A/N: Thank you so much for sticking with this series through the years. It took me 8,5 years to get from conception of this story to today, but I'm so proud of what I've done with it.

It's a short little epilogue, but I still have more ideas for this universe. None of them multi-chaptered (god knows that would take me forever to execute, again). If you're still interested, feel free ot follow me here or on AO3 under the same username.

Title from the Smith's Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want

Epilogue: Let Me Get What I Want This Time

Rogue stayed in the med-bay longer than was necessary. She felt as if she were to leave this bubble of I touched someone and go back to her regular room, her regular life, it would turn out to be a lie.

It felt like a lie. If not for the fact that she couldn't really remember how skin felt without the pull of her powers, she would talk herself into thinking her fucked up mind came up with the whole thing on its own.

After Remy woke up, his hand came back to her gloved one immediately.

"We touched" She whispered to him. If it was all a prank of her touch starved mind, he could bring her back down to earth. "Fo' real."

"Cherie, we're touchin' right now" He kissed the palm of her glove before smiling delicately. "Oui. Skin to skin."

Well that made her insides coil. Heat rushed to her face and she cursed the lack of her usual make up. That seemed to make him smile wider.

"Ah'm… Not really…"

"Remy's tryin to say – we don't have to, Rogue" He sighed, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "You make me feel enough through these, mon amour" He sat next to her on the bed, his thigh pressing against her hip and warming her up through the layers of clothes and sheets. "You've also told me your name."

And wasn't that a revelation? Her face turned even warmer.

"Ah like that yah know it" The truth of it rushed through her insides. "But Ah don't like the name itself. Ah chose Rogue fo' a reason."

"A secret shall it be" He stopped, thinking about something before leaning in a bit. His breath hit her ear aa he whispered. "Remy's good at those."

A very uncharacteristic giggle ripped through her. Jesus, what have Ah become?

Remy's eyes sparkled in the sharp fluorescents and he seemed to glow at the sound that left her.

"Ah want to try though" She said after a while, her curiosity and fear battling inside her mind. "But with something small. And quick."

She slapped his arm as he clearly thought back against the obvious joke in there.

"If you let me, Remy's got une idée" He delicately brushed back her fringe, cautious not to brush her forehead or the tip of her ear.

He breath caught in her throat as he leaned in even closer, their lips an inch apart. Remy's eyes looked straight at her lips, his own curving into a smirk.

"À ton tour" His breath smelled like mint with a hint of cigarettes under it. It should have been unappetizing.

It called to her.

Her eyes closed as she slowly closed the gap.

Kissing a guy you liked was a completely different kind of pull.

Jamie groaned and finally untangled himself from Violette's arms.

"Don't think I'll forgive you for ditching me for Laura."

"As if you didn't ditch me for Kurt."

"Touché."

They were sitting in her room. He could some of the photos that used to be in her album have migrated to small frames on her bedside table.

"I love you. I don't know how we did it, but I'm so happy we found each other again."

His sister's eyes sparkled as if she didn't already know that.

"You're turning into a sap, Jamie."

"See if I'm ever nice to you again, you asshat."

They playfully hit each other in the chest with the back of their hands. It made him laugh to think how dumb they were.

Maybe this time, they could just be dumb teenagers for a while.

Wanda opened her eyes to darkness. There were sounds coming from beneath her – downstairs, the kitchen supplied her mind – someone was talking. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she could see she was laying on a bed. There was a vanity in the corner, opposite a chest of drawers. She was wearing a skintight suit.

Battle gear. This is my room. I live here.

She stumbled off the bed, walking towards the vanity. The light outside was just enough to let her see that her face was a mess of make up and grime. Her arm was covered in a bright white cast, at odds with the rest of her attire. There was a purple bruise on the side of her head. She took off the corset top, thankful that the zipper was under the injured arm, so that she could reach it without an issue. The tight pants were more of a struggle, they were plastered to her with sweat and more grime. She opened one of the drawers and dug through it, pulling out a big shirt and soft looking shorts. There was a fluffy robe hanging on the back of her door. She put it on and walked out, new clothes in hand.

Her subconscious thankfully knew where the bathroom was. She took a hot shower, mindful not to get her cast wet. Washing her hair was a bit of a nightmare with just one hand. The water flowing past her feet turned from a muddy brown through greyish to – finally – clear. She dressed into the soft clothes she chose and decided to go back to her room.

There was a knock on her door after a while – Was it minutes? Hours? Days? – and it opened a crack, a big hand holding out a plate of food.

"Can I come in?"

Fred.

"Yeah" Her voice was raspy.

He walked in, a plate filled with pancakes and a cup of tea in his hands.

"Do you know where we are?"

She nodded, curling her legs up towards her chest to let him sit on the end of her bed. She accepted the cup, the warm liquid doing wonders for her throat.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Freddy" She answered easily, before grabbing the pancake with her bare hand and folding it in half to dip in the pool of syrup on the side of the plate. "Thank you."

He smiled slightly, watching her eat.

"Do you remember what happened, Wanda?"

Fire. Pain. Being alone.

She nodded, trying to focus entirely on the food. Mmm, blueberries.

"Pietro's really worried about-"

"No" She shook her head, her eyes screwing shut. She tried to bat away the memories flooding her mind. "No, I don't want to talk about it."

Freddy nodded, hesitating before his large finger brushed her wet hair off her forehead. She shivered at the touch.

"I think we should" He said, sighing. "Soon. Shield has therapists, you know? I won't let you be alone with any of them though. We could all go, together."

Wanda had no idea how to feel about it. But the look on Freddy's face said that it was a promise of something better. Something real, that they could build together.

Because the memories of her early teenage years – the real ones, but the fake ones too, now that she knew they weren't true – they were sad. But she had a good childhood. She had a good present. Filled with the boys and Luna and blueberry pancakes on the days she felt bad.

So she nodded. Because if that made her mind a bit better – not quiet, not like she was trying to forget who she was, not lonely – it was worth the struggle.

Bobby finally let himself rest, his aching body sprawled over the mattress of his bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about what Phoenix said to them in her final moments occupying Rogue's body.

'I'm the things you fear about yourselves, the secrets you keep in the dark. And you can't get rid of me.'

He could feel something buried deeply in the back of his mind slowly creep to the surface. He knew the explanation for every issue he had with himself and his relationships, he knew it. But was he ready to face it? Was it another box he was going to put himself into, imprisoning him for the rest of his life? Branding him as an even bigger freak than he already was?

'You can't get rid of me.'

The dark shadows of the trees wobbling in the wind outside his window painted his walls, drifting, ever-changing.

Bobby took a deep breath, testing the words out on his tongue.

"I'm gay."