Moving On – Chapter 19

By Gimpy


For too long Jubilee sat there on the medical bed staring at walls of metal. For too long her mind raced with wonder about what was going on behind the closed door just down the hall. An hour, the clock told her. The conference had started an hour ago, without her. The professor didn't tell her why she wasn't allowed inside, didn't explain to her why the answers Rogue was giving them were not hers to know. The room was simply deemed off limits for Bobby and her, leaving the couple to lurk in medical under the false pretense of watching over a sedated Scott. Even that hadn't lasted as long, her boyfriend had decided sleep was more important than his ex girlfriend's reasons and had left nearly forty minutes ago. So she sat and waited for those forty minutes, shifting between keeping vigil on the drug induced sleeping man, which did nothing for her boredom, and doors that refused to open up.

Mostly she used her performance that night to preoccupy her mind, running over every last detail with scrutiny. She analyzed her mistakes like Scott had taught her, picking at each moment and narrowing in on what she should have done, accepting that some of it had been unavoidable. That only lasted twenty minutes before the twisted and mangled bodies of the dead mutants resurfaced along with images of their carnage. It forced her eyes shut and a disgusted tremble in her hands. Once more she categorized it as tragic, but unavoidable, disentangling herself from the guilt. It was all she could do so as not to become enraged by it, crazed by it. If she took away their faces, made them collateral damage, maybe she would sleep that night… Maybe…

After twenty minutes of unsuccessfully purging her mind of their contorted bodies, a familiar whoosh mercifully removed her from the train of thought. She looked up in time to watch the medical doors slide their last two feet, revealing a numbed looking Rogue. She dropped down from her perch and stood before her damaged friend, concern in her eyes.

"Hi," she stuttered out when Rogue froze in the doorway.

Sluggishly, she responded to Jubilee's greeting, meeting her gaze with glistening eyes. "Hi," was lisped back, arms entrenching her waist.

Eyeing the door for the constant figure that had been hovering at Rogue's side, Jubilee sighed with relief when Mystique did not follow. Stepping away from the gurney and closer to her friend she asked, "How did it go?"

Rogue's mouth dropped open but nothing came out, her eyes welling before a faint and eerie smile replaced the faint 'o'. "It… it went alright."

"That's good," Jubilee breathed in relief. Rogue simply swallowed stiffly, her glazed vision trailing the floor in a path to their wounded leader's bed. The guilt that threatened to devour her friend was visible and Jubilee took another reassuring step. "That's not your fault. He was doing his job."

Disconnected eyes returned to her, a lazed nod following. "Ah know."

Without warning the torn woman shuffled forward, lingering at the end of the man's bed, drinking in the ghastly white, masking what was once tanned and lively skin. Her hand rose to brace against her lips and Jubilee watched as a single tear ravaged a trail down her cheek. The hand fell back, resting on Scott's leg for a tender moment.

"He's been through so much…" Rogue suddenly spoke again, fingers massaging into the man's blanket covered leg. "He didn't deserve this."

Stunned, it took Jubilee a moment to find her tongue, the moment too long. Lost and confused, she could only stand and watch as her friend stalked the length of the room and vanished within her own private room. The door didn't fully close and through the narrow gap Jubilee could make out Rogue's sullied form along side a gurney, not unlike her own.

She fought the urge to follow, knowing she didn't have the strength to console her friend's pain. Thoughts of Mystique arose, confusing Jubilee as she remembered the display on the plane, remembered the obvious bond between the enemy she had been taught to hate and the friend she had learned to love. If only she was there, the scaly blue woman would be able to ease the torrential sorrow. As if through sheer thought alone, tinges of blue met her peripheral vision. Stunned, Jubilee watched a stoic, unreadable Mystique determinedly swallow the length of the room. Fascination stirred, making the girl give into temptation. Crossing the same distance, she stepped sideways out of view and did what she did best. Eavesdropped…

---

Taking in her daughter's faintly trembling back as it arched over the gurney, hands bracing on the mattress itself, Mystique moved to the hospital table and directed, "Come here."

Releasing her hold on the hospital sheets, Rogue turned and faced her mother. At the question in her eyes Mystique motioned to a fresh pair of scrubs in her hands then to the dirty ones clinging to her ashen skin. Waiting for consent, Mystique placed the clean clothes on the bed beside her daughter and reached for the hem of her torn shirt.

