No birds sang, no wind blew, no branches rustled; the entire world stopped to listen in the aftermath of Marie's scream.

The first thing she realized was that she wasn't dead. Trying not to move, trying not even to breathe, Marie opened her eyes. Logan's fist was less than two inches away, his claws embedded in the dirt. Her eyes widened. She turned her head; there was his other hand, just as close. She came within three inches of being a Marie shish-kebab.

Her cheek pressed against the dirt, her eyes darted to Logan. He was red-faced and panting, visibly struggling to cage the Wolverine. She gulped and her gaze focused once again on the adamantium claw right in front of her nose.

She pushed him too far.

There was nothing she could say, there was nothing she could do; she couldn't move until he did. She lay silently beneath him, waiting for him to regain control.

Without warning he jerked his claws from the ground and sheathed them, but he didn't move. She turned her head to him. He was so close she could kiss him again, but she didn't dare.

"Lo...Logan?" she whispered.

His answer was halfway between a sigh and a grunt. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why."

She wiggled uncomfortably. He was really heavy. "Tactical maneuver." She licked her lips, which were bone dry. "It worked."

He gave a bitter bark of laughter. "That...that can't ever happen again." He finally climbed off her. He didn't offer her a hand up.

She gathered herself together. "What can't?" She stood and brushed at her dirty pants.

He swept his hand across the entire fighting field. "That. All of that."

She swallowed, her nerves finally catching back up to her after she got knocked on her ass. "I was enjoying myself right at the end there." She cocked her head. "Well...mostly," she conceded.

"No!" he protested, pacing around her, unable to meet her eyes. He was sweaty and his hair and eyes were wild but he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. "You can't...we can't..."

She knew what he meant. Her response was quiet. "Why not?"

Years ago, when they first met, she had been too young to know how to unpin her heart from her sleeve when it came to all things Logan. She knew and she suspected correctly that he knew, but since she never made a move it was a fact that she could live with and one he could easily ignore. But here it was; she has just laid all her cards out on the table with two little words.

Logan had frozen in mid-pace. He turned slowly, and she could see the surprise in his stare. Understandable; it was the first time she'd been so blunt and to the point about her feelings for him. Logan recovered slowly.

"Because."

"Because why? We're two consenting adults."

"You're not-" he started but she cut him off.

"I am an adult. I have been for a long time."

"I'm too old for you."

"You don't even know how old you are," Marie reasoned.

He shook his head and began pacing again. "We're friends."

She felt like the eye of a storm as he circled her; calm and serene against his chaos. "Friendships change."

He growled. "Mine don't." He shook his head again, the back and forth action seeming to cement his decision. "I can't lose you as a friend. I can't."

"We can be friends and more than friends. You won't lose me."

"Bullshit!" he spat. "Kid, I fuck women. I don't fuck friends."

Now she was getting pissed off again. She planted her hands on her hips. "You're not being fair."

"This isn't about fair."

"Tell me you didn't enjoy that."

She meant the kiss. She could see in his eyes that he was thinking about the fight.

"I can't," he rasped.

Logan disappeared into the bushes.

Marie stormed back to the cabin, her anger and frustration swirling around her like a dense cloud. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and from the pounding soreness in her ribs and the side of her face; she knew she wasn't going to like looking in the mirror. Her left eye was starting to swell shut. She touched her right cheek and winced; the skin there was scraped raw. She lowered her fingers and sighed. Well, at least there wasn't any blood.

God, she could still taste him on her lips, feel his mouth on hers.

When she got to the cabin she bypassed the bathroom, heading straight for the bedroom where she changed into jeans and a clean tank top. She then proceeded to stuff her belongings into the duffel sack Logan had brought for her.

As she stuffed, she calmed herself enough to make a mental phone call.

PROFESSOR she thought, as loudly as she could. PROFESSOR XAVIER

She was grabbing for a handful of socks when she felt him in her head.

Rogue. You called? He retained his cool, crisp British accent even when in her head.

She snorted and stalked to the bathroom for her toothbrush and toothpaste. I need you to send Scott out with the jeep to come get me She shoved the toiletries into the duffel. Perversely, she left a pair of violet lace panties on the bed in plain sight. It was the only thing of hers Logan was going to find when he got back. She yanked the drawstring shut.

...are you all right? the Professor asked.

She felt like she'd gone through ten rounds with Mike Tyson and lost. She just had her first real kiss and in the process, and probably lost her closest friend. She was so fucking far from all right it wasn't even funny. Gritting her teeth, she hoisted the heavy bag over her shoulder.

