A/N: Hey all! So sorry for the wait. It's been a combination of writer's block, too many on-going stories that I don't know where to start, and a busy life. So, I'll give you my, as of late, standard disclaimer: None of my stories are being abandoned. I have no intention of not finishing any of them. So, don't worry, you're not reading a dead-end story. That being said, I have been slow (slower than usual for me) on the updating. I hope that changes, now that yesterday was the official last of school, but who knows.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's one of my faves so far.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-men Evolution.

Chapter 11:

~ July 17, 2005 ~

"Jean?" the Professor greeted her with obvious surprise.

"Hello, Professor," she replied warmly, bending forward to give her mentor a hug.

Being back home, here in Bayville, she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Even though she hadn't been back in a while, she conceded that she was always happiest when she was home in the mansion. Her apartment didn't elicit the same feeling, nor did her parent's home. The mansion was wholly unique in that aspect.

"It's good to see you."

"And you," the Professor answered, despite looking taken aback.

Jean had let herself inside a few moments ago, only to catch the Professor on his way through the foyer of the big house. She was a little shocked that she'd surprised him—after all, she more than anyone else knew how he kept a constant mental scan of the mansion and its grounds, and its inhabitant's comings and goings. He was mindful of the smallest detail, knowing now, after the Apocalypse debacle, that he couldn't be too careful.

However, as Jean gazed upon her beloved teacher she realized what she'd mistaken for surprise was actually confusion.

"Jean, it is good to see you," he began diplomatically. "But, whatever are you doing here?"

She smiled, understanding his puzzlement, considering that she hadn't been back since Christmas.

"Visiting," she said simply.

It was true. Well mostly. As eager as she was to see everyone, there was one person in particular she wanted to speak with first.

The Professor frowned, clearly not following. Understandable, since she wasn't giving him much to go on. "What about finals and your research with Dr. Connors?"

She had a lot of explaining to do, but right now all she wanted to do was get settled in and then find Logan. Starting for the stairs, backpack full of textbooks over her shoulders, small suitcase full of clothes in hand, she said, "I brought all my books with me. Here or in my apartment, I can study just as well. And Dr. Connors gave me a few days off."

Jean mentally grimaced at the last part of her statement. Yes, Dr. Connors had granted her a few days reprieve, he hadn't been too happy about it. He had no clue what could be so important as to take her away from their research at this "crucial time." Nonetheless, he'd given her until Wednesday. She knew though that if she hadn't proven herself to be a competent and dedicated worker in the past that she could have conceivably found herself without a summer intern position. Thankfully, that hadn't been the case.

"Jean—" the Professor tried again.

"Sorry, Professor, I need to drop my things off in my room. I'll see you later, though," she said quickly. Then, throwing over her shoulder, as if it were an afterthought and not the main thing on her mind, "Oh, by the way, have you seen—"

She stopped mid-sentence, halfway up the stairs, when she spotted Logan coming down the opposite direction.

He didn't see her right away so she took the opportunity to just take him in. Logan looked like… well, Logan. He looked good.

Ok, good is an understatement, she thought to herself.

He was dressed casually in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, a red, white, and blue plaid shirt, and his rugged boots. Jean was comfortable enough in admitting that he looked handsome.

"Hey, Chuck, I'm ready to look over the—"

Logan stopped speaking abruptly when his gaze finally settled on her. He stopped a few steps away from her, staring openly. To say that he looked stunned to see her there would be putting it mildly. In that thirty seconds of silence she watched his face go from shock and bewilderment to a mixture of feelings that all leaned towards the angry side of the emotion scale, before settling on indifference.

"Red," he greeted curtly. And then, he was down the steps before she could figure out what to say to that unfriendly welcome.

Jean turned to stare disbelievingly after Logan's retreating back. It was then that she noticed the Professor watching the two of them with a considering frown on his face. She did her best to school her features and to look perfectly unaffected by Logan's out of character behavior towards her. She didn't want the Professor to worry over their little—or so she previously believed—misunderstanding.

"All right, Logan," the Professor started. "Let's go to my office—"

"Can't," he said brusquely as he bypassed the Professor and headed, instead, towards the door. "I've got to go."

