Her window faced the back gardens and what lay beyond them, areas that were never flooded with artificial light because of Ororo's insistence that the flowers and trees should not have their natural pattern of light and dark broken by human intervention. Only the moon, a pale waning crescent, sent its light down to caress the ground softly that night. As she gazed out the window, she could see the bright stars clustered together. She picked out constellations which she had learned of years before, barely remembered. The Big Dipper, Orion, Auriga, Gemini, and Cassiopeia. All representing something special to people throughout the ages, even if most people didn't know their names in these modern times.

Rogue glanced over at the clock on her desk. Its blue digits cried out the time. 7:58. So early in the evening. Yet she knew that she had to do what she wanted soon, or she'd lose the nerve. It was so hard to even think of it.

She took a deep breath and looked back out to the stars. It'd been three months and the pain was still fresh. It hurt to think of him, so strong and such a presence in her mind for too long. She knew how he thought, how he moved, his thoughts and his feelings. But she couldn't have predicted what happened. She wasn't sure if anyone could have.

Rogue stood and went to look at herself in the full length mirror which was on the back of her closet door. The reflection it revealed to her was the same as it had been for as long as she could remember, bar a few minor changes. The shirt covering her torso was tighter than she might have worn half a year ago, made of material she hadn't even known existed years ago, thin and silky and not at all appropriate for going outside with the current 21degree temperature which the onset of winter brought them. Her jeans looked as if they could probably have been painted on and the results would have been the same. Her hair was short, the ends at level with her chin, and the front was twisted back so that the white strands mixed with the brown. Her eyes were lined lightly with green eyeliner and her lips were touched up with a dark reddish lipstick, a look that was too usual for her now. She admitted to herself that she actually looked older because of the make-up and the more daring clothes, but it didn't seem like her. Probably because it wasn't who she had been, and she wasn't used to who she had become.

'You didn't want to be you,' she told herself wryly. She had changed her image abruptly one day three months ago. Most of the way she dressed and looked now was courtesy of her best friend, Jubilee, who was now off at college.

She supposed she could have joined Jubilee. It wasn't as if she was a threat to humanity anymore. The fact that she wasn't wearing the gloves and scarf that had been her trademark around the school attested to that. No, they'd found the key to controlling her powers at the same time that her life had fallen apart and the man she'd been sure she loved had left, leaving her to pick up the broken pieces and start over.

"Damn him," Rogue whispered softly, glaring at a crumpled ball of metal lying on her desk. The only reminder of him which she had kept, no longer as it used to be. Just like her.

'No time for this,' she told herself as she saw the clock in the mirror. It read 8:01.

"It's now or never," she said to her reflection, trying to sound confident.

She headed for the door to her bedroom, her knees feeling a little weak. She took a deep breath and laid her hand on the brass doorknob. She hesitated only minute before twisting it and pulling the door slowly open.

The hallway was empty. Not surprising, since there were currently only three people occupying the eight rooms that opened into it. Ororo was probably with the Professor and the students in the rec room. The third person was in his room, she knew, maybe grading papers or just sitting and thinking--well, brooding. He did that a lot lately.

'Just two feet, Roguey. You only need to go two feet. You can make it,' she reassured herself, borrowing Jubilee's voice even though she'd never had her in her mind. She once shared a room with the girl, and that was enough.

She stopped in front of his door and her breath caught a little. Her mind was suddenly screaming at her that she need time to think, time to decide if this was really the right thing to do. Then she straightened her shoulders and, ignoring that inner screaming, lifted a trembling hand to knock three times on the door.

"Come in." He sounded tired, even muffled by the thick wooden door.

Rogue pushed it open and stood there in the doorway, unable to take the final step into his room and out of her old life. He was lounging on his bed, a leather-bound book in one hand. He turned to look in her direction, and the harsh lines of his face softened when he saw who was interrupting his solitude.

"Rogue. I wasn’t sure you’d be here tonight." His voice was low.

"Scott, Ah..." Rogue stopped and licked her dry lips. "Could you...hold me? Please?" she asked, and her voice broke a little with something that was a mixture of tears and hope.

He put the book down on the bed and stood up. Walking over to her, Scott took her bare hand and pulled her into his room, closing the door when she was inside. His heart leaped in his chest when Rogue looked up at him. His eyes roamed over the smooth planes of her face, the dark pools that were her eyes to him. And her lips, lines soft and full.

"I told you I'd always be here, Rogue. I meant it," Scott told her quietly. He pulled her into his arms and paused, tensing to wait for her reaction.

But Rogue just wrapped her arms around his neck, knowing that this was right. No matter what had happened in their lives, no matter what might happen next, this moment they were being true to themselves. And that was all that mattered to her. Damn the voices in her head, anyway. When had they ever given her good advice outside of a combat situation?

Scott's mouth descended to hers, and it wasn't the gentle kiss which she'd expected. Instead, his lips were hungry, possessive, demanding that she give the same in return.

'Yes,' was her only thought as the heat flared between them.

*Four Months Earlier*

He'd been on the damn motorcycle for three days, stopping a few hours each night to grab some sleep in the kind of motels even he didn't usually want to enter. He was just so sick of traveling. He’d had a taste of what life in a real home was like, and despite the fact that he was pretty sure half of the residents at Xavier’s were probably dysfunctional psychos, he was determined to return.

He didn’t really question his need to get back to that mansion in New York. He didn’t want to think about it, because if he thought about it he’d have to face the dreams he had each night that he knew were just plain wrong. You weren’t supposed to think about minors like that. He knew at least that much, and he’d always stayed away from young girls who were in bars looking for the wrong kind of escape from the world.

Logan tried to make his mind blank as he roared past the open wrought iron gates. Instead, he focused on the students he could see on the side lawns. He’d come at just the right time, when those who had homes that welcomed them were gone for summer break, meaning fewer pesky teenagers around. He searched through the kids running around outside, but he didn’t see the familiar face he was looking for.

“Logan!”

Oh, that didn’t sound good. He turned his head to watch Scott Summers run down the front steps of the mansion, a look of desperation on his face. The way the other man’s glasses were pointed downward, he was obviously checking his precious motorcycle for scratches. Or larger damage. Not that Logan had let anything happen to the damn thing. He knew the value of a good – okay, fucking terrific – piece of machinery.

“Thanks for letting me borrow the bike, Cyke. I’m gonna go say hello all nice and happy to Wheels now,” he said gruffly. He got off the bike and grabbed his bag just in time. Scott was already starting to wheel the thing towards the garage.

Scott simply nodded and kept going, so Logan made his way inside. He figured that, since it was closest, he’d just do what he’d said he would and let the Professor know that he was back. He wanted to make sure he’d still be welcome, too, after that incident with Sabertooth in Vancouver. He really hadn’t had any choice but to kill the man. Hopefully for good, this time.

Logan pushed open the door to the study where he’d first met Charles Xavier. The man was alone, his back to the only entrance. Logan would’ve thought that was foolish if he hadn’t known that Xavier could take control of anyone he chose with the power of his mind alone.

“Welcome back, Logan. How was your trip?” Xavier asked, turning his chair to face the new arrival. He made it sound as if it had been months, not years, since Logan left.

Talks like it was a fucking vacation, Logan thought wryly. “There was a lead I thought would help at Alkali, but nothing else. The lead didn’t turn out to be all that hot, either. These people cleaned up after themselves pretty good. I kinda figured that I couldn’t do anything about them up there, but here…well, you guys seem to go against the ones who’re harming people, and I thought that maybe one day, if I was with you, one day we’d be fighting them since they only know how to harm, and so I could get them back for what they did to me,” he said awkwardly. He knew that didn’t come out too great, but he hoped that Xavier would let him stay anyway.

“Logan, revenge can only last so long, and it is not a particularly good reason for wanting to join the X-Men. We help those who are victimized no matter who they are. What if we had to rescue these people who did so much damage to you one day? What would you do?” Xavier asked.

The Wolverine in him growled a little at the idea, but Logan managed to hold him back. “I’d do what I had to do, and I’d mark them. And watch them. ‘Cause they’d slip up some day, Chuck, and then I’d be right there to let ‘em fall on my claws.”

Xavier sighed and then nodded. “We need you, Logan. The X-Men have grown in the years that you have been gone, but not quickly enough. There are rumors of something big about to break, something we may not be prepared for. I accept your offer to join us,” he said. Logan was about to leave when Xavier said, “You’re going to need something to do during the day, Logan. Perhaps you’d consider teaching or helping our around the school.”

In other words, you need to pay to stay. Logan understood and respected that. He’d been traveling around on his own too long not to. He nodded and left.

The halls were empty as he walked through them, and Logan found that relaxing. He headed to the room he’d occupied during his last stay, and he wasn’t surprised to find that it hadn’t changed at all. In fact, several sets of clothing his size had been added to the wardrobe, shoes his size were lined up at the bottom, and there were cigars and whiskey in a locked drawer in the bedside table. Good old Xavier, he thought, always prepared.

After he’d gotten used to the changes, he finally noticed something that had been nagging the back of his mind. It was a scent that was as familiar to him as his own.

Marie had been here. A lot, as the freshness of her scent testified to. And she’d been everywhere. He wondered how many times she’d come here and just walked around touching things.

Logan was just finishing putting away the few things he’d taken with him and the even fewer things he’d acquired when his door opened. He turned and resisted the urge to grin.

“Hey, kid,” he said.

She stared at him in shock, her face paling instantly. “Lo-Logan! Ah didn’t know you were back! Ah came here ‘cause Ah thought Ah left a glove up here…umm…a few days ago,” she babbled. He noticed that she still had a hint of the South in her voice even after a couple years living in New York.

He thought it was pretty amusing and let the smile through – just a little. Yeah, a smirk would be okay. “Yeah, thought you’d been around a lot.” He wondered why though. Why she’d chosen his room.

---

“It’s just that there’s nowhere else around here to go when Ah need to get away from…the world, Ah guess. Ah felt comfortable here,” Rogue said, regaining some of her composure by reminding herself that she was an adult now, legally and everything. She stepped forward into the room and smiled. “It’s good to have you home, Logan,” she said, unsure of how to greet him. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but something held her back. It wasn’t as if she really knew him or anything. He’d just saved her life and was in her head, although his presence in her mind was slowly fading with time. He didn’t really know her, either.

“I missed you, Marie,” Logan said honestly, shocking her by giving her a hesitant hug.

“Umm…Ah missed you, too, Logan,” Rogue replied, hugging him back. She pulled back and looked up at him seriously. “How was your trip?” she asked, knowing that it was very important to him that he find some part of who and what he had been.

Her heart ached for him when he just shook his head. “Looks like all that’s left are dead ends. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see if they’ll come to me,” Logan told her, his features hardening briefly.

“Ah’m sorry,” Rogue said softly, squeezing his hand. “Ah was really hoping you’d find something out there to help you.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling down at her. She felt as if the sun had burst from behind a cloud at the sight of that wonderful smile directed only at her.

“Hey, you know, Ah think it's almost dinner time. You gonna eat with the rest of us, or are you gonna drop like it looks like you want to?” Rogue asked, trying to add a little sparkle to her expression. She felt herself relaxing, remembering how kind he had been to her when he convinced her to the give the School another shot.

Logan's eyebrow shot up. “I guess food wouldn't be a bad idea. Is it still as good as last time?”

Rogue laughed. “Better. We got a new cook last year,” she told him as she moved back into the hallway so that he could follow her. “Have you seen anyone else yet?” Please don't say Jean. Please don't say Jean.

Shaking his head a little, Logan fell into step beside her. “Just the Professor and Scooter. I wanted to settle in a little first. Wasn't sure what the reaction would be.” He seemed about to say something else, but it died unsaid.

“Well, Ah for one am glad you're back. Ah have a feeling you being here will liven things up a little,” Rogue said, greatly daring.

Logan's eyebrow shot up. “Really? Why's that?”

“Because you're you, silly. And Ah know how it was when Ah was acting like you for a few days.” She felt safe giving him a smug little grin.

It actually earned her something resembling a chuckle. “I guess.”

They were almost to the dining room when she remembered and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Oh, Ah guess...Ah mean, do you want your tags back?” she asked, lifting them a little shyly from where they had been tucked into her shirt.

The eyebrow again. “You wear 'em, huh?”

Rogue blushed a little. “Yeah. They...they make me feel safer,” she admitted quietly.

Logan's brow instantly furrowed a bit. He raised a hand to brush the white hair next to her neck, closer than most got to her skin. “You okay here, kid?” he asked gruffly.

Rogue smiled, although it hurt to hear him call her that. “Ah'm fine, Logan, really! It's just sometimes, you know, the past can be a little hard to handle. But Ah'm working through it. The Professor and—and Jean really help me a lot, Ah promise.”

Logan nodded and seemed to accept that. “Yeah, kid, I know what you mean.”

They continued on to the dining room in silence.

Rogue let herself relax into the unfamiliar pillows. She knew that Scott had burned all of his bedding when they left. He didn't say anything, but she saw him carrying a bundle of sheets out to the large outdoor fire pit, saw the bonfire he created that night. The comforter was new, too. She wondered idly what he had done with the old one as she traced the silver and black design. Nice contrast, something he could see easily despite the glasses, almost the opposite of the elaborate paisley monster Jean had preferred. Everywhere she looked in the room she had visited occasionally as a student needing Jean's advice, she saw the absence of the other woman's touch. He did a really good job cleaning her out of his life, much better than Rogue would have thought him capable of.

She turned when she felt his fingers running along her shoulder, skimming her collarbone lightly. He was watching her, a small frown marring his forehead. She reached up and brushed his hair away, ran her own fingers through it softly.

“Don't be upset with me,” she whispered.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Scott asked, catching her hand and placing a kiss on her palm.

Rogue gave him a little smile, all she could muster when it came to this topic. “Ah didn't want you to shy away. Logan never even tried, you know. It was all just touches and flirtations.” She wanted to be bitter. Somewhere deep down, she was, but this wasn't the time for bitter. She felt strangely peaceful. Content.

“I'm sorry.” Scott didn't know what to say beyond that. He stared at the woman in his bed, once a student, now a friend, the closest one he had. They had made it through Hell and back together, picking up the pieces of their lives, the futures they thought they were going to get.

“It's over now. Ah'm just glad to have you tonight,” Rogue told him honestly. She let her smile grow some. “It was highly educational.”

Scott groaned and buried his face into her shoulder. She laughed and resumed skimming her fingers through his hair. It was so soft and silky, even nicer than her own. This was so good, being able to touch him like this. It almost made up for...past disappointments. But she pushed that away. Not here, not now with him. He didn't deserve that.

“Do you want me to go back to my room?” she asked him, suddenly a little unsure.

His arm tightened around her in response. “Not unless you want to.”

Rogue shook her head. “Ah don't.” They were quiet for a few minutes, laying there listening to each other breathe. It was so calm, so soothing. She needed to be soothed.

On the edge of sleep, Rogue sighed deeply. “You know, Ah should probably at least go wash this make-up off,” she told Scott, snuggling into him because she really didn't want to move.

Scott chuckled. “Well, we could always shower,” he suggested softly.

Rogue smiled at him. “Ah'd like that, Ah think,” she told him. Once she was on her feet, and especially since he was still trying to untangle himself from the blankets, she added, “After all, it should be a good lesson, right?” She giggled as he chased her into the bathroom.

They washed, eventually. First Scott taught her that hot water running down her skin and a hot mouth lavishing kisses onto shoulder, breasts, stomach were two completely different sensations. He taught her the way that hands slick with water felt when they cupped her breasts, rolled her nipples even as his mouth claimed hers for another of those wild kisses that still surprised her a little. Then he taught her that the easiest way for him to slide inside of her while they were standing there, water pulsing down on them, was for her to be pressed forward against the warm tile while his arms cradled her, his hips thrusting against her backside and his thighs supporting hers.

She was standing there, still shuddering from her orgasm and his, when she realized that she could really do this. It was so easy, so simple and pure, despite what others might think, to let herself be held in Scott's arms, to forget everything except that her friend was there for her in every possible way. She turned, letting him slide out of her, then threw her arms around him, offering him that comfort, too, that shelter against the world that he was becoming for her.

They made it back to the bed after helping each other dry off. Rogue insisted sleeping with a sheet between them, “Just in case, Scott. Ah'm not sure my control lasts while Ah sleep, and Ah didn't bring a nightgown or anything.” So Scott rummaged through his drawers until he found a long-sleeved pajama top that wouldn't be too big for her with the cuffs rolled up, insisting that she wear at least that so that he could hold her in his arms. And they both slept through the night for the first time in three months.

*Three Months, Two Weeks Earlier*

Logan glared at Scott. “Get your mind out of the gutter, One-Eye,” he snarled. He was aware that the other occupants of the room were staring at the two men standing just inches from each other, animosity radiating from them in waves.

“I'm just asking you to keep a shirt on, Logan. That's it. For God's sake, this is a school!” Scott sneered. “Just because you have this perverted need to show off for every woman within a two-mile radius doesn't mean that you should ignore basic standards of decency when around hormonal teenage girls!”

“I don't give a damn about your standards. It's eighty fucking degrees out, and I was out for a run. Yeah, I'm gonna run in the minimum I can get away with by my own standards. So get the fuck over it, Scooter. Or is it that you don't like your girl looking at my chest? Afraid she's making comparisons, One-Eye?” Logan smirked, wondering how much more he could get out of the man with the stick up his ass.

“I trust Jean,” Scott said softly, taking a step closer. “I just don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself, Wolverine.” He shouldered past his rival and stalked off, completely ignoring the woman who was at the heart of their argument as she stood to one side, staring with the others.

Logan looked at Jean, his smirk widening. “What do ya say, Jeannie? Do you want me to keep my hands to myself?”

Jean looked at him coolly. “Logan, we need to talk,” she said seriously.

Logan sidled up to Jean, ignoring the others in the study. “Sweetheart, I had a lot more in mind than just talking,” he said, leaning in to whisper it in her ear to quietly for most of the other occupants to hear.

Jean blushed and gave him a stern look. “I think we'll talk,” she said, heading out the door.

Logan followed, caught her hand as she was about to step into the elevator.

“Jean, you and I could do so many more productive things than...talk. I know you like to be productive,” he told her, raising her hand to his lips.

Jerking away, Jean glared at him. “I don't think it's productive to hurt the man I love, Logan. And I do love Scott,” she told him.

“You may love him, or think you do, but I can tell that you want me. You reek of it, sweetheart,” Logan growled, leaning in close to her.

Jean shook her head. “I'm adult enough to see that what I want and what I need are two different things, Logan. I need love, not a hot night in a man's bed and then to be left alone. So please, just stop.” She quickly entered the elevator while he stood there staring, unable to comprehend that she was rejecting him. He knew, knew that she wanted him far more than she did Scott. So what was the problem? He raked his hand through his hair and turned to leave. That's when he saw her.

Rogue stared at him with the same disapproving expression Jean had just given him, her arms folded and lips tight. There was something else in her eyes, but he couldn't tell what. She shook her head when he started towards her and turned on her heel, heading towards the door leading to the terrace.

That was just fine. It looked like the two most important women in Logan's life thought he was being...what? Inconsiderate? How could it be inconsiderate to feel the way he did and want the same for the woman he felt that for? Callous? For what, ignoring Scott's “feelings”? There was no way the man felt the same way for Jean as he did, or she wouldn't be turning, albeit reluctantly, towards him. She'd be satisfied, happy. The important thing, in Logan's mind, was Jean's feelings, not Scott's. He didn't care what the other man went through as long as Jean was happy, and it just didn't seem like Scott was offering her the kind of happiness Logan knew he could give her.

Logan hit the control for the elevator and waited impatiently for it to come back up. It looked like he needed more than that run. He needed to pound something into tiny pieces, and he knew just where to go. Thank goodness for the Danger Room.

---

Rogue sat on a bench in the garden, knees drawn to her chest and arms wrapped around them. She told herself not to cry. It was bound to happen. She knew what the Logan in her head thought of Jean. Hell, she often found herself admiring the other woman's ass without realizing what she was doing at first, and if that wasn't embarrassing, she didn't know what was. Sure, the Logan in her head was also really protective of her, offered her good and practical advice sometimes, but he didn't think of her that way. She had a feeling she'd be doing a lot more self-gratification if he had. Her mirror never offered her the same tantalizing flashes of lust as Jean's body sometimes did, no matter how many times she tried to suppress the Logan in her head.

So she knew. There was no getting around Logan's attraction to Jean, no matter how intriguing Rogue herself found the man. He didn't look at her that way. After the initial mystery surrounding her acceptance at the School, no one, boy or man, had looked at her that way. Sometimes she wondered if she wasn't invisible.

“Hey, chica, what's wrong?”

Rogue looked up to see Jubilee standing next to her. She hadn't even noticed her friend approaching. She watched her sit next to her, and saw her placing a bare hand on her gloved one as if she were experiencing it from the outside.

“Ah just...Ah was thinking, you know, how Ah'm eighteen and yet not a single guy around here cares. Ah don't get the kind of looks you and Kitty and the others get. Ah'm just...all stifled and covered up all the time,” Rogue said with a sigh.

Jubilee's eyes actually gleamed at that. “You know, chica, I've tried to convince you that there are improvements which could be made to your wardrobe, but you've always resisted. If you want, I'm still willing to help you out with that.”

Rogue looked at her and gave a small smile. “You know, that might just help. Ah wasn't sure it was necessary before, but two years...well, it's a long time to be alone, you know?” Of course, Rogue didn't tell her friend that the reason she wanted to change had to do with Logan. She knew Jubilee's opinion on the matter. According to her, the man should be skinned alive for not even calling to say hi while he was gone or bothering to send a postcard or letter. No email, either. Yeah, whenever Rogue brought up the subject of Logan, Jubilee took great delight in referring to him in terms that Rogue knew her mama would probably have fainted to hear. Jubilee had been less than happy when Rogue was hanging out with Logan over the past two weeks, often shaking her head if she passed by them.

Jubilee was nodding enthusiastically. “Are you free now, Roguey? We could go to the mall.”


“Ah have a session with the Professor in a few minutes, but after that Ah'm free. Can you wait an hour or two?” Rogue asked, straightening on the bench and pushing her hair behind one ear.

Jubilee grinned. “For you, chica, anything.”

Rogue went to her control session with Professor Xavier feeling a renewed determination to master her skin. After almost an hour of intense meditation and telepathic scans, the Professor felt confident enough to allow Rogue to touch his bare hand with hers. The contact lasted for ten whole seconds before Rogue started to feel the pull, and even then she was able to rein it in, stopping the pull for a whole minute longer before she felt unable to hold it and drew her hand away. The Professor was very pleased with her, but Rogue made him promise not to say anything to anyone else. Yes, a minute of contact was improvement, one she had been steadily building up to for the past six months since her hormone levels had begun to balance in post-puberty, according to the specialist the Professor had consulted with, one Dr. Henry McCoy. However, it wasn't a prolonged period of contact, and that's what Rogue was after. She tried to keep her reasons firmly locked away where the Professor couldn't hear them, but she had no idea if she succeeded.

Jubilee was waiting for her outside of the Professor's office. She was kidnapped for the remainder of the afternoon by Jubilee and Kitty, both of whom were constantly throwing clothes at her with comments like “You'll practically be able to see your skin through this shirt, so make sure you wear this cami—look, it's got lace around the neckline!” or “Those jeans are so tight no one could miss that fine ass of yours, chica. Do a little twirl for us now!” It was so much exhilarating fun that Rogue wondered why she had dismissed the idea when Jubilee first mentioned it years ago, preferring instead to order online. Bah! No more of that for her!

Rogue also made a daring decision while they were out. She kept seeing her long hair, how it covered up so many of the cute tops she was purchasing. After another desperate attempt to restrain the heavy mass so that she could see how the top she was trying on fit, she told her friends that she was going to get it cut. This led to Jubilee and Kitty throwing all of their choices at the nearest cashier, along with a credit card, then Jubilee whisking her out the door in one direction and Kitty going in the other to drop their purchases off at the car. For two hours Rogue was pampered at the mall's salon. At the end of that time, her hair was short and she had been given very thorough lessons on how to improve her current make-up regimen, which was minimal at best. Looking at herself in the mirror, Rogue acknowledged the definite improvement and hugged her friends for the impromptu make-over. She couldn't wait to see reactions once she got back to the School, especially one reaction in particular.

Rogue woke to the unfamiliar feeling of an arm draped across her. For a moment, just a moment, her heart sang because she thought it was Logan's arm. Then reality crashed in, and she was hard pressed to keep back the sobs. The last thing Scott needed was to wake and find the woman in his bed crying her eyes out. After several slow, deep breaths Rogue was able to control herself. Then she stirred, just a little, to see how deeply asleep the man by her side was.

“Mmmm...morning, Rogue,” he mumbled, and buried his face in her arm. It was endearing, and she couldn't help but smile. Somehow she always imagined that Scott would bounce out of bed, full of energy and ready for anything. It was amusing to see that he woke sluggish and cuddly.

“Good morning, Scott,” she said softly. She made sure her mutation was off then ran her fingers through his hair. It just made him curl in more, and they laid like that for a few minutes. Finally Rogue's grumbling stomach made her reluctantly sit up.

She smiled when Scott's arm tightened around her waist. “Ah'm going to go put on some clothes and get some breakfast. Ah love Saturdays,” she told him, running a hand along his arm before moving it so that she could scoot to the edge of the bed.

He raised his head a little from the pillow where it had fallen when she sat up. “I'll see you downstairs, I guess. We've got combat practice this afternoon,” he reminded her.

Rogue laughed. “And now Ah know why our practices are all in the afternoon, Scott. You just can't get out of bed, can you?”

Scott smiled sheepishly. “Not on the weekends. We have to wake up so early for classes during the week,” he complained.

Rogue shot him a look as she gathered her clothes. “Your own fault, Scott. Why don't you change the start time if you don't like it?”

He shook his head. “Nah, it's late enough. Most schools in the area start before eight o'clock, anyway. If they can torture their students, why can't we torture ours?” he joked.

She laughed. “Ah see. So this is all an evil plot, hmmm?”

“Damn straight.”

Rogue moved to his door and looked back. “Ah'll get the shirt back to you, okay?”

Scott smiled. “No rush. Have a good breakfast,” he said, then he burrowed into his pillow again as she slipped out.

Rogue almost made it to her room without anyone seeing her. It was just her luck that Ororo stepped out of her room just as she wrapped her free hand around her doorknob. The other woman stared at her in some surprise for a few moments, taking in her rumpled hair and the too-large shirt. Then she did something that Rogue had not been expecting at all. She smiled. It was a slightly sad smile, but there it was.

“Good morning, Rogue,” was all 'Ro said as she moved toward the stairs.

“Morning, 'Ro,” Rogue replied automatically before letting herself into her room. She wondered if her cheeks were as pink as they felt.

Looking into the mirror, she decided that they were. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what she and Scott had done the night before. She just hadn't expected to face any of their friends quite so soon after leaving his bed. It occurred to her that 'Ro might not have known which room she had been in, then she dismissed that. The woman's hearing wasn't that bad, and Scott's room was right next to hers. She would have heard the door.

Rogue forced herself to get dressed, spritz her hair with some water to settle it and then run a brush through it, and apply make-up. It might be a Saturday, but she felt the need to look her best anyway. She felt a little as if she was putting on armor. The make-up and clothes were just something to keep others guessing about her. For now, she was content that only Scott would see so deeply into her to realize how much she was hurting. After all, that had been the status quo for the past two months. After a month of moping, Jubilee had forced her to participate in life again, and while she realized it was for her own good, it was also a relief to have someone who knew how much she still mourned the “might have beens.”

Making her way down to the dining room, Rogue felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had no idea what was going to happen in the coming months, but she knew that she felt ready to finally shoulder life again. It was as if the previous night had been a catharsis for the part of her that seemed to constantly ache—her heart. Now, more than ever, she was able to look at life and figure out what she wanted from it.