"It seems a little odd ta be exchangin' one pair o' scrubs for another," Rogue drawled despondently before letting out a hiss as Mystique helped her peel the top from her chest. It was tentative work, both equally aware of the tender marks of black and blue along the young woman's abdomen. Lifting her arms above her head with a degree of difficulty, Rogue gave no sign of embarrassment when the sterile infirmary air descended upon her bare breasts.

"Well these have a smart looking little X on them," Mystique offhandedly mused, pointing out the embroidered symbol along the gray fabric.

Rogue chuckled softly at the mundane observation, reaching above her body stiffly as the blue skinned woman pulled the clean shirt down, letting the long fabric fall around her hips. They made quick work of the decaying and stained pants and though it wasn't necessary, Mystique pulled on the drawstring, starting the loops of a pristine bow.

Content that the garments would not drop from the woman's form, Mystique took a step back to admire her daughter. New clothes not withstanding, the visible traces from the last few days were hauntingly blatant. The slit that marred her lush bottom lip had closed over. The bruise on her cheek had become puffy and darker in color, looking angry and undoubtedly painful. Vicious discolored lines peeked through the small v-neck dip of the top, showing more when the woman turned to look at the door.

Mystique followed the gaze, knowing her peers rested somewhere beyond that door. Stretching her hand out, her blue fingers twined with white strands of hair and caressed them back. The mahogany mane wasn't clean but the rain had mercifully removed most of the grime, making the gesture flow with ease.

Rogue's stare returned, uncertainties making it waver.

"Charles is a far better man than most," Mystique murmured suddenly. "I didn't expect him to be so understanding."

The man's words about 'not condoning' but 'appreciating the circumstances' behind Rogue's actions, echoed in her mind, making her smile gravely then nod hesitantly. Bending forward, she leaning heavily on the woman and heaved a sigh. Mystique closed her arms around her gingerly, a faint smile forming on her lips.

"He's arranging a funeral," the mother softly informed. "He wants your help in the finer details but he uh… he'd like do it the day after tomorrow."

The deeply respectful offering forced tears of gratitude to swell within Rogue. It took a second to muster up the will to speak and when she did it was shaky. "Ah'd… Ah'd like that very much."

"He thought you might," Mystique returned, administrating warm comfort through cautious ministration of her hands.

That there was even going to be one gave the young woman a semblance of joy, amplified by the bliss of being soothed by this woman. She didn't realize until that moment how much she'd missed this relationship. The familiarity and tranquility of it managed to starve the tendrils of remorse and anguish until a terrifying thought crudely ripped the moment apart, making her go rigid in Mystique's arms. Sensing it, the older woman reared back, question dangling on her tongue.

"What 'bout yah…" Rogue murmured in such a timid voice it was barely distinguishable.

When Mystique hesitated, Rogue veered away completely, disappointment and hurt ravishing her retreating form. Arms folding around her petite frame, she secluded herself on the complete opposite end of the room, keeping her back facing the other occupant. At the hot and frustrated exhale, Rogue tensed even more, readying herself for a verbal spar.

"Yah aren't stayin', are yah?" Rogue finally spat.

"I can't," Mystique replied.

"How long?"

'How long before you leave me?' is what she'd wanted to ask, 'How long before I'm not your daughter anymore, before I have to watch as you try to kill my friends, my family… me?'

"Tomorrow," Mystique breathed, maintaining her distance.

"Before tha funeral…" she bitterly muttered.

Automatically Mystique became indignant, advancing somewhat and letting out a tense, "Marie-"

"No, don't," Rogue quickly interrupted, tilting her head to glance at the woman. "Ah'm sorry, Ah… Ah understand, Ah get it. Ah don't like it but…" she stammered, turning a little more fully. "Ah was kinda," she stuttered, suckling her bottom lip, mindful of the cut. She felt her body start to crumble as tears threatened to fall and she couldn't stop it. Lips quivering, breaths shooting out in trembling short bursts she finally uttered, "Ah want mah mom, Ah just want mah mom."

The moment the childish plea sounded, her quivers became exaggerated, the tears overflowed, and Mystique's daughter became that little girl she'd found in an alleyway.

"I know, I know," Mystique mumbled, slowly making her way to Rogue's side. "I'm sorry she's not here for you."

"She?" Rogue babbled as her tear-streaked face stared quizzically at the ocean colored woman. "Ah meant yah, Ah meant yah…" she breathed, finding an open shoulder and wrapping her arms around Mystique's waist.

