"Hey!" she greeted with a cheer she didn't feel, hadn't really felt in the six years she'd been at the mansion, and perhaps beyond even that.  "When did you get back?"

He shrugged, then reached up and grabbed her arm.  She squeaked -- not out of fear for her skin, but from surprise -- and allowed herself to be pulled down next to him, because it wasn't as though sitting next to the best friend she hadn't seen for the better part of a year was a hardship at all.

"Late.  Didn't want to wake you, so." Another shrug and she nodded, because she knew him, could read between the lines of what he *didn't* say.

She sighed.  "Is this about Remy again?"

"Is that his name?"

"Logan." She was torn between exasperation and laughter, because he knew full well who Remy was, had in fact been the one who'd found him in the first place.  In the end, she let out a little laugh, because even though he had his faults -- too many of them to count, and as his friend she was too loyal to search for her calculator -- he was still the same Logan who had saved her life more times than was healthy for him (and for her peace of mind, a little voice piped up, but she quickly smothered it), and he'd never hurt her.  At least, not intentionally.

"Didn't want to interrupt the two of you." He lazered her with a hard look that told her the time apart from the situation hadn't changed his opinion on it one bit; he was still upset that she'd decided (against his strenuous advice -- hell, it had almost been a *threat*) to sleep with Remy.  The perpetual little girl, she thought, and wondered when he'd see her as an adult, a *woman*.

But that kind of thinking had never got her anywhere, had in fact made their friendship uncomfortable in the beginning, to the extent that Logan had avoided her -- unconsciously or not -- during the months it took her to get over her crush.  She wasn't going to make that mistake again.  Whatever feelings she'd had for him had been quashed quite thoroughly, and she'd make every effort to ensure that they remained that way; buried beneath platonic love and everlasting friendship.

It was enough for her.  It had to be; she didn't have a choice in the matter.  After all, it really wasn't a coincidence that the words 'love' and 'lose' had only one letter's difference between them.

"You wouldn't have been," she said and folded her hands neatly in her lap (to prevent them from doing something that could be considered detrimental to their relationship -- like slapping him upside the head).

"Really?  So you decided to take my advice after all?" He sounded decidedly skeptical, and for good reason.  She'd never exactly been known for her willingness to follow the advice -- or orders, for that matter -- of others.  Rogue thought that if she glanced at him at that moment, he'd be smirking.  And damn him anyway, for knowing her that well.

"Uh, no.  Not... precisely."

He raised an eyebrow.  "Not.. precisely?" he mimicked, copying her drawl well enough that she narrowed her eyes at him, considering.

"Logan, have you been practicing my voice or something?  Because you're a little too good at imitating me for comfort.  And for your masculinity, while we're on the subject."

He flushed, so slightly that if she hadn't been looking for it she'd never have seen the faint tinge along his cheekbones.  "No.  And are you deliberately beating around the bush?  Because it won't work; not with me.  So you might as well just answer the question, because one way or another I'll get the answers I want."

"All right, I'll answer you."

He smirked in satisfaction, and she took a deep breath, before saying,

"No, Logan, I am not deliberately beating around the bush."

His smile disappeared, and he growled in a way that would either be threatening, or arousing, if she weren't his friend.  And she was, she assured herself.  Far, far too much of a friend to feel anything but the barest hint of annoyance at his show of aggression.

"That wasn't the question I wanted an answer to, as I'm sure you know."

She pretended innocence, twisting a strand of white and brown hair around her forefinger and smiling sweetly at him.  She let her eyelashes flutter ingenuously and said, "Why Logan, how could I possibly be aware of what question you were referring to?  You know I haven't picked up any psychic powers as yet -- or have you been away so long that you've forgotten those.. negligible.. details?"

He looked stunned, and a little wary at just how quickly the tables had been turned.  Frankly she didn't blame him; she'd have hated to be put in his position (on the spot), especially after being all but guaranteed of a victory, of being in the right.

"I had to leave, Marie.  You kn-" He cleared his throat.  "I told you why."

"No, actually you didn't.  You just... left.  You didn't even say goodbye this time, how was I to know you'd come back?  You didn't bother to call or send a postcard, you-  God, I didn't even-" She ran a hand through her hair and tried to calm herself.  She didn't want to say anything she'd regret, and she knew she would if she carried on in this vein.  Anger and hurt feelings, she told herself, weren't excuses to blow up at your best friend.  Even if he *did* deserve it, she thought darkly.

"I didn't think you'd notice my absence."

She sucked in a breath through her gritted teeth.  Yet another jab at her recently-ended relationship with Remy.  She reminded herself to stay calm.  To not shout.  To not pound some sense into his arrogant, selfish -- and yet still too attractive by half -- person.  Rogue deliberately unclenched her fists at that, and thought that in this particular situation, perhaps it would be better to remain silent.

"Nothing to say to that?  You've been so busy with your boyfriend," -- she noted that he sneered the word and bit her lip, hard, to restrain herself -- "that you wouldn't have noticed an invasion of the Brotherhood."

"So," she enunciated carefully, "you thought it would be better if you left?  That doesn't make sense; you'd been trying to convince me to stay away from him, so why would you have just-"

"Maybe I saw that you wouldn't change your mind.  Maybe I didn't want to have to watch you get hurt. Maybe I didn't want to see you throw away your life on someone who doesn't deserve you. But then again, maybe I didn't leave because of you."

"I didn't mean to imply that I was the reason you decided to go.  I'm just... just trying to find out *why* you left, and you're making it far more difficult than it has to be.  So it's not about me, I get that, but why then not say goodbye, in fact why leave at all?"

"I- it was- my, uh, past."

