A/N: Got part of the idea from another Rogan story I read a couple of years ago. Half will understand, half will be confused. Thanks to Tatiana, Radha, Chiang and Jo-Anne for the help and input. Thanks to Bunny Angel for editing. Please review. Want to archive? Then e-mail (bio) me. I don't own the X-Men. Visit my site. Review please.
"We can't keep doing it like this," he told her, staring at her intently as though he believed if he stared hard enough she would look up at. Her face remained hidden to his eyes as she sat crossed legged in her bed, leaning forward, pretending to be doing the work in her lap with hair falling over her shoulders. He couldn't tell if she had acknowledged what he had just said or not. When she didn't answer, he narrowed his eyes and repeated louder, "We can't keep doing it like this, Marie."
She didn't move. She kept her head down, still not looking at him, still not showing any signs of hearing him.
"Yes, we can," she replied when she finally bothered to answer him, though she still avoided looking up at him. When he pushed himself off the door and made his way to the front edge of her bed, she finally looked up and met his gaze. "We can. We have to, or we can't do this at all."
He narrowed his eyes again, not wanting to accept those as the terms. Did he not have any say in this? But he dropped it for now. He had not the will to fight her on this, knowing that she would not change her mind now even if they argued. They had had this argument times before, but he didn't want to have it again. He was tired of it. She looked back down, knowing exactly what he was feeling, and returned to her work. He watched her for while, thinking—thinking of a way he could maybe change her mind later. He sighed when nothing surfaced, and left.
She didn't trouble trying to stop him, knowing he would always come back to her, knowing he would always come back to her when she wanted him to. She put away the work she had never actually been working on and laid back on her bed, wishing—wishing she had the fortitude to be more like him. To stop this and take it further, but she wasn't like John, and even though he'd been imprinted in her mind a couple of months ago at Bobby's house, she still hadn't gotten that from him. She knew he hated how limited their relationship was, but she had long ago become desensitized to any feelings of guilt. She knew this was how it would have to be. At least for a while. She'd maybe consider it, not anytime soon, but she'd think about it later. For him.
He'd come back later, like he always did, when he wanted to return, and lay down with her, holding her as she rested in bed, not yet sleeping, stroking her hair, kissing her, and they'd talk. He wished she would drop the barriers she'd placed around their relationship. He wanted more than this. They were lucky she had her own room. If she'd had a roommate, they wouldn't even have the luxury of using her room. He'd try not to bring it back up, to talk about it, but it was getting harder for him not to. He had succumbed for so long, and he understood that she felt uncomfortable with the idea, but he knew it could work. He knew her well enough, and he knew himself well enough to know that it could work if only she'd give it a chance. He doubted he himself could have changed so much in the few short months since Bobby's house, and he wasn't like her, he could not ignore these types of things, he couldn't put them off as insignificant like she could. He didn't want to.
He'd find a way though. He'd find a way to make it work.
She woke slowly to find herself alone in her bed, wanting him to come back, but knowing he would have to leave again as soon as he came. Classes would start soon, and it wouldn't be possible for them to leave her room and walk together to classes. And it probably never would be. Not that she would tell him that. Not that he didn't know; she knew he did. He wanted so much for her to change her mind, but she didn't think she could, and deep down she knew she wouldn't.
She walked to class by herself, thinking about John, and how it probably wasn't all that fair for her to ignore what he wanted. It had been all about her from the beginning, and at first, he had been okay with it. She didn't really understand why he wanted to change everything anyway, why he wanted to complicate things. They were fine the way they were now.
