DISCLAIMER: Marvel's, even if they don't treat them right!

He remembered the first time he met her. It brought a smile to his face as he touched the back of his head. She was leaning over her microscope, her small glasses sliding down her nose. The lab coat gave the appearance she was shaped like a box. Her hair was a long ponytail down her back. She wore pink fluffy slippers.

Scott entered the lab, quietly. She hadn't realized he was there, and he moved behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the other around her throat.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, angrily, biting his arm.

"You know what they say. All work and no play will make you…"

"A dull boy?"

"No."

"Go crazy?"

"Don't mind if I do!" Scott roared, tossing her over his shoulder and taking off in a run.

"Put me down!" Jean shrieked, beating at his back, even if she did enjoy the particularly appealing view of his muscular backside as he ran. He laughed and brushed past Kitty and Bobby standing in a doorway. Kitty's jaw dropped.

"Can he…do that to Ms. Grey?"

"That's Dr. Grey!" Jean shouted. "And no!" She was tickling his ribs as he ran, and his breath came out in chortles. He raced outside with her, into the snow and tossed her down in a snow bank. Then he trapped her beneath his powerful thighs and shoved snow in her face.

Scott fell forward as he was pummeled from behind by a large snowball. Jean laughed as he plucked snow from his hair, his face gleaming. "No fair!" he cried. "You can't use powers!"

"Oh yeah?" she asked, balling up the snow in her fist and tossing it. It bounced off his visor and slid in a puddly mess down his face.

He tackled her, landing on top of her in the snow drift. She was laughing so hard it was difficult to breath, and his heavy body on top of hers didn't help. She squirmed under him to try to get away, but stilled suddenly. He was looking at her intently, curling a piece of her red hair around his finger.

"Scott," she started. He shook his head and stood up, wiping the snow off his knees. He offered her a hand and she stood up as well.

He shrugged. "Get back to work, Ms. Grey!" he barked, but his voice lacked the playful quality he had had a second ago.

"You know what they say, Scott?" she said, a dangerous smile curving her face. "About all work and no play?"

"What?" he asked, turning around. He found himself staring up at the sky a moment later, beneath a large snowball.

"Makes you go crazy! And it's Dr. Grey," she said, laughing, as she walked back towards the mansion.

"Oh that was cute, One-eye," Rogue said, standing above him. The black of her clothes stood out in stark contrast to the white snow nad gray sky as she pulled him up. "Suave. The way to a lady's heart is to drag her away from important work, into the snow, and proceed to stuff it in her face."

"I don't see you doing any better," he gruffed, picking ice from his hair. Rogue handed him a hankerchief to wash off his visor, that had steamed in the snow.

"No, Ah prefer the Ah hate you methodology. At least, this way, Ah don't have to worry about him botherin' me."

"Who are we talking about here?" Scott asked, trudging towards the mansion. She fell into step next to him.

"Everybody. Ah hate them all." Her voice was so pleasant, he had to laugh. "What are you laughing at? Ah hate you most of all."

"Oh really?" Scott said, pausing to look at her. She stuck her hand on her hip and jutted her chin at him.

"Ye-aaaaaa!" he tackled her in the snow.

Jean watched them. She felt something black in her heart as they wrestled in the snow. Rogue was grinning wildly at him, pummeling him with snowballs. He melted them with his blasts. He chased her, trying to tackle her back in the snow. She let out a yell and ran across the yard.

They seemed a more likely couple. They were both young, attractive. They had grown closer since the Onslaught incident, a mere month ago. She rubbed her forehead, hardly believing that much time had passed. Rogue had changed quite a bit, going more goth in her look and ostracizing everyone except Scott, Kurt, and Logan. She was prone to fits of dark rages, tearing into the Danger Room with a reckless abandon, which had her tutoring under Wolverine, courtesy of the Professor, as well as undergoing therapy with him. Beast was still researching the technology of the necklace, but Jean had personally given up hope on that front. It seemed to dangerous to keep something that terrible around.

Scott had grown as a leader. Even though he was younger, the new recruits looked to him for guidance, on and off the battlefield. They had all decided to stay, except for Emma Frost. But Jean had the feeling that wasn't the last they'd see of the girl, no matter how hard she hoped. There seemed to be history with her and the Professor, and with Scott.