Just tell him I'll meet him halfway she thought, and hung up the mental phone. She was alone in her head again.

Marie walked out of the cabin, and slammed the door behind her.

She double-timed it through the forest until she hit the dirt road that led through the back of the Professor's property. She strode down the center of the road, duffel slung over her back, refusing to be upset about anything that had happened until she was locked in her bathroom, immersed in the biggest bubble bath ever made.

She heard the jeep before she saw it. She let the bag drop and waited.

Scott pulled up, his face a careful study in neutrality. When he saw her, one eyebrow arched over his ruby-quartz sunglasses.

"Don't say a damn word," she grumbled. She tossed her bag in the backseat and climbed up next to him. "Just take me home."

Scott was an efficient and intuitive team leader; he knew when to shut up. He kept his mouth closed until they pulled into the multi-car garage. "The Professor told me he wants to see you in his office," Scott said. "Do you want me to take your stuff to your room?"

"Sure." She really wanted to sequester herself alone for awhile but she couldn't avoid Xavier forever. She took a moment in the downstairs bathroom to freshen up.

"Holy shit!" The expletive was out before she could help herself. Yeah, she knew she probably looked a little ragged but this was worse than she expected. She looked like she'd been mugged; the skin around her left eye was the color of a ripe plum tinged with a few spots of an ugly greenish yellow. Her right cheek looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to it, she had a split lip, and her hair was a mess.

She wet a towel and gingerly wiped off the dried blood at her mouth. There was absolutely nothing she could do about the black eye or her cheek except let her hair hang over the left side of her face. She couldn't pretend that people wouldn't notice; they would. And they would assume Logan did it, and that was why she came running back to the mansion. Come on, she told her reflection silently, you look like hell, and it's not going to get better than that until you get some heavy-duty concealer. So suck it up.

Marie steeled herself for a lecture and knocked on the door to the Professor's office.

"Come in."

Casually, as if she hadn't disappeared for a few days, as if she hadn't closed the entire team out for the prior month, Marie sauntered in. "You wanted to see me?" She sat in the leather chair opposite the Professor. Like Scott, he merely raised an eyebrow at the sight of her.

"Yes, I did, Rogue. I have a few things I wanted to discuss with you."

Marie nodded politely. It was actually odd being called Rogue again. She noticed his gaze wasn't leaving her skinned cheek, her swollen eye, and she sighed. "You should see the other guy," she quipped.

"Logan?"

"Our training exercise got a little…rambunctious."

Xavier waited for her to elaborate and when she stubbornly kept quiet, he sighed. "Very well. I have taken the liberty of assigning you a room in the east wing. No roommates; I thought you would like some privacy."

"I appreciate that." She really did; Kitty and Jubilee were wonderful but sometimes it seemed like their lifeblood was drama and gossip. "Thanks."

Xavier rested his arms on the desk, tented his fingers, and his expression turned from compassionate to shrewd. "I also wanted to take a moment to talk to you about the X-Men."

She tried not to stiffen and failed. "Yes?"

"You are still a member of the team, Rogue. Recent events have not changed that."

"I know."

"You are under no pressure, but I know Scott and the team would be happy to see you at the training sessions and team meetings. Whenever you feel-"

"When is the next meeting?"

The Professor looked a little surprised at her abruptness. "Wednesday morning. 10 a.m."

She nodded and squared her shoulders. "I'll be there."

Xavier smiled. "Excellent."

"Is there anything else you need, Professor?" She wanted to unpack, she wanted that bubble bath, she wanted an icepack for her face, and she wanted all of it before the students were released from their classes and she was barraged with questions.

"Should there be anything else?"

Logan's name hung in the air but Marie staunchly refused to think about him and she knew Xavier too tactful to bring it up on his own. She smiled diplomatically. "Nope."

"Here is your new room key," he passed it to her over the desk, "and you can read the team's latest reports on the intranet."

Marie slid her key into her pocket and stood. "Thanks again." No mention was made of her face. No mention was made of Logan, or her attitude changing from closing the team out to wanting to rejoin it. Good. She headed for the door.

"Rogue?"

She turned.

"Welcome home."

Logan didn't want to make it a bigger deal than it was. He wanted to approach the situation like an adult. He wanted to stay calm.

He failed.

His fists balling in Scott's ice blue polo shirt, Logan shoved him against the wall of the garage.

"Where IS she?" he growled.

