t i m e ' s . f o o l

Time's Fool
[by victoria p.]

Rating: R - language

Summary: "Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks / Within his bending sickle's compass come: / Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, / But bears it out even to the edge of doom."

Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete, Dot, Melissa, Laura and Meg for their support and for the beta. Thanks to Gables for the help when I was stuck.

Lots more notes at the end.

Date: March 10, 2002

1. The Sex Apartment

Rogue fumbled with the keys to Logan's apartment, struggling to keep the heavy laundry bag upright. "The things I do for you, Logan," she muttered, as she turned the key and heard the tumblers click. She opened the door and her eyes widened at the unexpected sight before her.

There was a blonde woman, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, splayed out on Logan's couch. And Rogue knew she wasn't a natural blonde, because she'd just gotten a pretty good view of the woman's goodies.

The blonde was just as shocked. She jumped up and tugged at the hem of the t-shirt, which barely brushed the tops of her thighs.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

Rogue thought furiously. Over the years, she'd been afraid this might happen -- Logan only kept this apartment so that he didn't have to bring his women to the mansion. But she'd never actually met one of them, so they'd always seemed a little unreal.

"Cleaning service," she croaked, which wasn't entirely untrue. <I do his cleaning and his laundry, and pick up his mail when he's jackassing around the country,> she thought, trying to ignore the woman as she headed into the bedroom with the laundry bag.

She wrinkled her nose at the heavy scent of sex that lingered there. The sheets were a mess, the comforter on the floor. She sighed; she hated making the bed. She knew he'd do it if she didn't -- he was a neat-freak, probably a leftover from his time in the military -- but she really needed to get those sheets off. The smell of him mixed with the blonde was bothering her immensely.

"He just went out to get some cigars," the blonde said, having followed her. "I didn't believe him when he told me it was the maid's day off, but I guess he wasn't lying."

Rogue bit her tongue. She knew he was just joking when he said stuff like that, but she wasn't exactly thrilled to be relegated to "maid" status. Though maybe if she wore that sexy outfit... <Stop it, Rogue. He's never seen you as a woman, and he's not going to start now. You're over it, girl. Stay that way.> But she couldn't help it. Her first long-term relationship had broken up a few months ago, and she was still feeling the loss. Greg had moved away from the mansion, and she didn't have to see him every day, but the wounds on her heart were still fresh. Especially considering he was still calling her, wanting his stuff back. As if she had any desire to keep his stupid Grateful Dead CDs. She didn't even *like* the Dead.

She leaned the laundry bag against the dresser, forgetting all about the sheets. She couldn't be here when Logan came home. It was bad enough that he'd know she'd been here at all. "I'll be back at a more convenient time," she told the blonde, brushing past her and going to the door.

"I'm Christine," the blonde said. "Have you worked for him long?"

Rogue closed her eyes for a moment. Dear God, did the woman actually want to have a conversation?

"On and off over the past few years," she answered. "Helped pay my college tuition." Which wasn't strictly true. Logan would have happily paid whatever was necessary, if the Professor hadn't, without ever asking for anything in return, but she'd felt the need to give something back. Hence, the laundry and the cleaning and, on rare occasions, the cooking she did for him. She felt like laughing; she did all the wifely chores, without any wifely benefits.

And she was not going to think about that. It wasn't worth the grief it caused.

"What service are you with? Because my roommate and I could really use--"

The door swung open, nearly knocking Rogue off her feet.

***

Logan stood in the hallway, listening to Rogue and the blonde -- what was her name again? -- speak. <Christine. Oh, yeah. Okay.>

He flinched when he heard Rogue say she cleaned for him to pay her tuition. He knew she didn't like taking handouts from anybody -- she'd been an independent little thing before she ever got a dose of him in her head -- but he never thought she'd seen it in such black and white terms. He was a little queasy at the idea.

He opened the door when he heard Christine try to hire her. "She's quit the cleaning service. Ain't that right, kid?" he said, taking in the stunned looks on both women's faces.

"I, um, yeah. You're my last," <and only>, "client. The laundry is in the bedroom," she finished, pushing past him into the hallway.

"I'll see you later?" he asked, grabbing her arm.

"Call me when you're going out," she replied. "And I'll finish up." It wasn't the answer he wanted, but he grunted and let her go.

***

She was fumbling with the lighter when Jubilee found her.

"Hey, chica, what's up? I thought you gave up the cancer sticks."

Rogue sighed. "Yeah."

"Something happen at the sex apartment?"

No matter how many times they called it that, it always managed to make her smile. "There was a woman there," she said, proud her voice was level. Jubilee knew how long and hard she'd worked to get over Logan. She wouldn't be happy with any backsliding, though she'd understand.

"Well, it'd be kinda hard to have a sex apartment without someone to have sex with," Jubes said reasonably.

That drew a reluctant chuckle. "I suppose," Rogue conceded. "It's just never happened before."

Jubilee's finely-shaped eyebrows rose. "You're telling me that in the six years you've 'done' (as my mother would say) for Logan, you've never run into any of the women he's -- doing?"

Again, Rogue had to laugh at her friend's phrasing. "Nope. Usually he's not even there. I go in, drop off the clean clothes, pick up the dirty ones, dust, vacuum and get out. Just like the maid. In fact, that's what he told her about the mess in the apartment. 'Maid's day off.' Shit. That's what I am to him?"

Jubilee didn't fail to notice the bitter twist Rogue gave her last words. She put an arm around the other woman's shoulders. "You know you're more than just the maid, Rogue. The man would give his left nut for you if he had to."

Rogue snorted. "I know. It's just -- It hit me right in the face today. It doesn't matter that I'm twenty-four instead of seventeen. He's always gonna see me as that scared kid he picked up on the side of the road.

"When I was with Greg, it didn't matter. But that fell apart and reality hit. I'm untouchable, and no man is ever gonna want to spend his life with a woman he can't fully *be* with."

Jubilee cursed under her breath, wishing once again that Greg hadn't left so she could kill him for what he'd done -- unintentionally maybe, but he'd still done it -- to her best friend.

Greg had been witty, tall and handsome. He'd swept Rogue off her feet within a month of his arrival at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters three years ago. He was a physician's assistant, hired to help Jean and Hank with the routine medical problems a school with large numbers of accident-prone children would have.

After two and a half years -- very good years, Rogue had thought -- he'd become disenchanted with never being able to touch his lover without some barrier between them. Harsh words had been said, and when he took a job in Baltimore, he didn't invite Rogue to come along and share his life, as she'd been expecting. She'd spent a good month crying and calling him, begging him to take her back. She was a little ashamed at how desperate she'd been. But he was the first man who hadn't been afraid of her mutation, who'd seemed willing to work around it. Until he got tired of the whole "sex-through-the sheets" deal.

Jubilee could see the direction in which her friend's thoughts were heading. She sighed. "Come on, Roguey -- I've got a half-gallon of Chunky Monkey with your name on it."

***

Later that afternoon, Scott rummaged through the freezer and sighed.

All of it -- his entire stash of Chunky Monkey -- was gone.

He definitely had to talk to Jean again about a refrigerator in their suite. His personal ice cream store -- his only real food weakness -- turned up missing far too often for his liking.

He supposed it was to be expected. A place housing three dozen angst-filled adolescents, as well as numerous adults in various stages of coupling and uncoupling, was *bound* to go through a ton of ice cream. But the Chunky Monkey was *his*, and everyone knew it. It was like stealing Logan's beer or Hank's Twinkies -- it just wasn't *done*.

Except that -- unlike in those two cases -- it was.

Another sigh as he settled for the vanilla fudge swirl and began scooping it into a bowl.

He was back in the freezer when Jubilee came in with the mostly empty carton of *his* ice cream.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, like some bad imitation of Hercules Poirot. "I should have known it'd be you!"

She handed him the ice cream, and he added what was left to his bowl, noticing the two spoons she held.

"Who is it this time?" he inquired.

"How do you know it's not me?" she asked indignantly. "Just because I'm naturally perky and always cracking wise doesn't mean I don't have bad days, Scott, days where a whole heaping helping of Chunky Monkey hits the spot."

He tried to hide his grin and failed. "Because when you have bad days, Jubes, there's stuff blowing up all over the mansion."

She chuckled, dropping her drama queen pose. "Yeah, you're right." Her expression turned thoughtful as she put the spoons in the dishwasher. She turned back to him and leaned against the counter.

"It's Rogue."

He frowned. "Did that bastard," short-hand for Greg among Rogue's friends, "call again?"

"What do you mean, call *again*?" she demanded.

"I mean, he called her this morning, wanting to know if she had his Grateful Dead CDs."

Jubilee sucked in a breath. "Did she talk to him?"

He shook his head. "Jean took the message. Rogue went out right after--"

"To the sex apartment," Jubilee interrupted.

Scott rubbed his forehead. "Please don't tell me--"

Jubilee nodded. "There was a woman there. Logan introduced Rogue as the maid."

"Son. Of. A. *Bitch.*"

Scott and Rogue were as close as two people who weren't blood kin or lovers could be. After she'd overcome the vestiges of Logan's dislike for Scott, she'd taken to following him around, learning about all the things he did at the mansion that none of the other students seemed interested in.

He helped her get over that first crush on Logan, providing a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, taught her to pilot the Blackbird, and spent countless hours with her, refurbishing old cars and motorcycles. It was the one activity during which he and Logan seemed to co-exist peacefully. Their protectiveness of Rogue was one of the few things they completely agreed on.

