Dr. Henry McCoy sat alone in his lab, typing up some notes he had been neglecting frightfully, in an attempt to forget about Rogue. It was not helping him disregard her, he admitted after an hour of trying, but it was getting his paperwork done. He therefore bowed to the inevitable, continued typing, and thought about her instead.
She probably would not come back tonight and speak with him about her day's escapades. He did hear, after an hour or so, odd outbursts of random cheering, so he assumed she was being well-received in her new state. He was delighted for her. She deserved the opportunity to connect with other beings that he and so many others took for granted.
He sighed. He admitted to some jealousy of whichever man finally captured her attention. One would, no doubt. She was a young woman with a romantic nature and now, with all barriers to intimate congress removed, the outcome was a foregone conclusion. It would not be him, certainly, but there would be someone.
Yet he wished she still needed his aid. He remembered the long hours in the lab, separating chemicals in the centrifuge, sometimes playing the piano while she sang and sometimes listening to her CDs as they worked together, all golden in his mind.
Perhaps she would return sometimes so he could remain a part of her new life, though not as her beloved. She and he had been amicable acquaintances before their mutual project of the past several months.
Bobby Drake ran into the lab. His eyes lit up when he saw Hank. "Hey, come on outside! Rogue's having her glove burning ceremony!"
"Glove burning?" Hank closed the notebook and rubbed his eyes. "Whose idea was this?"
Bobby shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're partying and burning things. I don't even have to work to make people laugh. It's great!"
He grinned and shrugged off his lab coat. Why not? He had been there since nearly the beginning. He had to see the end.
***************************
Out by the fire pit, it seemed that everyone who had ever known Rogue and who could travel was milling around and talking. Hank spied Scott in the back of the crowd, probably coordinating security. As he approached, he saw the dais someone had built for Rogue, about a foot above the main attraction. Bobby pushed him over to the dais, where Rogue, Jubilee, Logan, Kurt, and Professor X waited with boxes which had once contained Rogue's supplies of gloves, leggings, and other cover-ups. Rogue looked brilliantly happy, wearing only a blue T-shirt and some faded jean shorts, holding her brown box to her chest. She waved excitedly at him and began speaking.
The noises from the crowd died down slowly at first, but quickly after Logan extended his claws and growled, "Shut up!" Crude, yet quite effective.
"I wanted everyone to see how happy I am today. Thank you, everyone, who helped make this day possible, but especially Hank McCoy." She walked over and took his hand. He smiled and waved to the people, glad for once that his face was covered with fur so his blushes were hidden from all prying eyes. "This wonderful man spent several months making sure that I'd be safe, and that you would, too. Give him a hand." She dropped his, and he took a bow, almost overwhelmed by the force of the claps from the group in his honor. He struggled to remain unmoved. He had shed enough tears this day.
"Now, light 'em up! Burn them down!" She gestured and leaped down to the pit, pulling a pack of matches from her pocket. Logan, Kurt, and Jubilee followed, and soon the assorted piles of brilliant gold and green, black and blue were wreathed in flame. He watched in awe. He knew Rogue would be free some day, but had not expected it to be so soon. He continued observing from the raised platform as she greeted guests and was greeted by them.
She did not need him here, sitting alone, now that her goal was met. He got one final glimpse at the fire before he turned and left. He still had work to do.
"Where ya off to so fast, Hank?"
His internal disturbance was sufficient that the words from behind were his first warning that Logan was present. He gave an undignified hop and turned. The man's scent had changed as well, throwing him off further. He did not smell of old cigars and beer, but fresh pine and wood smoke. He cursed himself. "Just heading back to my laboratory."
"Ya wouldn't be tryin' to upset the guest of honor, right?" Logan's blue eyes challenged him. "Be a shame for Rogue to think her friends don't care about her." He snorted. "And don't try any of that 'she doesn't want me here' garbage. You know she does. Wouldn't start without you."
Hank sighed. "It would appear my presence is required for the full festivities, then."
"Sure is. If I can't get out of it, you can't."
"You desired to? What other commitments did you make?" Hank moved slowly, matching the shorter man's pace.
"None. Just don't like crowds." Logan stuck his hand in his shirt pocket absently, then flung it out again. "Come on."
They rejoined the merriment in full swing, and Hank soon was called upon to play keyboards as various X-men decided to show off their vocal talents, or lack thereof in some cases. He forgot in time that he had ever wanted to lose himself in work. This was fantastic fun!