This is my entry for the 3rd Rogan challenge! It's different, I'll give it that much xD

Prompts:

Memory stick.

P!nk singing

Eggs

Not very cheerful xD

My yellow hoodie (with the word "Imoan" on the back – it's my name. Backwards.)

Ok, this was pretty fun to write! It kind of follows on from my story 'Contemplation' but you don't have to have read that (though feel free, of course). I certainly have some- erh- interesting (?) prompts, but I don't think I made too bad a job of putting them together :) Enjoy!

Rogue sat in a desk chair, twirling something in her hands, her dark brown and white hair swept out of her eyes in a ponytail. She was leaning back, swinging dangerously on two legs, her eyes not quite focussed on the glaring white of the ceiling.

Even in the dark I could him move towards me, and very slowly and deliberately, I felt his gloved hands cup my face. One thumb stroked my skin, and I closed my eyes at the contact: no one had touched me like that since my mutation had manifested, even with gloves, like he was. I didn't want to ruin the moment by misinterpreting his intentions, but I hesitantly brought my own hands so that they were curled around his neck. Our faces were millimetres apart: I could have counted his eyelashes. His dark eyes looked into mine, and for a second I thought I was going completely insane. He had closed that tiny gap, bringing his lips to mine for the most perfect of moments.

"Logan!" I breathe, half in awe, and half in panicky concern: he shouldn't have done that! He'll get hurt – and…I couldn't bear to keep on hurting him. Yet, at the same time, I rather desperately wanted to take him in my arms and do it again. Well, he solved that one for me pretty fast…

The second kiss was slightly longer and more forceful than the first, but my skin was starting to affect him. With a sigh, he broke away, and leant against the wall, trying not to pass out. It could be hard to explain why he was out cold this time.

"Y'all right?" I asked, feeling terrible for his pain "I'm – "

"Don't you dare apologise for that," he told me, managing to stand quite steadily, and grinning. I almost sighed in relief. He was ok, and he didn't look as if he regretted it. I knew I didn't.

Smiling a little at the memory, Rogue brought her focus to the computer screen, her fingers hovering a few centimetres from the keys, wondering what part of "book" or "journal" the X-geeks didn't understand. She rolled her eyes, and stared blankly at the stark white screen. In fact, when she'd asked for something to write down all the goings on around her, she hadn't even got a computer, seeing as they clearly didn't understand the meaning of books. She'd got a memory stick. A little sleek black one, with a tiny engraved "X" on it. 4GB. If Logan hadn't returned by the time she'd filled that, she didn't think he was coming back. Because writing that much would take a bloody age.

This whole journal/memory stick thing had started the day after he'd left, when the Professor had noticed that Rogue was looking unusually subdued at the back of his physics class, her hand clutching at something that was dangling around her neck, not talking to anybody. He had guessed correctly first time as to what was bothering her (which was when she discovered that he knew about the whole middle-of-the-night meeting thing with Logan, and weirdly, wasn't overly concerned. Ok, a bit, but he didn't go on too much.) and suggested, that while he was away, she should write down everything that went on, how she was feeling...

Wow, this is a little awkward. I keep kind of thinking about what would happen if someone found this, and stuck it into a computer and actually read it…but I suppose it wouldn't be any different if I actually had used a book. Because anyone can pick that up and read it, or whatever. Ok, so it was always going to be hard to write down feelings, I guess. Just making excuses.

Well, I guess the main thing that's bothering me at the moment is missing Logan. Really, I know it sounds sort of, weak in a way, but I do. I mean, it's not serious: I'm not breaking down or sobbing uncontrollably or trying to kill myself, I just really wish he was back. There's constantly this little ache, and it gets worse when I'm down and just really want a hug, because I think of him and his cigar and leather smell. And his bone crushing hugs. Ok, so that makes me tear up a little. But that was just once. And, to be fair, all I could here was p!nk singing in the background – her "Please Don't Leave Me" song. Ugh, it was embarrassing. Had to explain to poor Jubes and Kitty why I'd just turned into a fountain.

