AN: Thank you everyone for their amazing comments/ reviews – and the many author/ story alerts! I'm glad everyone likes this so far. Trust me, this plot still has a lot to go – let me know if anyone is confused, or has questions.

Thank you!

Enjoy!


"The family is a haven in a heartless world." ~Attributed to Christopher Lasch


Chapter 4

The next morning, the school is buzzing with talks of their late night guest and of joyful conversations of the last students returning home now that break has started. Rogue can feel her ears ringing as the girls' gossip and the guys ask suspicious questions about the former; and the squeals of excitement over the latter. Her head feels as if a jackhammer is breaking a hole through her skull – she can't concentrate as she walks into the kitchen during the most intensive moments of the conversations and the high pitch calls of laughter.

She cracks open one eye, the light blinding her as her gloved fingers rub her sore temples. Her night wasn't the best she's had. The images that were Logan's memories had attacked her as she slept. At least, she thought it was. She strangely remembers the Revolutionary War – which may or may not have something to do with her American History class.

Groaning she fumbles further into the room when a sturdy hand grabs her forearm. She glances left then up at Piotr who pleasantly smiles down at her. She's relieved when he hands her a cup of strong coffee – she was the only one besides Logan and Piotr who could stomach the stuff (which she attributes to Logan's first absorption) and follows Piotr to the back table by the windows.

It isn't nearly as crowded as it could be given how many students they have enrolled, but the noise sounds the same to Rogue. Bobby and Kitty smile in a friendly manner as she comes closer, their arms locked together simply enough. But it digs at Rogue the wrong way. Maybe she's too sensitive today, from the lack of sleep, the aggression from Logan's psyche or the plain frustration at having no control to stop the images that bombarded her last night; but seeing their bare arms meshing together and Kitty's at ease features has Rogue in a bad mood. A mood that begins to seep into her hands as the grip on the mug tightens, the warmth muted through her leather gloves.

If she had enhanced strength, it would have been shattered into pieces.

But it is just another reminder of her circumstances, the leather gloves, holding back heat that should be scalding her. Another reminder of control she didn't have. It was all too much sometimes.

A heavy hand lands on the small of her back and directs her to the chair in the corner as Piotr sits next to her. He knows she prefers to have her back to a wall - this she knows is not from Logan but her own insecurities. Over the last few months they've grown closer; having to do with their Danger Room sessions and possibly his crush Kitty becoming Rogue's ex-boyfriends' girlfriend. She being paired with Colossus wasn't such a terrible thing either – his armor came in handy more than once in their pseudo battles. And he had confided in her his interest of the petite girl that sat directly in front of them.

And with her powers seemingly at more manageable levels, she could feel her teammates not as afraid as before. Their hesitation is seemingly gone – transferred to a strange trust . Whether it is from seeing her clothed as much as before the Cure, or because she now fights with them (and stubbornly will tackle anything in Danger Room sessions even without an offensive power), she isn't sure.

But it's another hit to her self-confidence – in herself, in her teammates, and her place within their ranks. They shouldn't have to learn to trust her – learn to trust her ability to control her powers, learn to keep her distance from them. They should just trust her - everything about her. They should just be at ease with her, like her friends and teammates were with everyone else.

She thought she had gotten over the hurt from having horrific powers. But she hasn't. She's learned to deal with it but she hasn't. She's grateful that her teammates are more trusting toward her now, trusting in the Danger Room or on missions for recruits, but she can still see their hesitation if they should not touch her the right way; through fabric or another barrier. They trust but they don't and it pains Rogue. It hurts on a deeper level – yet Rogue tries to ignore it. She doesn't want to feel sorry for herself anymore. In fact, she feels just plain aggravated at the whole situation; and at her situation in particular.

She is an X-Man. She's proved herself. She took the Cure and her powers won out over it. Her powers were at lower levels – and as 'Ro pointed out, not nearly as off set as before – and therefore not nearly as dangerous (she ignores the fact that it does put her in more extreme danger if her powers don't react right away, to which she becomes defenseless). And she was learning control. Her friends didn't have anything to fear from her.

Sometimes she was glad Piotr had learned not to be afraid – but there were times she wished, he and others didn't have to learn to not be afraid. They should just not be.

Yet again, Rogue cannot blame them. It was a twisted world she lived in; and it was her cross to bear, as Kurt would say. People would always be afraid of what they didn't understand, and Rogue would always be left wanting more.

Rogue draws out of herself enough to sip from the coffee, pure black because she knows Logan's influence makes her drink it that way, and watches the flurry around her. She gives Piotr a nudge as he sits down; he doesn't wince, which is a step up from how they normally react from her touch. But Piotr has always understood more than most and from their sessions together, he knows she would not hurt him if it could be helped. It makes her heart warm if only a little, depression from her earlier train of thought lightening. "What's the chaos 'bout? Shouldn't everyone be relaxin' since it's break now?"

