Moving On - Chapter 19 b
By Gimpy
Clutching a small bundle of clothes to her chest, Jubilee made her way through the subbasement corridors towards medical. Tapping a panel, the doors opened and she was immediately confronted with the sight of her best friend poised on the edge of Scott's bed. Glancing at the man, she noted he was sleeping again, alleviating the fear of having interrupted something private.
"I brought the clothes you wanted," she said, though their presence in her arms deemed it unnecessary.
Rogue looked up from his slumbering face and smiled. "Thanks."
"I see he's still asleep," she mused, moving to the end of his bed and gingerly putting the clothes down.
"Yeah," Rogue murmured, turning back to him "He was awake earlier but… Ah couldn't bring mahself ta leave mah room."
It was a timid admission, one of weakness that made Jubilee reach out and clasp her barren arm. Rogue peered down at the bold move oddly and quickly Jubilee jerked her hand back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think," she babbled. "You're only just getting used to it, the last thing you need is everyone grabbing at you."
Instead of the anger Jubilee expected, Rogue grinned unabashedly. "Yahr right, it's still a little odd," she reflected. "But yah were never afraid ta touch meh before, so don't be now okay? Ah don't mind when yah do it. Course if 'everyone' starts doin' it…" she trailed off, a shudder rolling through her at the thought.
"So I'm special?" Jubilee gleamed, honing in on that part of Rogue's explanation.
Letting out an exasperated laugh, Rogue shook her head and returned her attention to the sleeping man. Dread furrowed in her, visually showing on her face, earning her another brush of skin on skin from Jubilee.
"Storm told him this mornin'," Rogue brooded, forgetting the other girl didn't know what he had been told. "Ah couldn't face him after that…"
"The others forgave you, Rogue," Jubilee started.
"He's a righteous man, Jubes," Rogue interrupted. "Has a strong sense o' right an' wrong an' trust meh Ah've done more wrong than right… especially ta him."
She sounded so morose and condemning that Jubilee was at a loss for words, only just restraining the want to probe for details. Rogue took the silence amicably continuing to run a hand along the back of Scott's softly. Checking her watch, Jubilee picked up the clothes and forced them into her friend's vision.
"The Jet's leaving in fifteen," she said in answer to Rogue's questioning eyes.
Sighing resolutely, Rogue took the offered bundle, releasing her hold on the man. Standing, she retreated to her room, leaving Jubilee to wait patiently. The Rogue that emerged five minutes later seemed more human than the one that had gone in. Simple dark jeans and a faded blue tee replaced the reminiscent scrubs, a nondescript pattern lacing the blue fabric yet it shifted her entire aura. It was obvious she'd showered that morning, her hair back to its normal untamable waves. Her skin was pink again, despite the bruising, and her eyes weren't as dark as they had been. The amount of uncovered skin wasn't vulgar in nature, just her arms and neck but the lack of gloves and a scarf almost made Jubilee want to cry.
Rogue noticed solemnly, a sad smile drawing the corner of her lips upward.
"It's just so…" Jubilee lost her voice and simply gawked.
"Yeah…" Rogue returned dejectedly, her mind traveling to the how's and why's.
The despondence was suffocating but again Jubilee suppressed her need to question. Checking her watch again she reached out for her friend's hand. "Come on, you've got less then ten."
Rogue took the offer, allowing the girl to lead her out into the hall and down towards the hangar bay. Once outside the impending doors she tugged on Jubilee's hand, forcing the girl back. Deep brown eyes questioned her silently before realization rendered itself. With a quick squeeze the girl released her, murmuring about finding her up in the recreation room if she needed her before walking off. Rogue reluctantly let her go and eyed the door for a moment before tapping a shaking finger on the wall panel.
When the doors slid open the soft hum of the Blackbird's engines assaulted her ears. Surveying the large room she noticed Storm idly standing at the feet of the impressive shimmering bird conversing tensely with Mystique. The cerulean woman's back was to her but Storm caught sight quickly and pointed her out. Rogue gingerly rounded the platform, taking to the stairs as the weather goddess ended the uneasy conversation. Slowly the two women connected eyes and advanced on each other.
A wide, comforting grin befell her mother's face as her harvest eye drank in the new clothes.
"You're looking half decent," Mystique quipped once she was within hearing distance.
"That was tha idea," Rogue returned with less humor in her tone.
With only a foot separating them, silence took over, neither certain where to start. Shuffling from foot to foot, Rogue resisted the pricks as they assaulted her eyes, titling her head to gaze at the inert floor. A blue hand bridged along her vision and gently coerced her downtrodden face back up.