When she'd decided to major in engineering, he'd been thrilled, helping her when things got rough and generally being the big brother she'd never had. Between him and Logan, Rogue's dates rarely made repeat appearances -- if her mutation didn't scare them off, her protectors did.

Until Greg.

Logan hadn't liked him -- the young man had been human, and therefore, not to be trusted -- but Scott had been happy that Rogue had finally found someone who loved the woman she had become. Until things went bad between them.

His face was grim as he said, "Logan and I are going to have a little chat when he gets back."

Jubilee was secretly delighted. One, it meant that Logan would at least get beat up some for his thoughtlessness ("little chats" almost always wound up as sparring sessions between the two men), and two, once Scott got involved, things would start happening to help Rogue. She was kind of vague on what "things" exactly would be helpful, but whatever they were, Scott would think of them and put them into action.

And if he didn't, well, there was always Hank.

Mission accomplished, she left the Fearless Leader of the X-Men in the kitchen, eating a bowl of melting ice cream and plotting to cheer up his "little sister."

When he was done, he had an idea. It wasn't a brilliant idea. No one would be confusing him with Hank any time soon, but he thought it would work.

He went in search of his fiancée, who was up to her neck in wedding arrangements.

They were finally taking the plunge. Another sigh. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

This was the third wedding they'd planned, and he prayed it would come off without a hitch. He was starting to get a complex.

The first time, five years ago, the evil mutant Mastermind had interfered, kidnapping Jean the night of her bachelorette party and forcing her to assume the persona of the Black Queen. Scott still had the occasional nightmare about that one.

The second time, two years ago, her father had passed away a week before the big day, and everyone understood their wish to postpone the ceremony until the bride and her mother were somewhat recovered from their loss.

No one expected life to get in the way, pushing the date back a full two years. Now the wedding was nine months away and he was already on edge about it. He swore, loudly and repeatedly, that if it didn't happen this time, he was carrying her off to Vegas and getting married by an Elvis impersonator, whether she wanted to or not.

Jean was sitting in the solarium, poring over menus.

"Isn't it a little early for that?" he asked, standing behind her and rubbing her shoulders.

She pushed the hair off her face and removed her glasses. "Yes, but time has a way of getting away from us, if you haven't noticed. I want to have as much of this done as early as possible."

"We could still opt for the elopement," he said. "Take a cruise, get married onboard by the captain. They can still do that, right? Or hit Vegas one weekend?"

She smiled at his decided lack of enthusiasm for her big wedding plans. She couldn't blame him, after the last two times.

"So," she said, leaning back against him and closing her eyes, enjoying the impromptu massage, "what's this brilliant plan of yours? If it's got anything to do with booby-trapping the freezer, you can count me out."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "I'm projecting, huh?"

"Oh, yeah."

"It's Rogue. And I don't know if I'd call it a *brilliant* plan, but I think it'll work. We need to start getting her out of the house. Maybe she could meet some guys, go on some dates, instead of sitting around here moping all day and--"

"Eating your ice cream." Jean sighed and Scott thought there seemed to be a lot of that going around lately. "It's only been a couple of months, Scott. Do you really think she's ready--"

"Alex is visiting next week," he interrupted. He didn't say any more, just let the thoughts he'd been having in the kitchen flow over the link between them.

He imagined his younger brother taking out the woman whom he considered a younger sister, making her laugh again.

Jean took his hand from her shoulder and pressed it to her lips.

"Bringing in the big guns, huh?"

"Well, I know he's not seeing anyone since Lorna ran off with her thesis advisor. Even if they don't, you know, fall in love, I think they'd at least be good for each other. First off, they don't have to do any of that awkward getting to know you crap, since they already know each other."

"And he won't be intimidated by you and Logan glaring at him if he brings her home in the middle of the night," she said dryly, remembering one particularly disastrous evening.

"Hey, I told that guy to have her home by midnight. It's not *my* fault he didn't listen."

The young man in question had brought Rogue home at three a.m., drunk and sick. He'd been greeted by two very worried X-Men, their worry quickly transforming into anger. After an icy chewing out from Cyclops and an impressive display of carving from Wolverine, the guy had never called again.

The damage to the foyer had cost a couple thousand dollars to fix, but that was one time Scott didn't begrudge Logan his penchant for destroying the furniture.

Jean laughed. "Well, fairy godfather, I guess you can try your magic again."

"Fairy is right," Logan growled, stomping into the room. "Where the hell is Rogue?"

Which reminded Scott that he needed to have a chat -- <more like a shouting match,> he thought -- with the gruff Canadian.

"Are you sure you wanna marry this punk?" Logan continued, leering amiably at Jean. "You and me could still run away together, Jeannie. I got a little place down in Enseneda--"

Jean laughed, knowing he wasn't serious.

When he'd first come back to Westchester, a mere six weeks after leaving to search for his past at Alkali Lake, he'd been relentless in his pursuit of her.

While tempted on occasion, she'd let him know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't leaving her darling Scott, and certainly not for something as fleeting as a roll in the hay with him. Over the years, he'd settled into his role as her perpetually unrequited suitor.

She noted that his supposed love for her hadn't precluded his involvement -- seriously once or twice -- with other women. Hence the sex apartment.

But after the first couple of years, she'd sensed a change in his feelings. Yes, he was still attracted to her, but where once he'd been fierce in his passion and bitter in his disappointment, now he was simply playing a part. He was expected to hit on her and yearn for her tragically, so he did, with a twinkle in his eye and a half-grin on his face. She suspected he was more excited about taunting Scott than he was about flirting with her.

The passage of time had eased his feelings, and she knew -- even if he didn't (and she wondered sometimes, in exasperation, when he would clue in) -- that his superficial "love" for her had been supplanted by far deeper feelings for Rogue.

And she was pretty sure Rogue returned his feelings, Greg notwithstanding.

But there was nothing she could do if they chose to remain oblivious. She'd never mentioned her suspicions to Scott -- she wasn't sure how he'd react to the idea of Logan and Rogue as a couple, even after all these years -- and she didn't bring it up now.

Scott, who'd already been irked by Logan's callousness in regard to Rogue, only grew more annoyed watching him hit on Jean.

"Where is Rogue?" he repeated Logan's question, his voice cutting. "Why? Did you find dust bunnies under the couch this morning?"

Logan's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You know, did the *maid* not do a good enough job? Did your *friend* complain about the state of your apartment?"

Jean raised an eyebrow. It was unlike Scott to lose control like this, though when it did happen, it was usually Logan on the receiving end of it.

"She fucking told you? Jesus Christ, Cyke, do you think I'd treat Marie like that? Like she's the fucking hired help? I thought you knew better."

"So did I," Scott replied, slightly mollified by Logan's use of his pet name for Rogue. No one else, not even Scott, called her Marie. Only Logan used it regularly. She hadn't shared that name with any of them for almost a year, and even then, they'd only learned it because Logan would ask for her by that name and no one knew who he was talking about. "And no, she didn't tell me. She told Jubes."

Logan growled. That was almost worse. If Marie had confided in Scott, that meant he was in for a lecture, which would lead to a fight, which would be fun. But she'd told Jubilee. Which mean he was in for a week of watching his back, because Jubilee wouldn't lecture, he'd just end up with Nair in his shampoo bottle or water in his gas tank.

"Shit."

And he stomped off before Scott could get a good head of steam up on his lecturing.

"That was no fun," Scott pouted.

Jean laughed. "No, but I can think of a few things to take your mind off it." She stood and kissed him lightly.

He didn't have to think twice. "Okay."

He took her hand and led her to their bedroom, all thoughts of Rogue and Logan forgotten.

***

"Lemme in, kid."

"It's open," she called, her voice muffled.

He slipped into the room, vaguely disturbed by the fact that the shades were drawn and no lights were on. Marie was bundled into her comforter, her eyes puffy and red from crying. He closed the door quietly and stood, unsure, at the foot of the bed. Once again, he wished he could kill Greg -- kill him a lot -- but he didn't think it would make her feel any better.

And his own assholery that morning only compounded the problem.

"Hey," he said finally, at a loss for words.

She raised an eyebrow, a gesture that had begun in imitation of him, but one she'd made her own over the years. It was far more effective on her than it had any right to be, he thought, considering he'd perfected it while she was still in diapers.

Which was a train of thought he really didn't want to ride. That was one of his problems with the whole "having feelings for Marie" thing he'd been wrestling with since she was seventeen. Reminders of the huge age gap between them only made him feel even guiltier than he normally did for thinking of her sexually.

"Look, this morning -- you know I was joking, right?" No response, no change in her expression, just puffy, red eyes and one raised eyebrow. "About the maid thing. I never thought of you like that. You know that, right?"

She sighed, and he felt his stomach drop. That couldn't be good. "I know. You know, not everything is about you, Logan. I'm not sixteen anymore. I'm not hiding in my room crying over you!"

"Well," he paced awkwardly around the room, "I just wanted to make sure you knew. I mean, that I wasn't serious." He cursed the night that changed his relationship with Rogue. They were still friends, but nowhere near as close as they'd been before. He longed for the days when things between them were simple -- she wore his dog tags and was madly in love with him, and he pretended to be oblivious, while keeping her all to himself.

That had changed the night of her twenty-first birthday, when she'd demanded to know, after four beers and far more tequila than could possibly be healthy for anyone without a healing factor, why he didn't want her.

