Her first real clue that something was wrong was Scott's expression. It looked…strained, like he was attempting to pull his mask of leadership up, but it was hard coming. His stride was off from the normal controlled, confident gait; he was almost lethargic.

Rogue put down her half-consumed sandwich and watched him make his way over. It wasn't particularly like him to seek her out, but given that she was the only person in the faculty kitchen, the only non-teacher allowed there, and that she had seen him eat lunch earlier made her think that he might actually be, well, looking for her. She honestly couldn't think of why that might be, though. Did he need her to sit in on a class for him? Tutor a student? Did the Professor need to see her, and if so, why didn't he contact her telepathically?

Her questions were answered when he stopped before her and gently tugged at her upper arm, indicating that she should follow him. She was stunned to see a tear seep out from beneath his glasses, trailing its path down his cheek.

And she knew. It was simple, really. There weren't many things that had the ability to make Scott cry. One, actually. That would be the loss—or betrayal—of Jean, his wife. Her stomach dropped at the thought. There was only one person with whom she could think that Jean would betray Scott—one person who'd made it abundantly clear that he was ready, willing, and able. One person who'd been waiting for her for three years. Unfortunately, Rogue had been waiting for him, too.

Her voice came out in a tense whisper. "It's—you—they're together now, aren't they?"

Scott nodded tightly, then continued to pull her along behind him. He opened the door out onto the garden, and continued to walk. He dropped her arm, and she still followed. She had to do something, had to keep moving, had to…to process. She felt the strange anesthesia-like veil beginning to cloud her senses and fought against it. She wondered if Scott was doing the same. It was all so— surreal.

Her mind wound itself around the sudden change. Logan and Jean were together. Her wait—three years long—was over, and on top of that, completely fruitless. It was what Logan had wanted all along. Rogue had let herself read too deeply into Logan's friendship with her, had let herself believe that the small, subtle clues he sometimes gave her were to keep her waiting for him. The occasional night out together, the small touches, the lingering looks. All— nothing on his part. Did he do the same with the other women of the mansion? She couldn't remember now.

She did, however, remember the smoldering gazes he directed at Jean, their furtive, hurried conversations, and the special touch that was an almost-caress. Why had she ignored that? Had she written it off as simple flirtation?

Scott stopped abruptly and she bumped lightly into his back. "Sorry," she muttered, more out of habit than any real apology.

He flicked his hand over the scene before them. Rogue half-wondered at the distance they had crossed to get here, and why she hadn't noticed that they had walked so far out.

"I come out here to think," he said, breaking the silence. Like a small boy, he plopped onto the old tiling, surrounded by exotic flora.

Rogue recognized this particular garden now; it was Ororo's. Her pride and joy, if she remembered right. `Ro did work on most of the grounds, but this small section so far away from the mansion was her triumph. Its beauty wasn't particularly comforting now.

"'Ro said I could—that I could come out here when I wanted."

"That was nice of her," Rogue breathed.

"Wasn't it?"

They sat in silence for a while, until Rogue shook her head and sighed. To Scott's ears, it sounded like one of acceptance intermingled with pain. "How did you find out?"

He shrugged. "Jean and I—last night, when we were…together"—

Rogue marveled that he was still so genteel in language around her.

"—she had a—a bite mark on her collarbone. It had—I could still see the bruising his teeth had made, Rogue. I could still see that. It was fresh. It wasn't there this morning. I didn't say anything, but I stopped—we didn't"—

"I understand what you mean, sugar. Go ahead."

"She wanted to know why I was stopping, but I just said that I was tired. I remembered her coming in late from the Danger Room, so I— there are security tapes, and I"—he took several shuddering breaths, and Rogue knew that he was struggling to control himself. "I watched the one that covered the specific time period. They were—she and Logan"—

"Hey—hey," she comforted, kneeling down beside him and taking his face in her gloved hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too," he said bitterly, hugging her tightly. "I thought that—I always thought that once she and I were married, that she wouldn't— that I would be enough, that that would prove who she really wanted. I was wrong."

Rogue nodded and felt her own tears stinging at her eyes. Her legs burned from the crouch, so she settled down next to her friend Indian-style. "It's on her, Scott. You were enough, but she"—

"But I couldn't give her what she wanted," he finished miserably.

