Rogue allowed herself to be led out of the Blackbird, but she refused to leave the hangar as Carol's body was brought out on the gurney. The Professor was waiting, and he rolled up next to Rogue and told her that he had called in his old friend, Dr. Henry McCoy, to help deal with the body. Rogue nodded and watched Storm and Scott wheel the gurney out of the echoing chamber. She followed them down the hall, feeling Logan like a shadow at her back, and watched as they passed the med lab and went to a door twenty feet past it. When Rogue looked in she saw a morgue much like the ones on TV. Scott and Ororo had opened one of the storage units and pulled out the slab. Gently they lifted Carol and laid her down. Ororo went to a drawer and pulled out a white sheet. She and Scott draped it over the prone form and pushed the slab back in, closing the door.
Rogue heard a little mewling sound when she heard the click of the door closing, and as she folded in on herself she realized that it must have been her. Logan's arms wrapped around her again, and Rogue let herself be lifted and carried away. Part of her felt as if she was the one on that cold slab, the part that had once been Carol. At the same time, Rogue felt Carol's relief that she could continue on, somehow, even after death. She supposed that might be a comforting thought to someone so dedicated to helping others.
She was almost surprised when she felt herself being lowered onto a familiar bed. There were her sheets, crisp and cool against her flushed face. She heard murmurs above her, but she didn't try to figure out what they were saying. It seemed as if this whole long day had gone horribly wrong. Feeling her comforter being tucked around her, she snuggled in and let the hot tears she'd been holding in escape as she heard her door close.
Minutes, or maybe it was hours, later, Rogue couldn't find any more tears to cry. She laid there in the dark, aware of another presence in her room. Deep breathing and the breeze from the vent near her bed told her who it was.
“Are you gonna stay here all night, Logan?”
“I'm here as long as you need me, Marie. Try to get some sleep.” His voice was gruff, close to a growl, and Rogue felt his hand smooth her hair away from her forehead. He must have been leaning on the wall next to her headboard.
Rogue made a quick decision and scooted over in her bed. “Lay with me? Please?” she begged, needing the comfort more than anything else in the world just then.
Logan didn't say anything else, but his heavy body was stretched out beside hers within seconds. He wrapped an arm around her and brought her up tight against him. Rogue tried hard to sleep, but it was if her mind just wouldn't shut off.
“I just...is it bad that I'm almost as sad that the cure wasn't real as I am that Carol died? I mean, I barely knew her, but she was really nice. Shouldn't I be more sad that someone died than I am because...” Rogue didn't want to say the words out loud.
“Because you lost hope that there'd be an easy way out?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I think it just makes you human, Marie. We all want to take the easy way out, and it's always disappointing when you realize you can't, that the easy way doesn't exist. I'll tell you something, though. It takes a really brave person to do what you did on that jet tonight. The kind of person who can get up the courage to work things through the hard way,” Logan said firmly.
Rogue thought about that. “I don't know that I can try for the hard way, though. It's...if I did that, I'd have to touch people. That's what the Professor says. I'd have to concentrate on touching someone and not pulling everything out of them. I don't know that I can do that. I might accidentally kill someone, or send someone else into a coma!” She knew that was practically a wail. Okay, it was a wail. That didn't make it any less of a valid complaint in her book.
Logan's arm tightened around her, and she felt him press a kiss into her hair. “If you want, I'll help you. We both know I can survive your touch, and it's not like you don't already have me up there in that head of yours. Maybe it'll even help you relax,” he offered quietly.
Rogue turned around so that she was facing him in the dark. All she could make out was the outline of his face, but it was enough. “You'd do that for me?” she asked hesitantly.
“Marie, I just dragged the entire X-Man team out to sit outside of a 'cure' clinic for hours on the off-chance that it might be a set-up, in case you needed help. I think a few touches aren't going to be any worse than Scooter's disapproval or Storm's indignation at having to be near one of those places. So, yeah, I think I could live with helping you try to control your mutation.” He sounded a little irritated, but Rogue didn't mind that. It was practically a good mood for Logan, after all.
Quickly yet gently she kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”
Rogue felt his hand—gloved, she now realized—firmly press her head down into the pillow. She felt him stroking her hair even as her eyes grew heavy. She felt inexplicably better. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad day after all.
“Go to sleep, Marie,” Logan whispered into the dark, hand moving to her back. Rogue fell asleep with him rubbing small circles along her shoulders, her head tucked under his chin.