'Ro was the only one sitting at what was affectionately dubbed the X-Table. Rogue grabbed randomly from the buffet and walked hesitantly toward the table. She sat across from 'Ro and just looked at her. Finally 'Ro looked up and met her eyes, her eyebrows arching up.

“Is something wrong, Rogue?” she asked softly.

“You're not mad.” It was a statement, not a question. She could tell that 'Ro was watching her carefully, so she took a bit of the cereal she'd chosen, realizing with a little surprise that she was eating bran flakes. Yuck. She hated those, especially if there were no raisins to sweeten the stuff.

'Ro shook her head. “No, I'm not angry with you, Rogue, or with Scott. You've both been in pain for months, and you deserved a break from reality. If that's all it turns out to be, I will be happy for you, and if it becomes more, I will be even happier.”

Rogue decided to ignore that last part as it threatened to send anxious flutters through her stomach. She looked down at that damn bowl of flakes. “But you're Jean's best friend,” she protested weakly.

“Yes, Jean is my best friend, but that doesn't mean I'm blind. What she and Logan did...there was just no excuse for it. Then they left, and you and Scott were hurting so much. I just...just want you two to heal. And you seem to heal better when you're helping each other. So I can accept whatever it takes to get my two friends feeling better.” 'Ro's voice was gentle, and the sincerity in it had Rogue looking back up.

“Thanks, 'Ro,” she said. They continued their breakfast in silence. 'Ro was standing up to leave and Rogue about halfway through with her own food when Scott entered, looking like his usual well-groomed self. Rogue grinned a little to herself when she thought about the contrast between the man she had left and the one who appeared before her now. Scott caught her eye and smiled back, causing the few students in the room to glance back and forth between them, eyes full of questions. Rogue wondered just how obvious they was being, and then she decided that she didn't care. She'd had enough angst to last a lifetime. It was time to enjoy just being content.

Scott slid into the seat next to Rogue as she forced herself to finish the bran flakes, which she'd been saving for last. She smiled at him, suddenly feeling a little unsure now that they were so close without being in bed. He smiled back and looked down at his plate. Her eyes followed his and widened.

“Man, Scott, are you trying to eat the Professor out of house and home?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nope. I just have an appetite this morning,” he said. She blushed, sure that he had just winked at her behind the red lenses of his glasses.

“I wonder why,” Rogue drawled, forcing herself to relax. His hand found hers under the table and squeezed briefly. They continued eating in comfortable silence.

Scott looked up when Rogue rose, admiring the graceful way she moved. “I'll see you later,” he said.

“Later, hon,” she replied, absently laying a hand on his shoulder. They'd started exchanging little touches like that weeks before for comfort, and she saw no reason to stop now.

He laid a hand over hers for a moment, then they parted. The morning passed quickly for them both as they graded assignments and tests from the previous week. Scott had taken on Jean's science classes when she left in addition to his own government and history classes, and Rogue taught art part time while taking online classes. She had decided to do that instead of going off to college in the fall because she knew that the School needed her, and she needed the familiar surroundings. Now, after a few months, it was routine.

The next time Rogue saw Scott was in the training room. The team, consisting of her, Scott, 'Ro, Dr. Hank McCoy, Bobby, Jubilee and Kitty now, broke up into sparring partners, senior members against junior. Rogue and Scott, as the most advanced of either age group, in terms of technique, paired off and had fun beating each other up. It was a typical day for the team, and as usual no one mentioned the two missing members. They had even been gone long enough that no one turned to ask one of them a question, and only 'Ro looked sad for a moment at the end of the hour.

The group was just breaking up, the permanent residents leaving to go to their own rooms and shower while the visitors headed to the locker rooms, when the Professor's voice rang in their heads.

*We have a situation. Please come to my study.*

Three Months Earlier

When Rogue, Jubilee, and Kitty got back to the mansion, she was already wearing some of her new clothes, and she knew she was turning heads. Of course, who wouldn't turn heads in knee-high leather stiletto boots, black tights, a short black skirt, black cami and a sheer gold-shot black blouse? Well, maybe some people, but definitely not her. She looked hot, and she knew it. That knowledge was there in the way she returned the smiles of some of the guys still hanging around the mansion, many who called out compliments on her new hair style—but she knew what they meant. They were referring to the whole package.

To Rogue's disappointment, though, she didn't see Logan that night. She finally decided that he must have headed off to some bar. It was frustrating, but she decided that she could handle it. So she spent the evening putting away her new clothing and deciding what to wear the next day. She had a campaign in mind, and so she planned the next stages carefully. Her current outfit was meant as a shock to the system, one she'd hoped to deliver that night, but now that she thought about it, maybe it would be better to gradually introduce Logan to the new Rogue. Well, maybe not too gradually, though.

Logan had declared that the junior X-Men team members would start a rigorous exercise and training schedule as of Monday morning, bright and early, to continue until their fall college classes started, after which they would be expected to maintain a certain level of physical fitness and readiness. Seeing as it was Sunday night, Rogue decided that would be the first place she would show off a little. Normally she wore sweats and long-sleeved top to work out in and uniforms for training, but there was no mandatory dress code. She was thankful for that now because she knew exactly what she meant to wear, and it all started with that collection of body stockings Jubilee had barely had to talk her into.

So Rogue showed up for the team work out wearing a pair of shorts that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs and a sports bra. Since Kitty and Jubilee were wearing the same, although with less spectacular results since Rogue did have the best curves of the three, no one could say anything about the general outfit. Logan, however, scowled at her and barked something about trying to kill everyone. She simply held out an arm to Jubilee, who touched it with her bare hand, and said, “Body stocking.” Logan had growled but nodded and started the workout session. Since this consisted of an hour of weight training followed by a three mile run, Rogue was very glad that she was not wearing sweats in the ninety degree temperatures of the late August day.

This routine continued for two weeks, and during that time Rogue noticed Logan's eyes wandering up and down her body more than once before snapping away to look at something else. If that didn't tell her that he was noticing her body was a woman's, not a child's, then his actions after “duty” hours would have given her all the hints she needed.

At first it was just the way he watched her when she entered the dining room that Monday evening for dinner. The X-Table was already full, and most of its occupants hadn't seen her new wardrobe, so she blushed a little at the appreciative glances from Bobby and even Hank and Scott for her form-fitting sheer top, cami and skirt look, this time paired with nude hose and slightly demure flats. No need to go for the leather boots all the time, although they were more fun than she would have imagined. Logan's reaction, on the other hand...she noticed how his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

Logan hardly took his eyes off of Rogue throughout the meal, and then when Jubilee mentioned a movie night, he followed the group into the TV room and sat next to her on the long couch. Granted, Kitty was on her other side, but there was something about the way his thigh was pressed against hers, and the way he didn't flinch away from that contact, that made her wonder. Then he started playing with the ends of her hair halfway through the movie, which made her realize that somehow he'd gotten an arm up on the couch behind her without her noticing. She definitely noticed how close his fingers came to her skin, though, and concentrated harder on her focus and attempts to control, just in case, than she did on the movie. In all honesty, she couldn't even remember what they were watching by the end of the night.

As the group ascended the stairs to their rooms, Rogue noticed that Logan was once more following her closely. She wondered about it, about what that closeness might mean, but he made no attempt to stop her entering her room and closing her door, and for some reason she was grateful.

After that night, Rogue noticed that sometimes Logan's hand would brush her arm when it didn't really need to. Once she felt the heavy weight of his hand on her backside when he corrected her position in a fighting stance, and she swore he left it there longer than strictly necessary. She had shivered, and he had moved away, so she couldn't be completely certain. There were other indications that he was beginning to see her as a woman, and that thought thrilled her. He'd dropped the “kid” when speaking to her, using either Marie in private or “darlin'” in public, deliberately teasing her. If he was expecting her to blush and back down, he was in for a surprise. She countered his new pet phrase with “'sugar,” and he seemed content to let her.

That was why the event that occurred at the end of those two weeks completely shocked the hell out of her, reducing her to tears and bitter rage.

---

Logan felt like a man hounded by his own thoughts, his own body. There was no way he should be thinking the things he was about Marie, the little girl he'd brought to the School two years prior, legal age of consent now or not. She was too young, too innocently curious to be able to match what he was. That is what he told himself, and he repeated it to himself every time his treacherous eyes roamed those lush curves that were no longer swathed in too many layers, every time he found his hands wandering where they shouldn't or said things to make her blush because that flush of red in her cheeks made her even more beautiful. It was all right for her to be beautiful, but he wasn't supposed to think about sex around her, dammit! Only he found himself doing that more and more often.

So when he wasn't flirting with Rogue against his better judgment, Logan threw himself into flirting with Jean. He argued with himself over that one, too, but at least she was a mature adult, not a young woman testing her wings and scaring the hell out of him in the process. She knew where she stood on her own sexuality, and that's what he told himself he needed. For two weeks he did his best to ignore the scents of Rogue's arousal and focus on the arousal he knew he was creating in Jean.

It was a small fight that pushed flirting over the edge, apparently. He heard about it from her later. All that he knew was that suddenly Jean and Scott were barely talking, and he would go to bed early while she stayed in her office in the lab until the small hours of the morning. That was when Logan decided to see how far he could press his advantage, and that was when Jean decided to let him. For two days he visited her in her office late enough that all the other occupants of the mansion were asleep, or should have been, and teased her, made her want him more and more, opened her eyes to the possibilities that could exist between them while he ignored the possibilities that hardly seemed possible with the other woman in his life. Three days into his fourth week back at the only place he really thought of as a potential home, Logan found himself having wild sex with Jean on the floor of her office, and they didn't stop there. After an hour of recuperation, they headed up to the kitchen for a snack and ended up on the tile floor, the few clothes they had thrown on pushed out of the way so that they could have full access to each other again.

Just as Logan was emptying himself into Jean for a second time, reveling in the sheer physical release and the way it blocked all those thoughts he really shouldn't be having—well, most of them—he looked up. There, in the doorway to the main hall, stood Rogue. She was dressed in a little black night gown and robe set that barely came to mid-thigh, with no gloves covering her hands, and the look in her eyes was a mixture of horror, revulsion, and heartbreak that quickly turned to a bleak fury. Logan just froze, causing Jean, coming down from her own orgasm, to look over at the doorway as well.

---

That day had been a particularly good one for Rogue. She had woken up with the fierce need to meditate before training, their last one before classes would interrupt their intense schedule. Practices with the Professor had been sporadic due to his recent trip to Washington D.C., but she was more determined than ever to figure out how to switch off her mutation, how to control it. So she performed her breathing exercises, closed her eyes, and began the search within herself the way the Professor had taught her.

Rogue hadn't been expecting to find her switch then, although she knew she wanted to, so when it suddenly became clear to her in the calm of her mind, quiet of all voices for a rare moment, she was shocked. Not that her surprise kept her from quickly grasping that prize, however. Still, while she was pretty sure that she had found it, a small part of her wanted to keep the news quiet. What if she was wrong, after all? There were only a few ways to tell, and none of them were acceptable.

Rogue had opened her eyes and jumped up from she'd been sitting on the floor of her bedroom. She practically flew down the stairs to the Professor's office and knocked, hoping that he was alone. He was, and when she explained what she thought she'd found, he immediately demanded that she touch him. So she had stripped off one glove and held his hand. For five minutes. Then for ten. They just looked in each other's eyes, and Rogue could feel his happiness for her mixing with her own joy in the quiet of the office.

Still, Rogue went to the training session wearing her gloves, uniform carefully zipped to the neck just in case. She wasn't ready to announce anything yet, not when she felt her emotions roiling from the breakthrough from elation to nervousness to sheer sexual frustration to fear. It was the fear that stopped her, that and the knowledge that she could quickly get in over her head, like a drunk, if she wasn't cautious.

The evening was torture in a way, but she clung to her resolve not to say a word to anyone, not even when the Professor raised his eyebrows at her during dinner in a silent question. Her quick head shake told him she wasn't ready, and he had respected her decision.

It didn't really surprise her when sleep refused to come despite her attempts to lull her body into relaxation with a very dull textbook she had just received. Rogue finally gave up and decided that maybe a snack, something solid sitting on her stomach, would help. She didn't bother putting on more than the little robe that went with her nightgown, not even her gloves. After all, it was nearly midnight. No danger of anyone roaming the halls and seeing her without her gloves on, and even if someone did see her, she could easily explain it away and pretend an uneasiness with their nearness to get them to leave her alone. So she slipped out and padded barefoot downstairs.

As she neared the kitchen, she was so lost in thought that she was practically in the doorway before she noticed the noises. It was obvious that someone was having sex in there from the grunts and moans. She flushed and started to back up. That was when she heard the growl.

No. No. Nononononononono...a monotone in her head that threatened to overwhelm her.

There was only one mutant in the mansion who growled like that under any circumstances. Rogue felt herself move to the doorway even though she desperately tried to stop her rebellious feet. The sight that met her eyes hit her like a train wreck, straight in the gut. And like a train wreck, she couldn't wrench her eyes away.

Logan and Jean on the floor, clothes mostly off, legs entwined as he pistoned her relentlessly. Sweat covered their bodies. Her red hair flowed over his hands as he braced himself above her, and then he was groaning and snarling her name. Jean.

Damn. Damndamndamndamn.

At that point the bastard looked up and straight into Rogue's eyes. He stilled right in the middle of what she knew was his orgasm. She didn't care then that he would see her without gloves, with very little cloth covering her “deadly” skin at all. As she saw the lust in his eyes, the moment when he didn't even recognize her, Rogue felt as if something were swelling within her. It might have been hurt, it might have been anger, but it seemed like much more than that, and what it triggered...if she had still felt sane she might have shuddered.

Instead, she let out a hate-filled shriek and raised a hand, letting an awareness that she thought long since gone flood her. Logan flew backwards, off of Jean and plastered against the far wall. Jean stared at Rogue disbelievingly as Logan tried to move. His eyes had widened with his own horror, but Rogue no longer cared.

“You motherfucking asshole!” she shouted, exalting in the volume that she knew would bring half the mansion downstairs in bare minutes. Bare. Ha. “You are filth, Wolverine! You and that whore on the ground had better not die any time soon, because Heaven won't have you, and Hell decided it's too good for the likes of you!” She felt tears sliding down her face, but they barely registered in her rage.

Jean raised her own hand, and Rogue was pushed back, out of the doorway. She didn't let that break her grip on the metal, though. Nothing could do that, Rogue swore to herself as she held Logan in place and just cried while she heard the sound of multiple feet rushing down the wooden stairs.

Scott was the first to reach her, and at first he only saw the young woman on the floor, bare hand stretched out. She wasn't pointing, but he found himself looking into the kitchen anyway. What he saw there made him shake with something more of hurt than anger. Logan, mostly naked and pinned to the wall by an unseen force. Jean, also naked but trying to rearrange her clothes, hair mussed and looking the way he knew she looked when she'd just had really great sex. It made Scott feel physically ill, and he couldn't force himself to look at it any longer. Instead, he turned back to Rogue.

She knew he was kneeling beside her. Rogue felt his hand stretched out toward her, felt it connect with the silk sleeve of her robe. It was as if that touch was the catalyst for her complete breakdown. She dropped her hand at the same time she lost her connection with the metal. Heedless of her skin, knowing it couldn't damage him just then, Rogue threw herself into Scott's arms, deep and wrenching sobs seeming to consume her.

Despite the shock of seeing what was obviously interrupted sex between Jean and Logan, Scott was able to register even more surprise when he felt Rogue's face buried into his neck and—nothing happened. There was no pull, not the way he'd heard it described, just soft, smooth skin and tears. So he cradled her as he looked at the lovers in the kitchen, barely registering the bodies now crowded around the doorway. Logan was staring in obvious amazement at Rogue's skin pressed to Scott's even as he scrambled to pull up his pants and find his shirt, and Jean looked as if she was feeling a mixture of embarrassment at being caught having illicit sex and...jealousy? Scott wondered bitterly why she would be feeling that, even if he was holding another woman in his arms, after what he could see she had been doing.

The Professor was the last of the adults to arrive at the scene, and he firmly ordered the children at the edge of the crowd back up to bed. The X-Men parted to let him through to where Scott and Rogue were still on the floor, tears falling unchecked down both faces. One glance in the kitchen told him all he needed to know.

“Take Rogue upstairs, Scott. I will handle this,” he told the man he considered one of his shining successes. “Don't be afraid of her skin. She should be able to control it, at least long enough for you to get her into bed.”

Scott nodded mechanically as he stood and scooped up Rogue's heaving body. She curled into him, seeking refuge from the truth that had been forced onto her, into her brain, seared there forever as if with a laser. They were almost to the stairs when the Professor, still staring at the debacle in the kitchen, called back, “Oh, and Scott, stay with her, please. I think it will help you both.”

Again Scott nodded as he slowly climbed the stairs.

Rogue entered the Professor's office with her teammates and chose a seat on one of the couches along the wall near his desk. Scott stood next to her, hands in his pockets, and something in his stance made Rogue think he had also picked up on the slightly hesitant tone of Professor Xavier's mental call. Something about this situation must be delicate for the Professor to sound like that.

Once everyone was seated, Xavier moved his wheelchair around his desk so that he was sitting among them. While was was not entirely unusual, Rogue detected something in his manner that suggested he felt that they were going to need the moral support often found in the sense of “family” that they all shared. She felt her stomach muscles clench painfully and concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly. She had a feeling she was going to need every scrap of calm she could muster.

“I have received information on a mutant holding facility and experimental laboratory located near Las Vegas. My informants believe that the facility is being guarded by a mixture of paramilitary units and mutants either controlled or hired by them. They appear to have between ten and fifteen mutant victims currently in holding. None of the captives appears to be in danger of dying, but I do not want to take too long on the planning. I have called Piotr in from Boston and John from New York City. Piotr is available for pick up whenever we need him, and John is willing to handle security here for a couple of days. We should have specifics on the layout of the facility within the hour.” The Professor paused. Up until that this had been the normal pre-mission sort of briefing, so Rogue had begun to relax. That pause had her hackles up again, especially when Xavier looked down for a moment and then straight at Scott.

“The informants would like a chance to help out on this one. A young friend of theirs was grabbed by this group a few days ago. That is how they found the facility,” he said calmly.

Rogue felt more than saw Scott stiffen. “We can't afford to have untrained--” he began.

“They are not untrained,” Xavier interrupted, a rare move for him.

Just like that, Rogue knew. She felt the blood drain from her face, her lips tightening. Instinctively she looked at Scott. He knew, too. She could tell by the way he folded his arms suddenly, fists clenched. If anything, his face was paler than hers felt. Scanning the room, Rogue saw when the others picked up on it as they began to scowl or fidget as their individual personalities called for. Only 'Ro gazed back at her serenely, and Rogue took strange comfort in her unruffled demeanor. It helped her return her attention to the Professor, whom she was sure was testing the mental climate of the room.

“Jean and Logan have been staying at a ranch I own north of Las Vegas. One of the hired hands there was the mutant who was captured. They want to help rescue him,” Xavier said, then he took a deep breath. “I believe we should let them.”

When most of the team burst into protests, the Professor let them go for a few moments, a sad and tired expression on his face. Only Scott, Rogue and 'Ro were silent, although their teammates were certainly doing their best to make up for them in the volume department. Xavier finally stopped them after Bobby made the comment, “Why should we work with someone we don't trust!”

“Jean and Logan may have made personal choices we do not approve of, but their professional abilities are still some of the best in their respective fields,” Xavier cut in sternly, quelling the protesters with a look. He turned back to Scott. “According to Logan, there are two shifts of twenty fighters, not to mention ten scientists and administrative personnel. A good third of the fighters are mutants, as well. So the team would be going in outnumbered anyway, and if they manage to get a call out for reinforcements...” He let them consider that for a moment. “You're going to need all the help you can get.”

The room was silent as Scott considered that. Rogue twisted her fingers together tightly, still concentrating on her breathing. In and out, nice and slow.

“All right,” Scott finally conceded, his voice harsh. “But they'll be working with Storm, Beast and Collosus. I'll take Rogue, Jubilee, Shadowcat and Iceman.” Scott always used their code names when referring to anything mission-oriented. “Storm's team will handle the military while we get in, rescue those we can, and torch the place on the way out.” It was probably one of his simplest plans yet, which meant he was still too angry at the necessity of including Logan and Jean to come up with all sorts of elaborate “fixes” they might not ever need.

Rogue let out a deep sigh of relief when she heard the team divided up that way. There were some grumbles, but since 'Ro and Hank accepted the need gracefully, they all settled down fairly quickly. After the Professor assured them that he would give Logan and Jean an estimated time of arrival once they took off, the team headed down to the sub levels. It looked like quick showers and uniforms were the new order of the day.

Scott caught Rogue's arm just before she followed the other women into their locker room.

“How are you holding up?” he asked gently once they were alone in the hall.

Rogue looked up at him. “Ah don't know. Ah guess...Ah didn't let myself think about facing them again, especially not so soon,” she replied uncertainly.

Scott wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into him, resting her cheek on his chest. “I didn't expect it either, but we can make it through this. I'll be right there for you, Rogue,” he told her.

Rogue tipped her head back so that her eyes met his shrouded ones. Her dark brown eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Marie,” she whispered. When he frowned, she said more firmly, “My name is Marie.”

She reached up to frame his face with her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Ah know you'll be there for me, just like Ah will be for you,” she murmured against his lips as his arms tightened around her. Their kiss deepened, becoming more heated.

“Hey, Rogue, you com—Oh!” Jubilee stood in the doorway to the locker room, eyes so wide it was possible they might fall out.

Rogue pulled away slowly as Scott's arms dropped. “Don't forget what I said,” he told her with a slight smile.

“Ah won't,” Rogue replied softly as she allowed Jubilee to drag her into the area where the other two women were already undressed and about to go to the showers.

“Oh, my God, Rogue!” Jubilee cried, hands on her hips. “When did you and Scott get together?”

Kitty froze in her tracks while 'Ro continued on, then she turned around to stare.

Rogue blushed as she began to remove her clothes. “It's not like that, Jubes. We're just friends...” she protested.

“Yeah, with benefits, from what I saw!” Jubilee stated, grinning as she stripped.

Rogue shook her head. “Not really...well, there was last night, but...we haven't really talked about it. It's just...comfort. Honest!” she said as she grabbed a towel and her shower caddy out of her locker.

Jubilee and Kitty stared at her some more, their mouths hanging open. “Last night?” Kitty squeaked.

“Yeah, but look, we're really just friends. C'mon, we'd better get ready,” Rogue muttered as she hurried into a shower stall. Behind her, Jubilee whispered loudly to Kitty, “I need a friend like that!”

Rogue let the hot water wash away her embarrassment as she quickly showered, careful not to get her hair wet. After all, she was nineteen now. She was entitled to a sexual relationship if she wanted one, even if her choice was a friend instead of a man she was in love with. After all, she cared about Scott. The affection they shared was more than enough for her battered heart. She didn't want anything more, she told herself firmly.

Rogue shut off the water and briskly toweled her skin dry. She wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out into minor chaos. The four women dressed as quickly as possible, underwear, leather uniforms, hair secured back into utilitarian ponytails if it was long enough. Rogue was thankful for her short style as she ran a brush through it and admired her new uniform in the mirror. Similar to her old one, this one was sleeveless, and it fit her even better than the previous one, although it wasn't so tight she couldn't fight in it. Since they were the first done, she and Jubilee, whose hair was even shorter than hers, left to grab the packs of protein bars and water that would have to be their dinner. Jubilee was mercifully silent, which was unusual for her, but Rogue caught her wicked grin once or twice and knew that her friend wasn't in the least upset about what she had seen. Rogue grinned back a little smugly despite the cold lump her stomach had become.

Both young women quit smiling once they reached the Blackbird. The mood that descended over the group was decidedly grim. They boarded the jet and settled into their seats. Rogue sat behind Scott and stared at the back of his head for a few minutes after take-off before she decided that the best way to pass the flight would be to sleep. It seemed like everyone except Scott and 'Ro, pilot and copilot, had the same idea. Rogue drifted off into a doze even as a chorus of soft snores and grunts reached her ears. She slipped into a deeper sleep and didn't even wake up for the short landing to pick up Piotr, a sophomore at Harvard now.

“All right, people, we're almost there,” Scott said loudly.

They woke and stretched with groans, then food and water were passed around as a strained silence descended. Even Piotr, who had only heard about the incident with Logan and Jean second-hand, seemed to pick up the tension.

Scott landed the Blackbird in what looked like a pasture and lowered the hatch. They waited on board until two sets of footsteps, one heavy and one light, echoed on the metal ramp. Rogue was tempted to snap the thing up prematurely, but she refrained despite the hum of metal she felt in her veins. She kept her eyes on the windshield instead, trying to admire the sunset. She practiced her deep breathing again, and it almost helped. Almost.

Of them all, only 'Ro murmured a greeting as the hatch closed. Rogue heard rustling as Logan and Jean settled, and then they were off again. She thought she heard Logan mutter something about a “warm welcome,” and it took all her strength to grip the armrests and keep her mouth shut on the screaming profanity she wanted to spew at them. She was pretty sure she even managed to lock it down inside her head as well. Thus she continued the silent treatment she had started the morning after she discovered them in the kitchen.

Three Months Earlier: The Morning After

Rogue woke to a headache from her crying binge, her hair plastered to her cheeks. She was in her bed, the blankets tucked securely around her. At first she hoped what she remembered was a nightmare, but then she knew she'd only be lying to herself if she believed that. It was all too real. She flipped from one side to the other, now looking out into her room. To her surprise, Scott was asleep in the chair by her small fireplace, one of her extra blankets wrapped around his shoulders.

“Scott?” Rogue called softly.

He must not have been very deeply asleep because he lifted his head almost immediately. He turned eyes hidden by red lenses towards her. “Morning, Rogue,” he muttered hoarsely.

“Scott, why are you in my room?” she asked, latching on to the first question that popped into her mind that wasn't related to Logan or Jean. Or so she thought, anyway.

Scott's lips twisted into something that in no way resembled a smile. “The Professor asked me to look out for you last night. I think he had the idea that one of us couldn't destroy the mansion if we were watching each other.”

Rogue echoed his not-smile. “Ah'm not sure that's going to work,” she answered, the bitterness in her voice a equal to his. “Ah'm still feeling plenty destructive right now.”

“Me, too.” But there was no heat in Scott's voice, only weary resentment. His head fell back against the chair.

The two were silent for a few minutes. Then Rogue asked in a small voice, “What are we gonna do, Scott?” She thought she was done with tears, that there was no way her body could produce any more, but they were creeping back up.

Scott shook his head. “Survive, I guess. Heartbreak's not fatal, so they say.”

Rogue sighed. “They have no idea what they're talking about,” she informed him.

Into the quiet that fell came a mental voice echoing in their heads. *Scott, Rogue, would you please join me in my office?*

*Now, Professor?* Rogue tried to project, along with her desire for a shower.

*When you're ready, but soon,* came the reply before his presence left their minds.

“Ah don't want to be ready for anything today,” Rogue said quietly as she forced her legs to swing over the side of the bed.

“Yeah, me either,” Scott said as he eyed her bare arms and legs. He gestured to them and asked, “So, when did that happen?”

Rogue flushed. “Yesterday. Ah wanted a little time to get used to it,” she confessed.

“And the metal thing?” he asked, wiggling his fingers a little. “Not that I was complaining.”

Rogue matched his dark look with her own. “That was new but entirely welcome at the time,” she said dryly, forcing back the tears that threatened again at that horrible image.

Scott stood up. “I'll let you get dressed,” he said, walking to her door.

“Scott?” He turned. “Do you want to use my shower? After I'm done, I mean,” she stumbled a little over that and blushed.