Her hands moved over his back now, trying to soothe. She didn't know what to say. She and Scott were more co-workers than friends, and she didn't know what to give him in the way of comfort. Usually, he sought out Ororo. She couldn't think why he had come to her. "It's okay," she said lamely.

"Would you—I need someone to go with me to move my things out of our room. Her room," he corrected himself.

"Hey, sure. It'll—you'll feel better once that's done. It'll help"—

"Cauterize it?"

She mulled that over. Was it an appropriate term? As good as any she could think of, she supposed. "Yeah."

"Thank you. I know we—we've never really"—

"Better a late friendship than none at all, right?" she shrugged.

"That's—I like that."

"Me too."

---

It was times like this—moving heavy oak furniture—when her super strength came in especially handy. Well, then and fighting the Brotherhood, the Juggernaut, and all their other foes.

"What—What on earth are you doing?!"

Rogue gritted her teeth and continued to lift the heavy dresser. She'd let Scott handle this one.

"Jean, I'm moving out. Permanently. This furniture is mine, my parents' gift. You can have whatever else you want."

"Why are you leaving?!" Jean looked more furious than confused. Rogue resisted the urge to fling the fixture straight at her pretty red head.

"I saw you and Logan. Together. That's enough of an explanation," he said tiredly.

"Oh, Scott, no, don't—it was a one-time thing, I swear. I—I love you! You know that I love"—

"Jean, love doesn't entail sleeping with other men or women. That's not what I associate love with. I—I never thought you went by that, either, but it's true. I guess it's true."

"No, don't—give me another chance, Scott! I'm so sorry, it was—was a moment of weakness and I"—

"I don't care, Jean. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone who's prone to those moments of weakness."

"Scott, sugar, you're going to have to show me where you want this in your new room," Rogue broke in.

"Oh, right, sorry. Here, just—right this way."

She followed him down the hall, toward the end and laid the piece in Scott's selected spot. "Here's good?"

"I like that spot. I may need to move it when we get the nightstand in, though."

"'S fine."

The sound of Jean's boot heels could be heard approaching the room. Her voice announced her arrival. "*Please*, I'll do anything"—

"There's nothing you can say. It's over. Please, let me move in peace."

"I'll—I'll"—

"I'm sure Logan's waiting for you," Rogue bit out. "You know where his room is."

Jean looked at her for a moment, as if just registering her presence. "I don't"—

Rogue followed Scott back to his old room and picked up the nightstand. God, but were all his things heavy? How'd he get it in here? She bet Jean used her telekinesis.

"What the hell's goin' on here?"

Rogue almost swung around at Logan's voice, but plodded along after Scott. Didn't matter, didn't matter, didn't matter. She was going to have to get used to the idea that he hadn't wanted her. She wanted to scream that he'd led her on, that she'd loved him, but her dignity restrained her.

"Next to the bed, please. Thanks. Do you want—we could go and get some dinner, if you'd like," Scott offered. To him, it would be a good way of getting out of the mansion and focusing on something else for a little while.

"Sure. How `bout…um, Italian?"

"Is there really anything else?"

Rogue laughed and relished at how good it felt. "You heard about that, huh?" Her love of Italian was well known at the school.

"I've been known to keep my ear low to the ground, yes. How about Luigi's? It's a little far from here, but they've got the best manicotti you've ever had."

"I'm game."

"Good—good. My treat?"

"How `bout dutch? Otherwise, I'd feel like a freeloader."

"Consider it thanks for helping me move all that stuff."

"Done, if you buy me a few beers."

"Oh, no. I've heard the stories about you and Jubilee. Something about a twenty-man bar fight?"

"I plead the fifth, sugar."

---

"So then the guy says—uh, I'll finish this later, okay?" Rogue patted Scott's suddenly tense arm and turned toward Logan.

Scott stepped forward. Rogue halted him and shook her head. "You head on upstairs, sugar. I'll see you tomorrow mornin', okay?"

He nodded tersely and strode out, obviously seething.

Rogue turned toward Logan. "Been waitin' long?"

"It's past three in the mornin'."

"I know."

"And?"

