LAW OF LIFE
thatcraftykid

“Change is the law of life.
And those who look only to the past or present
are certain to miss the future.”
– John F. Kennedy –

Part One
“Honest Development”

“Ever since I was a child I have had this instinctive urge for expansion and growth.
To me, the function and duty of a quality human being is the sincere
and honest development of one’s potential.”
– Bruce Lee –

~ “Strength to Endure” ~

It’s human nature to take certain things for granted. It’s a fact of life that, most of the time, we don’t notice how lucky we are to have the things that we do until we don’t have them anymore. Part of growing up is learning to take the time to look around and just be grateful, even when it seems like there’s more in life to be angry about than anything else. “It’s not fair.” I’ve whined that phrase hundreds of times, only to get the same answer: “Life’s not fair.” Well, fairness is subjective. Anytime something seems unfair to one person, there’s someone else in the world who sees it as perfectly fair.

As long as I can remember, the leading party in America has been the conservatives. Coming from a Southern background, I never questioned that. Now that I find myself on the opposite team, well, you can imagine that my bumper sticker doesn’t read, “Proud Member of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy.” From my point of view, popular conservative opinion is unjust and discriminatory toward mutants. The conservatives, of course, don’t see it that way. Therein lays the conflict. They are our enemy. Not in the same way that the Brotherhood is our enemy, but our enemy nonetheless. We fight them with words and through peaceful example. We protect them from ourselves.

There is a political beast in some ways worse than the conservatives, however, and they are the fence-sitters from both parties. President McKenna, as much as I admire him for fending off his own bloodthirsty constituents for so many years, was a fence-sitter. He adopted that position after that first meeting with Professor Xavier and stuck with it for the rest of his first term and throughout most of his second. Under President McKenna, we were forced to play a tense waiting game on a field of shaky equilibrium. Many mutant lives were lost in those six years, a lot of them ardent yet weary supporters of a man who wouldn’t, for fear of political backlash, publicly admit that they were human beings – good ones at that. All of those losses were hard, but none more so than the first. Dr. Grey’s death affected us all, and I was no exception. Her death forced me to take the first steps away from self-indulgent teenager and toward eventual adulthood.

I didn’t know Dr. Grey apart from what she was to me: teacher, X-Man, and the woman Logan loved. When she was alive, I didn’t realize that what she was was only a limited reflection of who she was. It didn’t occur to me to care until after she died. That might sound awful, but it wasn’t like I expected her to have any kind of a vested interest in me, either. I was her student, the girl she helped save from Magneto, and Logan’s stray. I didn’t think it would have surprised her to know that there was more to me than that, but it didn’t matter. It’s a lesson everyone has to learn. No one person is center of the universe.

The thing is, even knowing that, when I saw Logan kissing her the night before she died, I took it as a personal insult. I hated her. But it was a superficial hate that didn’t hold under the weight of my self-pity. I knew that kiss had nothing to do with me. That was probably why it hurt so much. If it had been about me, it would have fed my ego more than my jealousy. As it was, all I could muster were hurt feelings. Logan was the absolute number one in my life; I could only guess where I ranked in his. And I did guess, often. Every second he wasn’t paying attention to me I unconsciously pushed myself lower and lower in his estimation. It was a masochistic game I played with my emotions, but I was young then. And, to my credit, I grew up quickly after that.

Even back then, I was an incredibly introspective person – a byproduct of never needing too many friends as a child and of surviving on my own for four and half months with only a faraway sense of exploration and curiosity to keep me going.

I tended to think a lot about things, Dr. Grey’s death especially. Perhaps it was morbid, but her death fascinated and humbled me all at the same time. For one thing, she saved my life. Well, she saved everyone’s life, including mine. I couldn’t begrudge her after that. For another, her sacrifice was an entirely selfless act and, having been so self-involved for so long, that remarkable fact stuck with me. I began to admire selflessness, and later I aspired to it. It was a brave thing to do, too. It must have hurt like hell – both the force of the water crashing down on her and the leaving behind of the world and everyone she loved in it. Even so, she sounded astonishingly calm when she communicated through Professor Xavier. She made a choice that she honestly believed was right, and she stuck with it. Can’t ask a person to do more than that.

Her power, though, was the fascinating part. The absolute strength of it. She was everything for one moment. It felt like she controlled the world. Then she was gone. It was so shockingly abrupt that I couldn’t believe it. I was torn between Logan’s stunned acceptance and Cyclops’s desperate denial. Kurt’s simple prayer moved me. I’d forgotten how comforting it was to know, without a doubt, that death was not the end. I prayed with him, silently, trying to will back tears of my own so as not to infringe on anyone else’s pain. Before, I might have been resentful that it was her death that had moved the unshakable Wolverine to tears. I wasn’t.

Like I said, I grew up fast.

Maybe Professor Xavier sensed that from me and that’s why my on-order uniform arrived much earlier than expected. Then again, Bobby’s did too.

So maybe it was just a matter of us being there and looking like part of the team – a united front to present to President McKenna. Or it could have been a reward for keeping the cause when we might have been swayed by Magneto’s cruel logic the way John had been. If that was the case, he needn’t have worried about me. After the Statue of Liberty, a little of Magneto had lingered around the edges of my mind for a while, all grand intentions and misguided morals. To a certain extent, I was sympathetic, but I didn’t confuse sympathy with agreement. A forced martyr is not a martyr at all. If I was going to die for a cause, it wasn’t going to be Magneto’s. My loyalty was to Professor Xavier’s principle of peaceful coexistence, however impractical and idealistic.

For me, it wasn’t only an honor to be a part of the team; it was also a point of pride to hold the title of youngest X-Man ever recruited. I beat Bobby by two weeks and two days. He didn’t mind, but I still liked to tease him about it on occasion. Yes, I did still tease people despite all my talk of premature adulthood and emotional maturity. Humor is one of the best defenses anyone can have in this world. It’s necessary for balance and escape. The only other defense that can top humor is love.

It’s funny, I named myself Rogue in a burst of cockiness at being a badass pickpocket and runaway, yet I know I craved love more then than I ever did as plain old Mississippi-born-and-bred Anna Marie D’Ancanto. I had it easy there. My mom and dad were good to me and the kids at school were nice enough, though I never really felt the need to socialize all that much. I liked a few close friends who didn’t mind that I was a dreamer. David hadn’t minded. He listened to me talk endlessly about the adventures I was going to have, always with an air of indulgence. That afternoon in my room, I’d toyed with the idea of inviting him to come with me to Alaska. I ultimately settled for kissing him first.

For the longest time, I fixated and agonized over that decision. The three weeks I spent lying in my bed, staring up at my ceiling and thinking about David comatose in the hospital, I prayed that God would make it so the kiss had never happened. I guess I thought that if I could take back that one moment that I could take back everything, especially my mutation. It didn’t work. I held a grudge for as long as my life was shit, then I came to the school and things weren’t so bad anymore, so I forgot to be angry. There were times, nevertheless, when I blamed God because I couldn’t kiss Bobby. That was because nothing had ever been my fault. I was always a victim of circumstance. I eventually came to understand that when things I can’t control happen, it’s my responsibility to make them turn out the way I want. No one’s going to do it for me because no one controls my actions. The catch-22 of freewill, I suppose.

Kurt and I have had a lot of discussions about freewill. Just after graduation I became a sort of teacher’s aide to him despite the fact that I hadn’t taken yet taken any of his theology or German classes – the two subjects added to the curriculum after Professor Xavier invited him to stay. Kurt’s take on God-given freewill is something I’ve been pondering for years. He holds that all the twists and turns life takes are God’s way of helping us become better people. If everything were easy all the time then all of those heroic ideals we hold in such high esteem would be meaningless. Resilience and forgiveness. Sacrifice. It’s the idea that without hate there can’t be love and without pain there can’t be pleasure.

Yet, at the same time, I balked at the idea of being tested, of having my strings pulled to and fro so that I could be manipulated to live up to grandiose concepts that half the time I couldn’t even understand. I admitted that sentiment to Kurt one evening, quite hesitantly. I didn’t want him to think less of me because I had doubts. He, of course, didn’t and never would.

I remember, vividly, him smiling down at me, pointed teeth gleaming, unsettling yellow eyes fond. His sharp nail had been gentle where it touched my cheek. When he’d spoken, his voice had been soft and his words sincere. “With Him it is never a test, pass or fail, Anna Marie.”

He always calls me Anna Marie, even though I prefer Rogue. It’s because it’s like Mary. He thinks Mary is the most beautiful name in the world.

“There’s always another chance. We will fail most of the time and it will hurt,” he’d continued, his accent thickening as he spoke. “Then there will be times when we succeed magnificently. That is why we live.”

“I thought you said we live for love and faith?”

“Love is part of our success. Faith is what sustains us until we reach it, and the only thing we have left after we lose it. Faith is strength.”

“And bitterness makes us weak,” I’d finished the familiar sentiment.

“You’re a smart little lamb. I don’t understand why you do so poorly in my German class,” he’d teased, his triangular tail brushing the back of my chair as he walked past me to his desk. “Could it be my teaching, I wonder?”

We’d smiled at each other and settled into back into the flowing, angelic music that always accompanied our evening sessions. Once again my faith had been sustained through a demonic-looking blue man with more forgiveness and understanding in one of his hoof-like fingers than most people have in their whole bodies. Like Dr. Grey, Kurt played a huge part in shaping the person I am today. More so, because I was given the opportunity to really know Kurt as a person. Which is a pretty rare thing, even between friends.

Our friendship spawned from a mutual feeling of alienation, what with both of us being a couple of the biggest freaks in the freak show. Not that I’d ever tell him that. He doesn’t share my sardonic sense of humor. Sarcasm is the clever, more popular cousin of bitterness, but it’s bitterness nonetheless. Kurt is a much stronger human being than I will ever be. I lean on sarcasm like a crutch. It’s too late to learn to walk without it. I find it too comfortable. But who would we be without our little flaws? Better people maybe, but certainly not ourselves.

At any rate, I started hanging around Kurt the summer after Dr. Grey’s funeral. I was still clinging to my adolescent ways at that point. I was an X-Man, sure, but I was also still taking classes for my GED and dating Bobby and trying to make friends with Jubilee and Kitty even though we didn’t have much in common. It was a relaxed period that I took for granted. Bobby and I were never sent on any missions or anything dangerous, so we enjoyed the perks of being X-Men without any of the responsibility. The perks, for me, were all a matter of walking down the hall with an air of superiority, and getting to train with Logan one-on-one every day except Sunday and the days he, Cyclops, and Storm were gone on missions.