Rogue paused for a second, pushing a strand of white from her face, and grinning. It had been priceless, the looks on her friends faces, as she attempted to explain why she suddenly started crying in the middle of the bedroom. Of course, both had been very sympathetic, and offered her millions of tissues, coffee, blankets… it had really helped strengthen their friendship. Plus, it also gave her two people her own age she could talk honestly about Logan to – because they now knew that their relationship was more than friendship. It had been a little weird, opening up to them, but she was glad that she'd done it. Maybe she should put something like that on this – thing.

Ok, so it was pretty nice to have some people that now properly understand me: and I'm not just talking about the Logan thing – I mean, I was considering letting him read a bit of this, when he gets back, and if it's just page after page about him: well he might be just a little scared. Not to mention his head would inflate so much, he probably wouldn't even be able to run away from me, because he wouldn't fit out the doorway. Oh God, I just made myself laugh. Ok, so I said I was off the Logan subject. No more writing about him for…ooh…at least another few pages. So, plenty has been going. I mean, it must have been a few weeks ago Xavier had the amazing idea of keeping a journal, but I just haven't really got round to doing it. I mean, I did a few entries the day he suggested it, but they were a bit crap, so I deleted them.

So, like I said, there has been far more stuff happening, than just me sitting in a corner thinking about – uh – him. Like Bobby trying to operate an oven. I swear, I have never laughed quite so much. He was doing ok, trying to prove to Kitty that he was, in fact, capable of cooking something more complicated than toast (which he normally burns – I should know: I eat breakfast with him). So, he was making a cake: got all the ingredients mixed up, and it didn't have too many bits of the broken eggshells still stuck in it. It looked like it was actually going to be a pretty good cake. So, anyway, he stuck it in the oven, turned up the heat and waited. We were all standing in the kitchen: that is, me, Kitty, Bobby, Jubes and John – to make sure no one nicked the cake if we weren't there when it was done. And then – this is the good bit – Bobby starts showing off with ice, making shapes and everything, we even got some hail. In the kitchen. Storm wasn't too pleased. I'm not sure if he was showing off for my benefit or Kitty's, but whatever. The point is, as he did this, one of his hands was on the oven, and he wasn't exactly concentrating on his power: he was being really exuberant, and trying to show how natural and easy it was. So, when we opened the oven about half an hour later, the whole inside was frozen solid. Bobby: if you're trying to impress a girl, DON'T freeze the cake. Seriously. Ice flowers sure are pretty, but they've got NOTHING on cake. Still, it tasted pretty good, I guess. Kind of like ice cream. Not to mention the wounded expression on his face when he realised what he'd done. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

Rogue paused, and decided that, for one day, she'd written enough, and pressed the "save" button. She didn't think, if she did at some point decide to show this to Logan, he'd really appreciate page after page of stories about Bobby, particularly as she'd just described him as cute. He'd probably rather have the obsessive stalker ones about him. Laughing a little, Rogue added that to the bottom of the page, copied the entry onto her memory stick, deleted it from the computer (if she didn't, it would be just begging to be read), and left, switching the light off as she left.

Rogue was woken next morning by Jubilee screeching about something or other, and Kitty, sitting up in bed, grinning at whatever the other girl was yelling. Jubes was already dressed, and had clearly had breakfast already, and had news from the hall.

"Rogue!" she said excitedly, rushing over to her bed. "Rogue, you are never gonna guess who's here!!"

Groaning, Rogue managed to sit up, and was greeted with such a vivid yellow, she thought her eyes were going to bleed. Yelping, she hugged the duvet around her legs, and backed away from her friend.

"Jubes, what are you wearing?"

"What, this?" she replied, plucking at the glaringly bright yellow hoodie she was wearing "I borrowed it off a friend...but you're ignoring the question. Guess who's here!"

Unwillingly, Rogue swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and felt a wave of Logan grouchiness wash over her.

"Santa Claus," she muttered moodily. It was way too early in the morning to play guessing games with a girl in a bright yellow hoodie. Instead, she loped over to the mirror, and was unsurprised to be met with the usual explosion of brown and white hair obscuring half of her face. There were the usual purple circles there too, mainly because her irritatingly early rising friends. And the fact that for the past month or two, she had stayed up half the night, writing entries in her 'journal'.