"And what?"

"You and him…"

"Went to dinner and had a good time."

"For almost fifteen hours?!"

"You're in no goddamn position to demand any information outta me."

"Look, kid, that's"—

"And that's pretty pissy, too. I'm twenty, Logan. I'm not a kid. I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that."

"Marie"—

"That either," she snapped acidly.

He growled. "Rogue, I was worried, okay?"

"And? I'm suppose to give you any regard when you don't care about me at all?"

"Look, ki—Rogue, it…I care. I care a lot, you know that"—

"No, I don't know that."

"You and me, we're"—

"You knew how I felt about you! And you *fucked* the one woman you knew it'd just about kill me to fuck! But you did it anyway, right? I should've—I had you in my head, I should've known. You—that you, mental you, never stopped wantin' Jean. I just—I thought you cared about me, about *Scott*, or at least had enough *honor*, not to do that. But you did, and that's how it is. That's how it is, and I know that now."

"Lemme"—

"Don't touch me!"

"Marie"—

"*Rogue*."

"Rogue, gimme—lemme just say my piece, okay? Will you gimme that much? Please?"

"I'm tired, and I'm goin' to bed. It's past three in the mornin'. I'll see you `round."

"Wait"—

---

Ororo carefully adjusted her bra and quashed the stupid feeling before it could discourage her yet again. Then again, did she *really* need a push-up bra? Did Scott like that? Jean wasn't overly-endowed, while she herself had rather voluptuous assets and—

No, no, can't think like that. She fought to gain her centering and exhaled. She was once *worshipped*, and while her followers and herself were misguided, she still needed that small reality-check. She sauntered—as best as one formerly revered as a goddess could saunter—toward the would-be object of her affections on the bench in her prized garden. "Good afternoon, Scott. How are you?"

"Oh, `Ro! I didn't see you coming. I'm fine, thank you. You?"

"I'm good. Are you enjoying our lovely fall weather?"

"You know, I am. I thought I was a spring, turns out I'm a fall."

"Hm…and how are you…holding up?" She alluded to he and Jean's divorce two months ago.

"Better than I thought I would." He put down his book and turned to face her. "You know, I thought—when she and I were still together, I wondered what I'd do if we ever broke up. It's not—I'm doing well, better than well. I'm doing great." He smiled and repeated himself. "I'm doing great."

"That's wonderful," she said genuinely.

"Isn't it? I—I'm seeing all these things differently now. I'm doing just great." He leaned in conspiratorially. "The oddest thing— and don't think badly of me for this, since she and I *just* got divorced—but I'm wondering if I'm not better off this way. I was so… confined in our relationship. I was always looking over my shoulder… and now I don't have to. It's just this feeling of freedom that I can't even begin to describe."

"Try," Ororo encouraged.

"Well, it's—it's freedom, mostly. There's that, but it's all composed of different feelings. My—my shoulders feel lighter, and my chest isn't…it isn't as tight as I remember it. It's psychological, I know, and maybe silly, but…"

"It's not silly, not at all," smiled Ororo.

"Thank you." He blushed a little, and her heart warmed. "I was wondering…would you like to accompany me to the Professor's gala for our sponsors? I—I completely understand if you don't want to, and if you're busy, or going with someone else"—

"Scott? I'd be delighted."

---

He figured she'd be on the roof. He saw her heading up here a lot, especially when the nightmares got too bad or when she just needed to think. She could get up here a lot easier than him, given her flight, but he had his balance.

Maybe tonight she'd talk to him, or at least not fly off the roof. The last couple of times, she'd stayed, and that gave him a rather pathetic feeling of hope. It was something, though. She was willing to give him that much. Not conversation, not yet, maybe, but he'd take her silence. It proved that she was close to at least not being revolted by him. Maybe she appreciated his persistence.

"Logan?"

"Not now, Jean, I gotta"—

"If she wanted to speak to you, she'd just do it. You know how she is."

"Yeah, I know, but I gotta keep tryin'. She's gotta say somethin' one `a these nights."

"You may not like what she has to say."

