Oh my gosh I cannot believe it has been so long since my last update! I really am sorry for having taken so long, but what with school and then stupid life drama – well I lost inspiration. But yesterday for some reason I got re-inspired and now the story will not be ignored anymore!

So here is Chapter 3 – and I will continue to do review replies like I had done so before.

Maybe it would help to read the former two chapters along with this one? Just a suggestion, since it has been a long time.

And really, SORRY for taking so long. I had ever intention of being more regular, hate to disappoint fans you know.

Ok, happy reading,

Raven

Even for her it was a strange weapon. Its design and shape was like nothing she'd ever seen, despite all the time she'd been with X-Corp. There were no signs, no symbols or numbers that would hint toward the origins of its making. She was beginning to think the detonator was from a private manufacturer, however disturbing and unlikely that was.

Rogue tucked the device into an inner pocket of her blazer. She wasn't sure how wise it had been to sneak the piece of evidence away from authorities, but the way she saw it, Hank was now in jail and anything that gave her a leg up was beneficial to him. She was set on finding a way to get him out from behind bars. Hank didn't deserve to be caged like an animal.

Jesus, listen to yourself. As if you're a one-woman army. Sean was right.

Rogue ran a hand through her hair, straightening strands that had blown into dishevelment. Time had passed unacknowledged since she first snuck away to the gazebo. She needed peace and quiet after the suffocating din of the mansion. It was crazy back there, too many students alarmed by Hank's arrest, shocked at Rogue's sudden appearance.

Once again, not the homecoming she would've liked.

She looked around the cliff side, stared at the gentle waves caressing the shore, their soothing hush lulling her towards oblivion. It was so easy to fall into reveries, especially when she wasn't researching the next terrorist on Interpol files; learning how to dismantle the newest explosive device; or pummeling a stubborn brute who didn't know what "peaceful negotiations" meant. The good old days with X-Corps...

Thinkin' like Ah'm not going back, Rogue realized. She shut her eyes, debated the idea. The years away had been good for her, no doubt of that. Her coping mechanism, her reason for living, her purpose in life. That's what being an X-Man was supposed to be. Only this place reminded me too much of...

Here, at the gazebo, at that very spot, it had all become real. That night she sat all alone, freezing, murmuring the words of a melancholy poem. She remembered it. So clearly. How he sat, what he said.

Rogue felt a burning in her nose. Almost frantically, she sniffed and rubbed her eyes. Damn it. It had been easier having the memories faded, so she wouldn't fall into them in every three seconds of idleness. Focus.

Hank—detonator—terrorist attacking mayor.

There was work to do.

She delved into her mind, gently stirring the psyches to attention. It had been difficult at first, completely draining to find that control again, but the incessant sessions with Emma and Betsy had done her good. It'd been her own doing, losing control; after accepting that, she could get it back again.

With a puff of sulfurous smoke Rogue felt herself land on the cold hard floor of the Institute basement.

The main computer room was empty, much to her relief. She could get work done with little distraction. Seating herself at the control panel, she powered up the central computer system and watched the large screen come to life.

A three-dimensional scanner was located just beside the main control panel. Rogue removed the detonator from her blazer, placed it inside the scanner's compartment. After starting the program, the apparatus began working.

Rogue dialed a number on her satellite phone. After two rings: "Yello?"

"Sean, Ah have a favor ta ask."

"Rogue, lass, how goes it over in the States?"

"It's been...eventful. Listen, sorry Ah haven't called sooner but it's been really..."

"Don't worry 'bout it, goirl. There's plenty of time te talk later. Right now I'm sensin' ye need somethin'"

"Ah'm sending you a scan of a strange weapon, a detonator. Ah've never seen one like it before."

"I'll run it through the archives." After a brief moment, "Nuttin'."

Rogue felt her eyebrow arch. "Really."

"Really."

"Interpol and X-Corps' files?"

"Yep. I'm just as disturbed, lass, though not that surprised. Somebody's cookin' up illegal weapons in the underground."

