Rogue settled into her old room, a feeling of nostalgia washing over her. It was still empty, even after all the years she'd been away. Scratching Logan behind the ear, she whispered a command to him and laid her suitcase on the bed. Packing could wait; now she had to see him.

..............................................................x-x-x-x-x-x-x.............................................................

Drawing back a white curtain, Rogue's chin trembled as she gazed at the limp figure lying in the bed, tubes sticking out of his arms in almost every space available. Logan's eyes were closed, and his arms laid loosely by his chest. He was breathing; she could see the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, but he wasn't moving. Taking the seat by his bed, she leaned over him and touched his face gently, marveling at the heat radiating from it. But, he didn't wake up.

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but none fell yet. Shutting her eyes to clear the blurry vision, Rogue opened them again and gazed down at him, lifting a loose lock of his hair away from his forehead. "Logan," she whispered, gazing at his face for a flicker of change- or anything. "Logan, it's Marie. I'm- I'm here. I heard you got hurt, Logan, and I-" she stopped, choking back another sob working its way up. The sound of a throat being cleared in the doorway made her glance up, but she didn't move from her position.

"Hi." Hank moved further into the room, and held out his hand. "It's nice to see you again, Rogue."

Reluctantly moving from Logan's side, she attempted to smile and shook his large, blue hand. "Hey. It's good to be back." Then, gesturing toward Logan, asked, "How is he?"

Running his hand through his hair, Hank sighed. "The same. He's been in a coma for more than two weeks now, and he's not showing any signs of waking."

Rogue nodded numbly, and sat back down in the chair. "How i-" she cleared her throat, "Um, Exactly what happened? The Professor didn't give me much information. He only said Logan got the brunt of a magnetic explosion."

Hank's ear twitched. "Yes, all of us were near that blast, but Logan was in it. Magneto had somehow managed to accumulate the force of magnetic pressure, and had given it the properties of a bomb." Nearing the hospital bed, and checking a few meters, he then turned his attention back to Rogue. "All of us were knocked out at first, but eventually we woke up." Glancing wistfully at his patient, he knew he didn't have to say Logan was the only one that hadn't.

"What about his healing ability?" she asked him, furrowing her eyebrows. "Shouldn't they be helping him recover?"

Hanging his head- almost guiltily- Hank shrugged. "They don't seem to be. The magnetic blast was pretty powerful."

"Then," glancing up at the beast, she suddenly had a feeling he was keeping something from her. "Why was Logan in the blast by himself?"

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Hank just sent her a helpless look. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask Professor Xavier that."

Unsatisfied with his reply, Rogue turned and gazed intently at Logan. The last time she'd seen him look so still was on the Statue of Liberty, and he had risked his life for her. It scared the crap out of her. "What should I do?" she asked, her throat tightening.

"The most you can do right now is talk to him. Usually, that brings people out faster."

"Professor Xavier?!" Rogue burst into his office, her anger and confusion far surpassing the uncertainty of barging in unannounced on the telepath.

Charles Xavier had his wheelchair positioned in front of his desk, and his hands were folded neatly on his lap as if he'd been waiting for her- which he had. "Rogue," he said, his voice warning- not because she had rudely burst into his private office, but because he knew what she wanted to know, and wasn't sure if she was ready to hear it.

"Tell me what happened to him," she replied firmly, standing in front of him and crossing her arms. "Tell me why his healing powers aren't working, and why he was the only one in that blast."

He gestured toward a chair, already pulled up across from him. "You may want to sit down, Rogue."

Confusion and rage boiled through her, but she sat heavily in the chair, her intense gaze never wavering from the telepath. "Tell me," she repeated.

Leaning back in his wheelchair, Xavier nodded, knowing she wouldn't want to wait another day, and began his story. "Ever since you left, Logan has been - well, for lack of a better word- depressed." Rogue winced, her arms falling to her sides. "When the warning was sent out about that magnetic bomb, Logan actually went looking for it. He claimed he wanted to dismember it before it hurt anyone, but--" Xavier paused, rubbing his hand sadly over his chin, "I knew that it was because he wanted his pain to end."

Seeing Rogue's horror-stricken face, he anticipated her question. "You see, Rogue, your leaving was just the beginning of his turmoil. After a while, he didn't take any interest in the events around him, and spent most of his time fighting. Then, he and Jean ended their relationship, leaving him to his own devices. For months, he'd walked this mansion looking as if life had lost all meaning."

He waited in respectful silence as Rogue took all of this in, her mouth parting and tears falling quietly down her cheeks. "The reason his healing may not be bringing him out of this coma may just be because he doesn't want it to. His will to die is so strong that he'll do anything if it means he doesn't have to face the world anymore."

Rogue's glassy eyes gazed solemnly at the professor, and then dropped toward the ground. Logan was dying because she had left. She'd left him in turmoil. He and Jean had split up. He didn't want to live anymore. It was her fault- her fault. Now, she had to fix it. She needed to save him the way he had saved her.

Wordlessly, she rose from her chair and nodded her thanks warily toward the professor. It seemed as if she couldn't escape that room fast enough. Her legs brought her back to the medlab, and she was instantly by Logan's side, holding his hand tightly and crying into his shoulder, her tears soaking through his hospital gown.

"Logan, I'm sorry," she whispered mournfully, squeezing his hand. "I'm so- so sorry." When her tears had finally dried, and her eyes began to feel weighed down, she settled into the chair by his bed, still clutching his hand, and fell asleep.