In trying to prove that that wasn't so, that he *did* want her, things had gone a little further than he'd planned, and he'd pulled back. He hadn't wanted to take advantage of her drunken state, and he was still confused about his feelings for her, for Jean, for the woman he'd been seeing on and off for three months at that point.

Rogue had taken that rejection to heart, though. Soon after, Greg had come to the mansion, and he'd lost any shot at explaining to her what exactly he'd been thinking when he'd pushed her away after their kisses had grown heated in the alley behind the Auger Inn. Kisses, shit -- he'd had her up against the wall, her shirt open to the waist, her legs around his hips, and his hand down her jeans before he'd come to his senses.

Of course, it was his own fault for running after that. Four months away to figure things out, and she'd had a new boyfriend when he got back.

Which just proved that he'd done the right thing that night. If she could move on so quickly, she hadn't really been in love with him, and he'd have been doubly damned, taking advantage of a drunk young woman who had a crush on him.

"I know, Logan, it's just -- sometimes I wish things were back the way they used to be." He'd stopped being startled long ago by her ability to voice exactly what he was thinking. "Why does everything have to change? Greg and I were happy." Okay, so maybe not *exactly* what he was thinking, but close enough.

"Hey, hey, none of that. He was a shit, Marie. He didn't realize how good he had it, and when he does figure it out -- if he's even smart enough -- he'll be regretting it for the rest of his life. By then, you'll be with someone else, someone who knows how to treat you right."

"I suppose," she said, but she didn't sound convinced.

He opened his mouth, but then realized he had nothing to say -- nothing that wouldn't cause problems of another sort. He could admit he wanted her himself, but he wasn't willing to give her the commitment she needed, deserved. There was still too much he didn't know about himself, his past, and he wasn't ready to saddle her with all his baggage. Yet.

"I'll see you at dinner?" was what he came up with. Not high on the comfort scale. <Bang up job, there, asshole,> he told himself.

She shrugged. "Just ate a ton of ice cream with Jubes, so I doubt it."

"I think Doug is making the quesadillas you like so much."

She smiled half-heartedly and he wished he could gather her in his arms and rock her until she felt better, but he knew he would never be able to stop touching her once he started, and that just wouldn't do right now.

He settled for brushing his lips lightly over hers, so quickly that her skin couldn't react. He hoped she got the message, even if he couldn't verbalize it. He figured he had some time; she was still getting over Greg, so he had a little while to get things straight in his head.

"I'll stop by later and see if you've changed your mind."

She nodded and he left, feeling very unsatisfied with the way the conversation had gone.

He still had two hours until dinner, so he headed down to the Danger Room for a work out -- the one surefire way of getting his mind of all this emotional crap he hated dealing with.

***

Two hours later, Logan raised his hand to knock at Rogue's door when he heard Scott's voice.

"It'll be better soon, Rogue. Trust me."

"I know. I know. But I hate it. I hate sneaking in and out. I hate feeling this way, like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I want to get it all out in the open, but--"

Logan froze. What the hell was going on?

"I know you do, and I understand. I thought you weren't going to do this to yourself anymore. I thought we agreed -- it's nobody's fault; it's just the way things are."

"But Scott--"

"Look, it'll be better after the wedding, I promise. Different. You'll see."

"Oh, God, the wedding." Rogue sounded like she was ready to cry again. Logan was even more puzzled; Rogue had been an enthusiastic participant in each of the weddings Jean had planned. Why wouldn't she be happy now? "Great, Scott. Make me feel guilty."

"There's nothing to feel guilty about, Rogue. If you talked to Jean--"

"No. I can't. I feel like such a bitch."

"You can't control who you fall in love with, Rogue. She knows that as well as I do. I wish, I wish I could do more."

"I wish you could make these feelings go away. God, Scott, why now? Why?"

Logan walked away, stunned. Rogue had feelings for *Scott*? When the hell did that happen? And how had he missed it?

He had to get out. The idea of Marie with Scott was sickening. He was like her *brother*, for God's sake.

He pulled out the bag he always had prepared for such occasions, and left Chuck a brief note. They were used to his disappearances by now. No one would question it or ask what had sent him off into the night again.

He cursed himself for being blind, for not paying closer attention, for not being around when she needed him. Most of all, though, he cursed whatever fate that had somehow allowed Marie to fall out of love with him and in love with Scott, just when --

He stopped, knowing he was still not able to take that thought to its logical conclusion. He'd shied away from it too many times. Dammit, he couldn't give her what she needed; he'd accepted that for the time being, and thought she had too. He never expected her to turn to Scooter instead.

Though it made a perverse kind of sense. Rogue liked men who were older, who were protective, and who could hold their own in a fight. Summers was all three, and polished in ways Logan never would be.

Shit, he was also the most pussywhipped man Logan had ever met, so damn whipped he *enjoyed* it. He knew Scott loved Jean, so what the *fuck* was he doing trying to comfort Marie, telling her to talk to Jean about it?

These thoughts and others like them tormented him at night for the next three months, until a cryptic remark from Jean brought him running home.

"It's driving me crazy, Logan," she'd said when he called in, and he could hear the strain underneath her laughter. "It's Rogue this and Rogue that and we have to take care of Rogue. I love her, I do, but Scott's going a little overboard."

<Jesus,> he thought as he headed back to New York, this could only end with Rogue, and Jean, getting hurt. If that happened, ol' One-Eye would find himself facing six very deadly claws, and one very pissed off Wolverine.

***

2. Rogue's Gallery

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, everyone tried to cheer Rogue up as she moped around. Every week, Scott tried to convince her to go out. He enlisted her friends to help. Since Kitty, Bobby, Johnny and Jubes had all gone to college in "the real world," they had friends outside the mansion. Single, male friends who were always interested in dating a beautiful woman, even if there were certain caveats attached.

Finally, to stop them all from badgering her incessantly, and in the vain hope that she'd meet someone who would help her forget Greg *and* Logan, she agreed to go out with a friend of Jubilee's.

His name was Jay and he'd worked with Jubes at The Gap while they were in college. Since he was living in the city, they'd kept in touch, and when Jubilee called him, she found out he was single and looking.

He took Rogue to a nice French brasserie in Manhattan, and while he wasn't the best-looking guy she'd ever seen, he was cute in a nebbishy way. She thought, as she ordered chicken française and a Caesar salad, that she could learn to like him.

Until he asked her, in the middle of the entrée, if she'd accepted Jesus Christ as her personal savior, and did she want to attend services with him on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Given that she'd pretty much stopped believing in gods of any sort the day she put David in a coma, this was a problem. She didn't much care what other people believed, but she certainly wasn't going to be preached at.

She skipped dessert and refused his offer of a ride back to Westchester.

On the train going home, she began a list of characteristics she did *not* want in a date. "Jesus freak" was number one with a bullet.

The next week, it was St. John's turn to set her up, and that date started well. His name was Sebastian and he was from Portugal. He had a soft accent she found sexy, and soulful eyes that made her heart flutter slightly.

They discussed movies and music over dinner, and she'd just ordered dessert when he said, "When John told me you were a mutant, I got really excited." She raised an eyebrow as he continued, "I only date mutant women. I like the danger, the taboo. And also, who wouldn't want to move up the evolutionary ladder?" He reached out a hand to stroke one of the white locks that framed her face; she shrank away from him. "Are you really untouchable?"

The waiter arrived with their coffee and dessert then, and she decided she didn't really want the crème brulée after all -- could they wrap it to go?

Item number two on the list: No mutant fetishists.

The next week, it was Kurt's turn. Karl seemed nice. He was incredibly handsome in a very blond, German sort of way. They'd met for coffee, since she hadn't had much luck with dinner, and she opened her mouth to suggest that maybe they could grab a cocktail at the bar next door, when she sneezed. Three times. She'd always been a "three-sneezer," as Jubilee called it; no one else had ever commented on it, until tonight.

Karl leaned in and said, "You know, women who have multiple sneezes also have multiple orgasms."

"Check, please," Rogue called, and left him sitting there alone.

Number three on the list was, "No guys who use lame or sleazy pickup lines."

When she told that to Scott, he laughed. "You'll have to give up on men altogether."

"That's not sounding so bad right now," she answered darkly.

She resisted the next few set-up attempts, and a month passed without any more dates. She'd never been quite so grateful for the Friends of Humanity, until their stepping up of attacks on mutants meant that the X-Men were too busy fighting to worry about her love life.

Unfortunately, the X-Men always won, so it wasn't long before they began focusing on her dating woes again.

This time, she had a little more hope. She checked her lipstick in the mirror as he drove them to a little "out-of-the-way" Mexican restaurant he'd chosen. He was a colleague of Jean's; they'd met at a conference and kept up an email correspondence on advances in genetics research.

Ben made it all the way through dinner -- including dessert -- but when the movie they'd picked was sold out, he tried to convince her to go back to his apartment to watch videos. Since he winked every time he said it, Rogue was pretty sure he didn't actually want to watch videos. Or maybe, she thought in horrified amusement, he did, but not the kind of videos she'd normally consider first date material.

She figured she could handle anything he tried, so she went home with him. And found she'd guessed correctly. Instead of "Roman Holiday" or "The Truth About Cats and Dogs," he put on "The Erotic Adventures of Jessyca Juggs." She easily disengaged herself from his wandering hands and called Scott to come and get her.

Item number four: "No guys who break out the porno on the first date."

When she got into the car, Scott said, "If you'd just go out with Alex, none of this would happen. I can't believe you went home with the guy on the first date."