Scott shook his head. “Thanks, but I'll just go down to the locker room. I always leave a few changes of clothes down there anyway,” he said. She nodded as he left.

An hour later, Rogue headed down to the Professor's office. In a sudden spirit of anger and defiance, she had decided that a show of skin was necessary, so she wore a self-supporting red tank-top, denim shorts that skimmed the top of her thighs, and sandals that she'd once borrowed from Kitty, strappy things that could be worn with tights. She hadn't bothered with that, of course. Inch upon inch of potentially lethal skin was laid bare, begging to be touched. However, she had plans if a certain someone tried. Her hair hugged her jaw in a straight slash, and the requisite war paint to hide the ravages of crying had been applied. Rogue saw the wide eyes as she passed by, although few flinched away. She vaguely recalled touching Scott skin to skin the previous night. The story must have gone the usual rounds. Good. She hoped viciously that it had, in every sordid detail.

The sight that met her when she reached the hall outside the Professor's office caused her eyes to narrow dangerously. Logan, hollow-eyed and leaning against one wall, arms crossed. Scott, leaning against the opposite wall, well dressed as usual but with a haggard face and a look of hatred that didn't require one to see his eyes as he stared at the man across from him. Jean, further down the hall, stiff and silent, still wearing the clothes they had been found in, dark circles under her eyes as she stared at Rogue, who never broke her stride as she made her way to Scott's side.

Rogue spoke only to the man next to her when she said, “Well, isn't this as pleasant as a pit full of cobras.” She laid her bare hand on his for a moment, squeezed for support when he didn't flinch from her touch, then removed her hand and examined the blood red nails that matched her top and her lipstick as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You're telling me,” Scott murmured back just as the Professor's door opened.

“Please come in,” 'Ro said quietly.

Professor Xavier and Hank were the only other occupants, Rogue noted as she followed Scott inside. She barely noticed 'Ro shutting the door behind Logan and Jean. Scott chose a single chair when Xavier asked them to sit. Rogue took the one next to him. She ignored the two who sat across from them.

“We have a problem, I believe. I would like to find a way to resolve this as amicably as possible. Given the emotions involved in this, however, I don't believe it wise to allow you to sort this out on your own,” the Professor said, his voice holding the hint of a command.

Rogue looked at him and raised her eyebrows. It took effort to use both, but she did it. No more single eyebrow raises for her. “Surely you're joking, Professor,” she hissed. “Amicable settlements are the very furthest thing from my mind right now.” As I'm sure you know, Charles.

Before Xavier could reply, Scott chimed in, “There really can't be a solution to this that will please all the parties, Professor.” His voice also held that hint of command, learned so well from his mentor. Rogue glanced at him approvingly. Good. They were together on this one. She felt better having an ally.

“What other course do we have, Rogue? Scott?” Professor Xavier asked, glancing at Logan and Jean while the others studiously ignored them. He noted that but did not comment.

“That's easy, Professor. If either of those two stay under this roof, Ah am gone,” Rogue replied as calmly as she could, calling on the Erik in her head to give her tone the ring of steele.

“What?!” That was Jean. Rogue paid her no attention.

“Are you serious about that, Rogue?” the Professor asked, pain in his eyes.

Rogue nodded. “Ah will not live with or fight beside those I cannot trust. I have more reason than most to need that, you know,” she replied.

That was when Scott surprised her. “I'm with Rogue.” That was all he said, but the pain and anger in his voice was enough to make Rogue want to start crying again. She ruthlessly suppressed that, promising herself another good cry later.

Professor Xavier stared at Scott in shock. Perhaps Scott hadn't been thinking about it until Rogue put the idea into words, but now they all knew the younger man was determined not to be under the same roof as the man and woman who betrayed him. Xavier lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Rogue knew he was thinking something along the lines of 'there has to be another way.'

“It's take it or leave it, Professor,” Rogue said. Then she smiled a cruel smile. “Ah'm sure you'll take the good of your team into consideration when you're finally thinking clearly again. After all, wouldn't you like to know how Ah did what Ah did last night?”

“What you did...” the Professor seemed to be looking at something beyond the room for a moment, then his eyes latched onto hers. “How did you manipulate the metal, Rogue? Did it have something to do with how you control your skin?”

Rogue sighed a little, leaned back into her chair. “I'm really not sure, Charles,” she said, letting a little of that inner Erik creep to the surface again before locking it away—loosely. “Ah'm sure after plenty of study you'll come up with something about emotional breakthroughs or some such nonsense. All Ah know is, Ah can now use every mutation I've absorbed...at least to a small degree. It really does seem to depend on how much Ah've taken.” She stretched out her leg and stared at it thoughtfully. “Ah accidentally cut my leg while shaving this morning, and you know, there's not even a scab. It was a pretty deep cut, too.” There. Let him think that one through. The good of the team...The dangling carrot of totally new facets of her mutation to study...

Professor Xavier shut his eyes again, and the others waited quietly while he debated with himself. This wasn't going quite the way Rogue had pictured it would, but so far it wasn't a complete disaster, either. After all, he only had to choose between his chosen team leader and a girl with limitless possibilities now that she could control her mutation or a bitch of a doctor (whom he already had a replacement for) and her bastard of an animalistic lover. What was there to choose?

What, indeed. When Xavier opened his eyes again, Rogue knew he had made his choice, and she wanted to shout in triumph. Instead, she held herself very still, willing the cold of metal to seep into her blood, her skin.

“Logan, Jean, I'm afraid that I must ask you to leave, for the good of the team,” he said, and Rogue smiled to herself, carefully not letting that show. “Scott, Rogue, you may go now. I have the answer I needed from you,” he added.

Rogue didn't need to be told twice. She stood and looked down at Scott. He was staring at his hands where they were clasped in front of him. A small thread of tenderness eased its way through the cold, and so she gently took one of his hands and drew him to his feet, pulling him after her out the door. They were halfway down the hall when she released the cold, and she just stopped. It felt impossible to move a step further. Her head hanging, she tried to remember how not hurting felt. That had to be impossible, though. She would always hurt now. Always.

Scott's hand at her waist startled her. She looked up, saw his eyes through the red lenses as he stared down at her, and then together they walked up the stairs. She opened her door, and he followed her through. She gave him a light push towards her chair, and when he curled up in it she laid the blanket back over his shaking body. Then she found her own bed and burrowed back under the covers. They cried themselves to sleep together, the only sound in the room that of soft gasps for air into throats sore from swallowing tears. They were done with being brave for a little while.

And when they finally emerged from her room two days later at the encouragement of friends who had brought food to sustain them and occasionally offered shoulders to lean on, Logan and Jean were long gone.

---

Logan tried not to stare resentfully at the woman beside him. He focused on the road before them, the vibrations as tires flew across asphalt. She wasn't any more at fault than he was. They had both managed to fuck up the best things they'd had going for them, and for what?

Logan kept seeing Rogue's eyes as she stared vacantly past him. It was like she didn't even see him anymore. Her voice as she demanded that either they leave or she would reverberated in his skull. The feeling of helplessness when she'd pinned him to the wall with the power of her mind alone, and the sure knowledge that he would deserve it if she pulled all the metal from his bones right there as the man whose powers she used had once threatened to do...that would haunt him forever. That, and the look of her face pressed to Scott's neck, her hand holding his.

He could only drive away with Jean, both of them aware that they were poor substitutes for what they were leaving behind.

“The coordinates for the facility are--”

“The Professor already told me. Thank you.”

Jean fell silent when Scott interrupted her. Rogue wanted to applaud his cold, clipped tone, but she settled for a small smirk as she glanced over at Jubilee. Her friend returned the look with an evil little grin of her own. They'd often complained to each other about Jean's know-it-all attitude and Scott's tolerance for it. No more, it seemed.

The short flight to the hills surrounding their target was quiet. Rogue examined her nails, wondering idly if any would break during the coming fight and how quickly she could force them to grow back. That led to thoughts about the other mutations she could use, which made her close her eyes and concentrate on examining the metallic composition of the jet, carefully avoiding the hypnotic buzz of adamantium so near. She had discovered that each metal “felt” different when she was using Erik's abilities. Rogue checked her control of her own mutation last, keeping a steady “touch” on it so that she could turn it on as needed.

Finally they landed. Rogue reflected that Scott was getting much better at that. The hatch opened, and the team streamed out into the twilight. They would wait until full dark to make their move, Rogue knew. She stood at the top of the ramp and glanced back. Scot still sat in the cockpit, staring at nothing. Sighing, Rogue went back to collect him.

She ran a hand over his hair and said, “C'mon. Together, remember?”

Scott's hand caught hers and squeezed tightly. “Yeah, I remember,” he said as he stood up. Still holding her hand, he reached out and brushed a few white strands of hair out of her eyes. Rogue pressed her cheek to his palm for a brief moment before dropping his hand and moving away. They silently left the plane and watched those wandering around the small clearing. Their eyes deliberately skipped over two still forms standing to one side.

---

Logan watched as Rogue and Scott left the Blackbird together. Eyes narrow slits in his hard face, he observed the way they moved, tried to convince himself he was seeing things. Concern for the man next to her, that made sense, maybe even the tenderness too, but...Rogue was rarely completely at ease around others. However, the way she moved with Scott spoke of familiarity, casualness, openness. How the hell had they gotten so close so fast?

“They had a bond, didn't they?” Jean's sulky voice drifted out of the shadows beside him, and from the corner of his eye he could see that she was staring at the couple, too.

Couple! The thought left a sour taste in Logan's mouth, twenty times—no, a hundred times worse than anything he had ever experienced while watching Scott with the red-head now beside him.

They rarely spoke these last few months, and they certainly never touched. Logan couldn't bring himself to do it. The few times Jean had propositioned him, out of loneliness or pain or desperation, all he had been able to see was a pair of big brown eyes, full of tears, pain and anger. He would go into a rage then, tearing out of the house they now shared to wander aimlessly.

He should have left. Logan told himself that over and over again. The road was just as open as it had always been, but it was no longer inviting. What if the Professor called? What if she changed her mind? He told himself he could wait, that he would wait as long as it took. So he was stuck on that ranch with Jean because the Professor had asked them to keep an eye on the area, and if the old man was checking in about mutant activity he might let something slip about Rogue. Not that he had yet, but it might happen.

The sun had barely set when Scott called them all together. Logan and Jean shifted over to the edge of the group.

“The first thing we need to do is get inside their fence and then take one of the sentries out,” Scott said. “But we need him alive.”

“Why alive?” Logan blurted out with a frown.

“We'll get the passcodes from him and use his badge to get in, so he needs to be conscious. Colossus and Shadowcat will take care of that part,” Scott said, managing to answer Logan's question without actually addressing him. Logan felt his knuckles twitch as the Fearless Leader continued. “After we get what we need from him, I will take Rogue, Shadowcat, Iceman and Jubilee into the facility while Storm leads the rest of you in fighting off the guards and clearing the way for our exit.” Scott turned and began walking toward the small cluster of buildings, obviously unwilling to take any hints, questions, complaints.

Logan glared at his back, forced to follow this man through his own insistence. He began deeply regretting that when he saw how closely Rogue followed Scott, her pale shoulders gleaming in the moonlight. He ignored Jean's sardonic look and stalked forward.

They arrived at the back of the facility and looked around. At each corner of the fence surrounding the building was a camera. Logan was wondering how they were going to sneak through, even with Kitty's help, when Rogue raised a hand. He watched in shock as the metal surrounding the lenses of the cameras crumpled. The metal encasing his bones hummed unpleasantly until she dropped her hand. He heard her say, “We probably only have a few minutes until someone notices.”

The group crowded around the fence so that Kitty could phase them through two at a time. Once they were all inside, Kitty and Piotr hunted out a sentry. When they brought him back, dazed and barely conscious as ordered, Logan felt Jean stirring beside him. However, before she could offer her telepathic help, Rogue stepped forward yet again. Logan watched in further shock as she leaned down, her lips next to the man's ear. His enhanced hearing and the still night allowed him to hear her whisper, “What are your passcodes?” At the same instant she brought her hand to his face. When she let go a few seconds later he had passed out, and she was grinning wildly as she snatched the badge off his chest.

“Ah've got 'em, Cyclops!” she said, holding up the plastic rectangle triumphantly. “Basic security measures, with not a retinal scan in sight! Storm, there are ten guards assigned outside, this one included, and ten inside with the prisoners.”

'Ro nodded. “Thank you, Rogue.” She gestured for her team to spread out.

As he moved away, Logan wondered what the girl he thought he knew was becoming.

---

Rogue led the way to the door she knew was both out of sight of any guards and closest to the mutant prisoners. She was glad she'd only gotten a glimpse of the mind she'd absorbed before locking it away as Professor Xavier had taught her. He was a cruel, ruthless man, and she wanted as little to do with his mind as possible. Rogue focused on the task at hand as she badged in and entered the man's code. The door clicked, and when she pulled it open the hallway was blessedly empty. They hurried in, first Scott then Bobby, Jubilee, and Kitty with Rogue bringing up the rear.

They made their way to the first intersection without seeing anyone. Scott looked back at Rogue, who pointed left. Halfway down that hall they ran into trouble—two of them, guards from the looks of them. Scott shot them in the chest with beams of red while Bobby iced over their mouths to keep them from shouting. The mutants moved past the prone bodies and continued down the hall. That was when they started hearing the noises.

Whimpers and whines could be heard first, just about what they had expected. Then came the scream. The first thing that Rogue noticed was that it sounded female. Second, she realized that it was—young. Very young. She wholly approved of the way Scott shot forward, heading toward the sound. His team followed quickly. Rogue made sure her mutation was on as she ran.

The next few minutes were a blur of hits, kicks, and brushes of skin on skin for Rogue. She was so furious that it felt like she was on autopilot as her body followed its training while her mind raged. Enough presence of mind was left that she was able to deflect the bullets and darts being shot at them, thus brining the advantage almost wholly on their side. After what seemed like too short a time, there were no more attackers. Guards in black uniforms and scientists in bloody lab coats littered the floor, however.

Scott when in search of the main power grid for the compound with Jubilee while Kitty, Bobby and Rogue worked on releasing the captive mutants. They ranged in age from eleven—the girl who had screamed, now with blood running down one side of her head while her skin rippled from one color to another—through upper thirties. All of the victims were weak and drugged, and one was very pregnant. Rogue truly hoped that was something she'd chosen before her capture, but she had her doubts.

They were herding, and half-carrying in some cases, the rescued mutants to the door they had come in through when the lights went out and the emergency lights flickered on. Scott and Jubilee caught up with them shortly after, and then they were at the door. Scott and Bobby went first with the weakest mutants, while the others followed close behind. Rogue was the last one out the door. She noticed the other half of the team fighting their way back around the building, several obvious mutants in hot pursuit but apparently not faring too well.

That was the last thing she saw before a hand shot out and grabbed her, choking off her scream.

“Well, little bitch, you think you're getting away so easily?” The woman holding Rogue by the throat was strangely emotionless as she watched the young woman struggle against her grip. She was a tall blond, her fingers like a vise as she cut off Rogue's air supply. Her green eyes were cold and, like her voice, devoid of emotion.

Rogue turned on her mutation quickly and would have sighed in relief if there was enough oxygen in her lungs or any way of pushing it out. As the veins of the blond's face turned black, Rogue felt the older woman's energy—and her mutation—pouring into her. However, at the same time oxygen deprivation was causing her vision to go dark, and nothing her scrambling hands could do was removing the fingers cutting off her windpipe. The last thing she heard was Scott shouting “Rogue!” before being swallowed by black.

---

Logan was taking out the last of the mutant guards, a tricky bastard with a mutation similar to Mystique's but with a focus on animals, when he heard Scott yell.

“Rogue!”

There was enough anguish in the man's tone to cause Logan to quickly slice up his opponent and turn.

Rogue was on the ground, a blond woman collapsed beside her, hand around the smaller woman's throat. The blond was convulsing, and her visible skin—there was a lot of it—was wrapped in thick black veins as Rogue's mutation worked its poison on her. Scott ran over to them and tried to pull Rogue away, but the other woman's hand stayed wrapped around her throat.

“Her mutation is still on! Bobby!” It said something that Scott wasn't using Popsicle's codename, but Logan didn't want to dwell on that. Instead, he joined the others in rushing over and huddling around the fallen women. His eyes followed Bobby's iced hand as he worked to pry the fingers away from Rogue's throat. After almost an entire minute, or an eternity if you wanted to look at it that way, he managed to loosen the suddenly limp fingers.

Bobby's hands and face were iced over as he took Rogue away from Scott and laid her on her back. He pumped her chest several times then tilted her chin, pinched her nose, clamped his frozen lips over hers and forced air into her lungs once, twice, three times before he returned to the chest pumping. Just as he was about to start breathing for her again, Rogue choked and gasped.

Scott pulled Rogue back into his arms. Logan watched him press a gloved hand to her cheek, saw him frown when she didn't open her eyes. Logan knew his own frown was closer to a snarl when he heard Scott say, “Marie? C'mon, Marie, wake up, dammit!”

That name hit Logan in the gut like a sledgehammer. As far as he knew, she hadn't told anyone her real name in all the years she'd been at the school—no one except him. Unless that had changed, which he doubted because she was a very private person, that would mean...what? Logan growled but forced his attention back to the scene in front of him as Rogue's eyes shot open. In the glow of the moon's light her eyes were different, the dark brown shot through with green.

“Scott?” The way she said his name made Logan want to howl. It just got worse, too.

“Is your mutation still on, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? “Because I'm going to carry you back to the jet, and that'd be awfully difficult if you drain me before I go one step,” Scott told her gently, open concern in his face as he gathered her closer.

“It's off now,” Rogue muttered hoarsely. “Scott, Ah think...Ah think Ah killed her!” Tears began to stream down her cheeks, and Logan's hand clenched into fists when Scott wiped them away.

“Hush,” Scott told her as he began walking. Logan straggled behind, not wanting to hear yet unable to help it. Stupid enhanced hearing.

“But...but...”

“Really, Marie, you need to quit talking so that you can heal.” There was anxiety as well as amusement in Scott's voice.

Every time he said her name, Logan wanted to rip out his intestines and gag him with them.

“She was...controlled, Scott. Wasn't her fault,” Rogue mumbled. Logan watched her hand creep up over Scott's shoulder to latch around his neck.

Logan tried to focus on the mutants they had rescued. The kid from the ranch was helping an adult almost twice his size, and it looked like a struggle. So Logan moved to help him, effectively using the small crowd to block out the sight, if not the sound, of the man holding the woman he loved but no longer deserved—if he ever had.

---

Rogue leaned her head against Scott's chest and closed her eyes. It felt like her throat was on fire, and her ribs hurt for some reason she was too distracted to think about due to the little problem with her head. In her head. Her name was Carol, and man was she pissed. First those bastards at the lab drugged her to the point where she was just a spectator in her own body, and now this—this girl, this little fucking girl so green she was still wet behind her ears sucked her out of that body altogether! It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! The blood in Rogue's temples pulsed to the beat of that as Carol screamed in her mind.

No matter how hard Rogue tried to push Carol's mind away, lock it up tight like the others, she found herself making very little progress. The older woman's mind was so strong; that was how she knew Carol was dead. None of her little echoes had ever had quite this flavor, this richness, not even Logan whom she had touched twice with her mutation. It was increasingly difficult to tell where Marie/Rogue ended and Carol began. So intense was her concentration that Rogue barely felt it when Scott deposited her in one of the fold-down hammock beds along the back wall of the Blackbird's interior. She did not see the worried eyes of her friends on her as she laid there, strapped in and fighting a battle for her own mind.

An unknown amount of time later, Rogue opened her eyes. Carol was safely caged—for the moment. Rogue could feel her fighting, but it was slightly weaker than before.

The first person Rogue saw was Hank. He was standing over her with a syringe in one hand, frowning as he looked at her arm. When he noticed that she was awake, he smiled at her reassuringly. “How are you feeling, Rogue?” he asked her quietly.

“Like Ah was just strangled by a mutant with super-strength,” she told him honestly. Then she nodded at the syringe. “And invulnerability.”

Hank's eyes lit up. “Ah! I was curious about that. The needle would not pierce your skin,” he told her.

Rogue nodded carefully. “Yeah. Nothing ever will again, I think,” she said. Just as she was about to ask for aspirin, she remembered that she didn't need to. Eyes closed again, she concentrated on tapping into Logan's mutation even as she tried to keep the part of his mind inside of her own from reaching hers. Erik's mind she could handle because he didn't have any emotional pull on her, especially after a few years. Logan, on the other hand...So she slowly felt herself heal, much more slowly than she knew he would have, until she heard Hank's indrawn breath. Rogue opened her eyes again and looked at him with a curious lift of her eyebrows.

“Watching you use that part of your mutation fascinates me, my dear. Did you know the bruising around your neck has disappeared?” Hank asked, smiling at her.

“Yeah, that and the ache in my head and, Ah think, a cracked rib. How the hell did Ah get a cracked rib?” Rogue asked him.

“Young Robert had to perform CPR on you,” Hank told her hesitantly. “You had stopped breathing by the time we were able to pry that woman off of you.”

“Carol,” Rogue whispered. At Hank's look of confusion, Rogue clarified, “Her name was—is--was Carol Danvers. She was in the Air Force until they kicked her out for being a mutant and then kidnapped her before she was able to board a plane home.” She felt sad at that. Carol's family had known about her mutation and loved her anyway...

“Did she have any other powers?” Hank asked as he unbuckled her restraints and helped her to sit up before handing her a bottle of water.

Rogue took a sip, then a gulp, and grinned wearily. “Besides the super-strength and the invulnerability? Well, there's the flying. That will be kind of fun,” she said softly.

“Not to mention useful, at least while you have it in full force,” Hank said.

Rogue fell silent for a moment, her smile disappearing. She played with the seam of her uniform, running a fingertip up and down her thigh. “Ah...Ah don't think it's exactly temporary this time, Hank,” she told him. At his raised eyebrows she continued, “It feels different. Ah can't really explain it except...there's something Ah have to reach for with the mutations that aren't my own. With Carol's...they're just...there. Sorry, but that's the best way Ah can think of to describe it.”

Hank nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are correct, Rogue. I know that we have talked about that as a theory when discussing your mutation,” he said thoughtfully.

Rogue finished off her water bottle and sighed. “Can Ah go find a real seat now, Hank? Ah'm fine, Ah promise.”

Hank chuckled. “If you would like to wade through the sea of mutants, you may find a spot up front, although it is doubtful,” he said, gesturing. Rogue followed his gaze to the mass of bodies draped over every available surface.

Wrinkling her nose a little, she replied, “Never mind. Just help me push this bed back into the wall, please, and Ah'll take the floor. It'll help with meditating to settle things up a little more, anyway.” Rogue tapped the side of her head.

Hank helped her off the bed, and together they strapped it back into place. Then he moved to the front of the jet himself, most likely to report on her status to Scott. Rogue settled cross-legged onto the floor, willing herself not to look up. My, what interesting metal tiles on the floor. Oh, look at the bolts.

He was staring at her. Rogue had been aware of it from the moment she opened her eyes after taking care of Carol, but ignoring the blaze of those hazel eyes had worked pretty well so far, so she'd just stick with that.

Apparently he wouldn't though.

“You okay, kid?”

Rogue wanted to shriek, to scream. Breathe. Take deep breaths, she instructed herself.

“Marie--”

“No!” She spoke to him for the first time in three months, her head snapping up and fire in her eyes. “Rogue. Ah am, and always will be now, Rogue. Don't ever forget that, Wolverine!”

Logan glared back at her. “Oh, so it's fine for One-Eye up there to use it?”

Rogue lifted her chin. “Yes.” She refused to say any more. After glaring at him for a moment, she continued her fascinating visual exploration of the floor in front of her. She could feel his furious stare on the top of her head, however, and the way his eyes raked up and down her body damn near left a physical imprint. Bastard.

“We're going back with you guys, you know,” he commented oh so casually. “The Professor decided he really does need Jean's help with the former prisoners, so since she's going back, he's not going to deny me.”

Rogue felt her hands clench involuntarily. “Good for you,” she ground out, refusing to look at him again. “Just stay out of my way.”

“Should be pretty easy. They're putting us on a team with Storm. You won't have to see us if you don't want to,” Logan told her smugly.

He made it sound as if Rogue would seek him out. As if she was that stupid little teenage girl who followed him around with her heart on her sleeve. Oh, no. She'd grown up. She didn't need him any more. “Sounds like a plan,” was her only reply before she closed her eyes and concentrated on meditation. Or tried to, anyway. The rest of the way home she seethed on the inside as she pretended to meditate, wishing away the man and woman seated on the bench across from her. Too bad Carol's mutation hadn't included something nice and convenient like telekinesis. At least the strength would probably come in handy.

Since she was closest to the hatch when it opened inside the underground hangar, Rogue picked up the two youngest mutants, huddled on the floor beside her, and carried them out. The act was surprisingly easy to Rogue, although Carol smirked from her cage at that thought. Of course it was easy. The eleven- and twelve-year-old girls were featherlight thanks to her new strength.

Stolen strength.

Shut up. Blame that group of lunatics, not me! I never made you attack me!

Yes, ma'am!

Rogue could almost see the salute, felt her right arm wanting to respond. Who knew if she would have, if not for the weight of the sleepy girl on that arm. Rogue shook her head in an attempt to clear it and continued down the ramp. Professor Xavier was waiting at the bottom. Rogue introduced him to the two girls and stepped back without a personal word to the man. From the look he shot her, Rogue knew the Professor had an idea how upset she was, but he was too busy greeting the new arrivals to attempt to talk to her about it. Good. Rogue stood to the side, silently waiting as the rest of the team helped the others out. The Professor asked 'Ro and Kitty to get the younger mutants settled for the night while he showed the adults to guest rooms.

There was an awkward moment when the rest of the team were left in the hangar. Jubilee and Bobby were the first to leave after giving Rogue sympathetic glances. Jubilee's eyes revealed a wicked glint, though, that ruined the sympathy a bit. Piotr followed after them, determined to get a few hours of sleep before catching a flight back to Boston. Hank hesitated for a moment as if unsure if he should leave, but when the silence lengthened he made a quick escape as well.

Then it was just Rogue, Scott, Logan and Jean, each standing stiffly and looking anywhere but at each other. Rogue wondered briefly if the others were insane to have left them in the same room together, unsupervised. She looked to Scott, unsure if they should leave together or separately, before or after Logan and Jean. He was staring at the concrete floor, frowning as he replaced his combat visor with his every day sunglasses. Rogue moved over to him slowly, determined to ignore the other two.

“Scott?” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “It's been a long night. We should get some sleep.”

Scott took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Let's go,” he said.

Rogue stepped back to let him by, and he squeezed her shoulder as he passed. Neither looked at the man and woman they left standing in the cavernous room. Rogue knew they couldn't handle that yet, wondered if they ever would be able to.

---

Logan clenched his jaw tight as he watched Rogue and Scott leave. This just kept getting worse and worse. Somewhere in the back of his mind must have hovered a vague plan to return to the mansion—someday—and use any means necessary to persuade Rogue to forgive him. He had the feeling she needed some time to let her anger cool, though, so he hadn't been in any major rush. He certainly hadn't expected her to get involved with someone else so soon, though, after seeing the depth of pain in her eyes that night in the kitchen. Only three months! He hadn't expected it to be Scott, either.

“Three months can sure change people, can't it, Logan? Especially when they have so much in common,” Jean mocked him humorlessly.

Logan growled a warning at her. “I'm going to be in the Danger Room,” he told her as he stalked off. He didn't even bother to wait for her reply. He just heard it as the doors were about to shut behind him.

“And I guess the medlab is calling my name.”

