Marie, she decided to call herself today. She wasn't going to let the other students know that was her name today, nor anytime soon for that matter, but calling herself that seemed to alleviate some of the uptightness she awoke with this morning.

Last night had not been a good night's rest. She hadn't had any nightmares, thankfully, but Logan leaving so abruptly from her room had plagued her thoughts, making her restless. What had she done to scare him off so suddenly?

She had been able to calm down quite a bit once Logan had pulled her into his embrace, and she had enjoyed the feel of his upper arm on her bare hands. The touch of skin was still something she was mesmerized by, and perhaps she let her mind wander too far.

While Logan was no telepath, she had an inkling that he might as well be with his heightened senses. His reaction to the smell of her slight arousal probably answered any lingering questions she had on whether he had feelings for her.

Sighing, she made her way to the kitchen. It was well after breakfast time, and most of the kids were in school. Those that had graduated, which included Scott and Jean, would probably be doing some form of training in the Danger Room.

She was a graduate too, she reminded herself. A fairly recent one, but out of high school once and for all. She had taken an exit exam to finish a bit early, and had decided not to walk with Scott and Jean—it was probably a good thing, too, considering she had been under the control of Mesmero that day.

The thought brought a frown to her face, but as she entered the kitchen the frown contorted into shock at catching a rather private moment.

"Whoa," was all Marie said, covering her eyes with one of her gloved hands. Gloves were like a second skin to her, and she figured they could act as a precaution for now, despite Logan's pestering from the night before.

Scott and Jean, standing before her and rather intertwined, stopped their make out session with a couple of gasps. They quickly separated, straightening out their respective clothing. Scott spoke first.

"Rogue! Uh, sorry, we were...."

"I thought you were in isolation?" Jean inserted, seeing as Scott couldn't finish his statement. Her voice rang slightly of conceit, but Marie realized after a moment that it was probably more out of embarrassment from being caught. She ignored the bit of attitude and removed her hand from her face, even though she never really had completely blocked her vision. It's hard to look away from something you think about on a constant basis.

Well, not constant. She wasn't that bad off, yet.

"A girl's gotta eat," she said with a bit of a smirk, crossing her arms. "Ah didn't mean to interrupt, of course." She made her way over to the fridge while the other two looked on with faces cherry red.

She wondered how much of that was embarrassment, and how much was a result of the heat they were generating between each other. A bit of blush started to form from her own thoughts, then, and she hid it by shoving her face into the open door of the fridge.

"Well, we'll get out of your way," Jean finally said, practically dragging Scott along with her toward the exit to the hallway.

"Yeah," Scott added absentmindedly, but stopped the pull of his girlfriend before they made it to the door, looking back at Marie. "Hey, you know you don't have to hide in your room around us. Don't feel like you can't, you know, be yourself."

Marie looked up to see him smiling, and Jean smiled as if in agreement before continuing her exit, Scott in tow.

As the kitchen door swung shut, Marie sighed. She looked at the fruit bowl she had in her hand, and used her hips to shut the fridge door as she made her way back to the kitchenette. Scott's words echoed in her head, and she resisted the urge to slam the bowl onto the table as she sat.

Being herself was exactly what she didn't want to be right now, or ever again. She was Marie today, and she wanted to be Marie forever. She wanted to do to someone what Jean had been doing to Scott, to someone she really cared about. A particular image of a man began to form in her head, but she quickly dispelled it and focused on breakfast.

She pulled off her gloves and used her fingers to pick out the pineapple chunks in the bowl, her favorite fruit. She held one in the air, admiring it a bit before popping it into her mouth. So tangy and sweet, with a bit of sour, all surrounded by a tough—almost painful—exterior.

The fruit, too, her mind cryptically reminded her.


Marie made her way down to the combat room to get in some exercise. She decided to ditch the long sleeved shirt and sweat pants she usually wore in exchange for some exercise shorts and a tank top. No one was home to accidentally touch her, and Scott and Jean were most likely finishing their flogging in a more private place.

If they were in the combat room, so help her she'd kick both their asses. She wasn't in the mood to see anymore of that ... stuff.

She didn't need more visuals added to the thoughts she had been plagued with recently.

So when the doors to the room slid open with a hiss and she saw it wasn't empty, she opened her mouth to define the functions and purpose of a bedroom to the two.

"Hey kid," Logan panted, in mid kick to a punching bag. When his foot made contact, the bag hit the ceiling before swinging maniacally back and forth.

Marie's mouth was still slightly open from her stopped-short lecture, and she cleared her throat. "Oh, hey Logan." The door hissed shut behind her, causing her to jump a little.

Logan cocked an eyebrow at her, one of his trademark expressions. "Expecting someone else?"

Marie smiled, walking over to one of the mats on the other side of the room to begin her stretches. "No, you just startled meh, is all."

"I'm glad you're out and about," he changed the subject, grabbing a water bottle and taking a swig.

"Yeah. Figured most everyone's gone this time'a day. Ah think Ah'd go stir crazy cooped up, anyway." She suddenly felt very exposed in her attire, and decided to keep her gloves on while stretching.

Maybe he'd take the hint and leave.

"So you wanna spar?"

Guess not.

