'I'm the only one who can stop it now. I know what I need to do.'

Yeah, right. How could he have known what to do when he didn't even know who he was?

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass in little rings, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair sitting off to one side of his room. The blinds were closed, but somehow light was still trying to press its way in, seeping through every crack and space in the shades. The darkness was what Logan wanted then, though, he felt at home in it. As long as he didn't nod off, he didn't have to think about what had happened, what he'd done. Sure, he couldn't stay awake forever, but to hell if he wouldn't try.

Downing the rest of his glass, he set it on the arm of the chair and leaned his head back. Maybe he was acting stupid, cutting himself off from life. The others were grieving too, right? The only difference was that they hadn't just killed someone they'd loved. He had. He could remember ever second, every single last moment of what happened, and it seemed destined to haunt him.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned foreword again, running his hands over his face. He'd already spent a week like this, only spending enough time around the students to try to build some semblance of normalcy. Maybe someday he'd move on, get over it, but it didn't feel like it yet. Not that any hint of thoughts like these would be passed on to the others. If there was one thing Logan despised above all others, it was the thought of their pity. A pity he didn't want, didn't need, and didn't even think of accepting. The world was full of enough pity for itself, they didn't need to add on to it.

Suddenly, a knock on his door brought him back to his senses. Glancing up, Logan didn't even bother to move out of the chair. Maybe if he ignored it, whoever it was would get the hint and scram. Unfortunately, whoever it was seemed to have other plans, and knocked again, louder this time.

"Yeah?" Logan answered, still sitting, forehead resting on his hands and rubbing his temples slowly, methodically.

"It's Bobby. Can you open the door?" Answered the muffled voice from the other side quickly, with a tinge of concern that didn't go unnoticed by Logan. Torn between his duties as one of the caretakers of the students and his own, admittedly selfish, desire to be left the hell alone, he paused. He doubted Bobby was there to comfort him, a thought which, ironically, was sort of comforting in its own way.

"Logan?"

"Alright, alright, hold on." Logan groaned, grabbing the cup and various bottles lying around the room and shoving them in the little shelf behind the chair. Standing, he pulled open the blinds a little more to let in some of the light, which poured in as soon as he pulled the string, "Come on in."

The door creaked open a little and Bobby inched in slightly, being careful not to come too far into the room. Shifting uncomfortably, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Logan stretched slightly as he waited for him to talk, but when he didn't speak up after a few seconds, he got sick of pretending to be patient. What was with him? If there was something so damn important to say he'd felt the need to track Logan down on his territory, he could have at least had the foresight to know what he was going to say. But there was some sort of air about Bobby; he could feel it, thick and almost tangible. It was guilt, or something much like it.

"Hey, kid, what's up?" He asked again, raising an eyebrow as he nodded to his chair in the corner and began to stack up some of the other glasses, "Need to sit down or something?"

Bobby shook his head quickly and glanced down at his feet, only reaffirming Logan's observation, "I didn't want to bother you. I tried to handle it myself and it didn't work, and Storm is impossible to find and I couldn't think of anything else to do."

Logan paused, now more apprehensive than irritated at being disturbed. Stopping, he turned around to face Bobby, looking him directly in the eye. His own problems could wait if something was really wrong. For even when he tried to ignore the problems around him, his instincts wouldn't consider it, especially when a member of the team was concerned.

"It's Rogue." Bobby went on as he met Logan's eyes, "She got the shot and now she's leaving. I thought you'd know what to do. She doesn't trust me any more. It's all my fault, I shouldn't have-"

But Logan had already stepped past him and headed down the hall and up the stairs.

-----

As Logan glanced into Rogue's room from her open doorway, he saw only how right Bobby had been. Sitting wide open on her small bed was her duffle bag, already more than half full of the things that had been scattered around her room an hour before. The sun was shining clear through her windows, illuminating the room in a soft, morning glow and then reflecting off of her in a way almost making her seem ethereal. Appropriate, he mused, as there were times she'd seemed otherworldly since he'd met her, such as in her uncanny ability to put up with him. That talent alone had initially earned her some begrudging respect from him, and eventually, friendship.

She hadn't noticed him yet, so he leaned against the entryway, arms crossed, watching her thoughtfully. There was just something about the way she was folding her clothes and pressing them in the suitcase that seemed settled. Not content, but certainly determined. With the last shirt from off her bed being folded neatly, she began to look up, finally noticing Logan. Taking a sharp breath, she almost dropped the t-shirt, but caught herself right in time.