---

Rogue and Scott were silent in the elevator as it brought them to the third floor, where the adults all lived. She wanted to ask him something, but she wasn't really sure how to start. They walked side by side down the hall until they reached her room. She hesitated, and he turned to face her.

“Are you...do you want to be alone tonight? Well, this morning?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head that she really did find adorable.

Rogue sighed. “Do we want to keep doing this, Scott? Is it going to feel more like some sort of revenge if we do?” she asked, rubbing her arms where the cool air of the hall was chilling them.

Scott stepped towards her, his hands replacing hers. “It didn't start as revenge on my part, and I didn't think it was for you, either,” he told her, and there was a trace of hurt in his voice that she just couldn't stand.

“It wasn't. It still wouldn't be. I just want to make sure we understand that. You're my friend before anything else, Scott, and I don't want to lose that. If that meant stopping what we started last night, I'd be willing to. I care for you too much,” Rogue confessed, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around his waist carefully. Something told her that caution was a wise thing when it came to touching—well, anything, due to her new powers.

Scott's hands rubbed soothingly up and down her back, and Rogue buried her face in the singed leather of his uniform. She had a slightly scary feeling that she could get used to that smell. That it could even be a...turn on. And that thought, combined with the way his hands were starting to do more than just rub her back, caused a rush of unexpected warmth between her legs. Rogue looked up at him, still a little shy about all of this, but his mouth descending on hers quickly got her over any anxiety she might have felt. There was only the sweet heat of his lips, his tongue tangling with hers, and the lines of fire his hands were creating on her body.

They managed to find their way into his room without knocking over more than one hallway decoration—thankfully an unbreakable one—while their mouths and hands relearned the discoveries of their previous encounter. Rogue unzipped his uniform down to the waist so that she could get her hands on the smooth heated skin of his chest. Impatiently, she ran her hands up rippling muscles to the slopes of his shoulders, pushing aside the leather that encased them. Scott returned the favor then took his mouth from hers to trail hot wet kisses down her neck as he nudged aside her uniform. When her breasts were revealed by the dawn light streaming in from his open blinds, he gently cupped them for a moment before leaning down and taking one nipple into his mouth. Rogue felt her knees go weak when his teeth clamped lightly down for a moment, then his tongue swirled around the tip and he had to catch her by the elbows while he proceeded to suck on the sensitive peak. Rogue buried her fingers in his hair and gave herself up to the sensations. She moaned when his mouth left her, then hissed when he simply transferred to her other breast and repeated that glorious treatment.

Somehow they made it to his bed, and Scott was pushing her uniform down over her hips, taking her scrap of silk panties with it, even as the back of her knees hit the mattress. Rogue whimpered when his mouth left her again, and he just smiled as he bent down to remove first one of her boots, then the other so that he could finish pulling her uniform off. His own was shucked as quickly, and then he picked her up and dropped her onto the bed hard enough that the air left her lungs altogether for a moment. And then it stayed gone as his hands caught her ankles, and she glanced down to see him kneeling on the bed between her thighs, looking at her body with that same smile. He ran his hands up her legs, rubbing small circles that just caused little moans to escape, especially when he hit the backs of her knees. His fingers traveled further upward, sending jolts of sensation up the sensitive skin of her thighs, and Rogue grabbed onto the comforter beneath her and held on for all she was worth even as she moved restlessly beneath those seeking hands.

“Please, Scott!” she gasped out.

“In a minute, sweetheart,” he promised her. He held one of her thighs down while his other hand cupped her at the apex of her thighs, and one finger slid tantalizingly up and down her slit. She could feel how wet she already was for him, and that made her moan again in frustration.

“Scott!”

“Patience, Marie,” he murmured as he slowly slipped his finger into her lips, playing with the nub of flesh there for a moment until she let out a little shriek. Then that incredibly agile finger slid into her, rubbing and swirling until Rogue was sure that the world revolved around that sensation. She arched her back.

“Please, Scott, please,” she begged, and then a new wave of heat seared her when she felt him press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. His mouth left a trail of wildfire in its wake as it traced the path of his hand until finally his tongue was replacing his finger, and God it was even better as he sucked on her clit, sending her crashing over the edge, her scream of pleasure echoing throughout the room.

When Rogue was able to think in a semi-coherent manner once again, she looked down to find Scott grinning at her in astonishment. As she floated back down to the bed, he shook his head.

“Well, this could get interesting,” he told her as he moved to cover her body with his own, firmly pressing her into the mattress.

“Oh, yeah,” Rogue said before there was no more thought beyond his mouth on hers, his hands lifting her hips so that he could impale her in one quick thrust. She moaned into his mouth, desperately clutching him to her with arms and legs as she felt an aftershock from her orgasm claim her for a very long moment. Then they were moving together, finding one rhythm for a few minutes before trying a different one, then a nother, hands still exploring contours and curves and sleek, sweaty flesh and muscles until Scott suddenly stopped for a moment, shifted, and then Rogue was on top. She grinned down at him, running her hands up his abdomen and over that muscular chest, murmuring her appreciation of his body even as she began to move on him, hips rocking up and down, going to the point where only the tip of his penis was inside of her before slamming back down as he rose up to meet her. Scott returned her favor from earlier, his fingers skimming her stomach before reaching up to caress her breasts, pinching the nipples playfully so that she moaned long and loud and increased her speed.

Scott levered himself up so that they were supported by his hands braced on the bed, which changed the angle in a way that Rogue definitely liked. It also gave that talented tongue of his better access to her breasts, and he lavished attention on them while managing to keep up with her very busy hips. Rogue could feel herself getting closer to her climax again, though, so she raked a hand through his hair, pulled his mouth away from her chest and slammed her own down on his, moaning against his lips even as she felt that delicious pull, felt the world drop away yet again until she could only lay on his chest, shuddering, while he smoothed his hands down her back, reaching to cup her backside and keep her close. Then he flipped them again so that she was on her back, and she could only stare up at him languidly for a moment while he thrust into her. Her body couldn't help responding again, though, no matter how satisfied, and soon she was clutching at his shoulders, her ankles hooked around the backs of his thighs as he rammed into her over and over. She didn't care anymore about their neighbors hearing her shrieks, her moans and shouts of, “Oh, my GOD!” It felt too good just giving in to the sensations, the sheer sensual power he had over her.

Rogue felt yet another orgasm building, this one must faster than the first two. She ran her hands down Scott's side to grab his buttocks as he had hers, using only some of her strength to help him piston her harder and harder until her back arched yet again, the stars seemed to explode in front of her eyes and all she could do was scream his name.

“Fuck, MARIE!” Scott shouted as he came, feeling her convulsing around him even as his cock throbbed with his own climax, his back as rigid as her own.

It was several minutes before either of them noticed that they were floating. They laughed a little, then Marie slid out from underneath him long enough to grab one of his shirts, pull it on, and lay down next to him, allowing herself the extreme comfort of being wrapped in his arms. She smiled as she felt him press a kiss onto her shoulder before the oblivion of sleep overtook her.

---

Logan got sick of the Danger Room after less than half an hour. He reasoned that it was getting close to morning, anyway, if not already there, so he probably should go to bed. He shut down the simulation he had been using and made his way upstairs. The hallway was quiet at first as he made his way toward his room. However, as he neared the room next to his, the sounds and smells coming from it threatened to overwhelm him. The scents were Rogue's and Scott's, arousal mixed with a quickly dissipating sadness. In fact, by the time he reached Scott's door the smell of their combined arousal was enough to almost literally knock him off his feet, it was so strong.

Then the moans and whimpers registered in his probably-too-thick skull, and he could only stare in horror as he heard something that broke most of the little hope he'd had left.

“Oh, MY GOD! SCOTT!” That was definitely Rogue's voice, and Scott following quickly with, “Fuck, MARIE!”

Logan's claws were out before he knew what he was doing, and he almost broke the door down right then and there. Then despair overtook him, and his claws retracted. He stared at the door a while longer, a broken man, as he heard gentle laughter, rustling, and then nothing more. It was almost more than he could stand to find his own bed, so long unused and smelling a little musty, so that he could fall down onto it and beg for sleep to overtake him.

---

On days after an all-night mission, the kids at the School got a lucky break. Morning classes were canceled, and afternoon classes depended on what state the teachers might be in by then. Not that there were many classes on Sundays, but the occasional training sessions for powers or guided group discussions did occur frequently. Needless to say, any classes scheduled the day after Logan and Jean returned were canceled. Students huddled in corners, whispers were exchanged, and knowing looks cast upon adult after adult as they passed by in the halls. Many of the whispers were about how exhausted Dr. Grey looked or how Mr. Logan looked even more pissed off than normal. One rumor spoke of a death by adamantium in the hallway outside the dining room due to a student having the temerity to say hello. There was a small thread being woven through the tapestry of gossip, however, that focused on the fact that Mr. Summers and Ms. Rogue had been seen going upstairs together early that morning, still dressed in their black leather uniforms and practically touching as they walked. That thread was fed and thickened by the juicy information that moans could be heard by those students lucky enough to have rooms directly under Mr. Summer's's, words shouted in Mr. Summers's voice and in Ms. Rogue's—and not shouts of anger, either! The next, and best, tidbit described how a student trying to find Ms. Munroe some time after lunch caught a glimpse of Ms. Rogue leaving Mr. Summers's room dressed only in a long sleeved shirt that came to just above her knees and a sleepy smile, her leather uniform bunched in one hand and boots in the other. That same student saw Mr. Logan open his door just as Ms. Rogue slipped through hers, and she was so scared by the growl that she forgot all about finding Ms. Munroe and ran back downstairs. Of course, no one really believed those last bits, just as they didn't believe that Logan had killed a student. It was all just gossip, rumor, innuendo.

Except that Rogue did leave Scott's room a little after lunchtime that day. She was carrying her uniform in one hand and her boots in another, and a smile lit her face as she thought about the good-bye Scott had insisted on giving her before he would allow her to go back to her own room. And she tried to ignore the sound of the door opening to her left as she twisted her own doorknob, entered her room and shut the door firmly but quietly behind her. Tried not to feel the eyes burning into her back through Scott's shirt.

It didn't matter, Rogue told herself. What she did was her own damn business, hers and Scott's. Logan knowing about it wasn't going to change anything. It wasn't going to affect her, she instructed herself severely as she showered, as she dressed for the day, dried her hair and applied make-up. What Logan thought or said or did was no concern of hers any more as long as he left her alone. So what if he'd decided to leave his room just as she left Scott's? It was probably just a coincidence. She ignored Carol when she snorted at that. Damn older women and their high and mighty superiority complexes when it came to men. Carol had approved of Scott, though. Rogue thought that was probably a good thing, even if she didn't plan on having the woman so dominant in her head for much longer.

The rest of the day flew by as Rogue helped introduce the students to the new arrivals along with the other X-Men. She sat and talked with the youngest girl, Lynn, the one whose torture they had interrupted. She was a fragile looking thing, wispy blond hair and pale blue eyes that seemed to pierce any falsehood you might try to dish out to her, rejecting platitudes and reassurances. It didn't surprise Rogue to find out she was a telepath. Rogue told her a little about her own mutation, letting her know that she understood all about how difficult it was to hear voices in your head. After a while Lynn announced that the Professor wanted to see her about setting up training sessions, so Rogue smiled and squeezed her hand gently, telling her she'd see her in class in the next day.

Rogue wandered through the garden next and contemplated how unexpectedly easy it was to avoid people when you lived in a mansion. She hadn't seen the Professor all day, although granted he was probably busy dealing with the new mutants, helping them figure out what they wanted to do if they were older and seeing that they were evaluated for educational levels if they were young enough for that. Jean had also been scarce that day. Rogue idly wondered if she had slept in her old office in the med bay. She knew there was a bed in there, just in case. As for Logan...it didn't matter if it was Logan staying out of her way or her staying out of his; either would suit her just fine.

Rogue looked ahead and saw the expanse of the back field behind the School in front of her. That open area and the cold wind pulling at her jeans, her coat, decided her. Looking around surreptitiously to make sure no one saw this first attempt of hers, Rogue began running. After a few steps, she shot into the air and just kept going. It was a wonderful feeling. She hadn't realized it would be so easy. It was easier to move with the air currents, although she also knew she didn't really need to. Rogue climbed higher, enjoying the cold stinging her cheeks, feeling the wind tugging harder at her clothes as she accelerated. When she knew she was high enough, she dove back down, pulling up before she reached the ground to climb even higher. She did corkscrews for the hell of it, pleased at how easily this power was responding to her. Even Carol was quiet, as if she was simply reveling in the feeling and knew it would stop if she gave Rogue a hard time about the ability being a stolen one. Rogue could understand that. Flight was truly a glorious thing.

---

Logan watched the woman flying through the air. He glared at her aerial acrobatics. When he'd first glanced out a window and watched her launch herself into the air, his heart had literally stopped for a moment in fear. It seemed like she figured out pretty quick what she was doing, though, so there was no need to worry about her safety. He could go back to being pissed.

Of course, Logan knew he had no call to be. None at all. Still, the sight of her sneaking out of Scott's room, wearing what had to be his shirt, smelling like her and Scott and sex, had practically driven him insane that afternoon. He had waited until he knew she was in her room before he stomped down to the Danger Room. He was going to be getting really familiar with that program, he told himself as he pummeled imaginary enemies into shapeless hulks of metal or mounds of torn up flesh.

It was in the Danger Room that Logan realized why Rogue had turned so coldly angry the day after finding him with Jean. He felt that anger in his bones, and knowing how it felt drove him that much further into guilt as well. The anger stayed with him after he finally left the sub-levels, showered and was wandering the halls until he came to this window.

“I want no disruptions, Logan,” Xavier said behind him. Logan knew that he knew who he was watching.

“I'll work on it,” was all he was willing to promise.

Xavier rolled up beside him. “Make sure you do that. Once she gets more control, I am going to suggest that she starts helping with combat training. She does very well on her own, and now with her increased strength and her flight capabilities...she will make a formidable opponent.”

The comment wasn't meant to be random, so Logan didn't take it that way. He knew what Xavier was trying to tell him. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

“I'll try and make sure we don't break the building, okay? Just schedule us at different times or something,” he muttered.

Xavier smiled wryly. “That will mean that you have morning classes, then. Since her academic classes are mostly in the morning. I will give her the afternoon slot for combat training classes,” he said.

Logan shrugged, his eyes still on that lithe figure in the air. “Fine.”

---

They settled into a routine. Rogue joined Scott in his bed a few nights a week, both seeking comfort in the arms of a sympathetic friend who just happened to turn them on in many interesting and inventive ways. Meals during the week were always tense although Scott and Rogue would arrive first so that they were almost finished eating before Logan and Jean made it into the dining room. That was the unspoken rule. On the weekends Rogue was always the first one in the dining room, and she would be halfway down the hall to the gym for a work out before Logan came down for food. Next was Jean, and Scott always waited until almost lunchtime to eat his breakfast just to make sure she was gone. Whenever Scott or Rogue would see Logan or Jean in the halls or in one of the common areas, they would ignore them or turn around and leave depending on the situation. Missions, and there were only a few, were strictly divided between the new teams. Rogue sometimes missed 'Ro and Hank when they were out without her, but it just couldn't be helped. 'Ro would always make it up to her by taking her shopping on the weekends with Kitty and Jubilee. Sometimes Rogue felt like she should feel a little sorry for Jean because she was never invited, but that small pinch of remorse was usually over with almost as soon as she would think it. Let the woman rot in the med lab for all she cared.

One thing that Rogue loved the most about the aftermath of that fateful mission was her new powers and the key they seemed to have been for her status as a combat instructor. It helped that she was slowly integrating Carol's memories with her own, which meant she had the advantage of remembering years of military training and drill. In fact, after a few basic lessons she qualified as a pilot on the Blackbird, much to Scott's delight. All in all, her professional life was looking up and her personal life wasn't as bad as she'd been expecting when she heard that Logan and Jean were coming back.

Almost five months had passed since the day that Logan and Jean had betrayed them, and to Rogue it felt as if maybe she and Scott were finally close to putting it all behind them. She'd actually only slept with him once that week, on Friday night. She wasn't sure if it was the mission earlier in the week or her own feelings which had kept her away, but it did still feel good to lie in his arms and forget, for just a while, that her life was royally screwed up in relation to what she had thought she wanted from the time she was sixteen. The next morning was the first morning that she broke the routine, however.

Rogue slept in. She couldn't seem to get up enough energy to do more than pull the covers more tightly over her head and burrow in, content with the feel of Scott warm against her back. So she didn't make it down to breakfast first. She didn't make it to the gym, either. In fact, Scott had to wake her up when he managed to drag himself out of dreamland, and then she told him that she didn't feel very well. Scott put a hand against her forehead to check her temperature, but he said her skin felt fine. Rogue shook her head slightly, afraid of puking on his nice comforter if she moved more firmly. Scott just sighed and helped her to get out of bed, pushed her out his door with orders to shower and head down to the med lab so that Hank could figure out which virus she had caught and give her some medicine. It was early February, after all, and half the mansion was sick with colds and minor infections. Rogue fought down the nausea and agreed.

After a shower she was feeling a little better, but she still called to ask Hank if he had a few minutes for her. She must have sounded miserable because he told her to get down to the lab right away. So she threw on some jeans and a shirt, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail because you could do that when you're sick and get away with it, then went down to the med lab. She really hoped it wasn't anything serious. She had several demonstrations she meant to do in her combat training class on Monday, so she couldn't afford to be sick.

Rogue entered the med lab to find Hank waiting for her at one of the examination tables. She gave him a small smile and gingerly climbed on when he told her to. Her stomach was feeling a bit better after her shower, but there was no point in jarring it unnecessarily.

“Now, Rogue, what symptoms are you experiencing? Please be as exact as possible,” Hank said as he pulled out the blood pressure cuff and indicated that she should roll up her sleeve.

“Ah slept in this morning. Ah know it sounds a little silly, but Ah'm a morning person, really, and the only times Ah ever sleep in are when Ah'm sick. Ah woke up pretty groggy, and my stomach...Ah think I caught a bug or something,” Rogue said as she complied.

“Hmmm...” Hank murmured as the cuff did its work. “Well, your heart rate is up slightly, but that could just be stress from your body working overtime to build up antibodies. Let's check you for fever next.”

The cuff was removed, and then Hank handed her a digital thermometer. Rogue stuck it under her tongue obediently, and they waited for the tell-tale beep. Hank took the plastic stick and read the little LCD screen.

“No fever, which is good. Have you been coughing? Is your throat sore?” Rogue wasn't sure what to make of the cautious expression that came over Hank's face when she shook her head. The furry blue man turned, fiddled with some things on the tray next to the table before finally reaching out to grab an over-sized Q-tip.

“I guess we will have to do a tissue culture since we cannot draw your blood,” he said doubtfully.

Rogue raised her eyebrows. “What's wrong, Hank? Ah know it sucks trying to diagnose me when you can't even take my blood, but...” she trailed off in confusion as his cheeks turned a light shade of purple. Purple?

“Ah, well, Rogue, that is, I am not sure that you have a virus at all. Perhaps food poisoning?” Hank's tone was hopeful, which really worried Rogue.

“Not unless half the school has it, too. Ah ate here last night,” Rogue told him. “Really, Hank, what's wrong?”

Hank took a deep breath. “As your doctor, I suppose that I have some right to ask these questions, but I have found that there are some instances when the friendships we have developed here make this aspect of my job rather...more embarrassing than I am used to,” he confessed. At Rogue's confused look he continued hesitantly, “Rogue, when was the last time you had your period?”

Rogue wanted to laugh. She knew why that question was normally asked. There was no way. “Hank, Ah'm on the Pill. This is just a stomach bug. Ah'll be fine in a few days,” she said, rolling her eyes at him.

Hank gave her a serious look in return. “The Pill is only ninety-eight percent effective, my dear. There have also been some studies which suggest that the effectiveness in mutant women might only be ninety-five percent. That's not conclusive, of course, but...” Hank found that he couldn't continue while still looking into Rogue's wide brown eyes, so he glanced away as he asked again, “When was the last time you had your period?”

Rogue tried to keep her voice light. “Ah had it last week, silly. It was a little lighter than usual, but it was definitely there.”

“How light?”

“Hank!” Rogue really did not want to discuss this with him.

“How light, Rogue?”

“Dammit, Hank! One day, okay? It lasted one day. Usually it's three or four. Ah figured it was just my body adjusting to the new mutation and stress and all that stuff. That can affect it, too,” Rogue said defensively. She did not want to be having this discussion. She did not.

Hank lowered his voice. “You can still have your period a month or two into a pregnancy, Rogue, especially if you are on the Pill. Please let me test you,” he pleaded even as he saw her jaw firm up.

“No, Hank. Ah am going to go back to my room and nurse this stomach bug now, and we are not going to discuss this again,” Rogue said, jumping off of the table and forgetting her fading nausea. Hank watched her leave with a worried frown.

Rogue did spend that day in her room, but the nausea was soon gone. She raided her stash of snacks for lunch and then again for dinner. When she heard a knock at her door and Scott's voice calling, “Marie?” she buried her head in her pillow and prayed for sleep. Miraculously, sleep came almost instantly.

Waking up the next morning, Rogue looked drowsily at the clock then shot up in surprise when it read 11:02. The bright sun shining through her window told her that it wasn't close to midnight. She moaned and shook her head, especially when she felt her stomach lurch. Barely making it to the toilet, she watched her “dinner” from the night before disappear with the swirling waters. The nausea was almost gone when she finally made herself shower, dress, and head down to the dining room. She convinced herself that the bug she had caught was just affecting her appetite when nothing smelled particularly appealing. So she grabbed a pre-made turkey sandwich and some water before settling herself grumpily into a chair. Two bites into the sandwich told her that it wasn't going to work, so she downed the water and stomped out of the dining room, thankful that there were only a few students still in there. Rogue made it back to her room without seeing anyone and feel back into bed. She stared at the ceiling for a while before pulling herself back up and going to her desk. A few minutes and her computer was up and running. She settled down to do some serious searching. Dinner was put off until the last possible minute and consisted of a few bites of cold chicken and vegetables that tasted like rubber.

Monday morning might have brought a repeat of the same if it hadn't been for her alarm clock. Still, the damn thing received four snooze smacks instead of the usual one, and the nausea was bothering Rogue again as she got ready, although thankfully she didn't actually vomit. Dressed in her usual teaching attire, khaki slacks, nice blouse and with her hair pulled back, Rogue decided to try breakfast.

Scott was in the dining room when she entered, so she really couldn't step right back out the way she wanted to. The smells of pancakes and sausage and bacon and eggs all combined to turn her stomach into what felt like a whirlpool. Rogue grabbed toast, an apple and some juice before heading over to the X-Table. 'Ro was there, too, and Rogue smiled tiredly at her friends as she sat down.

“Are you okay, Rogue? We didn't see you all weekend,” 'Ro said. “Scott was forced to hang out with me and Hank!” The weather witch smiled, but concern shadowed her eyes.

“Ah'm fine,” Rogue replied a little gruffly as she nibbled on her toast. Nibbles were good. Big bites probably not so much. “Ah caught something at the end of the week, that's all. Ah'll be right as rain in a day or two, Ah'm sure.”

Scott looked at her closely. “Did you sleep in again this morning?” he asked her quietly.

Rogue blushed. “Yeah, but Ah'm fine. Ah always sleep a lot when Ah'm sick. It's no big deal,” she practically snapped. Feeling guilty for the way his mouth tightened, she laid a hand over his. “Ah'm sorry. Ah get crabby, too. Don't know if the students are gonna make it through the day in one piece,” she tried to joke. He smiled, and she was taking her hand away when she looked up and saw Logan entering the room. He glared toward their table and then went to get some food.

Forgetting her delicate stomach, Rogue polished down the rest of her food in record time, something that she came to regret as she was leaving with Scott. Excusing herself in a tight voice, Rogue barely managed to make it to the closest downstairs bathroom before her breakfast abruptly left her. Head hanging over the toilet, Rogue vowed that this meant nothing. Not one thing! She quickly repaired her make-up in the mirror as best she could then headed to her first class of the morning. The nausea was almost gone by the end of the class, and she pushed the nagging little question from her mind.

Combat training was usually strangely soothing to her, and that day's class began just as many others had. She taught only the older students since she actually had less patience than the School's other instructor, the one whose name she tried not to think about. The class itself actually lasted two hours, so by the end of it they were all usually at least a little winded. Her students were getting pretty good, too. Rogue was proudest of Nate, a seventeen-year-old whose combat abilities were similar to what hers had been before she absorbed Carol. She usually reserved individual sparring time with him for the end of class since their bouts could get pretty intense. Sometimes she would use her strength against him, to show him what it was like to face an opponent like her and force him to think of creative ways to take her down. Other times, like this one, she held back so that she was about the equivalent of him, simply repeating the patterns of movements that felt second nature to her now and soon would for him.

The kick to her chest was unexpected but not against the normal sparring rules for them. The surprise came from how much it hurt. Rogue gasped and stopped, hand up, which was the sign for Nate to back down. She folded her arms so that she wouldn't be cradling one of her boobs in front of her students, then she gruffly told them that class was over for the day. As the students filed out, the normally boisterous group was quiet. No one could figure out what was wrong with Ms. Rogue, who never ever ended class early.

Rogue stood staring at the wall of mirrors in the training room for a few minutes, not allowing herself to meet her own eyes. Instead, she stared at her stomach. She stared hard, begging silently for this to go away, to not be happening. Finally beyond pissed off at herself, she slammed out of the gym and up to her room, hoping that a hot shower would help settle her nerves. It didn't, so she was wound tighter than she could remember for a long time when she sought out Hank in the med lab an hour later, dressed in jeans and a ratty old T-shirt, her hair still dripping. Brown eyes wide with panic, she uttered only four words.

“Do your damn test.”

---

Logan hadn't seen Rogue all weekend, but that was nothing unusual. The avoidance games they had been playing might have been close to driving him crazy, but the ironic part was they were probably also the only thing keeping him sane. He hated smelling Scott on her when they happened to pass in the hall or he caught a whiff of scent from her room, although that was occurring with less frequency. He was almost to the point where he was allowing himself to hope that it was all just a fling for them, something to make themselves feel better about the betrayal they'd suffered through. That didn't make his mood any better, but at least it was something to think about besides the smell of sex or the anger he saw in her eyes the few times in the past two months that he had managed to catch her gaze.

Monday morning Logan entered the dining room ahead of Jean to find Rogue, Scott and 'Ro still seated at the table. He couldn't help but notice that Rogue looked particularly tired even as he glared at them. All three were gone when he reached the table. He ate quickly, irritable in Jean's silent presence as always. Something was bothering him about the lingering traces of Rogue's scent. Perhaps that was why he followed it to the bathroom down the hall when he left. He stood there in the doorway and knew, without a doubt, that she had spent time in here puking. Logan told himself that she must have caught the bug going around the School. He even almost convinced himself.

When the Wolverine was a little harsher than normal during class, his students just chalked it up to something pissing him off. It happened sometimes, they knew, so they just accepted their lot for the next hour as beings of extreme suffering then left happily for their next class. Lunchtime passed in a blur as Logan tried to think of anything except Rogue. Finally admitting defeat, he decided to indulge in his favorite afternoon pastime.

It wasn't that he was voyeuristic or anything. Sometimes he told himself that he was just sizing up his opponent, memorizing her moves in case one of them pissed the other off bad enough to start a fight sometime. Occasionally he would even play out scenarios in his head, although he tried to avoid that because in his head sex usually followed the fight, and he tried to avoid thinking about Rogue and sex during the day.

So Logan was watching through the window in the metal door when Rogue was kicked in the chest by her best student, watching when she just froze and then dismissed the class. He pulled back into the shadows and thought about that flash of pain he had noticed in her eyes. Maybe no one else would have, but he did. Rogue's eyes in pain were forever branded in his mind, although this pain had been different somehow. He decided that the best thing to do would be to go somewhere, anywhere she wasn't because there was a thought tickling his brain, one he did not want to fully form.