"Ah don't know, Logan, Ah'm not really dressed to." She indicated her attire as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You look dressed to me, Stripes." He smirked at her when she responded with a glare.

"You know what Ah mean."

Logan put his water bottle back on the shelf. "You aren't gonna hurt me, Marie. And worse case scenario, I heal. You can't drop me like the others."

Marie had her hands resting on her hips, but said nothing. He, unfortunately, had a point. She realized, almost absent mindedly, that she had actually never absorbed Logan. Ever.

Even during Apocalypse, she had never touched him like the others. She wondered if it was because Apocalypse already had some form of healing capability. That would explain why he had lived for so long.

She briefly contemplated what it'd be like to have Logan inside her head, but thought better of it. He had said that he could smell her mutation, when it was active. If anything happened to cause it to turn on, he'd probably be aware of it before she was, and would be able to get out of harm's way.

Besides, the look he was giving her was egging her on.

"All right. Let's spar." To prove she wasn't afraid, Marie took off her gloves, tossing them to the side of the room.

Logan smiled at that, and walked with her to the large mat in the center of the room. Marie took up a defense stance, as she'd been taught, and the two began to circle each other.

Logan, of course, took the initiative and came at her low. Marie grabbed his shoulders and used them as leverage as she propelled herself over him, twisting in the air and landing a couple feet away. He turned quickly, however, and she narrowly avoided his arm by ducking. Deciding to do a bit offensive, she kicked out her foot, getting it between Logan's legs.

Staying low, she used her body's weight to spin, hoping to catch Logan's leg and tripping him. However, he maneuvered easily out of the attempt and, instead, grabbed her extended leg.

She cried out in alarm as he lifted the leg, lifting her with it. He paused momentarily, as if to ask her what she was going to do now, but she didn't give him time to speak.

She bent her knee, bringing herself even closer to Logan, dropped her back so she was upside down with Logan still holding her leg, and used all the strength she could muster to kick forward.

Logan, along with her leg, went right over her, and he flipped through the air, landing on his back.

Unfortunately, he never let go of her leg, and once she did her semi-flip, she catapulted with him onto the mat, landing hazardously on top of him, in somewhat of a sitting position.

Before she could get her bearings, he grabbed her and they rolled, both grappling for the upper hand. Marie had thought she had gotten one of his arms pinned behind his back, but felt his legs wrap around her waist, flipping her over onto her back, hard. He ended up on top of her, his arms pinning her shoulders down.

They both were breathing heavily from the adrenaline and exercise. They remained silent for a moment as they both caught their collective breaths.

"You were supposed ta let go of mah leg," Marie finally stated, sounding only slightly indignant.

"You gotta be prepared for anything, kid," Logan quipped back. He made no move to unpin her.

"Most of mah enemies don't have skeletons made of metal. They woulda flown across the room, mah leg all but forgotten about." She was fully aware of their positions, and felt herself focusing on his hands that had moved to grip her bare shoulders. The feel of his skin, slick with sweat, was causing her thoughts to wander to other ... stuff, and she reminded herself that this was business.

Teacher and mentor. Teammates sparring.

"You wouldn't be able to flip Jugs," Logan argued back, referring to the unstoppable Juggernaut.

"Ha! Ah don't think meh and Juggy would be wrestlin' with one another, sugah."

Something flashed in Logan's eyes when Marie let out her small laugh, and both had shut up pretty quickly. His eyes were intense, and Marie found herself staring intensely back up at him, perplexed at his expression. Her brow furrowed a bit, thinking she may have said something wrong, and she opened her mouth to ask him what she had said.

Words did not form, however, because at that moment Logan closed the distance between their faces and kissed her.

Marie's eyes widened as his lips found hers. It was a soft kiss, almost hesitant. The feelings they aroused in her were far from that, however.

She quickly returned the motions, and if Logan's hands weren't pinning her shoulders down, she would have added roaming hands to the moment.

The feel of his lips, moist with saliva, compared against the stubble on his chin and cheeks, was hypnotizing. She felt the tip of his tongue prod gently at her teeth, and she invited it in by opening her mouth. Her tongue began an intimate dance with his own, and she silently thanked the French, if they were the true inventors of this amazing show of affection.

As they explored each other's mouths, their kiss deepened, and became more fierce—almost desperate.

By this time Logan's hands had moved; one to steady his heavy frame above her, the other wrapped around her waist, lifting her up towards him so that only her legs were still on the floor.

Her arms, now free, had come to wrap around his neck, and her hands eagerly enjoyed the feel of his tresses, which were becoming more tangled by the second with her groping.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. Marie hit the mat, hard, and felt what little breath she had knocked out of her. It took her a second to realize Logan was no longer above her, but instead a couple feet away, having stood up.

She used her elbows to lift herself up enough to see him. "Logan?"

His face was contorted in confusion. He looked at her, wide-eyed, then looked to the ground, almost shamefully so.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I'm sorry, Rogue."

Before Marie could say anything, Logan had exited the combat room, the doors hissing shut loudly in the silence left by him.

He had called her Rogue. The untouchable, loner Rogue.

She lay back down on the mat, her hands rubbing her face in frustration. What the hell had just happened?