Mystique opened her mouth to console but Rogue quickly stemmed the flow.
"Don't," she breathed, her face burning with unshakable tears. "No lies."
The hand on her cheek evaporated as Mystique absorbed her words, finally consenting freely. "I think I can do that."
"Good… Cause next time we meet…" She tried to finish but floundered. The word weren't honestly needed because both women knew the ramifications of the moment.
"I'll still love you," Mystique affirmed in a simpering voice.
It drove a salt droplet down Rogue's cheek that was briskly removed with a trembling hand. "Meh too… Ah hate that it has ta be this way," she gasped suddenly, avoiding Mystique when she moved to hold her. "No," she ordered firmly, sheathing her waist in her arms like she desperately wished she could let Mystique do.
"Marie," the older woman droned pleadingly.
Shaking her head emphatically, Rogue placed another foot of distance between them. "Ah can't do this if yahr touchin' meh," she explained severely.
Understanding seeped onto Mystique's scaled features and she added her own foot of distance. Silence befell them again until Mystique broke it. "I'm sorry I won't be here for tomorrow…"
"Don't worry 'bout it." Rogue meant it; she didn't want Mystique to fret over it because she understood why she had to go.
"Right… They're, uh, taking me to my car, apparently its still back at that motel."
"Ah kinda figured it would be. Middle o' nowhere like that, its not likely ta get stolen. What 'bout Logan's truck?" she asked, voice cold.
"I'm having it towed to the other side of town right now. Can't very well have your people picking it up outside my place," Mystique reasoned logically.
"Smart."
"I thought so."
"An' tha inhibitor?" Rogue questioned, motioning to Mystique's neck.
"I know someone," Mystique vaguely explained. "I can forward any information your way… if you want."
"Sure."
Absolute quiet pressed on them again, tearing another reserved droplet from Rogue's unheeding eyes. A hesitant cough shattered the lull, both women turning to find Storm standing at the end of the Blackbird's ramp.
"It's time," the woman whispered ruefully, moving back up the ramp.
Rogue's gaze fell to the floor again, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip to keep from sobbing outright. Mystique watched the sad display, forcibly holding back instead of initiating what would be a heart-shattering embrace. Rogue held her breath in her chest, fighting the building of pressure in both her heart and her lungs.
"Go," she pleaded, "just go."
The blue woman's arm lifted slightly, shaking from the restraint she placed on it. Drawing her fingers into a tight fist, Mystique swallowed a heady lump and immutably turned away from her daughter. Rogue held steadfast, feet rooted in the ground until Mystique stopped at the base of the sloping ramp. Chancing the destruction it could cause, Rogue looked up, swimming green eyes meeting equally distraught yellow. A sudden calm washed over her, a deep breath trickling into her body as a genteel smile washed away the creases around her mouth and eyes.
Bending her arm, Rogue waved discreetly, waiting for it to be returned before turning purposefully. No matter what the future brought for her and Mystique, Rogue took solace in the fact that they loved each other. That it wasn't enough to bridge the ideological gap did nothing to falter her content grin. Stopping before the hangar bay doors, she sighed softly, smoothing her tears into her skin then commanding the door open, the jet's ramp sliding up and into the bird as the door closed.
----
The sound of heavy machinery reached Rogue's dulled ears, breaking past the stupor that had taken her over. Gripping her arms tightly, she toyed against the wool fabric of her coat, urging it closed against the chilling winds. Silent tears streaked her cold cheeks as she peered down the deep unearthed hole. Brown, glossy wood reflected in her forest eyes, her hand squeezing on the rose in her hand. Thorns pricked her glove-less skin and she relished the physical pain. Teetering on the edge of the six-foot drop, she whispered at silent prayer for Mary Ann D'Ancanto, not knowing if it was her real name despite it being engraved on her marker.
The ceremony had barely been that, just a few simple words told by Kurt, the only religious man she knew. He had been sweet, coming to her to ask questioned about 'Mary Ann' and he had managed to portray her kindly, in spite of the horror she had become. It really had been nice. Jubilee had held her hand throughout it, squeezing assurance in the hold and she had thanked her needlessly for it. For her own purposes Rogue had only allowed those present at the complex to attend, all except for Scott, the man still recuperating in medical. The woman deemed her first mother deserved respect and only those who understood her nightmare could give it. Or so was Rogue's state of mind.