Logan was wandering the sub-levels aimlessly when he heard her voice echoing down the hall from the med lab.

“Do your damn test.”

The anger and pain and panic in her voice was answer enough. Logan had to fight the howl that gathered in his throat. It looked like another trip to the Danger Room was in order.

Rogue stared at Hank as he opened a cabinet at the back of the med lab. “We don't use these very often, but Dr. Grey believed that it was a good idea in case...anything happened, this being a school full of teenagers and all, not to mention consenting adults. So we don't have to send out for anything,” Hank was rambling nervously. In other circumstances Rogue would probably have been amused. Not this one, though.

She took the plastic bag that Hank handed her, looking at the small cup with the twist top inside of it. She examined it, using that as an excuse for stalling. Hank seemed to think that meant she needed directions.

“Just go into the bathroom, my dear, and wash your hands. Open the bag, remove the cup and lid. Place the lid--”

“--inside up, pee for a second over the toilet, wipe, pee in the cup, place lid on the cup and twist, then wash my hands again. Ah got it, Hank.” At his shocked expression, Rogue elaborated, “Carol pulled a few stints as urinalysis monitor when she was a cadet and a junior officer. Ah know the drill.”

She turned on her heel and marched to the bathroom. The door to the hall opened as she passed it, and Jean stepped in side. Rogue ignored her startled and speculative look. Her focus was on the damn cup in her hands. She entered the bathroom and closed the door softly behind her. It was a one toilet deal, maybe a little too cozy for her liking at the moment, but as sterile and cold as the lab it was attached to. Rogue placed the bag with the cup in it on the sink rim and looked in the mirror. For the third time since leaving the gym earlier, she reached up and squeezed her breasts gently, watching her strength to make sure her body wasn't cheating.

They were tender, all right. Perhaps every woman might not have noticed, but Rogue made it a point to be very aware of her own body for many reasons, lethal skin not the least of them. Glaring at her reflection, Rogue began washing her hands, praying that the hot water would help ease the shaking in them.

It took remarkably little time to pee in the little cup according to the correct procedures and leave the bathroom. Unfortunately, Jean was still in the med lab. Rogue decided to keep ignoring her as she strode back over to Hank, who was sitting. She shoved the cup at him.

“Here,” she snarled.

Hank sighed as he took the cup. “Really, Rogue, it's not...”

“Shove it. Please.” See? Rogue could attempt to be nice. There was no reason for Hank to bring up her little issue in front of Jean. She hoped he understood that.

“Ah. Yes. Well, I should have the results in about ten minutes. If you ladies would excuse me?” Hank turned back to his equipment.

Rogue moved off to the side, scowling at the back of his furry blue head. Jean moved as well. It took a minute for Rogue to realize that the red-head was standing closer to her than she had for five months. It made her want to rip out all of that hair she knew—as of five months ago—was natural. It made her want to scratch and bite and kick and scream, to be so near this woman right now. Rogue was a territorial person at heart, and the matter at hand, whether Jean knew it or not, was all about territory. The bitch had already invaded her territory once. Rogue wasn't about to let it happen again. Before she could snap at the woman to get the fuck away, however, Jean spoke.

“Is something wrong, Rogue?” The honeyed tone, the false concern, threatened to overwhelm Rogue. Apparently the idiot telepath had no idea who she was dealing with.

“What is wrong is that you are in my space, Jeannie. You are not my friend, you are not my mother or my sister, and you are not even my doctor. Ah am here for a private consultation with the man currently filling that last role, so Ah would appreciate it if you would mind your own fucking business for once in your life and leave,” Rogue answered, not even bothering to move her eyes from Hank.

“Really, Rogue!” Jean began indignantly.

“Rogue is correct, Dr. Grey, no matter how indelicately she might have put it. I would also appreciate it if you would leave me alone with my patient for, shall we say, an hour more. I'm sure you understand the professional courtesy this would be to me,” Hank interrupted her.

He never called her anything except Dr. Grey anymore. He was never other than professional. He was so professional it could make your teeth ache, and Rogue just wanted to kiss that blue cheek and cheer. Instead Rogue simply turned her head and finally let her brown eyes meet Jean's, let the older woman see the searing contempt she held for her. It gave her some small measure—okay, a very large measure—of delight to see Jean's perfectly tanned skin go chalky white.

Lips tight, Jean left without another word. The staccato clicking of her heals was music to Rogue's ears. After Jean was gone, Rogue turned her gaze back to Hank.

“You know, staring isn't going to make this go any faster. I want as complete a work up from this as possible considering that I cannot draw your blood,” Hank told her without turning around. Rogue just snorted slightly and settled for the wait.

Eight minutes later, Hank turned around slowly. He stood and walked over to Rogue, who was unable to decipher his expression.

“Rogue,” he began, then he stopped. He looked at the floor. “Really, my dear, it is difficult to know how to tell you this...”

“Ah'm pregnant.” The words felt like a cold leaden lump in her mouth.

Hank sighed deeply. “Yes, Rogue. You are, indeed, pregnant,” was all he said at first. He met her eyes again, and now she could read his concern for her. “What...what would you like to do?”

Rogue took a deep breath. “Well, I guess the first thing we'll need to do is get Scott down here,” she told him. “After all, this is half his fault, too.”

Hank's eyes widened a little at that public acknowledgement of the relationship the whole School had spent the past two months tip-toeing around. He nodded slowly. “Of course, Rogue. Do you wish to call him, or would you like me to?” he asked her gently.

Rogue felt tears welling up in her eyes unexpectedly at his kindness. “Ah...can Ah be a coward just this once and ask you to do it, Hank? It's just...not something we planned on, and it's hard to figure out what Ah'm going to say,” she said timidly.

Hank drew her into a surprisingly comforting hug. “Of course I will call him, Rogue. Why don't you sit down at my desk for a few minutes,” he suggested, steering her in the right direction.

Rogue sat while Hank pulled out his cell phone and dialed. She barely listened to his short conversation with Scott, and then they sat there waiting in silence. Rogue played out various scenarios in her head, all of them seeming a little unrealistic. This was Scott, her friend, that she was waiting on. She had never expected him to be Scott, the father of her child.

Scott came rushing into the med lab and stopped in surprise when he saw Rogue sitting at the desk, hands clenched tightly in her lap and staring at him with big brown eyes. Hank stood next to her, one hand on her shoulder. Scott walked all the way into the room, letting the lab doors shut behind him.

“What's going on?” he asked carefully as he neared them.

Rogue bit her lip, silently cursing her invulnerable skin because she couldn't get quite the level of pain she needed to distract herself from what she had to tell him. Taking a deep breath, she finally said, “Scott, Ah'm not sick.”

Scott's eyebrows rose. “Okay, if you're not sick, why are you down here in the med lab?”

Rogue's fingers twisted together even tighter, as if by their own will. “Ah'm...Ah'm pregnant!” It was practically a shout, and her hand flew to her mouth in mortification at how loud she had sounded.

Scott stood there, shock in every line of his body. “But...you said you were on the Pill...” he said weakly.

Rogue nodded even as Hank said, “Scott, there exists some mostly-unpublished evidence that the Pill lacks a certain amount of effectiveness for mutants versus humans. It's not exactly something that is widely known, however...”

“It will be now, at least at this School,” Scott said grimly. Then every line of his body softened, and he knelt in front of Rogue, taking her hands in his. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

Rogue looked at him warily. “Ah don't know. Ah think Ah'm in shock right now...Ah feel sort of numb,” she mumbled.

Scott nodded. “Yeah, I think I know the feeling. What...what do you want to do, Rogue?”

As the conversation seemed to be turning to a more personal nature, Hank slipped quietly away. There was no reason for him to listen until the young couple made their decision.

Rogue looked at Scott uncertainly. “Ah'm...Ah want to keep it, Scott. This might be my one chance, you know?” she asked, her voice thick with tears.

Scott nodded slowly. “I agree, Marie, if that's what you want. What about...us?” he asked, his fingers rubbing hers nervously.

Rogue looked at their joined hands. “Ah...Scott, you're still my best friend, but if you try to say something stupid like we should marry because of the baby, Ah will probably have to hit you upside the head to knock the sense back into you,” she told him seriously.

Scott stared at her for a moment then laughed. “Thanks, I think. I guess it's not like I'd never see him...or her. I just didn't know...I mean, if you had wanted to, I would have...God, this really isn't coming out right,” he said, releasing one of her hands to run his fingers through his hair.

Rogue laughed with him. “That's okay. Ah understand what you mean, and it really is very sweet of you, honey. You know Ah love you, but not...like that,” she told him, reminding him of several conversations they had held late at night. She also knew he agreed with her on the sentiment.

Scott nodded ruefully. “Yeah, I know. I love you too, sweetheart. You're the best friend I've had in a long time, and I wouldn't want to lose that to a mistake that we can avoid,” he said, standing up. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms, and they hugged for a few minutes, just absorbing this new development in their lives.

Finally, Rogue pulled back and looked up at Scott. “What do you want to do about, you know, letting everyone else know?”

Scott squeezed her arms and then let his drop. “I'll let you decide on when to make any sort of announcement, but you are officially on leave from missions, Marie,” he said sternly. “You will be helping the Professor here at the school until after the baby is born. I don't want you taking any chances.” His voice was much softer at the end, and Rogue really couldn't blame him although she chafed just at the idea of not going out. “And you will supervise only for your classes,” Scott finished.

Rogue bristled at that. “What?! Ah'm invulnerable, Scott! A little martial arts isn't going to hurt anything!”

Unfortunately she was loud enough for Hank, in the next room with the door partially closed, to hear. He stepped out and gave her a frown.

“I am afraid that Scott is correct, Rogue. It would not be good for either you or the baby to participate in combat training for the duration of your pregnancy. Your skin may be invulnerable, but your internal organs are still able to be hurt or you would not get bruises—which I know you have gotten since the incident,” the doctor said, sounding just as stern as Scott.

Rogue glared at both of them before throwing up her hands in defeat. “Fine. Nate can be teacher's assistant. Just when Ah find a class Ah actually like to teach, too,” she muttered in disappointment.

Scott gave her a little smile now that the hard part was over. “And if we're going to do that, we'd better tell the Professor, at least, right away,” he said cautiously.

Rogue nodded. “You're right. He needs to know. But no one else, not yet! Ah'd rather announce it in my own time,” she said firmly. “Now, can we go to dinner? Ah'm starving!”

They all laughed and left the med lab. They were already on the elevator and on their way upstairs when Jean slipped into the lab, an intent look on her face.

Logan left the Danger Room still breathing heavily, dried blood sticking to his skin where lacerations had healed on his chest, his arms, his legs. He wondered if it had been enough. At the very least, his mind was quieter than it had been an hour prior, although a low growl still emanated from the depths of his consciousness. It hadn't stopped for the past five months, though, so Logan just ignored it as he had grown used to doing.

The hallways were empty as he prowled through them. Perhaps it was one of those masochistic tendencies he'd noticed about himself since returning to the mansion. Perhaps it was a hope that what he thought was happening was just a figment of his imagination. Whatever it was, Logan found his feet bringing him closer to the med bay. He could see light shining around the rim of the door, so he knew someone was in there. What reason could he give for opening that door, though? A headache? Ha! Perhaps he'd just say he was looking for Jean. That was what they all expected of him anyway.

Imagine his surprise when he opened the door and found that Jean was actually the only occupant of the room. Then imagine his further surprise to find her on the floor, knees to her chest, black mascara tracks from tears that were long dried running down her cheeks. In her hand she clutched a piece of paper. Her eyes never left it, not when the doors opened wide, not when Logan approached cautiously. He believed it was the first time he'd ever seen Jean crying. Her lips were moving, but she wasn't really speaking because even his ears could catch no words.

“Jean?” Logan called softly, unsure how close to get to this woman with telekinetic abilities who just might be going through a mental breakdown. “What's wrong, Jean?” He took a step closer.

Logan was almost a foot away from her when Jean looked up at him with haunted eyes. “I'll never be able to fix it. My life...there's no hope anymore. I can't fix it,” she told him helplessly.

“Can I see the paper, Jean?” Logan asked, pretty sure that whatever had caused this was on that paper.

Jean laughed at that, a wild laugh that sent chills down his spine. “You won't want to see it, Wolverine! The big bad animal won't want to see this, oh no,” she muttered.

Logan finally got a look at the paper when she waved it in the air, still laughing. Not a single bit of it made any sense, though, so he turned back to her. “What does it say, Jean?”

“She has him,” the crazed doctor sobbed, falling back into depression. “She has him, and this, and it's all I ever wanted. I threw it away, and I can't get it back, and now she has it.”

Logan had a very bad feeling that he knew who “she” was, but he needed to hear Jean say it. “Who has what, Jean? Who?”

Jean's wild brown eyes met his, and she grimaced. “That little slut took him away from me, and now they'll be a happy little family. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them,” she muttered, and now she was rocking back and forth.

That's all it took. Logan understood it all, was faced with the truth, the final truth that sent his own mental state into an uproar once again. And there was no going to the Danger Room, no running from the torment in his mind. His claws ripped through the skin of his knuckles, adding physical pain to the mental, and then the Wolverine left the med lab, left the woman muttering on the ground. All instinct, the Wolverine was ready for the kill. If he could take out his rival, take out the source of his pain, there was a chance to redeem himself. The animal mind knew that with a deep conviction.

The Wolverine realized that he would have to be stealthy, though. The woman could never know. She wouldn't understand. She wouldn't forgive him. Not for that. So he made his way silently up to the main level, sniffing. Yes, they had come this way. The scents lead toward the dining hall, which is now empty, and then newer scents heading to Professor Xavier's office with the man himself. They are still there, and the Wolverine set himself up in the shadows to wait.

It didn't take long. The door opened, and the Wolverine watched. He would wait until the rival was alone, no matter how long it took. The woman left first, her face serene with a secret smile that made the Wolverine want to howl and shred something because he did not cause it. The rival followed her, and the Wolverine slipped even deeper into the shadows.

The woman looked around, saw only an empty hallway. “Scott, there is one more thing Ah wanted to talk to you about.” Her voice was very serious, with none of that secret smile apparent.

“What's wrong, Marie?” It was all the Wolverine could do to stop himself from growling at her name on his lips. It always was.

“It's just...Ah think if we're going to do this the right way, we should go back to being just friends. Ah don't want to confuse the baby, once he or she is older, when Mommy and Daddy are playing musical bedrooms but saying we're just friends, you know? Ah think we need to set up some ground rules, kind of like we did in the beginning, and stick with 'em from now on. And Ah think that no more sex should be the number one rule.” She was obviously attempting a light voice, and the Wolverine could see that the rival accepted it on face value.

“I guess I see what you mean. It's been fun, though, hasn't it?”

“Yeah, it has. It meant a lot to me, but now Ah...we have something more important to consider.”

The rival took the woman into his arms, and the Wolverine tensed, ready to part them if it went to far. But it was a quick hug, and then the rival left on his own. The woman passed the Wolverine, all unknowing, to go into an empty, dark rec room and stare out the window at a snow-covered lawn, one hand absently rubbing her stomach. The Wolverine did not follow the rival. The woman had banished him, and that was good, and also all that was necessary for the time being.

For the next couple of weeks Rogue tried to adjust to sleeping longer and more deeply than usual, something which forced her to go to bed early if she wanted to be on time for her first class of the day. Every day she wok up to nausea that sometimes made her just want to snuggle back in but often sent her to the toilet. Either way, she would get ready and take her prenatal vitamins before reluctantly heading downstairs. Scott always greeted her with a sympathetic smile when she would flop down at the table, a glass of orange juice and toast in hand since that was all she could force down so early. They had decided to tell 'Ro about the pregnancy as soon as possible since she was the other team leader and needed to be aware of any significant changes that might affect which team was sent on a mission. Without Rogue, Scott's team was going to be lacking serious combat skills, although he was sure that they could compensate for the months she would be out of commission. So 'Ro knew, and she would pat the younger woman's hand when she sat down and murmur that it was just a phase she would progress out of in a few months. Rogue would manage to get her stomach under control—for the most part—in time to teach, and then lunch would roll around, and she would pack in almost twice as much as usual. Her combat training class seemed to easily accept her plan to make Nate her teacher's assistant, and if any of them thought it was unusual that Ms. Rogue declined to spar, they never breathed a word of it in her presence.

It was in that class that Rogue first heard the rumors, though. Two days after Rogue found out she was pregnant, the whole school seemed to buzz with theories as to why Dr. Grey had mysteriously vanished. When Rogue went to Scott about it later that evening, he looked as confused as she felt when he said he had no idea what was going on. Then he said he guessed that they'd have to lend Jubilee to the other team, to even out the numbers. Rogue looked at him like he was crazy and asked if he was trying to kill Logan. Scott asked her if she cared, and Rogue just shrugged , gave Scott a look and replied that he was the best choice after her as far as physical attacks went. Scott shut up at that point.

Soon Rogue was too distracted by other things to give Jean's disappearance the slightest attention, like several missions where she had to sit back and watch her teammates go out without her. Scott had given them some excuse about Rogue being needed at the mansion, and if they didn't swallow it hook, line and sinker, at the very least they quit asking questions. Rogue did catch Jubilee watching her intently when she was visiting after one particularly grueling mission, but her friend left for her dorm shortly after without saying a word about it.

Hank performed an ultrasound two weeks after Rogue's pregnancy test and concluded that she was in fact eight weeks along. Rogue's head spun a little at that because she suddenly had a due date thirty-two weeks later, and that just seemed a little surreal to her. She left the med lab to tell Scott, preoccupied by that number. Thirty-two. It seemed far away and yet much too soon.

Her focus on internal matters, Rogue didn't hear the footsteps behind her as she waited for the elevator. However, once she was inside and had turned around, she almost shrieked to find Logan standing at the elevator door. He looked at her for a moment and stepped in before the damn door had a chance to close. Rogue would have glared at him, but that would be telling him that he had some way of affecting her, which of course he didn't. Of course he didn't.

Staring straight ahead, Rogue tried to think about anything except the large man next to her. It wasn't really working, although he hadn't said a word to her, either. In fact, now that she thought about it, they hadn't spoken since his return to the mansion. She told herself that was a good thing. They had no reason to talk.

His voice made her jump a little only because she had just been reaffirming to herself that they had no need for speaking to each other. In a typical Logan move, he was leaving the elevator ahead of her when he turned his head just a bit and said softly, “Congratulations.”

Rogue could only stare at his back as he walked quickly down the hallway. That was when she remembered his keen sense of smell and cursed. There must be a difference in her now that she was pregnant, and Logan had picked up on it and correctly deduced its cause. Damn damn damn. Rogue wondered if he would keep his mouth shut about it. She couldn't see any reason he wouldn't, but it was obvious that she had never really known him as well as she once thought she did. Maybe she should make the announcement sooner rather than later.

Rogue barely noticed when the elevator door closed, shutting her inside. Absently she pressed the button to open the doors and stepped out. Here was another reason to talk to Scott. They would need to plan how they were going to tell their teammates, their students. Perhaps they should have talked this over already, but they hadn't.

Scott was in his office grading papers when Rogue found him. She smiled to see him sitting there, absorbed in the task at hand. He stuck his tongue out a little when he graded. Rogue liked to tease him about it.

“Testing the air again, honey?” she asked with a laugh. The pet name was still comfortable with him despite the fact that they were just friends now.

Scott looked up and mock-glared. “I don't know what you're talking about!” he protested.

Rogue was still chuckling as she came forward to lean against the side of his desk, but then she sobered up. “Ah saw Logan on my way up from my appointment,” she told him. Strange how that was the first thing to pop out of her mouth.

Scott frowned. “What did he want?” he demanded, taking her hand in his.

She smiled uncertainly. “He didn't bother me. He just...congratulated me. Ah think he smelled it on me—the pregnancy, you know?” Rogue admitted with a shrug.

Leaning back, Scott looked at her closely. “Are you okay?”

Rogue shrugged again. “Ah'm fine, really. It just made me realize that we'll probably have to make an announcement soon. Do you...maybe we could announce it after combat practice or something?” she suggested.

Scott nodded slowly. “That's probably the best way. I noticed how you've just been doing flying practice the last few times. They're probably wondering anyway, since usually you're a powerhouse during practices. Combine that with not going out on missions, and they might guess something is up,” he said.

Rogue grinned a little. “Ah think Jubes might have guessed. She gave me a look after that last mission,” she admitted.

Scott smiled back. “So, how was your appointment?”

Rogue blushed a little when she remembered exactly how the ultrasound had taken place. “The procedure itself wasn't quite what Ah expected, but Hank said that the heartbeat is strong and development looks good. Ah think it looked like a little peanut! Hank's going to print us off some pictures. He said Ah'm eight weeks along! So my next ultrasound will be in three months, and then we might be able to tell whether it's a boy or a girl. Ah...would you like to be there for that?” It was hard to know what to offer and what not to at this point. They were kind of taking a crash course in “Having a Baby With Your Best Friend.”

However, Scott's eyes lit up at the suggestion, so Rogue knew she had been right to make it. “I'd love to be there, if you'll let me. I know we're just friends and everything, but it's still my first child too, Marie,” he said.

Rogue nodded, her eyes tearing up a little of their own accord. Damn hormones! “Ah'm glad the baby will have a father around, even if it's not the most conventional way,” she told him honestly.

To her surprise, Scott looked at their linked hands with a small frown. “You know, I wanted to talk to you about that. I don't want you to avoid getting into a relationship—loving someone—just because you might feel like you're taking the baby away from me. As long as I can still see him or her, I don't care who else you bring into your lives as long as they're good for you both. I want you to be happy, Marie, and I definitely don't want to be the source of your unhappiness,” he said seriously. Then he grinned. “After all, things that make you unhappy tend to end up broken, and I like my body in one piece!”

Rogue smacked him lightly on the shoulder, which still sent him back into his chair with an “umph!” She put her hands on her hips and said, “That's not funny, Scott Summers!”

He was still grinning. “Only because it's true!”

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him playfully for a minute before turning serious again. “Thank you, though. Ah don't know that Ah'm ever going to find someone Ah feel like that about--” again hung unspoken between them. “Ah probably would have done something stupid like that if you hadn't spoken up, at least to the point of worrying unnecessarily,” she confessed.

“I know,” Scott replied with a smirk.

Rogue just shook her head at him and said, “Ah'll let you get back to your grading. Ah'm so glad Ah took care of mine before lunch!”

Scott shuddered. “Yech. Morning classes. They're almost as bad as morning people!”

Rogue stuck her tongue out at him childishly before she slipped out the door. He returned the gesture.

Feeling in much better spirits after her conversation with Scott, Rogue decided that a work out was necessary. Hank had warned her about what she shouldn't do while pregnant, but that still left plenty of options. As long as she kept her weights in the low end and didn't completely exhaust herself with the cardio, she would be fine. She headed upstairs to change into a pair of running shorts and a tank top, thankful for the climate control of the mansion as she glanced out at the snow and ice outside.

---

Logan knew that something had shifted inside of him when he let himself admit Rogue's pregnancy. It was as if a barrier he'd erected within himself had come down, and he was left facing that darker part of himself he always kept as firmly leashed as possible. Only now he really didn't want to keep the leash so tight. Full of anger at himself, anger at Rogue, and a deep desire to hold her in his arms again, he spent the next weeks in a fog of emotions that left him even more likely to snap at stupidities or brood dangerously around the mansion. Students and adults stayed out of his way. He vaguely wondered what had happened to Jean after he found her in the med lab, but her disappearance wasn't exactly a priority in his mind at that point. At least she wasn't getting in his way this time if he could help it.

Logan observed Rogue using his senses since he knew he couldn't get her to talk to him. He noticed that she had morning sickness as soon as she woke up that dissipated after an hour or so. She looked so tired lately, even though the sound of deep, even breathing could be heard from behind her door from eight o'clock at night until her alarm clock went off at seven o'clock in the morning. He thought she might have lost a little weight, probably from the vomiting and the way she hardly seemed to eat anything in the morning—not that he blamed her. Despite all of that, though, she glowed, more beautiful than ever. He thought maybe her breasts were a little larger, which he definitely appreciated. He could tell by her scent that she was reasonably healthy, and intellectually he knew that the morning sickness was just one of the body's ways of reacting to the pregnancy. Of course, he got a small amount of amusement that Scooter's kid was giving her so much difficulty—then again, when he thought about that, he was back to being angry at her for jumping into Scott's bed in the first place.

Logan had just gone to his room after congratulating Rogue on her pregnancy—and getting a big-eyed shocked look for his trouble—when that line of thinking started again. Since he had already spent a few hours in the Danger Room that day, he decided that a work out would probably help ease some of the tension. He knew he had to start his campaign for Rogue soon, or she might get so wrapped up in the pregnancy that she wouldn't have time to be distracted by his attempts to gain her forgiveness and maybe get her love back. He missed her, and he could admit it to himself when he was alone. It did make him feel even more annoyed—this time mostly with himself—so he slammed out of his room and headed down to the gym.

Rogue didn't see him at first. She was too focused on her need to release some of the energy she was feeling in sweat and straining muscles. She stepped into the gym and wondered who had left the lights on. Shrugging at the idle thought, Rogue went for the treadmill. A light jog would get her heart rate going and still not be too strenuous, she decided. Since the treadmills were all closest to the door, she had no reason to look toward the weight lifting area at the back of the large room. That would come next, after she got in her usual three miles. Turning on her iPod and slipping in her ear buds, Rogue programmed the machine and started jogging.

Twenty minutes later, completely lost in the music and the feel of her feet pounding along the treadmill's conveyor belt, Rogue looked up and nearly lost her footing. Logan stood across the room, watching her. Something in his face made her stomach clench, so she quickly looked down at the little red numbers showing how many minutes she'd been running and how many miles she'd gone. Her breathing was getting unsteady, no doubt from the run, so she took several deep breaths to fill her lungs. She used her music to stop any sounds his footsteps might make and prayed that he was leaving soon. This was the first time they had been alone in a room together since he came back to the mansion, and with everything else going on in her life, Rogue wasn't sure how to handle it.

It seemed like she couldn't find her rhythm again after meeting his eyes. Rogue ground her teeth together in frustration and pushed up the levels until she was all out running. Maybe that wasn't the best thing for her, although Hank never said she couldn't sprint. Sweat trickled in a steady stream down her back, and Rogue tried to focus on that, on the way her thigh muscles burned pleasantly, on her calves, anything except the man across the room. She was startled when a large hand reached out and pushed the button to lower the level to somewhere around a walk. Rogue snapped her head up to glare at him and yanked out one ear bud.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” she demanded.

Logan frowned at her. “You're gonna hurt yourself if you overexert like that. I doubt Hank wants to deal with a miscarriage—unless you're trying to lose the baby?”

Rogue gasped and smacked the stop button the treadmill. She stepped off and glared up at the man she'd once loved. “Hank has approved my current exercise regiment until my third month. The only thing Ah can't do is go around getting kicked or punched. So don't go trying to tell me what Ah can do, Wolverine!”

The frown deepened. “I just didn't want to have to rush you down to the med lab, Rogue. Sorry if I got a little worried thinking you might be doing too much in your condition!” he growled.

Rogue couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. “Since when have you been worried about me? Oh, wait, no, that's right. You were worried that you might have to do something. Ah forgot that it's all about you, what you want to do—or don't want.” She marched past him toward the weights, head down.

Logan tried to grab her arm, but she just pulled easily out of his grip and kept going. Rogue heard him following her, and it was all she could do not to turn around and attempt to do some rearranging of that metal-covered skull of his. She picked up a free weight and began to do curls. She clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the large presence behind her.