"Could I please buckle my seatbelt before you start the lecture?" she asked sourly. He grinned and she said, "Tell Jean to stay away from this guy at her next conference. I think he's a big-time perv."

It took one last setup -- this time a double date with Bobby and Kitty, during which Rogue's date spent the whole night fawning over Kitty -- to get Rogue to put her foot down.

She said no to every setup, every "friend of a friend," every "he's the perfect guy for you."

"I don't need a boyfriend," she told them all in exasperation. "I'm very happy with my Aqua All-Star!"

That shut everyone up for a moment. They stared at her and she blushed. Then, she drew herself up to her full height; she had nothing to be ashamed of. It was the twenty-first century and a woman has needs, after all.

"We're just trying to help," Jubilee said weakly.

"Well, stop! With this kind of 'help', I may just join the Brotherhood! I don't need your help. I don't *want* your help. I just want to be left alone!" And she stormed out of the rec room in tears.

Scott and Jean exchanged worried glances, and he rose to follow her. Jean's hand on his arm forestalled him. ~I'll go,~ she said silently, and he nodded, the concerned look not leaving his face.

"We've been pushing you pretty hard," she began when Rogue opened the door. "I'm sorry."

"Is it so totally freakish that I might want to be alone for a while?" Rogue asked plaintively.

"No. It's not. I don't know when it became unacceptable for a woman to be single around here." Jean sat down on the edge of the bed and Rogue joined her. She took Rogue's hand in her own and said, "Before Scott and I got together, I was convinced I was destined to be alone. And that was all right with me. I learned the hard way that no relationship at all is better than a bad one."

"But Warren, Hank--"

Jean laughed. "You've been listening to history according to Cyclops again, huh? Yes, Warren and I dated for a while, and Hank supposedly had a crush on me, but that all changed the moment 'Ro walked in the door.

"I was suddenly boring, old Jean who they'd known forever, while she was exotic -- beautiful and unknown." Rogue raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Yes, Rogue, it's true. I did not have much success in the romance department until Scott finally got his head out of his ass and asked me out. So I understand what you're going through. It's just--" she paused to choose her words, "you don't seem happy alone. If you did, even Scott would back off. But until you can convince him that you're better off by yourself, he's going to try to 'help' you, even if sometimes his 'help' only makes thing worse."

Rogue snorted. "I know. I've tried to be cheerful, but it's like, 'Oh, Greg left, you should be dating again.' Can't I just have some time to get over it? And the whole Logan thing--" she broke off.

Jean smiled knowingly. "Yeah, the Logan thing. You think you might want to do something about that?"

Rogue shook her head. "There's nothing *to* do about it, except deal with it and move on."

"But you haven't dealt with it at all, if it's still there," Jean said reasonably.

"I'm *trying*, okay? It's just -- do I have an invisible sign on my forehead that reads, 'Losers, step right up. Regular guys, don't bother'?" She laughed bitterly. "I mean, I know Logan doesn't want me. And I got over that a long time ago. Then he goes and *does* something--" again, she stopped, afraid of saying too much. Jean wore her open, 'you can tell me anything' expression that made her the favorite confidante of all young mutants in love at the mansion, wishing she could justify telling Rogue her theory on Logan's behavior, but knowing that it would only cause trouble.

Rogue pulled her hand away from Jean's and stood. "He kissed me before he left. Not on the top of my head, like usual. He kissed me here," and she laid two gloved fingers over her lips. "Not hard and not long. Not like be-- not like Greg used to," she recovered quickly, piquing Jean's curiosity as to just when exactly Logan had been kissing Rogue long and hard. She cast her mind back and tried to recall when things had changed between them; the advent of Greg seemed to be the turning point, which would make a lot of sense. She wondered if Logan had pushed her too far, or not far enough, because something had obviously seriously undermined Rogue's confidence in her attractiveness to the opposite sex, even before this recent heartbreak.

"Oh, hon, it'll all work out in the end. You'll see," Jean said, trying to offer comfort, when she really *wasn't* sure that it would. Logan was a hardheaded man, and not because of the adamantium plates in his skull. She wanted to shake him sometimes for his obliviousness to what was so obvious to her.

"If you say so," Rogue muttered, unconvinced. "As long as I don't have to have coffee with another friend of Bobby's..."

"I'll keep a tight rein on them," Jean promised.

"Even Scott?"

Jean grinned wickedly. "Especially Scott."

"Okay, Red, that was a little more than I needed to know."

Jean's smile softened and she ran a hand over the white streak in Rogue's hair. "Now, what's this you were saying about the Aqua All-Star?"

"You have Scott!" Rogue answered, blushing, and the mood was lightened.

Unfortunately, Scott was more determined to get Rogue together with Alex than even Jean had guessed. While he no longer pressed Rogue on the issue more than once or twice every few days, he harangued Jean with it every time he saw Rogue looking mildly unhappy.

And since Rogue seemed to specialize in looking melancholy, even when she pretended to be happy, Jean was almost at the end of her rope. She might have 'accidentally' let that slip when she spoke with Logan a couple of weeks later.

He was home in three days.

***

3. Philately

The evening of Logan's return, Scott sat down next to Rogue at dinner. There was nothing weird in that; it was the look he gave her that made her tense. There was going to be A Talk. She could feel it.

"Do you like philately?" he asked, surprising her.

Her eyes widened. "Fella -- what?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "Stamp collecting. Philately. Alex likes it."

He was still trying to set her up with his brother. She sighed internally. "Kinda geeky, ain't it?" she asked, putting on the tough girl persona that most people thought of as the real Rogue.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And for you to say that, it must be *really* geeky," she teased.

"Rogue!"

"Well, you know you're the leader of the X-Geeks," she said, "the geekiest geek of 'em all." She couldn't hold the straight face, though, and the two of them burst into laughter, causing all heads in the dining room to turn toward them.

Most people thought it was sweet, the way Rogue and Scott had become close friends. Logan was not most people. He watched from the doorway and then stalked out, preferring a beer and a cigar to watching his girl fawn all over Scooter.

He didn't get it. He knew, from painful experience, that Jean and Scott were as solid a couple as he'd ever met, but Rogue seemed hellbent on falling for Scott and getting her heart broken.

He sucked on the cigar contemplatively, watching the twilit sky darken and wondering how to intervene without making her hate him.

After a cheeseburger deluxe at the local diner, and a few beers, he decided they needed to have a little talk.

She was curled up on the couch in the living room, dozing, when he found her. Normally, he'd have let her sleep, but he had a burning curiosity -- strictly platonic, of course -- to know what she and Scott had been so involved in at dinner that she'd ignored him completely, even though it was his first day back in three months.

"What were you and Scooter talkin' about?" he asked grouchily.

"Hmm?" Why was he waking her up to ask these stupid questions? "Philately," she mumbled sleepily.

Logan's face got grimmer, if that were possible. "What?"

"Philately. Scott asked me if I like it."

He fought back the red haze that threatened to consume him. What the fuck was Scooter asking her questions like that for? "One-Eye asked you if--" He couldn't finish the sentence. He was close to losing control.

"'Cause Alex is into it," she confirmed. "And --"

He growled fiercely and stormed off to find Scott.

Rogue went back to sleep, confused.

Logan tracked Scott down in the garage. He picked the younger man up by his shirt and slammed him into the wall.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snarled.

"Changing the oil on the Jaguar," Scott replied. He was rewarded with another shove against the wall. He remained calm, knowing it would only piss Logan off more, and enjoying that, even though his back would be sore later.

"With Rogue, asswipe."

Scott gave him a puzzled look. "I'm not following you here, Logan."

Logan leaned in close and extended three inches of one razor-sharp claw. "Philately? With your brother?" he growled. "What kind of sick fuck--"

"I don't like it much either," Scott interrupted calmly, "but I don't think it's sick. Boring, maybe, or nerdy, but sick?"

Logan blinked and growled again. He was obviously missing something. "What?"

"Stamp collecting," Scott responded. "It's Alex's hobby. Isn't that what we were talking about?" He fought back a grin. The last thing he wanted to do was get gutted for laughing at Logan at the wrong time. But, oh man, when he told Jean, they were going to howl.

***

Alex Summers was tall, blond and blue-eyed. He had a degree in music theory and played bass in a band. He was currently charming Jean's mother, not an easy task, but the old battleaxe was giggling like a schoolgirl at something he'd said.

Rogue sighed. There was nothing *not* to like about him, except Scott was pushing her at him as if he were her last chance on earth to fall in love.

And he wasn't Logan.

Another sigh.

She scanned the dance floor, easily finding the object of her thoughts. He stood, beer bottle in hand, holding up the far wall, the scowl on his face enough to discourage even the bravest of souls from approaching him.

Except for her, of course.

She picked a glass of champagne off a passing tray and headed over to him.

"Hey," she said. "You're doing a great job."

"Huh?"

"Keeping the wall from tumbling down," she teased.

Logan's mouth quirked into a half-grin. "You know I hate these shindigs."

She nodded. Of course, this was not the typical Xavier fundraiser. This was Jean and Scott's engagement party. She figured that's why he looked upset, though it wasn't like they hadn't already been through two previous versions of the same event. He'd stood in the same corner and scowled in the same way both times, and she'd teased him out of his sulk both times.

Third time's the charm, she thought, taking a deep breath. She noticed his eyes falling on her cleavage and couldn't suppress the shiver of anticipation that ran through her.

