“Hey--”

Her soft voice stilled his hand on the door. He quickly turned to be met with a pale angel’s face. Her eyes were wide with worry, her lips parted in anxiety, one long brown lock stuck to their moistness–the same face she gave him right after their car accident.

“You runnin’ again?”

He shook his head, feeling extremely stupid of himself at her demure smirk. He looked down at his feet so she didn’t see the relief flash in his eyes. For a few seconds he thought she was going to cry.

“No,” he shrugged. “Not really.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself and preparing an answer to give her before he finally met her bottom-less eyes. “I have some things to take care of up north.”

She faintly snorted under her breath, not in the least bit fooled by his line. But still she didn’t call him on it and just swallowed her words. Since she didn’t bother keeping up the pretense of his crap neither did he and he nodded in surrender.

To break the thick tension he reached out and ghosted his finger across the phantom stripe falling against her cheek. She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “I kinda like it.”

His face visibly darkened as he held back the unwarned rush of tears that suddenly threatened to break his facade at her attempt to assuage him of any guilt. However it seemed to do very little of it and he could only nod in response, not willing to trust his tightening voice.

The quick play of emotion across his face failed to get past her and it was enough to strength her own resolve and find some sort of backbone for her courage. She took a deep breath, swallowed her pride, and looked into his haunted eyes with her strong ones. “I don’t want you to go,” she declared, not caring how thin the ledge she was stepping onto was.

He took a quick sniff, unconsciously wanting to remember everything about her in that moment. Spurred on by her show of strength he knew immediately what to do. He didn’t see the fleeting smile on her face as he reached for the dog tags around his neck. With a yank they came off before he gently took her hand in his and let the metal fall slowly into her palm. Then he tucked her fingers securely around it.

His fingers lingered on top of hers. “I’ll be back for this,” he promised even through the sandpaper than seemed to line his constricted throat. His hand didn’t release its grip, nor did his eyes leave hers. He stayed locked onto her for what seemed like forever both trying to communicate and hoping she understood. With one last sad smile he turned around, not dropping her hand until he was half way out the door.

She watched his blurred retreating figure until she couldn’t see him anymore. Than she just watched the door he left through, some how completely unmindful of how heavy her hand was growing with the old tag weighing it down.

“Rogue!” Kitty busted into the entry way, giggling. “Come on, Rogue. Bobby needs you! We’re kicking his butt three ways from Tuesday without you there to bail him out!” The stoic stance of her friend’s back finally registered and her giggles died down into a soft pant. “Rogue? ...You okay?”

“Fine,” she answered, finally looking away from the door down to the object in her hand. “I’m fine,” she nodded then whispered, “He’ll be back.”

“No,” she whimpered as she trashed weakly in her bed. “No, please...” Her begging went on in vain, useless words floating into the darkness of her room. Her eyelids danced wildly against the images playing on them, images no matter how much the others tried; only she could see.

“Logan,” a voice deep inside her cried out loud. “Stop hurting him.... Please just stop it!”

“Logan!!” She shrieked as she launched straight up in her bed. Finally freed from the nightmare she took deep breathes, trying to convince her heart to still before it came clean out of her chest. The pool of sweat that dripped along the side of her plastered her hair onto her face, assuring that the bold white streak was always firmly within her view.

She folded her self in half, curling on top of the sheets. Her hands came together, clutching each other desperately over her chest, the battered metal tag hanging from one wrist threatening to come between them.

The horrid images only invaded her sleep when she wore the tags. Logan being pummeled to death in a steel cage fight, Logan being experimented on, awake and cut to pieces at the lap, Logan being riddled with gunfire, Magneto twisting him and— She folded together tighter, every image was just as bad and gruesome as the next. All Logan, all of him dying and her being too far away to even know about it. They had to have been stored in the tags, its corrupt memories twisting with her own fears. But she couldn’t bring herself to take them off. He gave them to her and she’d take them off. When he came back for them. She could handle it until then.

“Hey, Rogue, wait up a sec!” Bobby called from behind her. She turned around and waited as he jogged through the crowded hallway to get to her.

“Hey, Bobby.”

“Hey,” he grinned, out of breath. She hugged her books to her chest, feeling uncomfortable under his glazed. He seemed to realize he was starring and laughed again, shaking it off.