At the opposite end of the halls, Bobby and John appeared together, talking, coming towards her down the hallway as she neared the class. Bobby gave her an acknowledging nod, but John had not noticed her. She responded with a small smile that Bobby didn't catch. He had already looked away, pulled back into with the conversation he and John were having. A frown replaced her smile, and she tried to ignore the feeling in her chest as she watched them enter the room. She had long ago gotten over caring that this was how it had to be when they weren't alone together. She'd gotten used to it, but every once in a while she felt what he felt…
In class, she took an available seat next to another student and watched as Jubilee took the seat next to John, all the time smiling at him strangely. He smiled back, and the feeling in her chest came back. This was how it went, she knew that, but she wondered angrily why she was feeling these feelings that belonged to him. Maybe he was trying to make a point. Show her how it felt to have her feelings ignored. She rolled her eyes, pissed, and turned away. She knew how to ignore this kind of stuff. She knew how to do it well. She could ignore him for as long as it took.
So she did. She waited throughout the entire class, paying attention only to Jean, blocking him out. But it was so hard. Hearing him laugh with her. Hearing their quiet murmurs. When class was over, she left, without casting a glance towards them. She walked by herself again, but he appeared, catching her and pulling her away. Away where they were alone. She glared at him, not wanting anything to do with him right now. Not after that little stunt. Not after what she had seen. What they had both just seen. He looked down at her, his hand on her shoulder, guilt on his face, wanting to explain, wanting to talk about it again. Change it.
"What are you trying to do? I said no! Keep your thoughts—" she demanded irately. He knew why she couldn't do it, why it wouldn't work. She knew he understood.
"I do understand! … Why don't you? Why don't you even consider it? Just walk over to me—" he yelled, cutting her off, knowing what she had been thinking and angry that that had been all she was thinking. Not even thinking of how he felt. He stopped talking frustrated, wondering if he would ever win this fight. If this was how it would be forever, he didn't want to do it. He didn't see the point in it. He couldn't just sit there and be okay with the way they were when he knew she could change it. When he knew that he'd do it.
"I said I'd try. Just not now!" she told him. He could tell she didn't want to, and that made him angrier. She knew she wouldn't try. She wouldn't try for him. He dropped his hand from her shoulder and stepped back from her. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what would get through to her. He couldn't break up with her. He couldn't. He'd only be going backwards. He didn't want to, and he knew as well as she that that he could never leave her, that he would always come back to her.
"Rogue?" Bobby called suddenly showing up as he turned the corner. She stood up straight, startled, not knowing where he'd come from. She glanced at John to find him gone. He'd be back; she knew that… whenever she wanted him to… She tried to relax her tensed arms wrapped around her books against her chest, and looked up at him expectantly. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her strangely. He had no idea why she was hiding around the corner. She looked nervous to him, uneasy and trying to hide it. He did not understand.
"You okay?" he asked. She nodded and walked away back towards classes. She didn't like the nature of what had just happened. She hated when she almost got caught. She hated like slipping.
She didn't let it happen again. For a week, she refused to see him unless they were alone. For a week, she ignored him. For a week, Jubilee sat next to him.
He was seated on the edge of her bed not facing her, staring at the door. She sat on her bed facing his back, staring at him. She knew how he felt. He knew how she felt. It didn't matter. It didn't change anything. It never did.
Except he barely spoke to her now, and she knew now that even if she could always make him come back to her when she wanted to, his presence would be halfhearted.
He wasn't happy, and that changed everything now. It had always only been an annoying topic she'd always been able to swat away in the past. Now it was tearing him away from her, and she didn't know what to do. She didn't want what he wanted, but she wanted him. In a way that was almost the same thing.
"John?" she called out. He didn't show any sign of hearing her. He was bent over, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes blank of any emotion. She inched closer, yet not close enough to touch him and watched as his back barely rose and fell as he breathed. She didn't want to lose him. She tried again, raising her voice higher. "John. I'll try… I promise."
He didn't move or show any signs of having heard her. She slid off the bed and walked to the front of it, eyeing the door to make sure it was locked before turning and dropping to her knees on the ground in front of him. He averted his eyes to meet her gaze. Her guilt had finally broken through the wall she had built up, and she didn't care. It meant she could keep him. She moved his arms and laid her head on his knee. He stared down at her, knowing that she meant it this time and smiled.