He considered that. "Maybe not, but it'll be somethin'. She can get it offa her chest, and then maybe she can think about"—

"About what? Being with you? Oh, Logan, don't be silly. She understands that you don't want her that way"—

"Who the hell said that?" He didn't talk much about his feelings or emotions, but his continued attempts at speaking to Rogue—trying to get back *something* of their former relationship and maybe building from there—would show people that he *did* want Rogue that way. On top of that, Jean was a telepath. She was fairly scrupulous with it, but she should've at least caught that much from him.

"Well, Logan, you and I—we *did* sleep together, and I thought that…" She flailed for the words, "—that we would be—that she would understand that"—

"I toldya before, Jean, it was a mistake. It was that one time, and it was a mistake. I'm sorry, but"—

"If you couldn't do right by me, what makes you think you could do right by her?"

"I didn't try to do right by you." He hated how that sounded, but it was the truth. "We didn't get together or nothin'."

"'Get together'? Logan, what we did was the very epitome of `getting together'. At least tell me it meant something to you." She put her hands on her hips and furrowed her brows.

"I done that with a lotta other women, Jean. It"—

"Is that all it was? A one-time thing, a casual lay?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling defiant.

"You know what? I don't think so. You knew how Rogue felt about us getting together, but you still did it. I think that if you wanted me enough to do that, then it *did* mean something to you."

"I hadya against the fuckin' wall in the Danger Room, alright? That ain't romantic, that ain't love or anythin' close. I wanted it, and I thought—I was fuckin' wrong, but I thought—that if nobody found out, it wouldn't be nothin'. That I could do it that one time and it'd be okay."

"But it wasn't? What, I wasn't good enough? I beg to differ, I"—

"That's enough, it's done, alright? It's in the fuckin' past. Yer tryin' to get Scooter back, and this ain't the way to go doin' it. Leave it alone." He was in a hurry to be gone.

"Fine then. That's just fine. I was a—a—just another mare in the stable, wasn't I? Just another tally mark?"

"You go an' think whatever you wanna think, Jean. You will anyway."

---

"That's, uh, not too good for ya, you know."

Rogue took a deep drag off the cigarette and exhaled. She wasn't in the mood for a lecture tonight, especially not from him. She idly considered flying off the rooftop and toward the lake again. It was pretty there at night.

"It does bad shit to yer lungs."

"Not mine," she shrugged. "Invulnerable, remember? My flesh is the equivalent of steel." She left out that it was the equivalent of a sponge as well.

He was silent for a few moments, and she bet it was because he was shocked that she'd even spoken to him. It'd been…nearly a month since she'd so much as paid him any attention.

"Yeah."

She saw him fidgeting a little in her peripheral vision. Was he going to sit down next to her? She didn't know if that was a bad thing or not.

"So I was thinkin' we could talk."

"'Bout what?"

"I dunno…anythin'. Whaddya want to talk about?"

"I wasn't the one who wanted to, so…"

"Uh," he sat down a few feet away from her. "I never seen you with your gloves off out here."

Rogue regarded her bare fingers. "If I smoke with them on, it gets nicotine all over them. I don't want the tips of my gloves turnin' yellow. I like that pair."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"So…whaddya been doin' lately?"

Rogue wondered if she really should answer that question. He was keeping tabs on her, she knew, and furthermore, he knew that she knew, so didn't that render that question obsolete? As a nod to social conditioning, she replied, "Not much. Same as always. You?"

"Not too much."

She took another drag and ground the cigarette out. She hadn't really been avoiding him as a means to make him suffer, inasmuch as a way to spare her own feelings. It just hurt to be around him. He should know that, at least. "I just think you should know that I'm not tryin' to be a bitch or anythin'. It's just that I don't think we should be around each other that much, okay? For me, I mean. It still—I'm still hurtin', okay?" She turned to look at him.

Logan grimaced. "Yeah. Okay."

He looked…crestfallen. "Not—not forever, you know. I'd just like some time away from you."

"Okay. Yeah, okay. I can do that. How long—I don't wanna limit you or nothin', but how long do ya think ya need?"

"I don't know. We'll just…we'll play it by ear, okay? When things start to feel right, we'll try again."

"Okay. You just lemme know. I'll do—you just say what you need, and I'll do it, okay?"

"Okay."