"Nope!" Jubilee said, the same massive smile still spread across her face, and an annoying knowing look in her eyes. Would it kill her to tell her, so she could go back to bed? "If you're not going to guess, you'll have to go down to breakfast," Jubilee announced, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes, and sitting herself on the edge of Rogue's bed.

"Fine," Rogue snapped. She wasn't usually this short with her friends, but it was meant to be the holidays, and it was bloody early. Deciding it wouldn't kill the student population if she went to breakfast in her pyjamas, Rogue slipped on her gloves, and trudged down the corridor. Whoever this person was had better be worth seeing.

There were about a dozen people in the hall when she got there, most eating bits of toast, and thankfully some were wearing pyjamas too, which made her feel a little less self-conscious. She glanced around, and couldn't see anyone different to usual. It was mostly the younger students that were up at this ridiculous hour, and of course the staff: Jean, Storm, Scott, Xavier and Logan. Where the hell was this mystery person?

Hang on.

Logan.

LOGAN!!

A huge grin spread across her face, and her bad mood evaporated almost instantly. He was sprawled in a chair, looking carelessly beautiful as normal: tight white shirt and jeans, with his leather jacket thrown over the back of the chair. Storm had noticed her, and with a serene smile, Rogue saw her tap Logan on the shoulder, and nod in Rogue's direction. Shit, perhaps she should have got dressed. Why did she not guess that it was Logan? She'd spent hopeless weeks running to the window every time she heard the doorbell. But now: well, she supposed that she'd almost given up on him coming back, and was a little ashamed of herself. She should have believed him; he'd said he'd be back. Now he was.

And now he was striding towards her and pulling her into an almost painfully tight hug, as if he didn't know about her skin. That was one of the things she loved about him: he treated her like he would someone with normal skin, just he now had a tendency to wear gloves, so he could. She breathed in, inhaling his beautiful cigar and leather smell. She had missed him so bad, and prayed that she wouldn't cry all over him. C'mon, Marie. Hold it together.

"Hey there, kid," he murmured, breaking away.

"Hey, Logan," was all she found she could manage.

They walked out of the dining hall together: her padding along the corridor in her bare feet, his shoes slightly louder beside her.

"You look like you've been dragged through a hedge," he commented, a smile spreading across his face slowly, eyes taking in her messy hair, and the buttons down the front of her pyjamas, which were done up in the wrong holes. Yup, she definitely should have made a tiny bit of an effort.

"Yeah, well Jubes woke me about five minutes ago, making me guess who tha' hell was here. Ah never guessed it was you. Would've probably got dressed if Ah'd have known."

"I'm just pleased ta see you," he confessed, winding an arm around her waist, and slowing their pace to almost a standstill. She wasn't sure where they were going, but she didn't really care. It was hugely comforting to feel him next to her again.

"Ah missed ya, ya know." She said, as they ambled down the corridor towards the cool spring sunshine pouring in through every window. He had disengaged himself from her, she noticed, and wondered if she'd been a little clingy. Oops.

"I didn't find anything," he admitted, his voice more downcast than before, and Rogue felt that she had been a little selfish, expecting him to just be interested in her as soon as he returned. She'd almost (not quite) forgotten the reason he'd left in the first place in her eagerness for him to return. She was a little ashamed of herself for that, too.

"Nothin'?"

"Nothin'" he repeated, sounding a little resigned. "I mean, it kind o' felt familiar. But nothin' concrete. No memories. Still nothin', Marie." His voice was rising a bit now, and she stayed silent, letting him get it off his chest. "Do you know how shitty it is, not knowing anything about your past? I thought that leaving would help, but all I get is the same damn amnesia I've always had, and am gone so long you've practically forgotten my existence."

Rogue blinked several times, wondering if she had heard that right. Forgotten his existence? She couldn't if she tried, and she certainly hadn't. In any case, the thought certainly didn't make him look very cheerful, which was nice, in a way: in fact his mood was probably better described as "black". He looked as if he was in that frame of mind where he would snarl unexpectedly at passing small children, scaring the hell out of them. She grabbed his arm and steered him round a corner, hopefully away from said small children.