She'd awake the next day, and he wouldn't be gone. He'd be right there next to her, and she hadn't remembered him being there when she woke up for so long because she hadn't woken in the mornings with him there since they'd first gotten together. She'd moved closer by instinct, wanting to be closer to him, wanting to try to feel the heat of his body, to try to smell his scent. And she'd remember that yesterday she told him that she'd try. She wasn't sure how it would work, or even if she wanted it to work. She didn't know. She had never dreamed of change. Never expected it. But she'd try for him.
He'd stir from her movement and wake soon after, and he'd remembered what she'd said last night, and his smile would be contagious. And that alone helped her make her decision.
Later she'd walk down the hallway thinking about what she could do to start changing things. She refused to be rash. She wanted to start slow. It was the only way it'd work. It was the only way to not confuse him. And he'd promised to help her.
So, in class she sat next to John and smiled and said hi, and he smiled back, "Hey, Rogue." Rogue. He'd always call her Marie when they were together. She could already see that they were different. She smiled again, and when he didn't say anything else, she didn't know what to do, so she said nothing, too, and the rest of the students were still coming in the classroom. It was like she didn't know him, and she didn't. Not now. Not here. Not him. She didn't know him, and he didn't know her. They'd never done this before, and it was unnerving. Though he seemed to be fine. He wasn't helping her yet, and she was wishing he would.
And when Jubilee walked in, she saw that the seat next to John wasn't empty like it usually was for her. She looked confused and wasn't smiling like she usually did. So she sat next to Bobby instead and decided to think nothing of it. Boys were like that. Like rubber bands, she remembered. But when John turned around and smiled at her, the smile found it's way back to Jubilee's face, and he stayed turned around, and he and Jubilee talked until class started. It wasn't until after class when he and Jubilee instantly drew back together that Rogue realized she'd made some mistakes. That the months had changed John. That John was too different for this to work. That it wouldn't be as easy as he said it would, and that she'd waited too long.
And she swallowed and withdrew into herself where it was safe. Where she wanted to be. Where she wanted him. Pretending that she was listening to Scott as he taught, but all the time thinking of how she'd been right all along. How he'd been wrong. How he'd hurt her. She'd known that it would've never work. She knew that there'd always be something in the way. Something to stop them. But she'd always figured it'd be their differences mainly, but it turned out to be another girl.
She rushed out of the classroom, the first one out the door and ran for her room. Hating him. Hating herself. Knowing she should have listened to herself, not him. And he caught her like he always did, apologetic like always. Guilt on his face. He knew he'd made a mistake, and he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't think that would've happened. Didn't know things would change this way with him. And he hadn't helped her like he said he would. And now she was crying.
"Marie? I'm sorry. I didn't know it was going to happen like that? I thought he was—" he was too confused. Why he hadn't seen it coming, he didn't know. He just didn't know. He'd been so wrapped up in himself. In her. That he hadn't noticed. He'd forgotten. He looked at Marie, narrowing his eyes to keep the wetness from becoming more than wetness. It had been his idea. He'd wanted things to change. He'd hurt her, and he hadn't seen it coming. Now he was lost.
"I don't care," she proclaimed quietly, not looking him in the eye. Not wanting to look at him. It could have been fine. Everything could have been fine if he had only let it go. Listened to her instead of arguing. She didn't know what they were supposed to do after this. She couldn't go along with it now. It wouldn't work. She'd only wanted him, and he'd wanted more. Now she was lost.
He pulled her to his chest and let her sob quietly into his shirt. He didn't understand how he'd screwed everything up. She'd never try again now. She'd never listen to him again. He'd never get what he wanted. He closed his eyes and rested his head atop hers. They'd have to stay like this. He realized that, and he'd take it. He'd stay with her. He'd always stay with her when she wanted him to. She froze in his arms suddenly and pushed him away. "Go!" she demanded, and he left. She stood there wiping her tears away, trying to make herself look as normal as she could without a bathroom, and then leaned back against the wall casually.