They weren’t gone a whole lot, actually. It was strange to have Logan around so often. It made me realize just how little time we’d really actually spent together before. Sharing life-alternating experiences with a person tends to forge a strong bond quickly. That, and the fact that pieces of him still lurked around my consciousness. I got it into my head and heart that he was mine so thoroughly that it didn’t seem at all unusual for me to seek him out to shoot a game of pool or just sit around and watch TV. I cringe when I think about how often I was around. Poor guy. It’s a wonder he put up with me. He got used to it eventually, and he must have come to enjoy it since he ditched me in favor of bars less and less as time wore on.

Meanwhile, I endeavored to become his confessor. I’d ask him about Stryker and Dr. Grey. He’d get really still when I did that. If he felt like it, he’d tell me bits here and there, leaving me to paste the full story together myself. Sometimes he’d just leave. I didn’t pursue as hard as I maybe could have. I figured if he wasn’t talking to me about it then he wasn’t confiding in anyone else, either.

Sadly, that was what mattered most. But it’s good that I didn’t push him at the time. It would have been for the wrong reasons.

~ Atom Tan ~

I don’t want to paint too awful of a portrait of myself, but don’t forget that I was still with Bobby the whole time I was attempting to spend my every waking hour with my best bud.

I always ran it by Bobby first and he’d say it was fine, of course. What was he going to do? It was Bobby. He had pride and integrity. He knew being with Logan made me happy so he let it go. If he’d really loved me, he wouldn’t have stayed in the background. I found comfort in that. It made my absolute lack of awareness toward him a little less heinous.

Bobby was with me out of a sense of obligation, to be honest. First I was the new girl he wanted to welcome, then I was the untouchable girl he wanted to make feel normal. Lots of our classmates gave him a hard time for dating me. I’d found evidence of more than one drawing from Peter Rasputin. Jubilee had actually shown a few of them to me when she was first dating him, I guess to impress me with the great Colossus’s sensitive side. It had been at lunch, with Bobby sitting right beside me. She’d failed to notice, or care, that it was us being depicted in some of those drawings. If there was anyone more selfish than I in this world it was Jubilation Lee – God love her.

“He’s talented,” was all Bobby had said, his hand resting over one showing him being electrocuted by my kiss. He’d been trying to shield me the way he did whenever he told me he wasn’t afraid of my skin. He really should have been. If he’d been wary, maybe what had happened that day at the pool would’ve become such a huge deal. Not that I’m blaming him. You can’t blame someone with pure motives.

It was the last week of August, the end of summer vacation. Some of the kids had gone home for the duration and those left weren’t hanging around the pool despite it being warm and bright out. There was some sort of X-Men meeting going on, but Bobby and I decided our attendance wasn’t necessary.

He wanted to spend time with me, and I wanted to break in my new bathing suit and get a tan. I was tired of being pasty white. I didn’t much care that it was dangerous for me to be walking around with so much bare skin showing. My wardrobe was pretty risqué back then. I’d wear the long gloves, but I’d also wear sleeveless shirts with plunging necklines. I’d chosen that bikini specifically because it had the least amount of actual fabric per any two-piece in the store. I swear Bobby had the self-control of a monk in a brothel. I was a tease, no matter how innocent I thought myself at the time. I just figured it didn’t matter. Regardless of how sexy I looked, nothing was ever going to happen. My mutation was the chastity belt that would not quit. Any other eighteen year-old boy would’ve been running around behind my back constantly. Not Bobby. He made do with our five-second kisses and my ever-more revealing choice of attire.

“It’ll be weird next semester,” I remarked to him as we treaded water in the pool, just to make conversation. “I mean, we’re in college but we’re still in the same place with the same teachers. Usually when you think of college, you think of going away from home. It’s worse than if I’d gone to Community back in Meridian.”

“We could’ve applied to other schools,” Bobby pointed out.

“Please. Our transcripts are from Mutant High. Who’d accept us?”

“Katie Fischer is going to Brown and – what’s his name? The kid in our physics class. We call him Alchemy, but what’s his real name? Tony?”

“Tommy.”

“Right. Tommy. Anyway, he’s going to Harvard. Probably paying in gold rocks or chair legs or something.”

“That would be a useful power.”

“I wouldn’t mind having it,” Bobby agreed, flipping over to float on his back. “Except, that ‘Midas Touch’ song would get annoying. John used to call him Goldmember.”

“Oh, God,” I laughed, remembering how literally Jubilee had taken that remark.

“I don’t know,” Bobby said. “I think I’d rather stay here. It’s home. And we do have our own rooms now.”

“True.”

“Then there’s the X-Men to consider. We’re probably going to have to get serious about that pretty soon. Stop skipping meetings.”

I sighed good-humouredly. “I suppose so.”

Grinning, Bobby sank down in the water so that only his eyes were showing. They were mischievous as came toward me slowly. My gut tightened.

“I think I’m going to lay out now,” I said, pretending not to catch what he was doing. He didn’t like it when I stopped him from kissing me, but he was a good sport about it. I was tired of hurting him. My mind was fairly brimming with the emotions he felt when we kissed – desire, disappointment, and pain. There was so much Bobby in me that I could barely feel Logan anymore.

“Hey, we left the towels inside,” Bobby noted, climbing the ladder behind me.

“That’s all right. I’m going to air dry,” I replied, settling myself on one of the pool chairs. When I closed my eyes, I could feel him hovering over me.

“I’ll go get them,” he offered after a minute of staring at me.

“Okay,” I murmured, already getting drowsy.

“Right back,” he said, and leaned over to kiss me quickly before he left.

That was nice, I thought, smiling to myself. Short, sweet, and no one got hurt.

The towels must have been hard to find because Bobby was gone a fairly long time. Long enough for me to fall asleep and some of the younger boys to get up enough courage to bother me.

It was Flea who initiated the dare. He was always underfoot, doing his best to make everyone’s life miserable. The point of their game, I gathered later, was to be the one to touch me the longest without a: dying or b: getting caught. The three boys with Flea were his usual partners in crime, Streak and Artie, and along with them was a boy named Rett. I don’t know what they said to Rett to convince him to go first. I just remember waking up knowing someone was about to touch my face.

Instinctively – I think I thought I was wearing gloves – I reached out and grabbed Rett’s wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, sitting up.

My grip was firm. By the time I noticed the dark blue, telltale veins discoloring the smooth brown of his skin it was too late. My control was lost in the flow of power into me. It was an agonizing rush, as always. I wanted to let go but couldn’t. His emotions overwhelmed mine. He was sorry. He hadn’t wanted to hassle me. He was new and he wanted to make a good impression, have some friends for once. His name was Everett Thomas. He was only thirteen years old, and he was scared.

Abruptly, the flow of power turned. I hit the concrete hard as I fell from the chair to my knees. I let go of his hand, but his stayed clamped on my wrist. My flesh burned under his fingers. This is what it felt like, I realized. Rett was using my power against me and this was what it felt like. I was going to die. He wouldn’t be able let go and I didn’t have the strength to fight it –

I was jerked from behind, my wrist torn from Rett’s grip. I could feel Bobby’s arms around my bare waist. His skin was soft and slightly cool.

“Let go,” I wheezed, limp in his grasp.

“You’re not hurting me.” Bobby was exhilarated by that fact. His breath was erratic against my ear. He hugged me to him more tightly.

My much-abused skin reacted slowly. I didn’t have the energy to even pretend to resist the absorption of Bobby’s strength. My body was using him to replace what Rett had taken and more.

Eventually, Bobby crumbled to the ground, twitching. I had taken too much. I was too powerful, too cold. To release the pressure, I froze the ground and the pool water. I staggered away from Bobby and Rett, away from the other boys’ shocked, accusing stares.

It’s not my fault, I thought wildly.

I lost my footing on the icy edge of the pool and careened backward. The ice broke under my weight, the back of my head getting the full impact. It hurt at first, but the arctic water numbed the pain for me. I drifted toward the bottom almost serenely. Two figures made a picturesque silhouette where they knelt at the edge of the pool. It didn’t bother me at all that the water was turning pinkish or that I was drowning. It was the most natural thing in the world to be still and wait for the third boy to come back with Logan to save me.

How would he save me? I wondered. Knowing him, he’d just jump in and grab me, not caring that he’d then end up worse off than Bobby and Rett. That’s why the other two boys weren’t jumping in to try and help. They were scared to touch me. Logan wouldn’t be scared, like Bobby wasn’t scared, and he’d get hurt. Possibly drown right along with me. The only way he could get me out of the water safely is if I was dead.

My eyes closed at the thought. That sounded like an okay plan to me. I could sleep. No more hurting, no more annoying gloves, no more pity. Just absolute tranquility…

I’d been here before, I realized. Standing on the platform at the train station at night, ticket to nowhere in hand. It would’ve been so easy, I’d thought, to step in front of the train. It’d be so quick and painless. Painless for me, anyway. My parents would be shocked to see pieces of their little girl on the six o’clock news. They’d feel bad for giving up on me so quick. David would feel bad for telling everyone that it was me who’d almost killed him. All I had to do was step out at the exact right second and everything would be okay…

Fear welled up inside of me. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die, so I was going to have to save myself.

Lungs burning, senses dulled, I pushed up from the bottom of the pool, reaching for the melting hole I’d made in the ice. I bobbed out like an otter, gasping in that first lungful of air every bit like my life depended on it. I started sinking again. My legs and arms were dead weight. It hurt to move them, it hurt to push the ice away, but I managed to make it to the edge.

I had to drag myself out. My forearms slipped on the melting ice and scraped across the raised concrete. It took a few tries, and I earned myself a lot of bruises before I finally made it up. I coughed awhile to get the water out of my lungs, then fell over on my side. I could feel the blood flow freely from the cut on the back of my head.

I fought oblivion for as long as I could.

~ Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment ~

Rubbing my eyes to correct my blurred vision, I sat up on the uncomfortable, thinly cushioned metal bed in the infirmary ward of the lab. The lights were dim and giving off a loud buzzing noise. There was no one else but me around, not even Dr. McCoy. The digital clock on the wall read five-fifteen. The med lab was eerily quiet. It had to have been the morning. I didn’t think I could’ve been out for more than fourteen hours because, aside from a bit of wooziness, I felt fine.

