Summary: A single act brings hurt and grief.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men

Rating: T

BETRAYAL

Chapter10

Westchester, New York: Present Time

"So?"

"So…what?" Rogue retorted as she bounded down the stairs, arms laden with a basket of dirty clothes, making a sharp right to the elevator that would lead to the basement, and the washing machine.

"So…what…Rogue?" Jubilee cried testily, marching in avid steps behind her friend.

Since returning to the mansion, Rogue had said nothing about her little adventure with their teacher. Not that it was a romantic escapade. The man, literally, had to be wheeled out of the household. But the very idea of being alone with a cute guy on a beautiful island, such as Hawaii, sparked her imagination to overload. And wouldn't it put a permanent crease in Ms. Grey's plans to reconcile with her fiancé, if something did occur between Rogue and Mr. Summers.

"What happened in Hawaii?"

"Besides Mr. Summers being bed ridden for a week," the southerner yelled over her shoulder. "Nothing."

"You're lying."

Rogue turned sharply in her sandals, shifting the heavy bulk of clothes, she glared at Jubilee. "Why would I be lying?"

"Because I caught that little slip of the tongue, Rogue," the Asian remarked. "Since when are the two of you, like, on a first name basis?"

Looking away, Rogue exhaled, while desperately trying to conceal the hint of color rising in her cheeks. "We're just friends Jubes."

"Ah ha!" Jubilee squealed in delight, arching a brow deviously. "So, something did happen."

"Oh you're impossible." Rogue cried, lifting a hand in the air, turning to continue to the elevator. Pushing a button, the door slid open and she stepped inside, and frowned when Jubilee chose to join her. "I don't think there's room enough for the two of us."

"What do you mean by that?" Jubilee asked completely clueless.

"Never mind," Rogue muttered and pressed the button for the basement. Meanwhile, Jubilee jabbered on like a monkey in a tree, probing her with questions, occasionally dishing out the latest gossip, and relating on the incident between her in Ms. Grey.

"Like, god, it's not my fault you and Mr. Summers are having problems," she said as they walked down the long metallic blue hallway towards the washroom. "You don't have to take it out on us kids."

"Did the Professor take care of it?"

Jubilee nodded. "He sure did…or I was going to." As she lifted her hands they sparked and flashed as a bright electrical current emanated from her fingers.

"I bet you would," Rogue said, a sly grin on her face, while tossing heaps of clothes into the washing machine. Adding liquid detergent and fabric softener, she set the machine, closed the lid and climbed onto it.

"Planning on moving back in," Jubilee asked after a bit. "Kitty and I miss you."

Rogue's demeanor soured. She'd briefly forgotten Kitty and Bobby had been sleeping around and was filled with a sick sense. She shoved off the machine and walked about the room. "I think I'd stay by the lake a little while longer."

Jubilee cocked her head curiously. "Why? Everyone knows you can touch now, there's nothing to fear…"

"Fear?" Rogue gave her a sharp look. "Fear!"

Jubilee went pale and shook her hands in defense. "I didn't mean to make it sound like…"

"Forget it. I've always known I was an outcast even among friends." She rubbed her hands together, still covered in her gloves, still scared to take them off. She couldn't understand why? Perhaps it's because she was used to them. In fact, most of the time, she couldn't sleep unless she was wearing grandma's nightgown.

A soft tap at the door, she whirled around upon sight of Scott pushing his head through the door. He looked terrible. A five o'clock shadow graced his face and his hair was disheveled. Rogue's heart went out to him. Obviously, he was suffering a great deal in his break up from Jean.

"The Professor told me I would find you here." He stole a glance to Jubilee before he continued. "He received a fax from Dr. MacTaggert. I think it's the results of your blood work, maybe she found an answer to why you can now touch people."

"Oh, okay," she swallowed, nervously and dumped the rest of her clothes back in the basket. She gazed at Scott. His faced was concealed in a hooded expression that made her want to hold him. She reeled back in shock.

Hold him?

No. That couldn't be right. Scott was her teacher, a friend. He was heartbroken after the woman who claimed to love him till the end of time, had tossed his heart into a blender. Quietly, she tailed Scott down the hall to the elevator. It was awkward, due to the fact they hadn't spoken to one another since they'd got back to the mansion. Rogue understood. He needed space, time to reacquire his feelings, and not be overrun with a false sympathy she claimed to have.

The truth was she hated Jean for how badly she'd hurt him. Scott was the sweetest guy she'd ever known, a bit uptight, but nice nonetheless. "So," she cleared her throat, twisting a white strand of hair about her finger. "What do…you, uh, make of the results?"

"Nothing bad I hope," Scott replied stiffly.

"Me too," Rogue exhaled.

"Rogue."

She rotated herself slowly at his softly spoken voice, lifting her head to see him peering down at her. By then he'd removed his visors and was staring at her with large, magnificent, blue eyes. "I see," she let out a small laugh. "You're still wearing your shades."

"And you, you're opera gloves," he said skimming his fingers along the silk fabric.

She shuddered inwardly, lowering her head, confused by the sensation that was tickling her stomach. "I can't seem to rid myself of them," she said clasping her hands together.

"Me neither," Scott exhaled. "I can't sleep at night unless I was wearing them. Last night they slipped off my face when I rolled over and I damn near had a heart attack."

Rogue giggled. "I'm glad you're sleeping at all."

Scott frowned, scratching the side of his face. "Yeah…me too."

She reached to cup his face. "How are you holding up?"

"You want the truth?" he asked rather dryly.

"Yeah," she answered.

