AN:  Chapter t t t ten!   I've officially switched the genre's around since this story is a lot less funny than it started.  Pietro and Rogue finally have their little talk.  Today's set of disclaimers: I don't own scrabble, gameboy, cosmo, or the chicken soup for the soul series. 

            Pietro would have been at the Institute in six seconds, but he stopped to pick up some chicken soup, so it took him eight.  He wasn't sure if he was actually going to need it, since Pryde was a lousy liar.  Something was clearly up, but Pietro doubted it was anything to do with him being shallow.  Pryde would've reveled in telling him that.  In fact, he doubted it had anything to do with him at all, but that had no effect on his interest or his concern. 

            He wasn't really sure what he was doing.  There were plenty of people who thought he was shallow.  Most of the people who'd ever met him, actually.  When Rogue had called him shallow, it had stopped him in his tracks, not just because of her mutant ability.  Rogue saw through everything.  Rogue saw through every trick anyone ever pulled to make themselves look good, or brave, or strong.  So why hadn't she seen through his trick?  Probably the same reason she didn't see through her own, not that he knew what that reason was.  He pushed those thoughts away, focusing only on getting to Rogue before her soup got cold.

            For such a sophisticated place, the Institute was incredibly easy to break into.  He just zipped across the grounds, up a wall, and while he wasn't as dexterous as Todd, he managed to get into a second story window without dying.  From there it was easy.  They must have been on decreased security during the school day, because no alarms heralded his arrival, and while normally Pietro loved to make an entrance, it was a relief.  He paused as he stood staring down a long hallway, which he knew was only one of many in an incredibly large complex.  Luck was on his side this time, since he'd managed to find the right hallway by chance, and the doors had names on them, drawn in marker on construction paper, just like the first day of college.  Pietro wandered down the hall till he came to the door with Rogue and Kitty's names on it, Kitty's on pink, with a heart dotting the "i" in her name and small flowers encircling it.  Rogue's name was just her name, printed in plain block capital letters on green paper, except for the flat part on the "G", which had a small flourish to it.  Pietro's attention was captured by the door knob, or lack thereof.  He pushed the door gently open, and looked at the splintered wood of the doorframe and the warped metal of the doorknob lying in the corner.  'Woke up, like, kinda sick' my gorgeous ass, Pietro thought darkly, walking in and moving the door shut behind him. 

            She was curled up in bed, her hair forming a thin mesh over her face.  Maybe Pryde hadn't been entirely untruthful, she did look like hell.  Pietro set his backpack down, hoping that the thermos would keep the soup warm, and took a couple steps closer.  There was a slightly darker spot on her pillowcase from where she'd been drooling, and Pietro found this painfully endearing.  He pulled the chair from her desk, removing all the laundry- dirty, clean, who knew?  -that hung from it and sat beside her bed, shut his eyes and waited. 

            Rogue only managed to sleep for about an hour, or rather, Pietro only managed to let her sleep for about an hour before he got stir crazy.  Then he got bored and started scuttling around the room, looking for something to fiddle with.  Exhausting all possibilities (gameboy, all available books and magazines including every Cosmo quiz, and a stray crossword puzzle, among other things) he sat back down, tapping his foot quietly, trying to be patient and failing in spite of his best intentions.

            What the hell, he thought and quickly reached down and shook Rogue's socked foot.  She gave a little grumble and curled up into a tighter ball.  Pietro frowned and poked her on the shoulder.  Another shift, but still no real response.  Finally, he went for broke, prodded her repeatedly in the side and then stepped clear, in case she tried to kill him.  She sat upright, eyes shut tight, and sighed, rubbing her face with the back of her hand, static turning her hair into a veil/halo/matted mess. 

            "Oh good!" he said brightly.  "You're up!"  Rogue looked at him and then glanced at her surroundings, looked back at him and gave a sleepy scowl.

            "Is this another stupid dream?" she asked.  Pietro smiled. 

            "Dream come true maybe, but no, it's not," he replied, overlooking the hint of desperation in her voice as she asked the question.  Rogue heaved a sigh and flopped back down in her bed.