“So,” he started, “You’re coming from the Professor’s physics class, right?”

“Yeah,” she forced a smile, a little relieved by the small talk. “We had a test today.”

“Yeah? How’d it go?”

“Oh, you know the Professor,” she laughed a little and shrugged. “He thinks we all are potential geniuses or something. It was insanely hard, I’ll be lucky if I passed.”

“Nah, I’m sure you did fine. You’re really smart.”

She looked down at the floor when he blushed. Unconsciously her fingers moved to stroke the tag dangling off her other hand.

Bobby laughed again, out of no where, and then cleared his throat. “Listen, Rogue. I wanted to ask you something.”

She looked up horrified by the tone in his voice. “Bobby, I don’t think---”

“No, just let me talk for a sec, okay?” He took her elbow in his hand and led her out of the center of the hallway off to the side. The near panic on her face was all he saw, not that her hand was no longer stroking the tag but desperately clutching it.

“I know you’re worried about your skin,” he began, not removing his hand from her elbow. “But I’m not. It doesn’t bother me at all, Rogue. I think...I think you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Bobby--” She choked out.

“No,” he stopped her. “You are. You’re beautiful and smart and kind and strong and---” he swallowed and looked down at the floor nervously. “Anyway. What I’m trying to say is I really like you. A lot. And I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go out with me some time, please?”

She sighed and forced herself to meet his face. It was so innocent, open, and pure, hungry and desperate all at the same time. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she looked like a few months ago. What everyone looks like when they’re shamelessly bearing a part of their soul.

“I’m sorry, Bobby,” she reluctantly whispered. “I...I just can’t. Not yet.”

He nodded, obviously already a little bit prepared for rejection. His eyes dropped, meaning to look down to his feet in defeat but they never made it that far. They finally feel onto the tiny gloved fingers clinging to the old scrape of metal with everything they had.

“Rogue, he’s not coming back,” he said as gently as he could.

Her hand finally released the tag as she adjusted the books in her arms. “Yes he is. He said he was coming back for them.”

“But not for you,” he pointed out.

For a fleeting second she looked as if he’d slapped her before her features settled back to their placid calmness. She just put a smile on her face for him and shrugged her shoulders.

“Well,” He fidgeted on his feet. “Good luck, Rogue, I hope you get what you what. Just remember, I’m always here for you, okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks, Bobby.”

She hadn’t realized she fell asleep on the couch until Kenny plopped down on it for his nightly routine. He shot her a curious glance before locking onto the T.V. Finals were finally over, yet there was no weight lifted off her shoulders. She shrugged it off, chalking it up to loss of sleep and wished Kenny goodnight to maybe try and correct that.

Barely three steps into the hallway she heard Jean’s voice and she stopped to listen. Jean was on the phone with somebody evidently. She talked about the Professor, how great Scott was, and then told whoever it was he’d better save all that charm when he needed a room in some vacant town. She stepped into the door, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Jean already had the phone hung up when she walked in.

“Rogue, dear, what are you still doing up?” She asked, walking over to her.

“Was...was that Logan?” she asked, hating the meekness in her voice.

“What?” Jean looked down to the phone quickly. “Oh! Yes, it was. He needed to know how to reach the Professor.”

Rogue nodded, her fingers already itching toward the chain on her wrist. “Did he say anything?”

“Who, Logan?” Jean narrowed her eyes confused at her. “You know, Logan. He’s not exactly a talker, but he sounded alright, if that’s what you mean.”

She swallowed. “So he...he didn’t say when he was coming home?”

Jean’s face softened and she closed the distance between them, putting her hands on Rogue’s shoulders. “No, honey, I’m sorry. He didn’t.”

“Did he, he didn’t happen to ask about me? Talk to me? Did he?”

Jean only shook her head and patted her shoulder before leaving Rogue alone in the study. Rogue looked to the phone, willing it to ring again. But it remained as emotionless and quiet as Logan had been. Her fingers dropped the tag as her hand fell limply to her side.

The months moved on passed her. Christmas, the New Year, all came and went without her eyes or heart registering any of it. All there was was the nightmares that became of life of their own. No longer was it just Logan in danger, but now Logan with other women, Logan not being defeated in a cage fight but instead enjoy it, savagely beating his opponent, Logan beheading men in black masks then opening his blood soaked arms.