I slid my legs over the side of the bed. The sterile floor was cold under my bare feet. To keep from shivering, I closed the long, thick wool robe that I found had been placed over my bathing suit. If Rett and Bobby weren’t here that meant they were okay, I deduced, and that was good news if I’d ever heard it. But where was Bobby? Where was Logan? I had been kicked out of the med lab the few times I’d had cause to visit him, but surely he could get them to let him stay. If he wanted.

I caught sight of a pair of long, black gloves, which were laid out on the table next to me. That was a message, loud and clear. My guilty conscience curdled in my stomach. I’d practically killed two people in one fell swoop, all in the name of getting a tan. And one of them had been just a kid. The only reason Rett had walked away was because he’d taken my power with him. I wished he’d just taken it altogether. I welcomed him to it. It was a useless mutation, anyway. Nothing good could ever come of it.

“Stupid goddamned gloves,” I gritted through my teeth, pulling them on without finesse. My middle and index fingers were jammed together. I felt like growling.

Logan had touched me, I realized. Though the impatience was mine, I recognized the extreme reactions as his. When had he touched me? I must have been when I was unconscious. Maybe he’d put the robe on me. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. There was an impression of him there, stronger than it had been before. Alarm, sorrow, guilt, anger…It was nice to have him back in the forefront of my mind, but I hardly ever got any good emotions from people. It was overwhelming at first, but all I usually remembered was just what they were feeling when they touched me, a little of what they were thinking, and sometimes vague snapshots of memories.

Logan had been mad at me for being reckless, that much was clear. His anger was tempered by concern for my well-being. I allowed myself a moment to bask in the peculiar consolation his specter-like presence gave to me. Literally feeling the emotions of another human being is probably one of the most intimate contacts two people can have, yet it’s not as fulfilling as you would think. There’s power in the physical. Knowing he cared was one thing; having him there when I woke up was quite another. It was childish, but I needed a hug.

Subdued, I left the med lab and went out into the steel-encased hallway. I quickly got inside the elevator, impatient to escape from the cold, impersonal walls. Upstairs was warmth and wood and, as Bobby had said, home.

Tying the robe around me securely, I stepped out of the too-bright elevator and went in search of the only person whom I knew would be awake. I found him on the couch in the living room, listlessly watching a documentary on lemurs.

He must have felt me standing hesitantly in the doorframe because he commented, “Their mating call sounds like they’re saying, ‘She-fuck, she fuck!’”

“Jones,” I choked out. I’d never heard him swear before.

“I’m not as innocent as everybody thinks,” he informed me, switching stations with a blink of his eyes.

“If you say so,” I replied, taking a seat on the far end of the couch.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked in his calm, level tone.

I shrugged, not surprised he’d heard about what had happened. Jones always knew the gossip. It was partially because he never slept and partially because he was so quiet that people tended to forget he was around. “What’s the damage?” I asked him.

“Flea’s mad that he’s getting in trouble, so he’s telling everyone that you went crazy and tried to kill Bobby and Rett. But only the really stupid people believe him. So most of the school thinks you’re psycho.”

I snorted. Jones sure knew the appropriate way to deliver bad news.

“I overheard Bobby talking to Hellion – that’s what they’re calling Julian Keller now, you know, since he rearranged Cyclops’s classroom on the ceiling a couple days ago. Anyway, Bobby’s really worried. He heard Professor Xavier say he wanted to talk to you first thing when you woke up. Have you talked to him yet? He gets up pretty early.”

I shook my head. “You think he’s mad?”

Professor Xavier, he with his telepathic abilities, chose that moment to wheel into the doorway. The touch of a smile that was on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not mad. Just disappointed. Nothing for you to runaway over. Come along, Rogue,” he said, backing out. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”

Jones and I exchanged nervous looks. “Good luck,” he mouthed.

Stomach curdling again, I followed Professor Xavier to his office. He had me close the door behind us and take a seat opposite his desk. I arranged the robe to cover me completely, wishing I’d taken the time to change. I kept my eyes on the wooden floorboards, hoping he could see from my thoughts that I really was sorry.

He sighed. I heard the creak of his chair as he leaned back. “Yes, I know you’re sorry. I’m not going to punish you for yesterday’s…incident. However, I am still very disappointed in you. I would’ve expected you to have exercised more caution. You’re an intelligent young woman, Rogue. You shouldn’t have been so careless.”

I hunched forward in my seat, willing myself not to cry. I’d been disappointing people my whole life. My parents, Bobby. Myself.

Professor Xavier heaved another sigh. “Perhaps it’s my fault.”

I winced. For admitting me in the school, for trusting me to have good judgment, for letting someone as immature as me into the X-Men – there were so many ways he could go with that one.

“For expecting too much of you,” he amended softly. “It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment or that I think you’re immature. You’ve done remarkably well considering your particular mutation. I suppose it’s unfair to begrudge you for wanting a day of normalcy, especially since I can see that you harbor so little hope. You’ve been at my school for months now, and I’ve offered you none. For that, I am sorry.”

“But I…” I cut in, confused. “Storm – Ms. Munroe – She said that it didn’t work like that, that you couldn’t cure me.”

Turning toward the window, he replied, “No, not cure. The idea that mutation is a disease to be gotten rid of is an idea that we must fight if we are ever going to be able to take our place as equal citizens of this world. Society isolates people with diseases, especially ones believed to be contagious.”

“Like AIDS victims in China,” I said, remembering the parallel brought up in current history last week.

“Yes. And even here in the United States, though it isn’t as blatant.” He turned his head back around, addressing me gravely. “I cannot cure you, Rogue, but what I can do to teach you to use your gift. In time, you might be able to control how much energy you take in and be able to let go at will.”

“You mean stop it completely? So I could touch people?”

Professor Xavier hesitated. “Aside from general and pressing health concerns, like regulating medication, I do not typically allow research to be done on my students. I feel that it is neither necessary nor beneficial to them to be made to feel like laboratory mice. However, Dr. McCoy convinced me to make an exception in your case. I hope you can forgive me.”

I nodded eagerly. Stick me in a maze and call me Squeakers; I’d have done anything to be free.

Again, he hesitated before continuing. “Whilst you were unconscious, I had Dr. McCoy take a generous skin sample from you. It was quite remarkable, what he found. You have two sets of pores. The standard type, of course, and a much smaller, much more numerous set directly on your epidermis. It is through those pores that you extract the life essence of the people you touch.”

“Is it possible to close them?”

“I’m afraid they’re always open and likely always will be. Your control will come, in time, with your ability to draw power in slower increments.”

“There has to be something that can close those pores,” I argued a little desperately. “A…I don’t know, maybe a lotion. I know it probably couldn’t be permanent, but it’d be something. Like Mr. Summers’ glasses. They’ve got be annoying to wear, but at least he can see people with them. I wouldn’t mind having to put on lotion all the time. I do it twice a day anyway.”

“Rogue, I understand what you want, and I want very badly to give it to you, but there is no magic lotion. The ruby quartz of Scott’s glasses was an once-in-a-lifetime find, which was, I have to admit, mostly pure luck. That isn’t to say that Dr. McCoy won’t continue to work with your skin samples – he is very interested in your gift – but he does have other matters to see to as well. As for learning control, it will be incorporated into your X-Man training, if you see fit for it to continue. It isn’t my intention to rob you of your youth. If you’d prefer to wait a few more years before dedicating yourself to the team completely, I’d be glad to store your uniform for you in the interim.”

But what else did I have now besides the X-Men?

“Training tomorrow same time as usual?” I asked, since today was Sunday.

Professor Xavier smiled a little, and it did reach is eyes. “Come here after your regular training with Logan in the Danger Room, and we’ll discuss your experiences with your power.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed, standing.

“Oh, and Rogue?” he said just as I opened the door. “Don’t let me catch you wearing that bathing suit again. Despite what some of your classmates seem to think, we do have a dress code here.”

I flushed. “Right, Professor. I’ll go change.”

“Not too much,” he said softly, picking up my earlier train of thought, which led him to yesterday’s incident. “You are an asset to this school and to the X-Men. Don’t ever think otherwise.” There was worry in his expression. He probably thought I was suicidal. I wasn’t really. Sometimes it was just easier to wallow. “I have faith in you, Rogue. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

I couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. How was I an asset? I hadn’t done anything. Well, I did stop John and pilot the Blackbird – God that was a horrible experience – but I hadn’t done anything otherwise. Bobby could have done either of those things had I not been there. Bobby could do a lot of things if I wasn’t there, come to that.

That thought ate away at me as I made my way down the silent corridors to my new room, infinitely grateful that it was mine and I didn’t have to share it with four roommates. I collapsed backwards on the bed and stared up at the ceiling morosely. I had learned my lesson about wallowing, so I decided to brood – which is, as everyone knows, exactly the same thing, only brooding is for adults. Logan did it all the time.

So, the Professor wanted to help me control my powers so that I could be a more effective weapon. Well, if that didn’t murder any hope for normalcy left in me, I didn’t know what would. It was going to take time, he’d said, and I wasn’t going to get the one thing I wanted out of it. Moreover, I didn’t even think it would really work. All of us students had to take classes on controlling our powers. While Jubilee had been juggling sparklers and Bobby had been crafting elaborate ice sculptures, I’d been given a bunch of tapes that were supposedly to get me centered. They didn’t help by any means, though at least I’d looked like I was participating instead of being left out.

People at the school sometimes went out of their way to make me feel included, even though it would’ve been easier just to ignore me. Professor Xavier was doing more of the same. Not that I wasn’t grateful, on at least some level. One that was squished flat between exasperation and despair.

I decided then that, while I would go along with whatever Professor Xavier wanted me to do because I owed him, I would do it without emotion or hope. I just wanted my powers to be left alone. I didn’t want the responsibility of living up to anyone’s expectations anymore. I was untouchable girl. It was time I started acting like it.

~ Should I Stay or Should I Go ~

I lay there on my bed for some time, mulling over the same thoughts in slightly different orders. I found that I didn’t like a lot of the motives behind what I did and who I was. There was an overwhelming need in me to figure myself out, starting with who I wanted to be. I asked myself that question, and an image of an unfazeable vixen with a smart-ass retort for everything came to mind. I pushed the image aside as too shallow and entirely too much like Mystique for comfort. I needed something deeper. Modesty and an unwillingness to look kept me from turning inward to find out if I already had things inside me that I liked. Instead, I looked to the people I admired to come up with traits I thought I was lacking.

