You Are Loved

Takes place directly after the end of the first X-Men movie

The glow had left Rogue's face that afternoon with the fading roar of Scott's—Logan's—motorcycle. She stood alone now in the warm darkness of the wood-paneled entryway, biting her lip, the strands of new white hair falling across her worried face, standing sleepless vigil by the door as if she could stretch out her cursed hand and make it open, make him come back.

"Rogue?"

As she looked up, Rogue's face resumed its habitual defensive mask—safely emotionless and blank. But in front of Jean's anxious eyes, she let it drop again.

"I didn't want him to go." Her softly accented voice hovered somewhere between dry sobs and defiance.

The older woman smiled with her mouth, but her eyes stayed anxious. In a moment she was at the front window, peering out onto the night-black road. Rogue watched her shoulders slowly straighten and heard a tiny sigh. She's relieved, the younger mutant realized with shock. She's glad he's gone.

"He has important work to do for the Professor, and we shouldn't wish him back," said Jean, taking a step towards the hallway. "Don't worry about him, Rogue."

"He has enemies. He could be dead already," Rogue spat. The doctor's briskness made her clench her gloved hands in frustration.

"Not likely with that healing factor of his." Jean paused, every feature in a beautiful line in the window's few rays of moonlight.

"But—" Jean's cool adult logic was rubbing Rogue's fiercely adolescent emotions raw. "But he won't be here." Surely lovely and intelligent Dr. Grey, of all people, understood what it was to miss a man? Well, more than a man. Only the kindest, deadliest, and funniest mutant man she'd ever hope to meet. To her shame, a tiny tear escaped Rogue's control and slid traitorously down her cheek.

"Oh, Rogue." Jean sighed and leaned forward to catch the tear, clipped red hair swinging around her ears, but Rogue sniffed angrily and fended off her hand.

"I'll hurt you. It's all right."

Jean straightened. The stifled expression of pity and guilt in her eyes was easy for the younger mutant to recognize, even through mounting tears. The doctor spoke abruptly and self-consciously.

"I'll say good night, then."

Rogue kept silent with difficulty, blinking hard to keep her eyes dry, mentally imploring Dr. Grey to put an arm around her shoulders and bring her hot chocolate and let her cry and sob and rock her to an exhausted sleep.

But "Don't worry about him," was all Jean said, laying the lightest of hands on Rogue's covered shoulder. "He'll be back before you know it."

Don't you believe me? I miss him. And Dr. Grey was leaving her with the door he had left by and her silly dreams that she wanted to be told weren't silly after all. Dr. Grey was going back to her husband's safe embrace, to her warm, safe room, because this was her home and Rogue was just the new kid, the charity case, another freak in the gallery.

She knew her treacherous thoughts weren't true, she knew she was just exhausted and bursting with sadness, but Rogue's mouth was open almost before she realized what she was about to say.

"He's in love with you and you don't even care."

She saw Jean stop, stiffen, whirl to face her, wordless.

"It's true," Rogue said, plunging the dagger in deeper and hating the sense of triumph she felt as she did so.

"Rogue, you're not old enough to understand," the poised and perfect doctor finally managed, but the younger mutant knew she had hit home.

"You are so lucky," said Rogue, and the tears stained her face silently.

The silence was thick between them as they faced each other across the moon-silvered shadows.

"So are you," said Jean finally.

"No one—"

"Think about it, Rogue." Jean came close to her, tall, commanding, her voice calm over righteous anger. "How many people risked their lives for you?"

"That was a mission." Rogue shook her head stubbornly. "That was Magneto. I just happened to be there. And it was my fault, too. Otherwise—"

"So we X-Men don't love each other like brothers and sisters, is that what you're saying?"

"But I'm not—"

Jean gave a huff of exasperation.

"How many women, do you suppose, have had the man they loved nearly die to save them?"

How could she forget waking from Magneto's terror to see Logan bleeding and unconscious at her feet?

"The mission—" she tried.

Half of Dr. Grey's mouth quirked upwards. "Go to bed, Marie. And stay there this time."

"But—"

"On second thought," Jean said, seeing Rogue's proud eyes struggling between acceptance and stubborn self-pity, "why don't I make you some hot chocolate?"

Breaking her rule against unannounced telepathy was worth it, Jean decided, for the look on Rogue's tear-streaked face.