Scott's upper lip curled. "You have three seconds to back off before you're toast."

The urge to respond to such a challenge filled him, but Logan relented. Scowling, he released the younger man and stepped back. Scott re-adjusted his shirt.

"Now then. Where were we? Oh right, hello, how are you, haven't seen you in what...three years? Normal people exchange pleasantries after being gone so long."

As much as Logan hated to admit it, Scott was right. Stalking up to the team leader and attacking him wasn't the best idea if he was planning on staying awhile. However, having to hike back to the mansion with nothing but his thoughts and Marie and Scott's combined scent to keep him company, he wasn't in the best of moods.

"Hello. How are you?" Logan paused, tried to rein in his instinctive hostility. "…congratulations."

Scott grinned in that annoying Boy Charming way. "Thanks." There was another pause in the conversation as the two men tried to relate to each other on a level other than rivalry. "Jean she...we wished you could have come to the wedding."

I bet, Logan thought, and kept his mouth shut. "We can go through the picture album sometime." The words were dripping with sarcasm as his impatience broke free. "Okay, pleasantries aside...where is she?"

The leader of the X-Men paused, his jaw tightening and his dislike for the Wolverine flaring to the surface once again. "You know, I don't know why I should help you. I saw that nice black eye you gave Rogue." Scott relished the look of shame that crossed Logan's face. It wasn't often he got to ruffle the older man's fur, and it felt good. "In fact, I should kick your ass..."

Scott let the sentence hang in the air.

"...but?" Logan prompted.

"But my guess is whatever you did to her, she gave back to you times ten." Scott's pearly whites flashed. "I would have paid a million dollars to see her take you down a peg. It's just a shame you heal too quickly."

Yeah, Logan thought. It is. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and fidgeted. He couldn't stand still if he tried. "Gonna tell me where she is or not, Cyke?"

Scott folded his arms across his chest. "Last I saw, she was going to talk with Xavier."

That was all Logan needed to hear.

He ignored the surprised looks from students and staff alike as he barged through the mansion to Professor Xavier's study. He didn't bother knocking, he just stormed in.

Marie wasn't there.

Xavier glanced up from the papers spread out on his desk. "Logan."

"Where is she?"

The Professor was thin-lipped. "In the MedLab, getting some aspirin and a cold pack."

Logan started to leave.

Xavier sent his disappointment directly to Logan's brain

That was your idea of being gentle?

Logan froze, his body sinking a few inches toward the ground. "You were right, okay? I couldn't help her. Not in the way she wants."

"And what way is that?"

There was no answer. Xavier sighed. "Whatever has happened between you two, I expect you to work it out for yourselves. I've prepared a room in the East wing for you. And, as always, you are a welcome addition to the X-Men." When Xavier paused this time, his silence was shrewd. "Unless, of course, you're leaving us again."

Logan glared. "Who said anything about leaving?" he barked gruffly.

"I just assumed..." Cool, manipulative Professor Xavier. He didn't need to use his telepathy to play his hand flawlessly.

"You know what you do when you assume, right?"

The Professor cocked his head, and raised a questioning eyebrow. "What?"

"You look like a dick." Logan stalked out of the office.

"Training exercise. No need to worry," Marie repeated for the tenth time to the twelfth person in the last half hour. Maybe if she got it tattooed on her forehead...

Jean Grey pressed an antiseptic pad against the scrape on her cheek; Marie hissed and flinched back.

"Sorry," the older woman murmured, and finished cleansing the wound as gently as possible. "Listen, Rogue-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Marie said immediately.

Jean sighed and perched against the steel table opposite her, hooking one leg behind the other. "Because you're tired or because it's about Logan?"

Marie felt herself blush and scowled.

Jean nodded knowingly. "I'm your friend you know. I would hate to think that ancient history could come between us."

"It's not that I don't want to discuss it with you because it's Logan, Jean. I don't want to talk about it at all." An icepack was floating across the room toward her; she accepted it and pressed it against her grateful face. "Thanks. And before you even think it, don't go probing in my head like I know you're dying to do."

Jean laughed. "I would never."

Marie rolled her good eye. "Ha."

"Rogue, you are my friend. Not Logan. All I have to say is: screw him. It looks like he used you as a punching bag. It's you I'm worried about."

"Don't worry about me," Marie assured Jean, "I can take care of myself."

"You closed us out and refused to talk, Scott and I are called away and when I get back you're living in the forest with a man we haven't seen in three years? Just what part of that are we not supposed to worry about?"