I’d already been thinking about Bobby, so I started with him. His loyalty suggested itself instantly, loyalty both to me and his family. Twice a month he wrote them unreturned letters of forgiveness spoken through recounts of how much he was learning at the school and his continuing hope for a more peaceable reunion in the future. I’d yet to contact my own parents, or even to consider forgiving them. It wasn’t because I hated them as much as it was because I didn’t think of them. A clean wound heals quickest and hurts shortest and all that. What else in Bobby did I like? He was compassionate, Iceman nothing. Mostly I found that I was drawn to his balance. I felt sure that he’d never even partially consider considering suicide, no matter what happened. He knew who he was, what he stood for, and left the rest to sort out itself. I decided I loved him then, and realized at the same moment that I was going to have to breakup with him.

So, I had loyalty, compassion, and balance thus far. I remembered Dr. Grey and added selflessness and bravery. The other X-Men came to mind. Cyclops, I acknowledged, was just like Bobby only more so. I supposed I should tack responsible on both of them. Storm had grace and eloquence and, for someone who was practically a goddess, she was incredibly humble. Self-assured without being cocky.

Cocky naturally brought me to Logan. That arrogance, his tendency to waver, his cynicism, his slightly twisted sense of honor, his gruffness, his emotional deficiency – I didn’t aspire to any of it, yet I loved it all because I was in love with him. My love didn’t generate from idolization, nor did I love him just because he was the most dead-sexy man who ever walked the earth, counting young Paul Newman. It was because of the way I felt around him. There was an easy companionship between us, an understanding that came from being two imperfect people dropped into a world full of perfect heroes. I loved Logan the most of anybody I knew, unquestionably. It wasn’t just as friends either, though I’d tried to make it so for Bobby’s sake.

Not that I was breaking up with Bobby because I thought I could be with Logan. Far from it, actually. Even if I were a normal girl, I still wouldn’t have harbored any anticipation of romance between us. But that particular reality didn’t make a difference since fantasy was the only thing I could ever expect of anyone. In that regard, I’d always been cheating on Bobby. I’d enjoyed kissing him and making him want me – he was very cute guy, after all – but I’d have left him for Logan in a heartbeat if the unlikely opportunity had ever presented itself. Bobby deserved far better than me, that was for sure.

Idly, I tried to run my fingers through my hair but the tangles prevented it. I flipped the ends up to my nose and smelt chlorine. Making a face, I hauled myself out of bed and into the attached bathroom. My own bathroom. Ah, the luxuries I had taken for granted in my youth. Not all of Xavier’s college-age students got their own bedrooms and baths, just Bobby and me. Yet another perk of being X-Men.

Flicking on the light switch, I stepped up to the sink and stared at myself wide-eyed in the mirror. Good God, I’d walked around the school looking like this? My hair was practically in dreadlocks and I looked even paler than I did before I’d attempted to lay out yesterday. Cruel, cruel irony.

My energy was revitalized after I brushed my teeth thoroughly and took a long, hot shower. Now that I was clean, I felt much better prepared to face my judgmental classmates at breakfast. I was determined not to look the part of would-be psycho murderess. I dried my hair and decided to curl it instead of straightening it. I figured loose Shirley Temple ringlets were about as threatening as a blind puppy.

Out of habit, I took my daily pill. It was redundant for me to be on birth control, admittedly, but most of the girls at the school were on it regardless of sexual activity. Because there was no way to know how each mutant would react to any given drug, the school regulated all the medication we took, from insulin for diabetics to the occasional aspirin. Birth control was offered on a wide basis to avoid complications and embarrassment. The drawback, of course, was that we had to listen to umpteen speeches on STDs and teen pregnancy. The extra drawback for me were the snickers I’d gotten from the other girls the first time the idea was introduced. Rogue needing birth control? Whatever for?

In response to that, Jubilee had elbowed me in the ribs jovially, saying, “It’s in case of immaculate conception, right Rogue?”

“Actually,” Kitty had broken in, “The idea of immaculate conception has nothing to do with the virgin birth. It’s an entirely different doctrine based on the idea that Mary herself was born exempt from original sin.” Kitty had smiled at our surprised looks. “You can be Jewish and still attend a Catholic grade school,” she’d explained simply.

It was a damned good thing that not very many people knew my real name or I probably would’ve spent the rest of my high school experience being called the Virgin Marie. That was one thing to be thankful for.

I applied just a little bit of makeup and then went to my closet to find an outfit that was just as muted. This turned out to be a much more difficult task than I had anticipated. I had an abundance of cute clothes and the winter-fall stuff wasn’t too bad, but my summer wardrobe was scarily devoid of class. That fact was not totally my fault as my last few shopping excursions had been under the influence of Jubilee and Kitty. With their help, my predominantly black wardrobe had been supplemented with pastels and lots and lots of yellow. Bright yellow. How had I allowed this to happen?

It was clear that I needed a new look. I had outgrown my quasi-Goth, quasi-hooker stage, I couldn’t pull off preppy with my unusual hair color, and there was only so much yellow one school could take. A trip to the mall was the only reasonable course of action for me, even though I’d already spent my generous monthly allowance. Where Professor Xavier got all his money, I could only guess. Perhaps his extra-secret power was the ability to turn blades of grass into one hundred dollar bills.

Thankfully, I found that a lot of my new clothes still had their tags on them because I hadn’t been daring enough to take my look to that new level of skimpy while school had actually been in session. Resolving to return them, I separated the tagged items out and tossed them on my bed. Still not satisfied, I added some more stuff that I thought I could sell at one of those second-hand boutiques. Remorselessly, I tossed my former favorite shirt – a long sleeved, gauzy number that left nothing to the imagination – on the top of the pile, and surveyed it with satisfaction. As soon as I made some stops, I would have enough money for my purposes and more.

I took off my robe and got dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a red Clash t-shirt that had a normal neckline and showed only a little bit of skin between the sleeves and the top of my gloves, which I exchanged for white ones to match the lettering. Simple, neat, and safe without turning me into a formless old biddy. Perfect. I pulled out a pair of tennis shoes and was tying them when I heard a knock on my door. I knew it was Bobby the way I would have known if it had been Logan, or David or Magneto for that matter. I just did.

“Come in,” I called, trying not to sound nervous and failing.

The door opened and Bobby came in with a forced cheerful smile on his face. The smile disappeared when he registered the clothes on my bed. “You’re not leaving,” he stated, his voice angry and surprised.

I shook my head in agreement. “I’m just doing some prioritizing.”

Jamming his hands into the deep pockets of his jeans, he replied, “Good.”

There was an awkward silence between us. I knew why I was anxious, his reasons weren’t so obvious.

“So, I was headed down to the med lab to see you, but I ran into the Professor at the elevator and told me you were here.”

“Yeah, I woke up a few hours ago.” It was now after eight-thirty.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” I said quickly. “I’m fine. How’re you? Did I…Are you okay?”

“Yeah. A little bit of a headache – not even a headache. Just a little, uh, pressure. You know.”

“Did you talk to Rett? Is he okay?”

“He wasn’t out for very long, maybe fifteen minutes”

“No unwelcome side-effects or anything?”

Bobby shrugged. “He was playing basketball after dinner last night, so I’d say he was just fine.”

The formality wearing me out, I collapsed on the edge of the bed. “Bobby, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no,” he said, quickly coming to sit next to me. “I’m not mad at you. The Professor told me you’d want your space, is all. It’s okay.”

I leaned on his shoulder and let him stroke my hair, needing to be comforted. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but I was too afraid he’d say he loved me back. Breaking up with him was already going to be hard enough without having to convince him that he didn’t really love me like that.

The selfish part of me wanted to forget my resolution and let him keep being my boyfriend. By playing the “poor Rogue” card, I could’ve easily bound him to me permanently. Had I wrenched out a few tears and told him that I loved him, that would’ve been it. Bobby and Rogue forever.

“Let’s get some breakfast before the cafeteria closes,” I suggested, standing.

“All right,” he agreed, and took my gloved hand in his.

“You’re too good for me, Bobby.”

He winked and kissed the satin over my knuckles. “Nah. I’m perfect for you.”

I almost protested, but we were already out into the hallway and I wasn’t about to break up with him in public. It was going to be bad enough for his reputation anyway.

I knew reputations and superficial preoccupations like that shouldn’t matter, but I was still concerned. Maybe I’d tell everyone he broke up with me. No, I couldn’t do that because then all the girls would think he was a jerk and wouldn’t go out with him. And, since drama was the preference, no one was going to believe it was mutual. This was already complicated and I hadn’t even done it yet.

The cafeteria was really a huge dining room set up with five long, elegant tables. It was never a problem that there were more students than chairs because everyone ate whenever they pleased during the designated time periods. Bobby and I went down at the last-minute breakfast rush, the most crowded time of day, even with over a third of the student body home for break. That proportion was much less than it would’ve been at a normal prep school since a lot of our kids were orphans, runaways, or family outcasts.

Coming from backgrounds such as those, it would’ve made sense for them to be a little more understanding. Unfortunately, junior high-aged kids made up the highest percentile of the student body. They found my existence intriguing in that two-headed-fetus-in-a-jar kind of way and never lost an opportunity to talk about me in undertones, whether the subject be speculation over my mutation or the Statue of Liberty incident, which had become the stuff of legend. According to Jones, every now and again when the rumor mill was churning too slowly someone would bring up the night Logan had accidentally stabbed me and I’d revealed my mutation to my peers for the first time. That part was considered only mildly interesting compared to the biggest mystery of them all – why I’d been alone with Logan in his room that late at night in the first place. Ooh, scandal.

Junior high kids. God forgive me for having ever been one of them.

“You wanna grab something and take it outside? It looks pretty nice out,” Bobby proposed as we got into line. The three girls in front of us were giving each other significant looks and listening in to our conversation without discretion. Bobby was as aware of that fact as I was.

“Sure,” I responded, selecting an apple and then a bagel, adding to it a generous dollop of cream cheese.

It was rather disconcerting to be stared at by so many people, whether blatantly or not, so Bobby and I made it through the line as quickly and as nonchalantly possible and took our trays outside to what was really the garden, but we called it the park because it was so massive. We managed to snag the picnic table under the big tree, where we could have relative privacy. At Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, privacy in personal matters was always relative.

