The End.
"I wish I'd had a second chance," he said and she smiled sadly, resting a single damask rose on top of the marble gravestone, hidden under the trees.
"I always loved you, Logan," she said. "Always. I wish I'd told you when we still had time. Before everything changed."
He reached out and touched her but not quite, tracing the path of the tear that rolled down her cheek yet never once brushing her skin.
"It's time to move on," she whispered.
"Yes," he said. Then, "I still love you."
And then he was gone.