Following the numerous dating disasters, she'd decided to take one more shot at Logan. After all, she was older now, and more experienced. Maybe this time he wouldn't flee into the night after kissing her. God, she almost laughed out loud at the hungry expression on his face as he eyed her cleavage.

"Dance with me," she said, holding out a black-gloved hand.

He took it and pulled her in close, his other arm encircling her waist. It didn't matter that it wasn't a slow song. When Logan danced, he danced close, regardless of the music.

It felt so right to be in his arms. Her eyes drifted closed as he stroked lazy circles on her back. She heard a soft purr and her eyes popped open at his rumble of laughter in response. She looked up at him, searching his face as they moved slowly, away from the other dancers, who were moving furiously to the sounds of "Dancing in the Street."

"Rogue," he began, just as she said, "Logan--" They laughed a little awkwardly. She felt the nervousness in the pit of her stomach mutate into something more, something that felt like desire. For the first time, he seemed to be looking at her like an equal, an adult -- a woman.

"You go first," she said with a little nod of her chin. She just wanted to enjoy this moment; it seemed like she'd been waiting for it forever.

His gaze shifted suddenly, looking over her left shoulder, and she could feel her stomach drop, the desire that had been building a moment ago transformed into a sick feeling with which she was all too familiar. She heard Jean's laughter behind her and closed her eyes against the stab of disappointment.

Of course she couldn't compete with Jean. How had she ever thought she could? She scolded herself for imagining things that weren't there.

The silence stretched between them and, instead of being fraught with sexual tension, as she'd believed, it was now filled with a sick sort of anticipation, that he would finally come out and tell her that he loved Jean and that she had no shot at all. It was like watching a train wreck, she thought. She tried frantically to think of some excuse to break away before he said the fateful words, but her mind was frozen at the realization that she truly had no shot; she never had and apparently never would.

Finally, his voice broke into her panic. "Are you okay with this?"

She blinked rapidly. <No! No! I'm not okay with it, Logan. I love you, dammit. Why don't you see that you're killing me, here?> "With what?" she croaked.

"Scooter and Jeannie. I mean, I know--" his grip on her waist tightened and he still couldn't meet her eyes. "It's hard, to be alone when--"

<Oh, God,> she thought. <Don't say it. Please don't say it.>

"Rogue, there you are!" Scott's cheery, slightly slurred voice broke the bubble surrounding them and she turned toward him in relief.

"Scott!" she said, a mite too effusively, but she didn't care. "And Alex." For indeed, Alex was behind him.

"May I cut in?" Alex asked, with a charming little bow.

Logan growled and said, "No way, bub. Wait your turn."

But Rogue overrode him. "Of course. It's been a while, Alex. How are you?" she asked, pasting a bright, false smile on her face as she maneuvered out of Logan's grasp and into Alex's arms. Logan looked as if he were about to release the claws right there on the dance floor, but Jean floated over and put a hand on his arm.

"Come on, Logan," the bride-to-be invited, "let's show the youngsters how it's done." And she swung his unresisting form back out onto the dance floor.

Rogue blinked again, willing the tears to stay unshed. Alex watched her closely, and she tried to be cheery, but after the third time he called her name without an answer, he pulled her outside, into the chilly January night.

Coming to a stone bench outside the ballroom, he said, "Sit."

"What am I, the dog?" she snapped.

"At least it got your attention," he said mildly. "I told Scott you two were involved in something, but he's a little tipsy and you know how he gets."

She looked away, and let out a tiny huff of air, praying he'd believe it was the sting of the wind making her eyes water. "Yeah."

"So, you two *were* involved in something that shouldn't have been interrupted."

"Yeah." She shook her head. "I mean, no. No! I mean, yeah, I know what Scott's like when he gets an idea in his head." She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to warm up.

"If you say so." He removed his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

She pulled it close around her. "Thanks."

"For the jacket or for... the other?"

She shrugged, unsure. "Either. Both. I don't know."

"He really twists you up in knots, huh."

"Let's not talk about Logan," she answered brightly. "How's the music thing going?"

He gave a half-grin. "Not too bad, actually. I'm coming to New York for a few months, to do session work with some guys I know. You should come see us."

"Oh, I'd bet money Scott will make sure I do."

That made him laugh outright. "We should do it, Rogue."

"What? Do what?"

"Go out. Just to get him off our backs. Then we can at least say we tried and it didn't work. And hey, maybe you'll like me, and I'll like you, and everybody will be happy."

She turned it over in her mind for a moment or two. He was right. She would get Scott off her back, and maybe now that she'd had her epiphany regarding Logan, she could get over that as well. Decision made, she said, "So, I hear you like philately."

"Doesn't every guy?" he responded wryly.

Her eyes widened. "Scott said --"

He laughed. "Stamp collecting. Yes, when I was *nine*. I don't do it much anymore."

"Whew," she said in relief. "I don't think I could fake interest in that for too long."

He looked at her seriously, his eyes boring into hers; she thought she could see right through the clear blue, so different from the guarded hazel that confronted her whenever she tried to read Logan's expression. "I don't want you to have to fake interest, Rogue. We'll see how it goes, and, if we like each other, we can do it again. Don't feel some sort of strange obligation because I'm Scott's brother."

"Okay. So, when--"

"No time like the present, I always say. Let's get the hell out of here. I know a little jazz club in town that should just be starting to swing."

She smiled genuinely for the first time since her realization, and nodded her agreement. "Let me run upstairs and get my coat."

He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss on her gloved knuckles. "I'll be waiting."

She hurried into the house, slipping in between people so she could avoid Logan and the return of her depressing thoughts about him, and decided that she was going to make this work, one way or another.

And when Rogue put her mind to something, she usually succeeded.

***

About a week after that first date, when it was clear that he and Rogue were hitting it off and would probably be spending a lot of time together in the future, Alex found himself cornered in the locker room by his older brother.

The rank odor of sweat and used towels that never seemed quite clean assaulted his senses for a moment, taking him back to his freshman year of high school, only months before Scott had blown the place apart on the night of his senior prom and both their lives changed forever.

Scott put a hand on his shoulder and indicated the bench that rode the floor between the two rows of lockers, and they sat.

"Consider this the obligatory 'If you hurt Rogue, I'll kill you' speech," Scott said, only half-joking.

Alex looked askance at him. "I figured it'd be Logan giving me this talk. Shouldn't you be saying this to her? I *am* your little brother, after all."

Scott gave a short bark of laughter. "You're my brother, but Rogue's -- she's ... fragile."

"There is something about her," Alex agreed. "Sometimes I get the feeling she's not completely -- there. I mean, like she's not with me. I don't know where she goes, and I -- I don't know if she'll ever let me in wherever it is, but--"

"You have to understand," Scott interrupted. "When Greg left her, she was devastated. It was really, really ugly. It took us a long time to convince her to start dating again and --"

"I'm not talking about Greg."

Scott's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Then what--"

"Logan."

Scott snorted. "She's--" He shook his head. "Logan's never going to have the balls to admit he loves her, even if he eventually figures it out."

"You know?"

"That he's in love with her?" Scott asked. Alex nodded, frowning. "Of course."

"I didn't think you'd noticed."

"I'm not Team Leader because I'm good looking, Alex."

"That's a relief, 'cause you're not."

Scott ignored the sarcasm. "I know what's going on around me. I just don't feel the need to get involved in other people's personal lives."

Alex choked.

"Unless it affects the team, of course," Scott continued, still ignoring Alex's response.

It took a few minutes for Alex to stop laughing. When he did, he said, "Like you didn't hound Rogue and me into dating?"

"That was a special circumstance."

"You're such an old woman, Scotty, I swear."

"Fine. I just don't like him, okay? I mean, he's all right, but I don't want to help him out."

"You're still upset about his thing for Jean?"

"What? No." Alex raised an eyebrow at this denial, and Scott relented. "Okay, yeah, a little. Did he have to be so -- blatant about it? As if Jean would even be attracted to his brand of machismo." Scott shook his head, disgusted. "But that's not the point.

"The point is this. Rogue's been hurt badly, and I don't want to see it happen again. She may believe she's in love with him -- God knows she pined publicly for almost three years. But he'll only hurt her in the end."

"I thought you said he loves her."

"He does, but he's too much of a loner and a vagabond to ever really make the kind of commitment she needs."

Alex stood and began pacing in the small space available. "And I can? I travel just as much, if not more than he does."

"You know who you are," Scott interrupted sharply. "You travel because you love it, and your job requires it. But you have a home -- here, and in San Diego. You've put down roots, and we know you'll always come back because of that.

"Logan can't. Not until he finds his past, or whatever it is he's really looking for, or he decides to focus on the future instead.

"And Rogue, as much as she loves traveling and having adventures -- and she does, which is another reason I think you two will be great together -- she needs a home, a place of her own. Something that's not going to disappear when things get rough."

Alex nodded, stopping to stand before his brother, and looked down at his hands as if they were the most interesting things he'd seen in ages. He was going into this thing with Rogue with his eyes open. All either of them really wanted was some fun, and a respite from Scott's constant matchmaking. If more came of it, well, he'd worry about that later.

He smiled when Scott jumped up, a bewildered look on his face.

"Shit. Jean's going to kill me. We were supposed to meet the video guy at ten."

He rushed out of the locker room, leaving Alex to his thoughts amid the dirty towels and smelly socks.

While Alex showered, he turned Scott's words over in his mind and filed it all away. He never had been one to borrow trouble.

***

4. The Two Suitors

Two Months Later...