Bobby peeled the plastic lid off of his cereal and ate it dry, with a spoon. That never ceased to amaze me. “Jubes and Kitty wanted me to say hi to for them,” he told me, scooping up another spoonful of Cheerios. They weren’t even Apple Cinnamon or Honey Nut, they were just the plain ones. What was the point?

“I thought they weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“They called me this morning. Freaking six o’clock in the morning to tell me that they were up and about ready to go shopping with Kitty’s mom. Am I a woman? Honestly. Why would they think I cared? They should’ve called you.”

“I wasn’t stupid enough to give them my extension number.”

“Smart girl.”

“Very true. What’d they say?”

Bobby shrugged. “Chicago is great, they’re having a great time, the usual stuff. I guess they saw somebody or other famous.”

“In Chicago? I had no idea famous people hung out in Chicago. Who was it?”

“Baseball player for the Cubs, I think. I didn’t catch the name. In case you forgot, it was six a.m. Six a.m. Oh, and then, after Kitty repeated everything Jubilee told her to tell me, Jubes would not let her hang up, even thought she didn’t have anything else to say. So it was just dead silence until Jubilee finally grabbed the phone from her and told me to go back to sleep. Girls are strange. Excluding you.”

I feigned bafflement, but in reality I knew exactly what had occurred. It had been obvious to me from day one that Kitty had had a crush on Bobby for the longest time but hadn’t done anything about it, despite Jubilee’s insistent prodding. When Bobby and I’d started dating, Kitty backed off, probably more relieved that anything else because Jubilee stopped nagging, for a while at least.

Jubilee, though always friendly toward me, still designated Bobby as Kitty’s. She thought that Kitty should have him even if it meant getting him to cheat on me. And if that hurt me, well, that was an unfortunate side effect, and one I deserved for stepping in on Jubilation Lee’s best friend’s territory. When I’d first figured that out, I’d been mistrustful of Jubilee, but then I’d realized that she was probably one of the most honest people I’d ever met. She was even more honest than Bobby, because she was as true to her weaknesses as she was to her strengths.

Before, I’d considered the Kitty situation a little trying, though I’d felt sorry for her. Now that I was breaking up with Bobby, I decided that she was perfect for him because they were really in love with each other and I was the only thing holding them back. Now, did I really and truly believe that? Maybe.

“Do you like Kitty?” I asked, twirling the stem of my apple.

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really know her all that well and you sounded kind of annoyed that she didn’t have anything to say to for herself.”

“Well, that’s not her fault. Jubes was putting her on the spot. When Kitty wants to talk she has a lot to say, and usually she’s funny. Not uproariously funny or anything. It’s kind of subtle. It’s nice.”

I smiled to myself as I cut the apple with my plastic butter knife. “I never thought she was all that shy. She talked to me the first class we had together. She asked me to sit with her and Jubes and everything.”

“That’s Kitty for you. She’d rather be uncomfortable herself than let someone else be uncomfortable.”

“Sounds like you two know each other really well,” I grinned, thinking that this was going to be easier than I had thought. There weren’t going to be any hard feelings after this breakup.

“Oh, yeah. We came to the school at the same time. She’s kind of like my sister.”

Damn.

“But – but don’t you think she’s pretty?”

“I guess so,” he replied, confused.

“What is this obsession with putting sibling labels on friends of the opposite sex? It just makes everything more difficult. You are not Kitty’s brother, not even by a chromosome. And, mentally speaking, I’m one hundred percent positive that she does not think of you like a brother. Nor should you think of her like a sister. She’s not.”

Bobby stabbed at his cereal with his spoon. “Like Logan’s not your big brother or uncle or whatever.”

I almost said, “Exactly,” but I caught myself. “We’re not talking about Logan.”

“But it’s true. You don’t think of him like that.”

“Bobby,” I said softly, “This is about you and me. This has nothing to do with him.”

“Everything you do has something to do with him.”

“Not this.”

“Oh, no. This is about you trying to pawn me off on Kitty. I like Kitty, Rogue, I do. But I’m with you and you’re not going to scare me away. We’ve been through too much together.”

“I don’t want to scare you away. I don’t want you to go anywhere. Stay right here. Just…take away the label. I can’t be anyone’s girlfriend, Bobby. The only difference between girlfriend and friend is physical, and I can’t give that to you. Not now, not ever.”

“You’re giving up? You can’t give up. Yesterday was a fluke. It got out of hand. It won’t happen again.”

“I gave up a long time ago. And yesterday wasn’t a fluke. It was my fault. I’m not normal.”

“Who’s normal? This is Mutant High. We’re all not normal. It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault. It was those stupid kids’s faults.”

“No. It’s my mutation and my responsibility. You can’t be my boyfriend anymore. I love you and you’re one of the only friends I have, so I don’t want to loose you. All that’ll be different is that you can’t kiss me anymore. I’m sure you won’t miss the migraines.”

“They’re not that bad,” he said forlornly. Then, “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I forced a small smile. “But if my condition changes, you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

He smiled a little too. “No I won’t. Logan will be first.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Come on, Rogue. You slept with the man’s dog tags around your wrist every night for a month.”

I looked at him incredulously, wondering how he’d come by that information. I’d hid them carefully from my roommates. I was sure that if they’d found out they would’ve said something.

“You gave them back to him with me in the car, remember? It wasn’t too hard to figure out why you happened to have them on you in the middle of the night.”

My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you put up with me. You are too good for me. I was serious about that. You deserve better.”

“Apparently, I deserve a lot worse if you won’t have me.”

When reason doesn’t work, go for anger. I shoved myself out from the picnic table. “Shut up. Just because I’m too stupid to fall in love with you doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of me or whatever else you think. I’m a mess. You have no idea what it’s like inside my head. So why don’t you just start thinking of me as your sister and give poor Kitty a break. You’d both be a lot happier. You don’t need me, Bobby. I need you. Why can’t you understand that?” I shook my head. “You know what? Whatever. I’ll talk to you later.” With that, I stomped off, enjoying my righteous indignation. It was warm.

~ Outsider ~

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the grounds, people watching. I’d done a lot of people watching in the off-and-on eight months I’d been on the road alone. Out of necessity, I’d become a good judge of character. Within ten minutes of walking into a bar I could usually tell which drivers were safe to ask for rides and which ones I needed to steer clear of altogether. Of course, my judgment wasn’t flawless. I’d been proven wrong more than once.

After a while, I grew tired, so I found a comfortable niche for myself near the busiest section of the park. If anyone saw me through the leaves I’m sure I must’ve looked strange sitting in that tree, which I had long ago dubbed my thinking tree. It gave them something else to discuss about me at least.

From my perch, I had a perfect view of the basketball court where the boys from yesterday were setting up a game of two-on-two. I was close enough to hear their conversation.

“All right,” Flea said, “Me and Streak versus Artie and Rett. Powers allowed.”

Artie shook his head in response to that.

“Aw, don’t be such a pussy. We can use powers.”

Artie relented with a shrug, taking the basketball from Flea and checking it to him. Mockingly, Artie stuck out his blue, forked tongue.

“Keep it in your mouth, Maddicks. No one wants to see that,” Flea responded, bouncing the ball back.

Dribbling slowly in place, Artie kept his focus on Flea. Artie’s face was in profile, but there was no missing the orange-yellow glow that his eyes were emitting. About to lunge for the steal, Flea stopped dead in his tracks. Artie made a break for the hoop, easily weaving around his unusually still opponent. Since Streak and Rett were busy gawking, the lane was wide open for Artie to sink an easy lay-up. Artie pumped on fist in the air to congratulate himself. He brought his arm down suddenly, pain scrunching up his face. When he opened his eyes again, the glow was gone.

Soon after, Flea was able to shake off his temporary paralysis. He pressed his palm to his forehead and rubbed it hard. “Ow, man. I forgot you could do that. No more. Damn.”

Artie, who had been massaging his own forehead, nodded in agreement.

“Do we still get the points?” Rett asked, speaking up for the first time.

Two fingers was Artie’s voice of concurrence.

“Yeah, all right, you can have the points. But you only got them ’cause Streak’s worthless.”

“Hey, screw you. I forgot, too.” Glaring, Streak grabbed the ball from Artie and went to the top of the key to take it out, Rett guarding him.

“Whatever, dude. Let’s just win this.” Flea backpedaled toward the basket, Artie right with him.

Streak forcefully passed the ball to an empty spot behind Rett. Streak used his power – I didn’t know what it was, super speed or teleportation – and ended up at the exact angle to stop his own pass. Flea broke away from Artie, and Streak threw him the ball. Flea jumped, did a back flip, and dunked the ball in the hoop. Upon landing, he bounced into a one-armed handstand, then from it to a front flip. I’d seen gymnastic moves before, but that was just not natural. No normal human could’ve done it. Despite my annoyance at Flea, I found myself impressed.

Artie gave a fake yawn.

“I believe this is yours,” Flea said cordially, picking up the ball and handing it off to Artie.

Dribbling up a little ways, Artie put his arms to set up for an overhead pass. Flea knocked the ball out of his hands. Streak was there in a heartbeat. But before he could get a handle on the ball, Rett appeared beside him. He pushed Streak out of the way with his shoulder and got the ball. He dribbled it to the basket with no opposition, as the other three boys had taken up gawking again. Rett banked an easy shot and did two back flips in celebration.

“Dude,” Flea said finally. “How many powers do you have?”

That’s what I wanted to know. I made a mental note to ask the Professor.

Below me, someone sneezed loudly.

“Bless you,” I said automatically, looking down through the branches at the girl who’d sat down at the foot of the tree without me noticing. She was probably around Rett’s age and probably just as new.

“Thank you,” she replied. Then went back to writing in the open notebook on her lap, not paying me anymore heed. Fine with me. I didn’t really feel like talking to anyone.

I turned my attention back to the boys in time to see Storm reach them. “You have detentions to serve,” she informed the boys, arms crossed over her chest.

“I did not do it,” Flea proclaimed. “It was all Rett.”

Rett seemed hurt by Flea’s casual disloyalty. I could almost remember – something about the school before and an art project. They’d said he’d copied, but it hadn’t been intentional…The stolen memory was gone before I could really see it. I allowed it to slip out of my awareness without protest. Some things just weren’t any of my business.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Travis. I know you put him up to it. You’re lucky you’re all getting the same punishment instead of yours being worse. Let’s go. Dan, pick up the basketball and put it away. Thank you.” Storm turned around and led the boys inside. I couldn’t help smirking at Flea’s scowl. Served him right.