"Oh…" Mystique gasped in surprise, returning the hold, her own tears welling. A moment of silence descended as they simply held each other, knowing it could be the last time.

"Ah'm gonna be okay, Raven" Rogue garbled, suckling on fleeting air, clenching and unclenching her fists into Mystique's sweater. "It's over," she mumbled with a watered down grin, a sob turned laugh flowing from her lips.

Mystique smiled into her hair, content that Rogue's world was slowly forming into something that resembled normalcy.

Peeling herself from blue arms and leaning against the wall behind her, she cried relieved tears. "Ah'd always thought tellin' 'em everythin' would destroy what Ah have here. It's all Ah've ever done… Destroy. Not this time. Ah can't believe they just…" she trailed off, a gurgled giggle bursting out of her warped smile, her palms moving to dwarf the sound. The giggle turned to a sob again and she pressed more firmly into her hands.

"They're good people," Mystique murmured, reaching out to caress Rogue's bare arm.

Shaking her head, she dropped her chin back to Mystique's chest and moaned, "Too good"

"Don't. They've forgiven you, just leave it at that."

"Ah don't deserve it," Rogue lamented. "But Ah'm gonna change that. Ah'm gonna change."

---

Suddenly the haze of confusion lifted a little and the disgust she had harbored at the display of affection between enemy and friend faltered leaving Jubilee feeling all together guilty at having almost intruded on such a powerfully tender and gut wrenching moment. Truth was she had never actually met Mystique, had heard enough stories to forge a fury in her gut but instantly it no longer felt like it was her place to judge. Rogue drank the comfort the blue woman's touch exuded like a lush drunk and it was so natural, so second nature for the two that the stories became hearsay, to be proven by act and not counted upon. If Rogue loved this woman then Jubilee, as her friend, would respect that until given reason otherwise.

Calmly Mystique shifted, her ministrations continuing as her head twisted, her harvest eyes catching a glimpse of Jubilee. The woman whispered something softly to Rogue, who shifted in her arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm interrupting, I…" Jubilee began, readily open to babbling her way back from the door and possibly out of the lab if necessary.

"It's okay Jubes, really," Rogue murmured, disentangled herself from Mystique, a trembling hand finding and delving into her tangled hair.

With all her attention forwarded back to her surrogate daughter, Mystique cupped Rogue's bruise-less cheek in a tender hold. Rogue grasped the hand tightly in her own and forced a strained smile at the gesture.

"Ah'm fine, honest… it's okay," Rogue whispered.

Nodding hesitantly, Mystique brushed her lips along the corner of Rogue's, petting her cheek gingerly before bringing their twined hands down and giving one last squeeze.

"I'll be right outside," she murmured as comfort to Rogue and warning to Jubilee.

Stepping as far sideways as she could, Jubilee allowed Mystique to pass, closing the door soundly behind her. When it clicked into place and Jubilee realized she was alone with Rogue all her determination vanished, a scornful anxiety taking its place. Unable to turn, Jubilee's attention narrowed in on her hand clutching the door handle.

"Do Ah look that bad?" Rogue joked with a watery, distant chuckle as she made her way back to the gurney.

Jubilee's shoulders tightened at the pain in her voice, a pain she was causing. Stiffly she turned, refusing to meet Rogue's eyes though managing a slight chuckle of her own.

"You've looked better," Jubilee returned, fidgeting hands scratching at an imaginary itch on her forearm.

"Gee, thanks."

The attempted banter only managed to intensify Jubilee's discomfort and it showed.

"Ah'm sorry, we're obviously not at tha jokin' stage yet…"

Despite her misgivings Jubilee actually smiled at the offhand comment giving Rogue hope, a valuable commodity if there was any. Taking courage from the ability to make light of the situation, Jubilee's bright eyes tentatively drank in all the damage done to her dear friend until finally gazing into her shadowed eyes.

"So things really went well?" Jubilee questioned.

It made Rogue smile. "Yah were listenin' in weren't yah?"

"It's what I do," Jubilee admitted sheepishly.

"It's okay, Ah don't mind… It, it went well," Rogue conceded, grimacing softly as she eased herself up onto the bed.

When she didn't expand, Jubilee took another decidedly determined step forward, reaching out a timid hand and toying with the stiffly cornered sheet at the foot of the gurney. "Look I… I think I have a right to know."