A small smile lingered as she remembered the professor's kind words about the woman and the strength she'd bestowed to her brave daughter. The man was a consummate believer in silver linings. The only silver lining Rogue saw in this moment was that 'Mary Ann' had finally found peace, no matter how she got there, no matter how guilty it made Rogue, she had found her peace.
The machinery sound intensified and she glanced up from the vast hole. A large yellow contraption was headed her way and she realized with an exasperated breath that the ceremony had ended hours ago, that she had been standing there crying muted tears for hours. It was time to bury the dead. Blinking back tears, she raised her arm, letting it linger over the casket and its shadows. Slowly she loosened her hold on the wilting rose, watching faithfully as it landed on the glossy brown box. Pulling her hand back to her chest, she started towards the mansion, ignoring the unearthly sound of the machine getting ready to blanket her mother in dirt.
As she neared Storm's garden and the doors it harbored, she caught sight of a lone figure leaning against the arboretum, recognition darkening her already sour features. She'd meant to talk to him, to explain herself and beg for his forgiveness. Honestly she had. The chance has been there over the past two days. The courage to take advantage of it was fleeting. That moment, with her still reeling from the ceremony, did not feel right. Watching Scott lean against the thin wooden trellis, arm coated in a thick white brace, she veered towards her motherly instincts and grabbed his good arm by his coat.
"Yah are not supposed ta be outta bed," she scolded, attempting to drag him towards the door. He resisted the move and it forced her to stop, fearing she'd further an injury she already felt responsible for.
"You never visited," he countered, his voice deep and unyielding.
"Ah did too," she bit back, tugging on his arm to urge him. Again he refused and she stepped back, arms crossing across her chest as she added, "Yah just weren't awake."
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for it," Scott murmured, gesturing to the world behind her, a world she was trying desperately to leave.
"Don't worry 'bout it," she murmured, trying to ignore the nervousness egging her to fidget. She didn't fault him and not just because of his injury. He looked so pale, especially in the dimness of the cloudy summer day. Again she probed him to go back inside and again he refused, choosing to simply stand and look at her. Slowly it dawned that he hadn't actually seen her since the kiss. When she'd gotten on the jet, he'd been unconscious and since then she'd been unwilling to see him. It made her guilt strengthen. He had spent so long worrying about her and to go so long without being able to see for himself that she was okay… She realized that was why he was here, now. He needed visual proof, not just vocal from Storm.
"I'm sorry." His voice flowed freely but the words contracted around her like a vice and made her physically stumble, completely threw off her equilibrium.
She had not expected that from him. From her own two lips, yes, but not from him. "What… what could yah possible have ta be sorry for?"
His jaw knitted, new wrinkles devouring the contours of his mouth, puckering the faint spray of hair he'd let grow over the past few days. "I doubted you."
That dumbfounded her even further, causing a coarse scoff from her gaping mouth. "With everthin' that was goin' on how could yah not have?" she stammered. "That, that's nothin' ta be sorry for."
"Logan didn't," he countered unfairly, making her scoff harder.
"Ah doubt that."
"He didn't. He faltered a little but he never lost faith. He knows you better than I do, could see past the things you 'might' have done to why you did them," he breathed calmly, persistently. "He loves you."
Loved her? Stunned into silence, mind running wildly around what it was he was telling her she barely heard his own timid admission.
"I love you too…"
"Scott please," she begged, resolutely certain she couldn't take this. Not after all she'd done to betray him, to hurt him. It was too much.
"I do," he persisted. "But I'm not ready. I realized that when you kissed me and… I just let it happen."
As he spoke she returned to that day in the subbasement, to the need reverberating from his features. The vision, like every other, ripped at her, tore at her. She didn't run from him though. Wanted to. Wanted to with every fiber of her being but she could see that same need on his face now. He needed to say this so she let him, let him torture her with it.
"I wanted it so much," he breathed. "I wanted the intimacy you were offering so much that I let it cloud my judgement."
She wanted to claim her fault because it was hers to claim. She'd spent enough sleepless nights consoling him to realize his weaknesses. Physical touch was one, echoed when he'd clutch at her as he cried, spoke of when still half dazed by the nightmares. She'd known it and she'd used it to get what she'd wanted.
"I…" he murmured, voice suddenly closer to her ear.
Freezing at his proximity, she forced herself to look up at his face mere inches from hers, forced herself to stare into ruby quarts as it drowned out his intent.
