A/N: We're coming to the home stretch of this story. One more chapter to go. It's been too long, I know, but hopefully the resolution will be worth it!

I somehow manage to dodge Logan and any questions he might have about what I saw in my head after I drained him for four whole days.

With all members of the X-Men, and thus teachers, back, the Professor thought it was a good idea to have a teacher training week—and by that, he meant actual training related to education, not the training we do every other day when there isn't a mission, the kind related to being X-Men. Since it's the normal time of year for spring break, he gave the kids the week off and tortured the rest of us with computer-based training and seminars and other not-very-fun learning experiences I would rather not repeat any time soon. I guess he thought it was rare enough for all of us to be home at once that he had to take advantage of the opportunity presented.

Sometimes during the training, I felt Logan's eyes on me. But at the time I was able to pretend that all of my focus was on the material. Lunchtime didn't give us an opportunity to talk privately since we all ate together as "team-building."

Now it's the last day of teacher training, though, and I know my time must be up. All of us have been getting antsy, but Logan has been particularly gruff all day. I can tell that he's almost reached his limit of what he's willing to be put through as far as formal education about educating others is concerned—and the Professor knows exactly what that limit is because the moment he ends this particular session, Logan is out the door. The Professor doesn't look shocked at all.

I half expect Logan to be waiting in the hall to pounce on me, but he's nowhere in sight. I don't want that confrontation in front of the rest of the group, thank you very much. So instead, I get to walk out peacefully with Jubilee and Kitty. I tell them that I want to work out, but they decide they'd rather do something inactive and non-cerebral, so they head off to watch a movie at the local theater. As we part ways, I look around to make sure, but still Logan is out of sight.

Perhaps it's that great minds think alike, or maybe he heard me, but now that I'm back downstairs in workout clothes consisting of a sports bra and shorts, I hear the sound of grunting coming from inside. I would recognize that sound anywhere, so it's no surprise when I push through the doors and see Logan at one of the weight benches doing chest presses.

"You're supposed to have a spotter for that." I can't help the taunt. Whenever he does something that normal people would consider dangerous, it pops out. He's used to it by now and rolls his eyes. I know he does even though he's staring up at the ceiling.

"Uh huh."

I hold back, not sure where I want to start since watching him is much more fun—I mean, fascinating. Really, my feelings for him haven't changed since the last absorption. I've always thought he was a fine specimen of manhood, even when we kept things friendly between us. Like we still will, since nothing has changed at all.

I finally decide on weight machines instead of free weights and pick my first target. We spend the next fifteen minutes in silence, and each second is killing me. I keep expecting him to ask about—well, about anything. Or say something. Even something off the wall or a demand to know what I found out. But he doesn't, and so I don't bring it up, either.

Eventually I go through all the machines, while he's still doing reps using free weights. I pause for a moment, unsure if I should say anything to him. We've had quiet gym time together before, but this seems off somehow, and I don't know how to fix it other than to bring the subject up myself. Which I won't, so there goes that.

"Want to spar?"

He says the words as I'm turning to leave. I realize his eyes have been following me in the mirror. He must have seen me hesitate and know that I'm not ready to leave yet. I paste on a grin, one I would have worn before this last mission. Or before breaking up with Bobby. Anything to feel normal again.

"Sure, if you think you're up to it."

"Haven't had the opportunity since I came back, if you know what I mean. It'd be nice to see if these new memories of mine match up to reality."

I can understand that, but the mocking tone he's taken is irritating.

"I'll be sure to hold back on the strength," I offer as we head toward the large open area set up for this purpose.

"Don't do it on my account. I want to see what you've got, darlin'."

I struggle to fight down the blush that those words want to invoke. I'm not at all sure he meant that at face value, but I have to let it drop for my own sanity. Instead, I widen my smile in challenge, an expression that he returns.