Then there were the dreams, the fantasies, of her and Logan together. They were so beautiful and all the more painful in their absurd fakeness. It all spun around her until she didn’t know what reality drained her more. But still she could not remove the tags from their place around her wrist.

Months, and still he had not come home. It was only two other times that she knew of that he called the mansion, once talking to the Professor the other to Jean again; neither did he ask to speak to her. Neither did he give them any information to pass on to her. All they told her was that ‘he was fine’. That she shouldn’t worry over someone with a healing factor. That he was just being Logan.

She tried to drag herself out of her own misery, sick of her own pathetic ness. Then she heard the noise. The blessed sound of the roaring and all the heaviness in her soul rushed out faster than she could barrel out of her room. It was definitely the unmistakable rumbling of a motorcycle engine. He was back.

She actually laughed as she shoved students out of her way to get to the front door. None of it matter. Not the waiting, not the nightmares, not the looks and the stares she got from people, none of it. He was back.

The black beast came to a dust-blowing stopped right as she busted out of the door. He swung his leg over the side, stepping off.

“Rogue,” he greeted when he saw her.

Her whole body locked up and froze. Her heart stopped beating; her chest stopped bringing in air, her pale skin lightened to near translucent levels.

He quickly took her helmet off and threw it aside. “Rogue, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, no longer able to keep the tears that had been welled up for over a year at bay. Her own sobs choked her but still she didn’t move.

“Rogue, what the hell is the matter? Do you want me to go get Jean?” he asked worried, his gloved hand coming to hold her behind her head.

“No, Scott,” she pushed his hand away and stepped back. “No. I’m...I’m fine.”

“You sure?...” he asked skeptically.

“Yeah.” She didn’t wait for him to say anything else and just started walking. She didn’t know where she was going, she was just moving further down the driveway, away from the mansion. Away from all the people and everything.

Her body moved along the graveled path but her mind replayed all those images in her head. Images she had a year to create and he had just as long to ruthlessly tear them down. It was not some hopeless, unknown crush of hers. He knew. He knew how much she loved him. He told her as much with his eyes just before he walked out the door.

He knew. The bastard knew.

She suddenly collapsed to her knees onto the hard surface of the drive way. Her momentum sent her forward but she caught herself with her hands. Her gloves kept them from getting scraped. He knew.

She moved to wipe the cascading tears off of her eyes but yelped in pain when the hard metal of the chain scrapped across her face. Her other hand flew up and grabbed at it, not rubbing or caressing it, but clawing at it. She tugged on it but it refused to release its grip around her wrist. A frustrated scream escaped through the tears as she pulled on it again with all her might until finally the clasp gave.

It looked so defenseless in her trembling hand. It looked like such a perfect symbol of love. But it was nothing but an unwanted, painful lie; just as unwanted as she was. And she foolishly took it; took it from a man who so easily gave it too her. He knew and still he gave it to her.

She shook her head, cursing herself and him. Then she gathered all the strength she had and threw the useless scrap as far down the barren driveway as she could with a wretched roar. She didn’t even hear it land. Now it was just as unwanted to her and she was to him.

THE END


Almost Lover- A Fine Frenzy

Your fingertips across my skin
The palm tress swaying in the wind
Images
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes
Clever trick

Well, I never want to see you unhappy
I thought you’d want the same for me

[Chorus]
Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I’m trying not to think about you
Can’t you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

We walked along a crowded street
You took my hand and danced with me
Images
And when you left, you kissed my lips
You told me you would never, ever forget
These images

Well, I’d never want to see you unhappy
I thought you’d want the same for me

[Chorus]
Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I’m trying not to think about you
Can’t you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

I cannot go to the ocean
I cannot drive the streets at night
I cannot wake up in the morning
Without you on my mind
So you’re gone and I’m haunted
And I bet you are just fine

Did I make it that
Easy to walk right in and out
Of my life?

[Chorus]
Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I’m trying not to think about you
Can’t you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

The hot summer sun baked his back while the heat coming off the engine flamed against his front, effectively trapping and cooking him. The bike was a stupid idea but for some reasoned he figured she’d be listening for it, so he kept it.