Faltering, Rogue honed her attention intently on the dirt under her nails. "Yah do," she yielded but once again didn't expand.

"I'm not going to judge you," Jubilee emphatically whispered, taking up the space on Rogue's side.

"Ah know that, its not who yah are, who any o' yah are," Rogue acknowledged tenderly.

"But you still aren't going to tell me?" Jubilee stated, lacking any anger that should have coincided with the statement.

"Yah're mah best friend Jubes, Ah love yah," she murmured with nothing but serious connotation.

Stunned, Jubilee fumbled for a moment before returning the sentiment. "I love ya too."

Motioning for the girl to take a seat on the gurney next to her, Rogue waited for her to get comfortable before turning more fully towards her. "Ah want ta tell yah, Ah do, but… can we just put it off for now? Save it for one o' our late night ice cream raids? It'd just be too much right now and Ah-"

"Later?" she questioned dubiously, earning a nod from her friend. Taking a moment to think it over she agreed with a faint muttering of, "Later is okay."

"Thank-" Rogue started but Jubilee halted her with a light jab of elbow against rib.

"What are friends for?" she beamed, joy finally hitting and making her simply content that Rogue was sitting next to her breathing.

Rogue echoed her joy for a moment before a dour shadow befell her, forged by a guilt all her own. "Ah haven't exactly been tha greatest o' friends, have Ah…"

Instead of immediately denouncing the self-deprecating words, Jubilee took a moment to mull them over, not quite liking the taste but finding virtue in them anyway. "No, I don't suppose you have… But you aren't dead or dying so you have more than enough time to make up for it. I'm thinking," she hummed to herself, feet wagging along side the metal bed.

"A weeks worth of laundry a-a-and," she dragged out the word for effect, "you have to tell me all the tawdry details of your sinfully gorgeous love triangle."

Hoping for laughter, Jubilee turned expectantly to her friend. What she got was a watery, sloppy grin filled with hints of relief, gratitude and regret. It wasn't quite the normal response to her harebrained nature but she took it and savored it.

When the look turned to incredulous shock, mostly at the insinuated love triangle, Jubilee smirked gleefully and mused, "You know you love me."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Rogue pulled the lithe young woman into a gentle hug, murmuring into her hair, "Yah give meh no choice in tha matter."

---

When night came and the insanely bright lights of the subbasement medical facility were dimmed, it left Rogue basking in a lone halogen bulb above her bed, the faint yellow hue casting ghastly shadows on her ashen pallor. When the others turned in for the night, they left her to revel in all the physical and mental aches. When utter exhaustion screamed at her but sleep somehow found a way to remain elusive, it left Rogue wide-eyed and fitful. She tossed and turned between the scratchy hospital blankets, twisting them around limps until she became a prisoner. Restrained from movement, she glared hauntingly at the barely visible ceiling tiles, huffing from the excursion of attempted freedom.

The constriction was almost blissful except for her leg slowly cramping from bending the wrong way, almost comfortable save for the relentless flashes of moments cramming into her ravished mind and forcing sleep from her heavy lids. The moments were various and strangling, each bringing back horrific memories and haggard groans of frustration and anxiety. She just wanted to forget, never wanted to see Scott's face after she kissed him, her 'real' mother's gasps for breath between maniacal cackles of insanity. She flinched and tried to contort when she remembered the scene she made at her prom, feeling self-conscious and stupid. She smothered a growl into her pillow when the memory of her break down in her room rolled through along with visions of her moronic box bouncing from bed to headboard to floor racing across her tightly squeezed lids.

Frustrated tears started to flow when brilliant, startling flashes of all the blood, death, decay and fear she'd felt her entire life resurfaced. Her mind became chaotic, unhinged and the stronger it got, the more constricting the blankets around her became until breath all but vanished and hot liquid devoured her cheeks. In a fretful spasm Rogue forced the cloth from her arms and legs, flailing until the material gave a little. Pitching and rolling she broke free and dived off, coming to a staggering stance alongside the offensive bed, angered eyes seething at the useless contraption.

She never noticed Logan enter her room and close the door behind him nor his amused eyes watching her epic battle with the sheets. Shaking almost violently, chest heaving hoarsely, she didn't hear his chuckle vibrating in the room. The sound dissipated all together when Logan realized she was becoming vastly overwhelmed by a nervous agitation.

