Disclaimer: Everything that doesn't belong to me, doesn't. And whatever does, does.

Word Count: 1,786

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Chapter 2: Anxiety and Abrupt Returns

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Rogue paced the rec room floor, wringing her hands. The X-Men were coming home today. In just an hour or two, everyone who knew about her powers – and judged her by them – would be back. Would her successes in touch continue in an environment of blatant distrust? She gnawed at her lip, brows furrowed.

Scott gazed at her steadily from the sofa. He knew better than to reach for her bare hands just now. Her distress, her fear activated her powers.

He should know. They had experimented with her powers that last week, discovering how they worked and what triggered them. Granted, they didn't have scientific testing to back up their tests, but it was clear that emotions – especially those expressing danger – set off her powers.

Now that she wasn't so frightened by her own skin – an emotion which subconsciously activated her powers – Rogue experienced a myriad of joy and calm and trust and excitement in Scott' presence.

They spent several hours every day in the Danger Room training. It was far different from the exercises the Junior X-Men were allowed to participate in. Cyclops was 'tutoring' her. He was steadily building up her expertise in hand-to-hand combat, and with each passing day, he gave her clearance to the next level of simulations in the Danger Room. He joined her in each session, but – instead of taking charge like he would on a mission or leaving everyone to fight individually like Wolverine would have – he subtly guided her.

What's the situation? Any immediate danger? What's our first step? Which of us should take point? How would our differing powers/experience help or hinder the mission? How can we use our environment to our advantage? Does the mission plan leave us vulnerable in any way? What are our alternatives? Plan B? How can we blend in? If the other X-Men or Junior X-Men were here, which of them would be best suited to this mission?

He was her very own Mr. Miyagi. No, he was more than that. Scott was showing her how to not only survive as an X-Man but how to thrive. He was leading her into a position of authority in the X-Men – an equal partner. And God, she wanted that so much!

The way he was teaching her made her feel like a woman – capable, if a little inexperienced. But Scott never doubted she could do it, that she could become his equal on the field of battle. Even before their daily discussions began, Rogue could feel it, in and out of the Danger Room – that sense of mutual acknowledgment when they would pass each other in the halls. There was recognition in each other's eyes. Alone, they were good, great even. Together, they could be outstanding.

Under his tutelage, Rogue was coming into herself as a warrior. He never held back while sparring – only set conditions. No powers this round. This time, no using our arms. Have you ever used a stave? Blindfolded, now…

Logan had always held back. Rogue couldn't entirely hold it against him, though. He didn't have the same control that Cyclops did. In spite of his extensive training in Japan, the Wolverine was like his namesake, wild and destructive and sometimes enraged. He was protective, yes, but he could or would not rein himself in. Rogue knew that when he drank or smoked or fucked, he does it in excess. When he fights, he unleashes his claws and dives in, never mind the odd slash on his chest or blast to his arm. It'll heal.

That wasn't the sort of thing that could or should be taught.

Cyclops, in comparison, held little to no resemblance to his namesake. In Homer's Odyssey, the Cyclops, Polyphemus, is shepherd, man-eater, and drunk, rude and largely ignorant. Though the son of the ocean god, he is easily tricked by the wily Odysseus.

Cyclops – her Cyclops – is nothing like that. Scott is shrewd. If Logan was a wolverine, then Scott Summers was a jungle cat. He was aware of every muscle in his body, every movement. His surroundings are noted and assessed constantly, and plans, threats, and people are being weighed. Scott moves with grace and economy, no undue energy expended where it's not needed. He was always ready.

This is what he teaches her.

Rogue can already feel the changes in her body. Her muscles could be at ease and still ready to exert themselves at a moment's notice. Her mind, too, had become sharper, better prepared to assess and face threats. With the changes in both body and mind, a new wellspring of confidence had sprung up in the young woman.

Unlike her mutant abilities, the freedom derived from her hand-to-hand and strategy training left her empowered and better aware. Rogue could feel the push and pull of her muscles as she walks with a panther's ease. She noticed now the dramatic sway of her hips when she's angry – and the look on Scott's face when he sees it. For the first time in her life, she doesn't feel weak.

Scott Summers turned her into a predator. Aware. Disciplined. Powerful. Sexy.

Rogue paused mid-pace. Scott had transformed her into a predator.

The week spent alone had been her growing into an adult – someone with a complete and realized identity. Accepting and appreciating herself had only been the first step, though, she realized. Accepting her skin had given her a measure of control – of both her powers and her life. But Scott… Scott had helped her tame them.

The difference between a killing machine and a shrewd predator was discipline. Now, Rogue could proudly claim to be the latter.