The girl tilted her head back. “Why are you so happy he’s getting in trouble?”

“Pardon?”

“That boy. He’s really mad and you’re happy about it. How come?”

“Uh. Well. The reason he’s getting into trouble is because he was being a jerk to me, so, you know.”

“Oh. Okay. I was just wondering.”

I wasn’t finished with the conversation. “You couldn’t see me from down there. How’d you know I was happy about it?”

She shrugged. “I can always tell what other people are feeling.”

“You’re new, right?”

“Yes. I was supposed to start next semester, but my mom is on her honeymoon, so she and my stepdad sent me here early instead of leaving me with a nanny,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“I see. What’s your name?”

“Nicole Reis-Steeves.”

“I’m Rogue.”

“Is it okay if I sit down here? I know you want to be alone. I won’t bother you.”

Leaning back, I replied, “Be my guest. It’s not my tree,” even though I thought of it as mine.

“Thank you.”

True to her word, Nicole didn’t say anything to me the whole time she and I were out there. I didn’t keep track of the time or my thoughts, really. Nor did I stir until my stomach growled to inform me it was dinnertime. Joints popping, I stood up on the branch and carefully made my way to the ground.

Stretching some more, I told Nicole, “I’m going to get some dinner. Wanna come?”

Nicole shook her head, saying, “I’m not hungry right now. But thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied somewhat formally. “See you around.”

“I hope you feel better,” she called after me.

Knowing a little about suffering other people’s emotions myself, I felt bad about having subjected her to my own. It was refreshing to meet someone in that junior high age range who was both incredibly polite and amazingly sympathetic. Had I been in her position, I probably would’ve thrown my shoe up at her and told her to get over herself.

Other people’s self-pity is always annoying. For her sake and my own, I resolved to be done with that and start over with optimism. I was giving myself way too much credit if I thought that every single kid at the school invested the amount energy it would take to actually hate me. Talk about me behind my back? Certainly. Hate me? Shun me? That was narcissistic masochism rearing its two ugly heads. It wasn’t realistic.

To test that theory, once I got my dinner I headed over to a table of a group of girls about my age. “Hi, Sierra,” I said to the blond one who’d been my lab partner a couple times in chemistry. “Is this seat taken?”

Sierra glanced at her friends quizzically, saying, “No, go ahead.”

Smiling my gratitude, I took the chair beside her. I ate quickly while they discussed how slutty Tara Fawver had become. I had only the vaguest clue who Tara Fawver was, but I made the appropriate faces and laughed at the appropriate times anyway. Eventually they found out that I hadn’t heard what had happened last week. They were delighted, as it meant that they could tell me themselves.

“Oh my God, it was so funny,” the one who’d told me she turned seventeen tomorrow gushed. “So, me, Sierra, and Tiff were just walking to the library ’cause I had a book that was, like, a month overdue, right? Anyway, we hear this noise – ”

“This moaning noise,” Sierra snickered.

“Yeah, hardcore moaning. So we stop, no idea where it was coming from. That exact moment, Cyclops turns his fine ass down that same hallway and hears that same noise. He asked us what it was but we were all like, ‘How should we know?’ Finally, he hits what we thought was just a wall and it slides open. There was Tara Fawver full-on going down on Jesus Christ.”

“On who?”

“Jesus. You know, JC, Jake Coolidge. The guy who can walk on water?”

“Oh, I get it. Isn’t that blasphemy?”

“Probably. Anyway. So, yeah. Cyclops was pissed. Pissed. You know how he’s been since Dr. Grey died and everything.”

“Mel, you forgot the best part,” Tiffany put in.

“Getting there.” Mel snickered and leaned across the table closer to me, “JC’s dick? Thirteen inches long. I kid you not.”

“No way,” I said.

“I’m serious. The thing was monstrous. Tara is such a size queen. It must’ve taken him two minutes, tops, to convince her to do him practically in the hallway. What a skank. They’re not even dating. Supposedly she still has a boyfriend back in Whoresville or wherever she’s from.”

The hypocrisy innate in the fact that I, the same girl who’d been feeling sorry for herself all day because her classmates were spreading rumors about her, was now bonding with said classmates over the vicious slander of another’s integrity was not lost on me. Taking my last bite of chicken, I wiped my mouth on my napkin and stood up before they could come up with another charming anecdote to share. Part of me was interested in Tara’s sexual escapades just for the shock value. I wasn’t too impressed with myself for that.

“Thanks for letting me sit here, but I gotta get going.”

“Oh, okay. See you later, Rogue.”

While not a total disaster, I was not looking forward to sharing my meals with them again. Beggars can’t be choosers, so I was glad Kitty and Jubilee were getting back tomorrow afternoon. When they resorted to gossip for conversation, at least they were shrewd about it.

But, hey, at least I’d proven that the world doesn’t in fact revolve around me. Good thing to figure out, if you actually want to realistically live it in.

~ Train in Vain ~

Since I usually hung out with Logan after dinner, I didn’t have to stop to think about where I was going; I just headed right to the teacher’s lounge. Logan wasn’t officially a professor, especially not of art. He was part security guard, part hall monitor. Mostly, he monopolized the Danger Room and watched TV. Exciting life. It was, however, infinitely better than that tiny camper he’d been living out of before he met me. I liked to take some credit for the fact that he was now living in a mansion. After all, it had been me Sabretooth was after in the first place. Logan had just been along for the ride.

Without regard to decorum, I pushed open the door to the lounge and walked right in. Students weren’t normally allowed in there, but I had made myself the exception to that rule the minute Logan had returned from Canada. Logan and Cyclops were the only ones inside. They were drinking contraband beer and playing pool. The room smelled like cigar smoke, but that was all Logan’s doing. From behind his red-tinted glasses, Cyclops fixed me with a stare that made me wish I’d knocked or something. I always got the feeling that there was something about me he didn’t quite approve of.

Logan glanced up from his shot and gave me a half-smile. “Hey, kid. Give me a minute to put ole One-Eye here out of his misery, and you and me can play.”

I shut the door behind me and came into the room, not bothering to take a seat since there was only one ball left on the table. Logan effortlessly banked the eight ball into the designated corner pocket. Straightening, he shot me a wink and then turned to Cyclops. “That’ll be fifty bucks. Sorry, bub.”

Smirking, Cyclops pulled his wallet out of his khakis. “It’s all right. I know you can’t afford it. Doesn’t bother me a bit.” He tossed the bills on the table. “Buy yourself something pretty.” He stalked off, acknowledging me with a curt nod at me as he went by.

“Ooh,” I said when was gone. “Who knew such an attitude could be found under that straight-laced façade?”

“How does your head feel?”

“Fine,” I replied, not expecting that question.

“You had a pretty nasty bump yesterday.”

I understood now. “Logan, thanks for helping me, but you need to quit doing that. I could hurt you.”

Logan paid no attention to my warning. “Where’ve you been all day?” he asked, putting out his cigar in the ashtray Professor Xavier had demanded he use or stop smoking altogether, probably figuring that if he couldn’t tame Logan he could at least see that he was housebroken.

“Around,” I replied, moving over to edge of the table. I tossed the empty glass beer bottle Cyclops had left behind in the trash and picked up the pool cue. “Do you wanna break?”

“Nah, you can do it,” Logan replied, setting up the balls at the other end. “So what were you doing around?” he inquired.

“Not much. Just thinking.”

“About yesterday?”

“Yeah, and about Bobby. I broke up with him.”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

Shrugging, I set up for the break. In spite of my half-realized intention to use Bobby to make Logan jealous, Logan had genuinely come to like Bobby, at least as much as he liked anyone. Tolerate was probably a better word. “It was time. We weren’t getting anywhere. It’s better for us just to be friends.” My break knocked in the five ball.

“Is it,” Logan challenged as I came around to his side for a follow-up shot.

“Yes, it is.”

“And I suppose you’re using your skin as an excuse.”

“Not an excuse, really. More like the whole reason.”

“You know, there are…creative ways to get around that little problem.”

“Creative ways,” I repeated sardonically. “Are there? Pray, do tell. It sounds like you’ve thought about it more than I have.”

“Rogue,” he said darkly, causing me to miss.

“You brought it up,” I replied defensively. I went over to lean against the wall. Logan was a master pool shark. When he got going, he didn’t stop. It was pretty much guaranteed now that I was going to lose this game.

“If you’ve thought about it, then you probably realize that it is possible.”

“You’re right. What am I thinking? Let me borrow that fifty bucks so I can go to an S&M shop and pick up a dominatrix outfit and a deluxe box of condoms right now. I don’t have my dignity or anything.”

He fixed me with an impatient look.

Meeting his gaze straight on, I admitted softly, “I don’t want to have to get around anything. I want it to be natural, like everybody else.”

His face softened. “I know you do, kid. I know it. But if you go through life taking all or nothing, you’re gonna miss out on a lot.”

“I don’t care. I’m not missing anything if I have to compromise what I really want in order to get something not as good.”

“Whatever you say, kid.”

There was a particular emphasis on the way he said kid. Normally, I was happy that he called me kid because it sounded to me a lot like a term of endearment. I even used to get jealous when he used it on other people. I didn’t like it so much that time. It was patronizing, what with all the growing up I’d done that day.

“It is whatever I say. It’s my life. Look, I’m pretty tired. Rain check?”

I couldn’t remember ever having willingly cut my time with Logan short, and neither could he if the expression on his face was any indication. I walked out on him. First time for everything.

The only problem was, I really wasn’t tired and now I had nothing to do but more wandering. Luckily, my attention was caught right away. Since school wasn’t in session, I’d expected the classrooms to be totally empty.

That’s why I was curious enough to investigate the unfamiliar music coming from one of them. The door was partially ajar, so I peaked through the crack. I smiled to myself upon seeing Kurt sitting at his desk reading, his tail swaying along to the music.

He glanced up and saw me in the doorway. “Guten Abend,” he welcomed shyly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I heard the music out in the hallway. It’s beautiful. What is it?”

“Gregorian chant. This is Hildegard von Bingen’s ‘Antiphons for Saint Ursula.’”

“Oh,” I remarked, because that meant nothing to me.

“Would you like to sit down? Have some hot cocoa with me, perhaps?” he offered.

“Thank you,” I accepted happily, pulling up a chair to his desk.