The walls were suddenly too close together, her clothes too tight against her body. Grabbing at the v-neck collar and tugging, she stumbled to the door and fumbled with the knob. The metal sphere became slick in her quaking palm and stubbornly refused to work properly. Letting out a simpered cry, she jerked and jolted against the thick barrier of a door until a shadow formed behind her.

She let out a startled cry when Logan's broad hands grasped her wracking shoulders in a firm grip. The hands soon became arms as she was pulled back against a sturdy chest and held tightly.

"Let meh go!" Rogue jerked, unheeded fear surging.

"It's just me, darlin'," Logan soothed, tightening his hold possessively.

All together the struggle drained out of her, embarrassment taking over as she realized how much he must have seen. "Oh gawd," she breathed, clutching at the burly arms and leaning heavily against the mass behind her. She tried to qualm her heaving chest but failed when the man behind her nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "What are yah doin' here?"

"Came to check on you, saw you raging a war with your blankets. You alright?"

Rogue moaned pathetically, swallowing breath after breath. Mortified, she whimpered out, "Ah can't believe yah saw that…"

Logan chuckled gruffly and teased, "It was quite the sight."

"Shut up…" she grunted, another mortified groan flowing freely.

"You gonna tell what the blankets did to you?" he queried with a smug grin.

Shifting in his arms to semi-peer up at him, she effortlessly glared at him while muttering, "Ah'm just mad…"

"Noticed that," Logan quirked, tilting his head to the disarrayed bed.

"At mahself," she reasoned, unable to tame her smile at his customary brow raise. "Ah can't get mah head ta slow down long enough for meh ta sleep. After everythin' it's pathetic Ah know but," Rogue paused, going lax as the words physically drained her. Resting her chin softly against his arms she sighed, "Ah can't get mah brain ta shut off."

"I have a deck of cards in my pocket," he husked.

The absurdity made her giggle and she questioned him on it. "Now why in Sam's hell would yah have a deck o' card in yahr pocket?"

"I took a guess that you would be about as restless as I am," he reasoned, his own smile curling around the flesh of her shoulder. "So how bout it? You, me, a little gin?"

Rogue's nose wrinkled at the idea and she voiced her protest. "Yah always win at gin. How 'bout canasta?"

"You think there's enough room on that little hospital table for that?" he lobbed back.

"Yah have a point there sugah," she conceded, swiveling in his hold and bracing her palms on his chest.

The warmth in his eyes shifted, zeroing in on her bruised cheek with malcontent. She watched him uncertainly as he released an arm from her shoulders to graze the tender flesh, his face contorting in hazardous thoughts. Tears she never wanted to cry boiled to the surface, the struggle to contain them boldly written on her face.

"I wish," he muttered suddenly, fingering the outline of reddish purple.

The desperation in his voice tore the damning tears from her hazel eyes and she shied away from his observant gaze. He didn't prompt her chin back to him just continued to trace the outline of discoloration.

"Ah don't," she muttered, raw fingers toying with plaid squares of cotton. "Ah'd rather feel tha pain, morbid as that sounds. Ah'm… tha Inhibitor stays… Ah can't… it stays." The pressure of a sob wanting to burst made her flustered and she did all she could to contain it.

"You don't have to justify it to me darlin'," Logan soothed.

"Don't Ah?" she gasped. "Keepin' it makes meh a liability an' changes everythin'. Ah don't want ta disappoint anyone an' yet Ah can't bring mahself ta remove it," she stammered rapidly, pulling out of his embrace to pace a small expanse of floor. "There are so many reasons ta take it out an' only one ta keep it, a selfish one at that… Ah'm sorry, Ah shouldn't be dumpin' this on yah. Maybe we can save that game till later?" she rambled off stupidly, moving to the bed's side.

"Marie," Logan hushed forcibly. "If you want to keep the damned thing, keep it. Your body, your choice."

She stilled at the sound of her real name tumbling from his lips before muttering, "Ah know. Ah do. It's just… Ah was created ta be a monster, mah skin is literally poison and it got that man, Kemelman, off in some twisted way. Ah don't want mah skin for what it meant ta him and yet Ah should feel like this thing in mah neck is a leash, like Ah'm in a prison o' mah own body… Ah don't. Ah feel free an' scared at tha same damned time. Ah want this but Ah don't wanna lose tha only home Ah have just ta keep it."

"Who said anything about you leaving?" Logan questioned seriously.