We're evenly matched. I knew we would be, even before we started. Whatever his journey between timelines has done, it hasn't affected his fighting ability at all, or his knowledge of my abilities. He knows where to counter me to best effect, using all of the techniques he himself taught me years ago.

Unfortunately for me, I'm more aware of his body than I have ever been before while sparring. I'm having a hard time reading his facial tells when my eyes keep drifting to his chest, barely covered by a tank top, or his hands, which I don't want gripping me that way all of a sudden—no, I want them doing other things. I suppress that the best I can. In the end, I end up pinned to the mat, and he gives me a frustrated look.

"You're not trying hard enough," he observes. "You usually move better than that. It takes me a lot longer to pin you, on average."

"I'm distracted," I snap back without thinking about it. How dare he lecture me like I'm still a student?

"Really? By what?"

"You, you idiot!" There, I let it out finally. He rolls off and stands up, arms crossed as he glares down at me.

"Well, at least you're finally letting it out," he growls at me. Actually growls!

I jump up and return the stance and look. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What exactly was I supposed to tell you?"

He's fishing. He's still not sure how much I know, which is, above all else, infuriating for some reason. I want to punch him, to get some of the annoyance out of my system, but instead I feel myself soften a little because I catch a glimpse of insecurity in his eyes.

"How about that you loved me, back in your old timeline?" I try not to let the words come out as an accusation, but I'm sure he takes it as one.

He doesn't deny it, at least. "What does that have to do with now?"

The words are harshly spoken, and I find myself angry all over again, as well as a little hurt. But I try to brush it off, since it feeds into my insecurities about how he might feel about me now. If he doesn't even think those feelings are bleeding over, then there's not much more that needs to be said, I suppose.

"Nothing," I bite out and begin to rush away before I let any more out. He catches me by the arm, and I'm half tempted to turn my mutation back up to give him a jolt.

"Marie."

That one word is my downfall. It always is. He rarely uses it in this timeline, although his memories in my head tell me that he used it more in the old one.

"No. I'm Rogue, Logan. And until you can see that, we don't have much more to discuss." The defeat I suddenly feel is in my tone, I know, because he lets go of my arm as if I've burned him. That allows me to leave.

I need to get out of this place. Not caring who I pass, I rush upstairs, to the second level, then the third. My goal is the closest balcony that isn't attached to living quarters, so I run into the music room, thankful it isn't being used by any students or teachers.

Flinging the French doors open, I take in gulps of fresh air. There's a tinge of rain to it, but that's fine. I can out-fly a storm.

I jump into the air and soar into the clouds, telling myself that it's the wind causing the tears stinging my eyes. Whatever peace I'm trying to find eludes me as I skim the cloud tops, running my fingers through the damp wisps. Instead, my mind whirls in the same circles that have occupied me for the past few days.

I wish I could say that I know what I want from Logan, or even from myself. But my uncertainty is part of the problem. I don't know. I can't begin to sort out my complicated feelings for the man who has been my friend for over a decade, let alone think about how I felt toward him in some alternate timeline. I'm not sure what he wants from me, either.

The mature thing, the responsible thing, would be to talk with him, lay it all out on the table. We used to be able to do that. Hell, even a few weeks ago it was so easy. Now, not so much. I don't know how to start the conversation, especially not after the last aborted attempt.

I acknowledge to myself that leaving him, running away was petty. I meant what I said to him, though, and I stick by it. Whatever discussion we end up having, I need him to see me as who I am now, not who I was to him then. No matter if we stay friends or…

I don't let myself finish that thought. He didn't give any indication earlier that he'd want something more from me. He hasn't this entire time he's been back. Thinking we could have more is going to get me in trouble. I've had enough heartache to last a lifetime thanks to Bobby. I don't need to start dragging Logan into my messed up romantic life.

With a sigh I drop back toward the mansion, gliding in wide circles so I can take in the lay of the land. I don't feel like talking to anyone, so I land in a quiet, uncrowded corner of the lawn and make my way to one of the side doors. I slip inside and silently close the door behind me. It takes me a moment to realize I'm not alone in the hallway.