She had to laugh as Rogue straddled his back, one arm of Scott's twisted behind his back, grinding his face into the snow. She had a particularly vicious smile on her face, and she could hear Scott's muffled cries of "Uncle!"

"It would be okay, you know," Warren said, handing her a cup of cocoa and standing beside her. "No one would care."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, sipping daintily from the mug. It burned her tongue.

"Don't be coy, Jean Grey. You're too smart to be so dense." He tapped her head.

"I'd care." She rested her forehead against the glass with a sigh. "He hasn't even graduated, War! That's like…stagatory, or something."

Warren shrugged, "You can't help who you love Jean. God knows I wish I could," Warren said, grinning across the room at his purple tressed girlfriend. She was sharpening her sais as Bobby watched in fascinated wonder.

"Well, I wish I could run around the house in purple lingerie all day," Jean said, laughing with him.

"Mmm, I wish that too," Warren said, leaning close and waggling his eyebrows at her. A sai found it's way into the wall between them, lightening fast. Jean laughed and pulled it from the wall.

"I think you should replace this with flowers, Warren." She siad.

"Flowers? Betsy would kill me. Do you know how cliched that is? No she wants sharp pointy things."

Jean laughed. The door opened and a soggy Scott walked in. Rogue was behind him, stamping snow off her boots. She made a face at Jean. "Poor baby couldn't handle the pressure," she said.

"Hey!" Scott said. "If I could bench a ton I think hold you down till you cried mercy too!" Rogue smiled innocently, a look at odds with her dark hair and makeup and clothes.

"Waa waa. Why don't you go cry about it?" Rogue snarked.

"Oh, you want round two, do you?" Scott said, puffing up his chest and pounding his fist on it. "I just didn't want to hurt a girl, but now…it's on!"

"Save it, Conan. I have work to do," Rogue said, brushing past them, rolling her eyes. Scott smiled hopefully at Jean.

"She wounds my masculinity," he said.

"That would require masculinity, Scott," Warren said.

"What would you know? You're dating She-hulk over there." The other sai lodged itself in the door behind him. He pulled it out and handed it to Warren. "Your girlfriend is a bit psycho."

Warren grimaced as a pencil found it's way into the wall. "That's why I love her!" he said, loudly. A stapler imbedded itself next to his head. "You know, if you keep doing that, Xavier's gonna make you pay to stay here!" he shouted, shaking his head. He mouthed the word 'crazy' to them, and then went running off to sit beside her. Scott whirled his finger at his temple, and Jean smothered a laugh.

"She's psychic, you know," she said. He made a face.

"Isn't everybody?"

"Well we all can't have cool I-blow-things-up-with-my-eyeballs powers now can we?" Jean said. "I have work to finish, before I was so rudely interupted." She smiled at him. It hurt to smile at him, sometimes, when she really just wanted to drag him to some dark little corner and make out with him. Betsy laughed loudly, turning her head to look at her.

"I didn't know you were such a…voyeurist, Jean Grey," she said.

Jean flicked her the finger, then turned abruptly and marched to her lab. Scott quirked an eyebrow at Betsy who shrugged innocently. He sighed, rubbing his palms on his jeans, then turned. He needed to work on his bike. Logan had been a little rough with her the other day, and he wanted to make sure she was still in good working order. He trudged through the snow, wishing he had brought a heavier jacket with him. The garage looked deserted, the lights dim and the heat off, but he heard a few rustles and clanks.

"Hello?" he asked, flipping on the bright overhead light.

"Mon ami! You tryin' to blind me?" a husky voice asked, echoing in the large expanse.

"Gambit?" he asked, incredulously.

"None other," he said, standing up and wiping his greasy hands with an equally greasy rag. He frowned at it, then tucked it into his back pocket.

"What are you doing here?"

"Xavier asked me t'come."

"Really?" Scott found it hard to believe. The mutant had a tendency to disappear for days at a time, spending more of his time away from the mansion than with the rest of the team. The time he was there, well, he flirted with the girls, poked fights with the boys, especially Logan, and tormented Rogue to no avail. This had been his longest absence yet, he had disappeared one morning six days ago.

