I have not abandoned my other story; I just had this idea bouncing around and decided to get it out.

Chapter 1

She did not know why she felt the need to move clear across the country, she only knew that she had to. The young woman once known only as Rogue only knew that she had to get away from everyone she ever knew. Now she was a normal young woman, Anna Marie Raven, a student at Cal Poly University in Southern California studying photography. She had just turned twenty one and she had not been to her former home in nearly four years. She rarely contacted her former friends, teammates, and make-shift family; just a note to let them know that she was still alive. It was the beginning of December and she had agreed to go back for Christmas break; the professor had asked her to and he rarely did that sort of thing. All the arrangements had been made, she was to fly back to New York the next day and she was dreading it.

It was a beautiful day, seventy-nine degrees and there wasn't a cloud in the deep blue sky. She sat by the pond on campus, there was hardly anyone around because of the oncoming break and she wondered again why she was going to go back to a crowded house in New York where it was snowing. Rogue looked up at the sky again, it was so blue, and it reminded her of Carol's eyes. She shuddered at the memory of Carol and looked back at the pond. Carol was the reason she had left the Institute or at least one of reasons. She hated the way they all looked at her after it happened; as if their eyes hadn't held enough pity before. . . She hated their pity. She hated it as much as his indifference. Yes, he was another of the reasons she had for leaving. The reformed scoundrel/thief that had taken up residence just before that episode with Carol; Remy had pursued her until she relented and they had started a tentative relationship. But it didn't last; he didn't understand what she was going through, he just kept trying to pretend like they had no obstacles at all. She told him he was in denial, he told her she needed to make up reasons why they couldn't be together.

The day her high school class graduated, she wasn't with them; she was in the rose garden with him. They were alone at the mansion when he put his arms around her and told her he loved her; he told her he would give anything to be with her and that her powers didn't matter to him, they would find other ways to touch, to love each other. That had scared her more than going up against Apocalypse and she did the only logical thing she could think of; she ran. She ran all the way to California. She did love him, truly she did and she knew she would never love another that deeply no matter how much she tried. She loved him too much to subject him to a life like that; a sterile, cold, chaste life where the only touch he would feel would be through a glove. She couldn't give him a real life, a family, not even a proper kiss. She had to leave. She had to give him a chance to find happiness. She called him a masochist, he called her a coward, and that was the last time they had spoken to one another.

She had missed him terribly and there were times when she thought she felt him nearby. There were times at night when she would wake up from delicious, Cajun-spiced dreams because she could swear she could breathe in that scent of leather, tobacco and that spicy mix that was his alone. She would wake up because she would swear that she felt his breath on her cheek, his sultry voice in her ear, possessive, gloved fingertips tracing the lines of her face. And sometimes she would open her eyes in that place between sleep and awake because she could see the glowing embers of his eyes staring at her in the darkness. But then she would blink and he was gone. Then she would bury her face in her pillow so her roommate would not hear her cry herself back to sleep. After four years, the pain had not lessened any. After four years, she still wasn't sure that she could face him again.

She had changed a lot and she was sure he had too. The dark, Goth look she sported had softened into an elegant vintage/boho look, her hair had grown out past her shoulders and was usually stylishly cut, and her make-up accentuated her features rather than hiding them. But she had yet to control her primary power; her skin was just as deadly as ever. She brushed her platinum bangs out of her eyes and laughed inwardly, bitterly to herself, noting that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Surely after four years he would have realized that she had done the right thing. Surely in four years, he would have found someone else who could make him happy. As much as she despaired at the thought of him with someone else, she wanted him to be happy and hoped he didn't hate her anymore.

"Aren't you supposed to be packing?"

Rogue looked up at her friend and roommate, Paint, as everyone called her because of her numerous tattoos that covered most of her body. It was also her mutant power; to manipulate the pigment in her own and others flesh. Rogue had quite a few tattoos, courtesy of her friend; small ones that only needed a quick touch to accomplish. Even here, she couldn't get away from other mutants.

"Well?" the pretty, blond girl sat down on the grass across from Rogue and set down the stack of books she was carrying. "Are you stalling again?"

"No," Rogue laughed. "Ah'm nearly all packed. Ah just needed a break from it."

"I think you were trying to think up an excuse not to go back."

"Maybe Ah was," Rogue laughed. "Ah guess Ah just a little anxious."

"Because of him?"

Because of ev'rything."

"It won't get any easier, you know. The longer you put it off, the harder it's going to get."

"Looks like those philosophy classes o' yours are payin' off, shugah."

"I was just going to say the same thing about your grammar classes," Paint said dryly.

Both girls laughed and after a moment, Rogue closed her eyes and lifted her face up to the warm sun. "Can Ah tell y' a secret, Paint?"

"I wish you would."

"Ah'm terrified."

"Of?"

"Of things bein' too different, of things bein' exactly th' same. Of him hating me, of him forgiving me. Ah'd rather keep mah head in th' sand f'r th' rest o' mah life."

"But you know that will never make you happy."

"Ah am so eager to live life," Rogue looked back at her friend and opened her eyes. "But Ah'm so scared of it. Ah don't want to stay in the same place forever but Ah'm scared to move. Ah know that if Ah don't open the sail, Ah'll just end up moving with th' current for the rest o' mah life instead of plottin' mah own course."

"No one ever got anywhere by being frightened all the time and you're not one of those people who could be happy just going with the flow. You need to go back, Anna, and you need to face him."

"Ah know."

"You also know that if you don't, you'll regret it and you'll end up resenting him and yourself."

"Ah hate it when you're right. It's just that," Rogue paused before she said: "Ah just wish mah life wasn't so complicated."

"You can't expect someone with such extraordinary gifts to lead an ordinary life."

"Ah, guess you're right, Yoda."

"Come on," Paint chuckled. "I'll take you to lunch and then I'll help you finish getting packed."

"Gee, you're swell," Rogue teased as both girls stood.

"What's with this swell shit? I'm friggin' amazing."

Both girls laughed as they headed toward Paint's car that was parked nearby, but for Rogue the laugh was half-hearted. She was dreading the next day and what it would bring; she was dreading seeing Remy again and she hated that dread. She knew her only option was to face it all head on and try not to back down or falter from the weight that had been sitting on her shoulders for four years. She needed to lighten that load and going back was the only way to do that. She needed to straighten things out once and for all so she could finally get on with her life.