"Logan, with this thing in mah neck Ah'm… useless. An' unless we find a way for meh ta turn it on an' off than Ah'm goin' ta stay useless," she defended.

"There's more to ya than just your skin," Logan gruffly murmured, the tone, the words shocking the swiftly crumbling woman.

She lacked the will to agree and it left her swallowing thick breaths. Rapidly blinking back fat tears, she barely noticed his dark eyes soften or his purposeful advancing. Not even his strong hand on her elbow fully registered as he lured her to him once more. Her face came to press into red and blue plaid cotton and his hairy, muscular arms draped along her waist to hold her tightly. It was rare to get a hug from Logan and even rarer for him to initiate it. It made her tears flow harder, made her chest knot and her throat hiccup as timid hands clung desperately.

The man said nothing, just held her in an almost awkward embrace, thick fingers coercing warm comfort into her trembling back. It made her feel childish and pathetic but she couldn't stop the tears, could only clamp her mouth shut and force her sobs deep into the hollow cavity of her chest.

"It's all just so confusin'," she wept, the words muffling in his chest with her flowing tears.

"I know," he lulled, reestablishing his firm hold and drawing the top of her head under his chin. Rogue continued to cry and Logan let her drench his shirt with her pain. For five minutes they stood in the middle of the private room, Rogue seeking comfort that Logan gave all too readily, until her sobs subsided to feeble sniffs and hiccups. Still he held her close, letting her absorb solace from the intimacy of it. Peeling back, green eyes dancing, cheeks flushed, she extended a pitiful smile of gratitude. At the wet stain where her face had rested she blushed even further.

"Ah'm sorry," she mumbled, tugging on her sleeve and using it to dab the moisture away.

Watching solemnly, Logan's irritation grew when she refused to look at him directly, choosing to concentrate on a stain he cared nothing about. With one hand he clamped down on both her furiously scrubbing ones, using them to tilt her face up.

"It won't come out," she pitifully excused.

"It's just a shirt."

The tangible connection that bound them kept their eyes locked, a thousand non-corporeal messages flowing through the gaze, messages of wants and needs, of sorrows shared and burdens carried, of destitution and desperation, of longing and understanding. The compelling need to run from it lingered, but circumstances refused to let the need run rampant. They saw each other reflecting back; saw something akin to home echoing in brown and green alike.

It used to be sinful, this craving he harbored for her. Her age had always managed to keep him at bay and as he remembered all the times he had run, it hit. Her age wasn't the valid excuse he had thought it to be. He could no longer toss out innocence as reason not to chase after the ungodly sensations she forced out of him. He didn't have that comfortable barrier to fall back on as the undeniable pull started, his body leaning forward without his consent.

"It's a nice shirt," Rogue murmured, voice raw and drawn out, the woman utterly entrapped by the lust seeping from him, lust she had dreamed about countless times. However ill timed it was, she held her breath in anticipation of what the look was going to bestow her, every horror she'd ever encountered drifting to the back of her mind to be rehashed and obsessed over later.

Sudden hesitation filtered along Logan's scruffy jaw and immediate fear roared through her body. He couldn't. She refused to let him. Taking decisive counteractive measures before reality had time to fully take the lust from his gorgeous features, Rogue dived up, lithe fingers curling within disarrayed locks of hair firmly. Eyeing him determinedly, she allotted him all of two seconds to fend her off, two seconds to prevent her from making a fool out of herself. To her absolute relief he hesitated again and she took it as a good sign then blanked all thought from her mind.

In a battle of give and take, she maneuvered herself up on her toes, pulling him down the last inch. Gingerly, as if to test the waters, she grazed her lips along his, making Logan tense up at the stimulation, his eyes widening, but his grip unchanging. Taking it in stride, Rogue repeated the act, sliding a single hand deeper into his unruly hair to imprison him. She was pressing her luck but it didn't matter as she slid her lips over his at a tantalizingly deliberate and slow pace. The barely there nature of it incensed Logan, the feather light feel too light for his liking. Without thought to the consequences, he took control from her, plying her lips open and demandingly seeking out her tongue with his own.