He looked away, biting his lip to fight the pain rising in his throat. "I'm dying here Rogue."

Distraught, she went to him, flinging her arms about his shoulders; she pulled him into a hug. She caught her breath when she felt Scott wrap his arms about her waist and draw her close. Their bodies were pinned so close to each other Rogue was afraid to breathe. She could feel Scott's warm breath on the nape of her neck and goose bumps pimpled her skin.

At the sound of the elevator chime, they drew apart, but not fast enough for Jean not to catch them in close proximity. Jean's eyes flashed darkly by the way Rogue's skin looked hot and bothered. Mouth twisting, she glared at Scott. He barely looked at her.

"What's all this…Scott…" she gasped in surprise. "You're eyes."

His face became like granite as his eyes turned cold. He'd forgotten to put on his shades once he was in public. "One of the many pleasures we could have shared if you'd remain faithful."

"You mean you could see all this time," she fought back.

"No," he scoffed. "Not all the time, but it is a fighting metaphor. I was once blind now I can see. Now if you will excuse us," he took Rogue's hand and dragged her out the elevator. He hoped she would forgive his behavior, but he wasn't going to stand there and allow Jean to degrade their friendship.

"Ororo?"

After several knocks at the door, Hank had no choice but to enter into the weather goddess bedchamber. He was troubled because Ororo hardly said a word to him since the night they returned from a conference in Washington D.C. That was the week the Professor suffered a terrible cold, and was unable to witness the summit in the Capital Building, regarding the Mutant Registration Act once again. He'd sent Storm as his proxy and with it the hope humanity wasn't far from reasoning and understanding as his old friend believed.

He shifted a tray loaded with food and glanced around. He found her curled in a fetal position on the bed, her white hair a startling contrast to the mauve pillowcases. He took a step, unsure she was awake, till she shifted her head, and looked straight at him.

"Hank? What are you…"

He presented the tray of food and smiled. "I thought you might be hungry," he said. "I haven't seen you downstairs these last days, I thought I bring you something."

"Thank you," she lowered eyes, sitting up in the bed. "But I'm not really hungry."

"But you should eat," he said and placed it before her. "You can't battle depression on an empty stomach."

Ororo keened her eyes on him. "I'm not depressed. I'm angry."

"I understand," Hank said, picking up the tray and setting it on her desk on the far side of the room. He then pulled out a chair and sank his heavy frame into it.

"You couldn't possibly," she snapped, eyes washed with tears.

Hank exhaled, shaking his head. "Ororo," he stated. "I love you, you always known that. So I fully grasp what it means to love and not have that love reciprocated. And after that night I dreamed that we might've…"

Ororo held up her hand, unwilling to hear to more. "We swore we wouldn't speak of that night Hank, we both agreed that it was a mistake."

"A mistake which sent you sailing back into Logan's arms."

"He is…was…my boyfriend at the time," she cried. "I was sleeping him."

"And how did he show his loyalty and affection," Hank said testily.

"Stop it," Ororo whimpered.

"He slithered into Jean's bed sheets and then…"

"Stop it!" Ororo's scream sounded like a wailing wind.

Hank stifled his tongue. Rising, he turned his back on the feral temptress, who had the power to conform lightening in the palm of her hand. For a brief period, an ill-mannered wind swept into the bedroom. Going over to the window, Hank closed it and faced Ororo. Her crumpled face pierced the innermost part of himself. Defeated, he walked steadily to her side, and sank down on the mattress.

"Ororo…I'm…so…sorry…I…"

He was silenced by her lips crushing his mouth in a kiss. Stunned, he grabbed her at the shoulders and yanked her back. "Ororo…what are you…"

"Hold me Hank," she cried, pressing her head into his chest. "Please…just hold me."

His mind was a blur.

He knew better to leave, but he couldn't bear the idea of leaving her in such condition. So, he slid back against the comforter, shifted as Ororo moved next to him, and laid his head on the pillow. Ororo shivered, pressing her face in the side of his chest. Hank could feel warm tears damping his shirt. He tried to shift his position so they would lie face to face, but she wouldn't budge.

"Ororo? What is it? Ororo, what is the matter?"

"Just hold me," she cried anxiously, "just hold me."

Unwillingly using his strength, he turned her, staring demanding. "Ororo. I can sense that something is wrong. Despite what's happened between us, we're still friends, you can trust me to be there for you. What is it?"

"I don't want to discuss it," she exhaled, getting out the bed pacing.

"Ororo," he growled. "What is the matter with you? We've always been able to talk."

"Leave me alone Hank," she cried.

"No," he shot up in the bed. "Not until I find out what ails you. You've been rude, distant, and above all moody. I can understand that you are hurt, but damn it, what is it? Maybe the Professor and I can help."

Ororo raked her hand through her hair, pacing frantically. "I don't need you're help. I don't need anyone's help. I can take care of my baby all by myself."

Hank reeled back, absolutely mortified. "Baby? What baby?" Ororo cupped a hand over her mouth, realizing she'd made a mistake. Terrified, her pace quickened. Hank pushed to his feet slowly, crossing the floor to Ororo. Her back was to him; she refused to look at him, too ashamed. "Ororo," he whispered forcing her around. "Are you pregnant?"

"Yes," she cried, dissolving into a wealth of tears, sinking to the floor. "Yes, oh god!"

Hank hugged her close, strumming his hand through her hair. "Hush now, it's okay. It'll be alright. I'm here."

Author's Note: I saw that I accidentally titled two chapters wrong, but the chapters are right. I've made the proper corrections. Sorry for the typo, hope nobody got confused.