"I need time but," he reasoned, free hand knitting along the wool fabric on her shoulder and making her want to cry. "I'm still your friend, I always will be… I just need time to figure some things out, to process."
He continued to stare down at her, stare through her and her strength crumbled block by agonizing block. When tears started to flow, his grip on her jacket covered arm, tightened and the only words she could offer him tumbled out. "Ah don't deserve it. Any o' it. Ah don't. Ah used yah, Ah new yah'd let me kiss yah an' Ah used yah. Ah've lied ta yah, betrayed yah. All yah ever wanted was honesty an' Ah couldn't give yah that. Ah don't deserve yahr forgiveness."
His gut instinct was to pull her close, to hold her tight and she revolted, pushed back unheeding of his wound.
"An' Ah don't deserve yahr comfort!" she cried out, backpedaling as far as she could before a concrete bench stalled her, forced her knees to bend and she fell unceremoniously onto the cold hard seat. The tumble made her laugh, which only served to make her cry. "Gawd, Ah don't deserve any o' yah," she sobbed, burrowing her face into her hands. "Ah am sorry, Ah swear Ah am."
"I know that," Scott vigorously responded. "We all do."
Rogue could only shake her head violently, refusing to hear the words.
"Marie, no one's perfect," he continued, moving to take a seat next to her, sighing when she slide further away from him and hunched deeper into her hands. "We've all made mistakes, you've just… made a few more… really… really big ones." He tried not to sound comical but it came out that way and Rogue couldn't help but snort into her hands.
"Add a few more 'really's an' than yah might be close," she droned morosely. Taking a deep breath and resting her elbows on her knees, she tried to collect herself.
"Just to be on the safe side?" he joked and there was no stopping the giggle as it surged from her trembling torso.
"Can never be too safe," she added with a snicker, making him laugh with her. "Is it right ta be makin' jokes like this?"
"Probably not." The man next to her mused, shifting his sling covered arm uncomfortably. "Does it help?"
"Yeah, it does," she said seriously, feeling a little weight lift.
"Then I guess it's okay."
She took his approval to heart, breathing deeply to calm herself before turning to look at him. "We're still friends right?"
"Always," he answered with a gentle smile. "Let's just not talk about the uh… kiss. For our own sanity."
"Ah think Ah can do that."
"Good," Scott beamed. "Now lets go inside. Despite the beautiful weather," he sarcastically mocked, staring up at the dreary cloud covered sky. "I'm starting to rethink this whole leaving medical thing."
"Let's," Rogue agreed and she stood, turning to help him. When he came to a full stance she leaned in and hugged him softly, relishing when his only good arm found the hollow of her back and pulled her close. This was another relationship that, although changed, had somehow managed to survive her. It gave her hope, made her believe in a destiny that didn't involve destruction and pain.
The two spent the rest of the day together down in medical doing nothing more than talk. The subject was never fixed and both were more than content to steer clear of the harder recent events. That didn't stop Rogue from talking about her childhood and the good memories she could remember. She even managed a few comical stories from her time living on the streets. Neither concentrated too hard on the darker aspects of what she was telling him, Scott happy simply to be finally getting to know, know her, something he'd wanted all along. By midnight Hank had been by several times with mild demands to let Scott rest, none of which was heeded until exhaustion started to mark the man's face, slur the man's words and ultimately make him look doped up on drugs.
Rogue stayed by his side until he gave into the sleep tugging at him and then waited a moment longer. The tranquility that overtook him was too gracious a sight that it took immeasurable amounts of strength to pull away. Settling to simply etch the image in her mind as a joyful contrast to all her heavier, crueler ones, she finally left, thankful that Hank had deemed her fit to sleep in her own room. As much as she knew sleep would be implausible, the act of staying in medical was too harrowing.
The elevator doors parted and the insanely bright lights she'd grown accustomed to in the subbasement were switched with nightfall and random slivers of moonlight peaking through tall standing windows. It dazed her and continued to until the elevator closed behind her, cutting off the offensive brightness. When the haze lifted, warm wood paneling, soft lush carpet and an utter sense of being home washed over her. Earlier, before the funeral, there had been too many people, too much going on for her to let it sink in but now, after staring at dark, cold concrete marred in blood and feeling so cold and lost, just being in the mansion hallway was stifling. It was like she was surrounded by comfort, could almost feel it reaching out to her. It formed a small, sad little smile and made hot, salty tears rush to her eyes.