Rogue opened her mouth willingly, frantic to siphon her first real kiss from this man. The effect was tantamount to a chorus of moans echoing from both participants. Instantly Logan's inert form revived itself, pulling her flat against him as he seductively sought to conquer every last corner of her eager mouth. The unfamiliar sensation of his tongue dancing teasingly over the ridged roof created a knot of fluttered heat to pinch at her heart, made her vision blur and her brain practically shut down. Logan was anything but a gentle man, he was passion encapsulated with an ever-constant beast thriving just below the surface. A beast that was now breaking through, soul set on consuming the vixen he held in retaliation for the many nights spent longing and never having.

Tongue's battled vividly, arms clung violently, fingers clawed madly and Rogue's wounds screamed voraciously under the blissful torture. Despite it, she couldn't bring herself to tear away, not even when her lip broke, the slit tearing open, mingling blood into an already salt heavy flavor. The metallic tang managed to shatter one of the last tethers holding Logan down and his clinging hands shifted to groping. Broad fingers burrowed beneath flimsy hospital cloth, coiling around porcelain skin, massaging a deep path up her bruised back. Rogue could only arc into it, gasping and moaning at the combination of pain and pleasure.

The kiss broke in favor of starved lungs, Logan shifting instantly to the strangle-marked skin at the base of Rogue's neck. The violent nip shot unexpected fire down her spine and her lips parted to cry out before she could stifle herself. The suction halted as her yelp resonated off the metal walls of the room. Both stilled, frozen within the desire-laced hold, chest heaving, heats pounding. Prying his eyes open, Logan came face to face with the gruesome visible showing of the terror Rogue had only just been saved from.

She sensed his guilt, sensed him stiffen even more in her arms and reacted without thought. Forming a gentle rhythm through his tangled locks of hair with her hands, she pressed a velvety soft, openmouthed kiss along his neck, pressing against a taut vein as it screamed his strain.

"Don't," she breathed, pleading he not beat himself, demanding he realize her part in this while drenching the tense muscles beneath her lips. "Ah'm okay."

Righting himself, his unreadable stare bore through hers, digging for any sign of pain in her glimmering pools. To counter it she grinned stupidly, which only managed to pull at the stinging wound.

"Owe," she laughed meekly.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's alright. That… that was worth tha pain… an' tha wait," she fumbled out with a blush.

Thumbing the angry colored lines on her neck, he leaned over and placed a possessive but gentle kiss where he'd ravished her. A moan broke through her trembling body and as he straightened, a broad, cocky grin appeared before her. Letting out a half sigh, half giggle, she pressed her forehead into his shoulder and closed her eyes to simply bask in his arms. The tension was still there but held more awkward uncertainty than anything else.

"Wait huh?" Logan jabbed out of thin air, the cocky attitude flowing to his tone and his stance.

The giggle flourished and she pulled back to eye him oddly. "As if yah didn't know," she quipped back with promise in her voice that caused a flash of doubt to darken the color of his eyes.

"I should go," he grunted, pulling back as he spoke the words.

Gripping him harder, Rogue whispered, "Stay."

"Marie," he almost scolded. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She stared at him stupidly as she let the words settle in. Was it a good idea? She wanted to say yes because just thinking of curling back up on that rock hard mattress alone made her stomach twist and knot. Despite the light nature of their previous words, her shoulders still felt weighed down, her heart was still in a vice grip and the tears were still prickling her eyes. The memories were lingering, threatening her continuity and it was more than she could handle. She just wanted to be numbed, to find an escape like she had in his eyes, in his kiss. Just his presence had stunted the overpowering storm in her mind. Was her wanting him to chase away her demons so horrible an idea? It was his promise, to protect her. It had been intended for tangible evils he could sink his claws into but her nightmares felt tangible and real. After all the hell, all the torture, didn't she deserve one night of peace?

The thought suddenly chilled her, forcing an unwavering cold through her worn down body. It made her 'mother's' crazed words surface, the desperate gleam in her shattered vision searing into her memory and refusing to vanish. All that woman had wanted was a moment of calm, to hide from her pain… Suddenly she wanted Logan to leave, wanted it more then she'd wanted him to stay.

"Yahr right," she breathed, choking back the disturbing need to laugh when shock flashed onto the man's face. The girl she used to be would have begged to be dependent on him but she wasn't that girl, would never be that girl again. "Yah should go."

Logan hesitated a moment, bothered by the change in her. She saw it and tossed him a contemplative grin that did nothing to ease him.

"Ah'll be fine, they're just blankets right?" she flippantly mocked.

"Right," he drawled, voice rusty.

TBC

Author's Notes: I cut this in half because well… it was just too damned long.

-Dani-