"Logan, how can ya think that?" she asked him incredulously, glaring at him. "Ah was gonna avoid recounting tha' obsessive period after ya left, 'cause ah thought ya'd run a mile if ya knew."

He raised an eyebrow, and she could almost see his dark mood evaporating as he leaned towards her, smirking a little.

"Go on."

"Um," she began, looking determinedly at her feet, feeling his eyes burning into her. She felt her cheeks flushing, and lowered her head further towards the floor. "I…well I kind of used ta look out the window every time I heard a vehicle, in case…" she sucked a breath between her teeth. This was horrible. "And…"

Two gloved fingers brushed down the side of her face, and she stopped, biting her lip uncertainly. They came to rest under her chin, where they tilted her face upwards, to look at him. He wasn't laughing, which was a relief; but it was better than that: he was wearing one of his rare gentle smiles. She wasn't kidding, she had missed him like hell.

"I missed you too, kid." He told her, contemplating her, the corners of his mouth turning up a little more "More than anything."

He closed the gap between their faces (it was a kind of unspoken agreement, Rogue thought, that he instigated the kisses, as it was him, after all, that would be hurt from them) and for the briefest of seconds there was nothing but him and her, and a passionate kiss. But he had to break away all too quickly, breathing hard.

"Are – "

She didn't even manage to finish her question before he claimed her mouth again, a more animalistic look in his eyes in addition to the softer expression: and pushed her against the wall, kissing her hard. Mmm, she could get used to this…

He broke away again, this time swaying rather dangerously, and Rogue grabbed his arm in alarm. He was barely in the door, and she was going to end up dragging him to the Infirmary already.

"Aw, shit Logan, Ah'm sorry!" she cried, hauling him round so he was leaning against the wall. At least he wouldn't have head injuries to add to her life-sucking-ness. He did look pretty white, and she could see him gritting his teeth, trying not to pass out. Now that could be interesting to explain to Doctor Grey: Hey, me and Logan were kissing and now he's half dead. A hand?

Aha, no.

She tried her best to support him, arms round his middle, almost pinning him to the wall to keep him upright. After a minute or so he seemed able to support himself better, and his eyes stopped trying to roll into the back of his head. Good, his healing was coming back.

"Doesn't it kinda suck?" asked him, pushing herself away from him, smiling a little sadly. He didn't answer, just looked at her calmly, and crossed his arms across his chest. She had a suspicion he knew where she was going. "Ah mean…almost passing out everytime ya touch me?"

"No."

Ok, then. Not that she was complaining or whatever, but from what she'd heard about Logan's life the past few years, it wasn't the answer she would have got the day she met him. Definitely not. Nonetheless, it made her feel guilty. It had been bothering her since she had first kissed him, that they could never ever be a proper couple. Or: not what the world would see as a proper couple. Only able to touch with gloves or for a few seconds. If he wanted it, then she was happy to follow him anywhere. But she felt that he deserved someone better, someone who he could have a proper relationship with, not having to worry about skin contact, because it was just natural.

"Marie, what'cha worried about?"

"You."

"Why the hell would'ya be worried about me?"

Rogue took a deep breath. She had to give him the chance to walk away, because it was only fair. It sounded melodramatic and self-sacrificing or whatever, but no one deserved to be stuck with the girl who was untouchable. But, it turned out, she didn't need to say anything at all.

"Oh." He said suddenly, realisation dawning on his face as he looked at her expression. "Marie, you aren't thinkin' that I don't want you because of the touching thing?"

"Not exactly…" she begun, looking at him and biting her lip uncertainly "Just that: well ah don't think anyone should have ta be with a person who nearly sucks them to death every time they – well it's not fair on ya, Logan."

"Sure it is: kid, if it wasn't fair, I'd be gone. An' I'm not. I came back, right?"

She nodded, feeling a little more hopeful. He hugged her, and she was extra careful to turn her head to the side, so that her hair separated their skins.

"Yup," she mumbled into his chest, grinning.

There we go. Finished! :D Hope you enjoyed, but I'd appreciate you telling me either way ;) Reviewwww...mayyybbbeee? *appealing smile*