Then the heavy iron gates of Xavier’s Institute appeared in front of him and he could almost not feel the blistering heat anymore. They immediately opened for him so he didn’t even have to slow down. That was till a gleam just ahead in the road caught his eye.

Curious, he brought the bike to a stop beside it. It was half buried, left out here for God knows how long. He leaned the bike over to pick it up before its familiar shape stilled his hand. His breath caught in his throat as he rubbed a thumb over it, dusting it off. The numbers glared hatefully back at him.

The engine under him was gunned and he tore down the rest of the way to the looming, imposing mansion. He turned quickly; bringing the bike to a sudden stop right in front of the glaring man waiting for him.

“Watch it, you animal! You’ll tear it up like that!” Scott hissed.

He jumped off and let the bike dropped unnoticed to the ground. “Where is she?” He growled at the other man. “Where’s Rogue?”

“Rogue? She was sitting on the patio the last I saw her. But what does that—Hey!”


He was already marching away from him, his fist balled tightly at his sides. He quickly cut through the grounds, circling around to the back lawns. Then he saw her, sitting curled up on a swing on the patio, a book in her lap. He just stopped.

Her head immediately lifted and she looked right at him. Her mouth gapped opened, but only for a split second. Then it closed and pursed together just as she slammed her book shut and jumped to her feet.

“Hey!” He had to run to catch her. “Rogue!” He yelled when she kept moving away from him.

“Leave me alone, Logan. Better yet, just leave,” she threw over her shoulder at him.

He managed to grab her upper arm and spun her back around to face him. Big brown eyes that he hadn’t seen it nearly a year and a half glared back at him. The metal tag in his hand jiggled under his grasp, making him glare back at her.

The stand off was broken when he opened his hand, lifting in front of her face. Her eyes, however, didn’t so much as sneak down to the metal, no matter how bright the sun danced off of it.

“I gave you these,” he growled, lifting them higher. “I *told* you I’d be back for them.”

“And now you have them,” she replied sternly. “I guess you can leave now.”

He snarled, clenching his fist shut again. “It wasn’t just about the tags, Rogue. You know that. You *know* that.”

“I know I’m done with this conversation.” She ripped her arm out of his grasp and spun back around towards the door.

She didn’t get very far before she was once again in his grasp, this time being backed into the side of the mansion.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What happened?”

She shook her head and tried to shove him back but his enhance body remained immobile, not matter what. “You bastard, you know exactly what happened. Nothing happened. You just left.”

His face softened and he blinked at her. “But...I left you my tags. I--”

He actually stumbled at her violent push. “You left me your tags?! You left me your nightmares! You left me your darkness! You left me all your hate and pain and---”

“I left you my love!” He screamed, digging his fingers and tags into her arms.

“But you weren’t here!” She countered in a shrill wail. “What the hell am I suppose to do with any of it and not you?! You bastard, you left me to drown in all of it! And you took your damn precious time getting back to save me!”

“I'm here--” He whispered frantically.

Tired, deep brown pits leveled with his needy hazel eyes. “It’s too late, Logan. I’m already gone. Sugah, I drowned three months ago. What were you doing while I was treading water?”

Silence. All he had for her was silence and she gave him that same faint snort under her breath. “That’s what I thought.” She shouldered his static frame out of her way and headed for her escape route.

“Marie.” Her name was shortly followed by a bare hand against her cheek and then soft, trembling lips pressed against her own. She tried to step away from him, but he only followed her backwards until he had her body pressed back against the wall again. There was no way of telling who the whimpering sounds between their lips belong too, but neither it nor the pull of her mutation did little to dissuade the slow, lazy slide of his lips against hers.

Finally his mouth was pulled away from hers as he fell forward, crushing her body against the wall. “Logan,” she choked out against the tears still caught in her throat and the lack of fresh air getting to her lungs, and the images and memories playing out in her mind, finding their partners in her own library.

His unforgiving weight remained right where it was. “I’m here. I’m here,” he whispered weak and coarse against her neck.

She sniffed back her tears and her hand came up to pet his chaotic hair as she kissed the top of his head. Her other hand traveled slowly down his arm to his open hand where the tags were dangling precariously; not yet falling just because they were so tangled in his fingers. She closed her fingers around his, securing the tags safely in his palm.