“You're wrong about that, Rogue. I wanted you. I still do,” he said softly.

It took all of the self-control Rogue possessed not to throw the damn weight at him. “Bullshit, Logan. Are you forgetting who found you fucking Jean on the kitchen floor? Ah think the whole school knows what you wanted, and it wasn't me!” she ground out through gritted teeth. She refused to meet his eyes in the mirror she faced, instead concentrating on watching her form. It was almost impossible not to watch him, though, as he raked his hand through his hair. She reveled a little, just a little, in the guilt that flooded his eyes. He was hurting. Part of her felt that was only fair, while the other part hurt for him hurting, which made no sense at all given the circumstances.

“Look, Rogue, I know I fucked up. I just...I guess I didn't want to admit how much of a hold you had on me,” he said.

She threw him a skeptical glare and switched arms. “Why do Ah think that you're just saying that because now Scott and Ah are sleeping together? Is that it, Logan? Do you have some sort of sick, twisted need to get into Scott's bed, so you keep trying to fuck the women he's fucking?” Wow, that came out of nowhere, but she was so angry with him that it was either insult him or beat up on him, and beating him would involve touching him, which might not be a very good idea.

Logan growled at her. “The only bed I'm interested in getting into is yours!” he yelled.

Rogue stilled. Finally she met his eyes fully in the mirror, weight raised halfway in in her hand. Very slowly she put the weight down and turned to face him.

“You had your chance, Logan. You blew it. Ah've come to grips with that, as much as Ah can, but there's no way that we are ever going to have anything again. So just accept that and move on. Maybe you can find an acceptable red-head at the bar in town. Maybe you could even try being pickier about her being an actual red-head, too,” she said sarcastically. It looked like her work out was done. As she shoved past Logan he grabbed her arm.

“Why don't you just touch me so that you can realize that I'm telling the truth?!” he asked her harshly. “I want you. It was always about you, even when I was just trying escape you!”

Rogue's eyes blazed. “Not the smartest thing you've ever said, Logan, and boy have you said some stupid shit,” she spit at him before shaking him off as if he was no more than a fly. She stormed out of the gym and up to her room. Throwing herself on the bed, Rogue stared at the wall and willed herself not to cry. She ignored the few drops that slid down her cheeks and onto her pillows aberrations, nothing more. They didn't mean anything.

She would never touch him again, not the way he had demanded her to. Never, never, never...

---

Logan watched Rogue stalk out of the gym and wanted to howl. He wanted to rip something apart, rend and tear apart the world if that's what it took. He was angry with himself for running from her to another woman, angry with Jean for being there when he ran, angry with Rogue for seeing it, and angry with Scott for being there to pick up the pieces he left behind. He headed down to the Danger Room for the second time that day to try and work out some of that anger and frustration because, behind the rage, he had to admit that he had known all along that it wouldn't be words that won her back to him. It would have to be his actions because his actions had lost her in the first place.

As he pummeled away at the simulations of Sentinels, soldiers and mutants, Logan began to form a plan.

The first morning that Rogue found a tray with milk, orange juice and toast waiting outside her bedroom door after she managed to drag herself out of bed and into some clothes, she reluctantly ate it all. In a way, it was a relief not to go down to the dining room and face the crowd. Soon they would have to notice that her appetite had changed, her routines had changed. You couldn't live with close to a hundred people and not notice little details about their lives. It was like the way she knew that 'Ro liked to garden early in the morning before classes, Scott would bury himself in a book or one of his cars for hours at a time when he was stressed out, and Hank hung upside down when he was deepest into his research because it “helped him concentrate.” The fact that Rogue hadn't attempted to spar with anyone in three weeks was probably being whispered about, and her new status as the Professor's assistant instead of active team member had already raised eyebrows. Maybe one or two of the more perceptive mansion residents might have put two and two together to come close to four.

Dragging herself away from the pointless circles her thoughts had become, Rogue decided to take the empty tray downstairs herself. Thanks to the unexpected breakfast, she was running a little ahead of her normal schedule. The food had been fairly perfect for someone fighting constant nausea, and she made a mental note to thank Scott. She was sure he was the one who had left her the tray. Maybe he had noticed how much more violent her morning sickness had become in the past few days.

However, Scott frowned when she mentioned her breakfast. “I didn't make you a tray, Marie, although I wish I had thought of it. I hate how much you're suffering because of me,” he said quietly, giving her hand a squeeze as they stood in the hallway before classes started.

Rogue's smile was distracted as she replied, “Oh, well, it was probably Hank, then. Plus, don't forget it took two of us to get in this situation. You didn't exactly force yourself on me...although there was that one night with the handcuffs...” She laughed when he blushed. The handcuffs had been a surprising addition to one of their nights together. At the time Scott had joked about wanting to keep her anchored to the bed for once.

Scott coughed a little as students began streaming around them, heading toward their first classes. Rogue grinned and went into her own classroom, feeling her stomach settle more as she used the students' participation to take her mind off of her nausea. The rest of the day passed by in a whirlwind, the way that the days sometimes did, and Rogue forgot to thank Hank for the tray.

Rogue actually didn't get a chance to talk to Hank for several days. Two hectic, back-to-back missions kept him busy downstairs healing injuries on the teams and giving new students physicals. When she finally cornered him to thank him for the breakfasts she was still receiving despite how busy he was, his reply startled her.

“I am sorry, my dear. I would like to claim such a thoughtful gesture as my own, but I would be lying. Perhaps someone has guessed your secret,” Hank said, inadvertently causing a fountain of swirling emotions to well up in Rogue’s head. He continued blithely, “The mystery will clear up once you make your announcement.”

Rogue nodded through the haze that had settled over her. Somehow she managed to thank Hank for his time and make it back to her room. She sat by her window for several hours watching the sun sink below the tree line. Since thinking led to ideas she really would rather not entertain, Rogue let her mind drift into a numb nothingness, a skill she had learned very well after Logan’s betrayal. It wasn’t a state she could maintain for long, but it helped sometimes.

This was not one of those times. When Rogue emerged from her numb cocoon the worry, pain and anger were still there, gnawing greedily at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to focus on the anger because that was safe. The anger could feed on the worry and pain, using them as a catalyst. In fact, the anger became strong enough that she rose to her feet, crossed her room, opened the door and went down the hall to the door she usually avoided. The anger forced her hand to rise, forced her fist to pound against the wood. When the door opened, she scowled at the man staring at her.

“I want you to stop leaving me breakfast in the morning. I don’t need you watching over me like a damn mother hen,” she snarled at him, riding that wave of anger.

“No.” He crossed his arms, leaned against the door jamb and quirked that eyebrow she used to love so much.

Rogue’s clenched into fists as if of their own free will. “What?!”

Logan kept his eyes steadily on hers. “N. O. That spells ‘no.’ Maybe you should work on your spelling if you’re going to be teaching the kids around here.”

Rogue’s eyes widened. She went with her instincts and let one of her fists fly out, connecting with his jaw in a sweet right hook. He sprawled on the floor, rubbing his jaw and glaring at her. Since she had heard the crunch as her fist connected with his face, Rogue figured a strategic retreat was called for.

“You’d better not do it again, Logan. I won’t eat anything you bring anymore!” She fired that parting shot as she spun her heel and marched back toward her own door. His quiet, “We’ll see,” followed her down the hall.

---

Logan heard Rogue’s door slam and smiled to himself. He had unsettled her. That was good. He had been wondering when she would realize who was leaving her a breakfast suited to a pregnant woman. As far as he was aware there were few options, but it had taken her a day longer than he had expected. The result was worth it, though. She had talked to him again. Yes, she was angry and knocked him across the room, but he’d been expecting something like that, actually. If he was getting under her skin, though, then she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she was pretending to be. That was all that mattered.

Logan was determined to keep up the first phase of his plan. After all, why would she ignore perfectly good food, especially when eating it in her room would keep prying eyes from stumbling across her condition sooner than she wanted? In addition to that, he would start planning the second phase now that she knew he was responsible for the first. The timing of when he would start would all be up to her, though.

It was another boring mission briefing a few days later. Usually Rogue tried to pay strict attention, but she was too busy quietly seething over the high-handedness of a certain hairy bastard to care much at that moment. Said hairy bastard had not stopped his morning food deliveries, despite two other attempts to talk some reason into him, and of course she couldn’t just let the food go to waste. She also didn’t want to carry the tray downstairs because then there would be questions. They were questions she was getting a little tired of fielding, though, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to quit eating those delivered breakfasts. Of course, she could have just thrown the food into Logan’s face—literally—but then that might lead to an interaction that would be longer than she really wanted to deal with.

Words flew past her, like “prisoner,” “factory,” and “perfect timing,” but the phrase that caught her attention was, “We could really use Rogue on this one.”

Rogue’s eyes snapped to Bobby, who was home for the weekend. Then she looked to her left at Scott, who raised his eyebrows. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. What the fuck. They might as well get it over with.

“I’m afraid Rogue won’t be going on anymore missions for a while,” Scott said slowly. Instantly the attention of the entire room was focused on the two of them. Rogue was a little worried when she saw an almost-imperceptible smile curl up one corner of Logan’s mouth. “In fact, she’s going to be out of commission for the next six and a half months at least.”

Before Rogue could say anything, Jubilee squealed and leaned over from her right, giving her what might have been a crushing hug for anyone else. “I knew it! Roguey’s pregnant! Congratulations, you two!”

Rogue felt her eyes go wide even as she hugged Jubilee back. “Umm…thanks, Jubes…” she managed to choke out around the unexpected panic she felt. Not once had she thought about her reaction to their friends assumptions about who her baby’s father was, but now it hit her just how obvious they had been. Oh, they hadn’t been trying to hide their frequent liaisons, but they hadn’t acted like a couple in public, either. At least, she thought they hadn’t.

The smiles on most of the faces surrounding them reassured Rogue that, whatever her friends’ feelings about her complicated relationship with Scott, they were willing to just be happy about the new life that would eventually come out of it. The only dark cloud was Logan, who somehow managed to keep that slight smile while also looking as if he wanted to murder someone. So Rogue turned her gaze from him quickly as she accepted congratulations from around the table. Jubilee and Kitty were already babbling about a baby shower, and Rogue laughingly begged them to at least wait to find out what sex the baby was going to be before making too many plans. Scott smiled indulgently at them all, also carefully avoiding Logan’s gaze.

---

So she did it. They did it. They announced their little bundle of joy, and everyone was so happy for them. Logan would have growled and started ripping the closest piece of furniture to shreds if it hadn’t been for the fact that this played so well into his plan. Now that the little secret was out in the open, he could start showing Rogue how a man was supposed to take care of a woman in her position. Once he had her attention in a less-than-violent way, he was going to do his damnedest to make sure he kept it. The only problem he could think of, the only hurdle, was that he was going to have to put up with Scott in their life in some capacity. As much as he always thought the man was an uptight ass, he knew his rival would want to be part of his child’s life. Just as long as he didn’t want to be part of the mother’s life as well, that would possibly be something Logan could accept.

Logan pretended not to notice how his abrupt departure affected his teammates. He had a mission to get ready for, since it seemed like most of the briefing was completed anyway, and then after that he was going to go on a shopping trip. He’d done his research and new exactly what he was going to buy.

---

The red-haired woman stared at the man in front of her calmly. Despite the clear madness in her brown eyes, she was dressed in a neatly pressed blue wool suit and her hair was smoothly pulled back into a bun, so he smiled at her warmly and shook the hand she held out to him.

“My dear Dr. Grey, I am so pleased to meet you. Please, won’t you sit down and tell me what brings you here?” he said as he settled back into his extremely comfortable desk chair.

The redhead sat primly on the edge of the overstuffed black leather chair situated at just the right angle in front of his rich wooden desk to make the visitor feel like a supplicant. She didn’t act like any sort of supplicant, however. Instead, her very bearing gave the impression that whatever she decided to do, whether it was help him or kill him, she would be doing him a very great honor simply by granting him her presence.

“You may know, Mr. Creed, that I am a mutant as well as a doctor, and that I have done extensive research on various mutations I have come in contact with. I am willing to help you with your current agenda, as long as you can promise me one thing,” Jean Grey told the middle-aged, balding man in front of her.

Graydon Creed leaned forward across his desk, folded his hands together, and met her mad eyes with his gleaming ones. This was an incredible opportunity. “And what do you want from me, Dr. Grey?” he asked her quietly.

“Only one thing. Revenge,” Jean whispered harshly, and for just a moment Creed would have sworn on his disgusting mutant mother’s grave that her eyes blazed with actual fire.

Rogue opened her door cautiously and peeked out into the hall. This had become her habit for the past two months. At first she tried to tell herself that she was just checking to see if the kids were behaving themselves from the noise levels in the mansion or that she wanted to make sure that the rest of the mansion was as warm as her room so that she wouldn’t look silly in a short-sleeved shirt when everyone else was wearing long-sleeved. However, pretty soon she had to admit, at least to herself, that she was avoiding a certain Wolverine like the plague when possible. Since Rogue had made it her mission for his first months back at the mansion not to pay attention to his whereabouts, it had taken her some time to remember to listen for tell-tale signs that he was entering or leaving his room, whispers of sound that no one else could hear.

As soon as Rogue heard Logan leave in the morning, she usually felt safe enough to proceed with her routine of checking to make sure he wasn’t lurking in the hallway. Even though her stomach was still a little tender so early in the day, she made it a point to get downstairs early enough that he wouldn’t have an opportunity to bring her up food anymore. The one time she breezed past him as he was carrying a loaded tray upstairs had filled her with grim satisfaction, and every day since then she managed to be at breakfast long before he filled up his own plate, let alone one for her.

Smiling smugly, Rogue made her way down the steps and into the dining room only to be brought up short. Somehow, Logan managed to be the only person sitting at what was informally known as the “Teachers’ Table.” Usually at least one other adult would be there, and Rogue would always use them as a buffer to avoid any unnecessary contact with Logan. It would look very strange to the few students already in the room if she sat elsewhere, though, considering Logan and she were supposed to have called an uneasy truce long ago, at least for the benefit of the students. So Rogue grabbed a few items randomly from the breakfast buffet and headed over to the table.

She did not sit at the furthest seat away from Logan, but Rogue made sure that a couple of chairs were between them. She kept her head down as she woodenly picked up her spoon and scooped up some oatmeal. She could hardly taste the stuff around the lump in her throat, which was probably more of a blessing than anything because she really didn’t like oatmeal very much. A few more bites followed the first, and then a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Don’t tell me the all-powerful Rogue is afraid of the Big Bad Wolverine.” The amused comment was pitched so that only the two of them could hear.

Rogue’s gaze lifted to Logan’s, the green deepening with her anger as she glared at him. “Ah’m not afraid of anything, especially not you,” she told him, trying to believe that it was true. She hated that, without the distraction of Scott, her body sometimes responded to Logan despite how much she despised him. If she feared anything, it was her own body’s betrayal, Rogue told herself.

Logan’s eyebrow rose with his characteristic smirk, and Rogue was tempted to try and wipe it off his face right then and there. To control her temper in front of the students, she turned her attention back to her food. She knew that breaking eye contact would appear to be a sign of weakness to him, but she just didn’t care. It was that or risk the Professor’s wrath when she did her best to beat the arrogant bastard to a bloody pulp, and since she didn’t care what Logan thought of her anymore, she would focus on keeping the Professor’s good opinion.

Rogue was in the middle of biting into a slice of orange when Logan spoke again.

“You know, I was talking with the Professor yesterday about combining our self-defense classes. You can’t demonstrate the more aggressive moves for your students in your condition, so it make sense to have me there during your classes to act as a—teaching aid, so to speak.”

He said it so casually that Rogue almost thought she hadn’t heard right. It took her brain a few seconds to catch up, and then any thoughts of keeping the Professor happy flew right out the window.

“You did WHAT?!” she yelled, jumping up and turning to face him in one quick motion. Rogue’s fists were balled at her side as she advanced toward him. “There is no way in HELL that Ah will share my students or any other part of my life with you, Wolverine! We will not be teaching classes together! My being pregnant is not affecting my teaching, dammit!” Her voice rose in volume with each small step she took towards him. By the time she reached him, Logan was standing warily, but the amused glint in his eyes told her that it was all for show.

“Calm down, Rogue. You’re a good teacher, but you and I both know that you’ll hurt the baby if you try to do too much. It’s why you’re not on missions anymore. It just makes sense to combine the classes. The Professor thought so, too,” he told her, raising his hands up as if to fend her off.

Rogue switched directions as quick as thought, reached over and grabbed her plate. It sailed through the air with all of the strength she possessed, and even Logan wasn’t fast enough to keep it from shattering against his head. As he dropped to the ground, stunned and bleeding, Rogue hovered over him—literally—and yelled, “Ah don’t give a damn what you or the Professor thinks, Wolverine! You and Ah are NOT working together!”

Rogue flew out an open window before anyone else in the dining room, including Scott and Ororo, who had just walked in, had a chance to react.

---

Logan glared out the window in the Professor’s study and tried to ignore the disapproving stare leveled at his back. So maybe he had jumped the gun a little bit at breakfast. All he’d meant to do was tease Rogue, make her pay attention to him. He did want to help with her classes, too, since he felt that the kids needed someone to spar with who was experienced even if the teacher was indisposed.

“Then maybe you should have let me talk to Rogue first, Logan,” the Professor commented behind him. Logan shot him a dirty look. “I will stay out of your head when you stop acting like a five-year-old who has been denied a treat and act like the grown man you are. We have to find some way of salvaging this situation so that Rogue will allow you to help with her classes.”

“If Rogue needs someone to help train her kids, I’m willing to help, Professor,” Scott said from his seat on one of the leather couches in the study. Logan’s glare transferred to Summers for a moment before he returned to staring out the window into the blue sky.

“I am afraid that your own schedule would make that difficult, Scott. While all of the other teachers would also make good candidates for helping Rogue demonstrate to her students, their schedules also interfere. I also do not want to switch everyone’s classes around so close to the end of the school year when there is a perfectly good self-defense teacher who does not have classes which conflict with Rogue’s,” the Professor said, giving his protégé a hard look. “Besides, Rogue and Logan must learn how to work together someday. What would happen if the school were invaded, giving us little or no time to divide into teams. I must know that they can work together for the good of the students despite their personal differences. I believe that this gives us a safe, drawn-out time frame in which to work through any problems and set my mind at ease as to the situations we might one day find ourselves in. We all live too much in each other’s pockets to allow such bitterness to continue unchecked,” he added severely.

Logan felt surprised but slightly gratified at the Professor’s words until Scott piped in again.

“Professor, Rogue shouldn’t be blamed for how she feels towards Logan. Don’t you think that making her work with him is almost like punishing her in this situation? Please, let her friends help her,” he practically pleaded.

Logan’s fists clenched together, the claws itching to slide out, but Professor Xavier’s next comment cooled his temper somewhat.

“Scott, I appreciate that you care for Rogue, but there are times when we all have to work with those we otherwise would choose not to. It is part of her growing up process to learn how to do that. Otherwise, how can she teach her child—your child—that valuable lesson one day?”

Logan wanted to howl at the Professor’s phrasing, but it did seem to make Scott reconsider. He crossed his arms and glared at the floor for a few minutes, reluctantly acknowledging that the other man did, unfortunately, have some stake in this decision, too.

After a few minutes of silence, Scott nodded his head to Professor Xavier, deliberately ignoring Logan. “All right. I’ll support you in this, Professor. I just hope you know what you’re doing—and I hope you’re prepared to pay the repair bills!”

Logan almost laughed at that one before he remembered his bleeding head from earlier and realized that the joke was on him.

The gym was very quiet. The group of fifteen young mutants looking back and forth from one side of the large open room to the other almost reeked of anxiety.

Obviously, Rogue hadn’t hidden her hostility towards Logan nearly as well as she thought she had, since it was apparent to her that her students were expecting a knock-down-drag-out fight to erupt any moment, pregnancy or no pregnancy. Granted, it probably didn’t help that currently she was attempting to channel Scott’s mutation while glaring at the back of Logan’s head as he sparred individually with her best student, Nate. Her clenched fists and the anger practically radiating from her probably didn’t help, either.

Rogue tried to remember why it was important to remain calm during her pregnancy. It had something to do with the baby, she was sure, but just then she wanted to take that big idiot across the room and slam him into the wall. Instead, she watched as Logan and Nate exchanged blows. Their form was fantastic, which made Rogue even more upset somehow. She didn’t want Nate to do well against Logan, and it took her a minute to realize that she felt that way because she was pouting over not being able to fight herself. With that realization, Rogue shook her head a little to clear it and tried to smooth the frown from her face, willing her hands to unclench. After all, if that wasn’t one of the stupidest things she’d ever heard of, and she heard a lot in the mansion sometimes, then Rogue wasn’t a Southern girl.

Finally Logan managed to pin Nate. If Rogue was being honest, she would admit that he probably could have managed it about ten seconds into the fight, but the point was to train the students how to react, not beat them into the ground. She had to give Logan props for drawing the fight out and showing Nate the correct ways to counter his attacks without being unnecessarily violent. Rogue was a little surprised that he managed it, actually.

“Good job, Nate,” she said, focusing her eyes only on her student. “Now, you all saw how Logan and Nate defended against each other in that fight, right? I want you to pair off and practice hand-to-hand together. Try some of the moves they did, and don’t be surprised when you land on your face a few times,” Rogue added with a tight smile. Her students grinned hesitantly back and obeyed, spreading out on the mats surrounding them.
Nate went to the wall to grab his water bottle, but Logan sauntered over until he was barely a foot away from Rogue.

“Still think this was a bad idea, Rogue?” he asked smugly.
Rogue’s anger sprang back into full force. “Ah’m not going to admit defeat just because you managed to show Nate a few tricks. Ah still think that Ah can run my own damn class perfectly well on by myself, and Ah especially don’t need any help from you,” she ground out as quietly as possible.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, maybe, but look how much easier it will be on you with me here,” he said with a smirk.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that ‘easy’ isn’t always better?” Rogue asked spitefully.
The flash of pain in Logan’s eyes should have made her happy, but instead she felt as if her mouth was coated in dust, fuzzy and very dry as she tried to swallow.

Without waiting for a reply from Logan, she spun on her heel and marched over to one pair of students, explaining to them why one was cross-eyed on the ground while the other had fallen to one knee with her other leg painfully twisted behind her. Rogue absently rubbed her slightly-protruding stomach as she talked as if to reassure herself. By the time she dared a look over her shoulder at Logan, he had put as much distance between them as possible, helping another pair of students who were struggling. Rogue quickly looked back to the two youngsters in front of her as they pulled themselves painfully back into vertical positions.

---

Logan kept himself busy for the rest of the class, careful not to look in Rogue’s direction. She was right when she said that easy wasn’t better. He had taken the easy way when he had sex with Jean, and look what happened to them all. He lost Rogue to Scott, even if it was just for a little while. She was having another man’s baby, and there was nothing he could do about it. Logan fought back the wave of despair and rage that thought brought, trying to concentrate on the students he was supposed to be helping.

By the time the class was over, Logan was more than happy to take a break. Rogue’s next combat class wasn’t for another hour, so he followed the children out without saying anything to her. His determination to break down the walls between them was shaken, and he knew he needed a chance to strengthen his resolve, even though he wasn’t sure he deserved a happy outcome to the whole situation just then.

Would it be better if he just left? That thought ran through his mind as Logan pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and leaned against the kitchen counter. Bottle in hand but mostly forgotten, he stared blindly at the wall across from him and frowned.

“Are you going to drink that, Logan?” the amused voice of his teammate came to him from the shadows of the kitchen to his left.

The fact that he hadn’t noticed Ororo sitting at the table in the corner when he entered the kitchen, not even by smell, spoke to how distracted Logan was. He stared at her in surprise for a few moments before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Popping the cap off his beer, he strode over to the table and settled across from the white haired woman, avoiding her dark eyes as best he could.

They sat in silence, Logan slowly drinking his beer while Ororo finished off the sandwich she was eating. Finally, when Logan thought she was about to simply stand up and walk away, Ororo spoke again.

“You know, Logan, none of us can change the past. We can only move forward, one step at a time, and sometimes we are required to make up for mistakes we have made. There is no shame in making amends,” she said quietly.

Logan finally met Ororo’s eyes. “But what if the person you want to forgive you is determined not to? How can you convince them that you won’t hurt them again?” he asked, not even pretending that he didn’t know what she was talking about. They had developed a working relationship of sorts. He trusted her the way he didn’t trust many people, to watch his back. Logan knew she was disappointed with what had happened between him and Jean, but she had always seemed the least angry out of anyone at the mansion after the incident. She had even called several times to check up on the exiles while they were staying at that stupid ranch.

Ororo’s eyes were sad as she said, “You just have to be persistent and show how badly you feel about what happened. Don’t give up if it really matters that much to you.”

Logan nodded slowly. “Yeah, it does. She does. I never should have…” he couldn’t finish.

Ororo rose and moved to stand beside him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly. “I know. I truly believe that this matter will resolve itself in time. My good wishes are with you both,” she told him softly before moving to put her plate in the dishwasher and leaving the kitchen.

Logan sat silently at the table for a few more minutes. Then he stood, threw his unfinished bottle of beer into the trash and left, his steps purposeful once more.

Rogue dropped wearily into one of the many overstuffed leather chairs in the library. She absently stroked the cool dark brown upholstery, a small frown creasing her forehead even as she settled in and drew up her legs before guiltily lowering them again. Sometimes she still forgot about the small swelling at her waist, forgot that some of her favorite positions would make things even more cramped for the baby she was only just beginning to feel.

Tonight Rogue felt particularly useless. Both teams had been sent out on a joint mission, one requiring more than the normal amount of support. Only Rogue stayed behind with the Professor to keep watch over the students, all of whom decided to get up to as much mischief as possible between the teams leaving just after dinner and lights out. Rogue had dealt with a clogged toilet from the younger students and a plastic wrapped toilet from the older ones, a water fight in one of the bathrooms that somehow devolved into a catfight between roommates, and all of the alarm clocks on the second floor going off precisely five minutes apart for an hour. To say that she was exhausted would be a gross understatement, but there was still the worry about her teammates to keep her awake.

Across the large room, Professor Xavier looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “I would let you know if there were any problems, Rogue.” He spoke just loudly enough for her to hear, a gentle rebuke in his voice.

Rogue raised a skeptical eyebrow in his direction. “Would you, Professor? Are you sure you wouldn’t keep anything from me for my own good?” She flashed a tired grin to let him know that she could accept that behavior from him even if she would verbally shred any other person who wanted to try it. And even if she would do her best to find out anyway.

Xavier shook his head. “If anything goes wrong I will let you know, my dear. You look like you could use an early night,” he said frankly.

Allowing her smile to grow, Rogue shook her head. “Ah’ll wait here with you. Ah could use quiet adult company after the evening Ah just had,” she said ruefully.

The Professor nodded and returned to his paper. Rogue reflected on the strange mixture that was her mentor as she alternated between watching him read and staring into the flames leaping in the marble fireplace to her left. On one hand, Xavier kept up with the latest technology, equipping the school with state-of-the-art computers and televisions, his X-Men receiving cutting-edge body armor, weapons and medical care. However, he still read an actual printed newspaper and wrote thank you notes on stationary to patrons of the school.

Rogue allowed her head to dip sideways and then settle. Her eyes grew heavy as her eyes fixed on the flames dancing a few feet away. For a moment she would have sworn they took on a vaguely bird-like shape, but then it disappeared like any other random pattern a person might see in flames. She forgot about the anomaly moments later as a long yawn threatened to unhinge her jaw. The Professor looked over at her again, and he smiled indulgently.

“Are you sure you don’t want to head to bed, Rogue?” he asked quietly.

Rogue sighed and forced her eyes open. “Ah guess Ah should. Ah get so tired these days, and this little one isn’t even hear yet!”