He scans the room once as Bobby and Kitty whisper something between them. Bobby kisses Kitty's forehead and again Rogue's bad mood worsens. It wasn't from seeing her ex and his new flame, but from the simple touches they seem to need to do in front of her. It's another dig, one that she can't ignore readily. She can feel her stomach turn sour, but she gulps down another sip of coffee. Internally she sighs with a hint of relief.

"Some are leaving today for the week. Others are trying to catch this friend of Storm's."

"Storm's friend?" She asks mind confused. She doesn't understand until Piotr shrugs while sipping from his own mug of coffee. He used a bit of cream in his.

"Came in late last night. A few students heard them talking until four in the morning. Some say later than that."

"Ororo has a friend here?" Kitty asks, just now coming into the conversation. Rogue hides back a snide comment about listening and drowns her mouth in more coffee. It's not Kitty's fault for her mood, or was it? Rogue couldn't remember why she was so angry any more. "What does he look like?"

"Tall, sunglasses, older. Like 'Ro's age or maybe a few years younger," Rogue ticks off her fingers quietly. "From the south. Ah heard a Cajun accent slightly there."

Kitty's brown eyes widen with shock. "You've met him?"

A tidal wave of understanding crashes into her as she now gets Kitty was asking everyone in general; not Rogue. She knew not sleeping well would affect her. Her face becomes slightly pink as she waves it away. "Ran into 'em last night. He's kinda shifty." She won't go into detail of how his smile was charming and his body absolutely perfect.

But it wasn't like she could really tell under the trench coat. He hid away from view. Nor how she wanted to look under his sunglasses to see why he hid his eyes at night and inside a dimly lit mansion. Nor how his voice was a deep, silky baritone that made chills go up her spine when he introduced himself.

Or how she freaked out in front of him. Her blush heats up and she can't help but bite her lip in annoyance at herself. She was not going to live that down any time soon.

"Shifty?" Bobby asks and looks at her curiously. She can see his blue eyes twinkle in laughter and his lip quirks into a small smile. "Why would Storm have a friend like that?"

"Dunno," Rogue responds and promptly tunes out of the conversation. It only takes a few moments for the kitchen to clear out as honking sounds erupt from outside the front doors. Minivans, cars and trucks line up to gather the remaining students to their holiday cheer. They would be gone until the New Year and the mansion would be quiet until then. Rogue rolls her eyes, standing to gather more coffee.

She sees mistletoe hanging above the entrance way, holly and lights strung along the top of the cabinets, blinking merrily at her. Her bad mood goes from bad, to worse, to terrible. The headache won't ease and the lights are making her eyes wobble in and out of focus. Holidays are not something Rogue is looking forward to; nor to the subsequent loneliness that it tends to bring on.

Her only consolation was Logan was here this year. At least she had someone else she could relate to without a family, who had become her family overnight. She looks behind her to the rest of her friends, Kitty and Piotr teasing Bobby about something. They were her family too; but they had families to return to when they wanted to leave. Well, Bobby doesn't, she reasons, not anymore anyway. But he had, had that love growing up. He had that fondness of Thanksgiving's feast or Christmas, of waking up for presents, having a home cooked meal without fights.

Rogue had spent much of her time hiding. And she couldn't remember a Christmas when she received a present. The mood goes from terrible, to horribly worse. She drains her cup and snakes out of the kitchen, wanting to just hide away. Or hit something. She's pretty sure that's Logan's side coming out in her.

Gently she tip toes down the hallway toward the rec room. She hears kids running in and out of the main doors, hiking up the stairs and running down them; by the end of the night the place will become a deserted mansion. Maybe only a dozen people will be left in the house and Rogue is slightly terrified and comforted by this. It means less worrying about hurting someone, but also the added safety in numbers trick won't be there should they be attacked.

Even now she was still thinking like an X-Man.

Pausing at the door of the room, she sees Kurt sitting on the couch, stringing together popcorn on a very long piece of thread. She turns to leave but he stops her. "Good afternoon Rogue," he greets calmly. She glances back and can see the hesitation in his eyes.

She knows he's still uncomfortable around them. Heck, she still is and has been at the mansion so much longer. "Ah'm sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to get away from…" she sighs. "…everything." She doesn't feel the urge to elaborate as she's pretty sure Kurt's smart enough to get her. He hides almost as much as she does.

Kurt Wagner stands, the popcorn string hanging by his pants. She sees the faded grey slacks and crisp white long sleeve shirt glow against his blue skin. His tripod tail swooshes behind him and for some unknown reason, Rogue smiles. "I know what you mean." He agrees. Softly he shakes the popcorn catching her eye. "I used to do this with my adoptive parents. It might be too early, but it felt right to complete the task. Do you want to perhaps join me?"