Remy nodded. "You here t'work on Mabel?"

"Excuse me?" Scott asked. Remy jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Dat beautiful piece o' machinery. I call her Mabel."

"You…named…my bike?" Scott choked.

"She was just to pretty t'be Harley. I see you been lettin' Wolf Man run her into de ground. Poor baby," he mrumered, running a hand over her handlebars. "But she's as good as new now. Englebert, however…," he shook his head sadly at his bike. "He ain't so pretty, but he runs fast anyhow," he grinned mischeviously at him. "Seein' as you 'ave de 'magic touch', an' I tuned Mabel, how bout you give ol' Eng a look over?"

Scott sighed, "Yeah, I'll give Engl-your bike a look."

"T'ank you, mon ami. I know bikes, but I ain't know how t'fix 'em like you do."

"Flattery, Mr. LeBeau, will get you no where," he said, kneeling down beside Gambit's bike. It was a beatiful machine, old but reliable. It had been souped up some time ago, and had seen many miles of dust and mud, but it ran beautifully. Some things just weren't so easy to see through their misleading exteriors. He looked at Gambit. Sometimes it was just hard to see the heart of gold in the man with eyes like the devil.

"Ah hate you!" Rogue shouted. She stood at the top of the stair, a towel wrapped around her body, her hair dripping on her shoulders and the floor. "Ah will kill you!"

Bobby stood at the bottom of the stairs, guffawing, his face a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"What is going on here?" Logan demanded.

"Bobby froze the dang pipes on me, while Ah was showerin'!" Rogue shouted, her accent thick with her anger. "Ah'm gonna squeeze your neck till yoah eyes bug outta there sockets, Snow Man!" she seethed, stamping her foot.

"Rogue, for the love of God, put some clothes on. Bobby, meet me in the Danger Room," Logan demanded.

"But," Bobby said, his face dcraining of color.

"No buts."

Rogue stuck her tongue out, turned on her heel, and marched to her room. Gambit lounged against the door, arms crossed over his chest. He eyed her boldly as she walked up. She suddenly felt way to exposed in just a towel, and pulled it tighter against her chest.

"Move."

"Wow, chere, I didn't know your eyelashes were red."

"Oh mah Gawd!" Rogue shrieked, her hands flying to her face, a blush blossoming on her cheeks.

"Forget you wore no makeup?" he asked. "You look better wit'out it."

"Fuck you, Swamp Rat," she cursed. "Move."

"Maybe if you ask a little nicer," he said, leering in her face.

She waved her bare hand. "Ah have more skin exposed than Pam Anderson in a Playboy spread, so if you don't want me to suck all those deranged thoughts outta your twisted little head, you're gonna move."

"Well," he said, pushing himself off the door. "Since you asked nicely."

She growled as she breezed past him. He laughed, a hand catching at her towel. She stopped and went to slap him, then pulled her hand up. He saw the look of fear that crossed her pale features, and immediately let go. She blinked at him, her hand still hovering in the air. She sucked in a breath, letting it fall, shaking her head, causing droplets from her short hair to spray his face.

"You were lucky, Cajun," she muttered.

"Maybe in your opinion, chere, but you still wearin' dat towel now, non?"

She rolled her eyes and slammed the door in his grinning face. She slumped against it when she was shut, hating the way her heart flip flopped painfully at seeing him. She hated him. Despised him. Wished he had stayed far, far away. He smelled like cigarettes. She could think of a million reasons why she shouldn't have butterflies in her stomach. She could hear him talking to someone outside the door, his silky, seductive accent carressing her ears. She growled again, went to her radio, and blasted her music as loud as she could. Rob Zombie had a way of making her feel better.

She rummaged through her closet, pulling on a pair of black jeans, a neon green tank top, and a black, long sleeved mesh, ripped from the neck down the chest. She snapped on her spiked choker and rummaged around till she found her studded biking gloves. She finished the ensemble with her ever faithful combat boots. She brushed her short, sleek hair, pulling it up in a spiky pony tail and pinning the pieces that wouldn't fit to her head, making sure the ends stuck up. She applied her makeup, dark eyes, dark lips, pale skin. She liked the look. It made her…unapproachable. She grabbed her bag, throwing in her notebook and some lipstick.