"Go? Go where?" the telepath sputtered out. It was safe to say this hadn't been a planned event.

"Out," was all Logan would say.

It didn't take a mind-reader to realize that Logan's sudden change of plans had everything to do with her arrival.

Well, she was sure glad that she'd decided against calling ahead. Instead, she now had the problem of when he'd be back for them to have their much needed talk.

Logan, as everyone knew, could disappear for weeks. She didn't have weeks to wait for his return. She needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

The sound of the front door slamming jarred her out of her thoughts. He'd left!

Jean dropped her suitcase and backpack to the step she stood on and bolted down the stairs. There was no time to lose, she needed to stop him.

"Jean!" the Professor called out.

She just couldn't take the moment to explain. Not yet. If Logan's reaction to her presence just now told her anything, it told her things between them were far from all right.

Opening the door, she swung it shut behind her, wincing at the loud bang it made. She'd have some serious apologizing to do to the Professor later. But, first, she needed to catch up to Logan and make things right.

Jean knew that he was probably halfway to the garage by now. She jogged the path that led around the side of the house to where the garage stood; it held Logan's prized motorcycle, among other vehicles.

Coming upon it, she found the garage door wide open and Logan inside, already astride his beloved cycle. He was in the process of fiddling with the straps of his helmet—the Professor insisted he wear it around the younger students to set a good example, even though, technically, he didn't need it.

"Logan!" she called out, hoping to halt his getaway or, at least, stall it.

Even from the distance, she could see the irritated look on his face. She slowed her pace as she entered the garage. There was no point in running to him now; besides, she could use her powers now to stop him if she wanted to.

He watched her carefully as she approached him, a controlled look on his face. "Go inside, Jean," he said shortly.

"No," she replied tersely. His attitude was starting to grate on her. Yes, she understood that what she had done was wrong. But it was an accident, and why wouldn't he let her say sorry? "Where are you going?"

"Out," he repeated. It seemed that was all she was going to get, but then the expression on his face changed to an almost cruel like smirk. It was so not Logan, at least not the one she knew. He remained silent; instead, his eyes skimmed over the length of her. And she suddenly felt naked standing there despite her pretty yellow summer dress. "To do adult-like things. I'll spare your young ears the details."

She crossed her arms over her chest, not liking his insinuations. "I'm an adult, too, Logan." Jean didn't appreciate his snort to the contrary.

"Fine. I'll let you in on the specifics, but don't say I didn't warn your poor virgin ears."

"Logan!" she exclaimed, blushing profusely. "Why—why are you acting like this?"

"Like myself, you mean," he answered, a hard edge to his voice. "This is me, Red." She shook her head emphatically. This wasn't the Logan she'd grown up knowing. Or even the Logan she'd come to know in the past year, her friend. This was all an act, it had to be. "Look, you're an adult now, right," he said snidely. "So, I'll tell it to you like it is. I'm not your friend, Jean. I'm your babysitter. I check up on you because Professor X tells me to."

His words caused her to recoil; they hurt almost as bad as if he'd struck her.

What the hell was going on?

She couldn't help it when tears blurred at the edge of her vision. Jean hated that she had to look at him through the haze, but she needed to know if he was telling the truth or if he was simply acting out, retaliating. She supposed she could read his mind, but that's how she'd gotten into this mess in the first place.

Staring into his dark eyes, Jean caught a glimpse of something. Regret, perhaps? But it was hard to tell.

"Go inside, Jean. You want a friend, talk to Charles. Or better yet, go call that boyfriend of yours. All right?"

Jean stared at him a moment more; still he remained impassive, unreadable, and cold. It was a mistake coming here, she thought heartbrokenly, as she blindly made a run for the mansion.

Charles sifted through the week's mail sitting, still, on the side-table in the foyer. His student's never seemed to remember to pick it up. He guessed he could play mailman for a few minutes, now that Logan's hasty escape had changed his plans. Anyways, he hadn't been looking forward to the hour of going over next month's training schedule with the man—he insisting that it was too much, Logan insisting it wasn't enough; it was the same argument each time.

Still, despite the reprieve, Charles had to shake his head in exasperation at his friend's unpredictable antics. Served him right, he supposed, for hiring and befriending a tough, gruff nomad.