“Just wait until he or she is born. I have been told that you will be grateful for all the years of sleep you had prior to having a newborn,” he teased gently as she pulled herself to her feet.

Rogue grimaced. “Ah’m awfully afraid you’re right, Professor,” she said ruefully as she made her way out of the library and into the dimly lit halls beyond. With only two adults home and all the children in bed, there was no need for the hallways to be filled with light. Rogue let her eyes wander as she passed each open doorway, vigilant as always when the others were away for signs that something wasn’t right. Seeing nothing out of place, she headed upstairs to her room.

Just in front of her doorway, Rogue saw a slip of paper. Her lips turned up as she wondered which of the students had snuck out of bed to leave her a note. She bent down and picked up the neatly-folded white paper. She flipped it open as she turned the weathered brass doorknob and slipped into the dark room. A quick flick of the light switched filled the room with a warm yellow glow, one that gave color to Rogue’s face as her own drained away once she saw the familiar scrawl on the otherwise pristine paper.

“Rogue,” it began. “I have taken Jenny with me. I have some associates who are interested in…examining her powers. However, I am willing to return her if you would like to come with me in her place. You have one hour to make your decision and meet me at the old train station two miles away. If you tell anyone about this, I will take her anyway. I’m keeping an eye on you.” The note was signed, “Jean Grey” with a conveniently placed time next to the signature.

Jenny was a ten-year-old whose abilities, turning herself almost invisible, would not help her escape from a telepath. She was probably frightened out of her mind since she had never met Jean, having only been sent to the school in the past month by her parents. The paper fluttered from Rogue’s numb fingers as she wildly looked towards the ornate silver mantle clock she had found at an antiques store recently. She had forty minutes to get there.

Rogue had no doubt that Jean was keeping a mental eye on her as promised, so she made no effort to shout for the Professor. Instead, she left the note on her bed where anyone looking for her would see it, grabbed the green hoodie draped over the arm of her delicate pink desk chair and quietly left her room, carefully leaving the door slightly ajar. The trip down the hall and the back staircase seemed to take too much time although it must have only been a minute or two. Rogue cautiously left through the back door, again leaving it open just a little bit.

Once she was outside, Rogue felt free to break into a run that soon became a leap into the air. It felt good to race just above the trees. She was able to give the adrenaline pounding through her veins an outlet as she soared in the direction of the abandoned building that was her goal.

---

Jean Grey impatiently watched the sky even as she kept one hand clamped over the mouth of the young girl she held firmly to her side. She ignored the wide, terror-filled blue eyes even as her own scanned the treetops. She had no doubt that Rogue would choose to travel via the air, where few humans were likely to see her, as opposed to the road where any passing car might spot her. Her powers let her know that Rogue was on her way but little else. For some reason the girl had often remained an enigma to her. Perhaps it was the camouflage of other minds existing behind the deceptively sweet brown eyes.

Mentally shaking herself free of random musing, Jean spared a glance for the slim man in black standing next to her. He would driving the special van they had prepared for Rogue, one made with bars of adamantium incorporated into the steel frame, while Jean ensured that Jenny arrived safely back on mansion grounds. She wasn’t a monster, after all. She wouldn’t really let the child be hurt.

A flash of white caught Jean’s eye, and then Rogue was landing in front of her. The two women glared at each other for several tense seconds before Rogue smiled reassuringly at Jenny.

“Everything is gonna be fine, sweetheart. You’ll be going back to the school in just a few minutes. Isn’t that right, Dr. Grey?” Rogue’s tone went from sweet to hard as her eyes narrowed again.

“Of course, Rogue. We just need you to climb into the back of our van,” Jean said, gesturing elegantly towards the stark white vehicle.

Rogue raised an eyebrow at her, an unconscious mimic of Logan that stabbed Jean as a reminder of all she had lost and all Rogue still had. “How do Ah know that you will return Jenny if Ah get in there?” she asked suspiciously.

“Jenny isn’t really the one we want, Rogue. We have no use for her. She will be safely left just inside the gate to find her way back to the mansion,” Jean promised.

Rogue looked at Jenny again. “Do you think you will be able to get from the gate to the house, Jenny?” she asked kindly.

Jenny nodded, her gaze still screaming even if she couldn’t with Jean’s hand still fixed firmly over her mouth. Jean smiled tightly down at her as well, but that seemed to frighten the child even more. A quick frown replaced the smile.

“Fine, Ah’ll do it,” Rogue said, pressing her full lips into a thin line as she looked at the van, its back doors wide open with Jean’s associate waiting to one side. Jean suppressed a gleeful laugh as the younger woman strode over and jumped inside.

Jean pulled Jenny to the passenger side of the van as the back doors were slammed shut behind Rogue. She pushed the girl up onto the wide bench seat and then followed her. She looked at the man now sitting behind the wheel and nodded. He inclined his head slightly and then started the car. Jean shot a quick look over her shoulder through the adamantium barred window that separated the back of the van from the front seat. Rogue glared back her silently, which only increased her joy.

Five minutes later they dropped Jenny off at the gate as promised. Once the child was out of the car and safely past the wrought iron gate Jean’s driver sped away. They had a short window of time to get away before the Professor find out what happened and start looking. By that time, Jean intended for the three of them to be safely miles away.

“They will come after me, you know,” Rogue said softly from the back, confidence dripping with every syllable.

Jean simply smiled as she remained facing forward. “I’m planning on it.”

Rogue crouched in a corner of the van and planned. Jean knew of her newer abilities, which meant that she had probably ensured that the vehicle was one Rogue wouldn’t break out of easily. Fair enough. She would conserve her strength for whatever came next, especially now that Jenny was safe. There would probably be a chance to escape when they reached whatever their destination was. They would have to let her out of the van at some point. She would need to strike then. She didn’t dare make any more definite plans, however, since she had no idea whether or not Jean was listening in on her thoughts.

“Of course I am, Rogue dear,” Jean commented casually

Rogue glared through the barred window separating them at the red hair shining through. If only Ah had Scott’s mutation, she thought, not caring if Jean heard her.

“What, you never lost your precious control around him? I guess the sex wasn’t that great,” Jean said, flashing a smirk back at her.

“Oh, no, it was fantastic. Ah’m just that good now,” Rogue shot back. She watched in satisfaction as Jean paled and then faced forward again.

Suddenly the van stopped moving forward. Since Rogue knew there weren’t any stoplights so close to the mansion, she wondered where they were. Surely this wasn’t their final destination. It was much too close to any hope of Rogue’s rescue, and whatever plan Jean might have, Rogue doubted that she wanted any attempts to occur before she had Rogue more secured.

As the van shut off, Rogue turned to the back doors and braced herself. She would probably only have seconds, and she had to make them count.

When one of the doors popped open, Rogue rushed through it. A large hand grabbed her right arm before she could launch herself into the air, though. A flash of red to her left and then a soft cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth. A sickening sweet smell engulfed her, and she tried not to breathe even as she pushed them away. It was too late, though, and Rogue felt herself sliding into a dark oblivion before she could stagger more than one step forward.

---

Logan was finishing off his last target and about to head toward the cowering mutant couple the larger man had been about to attack when Xavier’s voice echoed in his head.

X-Men, we have a situation at home. Mop up and head back. The other man’s mental voice was tense. Several scenarios flashed through his head as he thought of those left at the mansion: the Professor, Rogue, and the children. Nothing his mind came up with was reassuring. He looked around wildly, taking in the other X-Men helping members of the mutant group who were first attacked towards the Blackbird. None of the assailants were still standing, which was all Logan needed to know. He turned back to the couple nearby and gestured.

“C’mon, we’re getting you out of here,” he said gruffly. The couple hesitated only briefly before the yellow-skinned man grabbed the hand of the woman who had recently been throwing lightning bolts around like javelins. They followed the other members of their group into the waiting plane. Logan stood by the hatch and took one final look around as his own teammates climbed aboard. When only Scott was left outside of the plane, they stared at each other for a moment, challenge in every line of both of their bodies and glaring from Logan’s eyes before they both stalked forward and up the ramp at the same time.

Logan spent the half hour flight back purposefully not thinking about what could have gone wrong. If he let himself think about it, he knew he would probably start rampaging through the plane out of sheer rage, which wouldn’t help. The situation called for every ounce of control he possessed, but somehow he kept from killing anyone for looking at him wrong until they were landing in the special hangar underneath the mansion’s basketball court.

Xavier was waiting to meet them as they stepped off the plane. He had a word of welcome for the mutants, an older student rubbing sleep out of her eyes ready to take them to guest rooms to get some rest, and eyes full of worry that Logan zeroed in on. He’d been expecting Rogue. He’d been expecting uproar with panicked students racing into the underground bunkers that were more secure than any bomb shelter. He saw neither. That set his nerves even closer to the edge of rage, close to the point where he’d be jumping back into the Blackbird and taking off whether or not the hangar doors had slid open yet.

The Professor must have noticed Logan’s state. Hell, a blind person probably would have noticed it, let alone someone so attuned to the mental state of everyone surrounding him the way that Xavier was. “Rogue has been taken,” he said, his clipped voice betraying the tension his mental one had conveyed earlier.

“How?” Logan and Scott spoke at once and didn’t even bother to glance at each other as they focused on the Professor.

Xavier shook his head. “It…it was Jean,” he admitted. “Somehow she snuck into the house without my noticing and took Jenny.” There was a general outcry at that. “She left Rogue a note, apparently. Once Jenny returned, I woke several of the older students. They found this,” he said, holding out a smooth white piece of paper with a crease down the middle. Scott reached for it, but Logan snatched it away first. His eyes scanned the words through a red haze. When he finished he crumpled the paper as his hands fisted.

Scott cleared his throat pointedly, so Logan threw the paper at him. “We’re going after her.” It wasn’t a question. He knew no one else would argue with him despite the energy they had all just expended.

Xavier shook his head, and Logan stared at him incredulously. Calm down, Logan.

“By the time Jenny returned to the mansion and I got down to Cerebro, I was unable to find her. Jean planned this very carefully. Rogue is most likely unconscious. I will have to wait until she regains consciousness to locate her,” the Professor explained. He was attempting to radiate his usual calm, but Logan saw through the cracks in his armor to the deep concern underneath.

“I can track her,” he said desperately. There had to be a way. Scott nodded frantically, apparently forgetting that he hated Logan in his need to rescue Rogue.

Again Xavier shook his head. “Jean knows your abilities as well as she knows mine, Logan. Remember that she provided your medical care whenever it was needed. She will have planned to exploit your weaknesses as much as she did mine. You will not be able to pick up any trail if my guess is correct. She will have taken to the air at the first opportunity.”

Scott dropped the note and ran his hand through his hair, the scent of his frustration and fear overpowering that of the others in Logan’s senses. “There has to be something we can do, Professor,” he ground out, echoing Logan’s thoughts eerily.

“We will wait. I will scan with Cerebro until I find her, but even I can’t stay permanently attached to the thing. As for the rest of you, get what sleep you can so that you will be ready to face whatever comes next,” Xavier advised as he turned his wheelchair and headed out the door into the cool white corridor.

Logan followed him. Like it or not, he would wait outside of the door to Cerebro until he got his answer. He felt another presence next to him as he followed the Professor. A quick glance showed Scott, his jaw set with determination, pacing beside him. At first Logan wanted to shove him away, deny him the chance to be the first to know when Xavier found Rogue. That wouldn’t help Rogue, though, so he turned back with a growl and continued his deliberate stalk through the hall.

The air was cool and dry. This was the first thing Rogue noticed as she swam up from the deep black sea that had engulfed her. The second thing that caught her attention was how dry her tongue was, thick and swollen in her mouth. Of course Jean would have planned for a way to keep moving her, Rogue thought grimly as the memory of a sweet-smelling cloth covering her nose and mouth floated to the top of the swirling quagmire of her brain.

Her eyes felt sore and gritty, but Rogue knew that it was important to get the lay of the land, so to speak, as soon as possible. She cracked one eyelid open and then the other. Her small, windowless-room was lit by a single fluorescent light suspended in the middle of the ceiling. She was stretched out on a flimsy cot, Rogue saw as she raised herself up on her elbows to help with her recognizance of the room. Unfortunately there was very little to see, which meant that there was little here that she could use in an escape attempt.

Since her groggy senses were starting to regain some clarity and focus, Rogue stood up and began stretching to help push that change along a little. She ran a hand over her belly, but the slight swell was still there. She felt a little light-headed from the relief that nothing felt overtly wrong to her.

“We’re gonna get out of here, baby,” she whispered as she looked around. “Ah just have to figure out how.”

The walls were thick white-washed cinderblocks. Rogue could break those, but it would take time. Her best bet was waiting until someone came to feed her or collect her, then. With that in mind, she sat back down on her cot to conserve her strength.

As she reached up to scratch an odd itch on her neck, Rogue realized she was wearing some kind of metal collar. She ran her fingers over it carefully. There was a hinged seam on one side, a depression that felt like a key hole next to the seam on the other. The metal was strangely smooth, giving no indication why they wanted her to wear it.

A sound outside the door caught her attention just before the handle turned, admitting two men in black uniforms. “You’re coming with us,” the taller, dark-haired one said while the blond stared at her with a look that made her hide a shiver.

“Like hell Ah am,” Rogue said, lifting her chin and staying right where she was.

“One way or the other, you’re coming with us. We can do this nicely or not. It’s up to you,” the first man said. The second edged closer, an eager look in his eye that Rogue didn’t like at all.

Suddenly the blond made a grab for her arm. She tried to pull away, but it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. When his grip didn’t let up, she kicked at him. Again, there wasn’t as much force behind the move as she expected. He didn’t go flying into the wall, just grunted and kept his hold on her arm.

Panic starting to well in her, Rogue tried to turn on her skin in order to give these two a shock. It wasn’t there. The ability that had been with her so long, that she had fought so hard to control, was no longer accessible. The first guard laughed at the way her green eyes widened in shock.

“Just so you know, you won’t be able to use your perversion here. Now come on,” he said, grabbing her other arm and helping the blond, who still hadn’t spoken, pull her from the safety of her cot and towards the door.

Rogue tried to fight them all the way down the dim corridor, but it was no use. None of her power was available. What had Jean gotten her into? Did the woman hate her so much?

---

Logan leaned against the wall outside of the Cerebro chamber, deliberately not looking at Scott as the younger man paced back and forth in front of the door.

“That’s not going to help anything,” he commented, ignoring how much he wanted to let loose the claws and attack the nearest object, which could be the door, the walls, or Scott for all he cared.

Scot ignored him and kept pacing. Finally, they heard the sound of the round metal door opening. The two men turned quickly to face Professor Xavier as he rolled out. The look on the old man’s face scared Logan more than anything he could remember since that night when Rogue caught him and Jean in the kitchen.

“I have located Rogue. I have the coordinates, but…I need you to be careful, Scott. Jean did not put up any resistance to my probes. I was expecting at least a token effort, but there was none. I did find traces that suggested she was hiding herself from me and is at the same location as Rogue, but I find it strange that she would hide herself and not her victim,” Xavier said, a deep frown forming between his dark eyes.

Scott frowned as well. “Does she want us to find Rogue? Why? Why take her if she’s going to make it so easy to rescue her?”

Logan spoke up. “It’s a trap for us, too. She set a trap for Rogue because she feels like Rogue stole everything she wanted, and now she’s setting a trap for us because she probably feels like we abandoned her in favor of Rogue.”

Scott glared at him. “How do you know?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I lived with the woman for three months. The few times we spoke, all she could talk about was how unfair it was, how no one wanted to give us a second chance, the benefit of the doubt, et cetera. I stopped listening for a while because it was all the same thing, over and over. It got damn annoying. Then there was the way she reacted to the news of the baby.”

“Jean left before we made our announcement!”

Shaking his head, Logan told them, “Jean found Rogue’s test results. I found her crying in the med lab. She was talking crazy, but at the time I wasn’t feeling too stable myself. I think she left right after that, but she knew.”

Scott went pale. He asked the Professor, “Would she hurt Rogue? The baby?”

Xavier shook his head slowly. “I am no longer sure what exactly Jean is capable of. It is possible that she wants to exact her revenge on Rogue. She always was able to hold a grudge if she felt slighted as a student,” he replied uncertainly.

“We have to get Rogue before Jean does something to her that we can’t fix. Trap or no trap, I’m going there to get her. The rest of the X-Men can come with me or not,” Logan said firmly. “Where is she?”

The Professor sighed and told him the coordinates. He looked at Scott. “I will not force the team to go into a trap, even knowingly,” he told the team leader.

Scott raised his own eyebrows. “I doubt we’ll have to do any forcing,” was all he said.

Logan almost hated to admit it, but Scott was right. Within minutes of being called to the briefing room, the entire team was ready to go, with the exception of Ororo and Bobby who would be staying to guard the children. Logan was the first one to stride up the ramp to the Blackbird, and he stared unseeing through the window as they lifted off. All of his attention was focused on the mission and the woman he couldn’t lose.

When the two men pulled Rogue through the iron doorway into what looked suspiciously like an exam room complete with a paper-covered gurneys, racks of equipment with blinking lights, and trays of shiny sharp instruments, she expected to see Jean waiting for her. The older woman was there, but she was stretched out on one of the gurneys. Jean appeared unconscious, and she wore a metal collar around her throat that was probably similar to the one that Rogue wore. A purple bruise was beginning to spread on her temple.

A tall blond man in a white lab coat stepped forward out of the shadows and smiled kindly at Rogue. “I see you recognize your friend,” he stated softly.

Rogue glared at him. “That woman is no friend of mine.”

The man nodded slowly. “I can understand that. It’s a pity, though,” he said in an offhand manner while gesturing to her two guards to guide Rogue to the closest gurney, two down from Jean.

“Why is it a pity that the traitor over there isn’t my friend?” Rogue asked.

He gestured again, and Rogue knew he wanted her to get up onto the gurney which stood at hip height to her. Glaring at him, Rogue complied. She knew it was important for her baby that she not give these goons too many excuses to abuse her, but it went against the grain to give in. Once she was sitting on the edge, the man in the lab coat used one latex-gloved hand to push her shoulder, not roughly, so that she laid back.

Finally he answered her question. “We hoped that using your…Dr. Grey’s safety as an incentive for good behavior would allow us to proceed with a minimum of fuss from you. If that is not the case, then we have no further need for her. She will be eliminated because her abilities are too dangerous to allow her continued existence. Telepaths have proven very resistant to our procedures,” he said calmly as he began rearranging items from the nearest tray.

Suddenly Rogue understood. “You’re with the same people who took Carol Danvers hostage, aren’t you?” The other woman’s weakened memories remembered a similar set up, a similar doctor untold years prior. At some point he had gained lines around his eyes and forehead.

The blond man smiled thinly. “Yes, you took out what was one of our most powerful weapons, Marie. We want it back.” The simple truth echoing in his words chilled Rogue to the bone almost as much as his casual use of her name.

Rogue scowled at him to hide the tendril of fear running along her spine. “Why are you telling me all of this? Why didn’t you just leave me unconscious and do whatever it is you plan on doing? It’s not like Ah could have stopped you with this collar thing on,” she said bitterly as she yanked at the metal circling her throat.

He caught her hand and laid it next to her side in an absent-minded way. “If only it were that simple, my dear. You see, in order for the control chip I will be placing in your brain to work correctly, your mutation has to be active at the exact moment of insertion. Thus, you must be awake and consciously not controlling your own mutation as well as those which you have absorbed. I hoped to use Dr. Grey’s safety as your guarantee that you would comply with every requirement of the procedure, but since that particular threat is of no use, I am left with no choice but to assure you that should you become…difficult, your collar will be turned back on so that I may perform an abortion with all due haste.”

Rogue blanched and brought her hands to cover her stomach. “How did you…?”

Chuckling harshly, he shook his head. “Dr. Grey was prone to babble on and on about your little bundle of joy and how it was going to ruin her life. Now, are you going to be a good patient and cooperate, or shall we start the abortion procedures?” He picked up a scalpel and stared at her impassively as if he didn’t particularly care which choice she made.

Before Rogue could reply, an explosion rocked the room. The two security guards glanced at each other and then the doctor. Frowning, the older man waved them out the door. He looked at Rogue.

“Perhaps Dr. Grey was correct and some of your friends have decided to come and play. While I have no doubt as to our abilities to defeat them, I believe we shall take some precautions.”

---

Logan and Scott jumped out of the Blackbird at the same time, before the ramp had even lowered completely. The others were quick to follow, leaving Hank at the helm for a quick getaway. When Logan saw how willing Scott was to open holes in walls of the dilapidated concrete building that was their target, he held back just enough that he wouldn’t be incinerated in the process. Men in dark blue security uniforms began streaming through the holes, and that was when Logan’s fun began. Even as he let his claws slide into stomachs and ripped out intestines or slit the nearest throats, most of his attention was focused on getting inside and finding Rogue.

He was pushing through the nearest smoking hole, leaving a trail of bodies for his teammates to follow, when two more men came rushing towards it. Logan caught a whiff of Rogue’s sent on them and barreled into them, taking them to the ground with a hand around each throat.

“Where is she?” he snarled, satisfied when the tang of urine filled the air. Let them piss their pants, he thought, as long as they could point him in a direction.

One man went completely white and began babbling incoherently, but the other managed to point down the hall to Logan’s left. With a grunt he tossed them back to Colossus who caught them easily and held them in the air. Scott was on his heels as he raced through the twisting hall, but for once Logan welcomed his presence. The more firepower they could bring to bear in order to get Rogue out, the better in his book.

Logan followed Rogue’s sent through several sets of doors, finally ending at a locked metal door. A sharp glance at Scott spoke volumes; a quick lance of red light and the doorknob and lock were nothing more than molten metal. Logan kicked in the door with two swift jabs of his foot and rushed into the room.

At the far end, Rogue stood over a terrified-looking older blond man, a scalpel in one hand and a smile on her face. She barely looked over her shoulder long enough to register their presence as she waved the sharp steel blade in the air menacingly.

“Did you really think that Ah wouldn’t be able to take you even without my powers, little man?” she taunted the cowering figure in front of her. “You’re soft, you know that? Too much time practicing your bedside manner, Ah think.”

“Rogue?” Logan growled.

“Not now, Wolverine. Ah’m playing,” she muttered, turning her body just slightly to finally acknowledge Logan and Scott.

That was when the blond man attacked, jumping up and lashing out at Rogue with a well-placed fist to the abdomen. Before Logan could cross the room and tackle him, the man pulled a syringe out of his white coat and stuck it into Rogue’s neck, pushing the plunger harshly so that the vicious yellow liquid emptied into her. He was laughing even as Logan’s claws slashed into him, severing his arm. The laughter stopped when a second swipe of the claws took out his throat.

Logan turned in time to see Rogue sway and then crumple to the ground. A hoarse cry echoed in the room as he bent to lift her convulsing body into his arms. A wet rush down his arm smelled of blood, and Logan began to fear the worst. He turned to Scott, who was staring from them to Jean, and barked, “We have to get her out of here!”

Scott’s lips firmed, and he nodded towards Jean. “Yeah, but we can’t leave her, either. She’s caused too much trouble to be left on her own.” He reluctantly bent to lift his unconscious former fiancé and followed Logan, Rogue cradled securely in his own arms, as he ran past fallen guards to one of the building’s new “exits.”

A searing pain in her midsection tore Rogue out of the blackness this time. She struggled against the bands holding her in place, whimpering, but an all-too-familiar voice just hushed her. A part of her realized that she was in friendly hands, but the agony that she felt overwhelmed her good sense, and she screamed when another wave of pain hit her.

“Rogue, you must try to calm down. Deep breaths, please,” she heard Hank say. She really wanted to listen to him but just couldn’t. He continued, “We need to cut this collar off of you, my dear, and there’s really only one way. But your skin will offer no protection until this collar is off, or so Dr. Grey tells us. Just hold as still as you can, please.”

Rogue couldn’t ignore the pleading in his voice. There was something truly wrong, between that tone and the pain she felt. So she did her best to hold still, even when a warm hand she didn’t want to recognize grabbed her jaw to steady her head and she heard a well-known snikt. She wanted to scream, but in moments it was too late. The sound of metal slicing was followed immediately by the rush of her skin pulling much needed power from the man holding her face.

He had known this would happen. As soon as he carried her onto the jet he was telling Hank that it had to happen. Rogue needed his healing, and she needed it fast if she was going to keep the baby. Hank hadn’t argued; without knowing what was in the serum Rogue had been injected with, an overall healing mutation probably was her best bet, he agreed.

Rogue groaned, broke through straps that were no longer enough to hold her, and pushed away the hand clamped against her cheek. It was too late. He was filling her, his mutation healing the damage of the past hours, changing the pain in her abdomen to a dull throbbing and then nothing, erasing the bruises on her arms from her captors’ ungentle handling. His emotions also flowed into her mind, his worry, his love, his guilt and grief at the actions which had torn them apart. God, he felt so guilty.

“Damn you, Hank,” Rogue choked out, finally opening her eyes to glare at the blue doctor hovering over her. She squinted across the narrow aisle where Scott was actually helping Logan up from where he was slumped against the bulkhead of what be the Blackbird. Jean huddled on the floor in a corner almost out of her sight, arms wrapped around her drawn up knees. “Damn you all,” she said bitterly. She turned her head to stare at the blank bulkhead next to her.

Hank cleared his throat. “Rogue, I must examine…” he began.

“It can wait,” she said shortly, refusing to look at him. “Whether it worked or not, it can wait until we get home.”

She felt more than saw Hank nod. “Very well,” he said quietly. He didn’t move from her side, but she heard the sound of Scott and Logan staggering towards the seats behind her head.

Kitty must be flying the plane, she mused. Her friend had much less finesse at the controls than anyone else qualified except Scott, who still had issues landing sometimes. It was easy to focus on little, current details like that. Much easier than examining the thoughts and feelings that had just raced into her mind, very much easier than considering what had just been given to her and perhaps her unborn child. She could hear Jubilee snapping gum like she always did when she was irritated or agitated. Her friends must have been so worried. Rogue knew she sure as hell had been. Piotr was tapping metal fingers against his seat’s leader-covered arm. It was a sound that usually drove her nuts when they were on missions together. That he was still metal after a mission was another sign of how this whole mess must have affected everyone else.

Scott and Logan were actually talking to each other, in low voices that she tried her damnedest not to hear despite still having echoes of Logan’s mutation running rampant through her system. She didn’t want to know what they could possibly be saying to each other in such a civil manner. Since when were they civil?

Since you were captured, darlin’, Logan’s voice in her head whispered.

Shut UP! Rogue mentally yelled at him. She closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could to wall him out, to forget everything that she had just learned.

How could he possibly ask her to forgive him, even silently? How could he think the she ever would? No matter what he did, no matter how many times he healed her and she absorbed him, Rogue was sure she would never be able to trust him again. Logan seemed to be the type who could feel one way one minute and another way the next. There was no reason to think that he had changed at all.

Not fair.

This time Rogue ignored his voice. She concentrated on her anger at him, and Jean for getting her into this latest mess, at whoever was behind Carol’s one-time capture. The anger was a familiar emotion, one she knew how to handle. Trying to deal with strange urges to forgive, to be held and comforted after her ordeal, that was something she wasn’t ready for yet. She doubted she ever would be.

---

Logan brooded in his seat during the last legs of the return trip to the mansion. He knew he had done the right thing, but the taste of necessity was still slightly bitter. It would have been so easy to let the miscarriage continue. He had actually considered it for a half-second as he carried Rogue through the smoke-filled hallways. Any such consideration was halted swiftly when he realized that he heard five heartbeats in their group, not just four, and the fifth heartbeat was behaving erratically. It was faster, and at first that seemed okay, but then the beats lost their rhythm. That was when he realized that he was hearing Rogue’s baby’s heartbeat. If he had ever heard it before, he had ignored it or pushed it away as his imagination, but there was no denying it at that point.