"Rogue!" the knock came at the door. "If you don't hurry we are going to be late!"

She opened the door just as Scott had raised his hand to knock again. She scowled at him. "Where's Bobby?"

"He's in the car. Kit's in the car. Kurt's in the car. Everyone except you."

"You're not in the car," Rogue said, shouldering her bag and moving past him. She cocked her hip, staring at him. "Are you coming."

Scott unclenched his fists and followed her. She frowned at him across the front of his red convertible, then slipped into the front seat.

"Like, Rogue, I love your tank top!"

"Thanks," Rogue muttered as Kitty plucked the slinky material through the mesh.

"It really draws attention to your figure. I wish I had curves like you," the girl frowned.

"All right, already," Rogue said, slapping the girl's hand away. Scott laughed, putting the car in reverse. Suddenly a motorcycle roared past, a long brown trenchcoat and a stream of smoke trailing behind the tires. It squealed to a stop inches from Rogue's side of the car.

"Want a ride, chere?" he asked, taking a drag from his cigarette before flicking it away and leaning in her face. Kitty squealed with delight in the backseat.

"No," Rogue said.

"Rogue!" Kitty screeched, slapping her arm. "Take a ride on the motorcylce. That would be so…," she batted her eyes at Remy, "romantic."

Rogue snorted. "Would you like a ride, petite?" Remy said, grinning at the younger girl.

Rogue got out of the car, slamming the door pointedly behind her. She swung a leg over Remy's bike, hoisting her bag across her chest. The bike purred between her legs as she slid on, grasping the seat behind her for balance.

"How am Ah supposed to hold on?" she demanded. Remy swung the bike around, heading it towards the road.

"Put your arms around me," he replied, before gunning the motor. Scott did not look happy.

Scowling, he said, "Put a helmet on!" But Rogue barely heard him over the roar of the bike. She lurched forward and quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, ducking her head against his back to avoid the wind. He drove like a maniac, making sharp turns and speeding. She could feel the muscles ripple in his back and abdomen as he moved, navigating the bike. He turned his head to speak to her, his voice floating back on the wind.

"Enjoying de ride?"

She gloved hand to his ear, spreading the fingers to speak through them, so that she wouldn't accidently brush it with her lips. "No!"

He laughed, cocking his head back so she got a mouthful of his shaggy hair. She spat it out, as he wheelied the bike. She screamed and held on tighter, closing her eyes in fear. Why she had let jealousy spurn her to ride this demon machine with the devil at the handlebars was beyond her.

"Where are we going?" she asked. "This isn't the way to school." He turned and grinned at her, his mysterious eyes flashing. "Look at the road!" she squealed. She felt the laughter rumble in his chest.

"I'm takin' you somewhere special, chere."

"Focus Jean."

"I'm trying, Professor!" she snapped, her forehead creased. She stared at the white piece of paper, trying to read his mind. The walls were thick and high, and no matter how much she beat at them, she couldn't get through. "A christmas tree."

He sighed and put the card down so she could see the car on the front. She frowned at it, and rubbed her forehead, at the dull headache throbbing in her temples.

"What is the matter Jean?" he asked tiredly.

She didn't want to tell him. She was afraid. She feared her powers would spiral out of control again. That she wouldn't remember what she had done. That whatever was inside her, black and angry and smoldering below the surface, would take control again.

"I'm just tired," she said, staring at the card. How come she couldn't see the car on it. "Dr. Reyes is working me hard," she said.

A pleased smile crossed the Professor's face. "She has only wonderful things to say about you. She thinks you will make a great doctor," he added.

"Thanks for getting me the job, so that I could stay here and work on my powers," Jean said. "I think I'm going to go back to the lab, try to work off some exhaustion." She got up from the table.

When you are ready, you can tell me. He was shuffling the cards idly, his face not portraying he had thought anything to her.

I know, she replied, walking out. But will you be ready?