"Is everything alright, my dear?"

Erik's voice draws me out of my thoughts. I look over to see him standing near the library door, a small stack of books in one hand. His gray eyes glint with curiosity.

I managed to dredge a small smile for him. "I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind lately."

He hums and joins me in the hallway, motioning with his free hand for me to walk with him. Although I don't want to, I know my mood isn't a good reason to be rude to him. It won't hurt anything to walk to the stairs with him, anyway.

"I would like to apologize for Raven's mischief the other day. She should have picked a better time," he tells me.

I let out a short laugh. "You know she rarely takes us into account when she has a goal, Erik," I remind him. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and see the wry smile he gives me.

"Nevertheless, Charles and I have talked with her. We will be firmer in coordination from now on. We've been too lax recently, and you and Kitty almost bore the brunt of it."

"I don't suppose she had her operatives actually check for information before they planted their bombs, did she?" I ask, my own curiosity getting to me. Besides, missions are a great distraction from my personal life.

Erik's brow wrinkles. "No, and Charles and I made our unhappiness over that known."

I sigh. Of course.

At the stairs, I pause and offer him a half-hearted smile. "We'll find something next time."

He tilts his head to the side and tries to smile back. I can tell that the Sentinels are weighing on him, as they do on all of us when we think about it too much.

"Let us hope so, my dear. Have a good evening."

With a nod, he continues down the hall while I head up to my floor. All I want is a shower, my bed, and maybe a good book to lose myself in for a while. Of course, that's not what I get at all.

Logan leans against the wall across from my door, arms crossed. He hasn't changed from his workout clothes, which means he's probably been waiting for me this whole time. For one moment I consider turning on my heel and heading back downstairs, but that would be childish. Also, I've done enough running for the day. I'm tired of it, tired of this back and forth, but I don't know how to pull out from under the weight of my own thoughts.

"Not now, Logan."

"I just want to talk."

I make the mistake of lifting my eyes. His gaze is steady and clear, but there's something there that slightly terrifies me. Something, some small shred of bravery I don't otherwise feel, makes me nod as I open my door.

"Fine. Come on in."

Logan and I stand awkwardly in the middle of my room for a few seconds, him looking at me while I look anywhere else. Finally, I gesture to the pair of chairs tucked cozily into one corner of the room. We've sat there before, chatting and hanging out, sometimes watching games on the TV in the other corner.

He takes his customary seat on the right, relaxing back into it with a sigh, while I perch on the edge of the one on the left. Usually I let myself sink in, too. I bought the fluffiest chairs that would fit in this space for a reason. But not today. Not now.

Logan runs a hand over his face and grimaces. "I should have told you about…about what my other future was like. It wasn't fair to you, finding out like that," he begins quietly.

This surprises me enough that I raise my eyes from perusing the blue and white patterned rug at our feet. Like out in the hall, his gaze is clear, but something lurks behind the calm.

"I don't expect you to tell me everything about that other life. Not even if it involves me. You have a right to your privacy. I'm the one who should apologize. I hate that my mutation takes that away from you, and I should have tried harder to talk you into letting me heal on my own."

This isn't a new argument for us, but the reasons behind it are. His memories have never caused me to doubt my feelings for him, or his for me. That's what makes this whole situation to messed up. It's added a dynamic I wasn't prepared for, not barely out of a less-than-healthy relationship.

Logan shakes his head. "No. I don't mind. I never have, and I never will. I meant that before the time travel craziness. I've said it to you in both lives. Your health, your safety, that's more important to me than anything other than the kids we have to protect. I don't want what's in my head to hurt you."

I take a deep breath, still looking into his eyes. "It didn't. I mean, it didn't hurt me, seeing that, except that I don't have it here, and I'm not ready for anything like that."

His eyes widen, and he leans forward. I hold up a hand.