Logan sat in the corner of the dining room, alone. He watched as Rogue reached over into Alex's plate with her fork and speared a piece of broccoli. She ate, as she did most things, enthusiastically, but with a certain refinement that would have done her genteel Southern mother proud.

He simmered silently. That should have been *his* broccoli. Rogue should have been *his* girlfriend by now.

He'd had it all planned out. First, a little commiseration at the engagement party -- making sure she was all right with Scooter marrying Jean, telling her that he understood she might be hurt, but that it was better this way, because Scott was in love with Jean, and nothing was going to change that. Then, he was going to woo her.

He ran a hand through his hair and scowled at his steak au poivre.

Woo.

He had actually used the word "woo" in his thoughts. It had felt right, which made him wonder exactly how old he was, because men didn't pitch woo anymore. They didn't even court. And yet, he'd been planning on wooing her, taking her to nice restaurants, maybe even out dancing afterward, if she liked.

He knew she was attracted to him. That hadn't changed, though everything else had since her twenty-first birthday. He thought that the feelings she'd once had for him had only faded a little, not disappeared entirely, and he'd hoped that, with the growing up they'd both done in the past three years, the time would be right for them to get together.

He didn't much believe in destiny, but this was something his gut told him, and his gut was rarely wrong.

But then Alex had cut in on their dance before he'd had a chance to say a word, and the next thing he knew, Rogue was going out with the punk.

What was it about Summers men, he wondered, that he seemed destined to lose the women he loved to them? Though he'd never really been in love with Jean. He knew that, now that he had the real thing to compare it to.

And the thing was, Alex was actually a pretty good guy. Not anywhere near as much of a tightass as Scott, and though Logan wouldn't admit to noticing or having an opinion, the guy was good-looking, too, in that blond, surfer way women seemed to find so attractive. And he was more understanding of Rogue's situation than that prick Greg had been.

Even worse, his own relationship with Rogue was still strained. He missed their closeness, and once again cursed his lousy sense of timing, because he didn't think he could live like this much longer.

He noticed Scott feeding Jean, mocking his younger brother with a smirk, and both couples laughed. Then Jean caught him staring and nudged Scott, who sobered immediately. Logan saw Rogue glance toward him and dropped his eyes.

He refused to pine. Admittedly, he was more of a 'shoot first and ask questions later' kind of guy, but that was obviously not going to work in this situation. He had to put together a plan.

He wondered, now, if he'd misjudged her feelings altogether. She had jumped from telling him she loved him into a relationship with Greg. Now, she was involved with Alex, after he'd been so sure she was in love with... Scott.

<Christ, is she going out with Alex because she can't have Scott?>

He was staring again, and he knew she felt it because she looked up for a moment before blushing and turning back to Alex. He smirked in triumph. Not indifferent. That was a start.

He began eating, at least somewhat assuaged by her response to him, and resolved to talk to Jean. She'd know the real deal and she'd help him. He was sure of it.

After dinner, he tracked her down in her office. She was, yet again, reshuffling the seating chart for the wedding reception.

She looked up when he entered. "When you get married, elope," she said shortly. Her temper, usually held in check, had been growing steadily worse as the wedding approached and the planning seemed to get more intense. Everyone in the mansion had been stepping around her carefully for days.

"You and One-Eye can still do it," he answered. "I know a guy--"

She huffed. "Was there something?"

He cocked his head at her sharp tone, startled out of his usual aplomb, and said, "Actually, yeah. I-- shit, Jean, I'm bad at this."

She must have realized he was uncomfortable, because she put her pen down and slid her glasses off.

"Sit."

He turned the visitor's chair around and straddled it. "It's Rogue. I -- Shit. How do I fix it with her?" He winced at how pathetic he sounded, but had already decided it was worth swallowing his pride to at least get back to at least a friendly footing with Marie.

"You love her," Jean said.

"Yeah."

"And she loves you." He raised an eyebrow. "She does, you know."

Part of him was reassured -- his instincts hadn't been wrong. But the other, more logical part, was skeptical.

"Maybe," he said, "but she's with Alex."

Jean nodded. "Yes. She is."

<You're not helping, Red.> She bit her lip and he knew she'd heard him, as he'd intended. She was trying not to laugh, which made him growl. But dammit, he needed help. He swallowed hard, consigning what was left of his dignity to the trash bin. "Do you think -- is she happy with him? 'Cause I've fucked up enough with her. If she's happy, I don't want to--"

"You should be asking her these questions, Logan, not me," Jean interrupted. The words were sharp, but her tone was gentle. "I think that you and she need to clear the air between you. She believes," Jean paused, wrinkling her nose, obviously choosing her words carefully, "how shall I put this? She believes that you don't see her as a desirable woman."

"What?"

"That's the impression she has."

He jumped up and began pacing. "What the hell is she thinking?"

"That's what you need to ask her, though not, perhaps, in that tone."

"I don't understand how -- I mean, I thought -- shit."

Jean gave him a sympathetic smile. "She doesn't know. She doesn't see how you look at her when she walks into a room, or how you watch her when she's not looking." Jean sighed and leaned back in her chair, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "She's had bad luck, Logan. She's had her heart broken more than once." Logan dropped back into the chair, and rested his head in his hands. She didn't say, "You've broken her heart more than once." She didn't need to. "You're going to have to be very careful."

He nodded, knowing she spoke the truth.

When she didn't say anything more, he stood and returned the chair to its original position. "That's it?"

"Uh huh." She was already engrossed in the seating chart again.

At the doorway, he turned, hands shoved into his pockets, hesitant to ask his final question.

"What, Logan?" Exasperation warred with amusement in her face.

"She's not in love with Scooter, right?"

He didn't appreciate the way she laughed at him.

"What?" he said, irritated. "I heard them talking before I left last time and --"

"And jumped to conclusions. God, Logan, you are an *ass*."

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, but Scott?" She burst into laughter again. "They'd drive each other crazy. No. Rogue is not in love with my fiancé. Do you think I'd let them spend so much time together if she were?"

He saw her eyes glitter dangerously, and remembered what had happened to Emma when she'd set her sights on the Fearless Leader.

"Fine," he grumbled, walking away.

"One last thing," Jean called after him. "It would help if you stopped treating her like the maid!"

***

Over the next few days, Logan waited for an opportunity to talk with Rogue, but Alex was always around.

He gave up trying to catch her in the hall or during meals, and decided to take the initiative and confront her in her room.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard them.

Rogue's voice, gasping, "Oh, God, Alex. Please..." Followed by the muffled rumble of male laughter.

He stopped, stunned. Inhaling, he caught her scent, mingled with Summers', and felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. Hard.

With a low growl, he turned on his heel and left the mansion. He couldn't be around this. He couldn't sit back and watch her be with someone else. It was intolerable.

He stopped in the garage long enough to get the motorcycle, and fled into the city to his apartment.

While it had bothered him at first to be around Jean after she'd ever so gently turned him down completely, it hadn't felt like sharp pain in his chest that made him want to curl up and die.

That's when he knew he was in love.

He drained the liquor cabinet in the apartment and then sprawled, drunk, on the bed. The bed she'd made for him; the soft, white flannel sheets smelled of Marie.

He wrapped his arms around a pillow and closed his eyes, imagining he was holding her. He knew she came here when he was out, that even after their falling out, even after she started dating Alex, she still stopped in and made sure the place was clean.

No one else had been here. He hadn't been with a woman since the night he'd left the mansion after overhearing her conversation with Scott. He couldn't take the idea of someone else's scent replacing hers on the sheets and in the drawers; he hadn't worn any of the clothes she'd washed and put away. He just held them to his nose occasionally, trying to catch any last lingering reminder of her presence. He wasn't even sure anymore that he could smell her, but he knew she'd touched these clothes, and imagined her scent still clung to them; he was somehow comforted by the idea.

Fucking pathetic was what he was; he suddenly understood what she had been trying to tell him that night on her birthday, about how painful it was to love someone who didn't love you back. And now he knew how she must have felt every time she found evidence of another woman in his bed, in his life. He felt sick at making her feel that way.

That night he came to a decision.

He was going to get rid of the apartment. He didn't need it anymore. He was going to tell Marie how he felt, apologize for fucking up so often, and leave the decision up to her. If she chose Alex, well, he wouldn't blame her, after his own stupidity all these years.

He was done running. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

***

Logan was dozing, but the sound of footsteps in the hall woke him. He sniffed the air experimentally.

"Shit," he muttered, but there was really nowhere for him to go. He was sitting in Marie's room, waiting for her to come back from the bridal shower the X-Women had arranged for Jean.

The door swung open and Alex stood in the doorway. He was startled when Logan rose from the easy chair in the corner, but his voice was even.

"Logan. Can I help you with something?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Rogue's not back yet."

"I know."

"Is there a reason you're waiting in her room for her?"

Logan shrugged. "I need to talk to her."

"You see her every day -- at meals, at training sessions," Alex said. "What's so important that you're sitting in the dark waiting for her?"

"None of your business," Logan replied, walking to the door. Alex didn't move.

"Really? I'd say other men hanging around my girlfriend's room *is* my business." His tone was hard.

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn't otherwise respond. He could taste the adrenaline rising in his throat. Would Alex really make it that easy, actually give him the opportunity to beat the crap out of him?

They stared at each other for a few moments, until Alex broke the silence. "It must kill you that she's with me, that you had your chance and blew it."