            "Shouldn't you be in school?"  she muttered flatly.  His smile slipped a degree.

            "Pryde said you were sick.  She's a terrible liar."

            "I don't look sick to you?"

            "Not in the conventional sense, but you do look like something's wrong," he said.  She shut her eyes and bit her lower lip, hard.  Pietro leaned over.  "That looks like it hurts, you wanna cut that out?  What's going on, Rogue?"

            It does hurt, she thought, and wished that he could hear her.  After a few more moments of her silence, he asked,

            "How was our weekend, Rogue?  I mean, I slept through most of it, and I was here, but I wasn't here, you know what I mean."

            He noticed that she was staring at him.  Well, not really staring, but gazing at him with an intensity that stunned him to silence.  She'd clearly not slept, and she'd been crying.  His smile crumbled.  Oh god, what did I do? 

            "That good, huh?" he said quietly.  How could I?  I don't really know what I did, but how the hell could I be such a prick?  He got up and got the soup out of his bag.  "Look, I brought you soup, I'm sorry if I fucked up your weekend, your life, I'll get out of your hair…"  he was about to go, but she just kept looking at him.  "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know what that facial expression means, I'm sorry if I was an asshole, I don't really know…" he trailed off again as Rogue shut her eyes and shook her head.

            "You were wonderful," she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.  He would have allowed himself to smile and enjoy this piece of news, but the sorrow in her face undermined it.

            "So… what's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the bed beside her. 

            "I just had a bad night last night, woke up feeling kinda sick," she said.  "It was nice having you in my head, and shallow is definitely not the word for you.  You've got plenty of depth and layers, and if anyone ever asks, I'll put in a good word."

            Pietro smiled again.

            "The hell with anyone, put in a good word with yourself.  How about that movie?  Or that pizza?  Wait, you're sick… we could just hang out, play monopoly, oh!  Scrabble, we could play a two on two with Rocky and Kitty, we'd kick their asses!" 

            Rogue shook her head again, and Pietro's face fell.  She took a deep, shaky breath as she tried not to cry, and laid back down, her head resting in Pietro's lap. 

            "It wouldn't work, Pietro.  You and me.  It barely worked in my head.  It was so nice, and I miss having you to talk to, but Pietro, it wouldn't ever work in real life."

            He took a long pause before he asked the question to which he didn't really want the answer.

            "Why not?"

            "Pietro, if I were your girlfriend, I'd never be able to kiss you goodnight.  I'd never be able to touch your face or hold your hand.  And I honestly don't think I could hold your interest, not for long, and I don't want to get hurt."

            "Couldn't hold my interest?  Rogue, I've kept a feud going with Evan Daniels, the most unworthy nemesis since the dark ages, and that holds my interest."

            "It's not just that."

            Pietro fell silent.  I don't want to hear this, I know I don't want to hear this…he thought, and if his mental counterpart were still in Rogue's head he would have been saying the same thing. 

            "It won't work, Pietro.  In my head, it's safe, no one can trouble us, no one can take you away from me or split us apart.  I had the nicest dreams, just of you and me being normal, watching TV, playing…" her voice cracked a little, and she paused to regain her composure.  "Playing scrabble, bickering, tickling each other.  It made me so happy."

            "Then why not?"

            "Because it won't be like that, it can't." 

            Pietro held his breath, conflicting emotions flooding through him as her hand grazed the top of his thigh through the denim of his jeans.

            "That's as close as I can ever get to you without hurting you."

            Pietro shivered and let his fingers trail over her hair. 

            "I only touched you for ten seconds and you had to sleep for two days to recover."

            "But that whole time, I was with you in your head, and we were happy," Pietro said.  Rogue thought back to her last dream and tears escaped, the warm saltwater sinking through Pietro's jeans and touching the skin underneath. 

            "More or less, we were happy," she said, her voice quivering.  "But that's the only place it could work."

            "Then I guess that's where it's going to have to stay," Pietro said, and, turning her gently, laid both hands on the sides of her face.

AN the second:  I know, I'm awful, I promise I won't leave you hanging for long.  Next chapter may be up late tonight (in the wee hours of the A.M.) or sometime tomorrow before four, EST.