"Rogue? What do you do over here?" Bobby asked as he came upon her again, his eyes glancing about as if he'd heard her earlier command and wondered whom she spoke to. She looked at him apathetically and shrugged. He couldn't figure out why he'd always see her disappear around the corner between classes. Dorms were the other way. It didn't make sense. He examined her hard, and it looked as if she'd maybe been crying. She noticed and looked down as inconspicuously as she could, letting her hair fall over her shoulders to cover her face. She didn't want him to notice. He wanted to know what was really going on with her. She'd been withdrawn since Stryker's attack on the mansion. "Rogue, you sure you okay?"
She nodded, but he didn't see. John had come to see whom he'd been talking to. He saw her, and she looked away before he could say hi again. She didn't want to see him. "What's going on? You two coming to class?" She nodded and looked up at Bobby through her hair as best she could with her head still down. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to talk to Bobby. She just wanted to get classes over with, and leave. Bobby gave her one last perusal.
"Yeah, we're coming. Come on, Rogue," he said, and draped an arm around her shoulder to pull her along. He hadn't wanted to leave without her. She didn't seem like she'd have been okay by herself. He wanted to be sure. And in class, he made her sit next to him, and he tried to talk to her. Try to make her feel better. She shrugged in response to most of his questions, but that was okay with him because at least she was answering. At least, he was getting to her. She couldn't get herself to talk. Not even if it was Bobby, who'd only ever tried to help her. Nothing Bobby could say could change what had happened. Nothing he could say could change anything. She tried to respond to all his questions and tried to smile at all his comments, but she only wanted to get out here. To be alone. With him.
She wanted him to come back to her.
Later, they'd be sitting in the library. At their own little table. She'd be pretending to be doing her work, and he'd be pretending not to watch her. They wouldn't be talking; she wouldn't want to do any talking. They'd agreed to disregard everything that had happened, and go back to the way they'd been before. Before he'd hurt her. Before she'd made her mistakes. He would have finally figured out how to ignore those types of things, he could put them off as insignificant like she could. But he didn't want to, and he'd already begun thinking—thinking about how he could make it better. How he could possibly. Make it work. Make it change. Plan it out better. This was something he wasn't ready to give up on, but he'd leave it alone for a while. For her. And she'd been comforted by the fact that she still had him, and that he would drop it. That he understood she just wanted him. That he'd come back to her when she wanted him to. And she didn't mind their leaving her bedroom together anymore.
They'd be pretending not to notice that they sat across the library from them at their own little table, and they'd pretend to not notice them arguing loudly. Jubilee would get up from the table and leave, anger contorting her face, taking her stuff with her, so as not to have to come back, and John would glare after her, not willing to get up and chase after her, knowing that he'd been right.
And then he'd turn around and look at John, sitting angrily at his table, and then look back at her from across the table, and she'd look at him, knowing what he was thinking and shake her head. He thought this would be a great chance, a better chance for her to try to take it further. Take them further. "No, John. I won't do it again. I won't." He'd sigh frustrated, wishing that just now, everything could work out for the them, but not wanting to have him hurt her again. He thought that they'd be the same, he and John, but John had changed. He didn't think the same things John did. They weren't the same person anymore, that John hadn't been there for the last three months, and he could not grasp that easily. He looked back at himself once more and responded quietly, "I just don't want you to lose me."
She looked past him to the real John, who was pretending to be doing his work, tapping his pencil forcefully, irately on the table, and looked back at her John sitting across the table, guilt still lingering in his expression—the John she really knew; the one who wanted her to have the real John, who was sitting across the library oblivious to them as he had always been, to make what they had, their relationship, seem even more real; the one who was imprinted and spent the past three months sharing her mind with her; the one only she could see. The one she loved, whom she knew would always come back to her, who she knew would always come back to her when she wanted him to.
And she replied smiling, "I won't."