She was home. Finally and truthfully home. She had come so close to loosing all this, to never seeing its familiarity again and it smothered her. Tendrils of overly giddy laughs raged through her and she tucked her clasped hands beneath her chin, pressing her arms to her chest to keep her heart from bursting through. It just felt too good and she closed her eyes to it, concentrating on the sound of the old house settling in the quiet, honing on the wood smell in the air that would always make her feel safe.
Resigning to the fact that she couldn't stand there all night, she dropped her arms, opened her eyes and decidedly strolled through the halls. As she passed the foyer she gave a little shudder, remembering the package that had showed up there and the frantic chase she had given Logan as she'd made her 'escape.' Instead of letting it drown her, she took it in, accepted her mistakes as her own and moved past the immense doors. She paused at the steps, wondering if she wanted to spend the night awake in bed or if she wanted to situate herself with the rest of the mansion again.
With a faint grin, she moved off from the stairwell, heading down towards the kitchen. Her stomach growled as she neared it but she ignored it. She could eat on her way back, her legs were too cramped to sit down for too long, her body too sore to tolerate it at the moment. As she eased down the hall once more, using rays of moonlight as her guide, a cold wash of wind caressed her gloriously bare skin. Shivering, she headed in its direction, intent on stemming the wind's flow.
What she discovered was two open doors that led out onto one of the many stone balconies. Using her arms for warmth, she edged closer, cursing who ever had left it open. Huddled before the threshold, she tried to anchor herself out to grab a doorknob, unwilling to touch the cool rock with her bare feet. A scent reached her nose as her feet strained to push her out, a scent she knew all to well. Glancing up from the brass circle she froze all together. Off to the side, hip pressed into the stone railing, jacket-clad arms draped over a mass of chest, hand wielding a lit cigar between curling lips, was Logan. His lips were curling because he'd been watching her moronically bending to reach the door and she blushed deeply. She cursed him and his damned ability to catch her doing goofy things as she gingerly leaned back into the doors' threshold.
"This is turning into a habit, darlin'." Logan's husky voice floated through the air in tendrils, mimicking the scent of his cigar and she shivered not from the cold.
"So it seems." Her own voice shook and she tried not to blush further. When he made no move to further the conversation she glanced down at the cold rock then back to him. Taking a deep breath, she took a tentative step out, using only the balls of her feet to minimize contact as best she could.
Moving to the rail beside him, she lay her hands against the cold rock, another shiver traveling down her spine. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed he was watching her with amusement but he was still refusing to talk. Sighing, she leaned over the edge of the rail, letting her eyes scour the vast yard as she listlessly drawled, "Ah hope Ah'm not intrudin'."
"Nope."
Clear, concise, straight to the point and infuriating. She second guessed coming out there, tripled guessed going back in but she could feel his eyes on her, staring at her openly and it made her stay. They needed to resolve what had happened the other night no matter how awkward it was going to be.
"Good," she finally managed, veering back from the balcony's edge and turning around. "So," she hushed, pressing her back into the rail and eyeing him poignantly. "Couldn't sleep?"
The man merely shrugged, thumb and forefinger removing the cigar from his lips so he could blow out a sturdy cloud of smoke. He chose silence and she could do nothing to hinder that, arms finding their rightful place around her waist as she settled into the hush. There were a lot of things that needed mulling over and for the first time she didn't mind his lack of words.
He had kissed her back. That was for certain. She distinctively remembered his tongue doing sinful things to her mouth that almost managed to chase the cold away. The question was did it mean anything to him or was he just responding to being seduced? Had she seduced him? It wasn't really her forte. She honestly couldn't say whether she had.
So maybe the better question was did she want it to happen again? Her first instinct was to answer yes. Her gut was telling her a whole other story. Peeking sideways at him, watching him get lost in thoughts he'd never share with her, she asked herself the harder questions. Is now the right time to start something? In the state she was in, could she handle it? It never once crossed her mind that maybe he didn't want to. She knew him better than he knew himself, and despite his ability to shock her sometimes, confound her other times, she knew he wanted her. Whether he ran from that need or not was something else entirely. So no, his wanting her was not in question. Staying to deal with it was a big maybe.
This brought her back to the real question she didn't want to answer. She barely knew herself, had spent so long being someone else that she'd forgotten. Add to that what she'd only just learned two days ago and it culminated in a confused, wrought, twenty year old woman with no sense of direction and an even murkier sense of reality. That self-confession irked her, made her bite her lip to stem another bought of tears. She'd done that too much the last few days and doubted she was done but the least she could do was save it for when she was alone. Still, she wondered if she'd made a big mistake in kissing him, questioned her reasons behind doing it.