“One moment, please,” he said, disappearing into the door behind his desk. I didn’t look in after him, not wanting to be rude, but I assumed his room was back there, which made sense because I’d never seen him down any other hallway. In fact, I’d rarely ever seen him at all.

“Ah, there we are,” he said, coming out with two steaming mugs. He put them down and settled back into his chair. “It is a warm night, but I like the taste too much to care,” he smiled.

“Me too,” I agreed heartily after taking a sip.

“Are you enjoying your break, Rogue?”

He stumbled on my name and, for some reason, I told him, “That’s what a lot of people call me, but my real name is Anna Marie. Anna Marie D’Ancanto.” The words felt strange on my tongue. I hadn’t introduced myself that way in the longest time.

“Anna Marie is a very pretty name,” he commented. The way he said it was pure comfort, like when my momma would wake me from a nightmare.

“You can call me Anna Marie, if you’d like, Mr. Wagner.”

“I would like that very much,” he replied, sounding flattered. “But, please, for you I am simply Kurt. So, are you enjoying your break then, Anna Marie?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s been great. Except, yesterday I had sort of an accident.” Concern was evident in his yellow eyes. “No one got hurt. At least, not permanently. It’s my skin. I don’t know if anyone told you, but when people touch me, I absorb their energy and powers and stuff. A couple of younger boys decided to put it to the test. I guess they thought messing with me would be funny or something.”

“Not boys from this school, surely?”

“They were. Travis Ryan and a few others.”

“I know him,” Kurt said rather sadly.

Delicately, I asked, “Has he bothered you, too?”

“It was more the other way around. I heard he was a good gymnast and I’m a bit of an acrobat myself – I was in the Munich Circus, you know.”

“The Incredible Nightcrawler.”

“Ja.” He sipped his cocoa absentmindedly, as if he were reflecting back on fond memories. After a moment, his focus turned outward again. “Well, I thought that since he and I had something in common, that he would like to see some of the things I can do.“ His eyelids drooped. “I scared him.”

I didn’t have to say anything to convey my sympathy. It was enough that we were alike.

“So, what kind of things can you do?” I asked eventually.

“Oh, many kinds. I learned a great deal at the circus.”

I cringed inwardly, thinking that being a mutant circus performer would be degrading. “Did you like it there?” I asked, wondering how he could have.

“Ach ja, sehr viel. It was one of the best times of my life. The people who came to the shows, they cared what I looked like at first, but then once I did my act they stood up and applauded.”

Kurt entertained me with stories from his circus days for the rest of the night, not stopping until I couldn’t hold my yawns in any longer.

“I’ve lost track of time. It’s late. You should go get your rest.”

“But you didn’t finish. What happened with Fräulein Hure?”

Kurt was sheepish. “Perhaps it’s best that I didn’t finish that story. Off you go to bed now.”

“Can I come back sometime?”

“Whenever you like.”

“Goodnight, then.”

“Gute Nacht, Anna Marie.”

I left Kurt’s classroom feeling infinitely less stressed than I had coming in.

~ Too Tough to Die ~

The next day, I met Logan at the entrance to the Danger Room at one o’clock like I always did when school wasn’t in session. His arms were crossed squarely across his chest and his stance was none too inviting.

“Hey.”

I noted that he’d left off the kid. I took that as a white flag. My, “Hey, yourself,” was cheerful.

The thick, circular door slid apart to let Bobby and Cyclops through. They were done exactly on time, as per usual. Cyclops was a stickler for those kinds of things. I was glad he wasn’t my trainer.

“Got her warmed up for me, Scooter?” Logan asked.

“No, just tired her out,” Cyclops replied, barely stopping.

Bobby gave me a fleeting look, but kept on walking. I had to say something.

“Hey, Bobby, wait.”

He paused to turn around.

“Jubes, Kitty, and me are going to the mall later. Do you want to come with us? I have very specific things I need to buy, and I’m going to need some help to keep them on track.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, walking backwards. “When?”

“Meet us in the game room at, like, three-thirty.”

“Will do.” He grinned, his blue eyes warming over. “Hey, Cinnabun’s on me.”

“As if I’d pay,” I scoffed.

“Heh, right. Later, Rogue.”

“Later.” Grinning like a moron, I followed Logan into the Danger Room.

“Not exactly nursing a broken heart is he,” Logan remarked.

Evenly, I replied, “I wouldn’t want him to be.”

I began stretching out, my arms especially. My shoulder adjusted itself audibly. “Oh, that felt good.” Logan tilted his head and cracked the vertebrae in his neck. We were probably two of the few people in the world who kind of enjoyed the sound of bones popping.

“I’m ready,” I said once I’d made sure my shoelaces were tied and my hair was secure back in a ponytail.

“Get one of those light guns,” he told me. I did so, even though I was disappointed. I liked the one-on-one physical stuff better. Who could say why?

Since my power was pretty worthless in battle, Logan trained me in hand-to-hand combat and gunmanship. From Stryker, the Professor had gotten the idea of using tranquilizer guns, as they were quick, bloodless, and equally effective on humans as they were on most mutants. I was getting to be a pretty good shot.

Logan went into the control room to set up a hologram of targets. When I blasted them all down, he adjusted the hologram so that they seemed further away.

“Make them move or something. This is too easy,” I complained.

He complied. I mastered three more levels before he said through the intercom, “That’s enough. The Professor’s waiting.”

Logan was possibly more anxious about the upcoming meeting than I was, which made a certain amount of sense as it was going to be he who was risking his life by letting me test my power on him. That made me all kinds of nervous, but I forced myself to trust that Professor Xavier knew what he was doing.

I put my windbreaker jacket back on over my long-sleeved spandex top, glad I hadn’t broken much of a sweat. As we headed up to the Professor’s office, I watched Logan out of the corner of my eye. I was pleased he was going to be the one to help me with this, not just because of his handy regenerative capabilities. Whoever was going to be doing this with me was going to end up occupying a large portion of the guestroom in my mind. Plus, it meant that I was going to get to touch him. I should’ve been so happy about that considering my touch was his pain.

“Hello,” Professor Xavier greeted us when Logan opened the door. “Please, take a seat. I’ve just got one more paragraph I want to finish.”

He was reading a thick novel, the cover of which was white and red with black print. Sitting, I tilted my head so I could read the title. Science fiction.

“No, no,” the Professor said, putting his bookmark in place. “You’re thinking of H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man. This is Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. Ellison’s protagonist is socially invisible, not physically. It is an extremely enlightening book. I recommend it highly.” Logan and I stared at him, only one of us out of rudeness. The Professor stapled his fingers together. “Right, yes. On with the reason we’re here.”

Logan relaxed into the chair, putting his booted feet on the edge of Professor Xavier’s desk. Logan was lucky he was such a good fighter. The Professor might not have put up with him so well otherwise.

“Before we start, can I ask you a question?” I asked the Professor.

“Ah, yes. You want to know about Everett. Everett has the unusual ability to duplicate other mutants’ powers for a short while, just by seeing them in action. That’s how he was able to turn your powers on you, and how he escaped from harm.”

Oh, so like my power only constructive. Lucky.

“Everett’s gift has its own troubles, just as yours does. No mutation is perfect. I know that you weren’t too impressed with my offer of control,” the Professor said, making me shift guiltily in my chair. “However, I do believe that this is an attainable and worthwhile goal. In fact, my theory is that it’s a natural progression, already taking place. With the appropriate measures, it is my hope that we will be able to speed up process.”

“How can you say I have control? Look what happened yesterday.”

“There are several factors in that case very unlike the prior progress you’ve made. Before you say anything more, try and humor me for a moment. Think back to all the people you’ve touched since your mutation manifested itself. Think about how long you touched them and what effects it had on them. Can you remember?”

I nodded.

“Good. Walk us through it, Rogue. Then you’ll see the pattern.”

I took a deep breath. “David was the first. We kissed. My first kiss. It wasn’t long. Maybe five seconds. He spent three weeks in a coma. I didn’t let anyone touch me after that because I knew that it’d been my fault, even though I didn’t really know what’d happened. Anyway, when he started school again, David told everyone what I’d done to him, so people weren’t exactly lining up to touch me. I thought it’d be okay. Then my momma – She didn’t really want to believe that there was anything wrong with me, so she’d try to touch me sometimes. I woke up one night and she was touching my cheek. She fainted. She was out all night. A couple days later, my parents sent me upstate to this clinic called Southaven.”

Logan’s rapt attention was making me nervous. The Professor knew all this information, of course, but it was news to Logan. Our pasts were virtually unexplored territories.

“It was pretty awful, like crisis counseling meets juvenile detention center. I ran away twice. The first time, I barely made it out of town. Second time, I knocked out one of the security guards, Eugene Macomb. I got caught in LA and shipped back. The other kids started calling me Rogue after that. Being around them wasn’t so bad. One girl, Paige Guthrie, we called her Husk because she could shed her skin and make it turn into stuff like rock. Anyway, we thought maybe if I touched her and could take her power I could shed my skin and be able to touch people or something. Didn’t work, obviously, but I found out I could borrow powers. So when Jeffery Garrett came in, I borrowed his teleportation and hit the road.”

“How long before you met up with Logan?”

“Eight months since David, three since I ran away from Southaven.”

“And how many people did you touch in that time period?”

I squirmed again. Nothing had happened, yet I was still not comfortable talking about it. “I stole this guy’s wallet once and he grabbed me by the back of the neck. It was warm out, so I wasn’t wearing my hood. It was only a brush. He didn’t get knocked out or anything, but he stopped chasing me. I went back to LA, since that’s where mutant kids go. I stayed underground with some other mutants. There was a girl, Domino, she convinced this prep school kid she called Cypher to help her rob some ATMs, and I kept a lookout. But then she got it in her head that we should rob a bank. I wasn’t about to get caught and sent back to Southaven again – ”

I cleared my throat, remembering Logan wasn’t my only audience.

“Uh, and, you know, robbing banks is morally wrong – so when they tried to force me, I knocked them both out, used their powers to get some cash, and hit the road. And the other…I always got rides with truckers because they asked the least questions. They were mostly pretty nice, and they left me alone. Only two of them ever tried to get rough with me.”

“Christ,” Logan hissed.

“They never got very far,” I felt compelled to make clear. “One of them, Gordon was his name, he…well, he pushed me down and tried to kiss me.” There had been more to it than that, but Logan was seething enough. “He didn’t even last half a second before he was unconscious.”

“Anyone else?” Logan gritted out.