He was giving an olive branch, which that much was obvious to Rogue. Gripping her hands into her leather gloves she mentally makes sure she is covered. Long sleeved green shirt, grey satin scarf around her neck, hair pulled away into a ponytail of curls because she was too tired to bother managing it better and jean clad legs. She was sufficiently covered to sit by Kurt.

"Thanks," she says meekly and walks over. He shows her how to thread the first kernel on to the thin wire. Minutes later they are working amicably together in silence, and Rogue can feel herself become less stressed and irritated about her circumstances. Her headache slowly lifts away and her shoulders drop without the tension coursing through them.

Kurt yelps slightly next to her, and she giggles knowingly; he had stubbed his thumb on to the needle. She feels kind of lucky knowing her gloves are protecting her hands from the tip of her own needle. "So I hear we have a new visitor."

"Ah heard that too."

Kurt sighs and she pauses to look up. "Somethin' the matter Kurt?"

"I was only wondering about something." He glances at her. "Promise you won't tell?"

She crosses her heart like she is five years old again and Kurt chuckles quietly. It feels homely and she bathes in the warmth. "I worry for what this newcomer might bring. Ororo and he have a long history. I'm just nervous of what history that might be."

"Ahh," she nods thoughtfully. Another popcorn puff is pulled through the wires. "She kept calling him 'lil brother' last night Kurt. Ah don't think you have much in the way of competition."

Kurt bows his head, shyly catching up to her popcorn string. If she peers close enough, she can see a small blush forming on his cheeks making his face slightly purple; she knows she has hit a hot spot for the man. It was obvious for his feelings for Storm since their first meeting in Boston some years ago.

"So then it is common news?"

"Well," she drawls. The needle pokes her and she curses at the sting. Maybe her gloves haven't been helping that much? "To everyone that ain't 'Ro."

A heartbeat goes by. "But that doesn't mean she don't feel the same ya' know? She's just had a lot on her mind recently." Her tongue darts out as the needle gets stuck in the center of the kernel. Kurt smiles and takes it from her, jabbing it harder to let it slide through easily.

She grins appreciatively as he responds. "I know this. We haven't talked in quite some time, but last night we did. She worries for everyone since the Professor's death. She tries very hard to be perfect."

"Yeah, Ah've noticed that. She's stepped right in to be the X-Men's leader and trying to balance it with the school's duties, plus grievin'. It's tough, Ah'm not gonna lie. Ah don't know how she does it."

"Nor do I Rogue." They smile at each other and when the last of the popcorn has finally been put together, Kurt and Rogue move it to the barren tree in the back corner. Lights of many different colors are already strung on to the branches, and the popcorn garland is draped nicely against it. Rogue feels a sense of belonging grip her heart and it takes her a minute to understand she likes the feeling.

"Would you like to help decorate?" Rogue feels herself smile and nod slowly. She cannot remember a time that she has ever decorated a Christmas tree. Kurt beams, and opens two small boxes of ornaments. "I found these in the attic. I believe they were heirlooms from the Professor's family." He holds up a small bulb with a picture of a young Jean and Scott with Xavier standing in the background. Kurt can feel the happiness there, a moment frozen in a happier time. "And some from Ms. Grey and Mr. Summers childhood. I thought it would be nice to remember them this way."

"Like they're a part of us no matter where they are?"

"Yes, exactly." Silently Rogue agrees with his reasoning. She was tired of grieving the loss of her teammates and teachers. She takes the bulb and gently hangs it on to the branch, the gold glitter sparkling under the lights of the sun warming the rec room. She can see wear on the glass but it shines anyway.

She wants to think about her peers without feeling her stomach bottom out and tears well into her eyes. She wants to remember them fondly; and she knows 'Ro and Logan would too.

Rogue glances at the picture of a young Scott, and feels a zing of pain hit her temple. She blinks, startled, and grabs her head. Kurt is right next to her, steadying her as an image takes her. A young boy, his eyes banded by thick white gauze runs with a blonde girl leading him with other children down a tunnel. A woman, the same from earlier with dark knowing eyes smiles encouragingly before running behind the mass of children toward the outside world. She can feel fear; adrenaline and love swell in her heart, before it turns to white hot anger.

She drops to the ground and Kurt is holding her. His three digits are pressing against the fabric, clutching her to his side. "Rogue! Rogue, talk to me! Tell me what you are seeing."

The image vanishes and she panting as she looks down at the hardwood floor. She's screaming and crying as a pain slices into her side and then her chest. She can feel blood pooling from her wounds and then stitching together quickly, almost hurriedly to fend off infection. Her body is battling but her mind is blank. She sees the crisp golden walls and paneled flooring - but her body wages an unseen war that cripples her, leaving her nerves a mess of hot blinding pain. She screams a blood curling yell as Kurt shakes her.