She loved him. That was an absolute that would never change. Never.
It hit then, the answer, and it did it almost physically, forcing a whoosh of air from lungs she hadn't realized she'd been starving.
"What?"
Jumping from the rail at his sudden voice and peering up at him with wide, watery eyes, she lost her tongue somewhere in the back of her throat. It made him smirk, one of his chastising but gorgeous smirks.
"Ah," she stammered, nearly swallowing her uncooperative tongue in the process. Huffing at her absurdity, she closed her eyes and breathed another deep, satiating breaths. Did she tell him? Peering up at his inquisitive face she realized that she couldn't. The words were there, that wasn't the problem. It just didn't seem necessary. He always understood her without words; it was what made him easier to deal with and at the same time harder because he instinctively knew what you didn't want him to. She only hoped her expression, her scent, her stance, whatever it was that clued him in, was radiating at high volume to the fact that she wasn't ready for the intensity he'd promised in his kiss. That she wanted him as a friend, her best friend until she could suss out her life, uncover the hidden path before her and make choices along that path freely without constantly feeling guilty and uncertain. She tried to convey it in her eyes, large and bountiful under the moonlight gazing up into his dark, barely readable ones.
For the longest second in her life he just held it, cigar forgotten in his loose grip. She didn't bother trying to discern his thoughts, to gauge what words he might use, what actions he might take. She just prayed he'd understand and take all that she could offer with the hope of more. The tense moment slowly eased as an unexpected arm reached out to her. She eyed it oddly for a moment, watching as his fingers twitched for her hand. Glancing back up into his dark eyes, she nearly choked on what she saw.
With a smile all her own, she took the hand, letting the man pull her until she was pinned between him and the thick stone guardrail. There was nothing sexual about it and she reveled in the comfort that brought. His arm slipped around her waist and she tucked her head under his chin. They didn't cling, they didn't clutch, just rested in contented silence as he drew on his cigar and she drew on his friendship.
The moment lasted for nearly ten minutes as the large cigar slowly burned and the crisp night air found every last shred of exposed skin to nip at. Finally Logan's patience with her shivering and her own patience with the cold faltered. Intently, she listened as his chest rumbled with a throat-clearing cough before his voice followed.
"Get your ass inside before you catch a cold," he gruffly ordered her, the words oddly tender at the same time as he removed his arm and pushed her towards the door.
She took one step before turning, smiling timidly and whispering, "Thanks, for yah know everythin'."
His insistent brow rose impishly and the left side of his lips curved halfway. He didn't say you're welcome and she didn't expect him to. Shaking her head softly at him with nothing but amusement, she headed inside, calling over her shoulder a mocking demand that he close the doors when he finally decides to come back in. The half chuckle she got for her efforts left her smiling all the way down the long hall.
As she neared the corner that would lead her to the foyer and the stairs, she lost herself in the content thought of the man she'd left behind. She didn't notice the equally mindless shadow until they collided. Two sets of slender arms reached out quickly, righting the other in a dance of who had the most balance. Neither noticed their faint but girly shrieks but when they realized whom the other was laughter soon followed.
"Jubes!" Rogue squealed, a grin bursting onto her face.
"Rogue!" Jubilee mocked, laughter glowing in her eyes.
"Yah scared meh half ta death!"
"Ditto chica!"
"What are yah doin' outta bed?" Rogue finally had the rationale to ask as she found her own balanced and released her friend.
"I couldn't sleep, you?" Jubilee asked back.
"Same," she drawled, smile still lingering as she took in her friends disheveled hair from an obviously restless attempt at sleeping. Taking in a few calming breaths, she glanced down the hall behind her. When she turned around Jubilee held the same conspiring grin as her own. "Come on," Rogue prodded, offering her arm to the girl who took it greedily.
Together they made their way to the kitchen and swiftly fell into a rhythm all their own. While Jubilee went for the bowls and spoons, Rogue opened the freezer and retrieved the cold dessert.
"So," Rogue started, putting the container on the counter and jumping up. "Yah remember how Ah said Ah was fifteen when mah mutation kicked in?"
Jubilee followed her onto the counter top, passing a single spoon and watching hungrily as Rogue peeled the lid off the ice cream. "Sixteen," she responded, correcting Rogue's mistake.
"Right, well… Ah lied…"
The End
Author's Notes: Now it's done! Again, thank you to everyone who's reviewed or simply read. It wasn't easy to wait but I hope it's worth while.