Marie growled. "I said, I don't want to talk about it."

Jean sighed, giving up. There was a polite knock on the door, and Dr. McCoy walked in. Actually, more like shambled in; his upper torso was so heavy and his arms so long that the blue-furred doctor had taken to walking on his knuckles like a gorilla.

"Her X-rays, Dr. Grey." He handed the folder to Jean and thudded over to Marie while Jean slid the films onto a light box and turned it on.

"Good news?"

Hank McCoy's grin was filled with razor sharp fangs and looked totally out of place and practically villainous on his cookie monster-esque body. "Unfortunately, you'll be one very sore young lady for awhile; that's a hell of a bruise. But there are no cracked ribs. Just take it easy for a week or so."

Jean turned the box off and walked to the medicine cabinet, floating a bottle of Tylenol to Marie. "You'll need these."

"Thanks," Marie said. She plucked the bottle from the air with her free hand and shoved it in the pocket of her jeans. "Am I free to go now?"

"Free as a bird," Dr. McCoy quipped, and retreated back to his section of the MedLab. Marie slipped off the bed she was sitting on and shuffled to the door.

"Marie?" Jean said.

"Yeah?"

"Welcome home."

The day so far had been a complete disaster. It started off in awkwardness and anxiety and during his sparring match with Marie it dissolved into utter chaos. She was the only person who could worm under his skin so bad and confuse him so much he wasn't sure whether he was coming or going, couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss or kill.

Oh, man, that kiss...he'd never been caught so off guard; not by Sabretooth, not by Stryker or Mystique- ANYone. And for a few brief seconds he had been lost in her lips and her tongue and it was so sweet and hot it terrified him. With one move she turned his world completely upside down.

Fuck.

He'd left to clear his head and when he came back to the cabin, all that was left of her was the scent of lemongrass and a pair of lacy purple panties that were currently stuffed in the pocket of his leather jacket. It seemed wrong to leave them in the cabin.

He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her, wasn't sure he was ready to see her but he knew he couldn't avoid her forever. Earlier in the week they claimed they were friends. As her friend, he needed to know she was all right before he would be able to sleep. Logan was mentally preparing an apology as he stalked through the East wing to where Marie's scent was.

I'm sorry I hit you. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I kissed you...more sorries ran through his head as turned the corner to her hall and skidded to a halt.

There was already someone knocking on her door, and that asshole had flowers.

All pretenses of keeping a low profile were dropped; he stalked to Remy LeBeau and grabbed his wrist just as the Cajun raised his hand to knock on her door again.

"Fuck're you doing here, bub?" Logan growled.

Remy's reddish-brown eyebrows raised and he shrugged with exaggerated ignorance. "I am merely here to say welcome home to ma chere." His words were innocent enough, but his unnerving red/black eyes betrayed his amorous intent.

Logan's eyes narrowed. "Hit the road, asshole."

"Temper, temper," Remy clucked.

Logan was a guy. He was that type of guy that parents warned their daughters about, and he could sniff out one of his own. Remy wanted one thing from Marie, and it wasn't a friendly hug. Logan couldn't help the way his hand tightened on Remy's wrist, enough pressure building to break the bone. He didn't care; he wanted to-

The smell of electricity burned Logan's nostrils. Remy snarled and his grip on the bouquet of roses jerked as the kinetic energy that was his mutant gift changed the silky red flowers from a sweet gesture to a ticking time bomb that glowed a harsh bluish purple in the muted light.

"Merde!" Remy threw the bundle as hard as he could. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled and both men ducked as the bouquet exploded in a burst of energy and wilted petals.

Two seconds later, Marie's bedroom door jerked open and she stood, red faced and panting as the dust and rose bits settled. Her eyes zeroed in on the scorch mark that now decorated the lush oriental carpet in the hallway, before scanning Logan and Remy, who were slowly brushing themselves off.

"What the FUCK are you two DOING?" she yelled.

"Sorry, chere," Remy drawled, stepping closer to her. He glanced at Logan. "I jus' got a little excited to see you, is all."

Marie stared at Logan as he uncurled himself to his full height. There was blood on his forehead from some shrapnel, and as she watched, the wound knitted itself together and disappeared.

"Logan?"

His eyes never leaving Remy, whose snide grin could melt butter, Logan shrugged carefully. "What Cajun said. I was just ah...dropping by to see if you were all right."