That stung, more so because it was the truth, and Logan knew it. "Look," he said finally, pushing his anger down, because he knew he was really more angry with himself than with Alex, "I know you care about Marie, and maybe she loves you. But maybe she doesn't. I think she deserves to know how I feel about her, and then she can make her choice."

"I think she's already made her choice, Logan. Don't make it harder for her, just because it'll make you feel better."

Logan's hands fisted unconsciously. He fought the urge to slam Alex into the wall. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." His voice was low, harsh.

"I know more than you think. I see how you look at her. It's just eating you up inside, isn't it? That you wasted all that time screwing around when you could have had Rogue? How's it feel now that the shoe's on the other foot?" Logan said nothing. "She's happy now," Alex continued, "and doesn't she deserve *that*? Huh? After all the heartbreak?"

Logan knew he was right, as much as he hated to admit it. "Yeah," he whispered, shoulders slumping in defeat. Alex stepped out of the doorway, and Logan slunk down the hall, out to the garage, and back to the apartment, alone, to wallow in misery.

***

When Rogue got home, Alex was sitting in her room alone, in the dark. She caught Logan's scent in the air -- she'd retained his enhanced sense of smell -- but said nothing. Alex was apparently all in one piece, and she didn't need to hear that Logan had given him the big brother, "If you hurt Rogue, I'll kill you" speech.

"Hey," she said, "what's up?"

"Nothing," he answered, rising and pulling her close. "I missed you."

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. "I was only gone for six hours. What're you gonna do when you go on tour next week?"

"You can still change your mind and come with us," he said, pressing his lips to her scarf-covered neck. "Come on. It'll be fun."

"I'm sure it would, but I have responsibilities here, Alex," she said, allowing him to walk her back to the bed. "I can't just disappear in the middle of the semester. Who would take over my classes?"

"You spend too much time with Scott," he muttered.

"Do you really want to talk about your brother right now?" she teased, sliding her hands into his pants.

He grinned down at her, sucking in a breath at her skilled strokes. "I guess not. I just -- I really want you with me. It's going to be hard to be apart for so long."

"It's hard right now," she snickered and he groaned. "I know, but it'll work out. You'll see. We'll just get really good at phone sex."

She used her legs to roll them over, all the while continuing to stroke him. He shimmied out of his pants, while she, with her other hand, reached into the drawer and pulled out a condom. After rolling it onto him, she bent and used her lips and tongue to continue stroking him.

He slid his hands into her hair, thrusting into her mouth. "God, Ro- Marie. Marie!"

She raised her head, brow furrowed in surprise. "What did you say?"

He blinked, thrown by the sudden loss of her warm mouth. "Marie. I said, 'Marie.'"

"You never called me that before."

"It *is* your name, right?"

She sat up, and he sighed. "Well, yeah, but... Nobody calls me that except -- I mean, nobody calls me that. I haven't been Marie since I left Meridian."

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving hers. "I just thought -- you don't call me 'Havok' when we're having sex. Why should I call you 'Rogue'?"

"I," she shook her head, dropping her eyes for a second. "I guess you're right. It's just -- It's -- Never mind. That's fine. You're right. It's my name. You should use it."

She pushed him back down onto the bed and picked up where she'd left off, trying to ignore her own resistance to his use of the name, and the fact that he didn't do it again.

***

Rogue noticed Logan's continued absence from everyday life at the mansion, but she didn't say anything to Alex. Things had been a little odd between them since the night of Jean's shower. She knew that the conversation about her name had been important, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong.

She knew Alex was right -- her name was Marie and he should feel free to call her that.

But she'd given up being Marie when she'd left Meridian. No one here really knew Marie, except Logan.

<And there,> she finally admitted to herself, <is my problem.>

When Alex went on the road, he called in every night at first, but as the time passed, his calls came less and less frequently.

She felt him draw away from her, even as she knew he was coming closer to home. She wondered how she could fix this, keep it from falling apart, as all her previous relationships -- okay, her one previous relationship -- had. She supposed she couldn't count the odd, non-relationship she and Logan had.

When she weighed things in her mind, she knew her relationship troubles could all be traced back to one source, one unfulfilled desire that never seemed to fade.

She had loved Greg, but looking back, she wondered if that was only because she'd seen him as her chance to be normal. And that hadn't worked out.

Alex was a chance to fit into the social structure of the mansion -- to make Scott happy and keep the others off her back. While they'd had a lot of fun, and she cared for him deeply, she knew it wasn't love, not the kind of love that was leading Scott and Jean down the aisle in a few weeks.

She divided her time between teaching, helping Jean with the wedding plans, the usual X-Men business ("The bad guys don't stop trying to take over the world just 'cause you're getting married," she'd teased the happy couple one afternoon when they'd been called away from their fittings), and cleaning for Logan.

He was almost never at the mansion now, appearing only for his classes and mission briefings.

Rogue figured he'd found someone new to drown his sorrows with. He'd done it before -- before each of Jean's other, aborted weddings, he'd withdrawn to the sex apartment. He'd done it when he'd actually fallen in love himself; Rogue had tried hard to forget the details of that relationship, which had ended badly, as Logan's relationships tended to.

Just another thing they had in common.

Even though she knew the chances were high that she'd run into his latest... friend, she found herself missing their old camaraderie more than ever, and secretly hoping he'd be home when she arrived, so that maybe, just maybe, they could at least become friends again.

She thought that might ease some of the pain at realizing he would never love her, allowing her to finally move on with someone else.

While Rogue was worrying about her relationship with Alex, Logan was spending most of his time drinking and brooding. He found himself appallingly uninterested in any of the women he met while he was following the underground fight circuit.

He couldn't stop thinking about Alex's words, about how he'd waited too long and lost out. He cursed his own stupidity, his fear of being tied down and his overconfidence at believing Marie would sit around and wait for him to get his head out of his ass.

But mostly, he blamed himself for having lousy timing. He went back over the past four years in minute detail -- a man with no past tends to hold and treasure the memories he *does* collect, and he had collected many of Marie, both of his time with her, and from watching her with others.

He saw each and every opportunity he'd missed, in stark detail. All the times she'd reached out to him, and he'd pushed her away.

Alex was right. She deserved to be happy, and if Alex was the guy who made her happy, he would just fade into the background. He'd had a lot of experience watching over her, and he'd continue to do so. And if Alex *wasn't* the one, and the opportunity happened to come along where he, Logan, could finally tell her how he felt, he would finally be smart enough to act on it.

With that in mind, he began to pack up his things and quietly move them back into the mansion. No use saying he was going to be around for Rogue if he wasn't actually *there* when she needed him.

And from now on, he vowed, he would be.

***

When Alex came home, Rogue watched him carefully. He seemed a little off, as if he were avoiding her, and she knew, suddenly, that she'd been right.

That night, he followed her up to her room, but she turned and pressed a gloved hand to his lips when he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"This isn't working, is it?" she asked.

He carefully brushed one white lock behind her ear. "I wish it was. But --" She raised an eyebrow when he broke off and led her to the bed. "Sit."

"What am I, the dog?" she joked weakly.

He smiled at the echo of the conversation that had begun the whole thing between them.

"You're not in love with me, are you?" She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "And as much as I'd like to believe I'm in love with you, I don't think I am." He dropped onto the bed beside her. "I see what Jean and Scott have -- and, we don't have that, do we?"

"No," she said, her mind racing for ways to salvage the relationship, so she wasn't a failure yet again. "But we could. Couldn't we?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so, *Marie*." She bit her lip, fighting the urge to correct him, but he noticed it. "And obviously, you don't think so either. You don't want me to call you by your real name. I think that's a problem."

"But--"

"No buts, Rogue. We both knew you were in love with Logan when we started dating." She opened her mouth to speak, but he overrode her. "And we've had a great time. I like you a lot, love you, even. But I know we're not in love."

"How?" She jumped off the bed and began pacing. "How can you be so sure, Alex? People fall in love all the time. Do you think I'd trust just anyone? Sleep with someone I didn't love?" She pinned him with a glare and grunted when he met her gaze and didn't squirm, as she'd expected.

"No, you wouldn't." She resumed pacing, annoyed at how calm he was. "But you're right, people do fall in love every day."

And that's when it hit her. While she had been stuck on trying to get over her past, his future had come for him, and it didn't include her. Not as his girlfriend, anyway.

Her throat was tight and scratchy; she had to swallow twice before she could make a sound. "Who is she?"

"That's not important. The important thing is, I think this is it for me, the real thing. I think we both know we were never going to be that for each other."

"I--"

He rose and took her hands, pressing a chaste kiss to each of her gloved palms. "Shh. I wish, I wish it could be different. But I don't want to wake up miserable ten years from now, knowing that what we have together is only a pale shadow of what we could have had with other people." He slid an arm around her and she allowed him to hug her tightly. "I do love you, Rogue. But not how you need to be loved."

She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't be what you need. That I -- I -- Dammit, Alex, why do I always do this? I want to be in love with you. Why aren't I?" She couldn't hold back the tears; he cradled her and gently stroked her hair while she cried.

When she sniffed and raised her eyes to his, he quirked a half-grin. "I'll tell Scott, if you like. I'll even take all the blame, so he doesn't yell at you."

That surprised her into laughing. "Oh, God. This means more blind dates. I think I'm going to be sick. Maybe I can join a convent."

"Well, how 'bout we keep it quiet until after the wedding. That way, there's no awkwardness, and, well, you don't have to deal with anymore set ups. It's only a couple weeks away. I'll tell Scott and Jean."