He couldn’t let it die after that, not if there was half a chance. Sure, it was part Scott, but it was also part Rogue, and losing her baby would damage her horribly. He had to do whatever he could to prevent that. In the split second it had taken him to acknowledge that, Logan had made up his mind. So he had explained to Hank what was needed after a quick interrogation of the now-conscious Jean Grey, and the doctor had agreed that it seemed to be the only course of action that might save both Rogue and the child.

Of course, part of him hoped that she would acknowledge how much he had helped her, would admit that he had saved her child’s life, but his more realistic side knew that wasn’t likely. She had hardly said a word since the healing, none of which were directed to him. He hadn’t even gotten a “thank you.” Logan guessed that she was pretty pissed that he had tricked her into absorbing his healing again since that meant she also absorbed his thoughts and emotions. He had very little doubt what she was thinking about any of it.

After what felt like an eternity they finally arrived back at the mansion. Logan stood up and turned towards Rogue. “Do you need me to carry you to the medlab?”

She turned frosty eyes to his. “Ah’m fine,” she said. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the built-in bunk.

Scott stepped forward to stand next to Logan. “Are you sure?” he asked. Logan saw that his body was tensed from unexpressed emotions, and he reeked of fear, guilt, and panic.

Rogue snapped at him as well. “Ah’m fine. Ah’ll go with Hank, find out what there is to find out, and then Ah’ll let you know.”

Scott’s already-pale cheeks gained a new shade of white, and Logan almost felt sorry for him. He slapped the other man’s shoulder. “C’mon, Cyke. Let’s get Jean somewhere nice and secure,” he said. They both turned to the woman glaring in the corner. Logan could tell that her anger was an act; she was scared, probably of what they were going to do to her. He liked that. He wanted Jean scared, very badly.

Scott nodded, reached down to grab Jean’s arm, and pulled her up. Logan grabbed her other arm, but before he moved too far away he listened for that almost-too-fast heartbeat. He could still hear it thrumming away like a little hummingbird. The sound was strangely reassuring. It made him believe that maybe Rogue would make it through this ordeal alright. Maybe they all would. Except Jean. His face hardened as he helped Scott drag her off the plane and towards one of the secure subterranean rooms that could be used as cells.

Once the two men had Jean settled into her new accommodations with the door firmly closed behind her and locked by voice command, they both turned towards the medlab. However, neither actually took a step. Instead, they looked sideways, sizing each other up. Since Scott looked like he was trying to figure out how to say something, Logan waited.

Finally, Scott frowned and said, “Thank you for what you did back there. I don’t know if it’s going to help, but I’m glad you did it, even if Rogue isn’t thrilled to have more of you in her head.”

Impressed that Scott was actually able to admit that Logan’s help might have saved the baby, Logan felt more comfortable making his own admission. “It was for her,” he said shortly. Seeing Scott’s mouth tighten, he relented slightly and said, “I could still hear the baby’s heartbeat when we landed. I think they’re both going to be fine.”

Logan was amazed to see Scott smile at him, a wide, happy smile. “Thanks, again.”

Logan nodded, turned, and walked in the opposite direction from the medlab. As much as he wanted to be with Rogue just then, he knew she might have no qualms killing him on sight. He decided to resist the temptation to see her, to reassure himself that she was physically recovered from her ordeal. His senses had told him that she was, and he was going to have to trust that for now. If he wanted to win her back, he thought he should give her some time to adjust to what she had unwillingly pulled from him. It wouldn’t help to go rushing in and ruin such a golden opportunity. This was the time in the hunt to wait for his prey to come to him.

Rogue waited patiently as Hank set up the heartbeat monitor. She felt particularly vulnerable reclined on the bed in the med lab, her shirt hiked up and her waistband pushed down so that the swell of her stomach was exposed, but she was confident what the results of the test would be. She could hear the soft, quick sound of a third heartbeat in the room with them. Even though she would have given almost anything not to have Logan in her head again, a nice fresh version to torment her, she was so relieved by that sound that she was able to push the resentment to one side for the moment and just revel in her knowledge that the crazy doctor had not won. Her baby lived. She just knew it.

The door to the medlab slid open, and Scott hovered apprehensively in the doorway as if unsure if he should join her. Rogue summoned the strength to smile at him reassuringly. It was surprisingly hard, as if he hadn’t just risked his life, the teams, all to save her. She still wasn’t sure if she forgave him for bringing Logan along for the fun, but then a small part of her admitted that Scott probably wouldn’t have been strong enough to keep Logan away.

Scott strode over to her side when she smiled, and then Hank joined them. Hank smeared a cool gel on her stomach wordlessly. The monitor looked so small in his large blue hands as he gripped the wand and began to run it along her gel-covered skin. The rubbery plastic tip dug into her flesh slightly as he moved it, a distraction from the static pouring out of the microphone and the renewed growling in her head.

The sound of a quick swishing, its rhythm matching the beats Rogue could hear with her sensitive ears, filled the room. Hank smiled at her, and Rogue managed a more genuine smile for him than she had Scott. Speaking of her friend, he didn’t look nearly as surprised or relieved as she expected. Rogue wasn’t able to question him just then because Hank spoke up.

“The baby’s heartbeat sounds strong, Rogue. I think there is nothing to worry about for now, although I would appreciate it if you would come back for a check in the morning as well. First, I think you deserve to get some rest,” he said as he used a soft cloth to wipe away the blue gel on her stomach.

Rogue nodded. “Ah’ll do that, Hank. Thank you,” she said. Once he had wiped away all the goop, she rearranged her clothes and slid off of the bed. She hugged the big blue doctor impulsively, and he returned the embrace gently with a pat on her back.

Rogue strode out, ignoring Scott and Hank’s handshake and the way Scott almost ran to catch up with her. She stared straight ahead, not daring to say any of the things she wanted to just then.

“I’m glad the baby’s okay,” Scott said cautiously behind her.

Rogue stopped and whirled around, glaring at him. “Did you ask him to do it?” She knew he hadn’t. Of course she knew that. But he sounded so…so Scott that she just had to pick a fight.

Scott raised his hands up defensively. “Of course not! He suggested it before I could say anything, anyway,” he muttered.

Rogue closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to remind herself that she was safe, the baby was safe, and that was all that should matter. He was in her head, though, a gloating presence that made her want to reach out and punch something, preferably something warm and squishy. Since the only nearby candidate was Scott, her friend and the father of her child who probably couldn’t help how happy he was with the outcome of the whole fiasco, she couldn’t do that. So she just breathed.

“Rogue?” Scott sounded worried. Good, she thought.

“Why do you have to be so damn happy about this? Any of this? Ah don’t want any more of him in me, in any way, and yet you were all so eager to let him touch me thinking Ah wouldn’t have any control over my mutation!” she accused him irrationally, her eyes popping open.

Scott glowered at her behind his glasses. “So you wanted the baby to die, is that it? What about you? Did you want to die? Would that have been fucking worth it, Rogue? What cost should we have put on your life? Let me tell you, you are my best friend right now, and that baby is mine as much as it is yours. I don’t count any price high enough to keep you both alive and safe, not my life or any other X-Man’s, not my mind, and not even yours. We both know you can get past this, but you can’t get past being dead, and I don’t think you’d get past losing that baby!” he shouted, pointing at her barely rounded stomach.

Rogue felt the tears well in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. She knew he was right. In her heart she knew it. Her head howled at the unfairness of being saddled with more of the man she wanted to avoid, pieces too recent, too fresh to ignore easily. How could she hate him, when he had given her the gift of her child’s life, almost as much as if he had fathered it himself. Logan was slowly easing his way back into her life, and it felt like there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Without another word to Scott, Rogue turned and ran down the hall. She almost fell into the elevator as the door whisked open, and she slammed her hand onto the button that would force the door closed behind her so that he couldn’t follow. Then she ripped into the control panel, pulling wires recklessly as the tube ground to a halt. Finally she was able to slump to the ground, tears streaming as she buried her face into her bare hands.

---

Logan grew worried when he didn’t hear Rogue come up the stairs to her room. He paced the small square of brown carpet in front of his bed, back and forth as he stared at the door. Something was wrong. He was sure of it. It couldn’t be the baby. That heartbeat had been too strong, just as strong as before Rogue was shot up with whatever was in that syringe.

Logan, the Professor’s voice echoed in his mind. We need your help with the elevator. It appears to have…malfunctioned.

Logan left his room, almost ran down the stairs, and stopped short when he saw Scott standing at the hall entrance to the elevator. The entry was a black hole in the dim light, and Scott just stood there with his fists clenched. Logan approached him carefully, picking up the scent of rage and fear emanating in waves from the other man.

Scott must have heard him anyway. “She stopped the fucking elevator,” he said wearily, the tone belying the anger Logan could still smell on him. The language shocked him a little. He wasn’t aware One-Eye knew words like that.

“What? Why?”

“I…might have yelled at her. Only a little!” Scott said defensively when Logan growled. He added quietly, “She was still angry that we let you touch her.”

Logan’s eyebrow shot up. “But the baby’s okay, right?”

Scott nodded. “Hank’s going to do what tests he can, with her skin, but yes. The baby seems to be fine. I just…I’m not sure she thinks it was worth it.”

Logan’s eyes clenched shut as the meaning hit him. She hated him so much that she would rather have let her baby die than be touched by him to save it? Despair washed over him. Had he really lost so much to her with one stupid act? Couldn’t she see that he was trying to make up for it the only way he knew how? He hung his head and ran a hand through his hair.

The sound of wheels on polished wood broke through the brooding of both men.

“Logan? Scott? Haven’t you got the elevator working yet?”

They snapped around at Xavier’s question and then looked at each other. Logan realized that they had both been focused so much on how they felt about the woman stuck in the elevator that they hadn’t even bothered trying to get her out. Scott blushed, and Logan felt a little satisfaction that he wasn’t so easily unmanned until he realized that his own face was growing hot.

“I’ll pull the damn thing up,” Logan ground out, reaching into the darkness to find the cable attached to the elevator tube.

Scott and the Professor were quiet as he worked, slowly inching up the elevator until the top cleared the bottom of the doorframe. Then Scott stepped forward to grip the lip of the door even as Logan let go of the cable to grab the same area. Together they pulled the thing all the way up. Logan forced open the door and looked in.

Rogue laid on the smooth metal floor, her hair pooled over her shoulders with her face buried in her arms. Her even breathing told him that she had fallen asleep, and the salty tang to the air revealed that she had cried herself to sleep. He stepped back wordlessly and gestured to Scott. He willed himself not to turn back, not to scoop her up into his arms. Remembering his resolve from earlier, he wondered if she would ever come to him of her own accord after all. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure that she would. Logan did the only thing he could. He walked away.

Rogue sat on a stone bench in a strange garden. It wasn’t one she remembered, although it might have been one from a stolen memory. In front of her was a bed of sand carefully raked into swirling patterns that she found soothing even though she couldn’t seem to find the end of one and the start of another. Large rocks occasionally made the patterns flow around them. It was the most relaxing thing she had ever seen, and Rogue let her nose fill with the dry, fresh air around her, the sound of the light wind gently caressing her ears even as she felt it brush the bare skin of her neck. She wore a simple white robe in a style she thought might be Japanese, which would probably explain the garden as well. She had seen pictures of gardens like this.

The crunch of a footstep on the loose gravel behind her caused Rogue to turn her head slightly so that she could glance out of the corner of her eye. Logan walked towards her, unhurried, his chest bare above the dark pants he wore. It seemed like here she could admire the muscles covered in smooth gleaming skin without the well of bitterness and rage which seemed to accompany the sight of him these days, so Rogue took advantage and drank in the sight. Logan stepped over to her and stood just behind the bench, his eyes focused on the sand instead of her. Rogue found that she didn’t mind, and she turned her own gaze back to the sand as well.

“It was never about you, Marie. It was never your fault. It was mine. I wasn’t ready,” he said softly. The atmosphere pushed down on them so that any louder voice would have been a shout.

Rogue thought she should be protesting. Wasn’t that what they all said? “It isn’t you. It’s me.” Only she thought that maybe, just maybe, in this case it was the truth. Logan had so many demons inside of him. Even her glimpses into his mind when she stole his powers to heal herself had never revealed all of him to her. Maybe he was still trying to figure himself out.

Even if that was the case…Rogue sighed. “You could have run, you know. Isn’t that what you do?” Well, maybe she could get a little of her own fire in, even there in that tranquil spot.

She felt more than saw his shrug. “I didn’t want to leave you, the school, any of it. I wanted to find out what I could have here. I was selfish. We can all be selfish sometimes, you know. I’m not perfect. I was trying to figure things out, and I took the easy way out instead of looking at what really mattered to me in the long run.”

“Did you have to hurt me in the process, Logan?” she asked, her fingers knotted together in her lap.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think you would ever find out. It should have been a one night stand, or at least a way to judge what I wanted out of the situation. I’m still a person, and I do have right to choose who I’ll be with, darlin’. We weren’t exactly dating, you know.” He actually sounded amused, and Rogue realized that all along she had only been thinking of how much she had wanted him and never if he wanted her just as badly.

There in that garden, and maybe only there, Rogue was able to admit that she had set out her priorities wrong all those months ago. Had she gone too fast in her pursuit of him, driven him to do things that he might not have otherwise? Could it be that he had done the same thing to Jean? Could she, Rogue, have started a domino effect that ruined four perfectly good lives? For what?

Happiness. That’s all she had ever wanted. Now she realized that she needed to want it for him, too, and for Scott and Storm and all her other friends. Maybe she even needed to want it for Jean. If that was her goal, even above her own happiness, could she undo the harm she had done?

“Ah’m sorry,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek unnoticed.

Even though he was behind her, Logan seemed to know that the tear was there. He caught it with a brush of his finger against her skin, and then his whole hand cupped her cheek. Rogue allowed herself to lean into it, accepting the comfort he offered.

“I won’t say nothin’ to be sorry about. We both have things to be sorry about, I guess. But we can forgive each other. It doesn’t have to be just hatred forever between us. We were friends, once.”

Rogue reached up to place her bare hand over his. “Yes, we were,” she said as the sun slid below the edge of the stone wall surrounding the garden.


Rogue opened her eyes to darkness. At first she thrashed around, afraid that she was back in the little cell where she had been held, but the familiar smell of her room, vanilla and raspberry, soothed her even as she became aware of the slide of her silk sheets against her skin. Someone had stripped her down to her underwear and tucked her into bed, just the way she preferred with the end of her blanket tucked under her feet. It seemed to be the middle of the night since her white blinds would not have kept out the daylight for long. She sat up and ran a hand through her tousled hair.

The dream came back to her slowly but in excruciatingly vivid detail. What had she done? What had she allowed her anger to create inside of her, this well of poison that let her think, even for a moment, that the life of her child was a price worth paying to avoid contact with Logan? Rogue hoped that there was some way to fix the mess her mind had become. She was just afraid of what might fill the void that would be left if she let go over her anger, her hate and her pride.

---

Logan stared up into the darkness. Dawn would come soon, a new day that promised little different from most of his days lately. He wondered if he should care. Should he try to change things anymore? Would it be better if he just left?

A sound outside of his door caused him to tense. A footstep, then another, slowly approaching his room. There was caution, and then he caught her scent. He was sure she would pass by, so he told himself to relax. Only he couldn’t relax knowing that she was just on the other side of the thin wood panel.

Her footsteps stopped, and his head whipped around as he stared in disbelief. She had stopped on the other side of his door. He waited, wondering what she was doing. Was she going to attack him? Did she hate him so much?

The hesitant knock almost startled him. In an instant he was out of bed. He didn’t have to bother turning on a light to find clothes since his foot hit a pair of jeans crumpled on the floor. He jammed in first one foot, then the other. His hand fumbled with the zipper, but he was at least decent when he opened the door.

Rogue stood there staring up at him. Her green eyes were wide and glistened slightly, but she stood straight and proud in front of him. Green silk pajamas covered the skin that could be so deadly, but she might as well have been a queen for the way she held herself. He wasn’t sure what to say, but then he didn’t have to.

“Ah want to call a truce, Logan,” she said. One hand rose to settle over her stomach. “You saved me tonight, and you saved this child. Ah’ve been thinking about what happened, before, and…maybe Ah acted in ways Ah shouldn’t be too proud of, either.”

He could tell how much the words cost her by the way her eyes tightened just a little as she spoke. She meant the whole fiasco with Jean, didn’t she? The truth behind her words shone screamed at him through every sense. She honestly wanted to try to put the past behind them.

“Well?” she asked, snapping him out of the shock that had enveloped his brain.

Logan nodded slowly. “Alright. If that’s what you want, Rogue.”

She nodded firmly, almost as if she was convincing herself. “It’s what’s fair, and Ah owe you that now. Just…let’s try not to fuck up this time, okay?” She even smiled a little when she added the last bit.

Logan nodded. “Okay.”

“Well, Ah’m going back to bed now. Ah need my sleep. Good night, Logan,” she said quietly.

“Night, Rogue. Sleep well.” He began to turn back, his head still dazed by the past few moments.

“Marie.” The word was barely a whisper, but he caught it.

“What?” Could he have heard right? He searched the dimly lit hall, barely making out her shadowed form as she crept toward her room.

“Ah think Ah want my friends to call me Marie from now on.” Her door shut before he could say any more.

Logan closed his own door and leaned against it. He wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened. All he knew was that he had another chance. She was right, even if she didn’t know how much yet. He couldn’t afford to fuck up this time. It might be his last shot at what he now knew he wanted.

---

Rogue spent the next couple of days in bed recovering from her ordeal. As she lay there, friends brought mansion gossip as well as news of what was happening with Jean. Jubilee told her that the Professor was investigating whether they should press criminal charges or if he would be able to help her along with a trained psychologist. Ororo assured her that they would do everything they could to make sure that Jean paid for what she had done, former friend and team mate or not. Logan didn’t visit, but then Rogue thought that their new truce might be too fragile still to hold up under a get-well visit. Finally Scott appeared in the doorway. He looked exhausted and strained, much like Rogue felt despite the hours of bed rest.

“Hey there,” he said quietly from her doorway.

Rogue smiled at him a little. “Come on in and pull up a seat if you want. Seems like everyone’s stopping by to make sure I don’t go stir crazy stuck here in bed.”

He closed the door behind him and sat down in the arm chair Jubilee had pulled up next to her bed during her earlier visit. “How are you feeling?”

With an exasperated sigh she replied, “Ah’m fantastic. Ah’d be even better if Ah thought y’all would let me out of this bed sometime in the next century.”

With a chuckle he replied, “I don’t know about the next century, but how does tomorrow sound? The kids have been dealing with me as a substitute art teacher and, well, you know how great I am at art.” What an overstatement that was. She laughed just like he wanted as she remembered the day he’d stopped in her classroom for a moment only to be roped in to showing one of the kids how to draw something. Rogue had found an excuse to get him away before too much damage to the child’s appreciation of art was done, and then she’d had to show the student herself.

“Tomorrow sounds good,” she admitted with a smile for him. Then the smile slipped away, and she looked away and sighed. “Ah’m sorry about everything Ah said the other night. Ah’ve had a chance to do some thinking cooped up in here with nothing better to do, and maybe Ah’ve been wrong-headed over a lot of things lately. Ah expected everyone around me to be perfect when they’re just human—mutant or not. It’s time to grow up and admit that my opinions and feelings in things aren’t the only ones that matter. Ah think it’s even time to…forgive.” It was so difficult to admit aloud to him, the man who had helped her through so much of her pain. After a few moments of silence she turned back to find out his reaction and was surprised to see a small, sad smile on his face.

“I think forgiving will be easier for you than for me, but I also know that you’re right. What Logan did to save the baby, I can’t ever thank him enough for that. I know it made you angry, but it’s the truth.”

She nodded, “Ah know.” She took a deep breath. “Ah think Ah still love him, Scott, even after everything that happened. Ah just don’t know how to deal with him as anything other than a friend right now.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, Scott reached over to take her hand. “You’ll deal with it one day at a time, maybe a little slower now than you tried before, and eventually things will start to make sense,” he said with a shrug.

“How can you sound so sure?”

He frowned. “I’m not. Only I don’t think they can get much worse than they were the last few months, and if you’re ready to put the past behind you both and start over then that almost has to mean things will get better. And love isn’t something we can really control. It’s just something that we do. We love the people in our lives if we’re lucky, and I think that makes all of us better,” he replied slowly, as if he was still trying to work out why he felt the way he did about the situation.

Rogue glanced down at the slight swell of her stomach. “You’re not angry with me? Ah said Ah never wanted anything to do with him again.”

Scott squeezed her hand. “You’re still my best friend, and I’ve already told you I want you to be happy. If you think eventually he’ll be it, and he can prove he’s not going to hurt you again…after he saved you both I don’t feel like I have the right to be angry. He could have just let the baby die, could have just let you die. He didn’t. He did what he felt he had to even though he knew it was going to piss you off. I guess that makes him braver than I am sometimes!” he joked in an effort to lighten the mood.

It worked. Rogue sat back with a small smile and a sigh. “Well, if y’all are going to force me to stay in bed another day, Ah might as well nap,” she hinted as a yawn stole over her.

Scott shook his head and smiled. “All right, sleepyhead, I’ll go. But back to work for you tomorrow!”

“Sir, yes sir!” Rogue snarked at him as she rolled onto her side and snuggled up against her pillow. Scott settled her blanket around her and then left, closing the door behind himself quietly.

---

Logan waited for Scott in the hall. He felt lighter than he had in months, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Yeah, it was probably a crappy thing to eavesdrop on their conversation, but after what he’d just heard from Rogue he didn’t even care. He also had some apologizing to do himself.

The younger man almost jumped when he saw Logan standing there, but they both pretended not to notice. “What’s up, Logan?” he asked casually, only the slightest hint of strain in his voice.

Logan cleared his throat. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he replied gruffly. When Scott just stared at him in shock he continued irritably, “I took advantage of the fight between you and Jean because I wanted to hide from what was happening with me and Marie. It was the coward’s way out, and I’m sorry.”

Scott nodded slowly. “Thank you,” was all he said at first. Then with a deep breath he continued, “Just make sure that you don’t screw up this time around, okay? It’s not just you and her anymore, but even if it was, none of her friends want to see her hurt that way again.”

So he’d figured out that Logan had heard the conversation in Rogue’s room. Fair enough. “I’ll do my best. I’m only human, you know,” he said in a poor attempt at a joke. They both smiled slightly anyway. “Also, thank you for being there for her. I might not like some of the ways you were there for her,” and there Logan only just held back the growl audible in his voice, “but I’m glad you were at the same time. She deserved better than what I did to her.”

“She did. Remember that from now on and hopefully everything will work out.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it will.”

They parted ways at that, one to go to his history class, the other to teach the kids around there to defend themselves since everyone seemed out to kill the mutants whether they liked it or not. It wasn’t a perfect truce, and it wasn’t exactly a friendship. It was a start, though.

---

---

The pain was almost unbearable, but Rogue knew she could make it through. She regulated her breathing the way she was supposed to, walked when the contractions weren’t flooding through her, and prayed to whatever God might be out there that this would end soon. Hank had said that she was eight centimeters dilated but the contractions were still far enough apart that he didn’t think the actual birth was going to happen within the next hour. Rogue had growled at him that he could keep any other unhelpful information to himself.

Her two favorite men stood to one side of the medlab watching her warily as she paced back and forth, hands clenching in the thin gown over her distended stomach from time to time. Neither of them knew what to do, so they stayed out of the way as much as possible. It was an awkward time at best, but soon it would all be over.

‘Ro and Jubilee came rushing in moments later. The white-haired weather goddess had gone out to pick up Rogue’s friend when Hank declared it was really time, unlike the past weeks of false labor. Unfortunately Kitty had two exams that day, but she would be driving in as soon they were over. Jubilee fussed and drove Rogue crazy asking questions, but her nagging was a comfort to Rogue all the same.

“Yes, Jubes, Ah’m remember the breathing…ARGH…exercises!” Rogue shouted as another pain hit.

“I think they’re getting closer. Didn’t that seem closer, Logan?” Scott whispered in the corner.

“Maybe we should get Hank,” was all Logan would say in answer, his irritation high over the pain Rogue was in.

The woman in question turned to glare at them. “Ah am not ready yet. Let Hank have some food so that he doesn’t pass out when he’s trying to get this baby out of me!” she ground out even as another pain hit.

‘Ro rubbed a soothing hand over her back. “I do think that your contractions are coming much closer together, Rogue. Perhaps we should get Hank after all.”

Apparently the suggestion from a woman was much easier than from a man, or the pains were getting that bad, because Rogue gave in with a sigh. “Fine. Pull him away from his dinner for all Ah care. Ah just wish there was a way to hurry this stubborn child along!” she said with a glare towards Scott since she was already a week overdue.

He raised his hands. “Oh, no! Don’t look at me. I’m pretty sure we all know who she’s inheriting her stubbornness from!” he made the mistake of saying.

Logan slapped him on the back and pushed him to the door even as Rogue gave him a look that said she would happily disembowel him if she wasn’t in the middle of another contraction. “Why don’t you go get Hank before she kills you? We’ll get her into bed,” he said loudly to distract the irate woman in front of them and give Scott a chance to get away.

Rogue turned on Logan at that, as predicted. “Logan, Ah do not need help getting onto a damn…ARGH! BED!,” she shouted around the next pain.

“Oh yes, you do, chica. C’mon, let Wolvie there help you,” Jubilee urged, a slight edge of panic in her voice since this was her first time witnessing childbirth.

While Rogue complained Logan scooped her up and placed her gently on the bed just in time for her to dig her fingers into his arm because of another contraction. He heard the bone snap but ignored the pain. After all, his would heal while hers had to continue until this was done.

Hank hurried into the room still wiping his mouth on a napkin, Scott following closely behind. He scrubbed up quickly when he saw how close Rogue’s contractions were getting and came over to examine her.

“Ah thought you said it would be at least another hour, Hank!” Rogue panted at him, her breathing mostly forgotten.

“Babies aren’t exactly predictable, Marie. Aren’t you glad that this is almost over?” he muttered as he bent to perform his examination.

Rogue snorted but then sighed in relief when he announced that she was a full ten centimeters dilated and fully effaced. Logan stayed by her side so that she would have someone to grab on to if necessary who wouldn’t be hurt by her strength. Scott moved next to Hank along with ‘Ro, ready to act as his assistants. They had been preparing for this for more than a month and all knew their carefully orchestrated roles. Logan hadn’t complained when Scott wanted to cut the cord, while Scott had admitted that Logan really was the best one to stand beside Rogue thanks to his mutation. Sometimes they only managed civil even now, but there were friendlier moments in there as well which gave them all hope for the future.

The little girl arrived quickly for all that she had tried to remain in her mama’s stomach as long as possible. Her hair was more chestnut than dark brown like Rogue’s, but Logan thought that she had Rogue’s nose and mouth. Rogue thought that she had Scott’s eyes, but she didn’t mention that because she didn’t want him to worry. No matter who she looked like, though, all three could agree that they fell in love with her at first sight, wrinkled red skin and all.

“What are you going to name her?” Logan asked, carefully avoiding addressing either Rogue or Scott and showing that he accepted that either of them could answer.

Rogue looked at Scott, then Logan, ‘Ro, and Hank. “She’s Catherine Jubilation Summers,” she announced happily, which earned her smiles, groans, and laughter. “Ah want to name her for my three best friends.”

Logan nodded slowly and reached over to smooth a hand over the small dark head. “No matter what her name, she’s one lucky kid because she has you for a mama.”

Rogue smiled up at him. “Ah think she’s lucky because she has all of us for a family,” she replied, reaching out to take his hand.

And of course, they were both right.