"…I'm fine." Unfortunately, she said it with her head down and her eyes averted. He could read her like an open book. Two steps and Logan was next to her, and her chin was in his hand. He raised her face, tilting it first to the right and then to the left. She watched his jaw work and nostrils flare when he saw her bruises.

"Is this your handiwork?" Remy demanded in his thick Cajun accent, pointing at her swollen eye. "What, have you come to gloat?"

Logan dropped his hand from her chin and was about to turn on the younger man when Marie grabbed his wrist and shook her head once sharply.

"No."

He pulled her closer and for one panicked second Marie thought he was going to kiss her, right there in the hallway, in front of Remy. Her stomach twisted.

"We need to talk," he whispered harshly in her ear.

"No fucking way," she breathed, and pulled her wrist from his grip. "I-"

Pounding feet sounded and suddenly half the school was staring down the smoke-filled hallway at the trio.

"Jesus Christ, did a bomb go-" Jubilee's eyes widened at the sight of Marie in her dressing gown flanked by Remy and Logan. "...off."

"Not a bomb," Remy explained casually, his hands held palm out in the universal gesture of appeasement. "Jus' me. I was a little overexcited at the sight of her beauty."

The petite Asian's eyebrows rose. "Rogue? What are you doing back?" Her eyes darted to Logan, over to Remy, to Marie's black eye, back to Logan, and realization started to dawn on her face. "Holy shit," Jubilee breathed, a storm cloud crossing her face as she made the connection between Logan and Marie and Marie's injury.

Marie had to do something before the group turned into a lynch mob. She stepped in between Logan and the growing number of students and staff that were cramming into the hallway.

"I am only going to say this once," Marie stated in a loud, clear voice. "Training. Exercise," she over-enunciated, her chin tilting up. "No. Need. To. Worry."

Logan's throat tickled with a growl that she felt more than heard. If he started his badass act now, all hell was going to break loose.

"This ends now," Marie hissed to the two men behind her. "You, in here," she grabbed Logan and literally shoved him into her bedroom, shutting the door behind him. "You," she said firmly to Remy, "would you excuse us?"

"Only if you agree to have dinner with me Friday night, chere."

She waved him off without entirely processing what he had said. "Fine, whatever."

"Friday night," Remy promised, and sauntered down the hallway with his hands shoved in his pockets, whistling and looking like he belonged in a Frank Sinatra movie. Marie jerked her door open and slammed it shut amidst a childish chorus of 'oooooooooooooooooooooooo!'

Logan had taken his jacket off and slung it over her desk chair. He was sitting on her bed, watching her warily. She was almost as pissed at him as she had been that morning. She wasn't even back in the mansion half an hour and already drama was ensuing.

"What the hell went on out there?" she seethed, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot impatiently.

Logan shrugged carefully. "It won't happen again."

"You're goddamn right it won't," she railed before wincing. She grabbed the cold pack that was melting on the desk and pressed it against her eye.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," he whispered.

Marie looked at him with her good eye. She didn't mean to; she didn't want him to see the misery and fury that he was the cause of. But something in his voice caused her to turn her head.

He was just sitting there, looking at her with those clear hazel eyes, and the hunger in them was clear. And oh God, it was how he'd always looked at her-

Marie's heart stuttered and he looked away quickly, as if he didn't want her to see those things. Marie looked away too, her mind racing. Suddenly clarity hit, and she knew what had happened with Remy.

Logan was jealous. Just a few hours ago he had chosen his claws over her lips, had denied her any chance of a romantic relationship, and yet here he was playing the jealous suitor.

She opened her mouth but then thought twice; she couldn't call him on it, no way. One disastrous encounter a day was enough.

"What do you want?" Marie asked finally.

"We're friends, right?"

Her eyes narrowed and she regarded him suspiciously. "Yeah. Why?"

"Friends don't run away," he said quietly.

Oh, that.

Marie sat on the other side of the bed, well enough away from him as to not smother him, and smoothed her hand through her hair. "Look...I realized something this morning. THIS is my reality, Logan, not hiding away in the forest. And I have to stop running away from it." She paused. "A friend would understand that."

Logan smiled ruefully and shook his head. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but there were so many they got stuck in his throat. He glanced at her again; she was very studiously gazing at some imaginary object on her desk. Her profile made his heart ache; he could see the girl that she had been and the woman that she had become while he was out roaming around the world.

"Would you excuse me," she said softly, still staring at her desk. "My bathwater is getting cold."

Logan shut the door tightly behind him.