Feeling a slight headache coming on, he decided a nice cup of tea was what he needed to settle him. Charles turned his chair towards the kitchen when he heard the door slamming behind him—at this rate, the headache would become a full-blown migraine.

Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Jean, speed-walking towards the stairs. She looked distressed. Not quite in tears, but close.

"Jean?" he questioned, worriedly.

She spared him a horrified glance at being caught; shaking her head, she dashed up the stairs, grabbing her discarded suitcase and backpack along the way.

He frowned as he watched her retreating back, exclaiming, "What on earth?"

His answer came to him a moment later: Logan.

Logan, he projected. What have you done?

He heard his fellow mutant's mental sigh. Trust me, Chuck. It's for the best.

How could a near tears Jean be for the best? he wondered to himself. No, something was off.

Charles shook his head, staring up the stairs after his very first student. Something had prompted Jean's return home. And that something—or rather, someone—he was beginning to realize, was Logan.

He pursed his lips, deep in thought. Something had occurred between the two, he figured. And if it was what he suspected, well, he wasn't sure he approved. Still, that wasn't his business. But, what he could openly disapprove of was his student in tears because of the actions of a resident of this institute.

Fix this, Logan, he projected. Or so help me, I'll make it so you believe yourself a chicken in need of doing the Macarena all day long.

He heard the sound of Logan revving the motorcycle's engine. No reply came, but Charles knew the message was received.

Rogue stared at the TV screen as the credits rolled by. She knew she should get up and go to bed. But, she was completely exhausted and entirely too comfortable sitting where she was on the couch, snuggled into Scott's side.

Her day had been a long one; beginning early, Alex had come for her at six in the morning. He'd gotten it into his head that today was the day to give her a surfing lesson. So she'd spent the day of glorious weather splashing about in the water, learning the ins and outs of surfing. It was a lot tougher than it looked that was for sure.

Later, Alex dropped Rogue at home early in the evening. Upon arrival, Rogue was presented with a pleasant surprise. Scott, who had opted out of the lesson to instead catch up on errands and such, had made them dinner. It was a chore they'd been sharing ever since moving to Hawaii. She was thankful that he'd taken it over tonight. And, to top it off, it wasn't just any dinner, but her favorite: barbequed ribs.

They shared their meal together in a companionable—and messy—atmosphere. It felt like old times; just two friends enjoying good food over great conversation. During dinner it was easy to forget that something like a kiss had ever occurred between them. And as much as she had relished their kiss, she was happy to have her best friend, back to normal.

After dinner, Scott suggested a movie to finish off their night. He made her buttery popcorn; he even had her favorite snack on hand: Rasinets. Needless to say, she felt super pampered.

"Rogue?"

"Hmm…" she murmured back, too tired for actual words, apparently.

She heard his breathy chuckle; the vibrations of it reverberated through her, sending a delicious shiver up her spine. Too close. They were too close. And yet she made no move to move away.

"You awake down there?" he wondered amusedly.

"Uh… huh…" she was slow to respond.

A second later, he was angling his head so he could look her in the eye. Her heavy lidded gaze drifted up to meet his. And when he smiled down at her, it was like all was right in the world. God, he's gorgeous, she silently mused.

As if of its own volition, she found her hand reaching up towards his lovely face. Without thinking, she allowed her hand to caress the contours of his cheek. She was absolutely mesmerized by where the tips of her fingertips met the skin of his cheek. It was a wonder how she'd spent most of her adolescence and a good chunk of her teen years unable to enjoy something as simple as touch. Now that she had it, control, she could never give this up.

Her fingers trailed along; his cheekbone, jawline, down along his neck and back again, her eyes following their path. A tingle burned its own path through her, extending from her fingers to the pit of her belly. Ah love him so much, she thought almost involuntarily.

When her fingers grazed his full bottom lip, she felt the short puff of air of Scott's gasp against her bare skin. And it was that touch that beseeched her to wonder at what she was doing. She dropped her hand abruptly.

Rogue knew she should feel foolish, her actions were not one of a friend; but, at the same time, he could have stopped her the moment she reached for him.