---

Ororo ignored the furious glare from Jean and clung to Scott's arm a little tighter. She and Jean's friendship had been deteriorating for years. Plus, she'd hurt Scott deeply, so she felt justified in pursuing him. Still, she couldn't help but feel, well, inadequate when so close to her `rival'.

"How're you holding up?"

Ororo smiled at Scott. "I'm having a wonderful time. You?"

"I'm thoroughly enjoying the company," he laughed and nudged her a little. "Relax," he whispered. "We've been dating for three months now. She'll get used to it."

"I know. I just—I feel a little…insignificant compared to her," she admitted. "You were with her for so long, and I feel that we're…"

"Jean and I were together for seven years. I hope—I'm hoping you'll stay with me longer. I was thinking…how does the next fifty or so sound to you?"

Ororo laughed, then stopped in shock. "Are you—is that a—a proposal?"

"Not—not yet. But I think that's coming. What do you think?"

"I think I would be delighted."

---

Rogue wrestled the remote control out of Logan's hands and flipped it back to The Real World. "A girl can't even watch her favorite show anymore in here," she playfully groused.

"That's the playoffs, Rogue. Doncha wanna see who's got a shot at winnin' the cup?"

"Nope. I wanna see if Amala's gonna sleep with Colin."

"That show's borin'."

"And watchin' grown men beat each other senseless with wooden sticks is any better?" she countered.

"Yep."

"Figured. But it's all a matter of perspective, and since my perspective's better—not to mention capable of liftin' forty tons— we're gonna watch The Real World."

"Guess I can't argue with that."

Rogue smirked and looked over at Logan. He'd been so good by not pushing her, not the slightest bit. They'd begun exchanging pleasantries, then talking a little, and she felt comfortable just playing around now. They hadn't really talked about his escapade with Jean six months ago—really, it hadn't even been mentioned. For now, they were just rebuilding the bridges that'd been burnt. It felt good to do that. They were in a sort of comfy-friendship mode, and for now that felt right.

She snuggled closer into his side, feeling him drape an arm tentatively around her back. She frowned, thinking. It wasn't sexual—didn't feel like it, anyway—but it was still…somehow a more intimate gesture than any they'd tried so far. She couldn't put her finger on why, but it still felt that way. In the end, she didn't shrug him off.

"So you like watchin' the endin' credits?"

"Huh?"

"You're show's over."

"Oh. I really didn't notice."

He grinned. "Then you shoulda let me watch the hockey game."

"Well, um, you could probably catch the tail-end of it. Go ahead."

"Nah. I'll just ask Hank. He keeps up with hockey, right?"

"I don't think so…you'd have better luck with Scott."

"Uh, I dunno. Don't think he'd wanna talk to me too much."

"Oh? Oh, right. Um—I, um, forgot for a second." She gently shifted his arm off of her and pulled away from him. It felt wrong to be so…intimate while talking about what'd happened.

"Yeah. We, uh, we never really talked about that, y'know."

"Yeah."

"So…anythin' you wanna say about it? Or ask?" He cringed at his choice of words.

"…Now that you mention it, yes."

"Uh, you go ahead then."

"Okay, so…why? Why would you hurt me like that? You *knew*, I made it pretty clear over those three years, how I felt about you. I mean, why?"

"You know I'm real sorry, Rogue. I didn't wanna—I mean I didn't do it to hurt you or nothin'."

"I know that wasn't your goal or anythin', but you knew it would all the same. Did I just…not mean enough to you?"

"No," he replied immediately. "You mean just everythin' to me, Rogue. I was—when you wouldn't talk to me, didn't wanna see me, it was killin' me."

"So why did you do it?"

"I guess the easiest answer to that…well, it's `cause I wanted to." He took in her expression and dove into an explanation. "I'm—I was waitin' for you to grow up, you know, get a little older, and I—I liked flirtin' with her, gettin' to Scooter, but I didn't—I really didn't think it'd go that far. We were in the Danger Room that mornin', and it kinda just happened."

"Kinda just happened?"

"I meant that, you know, I wasn't plannin' on it or nothin'. She was there and wanted me, and we were flirtin' a little, and then…I guess you know the rest."

