Disclaimer: I don't own.

As Warren flew them closer, Scott felt his stomach spasm uncontrollably. Maybe Warren had flown them too fast. Or maybe he was just relieved to hear Rogue again.

Or maybe his brain was just starting to work out the fact that Rogue had been Rogue for the last few minutes now, so Scott's speech, painfully sincere though it was, had only been completely useless overkill.

"Rogue! Are you—you're Rogue, right?" asked an anxious Warren as he stopped just short of colliding with the girl, nearly dropping Scott in the process.

"Ah'm me," she said quietly. "Been me for a little while now, actually." She rubbed her head, glancing to the screen. "But that thing was heavy. Had to keep my mind on it."

She glanced briefly at Scott with her strange gold eyes, and then looked around at the mess surrounding them. Scott saw her slump. When she turned her gaze to the below, to the thousands of little faces staring upwards, she closed her eyes in dismay. "Damn," she muttered.

"I don't think anyone was hurt," Warren said. "Otherwise we'd have heard screaming."

She opened her eyes, once more scanning the just-murmuring crowd. "Hope so." Then she looked at Scott. "Ororo?"

"On the ground with Logan. She's fine. A little bruised, maybe, but that's all."

"And the Professor? Ah felt him earlier, but he got pushed away. Is he…?"

Scott felt the Professor opening the link again, but the telepath was staying silent.

"He's fine, too. He and Hank are in the Jet. They're picking up Ororo and Logan. We can meet them on 49th and then," Scott paused, seeing the apprehension on Rogue's face and feeling a similar distant anxiety on the Professor's end. "Well, I guess we head home. Get some rest."

Scott felt the Professor close the link, leaving behind vague mindprints of relief. But the expression on Rogue's face was doubtful, as if she didn't expect the night to end as simply as that.

"I heard you didn't have much of that last night," Scott went on. "And I know you didn't have any tonight, so..."

"So we sort things out tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." 

A small smile tugged at her lips. Scott felt himself returning it.

They flew up and away from Times Square. As they passed the top of the famous building, Scott looked down at the 2002 sign, resting his gaze on the Ball perched behind. It was bruised but buzzing, lights flickering in and out of life.

Warren caught his look. "Not the kind of New Year's Eve you had in mind?" he asked dryly.

"No." Scott looked at Rogue's flying form ahead of them. "And not the kind I'll ever forget."

END

End Notes:

I know, I tweaked Rogue's powers. I heard in the comics she's wearing visors and sporting Wolvie claws, so that got me thinking of her powers in Evolution. She's got a little more control there than she does in the comics and in the old show. I figure since Evo Rogue's sort of a clean slate, no Carol Danvers, no years of continued Mystique warping, her powers have a lot more room to grow now. So they'll be a little more fun to write.

And yes, I left some loose ends. Sorry. I'll tie them up in a sequel or something, which I want to start writing soon, if real life would only quit pestering me. ;)

Anyway, thanks for reading. And a belated—or early?—Happy Holidays.