"But what about this girl-- this new girl you're in love with?" It was hard to say the words, but she managed it graciously, even if she did say so herself.

"Jen? She's not going anywhere. She'll understand."

"Jen? The lead singer in the band you were touring with?"

"Yeah."

"But she's -- You Summers men like older women, huh?"

He smiled, and she knew it would be all right.

She was just going to have to learn to be alone. It was obviously her natural state.

Otherwise, why would she have been cursed with untouchable skin?

She didn't let those thoughts show on her face, though, and over the next few days, she bore up under Scott and Jean's careful questioning and sympathy fairly well.

It was only the thought of seeing Logan, now that she was single again, that niggled at her, made her feel down.

No matter what she tried, she always ended up back where she started, with a hopeless love for a man who saw her only as a responsibility.

She wondered if she'd ever get over it, or if this was part of her curse.

***

5. Moving Out and Moving On

Logan stared at his meager belongings, boxed up and ready to be taken back to the mansion. Scott and Jean had driven over in a rented truck to help move his stuff.

He and Scott were sitting in the kitchen, their folding chairs the only furniture left. They were having a beer, as Jean maneuvered the dresser and various other bits of furniture -- including the comfortable, but extremely ugly brown leather couch he'd picked up somewhere or other, and the large brass bed -- down the stairs and into the truck.

"You're going to keep it all in storage?" Scott asked, finally breaking the long silence.

Logan shrugged. "I guess. No room for it at the mansion, unless I knock down the wall into Hank's room. I doubt he'd appreciate that."

Scott grunted in agreement.

They heard something bang into a wall, and a curse from Jean.

"Watch out with my stuff," Logan yelled, but there was no heat in it. He didn't care. He had retreated back into the state of being which had come so naturally for so long. Before Marie, he hadn't cared about anyone or anything. And he'd managed to avoid getting hurt. He thought it was time he went back to that, before he did something stupid and they both got hurt again.

"Yeah, yeah," Jean replied, breathless from the effort of using her powers. Scott thought it'd be too great a strain, but she wanted to prove to him that over the years, she'd gained strength and control. "I don't see either of you getting up and helping me."

"Don't want to ruin your concentration, darlin'. I know how distracted you get when I'm around," he said, noting how Scott's hand tightened around the neck of his beer bottle. "I bet you wish that was my neck, eh, Cyke?"

Scott laughed. "The thought has crossed my mind more than once, I'll admit. But in two days, Jean's going to be marrying *me*, so I'll let it go."

"Yeah, about that," Logan shifted uncomfortably. "Good luck. She's a good woman. You hurt her and I'll gut you."

"Thanks."

They fell silent again, until Scott said, "You love Rogue, don't you?"

Logan's head came up, nostrils flared. He eyed the younger man warily. "What's it to you?" he growled, hands already fisting in preparation for a fight.

Scott shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, and failing. "She and Alex broke up, you know."

Logan jumped up so quickly, he knocked his chair over. "What?" *Snikt* "I'll kill the little fucker. I don't care if he *is* your brother."

Jean rushed into the kitchen, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead. "Logan, calm down!" She turned to her husband-to-be. "Scott, what did you say?"

"I just mentioned that Rogue and Alex had called it quits, and Gruff'n'Growly here got all excited."

"Oh." Jean laid a hand on Logan's tense arm. "It was a mutual decision, Logan. From what Alex told us, they knew they weren't in love with each other."

"Not in love with each other?" Logan echoed, sheathing the claws and relaxing a bit.

"No. Apparently, they're each in love with someone else," she continued, taking the beer bottle from Scott's hand and bringing it to her mouth for a sip. "And they decided it was best not to try and make their relationship work under those circumstances."

"Is she all right? I've gotta go," Logan said, rushing through the apartment. "I've gotta see how she is. I've gotta --"

"Whoa, there, Wolverine," Scott said. "You stay here. We've already arranged everything." He rose and slid an arm around Jean's waist. "Consider it our wedding present to you."

"What?"

Jean pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and whispered, "She should be here in a few minutes. Don't screw this up."

And the happy couple waltzed out, arms wrapped around each other's waists, and Scott muttering something about ice cream that didn't quite make sense to Logan.

About fifteen minutes later, fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he heard a car door slam.

Then Marie's voice calling his name as she pushed the door to the apartment open. "Logan?"

"Hey, kid," he answered, reining in his emotions. She wore jeans and a white t-shirt, and opera gloves, even in the June heat. Her hair was held back by a sheer pink scarf, and he'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

She looked around at the empty room. "What's going on? I had a note from Jean that said you needed me?"

He stared at her, willing her eyes to meet his. "Uh, yeah. I'm moving back into the mansion full-time. I need the key back." <Shit. Real smooth, asshole,> he told himself.

"Oh." She fumbled with the key chain, which gave him the opportunity to get closer, to help.

His fingers closed over hers and he inhaled deeply, enjoying her scent. "Let me get that," he said, his voice low and hoarse.

Her eyes flew to meet his and he could sense her uncertainty. "Logan?"

"It's been a while since we've hung out, huh?" he said. She nodded, allowing him to tangle his bare fingers with her gloved ones as he worked the key off the ring. "I'd like it," his voice was rusty, and he cleared his throat before beginning again. "I'd like it if we could spend some time together." He slipped the key into his pocket with one hand, keeping hold of hers with the other.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes still uncertain.

He ran his free hand down the white streak in her hair, and said, "I know I've screwed up, hurt you. A lot. And I wanted to, to say, you know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Oh, Logan," she whispered, tearing up.

"Hey, now, darlin', no crying, okay?" He skimmed her cheek with his fingertips, her skin soft as silk during that fleeting contact.

"I-- I don't know what to say."

"That's okay. It's time for me to talk. You know I suck at this heart-to-heart shit, but --" He drew her closer and was encouraged that she let him. "I love you."

She swallowed and nodded, licking her lips before saying, "I love you, too. You're my best friend. I'm sorry -- I'm sorry things haven't been so good. I know you must be upset, with the wedding and all--"

He shook his head and placed a finger over her lips for a brief moment to silence her, pulling it away before the connection could open. "No, Marie. I love you. I'm in love with you. You're my best friend, yeah, but I want more than that."

She gasped. "Logan?"

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"What about Jean?"

"What about her? I know I flirted with her a lot, but I knew she was never gonna leave One-Eye."

"And that night -- my birthday?"

"Shit. I'm really sorry about that. I was a dick. There's no excuse for what I did. I was scared, and I ran. But I'm through runnin'. If you'll have me, this old man is ready to settle down."

She smiled through the tears that had spilled over at his words. Her face was radiant in the soft yellow light of the kitchen. "Promise?"

He grinned in return. "Promise."

"Oh, Logan." She threw her arms around his neck and he hugged her close. He pulled the flimsy scarf out of her hair and used it to kiss her, first her forehead, then each of her closed eyelids, and then, finally, on the lips.

"God, Marie, I was such a fool," he murmured against her neck.

"Hush, sugar. I love you, too. I always have, I think. Even when you were a jerk. 'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,'" she quoted softly. "I think if we had gotten together then, when I was younger-- I don't think it would have worked. I think we needed to grow up, both of us, and -- Logan!" His hands cupped her breasts, thumbing her already-erect nipples through her t-shirt.

He kissed her again, hard. "Enough talk," he growled, and she giggled, arching into his hands.

"Whatever you want, Logan."

"I really do love you, Marie," he said, walking her back to the wall of the kitchen, since the apartment was bare of furniture.

"I love you, too," she repeated, allowing herself to be lifted a little, and wrapping her legs around his hips.

Later, after their desire for each other had been banked, if not completely sated, they lay entwined on the floor of the empty living room.

"I think we should look into getting our own apartment," he said, as he nuzzled her neck.

"Couldn't you just re-rent this place?" she asked, squirming to get comfortable in his arms.

"Nah. I want someplace that's *ours*, you know? Somewhere we can go to get away from the X-Geeks and all that shit, that doesn't have any baggage attached."

"Our very own sex apartment?" she said, sliding one foot along his calf, re-igniting his arousal.

She could feel the laughter rumble through his chest. "Our very own sex apartment," he replied. "And I promise, we'll get maid service so you don't have to clean."

She giggled. "But can I wear the frilly uniform?"

He growled and rolled them over so he was on top. "Whatever you want, Marie. Just as long as no one else gets to see you in it."

***

Two days after Jean and Scott's wedding, Logan and Rogue found a reasonably priced one-bedroom apartment in Chelsea. After they signed the lease, the real estate agent thought she'd rarely seen a couple so in love.

The End

~*~

Notes, continued: No offense meant to any Jesus freaks, Germans, Portuguese or three-sneezers. I'm a three-sneezer myself, and some of the things that happen to Rogue in her dating adventures have actually happened to me. Sigh. And my mother wonders why I'm still single. *g*

The Aqua All-Star is available from Toys in Babeland. Also, while this fic was written with various musical accompaniment, "Listen to Her Heart" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers was on during crucial scenes.

Jen, thanks for letting me fictionalize you, even if you don't actually appear in the story.

There's also a joke swiped from West Wing in here; it was too funny to resist.

I'm using the movie novelization story for Scott's power-manifesting scenario. Just 'cause of one scene, but I kinda had to.

The title and summary come from Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, my personal favorite.

Sonnet CXVI.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

~*~

Back to X-Men Stories Index

Back to Main Stories Index

~*~

Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights