Charles paused over the silver tea service. "Milk and honey?"

Marie was surprised he still remembered how she used to take her tea. She was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of long talks in this very office... seemingly endless cups of strong Earl Grey tea, sweet English biscuits, a mentor's very earnest desire to help her control her 'gift,' and long, involved conversations on just about every topic under the sun. Within her mind, Erik stirred uneasily at her remembered intimacy with Charles. Her smile became strained.

"Just plain, thank you." It had been a long time since she'd been a young girl living here, blissfully enjoying the life of milk and honey. She wasn't bitter. It had been her choice to come here, both back then and today. It had been her choice to leave, too, but she wasn't that soft, naive girl any longer. "And the truth, straight up. No chaser."

Charles nodded thoughtfully as he handed her a steaming cup of tea. "Quite right." He paused a moment to pour his own tea. "I see no reason to dance about the reason for our mutual discomfort." Charles took a steadying sip of the hot brew. "I have not forgotten that we did not part on the best of terms, Rogue."

"I'm sorry it had to be that way."

"As am I." He set his tea on the edge of the desk and leaned forward intently. "I would not insult you by pretending I do not hope for some reconciliation between us on that matter, should you choose to accept my proposal, but that is not the reason I requested this meeting."

"I wouldn't have come if I thought it was." Unwavering, her dark, intelligent gaze met his.

Charles was beginning to realize this might be more difficult than he initially imagined. She'd always been tough — a fighter — but there was real steel in her now.

"Let me speak plainly. As I discussed with your agent, I wish to engage your services to paint several pieces."

"Several?"

He nodded. "I am aware most patrons do not commission more than one or two works, and I know my request is highly... unusual."

"Exactly how many paintings are you talking about, Charles?"

"Ten."

To her credit, Marie's cup rattled only once in the saucer before she regained her composure. "That's more than six months of work. Probably closer to nine." And one hell of a lot of money.

"Yes. I am aware of that." He reached for his tea. "I wish to commission five paintings for the school, in part because I find your work captivating and in part because it's good for the students here to know that it is possible—forgive me—but that it is possible for mutants, even those with extreme gifts, to make a place for themselves in today's world... with or without this school's help," he added, knowing that last detail would be a major sticking point for her. He knew she wouldn't want to be a poster child for the school that had failed to keep her safe. He took a sip of tea and his eyes twinkled. "And in part because it's a very fine investment."

Marie smiled at that. "Do you have a specific subject or a theme in mind." It was much easier to talk to him as a potential client than as a past professor.

Charles shook his head. "You would be free to paint whatever you wish. My only request is that they be new pieces, inspired by whatever strikes your fancy here at the school rather than paintings you are currently working on or have already finished."

"Of course." In the fickle art world, reputation was everything and she'd never take advantage of a client in that fashion. "What about the other five?"

"I wish those to be of a more personal nature. You have quite a talent for capturing a person's... essence... on canvas." He thought again of Erik's pain laid bare for all the world to see.

"Thank you."

"No thanks is necessary. You are exceedingly good at what you do." He smiled, echoing her earlier words. "I would not have invited you here had I thought otherwise, despite the fact you used to be my student." She smiled at that. "I wish these last five paintings to be a gift, one for each member of my senior staff. I can think of nothing I'd like more than to give back to each of them a bit of the inner fire they give to this school, to the children, and to the team on a daily basis."

She looked thoughtful. "Sometimes that 'inner fire' is hard for the subject to... appreciate." Sometimes because they just didn't see it themselves, and sometimes because what she saw was difficult for the subject to accept or to share with a larger audience. Although Erik's painting was the only one where she'd purposefully exposed a man's private torment to a public audience, not all of her paintings were 'pretty', emotionally speaking.

"I understand. I do not intend for these gifts to be given publicly."

"You should know that sometimes I can't find the fire and I would rather refuse a commission than paint something with no feeling."

"I appreciate your honesty." He poured them both more tea. "Let me be honest with you as well. From my discussion with your agent, I understand that to paint so true a picture of a person's heart, you must get to know the subject rather well, which I believe would necessitate your living at the school, at least during the formative stages of the creative process. Am I correct?"

"Yes." Her voice held a distinctly wary tone. "I usually spend a great deal of time familiarizing myself with the subject, whether it's a person or a landscape." She met his gaze again. "But I'm not sure that my living here, even for a short time, is a good idea. I appreciate what your team does, but I don't want to be a part of it. I didn't then and I don't now. I'm sorry."

"I understand. I wish only to retain your services as an artist." He paused, smiling a little apologetically. "And perhaps to mend a few broken fences... and if you would permit me, to get to know the woman you've become. There will be no pressure to join the team." The last was spoken decisively, with only the barest hint of disappointment.

Charles could tell she was wavering. "I would see to it you had a suite of rooms to yourself and the upstairs salon would make a lovely studio. I can ensure you will not be disturbed there if that is your wish." He knew a great many painters did not like anyone to see their work while it was in progress.

"Ever the hopeful, eh, Charles?" Erik's words slipped out before she could stop them.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "Indeed." There was a moment of awkward silence. "I could—"

"No. No pressure to join the team and no discussions about the people in my head or my 'gifts'." She wasn't naive enough to believe he didn't still harbor some hope she'd change her mind and join the team, but she knew he'd keep his word. He'd make sure there wouldn't be any overt pressure. "My other clients respect my privacy and I'd expect the same of you if I were to accept your proposal."

"I'm sorry. You are correct. Forgive me for suggesting otherwise."

Marie nodded, veering the subject back to the matter at hand. "You mentioned five senior staff?"

"Yes. Scott, Jean, Ororo and Henry you already know. Logan joined us after you left, and although he would prefer not to be at times, he is just as much a member of the team as the others." Charles chuckled softly. "He is a bit of an acquired taste, but we all owe him our lives many times over and he's got something of a golden touch with wayward children." An understatement to be sure. The man attracted strays like some sort of gruff, cigar-smoking pied piper.

"He sounds interesting."

"Of that you can be sure." He swallowed a droll chuckle.

"What's his mutation?"

Charles was silent a long moment, his fingers steepled in contemplation. When he answered, his voice was low and quiet. "He heals."

"Heals what? Other people?" That would make sense, considering Charles' earlier statement that Logan had saved their lives many times over. Marie knew first hand that not all missions ended prettily, just as she knew most 'gifts' did not come without a price.

"Not precisely." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Jean calls it 'uncharted regenerative capability'. To put it simply, he heals. From almost anything."

Marie's smile faded. "How sad."

Charles looked at her sharply. That wasn't a typical response, but then again, Rogue was far from 'typical' herself. "Sad?" He inquired softly.

Marie nodded. "Well, 'almost anything' would have had to have happened to him at one time or another for him to know he healed from it, wouldn't it?"

Charles was silent a beat too long and Marie could tell he was holding something else back. Interesting. "Quite right," he finally said, shrugging noncommittally. "He is also an intensely private man. Perhaps it would be best if I let you form your own opinions. I much prefer to see your honest take on him — on them all — rather than letting my perceptions cloud your artistic vision." And he was intensely interested in seeing how she'd translate Logan's fiery essence to a two dimensional canvas. He'd have sworn it couldn't be done at all were it not for the picture of Erik's bleeding heart hanging in his private study.

Her eyes darkened for a moment while she thought it over and she set the empty cup and saucer on his desk, absently smoothing her skirt. "That's the way I usually prefer to work."

He smiled. "Does that mean you have accepted my proposal?"

Clear, dark eyes met his and when she spoke, her words were carefully chosen. "Surely you know what a coup ten commissioned works from someone of your status would be for me - and what it would mean to my career."

A non-question and a non-answer; a very typical Rogue response. Charles swallowed a smile. "Yes. I am also aware you do not let the particulars of a given situation dictate your actions. You have always done what you wanted to do, Rogue." The last was spoken with more than a little respect. "And I am also well aware you have other offers on the table, a few of those from collectors with reputations that far exceed my own." Charles smiled and said simply, "You will choose to be here if, and only if, you wish to." He nodded pleasantly. "As it should be."

At his words, he saw her lips curl into a grin, the first smile he'd seen from her that touched her eyes as well as her mouth.

"What you're asking is almost unheard of." Ten paintings? However it sounded, they both were savvy enough to understand it wasn't only about the paintings.

"Indeed. I have always enjoyed blazing my own trail."

I remember.

She fought down Erik's memories of another time and another life. She had her own history to make now. Her own story to write and she refused to let either of them dictate the terms. The risk was too great.

"We both know what this would mean for me." She would be a fool not to jump at the chance. "But I'm not foolish enough to imagine this will be painless for either of us." It wasn't an offer that came without strings.

"Nothing worth doing is ever easy."

"I agree." That surprised him. "But I still wouldn't touch this job for less than double my regular fee."

He had expected a counteroffer, but not one that high. "Half."

"Double," she said again. "I know my paintings aren't worth that. Not yet. But they will be." The both knew it. "It's not that. It's all the rest of it. Call it compensation for pain and suffering if you want to."

"The rest?"

"You're asking for almost a year of my life. A year spent living here again. Dredging up those old memories. Putting up with the questions and the not so subtle attempts to motivate me towards joining the Black Leather Brigade."

"You have my word—"

"You don't speak for everyone and the last time I took your word at face value, I almost died. It took me years to put myself back together." It was more than she wanted to admit to him, but it was the truth. "Double. It's a lot, but it's more than fair for what you're asking." Sure, it would be a huge boon to her career, but they were both aware she didn't need his patronage now. Her star was already on the rise. It would happen more slowly without him, but it would happen.

