Night had begun to settle in Westchester. The leaves in the trees rustled silently from a calm wind, and the purple hues of the evening began to transcend across the gardens Logan and Rogue walked across. It was brisk outside, a telling sign of fall making its way into the city, but Rogue enjoyed the feeling of the cool wind against her bare shoulders. Her long sleeved sweater she often wore allowed her to expose some of her neck and shoulders, and it had been one of the few ways she would try to let her body not feel so covered up from the world.

Her hands were still gloved too, and one rested snuggly in Logan's. Neither had said a word since making their way outside.

Rogue cringed a bit. That wasn't entirely true. On their way downstairs, they had run into Kitty and Kurt heading upstairs. The young duo had stopped them in their normal curious ways, asking what they were up to. Logan had grunted "Walk," and continued to lead Rogue down the stairs.

She had tried to pull her hand out of his grasp upon seeing her two old classmates head their way, but he had refused to let go.

So when Kitty noticed their hand holding after Logan's usual one-word reply, she had mumbled an okay of sorts, though it came out with quite a long "oh" sound.

After they had passed them, Rogue had heard hurried whispering as Kitty and Kurt disappeared in the upstairs hall. Gossip was going to be running amuck.

Rogue sighed, taking a glance at her walking companion. He had occasionally looked over at her; at least she thought he had through the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure what the purpose of this excursion was.

Suddenly, Logan lifted his hand—the one still holding hers—and used his other to remove her glove.

Before Rogue could protest, he had successfully stripped her hand, still keeping a warm grip on it with his. He took her glove and shoved it in his jeans pocket, all while keeping pace along the pathway they walked.

He didn't say anything.

Rogue had gasped slightly at the feel of his hand in her naked hand, and was pretty sure feeling skin-on-skin contact was something that'd never get old. She decided to remain quiet instead of protest, and tightened her grip on his hand. His thumb began making lazy circles on her skin, and she nearly lost her footing from becoming hypnotized by it.

She realized that soon their walk would lead them around the mansion back to where they had started, and decided maybe silence wasn't the best mode of action right now. She had some stuff on her mind to say, and taking a shaky breath, figured now was better than never.

"Logan."

She paused long enough to glance over and see if he was paying attention. His eyes were transfixed on her, and she almost lost her cool for a second. She quickly averted her eyes back to the ground and continued.

"Logan, Ah like you—Ah've grown some ... feelings for you. Ah have been for a while, Ah guess." Their walking had slowed by some fruit trees along the south side of the mansion. "And whether or not you feel the same—"

Logan stopping their walking completely, causing Rogue to pause in her heart-spilling. He turned to face her, their hands still intertwined.

Suddenly she forgot what she had been saying.

Rogue had never thought she'd be having this conversation, with Logan or with anyone. She had been determined for so long to remain her namesake, afraid of getting close to anyone. She didn't trust herself, and lately she had been having a hard time trusting anyone else, especially after Mystique's betrayal as her friend Risty.

She was so tired of being used. Mystique, Mesmero, Apocalypse, and recently Gambit—it was all wearing down on her. She had been starting to believe people only got close to her when her poisonous skin came in handy. It made her wish fervently for control, not only for touch, but for protection.

Her lack of control made her an involuntary volunteer for their stupid plans of world conquest or whatever the hell they wanted to do, and she hated it.

She hated herself more, though, for letting it happen.

She broke eye contact with him, instead looking off at the vast meadows to their right, beyond the mansion's property. "Ah know right now Ah can touch, but soon Ah won't. And Ah don't think Ah can take going back to...." her voice trailed off a bit, unsure of even voicing the idea of losing Logan as soon as she got him.

She felt his finger tug at her chin, forcing her to make eye contact with him.

"I'm not afraid of your skin, darlin'," he simply said.

Well, yeah, not right now, she thought. In about, oh, a day or so you might change your mind. She prepared to voice her sentiments, but the eye contact had made her a bit weak in the knees. His stare was direct, and dark—almost feral.

She wasn't sure what it meant, but when his head began to lower a bit toward hers, she got an idea.

A fleeting thought told her they were outside and could be caught, but she didn't precisely care at the moment. She thought about stopping his advancements, telling him to get it through his head about her rationalization on love, especially love that had a countdown to the resurrection of poisonous skin.

She thought better of it, however, as he closed the gap between them and kissed her. To hell with logistics—she'd happily go to the loony bin later for the chance at tasting Logan now.

This kiss was not at all hesitant like their first—this one was deep, sensual, and freaking amazing. Rogue lost all coherent thoughts and simply enjoyed the tantalizing taste of barbeque, cigar, and Logan, all rolled up and currently invading her mouth like it owned the place.

His arms pulled her body towards him to close the gap between them, and she couldn't even find the capacity to put her arms around his neck. Instead, she placed her hands on his biceps, enjoying the feeling of his bulging muscles beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt. She arched back to allow him to bend slightly forward, seeing as though she didn't even top his shoulders in height. His arms steadied her, and she was glad; otherwise, she was pretty sure she'd fall stupidly flat on her back in a daze, and probably would remain there for most of the rest of the night.

Something began to tingle, and she wondered if her foot had fallen asleep.

And then suddenly Logan was inside her, everywhere.

She could see herself, in the medbay after going a bit crazy with all the personalities she had absorbed. She could see herself being held, comforted in the night by strong arms. She could see Apocalypse's old, crusty hand holding hers, stealing all the powers she had stolen—and could feel the fear rise up in her at the thought of him killing her.

She was in the medbay again, recovering. Feelings began to change—protection turned into arousal, arousal into shame, shame into protection again, and protection into ... love?

She saw herself when they got drunk to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. She was dancing around, looking clearly like an idiot, but all she could feel was affection. She saw herself reach over, grab a scarf, and kiss ... herself?

No, Logan! She had kissed Logan! She had thought she had dreamt that in a drunken stupor. Her mind raced as the memory of the kiss resurfaced the feelings of arousal and shame, and she tried to focus. Why was she seeing everything through the eyes of Logan? She felt so ... drained.

Oh god.

Her eyes shot open and she pushed Logan away, watching his large form crumple at her feet. No, no, no.

She wanted to release claws she didn't have, because they weren't a natural mutation. She wanted to stab herself, make this not real. A dream—a nightmare.

He was so still.

She screamed.