Courageously, she glanced up at his face. Rogue needed to know what he thought of her fingers sudden voyeuristic journey.

There was an intensity to which he stared down at her. An intensity that had been a precursor to their first kiss.

Oh no! What had she done?

She looked away quickly, forcing her body to move away from the warmth of his.

"Sorry—Ah… Ah don't know what Ah—Sleepy," she finished abruptly, her speech jerky.

She heard him clear his throat before responding. "It's ok, Rogue. You're tired, I get it."

Rogue should have explained better. He was giving her a quizzical look, even though he'd said he got it. How being tired explained her sudden urge to feel him up, they both didn't know, apparently. She should have said something about how she was amazed she could touch. That such a simple act was a marvel to her. It was the truth. But her brain was too exhausted to come up with anything plausible—now here she could use the tired excuse.

"Uh… thank ya, Scott. For dinner… and tha… uh movie. Thanks…" she continued awkwardly, pressing as far back away from him as possible.

He smiled again, easing her nerves just a little. "You're welcome, Rogue."

"Ok…" she trailed off, looking every which way. "Good nigh—ugh!"

She stood up too quickly, not realizing that her muscles had stiffened after sitting for so long. She winced and stumbled from the shooting pain in her cramped up hamstring.

"Rogue!" Scott exclaimed in alarm, catching her before she hit the floor.

She grimaced, partly from the pain, partly from finding herself in his arms once again. "Ah'm ok," she managed to get out. "Hamstring cramp."

The next thing she knew he was doing the unthinkable, swinging her up into his arms.

"Scott!" she protested. "Put meh down."

"Nope." He started to move and she put her arms around his neck out of fear. It was a long way down. "I'll just help you to your room."

Deciding arguing would take more time than for him to deposit her in her room, she allowed him this one thing. Besides, it was a short and brief walk down the hall.

Scott placed her, ever so gently, on the edge of her bed. She thought that was the end to that, but then he surprised her by kneeling down in front of her.

Rogue was sure she was gawping at him, mouth wide open, like a fish out of water; nonetheless, she couldn't help it. She was at a complete loss as to what was going on.

"Which leg?" he inquired.

Not having a clue what he was about to do, she pointed to her left leg.

Rogue watched in complete and utter fascination as his large hands suddenly skimmed the length of her upper thigh. His hands encircled her leg briefly before she felt him begin to knead the taut muscles in her leg. Under, around, up and down, her breath hitched at his ministrations, her brain froze, incapable of a single thought. Touch and feeling was all there was, how he expertly dealt with her flesh.

It felt oh-so good to be touched so… intimately. Her breath began to race when his hands slid up the length of her baggy-capri pajama leg. What felt good over fabric was now intensified a hundred times skin-to-skin. It was unbearable. It was electrifying.

All too soon, though, his hand slid out and it was over.

"Better?" He sounded breathless.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. It was a comfort to see he wasn't unaffected by what just occurred. His breathing was ragged and there was a flush to his cheeks. Rogue was sure she mirrored his look.

Yes, it was a comfort that he wasn't unaffected. But it was also distressing to know that things like this were still happening between them. It was almost like they couldn't fight it.

Still, she answered, "Better."

He held her gaze a moment more, lingering for whatever reason. And then with one last reluctant look in her direction, he stood up, backing towards the door.

"Sweet dreams, Rogue."

"Good night, Scott," she breathed out.

And then he was gone.

Rogue flopped backwards onto her bed. Sensations from mere moments before flooded her senses. Oh God, how good it felt to be touched by him. Caressed by him. How much she wanted him to go further. Oh, she'd be having sweet dreams tonight, that was a guarantee.

Oh God, she thought to herself. We're so in trouble.

Well, that's it for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed. More to, hopefully, come soon!

Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's been reading and also thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: FlowerChild13; galaxy tracker (Nope, not dead, haven't given up on this one either. I'm sticking with it. :) ); skyscraper25 (x2); DrkSpphrGT (I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. I know it takes me a while to update, but don't worry I won't be abandoning this one. So, thank you for sticking with it.); MurtaghLover24; Skyscraper8; Stormplains; whylime; and ScruffyLovin.

Be back soon-ish. :)