He considered her words carefully. She was right. From her perspective, he'd played a critical part in an a very painful chapter of her life. Years, she'd said. Years to put herself back together. And now here he was wanting another year.

"Double," he said, nodding just once. Now was not the time to try to haggle, or to make amends.

Her smile returned, warm and vibrant. "I'll have my agent fax your secretary the necessary paperwork. One third of the payment is due when the contract is signed and the remainder is due when the last painting is delivered."

"Your check is already waiting with my secretary." All it lacked was the amount to be filled in. A warmth lit his eyes. "And no, I was not being overly presumptions, merely... hopeful." His use of 'Erik's' word did not go unnoticed. "I will have your rooms prepared immediately, and you may move in whenever you like."

"I'll need a few days to get everything settled on my end." Her mind was already busy making a list of all the things she'd need to take care of.

"Of course." Charles smiled. "I will inform the staff that you will be joining us for some months while you get a feel for this place and the people living here." He paused. "And I will make sure they are aware that the subject of joining the team is not to be broached under any circumstances." Marie nodded as he continued, "I will also inform the students that an artist will be joining us to do some work for the school, and I will, with your permission, disclose the nature of your mutation so that there will no unpleasant... mishaps... during your stay with us."

"Thank you."

"I would also like to make it clear that while I will inform my staff that I have commissioned you to do several works, I would prefer they not know some of the pieces are intended to be personal gifts."

Marie smiled. "It won't be a problem. Whatever you want to tell them about that is completely up to you. I pretty much just need to hang around and talk with them a little. Get to know them again. Nothing intrusive. As far as the actual painting is concerned, I'll probably start with the ones for the school first and finish those here. That will give me the time to get to know everyone as well as I can. As for the other paintings, I'll begin the preliminary work on them here and finish them in my studio downtown. I probably won't need to stay here the full nine months, just long enough to get a real feel for things."

"I will leave that decision up to you. You may stay as long as you like." A bell rang faintly in the distance and Charles smiled as he checked his watch. "As it seems our business is concluded, would you care to join me for lunch? Most of the staff will probably be there."

"Most?"

Charles chuckled. "Yes. Scott, Jean and Ororo will probably make an appearance. Occasionally — well, more than occasionally — Henry gets so involved down in the lab he forgets all about eating."

"I see that hasn't changed." Henry, or Hank, as he'd been to her, had always put his love of knowledge above his need for food. Well, that and Marie figured he still kept a substantial Twinkie stash down in the lab. He might miss a meal, but he didn't exactly go hungry.

"It most certainly has not." Charles replaced his cup in the saucer. "As for Logan, he rarely dines with us. He prefers to eat alone." His brow furrowed momentarily as a thought occurred to him. "As did you, if memory serves."

Marie shrugged lightly. "I still felt awkward eating with the gloves and it made most of the others too nervous when I took them off."

Her honest answer caught him off guard and he stiffened briefly. Not wanting to make an uneasy moment even more so, Charles forced himself to relax and keep his voice even as he responded to her surprisingly personal revelation. "In all the times we spoke, you never told me that."

"There was a lot I didn't tell you back then." Marie smiled to soften her words.

"I'm sorry. I should have realized—"

"Don't be too hard on yourself. We both did the best we could back then, Charles." Marie stood, clearly ready to end discussion on the topic. "It's okay, really. It's all in the past and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"I understand." He wished that were not the case, but he knew he couldn't push her. This tentative relationship needed to move along at a pace she was comfortable with or it wouldn't move at all, and he was quite surprised she'd made even a single mention of an incident from their shared past. Perhaps this was one fence he'd be able to mend after all.

"Thank you." Marie smiled warmly. "And I would take you up on your offer for lunch, but I have an appointment with another client." She laughed lightly. "An appointment I've got to keep if you're going to monopolize all my time for the next several months."

"Very well. I will see you in a few days then, Rogue."

With a nod and a few last pleasantries, she took her leave, checking to be sure she was alone in the hall before giving a silent 'Whoop!' and a hugely unprofessional, yet totally exuberant, jump for joy. Ten paintings! Sure, she was going to have to give up a lot of her much-valued privacy and face some rather unpleasant memories by returning here, but ten paintings? At DOUBLE her going rate? She couldn't believe it. She spun around giddily one last time before composing herself. Ten paintings. Pretty damn good for someone who'd spent two years living hand-to-mouth on the streets while she got her head on straight.

She stopped briefly to leave the pertinent details with Charles' secretary and to pick up her check, and then she was on the road. The miles rolled by unnoticed as she made a quick call to her agent to share the good news. Still giddy, she hit the end button and tossed her cell phone into the passenger seat, both thrilled and apprehensive about what the coming months would bring.

Up next: The Wolverine. Enter the Wolverine. Logan and Charles have words about their new guest...