"Logan, I just broke up with the guy I've been seeing on and off for over a decade. I have a lot of myself to piece together, a lot of soul searching to do. I may not be ready for something else between us, but not because I don't want it. I…maybe I want it too much, because keeping my distance hurts. That's why I've been avoiding you. Not because what I saw in your memories upset me. I'm trying to keep the promise I made myself to take the time and figure my life out, you know?"

I offer him a small, hesitant smile, even though I can see the confusion and hurt in his eyes. He leans back again and sighs.

"I get it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or unhappy, though. Maybe I should have Charles send me on a mission for a while. Give you some space," he says.

"No!" I wince and try to modulate my tone to something a reasonable adult might use. "I don't want to drive you away from here. It's your home, too."

We stare at each other for several long moments, at an impasse. I can tell that he's probably going to be stubborn about this, and it's breaking my heart. Nothing is coming out right, nothing is piecing together the way I want it to. If I even know what I want anymore.

I fiddle with some strands of hair, pushing them behind my ear. With a frown, I sigh. This isn't doing either of us any good.

"Maybe we should table it for today, okay?"

He smiles at me, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Sure."

I walk him to my door. It's probably cruel, but I can't help leaning up to kiss his cheek. We don't say a word as he opens the door and leaves, shutting it quietly behind him.

I flop down on my bed, burying my face in my pillow. Then I cry for the next half hour before falling asleep. I'm exhausted enough that I miss dinner, and no one comes up to check on me until after.

I wake to a knock on my door. Stumbling across the room as I rub my eyes, I open it to find Jubilee on the other side, a plate in hand.

"Hey. You didn't make it to dinner, so I thought you could use some grub," she said, shoving the plate at me.

I stare down at it and then at her, still in a hazy of sleepiness.

"Thanks," I say. It's all I can manage.

Jubilee barges in and shuts the door behind her. She spins and, hands on hips, gives me a once over.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks." This time, I let sarcasm tinge my tone.

"Always here for hard truths, babe. Wanna talk?"

I should, but I can't, so I shake my head in the negative and walk over to my chair. She plops down in the other one, in his chair. It's been a while since we've sat like this. Sometimes after a mission we used to hang out, making sure the one who came back was whole and had a meal in them before crashing into sleep. I feel a little like that's what's going on, but I'm not sure why. I'm a little afraid I've become Jubilee's personal mission. That rarely ends well.

"It's not Bobby, is it? He's an ass, and you can't change your mind and take him back," she states, voice and eyes firm.

I laugh a little. "No, not Bobby."

I start eating. I get a few bites in when she makes her next guess. Unfortunately, it's all too accurate.

"It's Logan, then."

I groan. I don't want to do this, but it looks like she isn't giving me a choice. I can't believe I've missed how close we once were. What was I thinking?

"Yes." Maybe if I admit it, she'll go away.

I chance a glance up at her. Instead of triumph, all I see in her eyes is a wistful kind of sadness. That scares me a little.

"He's gone, you know."

I drop my fork.

"What?"

"The Prof sent him off on a mission. Just him. Not even Scott knows where he's gone. I checked."

Of course she did. She's so nosy.

Damn him. I told him I didn't want to drive him away. And damn me, too, for not being able to make up my mind.

I carefully set my plate on the small table next to my chair and stare down at my lap. I want to run out of the room, to find Charles and demand answers, but I'm frozen. It won't do any good, anyway. If Scott doesn't know, or isn't admitting it—because I'm not convinced he didn't lie through his teeth to Jubilee—then no one is going to budge. I know my teammates too well.

Apparently, Jubilee considers her mission accomplished even though I haven't finished eating. She stands and moves towards me, placing her hand on my shoulder. A quick squeeze and then she's gone, moving towards the door. I don't try to stop her. There's nothing left to say right now anyway.

As she closes the door behind her with a soft click, I lean my head back onto the soft cushioned back of my chair and let myself dissolve into tears for the second time today.