"Logan! What're you doing here?" She asked, abnormally sprightly and surprised, shoving the shirt in the bag and stepping between it and him, almost as if she were hoping he hadn't noticed it yet. He and she both knew he had, but if the façade would make her a little more...normal, he was willing to put up with it.

"Did you think you could leave without saying goodbyes?" He said with his usual cocked smile, stopping himself right before he finished with his traditional 'kiddo'. Something about that just didn't sound right anymore. Maybe it was how mature she seemed just then, how calm and adult, or maybe how much she'd gone through. Regardless, she was definitely not the scared- but surprisingly bold- little thing that he picked up in Canada however long ago that was.

"Of course not." Rogue said, seeming to relax when she realized he knew. But the slump in her shoulders spoke of more than that and in a second, the coolness she'd seemed to exude before vanished, "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you guys. You're like...family." She finished, slightly lamely.

"I hope you mean that in a good way." Logan commented, still not moving. Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure there was very little space left in the doorway for her or her bag to pass through. There was a small silence between them, and then he spoke, his voice a touch more serious than before, "You don't have to leave."

Rogue laughed dryly, "Well I can't really stay, can I? I mean, I'm not exactly a 'gifted youngster' anymore." She deliberately turned back to her suitcase and began to slide things in with more intensity than before, "And I can't help out on the team without any powers, so there goes that. I don't fit."

"You still fit." Logan reassured her, suddenly a little bothered by how dead-set she was about going. He hadn't expected to get so much resistance, and now that he was...well, it was concerning. Not that he would let it bother him; he was still in control, just the way he liked things to be.

"Thanks, but you don't have to lie to me. I'm old enough to know better now." Rogue stated bluntly, and Logan couldn't help but agree, as much as he didn't want to.

"Where are you going?" He questioned, trying again. There had to be someway to dissuade her, he just hadn't found it yet, "Staying with your family?" He knew that answer was a definite no. Something in the back of his mind felt a little malicious about using that as manipulation, but he ignored it.

"No." She replied as she began to work the zipper on the duffle closed, "I think I'll head back up to Canada. There was this trip," She began to explain, more to reassure herself than him, "I always wanted to take when I was in high school, and I never finished it. I...I think that's what I'll do."

All Logan could remember when she mentioned Canada was that run in with the Beast, and then how the car had caught on fire and she'd gotten trapped inside while he'd had the crap beaten out of him. She'd almost died than. In fact, the only thing he could think of was all the danger he'd ever known. He'd already lost most of his team, he didn't want to let another get any farther from safety...from him than they had to. If she went off on her own, out to God knows where, and anything happened, he couldn't get there. His stomach felt sick at the thought, but he kept his cool, hard appearance. The truth was that he'd run out of reasons for her to stay. At least the reasons he could put words to, the ones he could express.

"Look, I've got to go now or I won't make the train." She finished, getting the zipper all the way closed. Pulling the bag off the bed, she stepped up right in front of Logan and met him directly in the eye.

"I'll miss you." She began quietly, and then added almost as a hurried afterthought, "But, I mean, I'll keep in touch..."

"You'd better." Logan said, harsher than he meant to.

After a moment of silence, Rogue dropped the handle of her bag and flung her arms around his neck, squeezing him solidly. He almost backed up out of habit, waiting for the searing pain of having his powers pulled away, but it didn't hurt, not even the slightest shiver. It was then he remembered the antidote and wished he could feel the agonizing burning again, that everything would go back to normal. Putting his arms around her back, he felt almost completely lost. Yes, the great Wolverine, the beast among men, was being defeated by none other than his own human mind.

Finally, Rogue backed up and picked up the handle of her bag again, dragging it behind her down the hall. Turning at the steps she waved.

"Goodbye, Logan."

He didn't say anything, too stunned to even process what he was seeing with his own two eyes. It was impossible, she couldn't have just left. Not another one. Hadn't three been enough? How much more would he have to live through? His whole life he'd been alone, and then he'd come here, been formed into part of a team, and finally found some security that he wouldn't admit he needed. Now that it was all slipping away, it was like a smack of reality from out of the blue.

It was then he realized just how alone he truly was.