Disclaimer: Yes, I understand that I don't own ANY of'em. Doesn't stop me from wishing I did, though! Btw, OC's in later chapters are all mine.
Watching. Living. Being: Chapter 3
Dear Kitty, the letter read. I'm sure that the professor would have told all of you by now that I'm not coming back. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this before, but I knew you'd try to talk me out of it, and worse, I was afraid I might have listened.
I needed a change, Kit. I need to find out who I am. I'm tired of being Rogue. Maybe somewhere else, I can try to be Marie again. Or someone else. I just know that Rogue hasn't been happy for a while.
I wish I could be there to see my godchild be born (I'm still the godmother aren't I?) I know he's going to be a wonderful baby. And Kit, I know you're going to be a fantastic mother.
Tell the rest, ok? I've written Remy too, but I know he'd probably try to find me or blame himself for me leaving. I need you to make him stay away from me. I need to move on.
I know you don't understand why I'm doing this, or the way I'm doing this, but I had to do it this way.
I guess I never told you that you're the best friend I've ever had. I don't need a sister, cause I've got you.
Take care of Piotr and the rest. I know everyone sees a valley girl when they see you, but I know better. You're the best of us, Kit. I hope you remember that.
Love,
Rogue
Folding the letter away carefully, Kitty wept.
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Dear Remy, the letter read. There are so many things I want to apologise for. But I'll start with this. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye the way I wanted to, the way I should have.
I'm sorry I can't touch you, can't kiss you, can't hold you the way I've always wanted to, but never could.
But most of all, I'm sorry I never told you I love you. It's true. I can say it now, when I'm far away and won't have to see your face when I do. I love you, Swamp Rat. I think I've loved you ever since you gave me that damn Queen of Hearts. Do you know I've kept it all these years? I used to think that it was a symbol of hope, that we'd eventually be together.
But Remy, I've finally realised that we won't. That though things change, some things will always remain the same.
I'm leaving for many reasons, Rem. It's not just you. I need to know who I am without the X-Men, without the agony of being so close to you and never being able to touch you, without being Rogue. Maybe I can find that somewhere else.
So please don' blame yourself or try to find me. That's the one thing I'm asking you. Let me live my life.
Goodbye Remy. Take care of yourself.
Love,
Marie
Something fluttered from the envelope. Bending down to pick it up, he furiously wiped away the tears that fell as he realised what it was. It was a tattered, crumpled, Queen of Hearts.
Staggering out of the room, he went in search of the nearest bar. He needed some alcohol, something that would take the edge of this horrible choking feeling in his chest.
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Dear Professor, the letter read. Los Angeles is everything I've dreamed of and more. It's crowded, noisy, selfish and I absolutely love it.
I'm just someone in the crowd. I'm not a mutant, I'm not the weird girl in class, I'm nobody at all. And I love knowing that.
I've written Kitty and Remy. But that's all. If Kurt asks, tell him I'm happy and I'll find him when I'm ready.
I've found a job here, professor. It's nothing fancy, just a waitress who sings on band night, but it's a classy place, not a dive. The tips are good, and the customers behave themselves, mostly.
I've changed my name, by the way. It's not Rogue, or Marie. I'm now Angela Logan. I was going to use your name as my surname, but it's rather unusual, so I'm using Logan's. I hope he doesn't mind. I'm also working on losing my Southern accent. I think I'm halfway there.
Anyway, this is the last you're going to hear from me. If you need me, this is my current address. You know how else to find me.
Thank you for everything professor. I appreciate everything you've done for me.
Love,
Angela Logan.
P.S. Has a nice ring doesn't it?
Charles read the letter one more time, trying to imagine the Rogue he knew writing it. And he couldn't. The Rogue he knew would never have been so open about anything. He smiled. Maybe Angela Logan can make it after all. Alone in his study, he poured himself a shot of brandy, ignoring the tear that coursed down his cheek. "To Angela Logan," he said, raising the glass in a toast. "May her life be everything she wants it to be."