Title: Matter

Rating: K+

Notes: Two mutants talk. Set after X3.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine.

It wasn't hard to find him. She had faded memories of playing chess in a park, somewhere in New York city, before he had met Charles. Now that she was 'cured', nobody questioned where she went. Now she was part of the team, nobody thought twice about letting her have the keys to one of the cars – one of Scott's ones, or it had been – and letting her go into the city for a day.

It was easy, to slide into the seat opposite him and set up the chess pieces with bare fingers, not looking at him to see his reaction.

"White goes first," she reminded him at last, when it seemed he would not speak, would not break into the gentle noise that surrounded them from the others of the park. She stared intently at the chessboard, watching as one hand hovered over the chess pieces for a moment before picking it up and moving it forward two paces.

"You took the cure." His voice is heavy and censuring. She finds her mouth twists into a pathetic parody of a smile.

"You don't know what it's like, to never be able to touch," she told her bluntly. "Not even in the camps. It was bad there, but it was touching."

"You are so full of self-pity. You disgust me on occasion."

"Thanks," she said dryly, and moved a pawn. "But it's not like it's permanent." His hand, which had been reaching out to move a chess piece, froze. "Oh, they thought it was." Her tone was deliberately light and very controlled. "All the tests showed that it was permanent, or so they thought. They just didn't factor in enough time."

She looked at him now for the first time, and was surprised to see compassion in his eyes.

"And they didn't try it on class four mutants," she added. "They didn't do enough testing on it before it was made public. So you see…I can't really touch people anymore. I've seen Mystique – she's turning blue again. And you…" She gave a shrug. "It's only a matter of time. I mean, me – I'm just a class three mutant. My powers ain't that strong, no offensive capabilities…but you're a class four."

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again and moved the chess piece. "What do you want, Rogue, hm? Why did you come here?"

She leaned forward, ignoring the chess pieces. "I'm the only person you've got left, Erik. And you know it. So why shouldn't I come?"

"The only person," he repeated disdainfully.

"Look around, Erik," she said quietly. "You're where you were years ago. When you first got off that boat from Germany, when you were escaping your past, your childhood. That's what you are now. Escaping. Trying to bury yourself away." She leaned back, and folded her hands on the stone table between them. "Charles helped you. But now Charles is dead."

"I know he's dead," he snapped. "I saw it happen!"

She watched him in silence as a minute ticked by, then she shrugged one shoulder. "You've seen a lot of people die," she reminded him. "So have I. People we love. People we care about. Does it make a difference if it was Charles or not?"

He sighed heavily. "I suppose not. What is your point, Marie?"

"I don't think you want to be what you were," she said carefully. "I don't think you want to destroy people."

He snorted. "You may have some of my memories, Rogue, but you do not know me. Do not presume to think otherwise."

"I know you more than anyone else in the world does," she reminded him. "Before there was Charles. He's gone. But we're not."

"If you start spouting his doctrine at me," he began warningly, but she shook her head.

"I might live at the mansion, but I don't necessarily conform to his way of thinking," she told him. "Charles lived through a lot of bad things, but you and me…we're the same. We've seen things…" She shook her head. "Things aren't the way he wanted to see them," she said after a moment. "But we don't need a war, either. That ended when Jean died. It's ending now, with the cure fading away. People are gonna have to accept us, whether they want to or not."

"They don't want to."

"So we educate them." She regarded him coolly. "'The roots of education are bitter, but the fruits are sweet'," she quoted.

He tilted his head slightly. "Aristotle." She gave a slight nod. "That wasn't taught when I was at the school."

"No. It's not taught now. It's something I learned from you," she said honestly. "Please. I know you. You won't be content to live in obscurity, especially once your powers start coming back. You're still a wanted terrorist, Erik."

"What do you want?" he demanded harshly. "Do you want me to hide myself away for the rest of my life? It's not long, I'll grant you, but to live in obscurity?" His lip curled.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all," she said quickly, eyes wide. "I'd never – is that what you thought I came here to say?" He raised an eyebrow curiously at her. "No. God, no, Erik!" She looked repulsed by the very idea. "No. I was thinking…" She trailed off hesitantly and bit her lower lip.

"Don't," he said almost automatically, and reached out to brush his thumb over her mouth. He felt a throb of energy, not enough for her to take his energy, but enough so that they both knew it would not be long before she was the untouchable again.

"I am sorry it wasn't what you wanted it to be," he said after a while.

"I'm sorry for a lot of things," she said in a low voice. "Look, I'm not asking for you to go back to the mansion, to make nice with the X Men. I just want…" She trailed off and stared at him helplessly.

"Alright," he said, surprising both of them. A smile spread over her face for the first time since she had come here to find him. He smiled back. "It's not over, Rogue," he told her. "You don't know what you're doing, by befriending me."

She shrugged and continued to smile. "Does it matter that I don't know?"

He thought of Charles, all those years ago when they had been young men and in love, and he looked at this girl – this woman – in front of him, and he shook his head.

"No," he said quietly. "It doesn't matter."

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