"Rogue! Rogue?"

The scream dies in her throat as if cut short. The feeling stops. Her eyes focus, her arms tremble. Breathing hard she sits back, bile swimming in her stomach and Kurt's yellow eyes staring at her in concern. She panting, healing and dying and hurting. She doesn't know why. She can't to begin to understand why. "Tell me. What did you see?"

"Ah saw Scott. He was young, really young." And the headache is back in unbearable bursts of pain as her eyes close of their own accord. Her hands find her temples as she pushes on them to stop the pain. "My head hurts. Ah can't make it stop, Kurt! Ah can't."

She begins to feel wetness on her cheeks as she cries from the pain behind her eyes and the wounds inflicted on to her unawares body. The headache feels like tiny firecrackers, setting off inside her mind, circuits and nerves curdling into a jumble of painful bursts of fire. Kurt pulls her closer and wraps his arms carefully around her. He rests his chin on to her head and begins to softly pray above her; asking for strength to help his friend and for Rogue to have the strength to overcome this.

Kurt's words begin to soothe Rogue after a while and she lets him rock her gently on the hard flooring. The pain begins to ebb away, leaving heavy tears on her pale cheeks and her body throbbing along with his heartbeat. Her mind is a whirlwind of information – she doesn't how or why Logan would know Scott when he was a kid. How or why her body feels as if she's climbed a mountain; why her body feels as if she's been stabbed repeadedly and yet continued to battle onward.

And frankly, she doesn't think Logan would know either. She could feel the memories wanting to come out but something is blocking them; something holds them back from Rogue when they're triggered. And it hurts when the memories hit this blockade. It causes her brain to freeze and fight against the wall inside her mind; and the pictures disappear behind the wall so she cannot even begin to examine them more closely.

She briefly wonders if this is how Logan's mind feels when his memories try to surface? Does it hurt him, as much as it hurts her? Is that why he can no longer remember who he is or how? Has the pain finally stopped him from trying to remember, much in the way it assaults her now?

She feels Kurt pull back and look down on her with so much compassion she is almost moved to further tears. "You are having problems with your mutation again correct Rogue?"

"Sorta," she replies and sits further back. His lean arms leave her slender body and something about his musk is familiar. It reminds her of an earlier time in her life; homely, comforting, peaceful. She pushes it away, focusing on the blurry images that are receding quickly. "It's Logan's memories. They keep trying to show me somethin'. And Ah don't know what it is."

He nods slowly. He holds up one finger. "You're powers might be changing again. Whereas before the Cure, your powers were easily stimulated by a brief touch; they are not now. Perhaps now, instead of locking memories away easily, you are now not able to?"

"Maybe," Rogue mumbles. She worries her bottom lip; she might think Kurt was right on some level but she could feel something different. The others she absorbed didn't come to her in this pattern. She could take those memories out to examine without problems. Why was it now Logan's memories hurt her so much? Was it the amnesia? Did that transfer to her, now that the Cure has royally screwed with her powers?

She sighs, shoulders drooping. The Cure still haunted her, even months after returning "normal". "It might be, but Ah don't know. It's like a trigger will set it off, but before it can make sense to me, it hits a wall."

"And the collision causes you pain ja?"

"Yeah."

They sit in a few moments of remote silence as Rogue pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her long arms around them in comfort. The sounds of children leaving have ended and the mansion is eerily silent in the late afternoon hours. Rogue glances up at Kurt who is staring at the tree with a heated gaze. She sighs and says bitterly, "Ah wish the Professor was here to figure this out. He'd know what to do."

A smile flirts across his intense face before he rubs his neck bashfully. "Ja, Rogue. I think he would."


AN: So? Anyone sees where I'm going with Rogue's many different relationships? Or even where I'm taking Logan? Any predictions?

Also, you'll notice some references to the characters past. I know I'm not in canon - I'm sure Rogue had at least a better time being brought up with Irene (and others) than I've depicted above; comics, cartoon or movies even. But for this to work, to get into her mind, I needed to harp on it a bit. Same to Logan - his family situation is similar. Bobby not having one to return to, because of the events in X2 seem to fit well into this - especially considering his brother called the cops on them, the wanted mutants. As for the heirlooms - it fit in my head, seeing as how Jean and Scott were Xavier's "first", they would have the nice decorations, the closeness because they were essentially children when they first joined. Prof was always seen as a father figure, him indulging them seemed to work, especially during the holidays; remember they seemed to have "happy" memories when they thought on the Professor.

Kurt's Popcorn string - I'm not sure if Germanic people do this - I'm not even sure those in the Circus would do it. But it's a warm tradition that seems to bring out his tender side, along with a slight childishness to bond with Rogue, so I went with it. If this doesn't fit, or just seems way off, let me know.

Thanks for reading! Leave me a line or two!

Peace