"And they're using it to attack U.S. government officials, framing mutants for it," Rogue said.

Sean sighed forlornly, "I saw the news. Didn't look professional though."

"That's because it wasn't," Rogue gritted. "The supplier gives it to an eager fanatic who inflicts harm and creates publicity." The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Mutant terrorism had risen catastrophically in the past few years, an explosion of hate crimes from the likes of overeager, average citizens with access to fatally dangerous weapons. "Another zealot to fight for the cause."

"Don't start with the hatin', Rogue. Ye ain't been fightin' these lunatics for two years just to let 'em beat ye down."

"Ah'm not," Rogue said. Her eyes flicked like reflex to the doorway. "Thanks, Sean, Ah'll check in soon." She slipped the phone back into her blazer just as a stocky man entered the control room.

His steely eyes focused with unnerving levelness, his face blank and difficult to read. As he approached, arms crossed and mouth set in a thin line, Rogue stood frozen by the computer controls. She didn't know how she should react, what to say, what to think.

Logan paused three feet away. His dark eyes glinted with nameless emotion though his expression remained obdurate. That callous poker face of his had never really bothered Rogue before; she always knew there was something behind hit, a wise mentor, a dependable friend—now she wasn't sure. Especially after all the time apart, how she had fled like the coward he had trained her not to be.

Rogue felt her insides squirming. Outwardly she appeared completely calm and unperplexed. Logan would be proud, if he didn't see past her bluffs that is.

"Been a while, eh Stripes?"

The old nickname. It tugged at something inside of her. And all she could think to say was, "Yeah..."

"Long's ye did what needed to be done."

Rogue looked away. His steely gaze, it was unnerving. Explanations and excuses streamed through her mind in senseless jumbles. She had speeches prepared, words that would've made so much sense.

"Kiddo..."

If only, she thought, if only that innocence was still hers. Before she could think anything else, she found herself wrapped in a fatherly bear hug. She blinked in confusion, smelled Logan's faint aftershave, and almost teared at the eyes.

"Good to finally see you again."

And she realized he understood. Logan knew the reasoning behind her flight. He had been there too, in a suffocating situation where the only remedy was escape, was distance. She should have known he'd understand. Relief flowed through her like water on a parched throat. And she was so thankful the interaction wasn't awkward.

Logan stood back and took a long look at her, "Ye eatin' nuff? What's with the skin and bones, Stripes?"

She could have laughed, but only managed a scoff. "Not much different from when Ah left, Logan...'cept more muscles maybe."

"If those are what you call muscles."

She scowled.

"Who you talkin' to?"

Rogue sighed, shook her head. She showed him the alien detonator and explained her attempts at putting a brand to it. "It has to be privately manufactured," she said. "Interpol and X-Corps have the most thorough weapons databases in the world. There ain't no gun or bomb not in there."

Turning the device around in his hands, Logan's eyes narrowed into suspicious slits, "And somebody's handin' 'em to wannabe martyrs. Quaint."

"I say we do immediate reconnaissance," Rogue said. Ideas and protocol streamed through her head and she voiced them upon enlightenment, "If common people have this then common people will know about it. One of us should go undercover on the streets of New York. We should also run a profile on the mayor's attacker, locate his contact. Until we get solid evidence we'll have a very wide search area, but I doubt we'll have problems getting some of the students to help—"

Logan held up a hand to silence her. "Kid," he said with a sigh, "you just got back home from two years o' trekkin' the world fighting these kind of goons. Relax a little, catch up with people. I got this covered."

Rogue was slightly offended, "Are you kicking me off assignment?"

"Assignment?" Logan huffed. "Remember where you are, Rogue. We ain't a paramilitary group of mutants. This here's a school. So why don't you go...read a book or somethin'. And the Professor's come back from the jail. He'll be wantin' to see you." With that he pocketed the detonator, pat her on the back, and left.

After a few seconds she rubbed her eyes in sudden exhaustion. It had been days since she last exercised her powers and the sudden burst at city hall was like sprinting 100 meters after just woken from a long sleep. She felt stretched, wasted. She had a multitude of powers for use any way she pleased, but exertion drained her immensely. Once during a raid with Lance and Shiro, she was so weakened she'd nearly been killed by a soldier with a mere rock.

Logan was right—so was Sean. This was supposed to be some time off. Her thoughts were still in X-Corps mode. But it was hard; they couldn't expect her to sit around and do nothing while a friend sat in jail. Yet for the time being, there didn't seem to be much she could do. Stretching out her stiff limbs, she sighed, realizing the inevitable would come.

She didn't want to face them, the X-Men. Especially not Kitty. Or Kurt. From all the insanity that had ensued, no one had much opportunity to ask her questions, thank God. And out off them all, the only one she could bear to talk to was Jean—and that thought alone made her want to laugh. If the me of two years ago could see this now...

Her pocket began vibrating. Somebody was calling her. Looking at the viewscreen, the number read UNKNOWN. Rogue frowned curiously and pressed ACCEPT. "Hello?"

No sound came from the other line. Then the coarse hiss of something brushing against the mouthpiece. Finally a whispery voice, "Impressive work today, child. I look forward to our first meeting."

X

"So."

"So."

"Vhen...vhen do you think ve should talk to her?"

"Hmph. Mmm not gang hershem."

"Vhat?"

Kitty growled in exasperation, "I said I'm not going to talk to her!"

Kurt glanced around the rec room, hoping nobody had heard Kitty's outburst. They were sitting in their own little corner but everybody seemed tightly-wound and sensitive that day. Many of the students were taking down the decorations around the room. A surprise party had been planned for Hank, complete with a plethora of balloons and a hand-painted banner shouting: Congratulations, Doc! But instead their friendly Beast was locked in a jail cell.

He frowned at Kitty, "But…she's your best friend."

"Was."

"Oh come on. It's not like she abandoned us."

"She didn't even, like, bother to tell us, Kurt!" Kitty exploded. "Like she didn't care!"

He nodded, scratching his head, "I know…it's just…she's been with X-Corps. She's like…saving the vorld or something now!"

Kitty huffed and crossed her arms. Suddenly the entire lounge quieted. She glanced at the doorway, and by the devil, there she was, though she looked anything but demonic.

Rogue's heels clicked delicately against the floor as she entered. Her entire appearance radiated class and dignity, from the dove white of her pants to the thrifty green of her trendy jacket. Even her hair, layered and styled to perfect feathers, added to the allure of her beauty. She smiled timidly around the room, nude lips opening as though to say something but no words came out.

Storm was the first one to approach. She wrapped Rogue in a motherly hug, smiling comfortingly, "Welcome back, Rogue."

The other students seem to wake from a reverie. They began milling about Rogue, admiring her glamorousness, asking about her activity with X-Corps.

"You really put out a riot in Darfur—"

"Did you visit Paris?"

"—and that earthquake in India?"

"Who cut your hair?"

"—and blew up Zarqawi?"

Kitty felt her jaw tighten. She watched Rogue's flawless smile, the modesty in her eyes as she answered everyone's questions. Obviously nobody could come out and ask about the sudden departure, the sudden return—not many knew the real story. But they way they fawned over her, pretended nothing was awry….

Kitty glanced at Kurt, who didn't seem willing to join the others. "You feel awkward, don't you," she said.

He shrugged, "Dunno…I'm just a little veirded out."

Kitty was angry. She blinked upon realizing it. To some degree, she knew it was unfair, but still so hard to ignore. Two years ago, she had been shut out, cut off, and scorned—all because she genuinely tried to help. She knew Rogue was better now, but that didn't erase how she had turned on those closest to her, how she had turned on her best friend. And such betrayal was more than a little hard to forgive.

Kitty would never forget that night she found her in their room, saw the scabby skin, skin that could only exist from months of abuse. And the stained knife, Rogue's wide green eyes of bland surprise. Bereft of guilt or shame, nothing but a placid lack of expectation, as if she really believed it was nothing.

"Ah thought we'd discussed this Kitty" she had said, so nonchalant, so normal. "Walkin' through doors is impolite."

Kitty only stared, blue eyes wide with fear for her friend. "R-Rogue," she stammered, "you're…"

And Rogue stood from her kneeling position near her bed. She placed the knife back in her bureau drawer and looked at herself in the mirror, at the fresh addition to the slashes on her arms. "Don't worry, Kit, Ah promise it's nothin'." She wiped half-dried tears from her face. It hadn't wavered from that disturbing mask.

"Rogue?" Kitty entreated, slowly approaching. "You wanna, like, talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?"

Kitty blinked. She had no idea what to do, how to approach this, what to say. Rogue's behavior was making her doubt her worry, as if she was overreacting. So she suddenly cried, "What's there to talk about? You're cutting yourself Rogue!" She snatched her friend's arm, drew it up for full view, "You're bleeding!"

Rogue wrenched her arm free, fury flashing across her eyes. Then almost immediately she was calm again, "Ah told you, it's nothin'. Drop it." She turned to leave, but Kitty blocked her path. "Ah'm sorry you don't get it, Kit."

An invisible force shoved into Kitty. She stumbled back a few steps and stared after Rogue in shock. Had she just used her powers against her? Without a backward glance, Rogue left the room, slamming the door on the way out.

Kurt's voice pulled Kitty back to the present, "She's looking at us."

Kitty looked up to see Rogue making her way toward them. Confusingly, Kitty's insides began twisting into knots, out of bitterness, anger, or fear she couldn't tell. What did she have to be afraid of? It was Rogue who was treading uncharted territory here, Rogue who should be nervous about her reception of an unorthodox return. Yet Kitty felt an incredible urge to get up and leave. She wasn't ready to face Rogue, who she had failed to help.

"Hi." The new Rogue offered a brilliant smile, eyes looking questioningly from Kurt to Kitty. "Ah just wanted to say that this was unexpected, so it was kinda barely planned…" She shook her head and sighed, "Ah'm just sorry. For everythin' and Ah want to make it better while Ah'm here."

Kurt tried to alleviate the awkwardness. He didn't really harbor hard feelings toward his sister. During her "illness" he had kept a healthy distance, allowing Kitty, a more empathetic girl, to approach Rogue. He didn't realize Kitty would feel the butt of Rogue's doldrums, and he was glad for being spared that, at least.

"Everything's all vight, sis," he offered and gave her a brief hug. "You just got back. Don't vorry about it."

"I am, like, inclined to disagree."

"Kitty!" Kurt exclaimed, aghast.

Rogue's gaze was a steady sea of green as she stared at Kitty. It was hard to read her expression. "No, she's right. Y'all have all right to be upset with me."

"No, a ha, no," Kurt said nervously, "because then ve'll be awkward and uncomfortable. And ve don't want that." He glared expectantly at Kitty, who merely looked in another direction.

"It's good to see you again," Rogue said. "But Ah have to see the Professor…so we'll catch up later?" Without waiting for a reply, she left the room.

Once in the empty hall, Rogue leaned against the wall and buried her face in her hands. That had been harder than she'd anticipated. All her emotional distress had been so focused on one person, it never occurred to her that she would care so much what others thought, even if they were her closest friends, her family. She had done them wrong, she knew, and how to remedy it was uncertain. It wasn't a terrible thing, solitude. It seemed necessary at the moment anyway.

Regaining composure, Rogue made her way to Xavier's office. The door was ajar.

He was gazing out the window when she entered, profile lit by relentless summer sun. Hearing her enter, he slowly turned around and a soft smile grew on his sagely face, as though he were welcoming the return of a soldier from a cold, brutal war. His kind eyes looked her over, "Well, child, I cannot complain to Mr. Cassidy that he has been neglecting you."

Rogue stood with her hands clasped lightly in front of her. She examined the Professor carefully and it was as she feared: he seemed older. Two years had flown for her, what with all the work and activity, and she felt better for it. But the Professor, the dear Professor, seemed careworn, tired. Much to her surprise, she was sad to see Xavier's mortality so blatantly. Years ago he had seemed an ageless creature of wisdom and unfaltering strength. Now he was...

"An old man," Xavier sighed. "You look at me now and that's what you see, is it not?" He smiled kindly, "Dear Rogue. While I might have withered a bit over the years, you have blossomed."

Tears welled in her eyes. This man, who had been a stranger, who turned surrogate father, who saved her life—Rogue did not realize how much she had missed him.

He seemed to be examining her. He frowned every few seconds, tilted his head slightly, frowned again. Then he relaxed and spoke with an indiscernible tone, "I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Rogue."

She clasped her hands tighter.

"In your former condition these words would only have incited hate and resentment, so I did not voice them. And though it has been a long while, I respect you too much to spare you their veracity: Your previous behavior was selfish, inconsiderate, spiteful, damaging, and hurt many of your friends."

She did not look away, but held a steady gaze.

"Not only did you hurt them, you hurt yourself all too palpably, and what's worse, you relished in it, Rogue. You relished in your self-inflicted pain as a sort of punishment for some wrong you did not commit. And that, Rogue, that hurt us more than any of your reclusive demands.

"I only wished for you to know that," Xavier said. He seemed to grow more tired. "But also to know that it is in the past. Do not think we didn't understand you were in pain. We knew and we helped in the only way we knew how, though your departure was our last resort. Now it is past, and the past is where it will stay. We have no desire to dig it up."

Rogue had to admit she felt rather miffed at such a rant, but it was the last traces of the recalcitrant urges of her angsty teen years. She had not looked away from the Professor the entire time, but now drew her eyes down to her feet.

"Have you nothing to say?"

She looked up again and sighed, "Ah'm sorry. For givin' up, for not caring. Y'all taught me better than that. Ah don't regret all this time with X-Corps, but… Ah am sorry. Really."

Xavier nodded in understanding. Apology accepted. And like he'd just said, it was all the past. "You seem like a different person, Rogue."

"Ah am."

"Is this a good or bad thing?"

"Good, Ah think…Ah'm not sure. But it feels like a good thing."

"How do you feel, being back here?"

Rogue sighed again and shrugged, "Ah don't know. Ah haven't had much time to really think about it since Ah got back." She frowned, "How's Mr. McCoy? Are they really pressing charges?"

The Professor rubbed his tired eyes, "I spent two hours talking it over with the DA and other officials. They are fighting for an arraignment. I suspect there is inside influence against Hank …" He paused, looking at Rogue quizzically. "And I don't want you involved."

"Funny. That's what Logan said. But Ah wasn't plannin' on listening to him."

"I have no wish to argue with you, but is this not your time to relax?"

She laughed humorlessly. "Ya know that thing where when ya got nothin' to do and ya start brooding about stuff? Ah was kept busy, Professor, for two years Ah was busy. Time of my life, really."

"I see what you mean. Still, I would prefer it if you played a passive role in all this. I'm sure you know what's been happening around here and it could get messy. Logan and Ororo will have it under control. I want you to rest."

Rogue fought the urge to argue. Maybe for a few days (as in one or two) she really would step back and let others take care of the problems in the world. Still, the itch to act was awful hard to ignore. "Ah'll…try," was all she could muster to oblige.

"Good." The Professor looked her over again. He seemed fascinated by the change in her. Rogue had always seemed very mature for her age, but from that Gothic teenager of years ago to this stunning young woman—it was more than her appearance. She carried a serene air of intelligent surety. Steady. Grounded. Like a rock, enduring and strong. The contrast was hard to ignore. "Have you been taken care of? Linens, food?"

"Ah-huh, Ah'm good. Need to unpack."

"It's good to have you home, child. It truly is."

Rogue offered a heavy smile. Unexpectedly, she moved around the desk and gave the Professor a hug. He was surprised by the gesture, but patted her back fatherly. "Thank you, Professor. It's good to be back." Then she left the room and closed the door softly behind her, leaving her mentor to wonder as to what her return would bring.