"Yeah. Wait—wait, you said—you said you were waitin' for me to grow up?"

"Uh, yeah. Darlin', I—you know you mean a whole lot to me, right? Always have. I just—I didn't tell ya that part `cause you'd a wanted to get together real quick, and you were too young. It wasn't time. You had all those voices in yer head and—they fade, and that had to be you in charge first, and I wanted to give ya a little time to just… I dunno, be you. To see if you still wanted me like that once you got me outta yer head."

"Oh."

"Darlin'? Say somethin', okay?"

"Somethin'."

He grunted. "I meant, whaddya think?"

"I don't know. I mean, you really hurt me. You did what you did, knowin' that I would get hurt if it came out, and did it anyway. That's painful. I just—the explanation helps a little, but for now, I don't know."

"Oh."

"But—you can call me Marie again, okay? That's—you can do that."

---

"'Ro, tell me you aren't gonna make us poor, sufferin' bridesmaids wear *yellow*. I mean, Jubes is probably singin' your praises, but"—

"No, no, Rogue. This is just the *design* of the dress. The color will be a pale blue." Ororo inspected her own gown in front of the large mirror. "Does this make my—er, do I look"—

"No, `Ro, your butt doesn't look fat. Though the white is a little deceptive." The younger girl grinned slyly. "That's for us virgins, and Lord knows that with the noises comin' outta you and Scott's room"—

Ororo squeaked and covered her eyes with her hands. Rogue just laughed and went back to scrutinizing her own gown.

"Ladies? `Ro?"

"No—Scott, you can't come back here! You can't see the bride in her gown!" Rogue shoved a tuxedo-clad Scott back out of the dressing rooms amidst his protests.

"Hey! I thought—watch your hands, Rogue!—I thought the old adage was that I couldn't see the bride before the *wedding*!"

"Well, either way, I don't want you two havin' any bad luck. So we're gonna play it safe, okay? Out you go. I'll relay the message to `Ro."

Scott gave a long-suffering sigh. "Tell her I love her, and that whatever dress she picks will look fantastic on her."

"Can do, sugar."

---

"That was the best weddin' I've seen. `Course, bein' the only weddin' I've seen, it had that advantage, but…" Rogue smiled playfully.

Logan chuckled and shrugged out of his jacket. "Can't believe they made me wear a damned *suit*."

"Hey, you looked good. Couldn't quite top Scott's tux, but you were a close second."

"I guarantee I ain't steppin' into a penguin suit for anythin'."

"Ha! I don't know, it looked like fun." At Logan's raised eyebrow, she amended, "For Scott. I mean, it was his second weddin' an' all…"

"Yeah. Didn't see Jean there."

"Sort of a shame, though I've got no great love for her. `Ro invited her, but what can you do?"

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Hey, help me outta this dress, would you?"

"Uh, yeah, lemme get these shoes off first. I'll be right there." He kicked off the dress shoes with disgust and then made his way over to Rogue. "How does…"

"Zipper up the back, sugar."

"Got it." He unzipped the mechanism to the middle of her back, watching the pale skin—shrouded by a body stocking—reveal itself. He breathed in deeply, feeling her scent imprint itself upon him. Honestly, he never thought she'd trust herself with him again, but here she was. She always managed to surprise the hell out of him.

"Logan?"

"Huh?"

"You're—you're kinda close, there. Careful—be careful of my skin, okay?" she said softly.

"You got a body stockin' on." And he didn't want to move away just yet. He could feel her body heat from his proximity. He wanted to get closer, but didn't want to frighten her off. She might not be ready for that yet, and he'd done enough damage just acting on instinct.

"You feel good there," she breathed, leaning back slowly. She could feel his erection against her lower back, but didn't shy away. Instead, she wiggled against him a little and bit her lip.

In response, he gently kissed her covered shoulder, then pulled back to see her reaction. "Is that okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Better than okay," she whispered.

"This isn't—you wanna"—

"I think it's—we've rebuilt enough. We're in a good place. Let's— let's go a little further, okay?" She turned to face him, pressing her body flush against his torso and kissing his chest.

"Whatever you want, darlin'. It's—we fixed everythin', right?"

"Yeah. A little more, too, I think."

--End—