Disclaimer: Yes, I understand that I don't own ANY of'em. Doesn't stop me from wishing I did, though! Btw, OC's in later chapters are all mine.

Watching. Living. Being: Chapter 4.

2 Years Later

"Hey Angie, table 8 needs more mixers," Sharon called out as she wound her way through the crowd.

"I'm on it," Angela Logan said, leaning over the counter to pick up some cans of mixers. "Any special requests?"

"Only that you sing tonight," Sharon said, laughing.

"Was it Ben again?" Angie asked, grinning, looking back at their bartender,

"Yep," Sharon said, deftly balancing a tray in one hand and wiping the counter with the other. "I swear, if that man wasn't as gay as a daffodil, I'd think he was in love with you!"

"Oh, but we're madly in love," Angie laughed, raising her voice so Ben could here. "His being gay is just a cover up to mask our red hot affair. Right, Ben?"

"Sure thing, baby," Ben joked as he mixed an apple martini for the blonde in front of him. "But now that Sharon knows the truth, we're gonna have to kill her."

Sharon shook her head. "You two are two peas in a pod."

Angie's eyes met Ben's, and in them was the dark knowledge that both knew each other's secret, and that both would take those secrets to the grave. That's truer than you know, Sharon, Angie thought. She gave Ben a wry smile before heading out to deliver her drinks.

"You're on, Angie," Tom, the stage manager, told her. "We've got a few requests today," he went on, handing her a hat full of papers.

"A few?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"You're popular," he grinned. The taking the mike from her, he announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to present to you a special treat you can only get once a night here at Mike's; our very own, the lovely Angela Logan!"

"Thanks, Tom," Angie said, smiling at Tom fondly. "Today is special requests night," she went on, picking up the hat to show the audience. "So I'll try to accommodate y'all. First song," she carefully unravelled the piece of paper, and fought not to roll her eyes, "is 'You Were Meant For Me' by Jewel. Jerry, I know you wanted this!"

Amidst the catcalls and cheers, the guitarist struck up the chord and the crowd fell silent as Angela added her clear voice to the tune.

(AN: Sorry, the song's way too long. Please just imagine it:))

At the end of the song, applause and calls of "Angie!" greeted her. She stood up and took a bow.

"Thanks guys. Now, how about we move to something a little more fun?" She said, unravelling another piece of paper. "'That Don't Impress Me Much' by Shania Twain!" As the band started the beat, Angela looked out at the crowd, grinning. The grin faltered when she saw the blonde at the bar studying her, expression unreadable. A cold finger of foreboding touched her spine.

She doesn't know who I am. No one does, she assured herself. I'm Angela Logan, not Rogue, not Marie. Angela. Angie.

She fixed her smile and began to sing.

At the bar, Carol Danvers stared at the woman on stage, before turning to study Ben. He was definitely the one, but she needed some evidence. Deftly palming the glass he had left on the counter, she paid Ben and walked away. Outside, she made a call. "Yes, general. I've got something that might verify his identity." She paused and nodded. "Yes, I'm sending it to the lab myself. Ms Marvel out."

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"Angie," Ben said, coming up behind her. "What happened up there?"

"That blonde at the bar," Angie said, shaking her head, opening the door that led to their apartment. "Something about her…" She paused. "I think she knows who I am."

"Angie," Ben said patiently, pulling her towards her room. "You look nothing like Rogue or Marie. She was a brunette with white streaks, too much dark make-up and has a Southern accent. You're nothing like her. Look at you! " He turned her towards the mirror that hung above her dresser. A different person looked back at her. Gone was Goth, depressed Rogue. Instead, a stranger looked back at her. Her raven black hair was cut in a short sassy do and accented the blue of her eyes. The whole set of her face was different. While Rogue had on a constantly depressed expression, a testament to how hard her life had been, Angela's face was softer, reflecting the happy childhood Angela had had back in Boston. She knew that if any of her old friends had seen her, they would never have recognised her.

As usual, looking at her new reflection, Angela felt calm. "You're right, Ben," she said, gloved hand reaching to touch the one on her shoulder. "I guess she wasn't looking for me."

Still, she couldn't shake of the nagging feeling that that woman hadn't just wandered in the bar for a drink. She was after something, or someone.

Back at the lab, Carol Danvers grinned at the results. "Yes," she exclaimed happily. "We've got him!"