“No. Then it was you. And Magneto, and you again. It’s just been Bobby since. Oh, and John once, when I had to stop him from hurting those cops.”

“Go back for a moment,” the Professor said. “Think about when you touched Logan. You needed his power to heal yourself from a potentially fatal wound, which takes a lot of energy. So why wasn’t he unconscious as long as, say, David? You only kissed him.”

“I can heal pretty quick,” Logan reminded him.

“Point taken. That could very well have been a factor. But what about John? You held onto his leg for quite some time, if you’re remembering correctly, and he walked away unscathed.”

“That’s true. And I let go really easily. I don’t know how.”

“I can only offer speculation, but I think it’s because you were concentrating hard enough that you were able to pull his energy from his power instead of from his life force. That’s why he was unable to use his power while you were touching him. In the case of Logan, you didn’t have that control yet, so you drew from both sources equally. Notice when he healed you yesterday – which was, I have to admit, against my advice,” Professor Xavier added for Logan’s benefit. “Since you were unconscious, your body blindly absorbed all that it could as fast as it could. The effects were rather powerful. Logan was dizzy for a good twenty minutes.”

Logan shrugged, not looking at me.

“Therefore, I believe that the key to your power, Rogue, is to embrace it. When you wield it for a purpose, you’re in control.”

“But what if I don’t want to take someone’s powers or their energy? What if I just want to touch them?”

“That…can’t be done.”

His certainly shocked me. “How do you know?”

“Dr. McCoy ran more tests yesterday. I’m afraid the results…You see, every gift has a purpose. Yours is not much different from Logan’s in that they’re both designed for self-preservation. Logan is virtually impossible to kill and, since his body has reached its peak, he no longer ages. You could probably do the same, just by living off other people’s life forces.”

The suggestion was highly offensive to me.

“I didn’t say you would. I merely pointed out that you could.”

“The test results,” Logan interjected, getting to the heart of the matter.

“Yes. It is difficult for me to say this to you, Rogue, but you deserve the truth. In order to unlock this life essence, the people you touch have to be weakened. Your cells exude a sort of imperceptible toxin, which does the job. That toxin is why you can’t just touch.”

“I see.”

It was a good thing I’d officially given up all hope yesterday, or this news would’ve crushed me.

“Professor McCoy thinks that there’s a slight chance that if he were able to get enough of this toxin to test he could maybe find something to counteract it. Perhaps.”

“Can’t hurt to try,” I managed, because it was expected.

“No, it can’t. Rogue, I’m very sorry.”

The phone on Professor Xavier’s desk rang suddenly, causing me to jump.

“Excuse me,” he said, picking it up. “I have to take this. Hello, Mr. President. Charles Xavier. I’m glad you got my message. Pardon me? No, I can hold.” Putting his hand over the receiver, he told me, “We’ll discuss your future training more tomorrow. This could take a while.”

Logan and I left his office quietly.

“Like I said, there are creative ways,” Logan said finally.

“It’s still not worth it.”

“What’re you going to do?”

I checked his watch. Right on schedule. “First off, I’m going to go change. Then, I’m going to meet the gang.”

A vast, infinite universe of coping strategies open wide to me…and I chose the mall. For better or worse? I still don’t know.

~ Know Your Rights ~

When I reached my room, there was a clear, blue CD case sitting on my floor, as if someone had slid it under my door. I picked it up, noting the boyish cursive that proclaimed the CD “Rogue’s Mix.” There was a note along with it in the same handwriting. It read: “Dear Rogue, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I’ve learned my lesson. Please take this humble gift as a gesture of apology. Sincerely, Travis Ryan.”

Highly skeptical, I played the CD on my laptop while I changed my clothes. I didn’t recognize the first track until it got to the chorus. It was “Poison” by Alice Cooper. Little bastard didn’t know how right he was. I picked up the remote and flipped it to the next song. White Snake, “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight.” I flipped it again. The Doors, “People Are Strange.” The rest of the CD was the same. Most of the songs were good ones, only with mildly insulting titles like “Psycho Therapy” by The Ramones. God, talk about holding a grudge.

I finished dressing, and then got out a pen and paper to send my reply. “Flea: Thank you so much for the mix. How’d you know I like classic rock? Your apology is gladly accepted. I’m happy to know that you’re mature enough to realize that we’re all a team, and we’re all in this together. Things are going to be changing a lot for you next year since you’re going to be a freshman. If this gesture is any indication, then I think that you’re going to grow up to be a very well-rounded, likeable guy. Thanks again for the CD. If you feel like making me another one, I am from Mississippi, so maybe a little ‘Mississippi Queen’ is in order? Just a thought. Thanks again, Rogue.”

There. That was mature and suitably sarcastic. Even if he was dense enough to take it seriously, it would only serve to make him feel bad. Provided he had a conscience. I wasn’t quite sure about that.

Taking my purse, the note, and my heavy bag of returns with me, I headed downstairs to meet Jubilee and Kitty in the game room. On my way, I happened to run into Artie. I gave him the note to give to Flea, along with a huge, friendly grin, just to confuse the hell out of him.

Bobby was already with Kitty and Jubilee when I got there. He was saying, “How could you guys want to go shopping again? Didn’t you just get back from a week-long shopping spree?”

Jubilee blinked at him, her face blank. “Yeah. Your point?”

“I guess I don’t really have one.”

“Hey, how’d the big meeting go?” Jubilee asked when she noticed me. At the question, Kitty looked up from her palm pilot and Bobby grew tense.

“It’s official. I’m terminal.”

Disappointment flashed in Jubilee’s eyes, but she just said, “Suckage.”

I ignored her pity, and Kitty and Bobby’s, and replied just as causally, “Totally. You guys ready?”

The four of us went out to the garage. Bobby punched in the password into the computer and swiped his Student ID so that we could check out a car. It wasn’t one of Cyclops’s really nice ones, but it was a fairly new model of the Saturn Eclipse. Definitely not something we were ashamed to be seen in. We played rock, paper, scissors to see who would drive. Jubilee won. I quickly called shotgun so that Bobby and Kitty would have to squeeze in the back together. Jubilee winked at me over the roof of the car, since we were now coconspirators.

The mall was fairly dead and I was on a mission, so we got my shopping done quickly. Kitty and Jubilee mourned the loss of the clothes they’d so diligently helped me pick out, not heartened by my constant assurances that we were doing a service to mankind. Once I was satisfied with my new wardrobe, Jubilee dragged Kitty off to skimpier territory while Bobby and I hit Best Buy on the way to the food court.

“Hey, look,” Bobby said, picking up the new Razorlight album.

“They’ve been around forever,” I remarked. “Johnny Borrell still thinks he’s Jim Morrison and Bob Dylan combined. Rock star egos. What’re you gonna do?”

“Yeah, I still like them, though. I was probably twelve when their first CD came out. I remember my friend’s sister had it. Ah, here it is. Up All Night. I gotta buy both of these, man. ‘Golden Touch,’ now that’s a great song.” To my horror, he started to sing, “‘I know a girl with a golden touch / She’s got enough, she’s got too much / But I know, you wouldn’t mind / You could have it all it if you want it / You could have it all if it mattered – ’”

“Bobby,” I interrupted. “Bobby. You’re very loud.” And off-key.

“Oh, I embarrass you. That’s really why you broke up with me, isn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What is it like in your head? With me in there, I mean. I never understood that.”

“It’s hard to explain. I don’t even know. It’s not really you, but it’s enough like you that I sometimes feel like if turn around really fast you’ll be standing behind me. You don’t talk to me or anything. It’s not like I hear voices. I might find myself doing things you would do, though. Like at Thanksgiving last year. I couldn’t stand the smell of yams, even though they used to be my favorite.”

“Ugh, I hate yams.”

“I know you do.”

“You talk like me, too.” Sounding like Yosemite Sam he continued, “Your Southern drawl’s almost completely gone, little darlin’.”

“I forbid you from talking like that ever again. But, yeah, I did notice that.”

“Do you have my memories?”

“I think I only remember them if you were thinking something specifically while we were touching.” I grinned teasingly. “Like your first kiss, in kindergarten behind the bushes with Julie Reeder. Thinking about another girl while you’re kissing me. For shame.”

Bobby laughed. “If it’s any consolation, your breath smells a lot better than hers did. I think she ate dirt.”

“I think she did, too. You sure do know how to pick the ladies.”

“Eh, you weren’t so bad. Not much to look at, though.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up and buy me a Cinnabun, Icepick.”

We hung around the mall for a while longer, basking in our easy camaraderie. It was dusk before we got back to the school. We would’ve stayed out later, but the car needed to be back.

Logan was waiting for me, a first in my estimation. “Feel like going to a movie?” he asked me.

“You want to go to the movie theater? You know there are people there, right?”

He shrugged. “I was a dick. Thought I’d make up to you.”

Be still, my heart. “I could go for that. Let me put my stuff away in my room.”

“We’ll help,” Jubilee announced, taking one of the smaller bags from me. We all crowded into the elevator, standing in silence. It was too much for Jubilee. “So what movie are you gonna see? I recommend the new Johnny Depp one. I swear to God, that man does not age. You think he’s a mutant? Probably. Hey, Bobby, you and Kitty should go along. It’d be like a double – ” She caught Logan’s glare. “Never mind.”

We reached the second floor. My door was second across from the elevator, right next door to Bobby’s. Logan’s room was down the hall.

Jubilee unceremoniously tossed the bag she’d been carrying onto my bed. “Here, here’s your stuff. Have fun, kiddies. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

When she, Bobby, and Kitty had disappeared into Bobby’s room, Logan leaned on my doorframe, exasperated. “Does that girl ever shut up?”

“Huh-uh. I don’t even think she has to breathe anymore.”

“Remind me again how you two could be the same age?”

That was the best compliment he could’ve given me. Smiling, I replied, “Don’t let her exuberance fool you. She’s pretty crafty. You’d be surprised.”

Suddenly serious, Logan studied me closely, his head cocked. “Are you happier now?”

“Happiness is relative. I’m balanced, that’s what matters.”

Logan grunted his approval. “C’mon, let’s get outta here. Kid.”

Yeah, I was definitely in love with that man, more so at that moment than ever before. As for him, I knew he cared a lot about me, loved me even. It wasn’t everything I wanted, but it was enough. Nothing about my surroundings had changed, yet for once I was happy to be right where I was. And grateful. I hadn’t been truly grateful in a long time.