Scott and Rogue's more private lessons were also confidence boosting. Besides instances of wandering hands on both sides, the two hadn't gotten much further than kissing and caressing.

Still, it was like releasing a dam inside her each time they touched. First tentative, searching, checking that her power was turned off. A small leak of affection in held hands or barely-there caresses. Then wider and wider – kisses and nuzzles and nips. Finally a torrent of exploratory, drugging kisses and massaging, roaming hands. It was blissful. And thank God that her powers discriminated between adrenaline derived from fear and from…. arousal.

Rogue felt like an entirely new woman.

The trouble was, how was everyone else going to react? How would they treat her now? The same? As an adult? Like an equal? How would they take the burgeoning relationship between her and Scott? Fury? Resignation? Disapproval? Did she dare hope for acceptance? Would the Professor accept this shift? What if he didn't?

"Please, Rogue, relax."

Scott was calm. How in the blazes was he calm? Still. The even tone of his voice and that 'please' had her tension unwinding with barely a thought. It was moments like that where Rogue was not sure that the Wolverine's instincts had completely left her system. Sometimes that particular authoritative pitch in Scott's voice undid her and had her complying. After Danger Room sessions, the smell of his sweat made her eyes dilate. Despite Cyclops training her to become his partner, those deep-seated animal instincts acknowledged him as the more powerful, the more experienced of the two. He was wonderful and she trusted him as she did no one else.

How strange. Rogue trusted this man. Besides the tenuous kinship she felt with Logan, when was the last time that had happened?

"Are you feeling a bit better now?"

She took in a deep breath before pouting her lips. A reluctant sigh. "Maybe."

The edges of his mouth quirked. "Good. You're not the same person you were when everyone left – best to make sure they know it from the onset. They'll get over it faster that way."

Rogue returned his grin, a light blush of pleasure blooming on her cheeks. She loved it when he recognized her hard work, and she loved even more the pride she could hear in his voice for her accomplishments. "I couldn't do any of it alone," she reminded, voice soft.

He shrugged, a casual smile on his lips. "So," he began, tangling his bare fingers with hers before drawing their hands into his lap. "Now that you're calming down, why don't you tell me what you're least looking forward to with everyone's return?"

Rogue quirked a brow. "Are you trying to get me worked up again?" The red lenses of Scott's glasses gazed steadily into her eyes, silent and unwavering. She sighed in defeat, lifting her free hand up to play with a strand of her hair. "I still haven't forgiven Logan. Or Jean. He considered using me and my powers as a means to get you and Jean to break up. And something weird is up with her. Sure, she's always been a bit curious about what's in people's heads, but lately… Jean's been taking things – everything – too far." She paused, giving his hand a squeeze before continuing. "I also don't know how to react to them as a couple. I mean, Jean cheated on you. Logan knew what he was getting into – Jean isn't some slut in a bar that he can fuck without considering consequences. When they got together, you were still Jean's fiancé…"

She gazed earnestly at Scott's face. "It's weird but I feel sort of betrayed and disgusted on your behalf. But… at the same time, I'm sort of grateful?"

Withdrawing his left hand from hers, he slung his arm over her shoulders, drawing her into him before allowing his right hand to envelope her pale hand in his lap. "I know what you mean, Rogue. If they hadn't started their affair, I might still be trying to make things work with Jean. Our relationship might not have been easy or particularly fun but—"

"—You still would've given it your all, even if it meant having to occasionally grin and bear it." Rogue's smile was half admiration, half pity. Nuzzling further into his shoulder, she remarked, "Sometimes, Scott, you're too good. At times, a little selfishness is in order."

Giving her shoulders a fond squeeze, Scott grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkling into laugh lines behind his shades. "Well, that's what you're here to teach me, right sensei?"

Adopting a clichéd Asian kung-fu master voice, she replied, "Much you must learn, young grasshopper."

It was as they were laughing, bodies curved into each other on the couch, that the mansion's other residents returned home. Or, rather, the Professor, Jean, and Logan walked into the rec room.

The laughter stopped.

The Professor's smooth English accent interrupted the silence. "Scott, Rogue, would you both join me in my office? I'm looking forward to hearing about your vacation…"

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A/N:

Sorry if the first three chapters of this fic seem a bit prologue-ish. I'm trying to transition from the more meditative Contemplation into the more plot-driven Escalation. The only way I can figure to manage this is with lots of retrospective.

If anyone has ideas of how I could do things differently, please review and let me know. I am always editing chapters and replacing them – I would love to hear your feedback.

Again, sorry for the supremely long wait for updates. Would you be more sympathetic if I told you I'm a full-time student at university, working as an assistant, and playing a club sport with roughly 8 hours of practice per week?

Anyway. Sorry for the wait.