She'd been so angry with him up until that point.  So annoyed at his evasions, but now, unexpectedly, she wanted to cry.  He was lying to her, she thought, and thankfully that built up her anger once more.

"Your past?" she bit out.  "Please, spare me the practiced little speech you give people you don't know all that well.  Save it for them, because I *do* know you, and you wouldn't leave for six months without a word, not after all the time you've spent at the mansion, not after making it your home.  Something else made you go, and if you won't tell me your reasons, that's fine.  Just don't expect me to bare my heart to you when you won't do the same."

She stood and quickly made her way to the front of the lounge towards the doors, the hallways, towards the freedom of her room where she could rage in peace.  And shed silent tears of anger, of hurt, at Logan's insistence on treating her as though she were still a child.

She noticed, in the small part of her mind that wasn't focused on getting out, that he hadn't done anything to stop her progress, and that part discovered that much as she wanted escape, she wanted him to prevent her from leaving even more.

But she heard no quiet words to ask her to stay, no footsteps to halt her, saw no arm across the door to bar her way.  So she slipped though the open doors and headed for the quiet of her room, the quiet that was not nearly as still as the silence she left behind her.

It felt very much as it had when he'd first arrived home.  He avoided her, she sequestered herself in her room, thinking, perhaps a little too much, about how the conversation had gone downhill at such a rapid pace.  Had she been too hard on him? she wondered.  Had she been taking out all of her frustrations about her relationship -- or lack thereof -- with Remy?  Had her accusations come out of nowhere, or were they well-founded?

Somewhere under a week of this behavior -- and she was thankful her emotional outburst had taken place during the school vacation so she didn't have to give piano lessons, and thus leave her room -- she realized that she was repeating the past, that the mansions' residents not gone home for the break were walking on eggshells; afraid to talk to Logan in the event that they angered him, and equally afraid to talk to her in case she burst into tears.  The situation was almost exactly as it had been five years ago, with one notable difference.

She was no longer eighteen.  She no longer thought that the world revolved around Logan, around his actions, what he said, and what he didn't say.

Except that it, quite obviously, did.  One disappointment from him, one thing she'd needed him to do that he either hadn't wanted or been able to, and she retreated to her room, regressed emotionally to the insecure young girl still struggling to control her reactions to a man who would never love her the way she needed to be loved.

It was time to change the past, she decided, time to resolve the issues that had plagued her for years.  Perhaps after that, she could wipe the feelings she had for Logan -- those that were deeper than congenial care, deeper even than the lust she didn't want to feel because she knew it was one-sided --  from her heart and look to the future.  Perhaps she could finally move on, take the emotional steps she'd been denying herself due to some deeply-hidden hope of him reciprocating her feelings, the unrealistic fantasy that crouched within her like...  Like a predator simply waiting for the moment to spring and attack, leaving her wounded and scarred for life, she thought viciously, and marched down the hall towards his room.

She rapped sharply on his door, and waited for him to answer, never once considering that he might not be in.  It was ten in the morning, after all, where else would he be?  With another woman, her memories of Logan's past reminded her traitorously, or sprawled drunk outside a seedy bar, or-

Her inner whisperings were abruptly cut off when Logan opened the door, looking rumpled and grumpy in sweatpants and a flannel shirt.

"Marie," he said, seeming surprised to see her.

Shouldn't he have detected her scent? she wondered.  Or had he been that deeply immersed in sleep that he hadn't recognized it?

There was another possibility, that he no longer remembered her scent, no longer wanted to, but it hurt too much, so she shoved it down.  After all, she'd come in the hopes of salvaging their friendship, not planting the seeds of doubt in her own mind about his caring about her.

"May I come in?" she asked, stiffly polite, and far too nervous for someone who was just going to have a discussion with her best friend.

"Yeah." He stepped back and let her inside his room.  He closed the door behind her and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.  She ran her hand over the leg of her jeans, and tried to ignore the tension twisting her nerves into knots.

She sat down on his bed, bouncing a little to test the mattress -- and his eyes, strangely, seemed to flick down to her chest at that motion -- then said, finally, as he didn't seem inclined to speak, "I, uh, didn't come here to fight with you, but I have a few things that I need to talk about, to understand, before... before I can let it all go."

"Like what?"

"Well, firstly, it should ease your mind to know that Remy and I are no longer together.  It was all about attraction at first and later on there were feelings involved, too, but we both eventually figured out that we weren't good together.  We fought all the time and we made each other unhappy, and it just... it wasn't right.  It wasn't love."

Logan slowly walked towards her, sat down on the bed next to her.  He said, without looking at her, "And is that what you're looking for?"

"I don't know." She shrugged.  "Maybe."

He was quiet for a long moment, before he said, "Do you really want to know why I left?"

She turned to face him, surprised, and replied, "Of course I do, but if it's too personal for you-"

"It isn't.  Not with you." He glanced over at her and traced the line of white hair.  She noticed that he was wearing gloves then, and wondered why when he'd been alone in his room.  He pushed a stray lock behind her ear, and she realized that she'd never felt nervous with his proximity the way she had with Remy's.  Because he knew the risks, he understood them, and he was careful so she wouldn't have to be.

He smiled a little when he said, "You were right.  I didn't leave on a big search for my past.  It's over with, I've learned all I'm ever going to, and I've accepted that.  But I couldn't accept your choosing sleep with Remy, to be with him," he paused, swallowed, then continued, "to be with him... instead of me."

"What?" she whispered, certain her hearing had gone and she had begun to replace his words with her own.  Either that, or she was hallucinating.  Whichever it was, it couldn't be a good thing.

"When I came back, the first time, you were so young, so inexperienced, that I knew I couldn't tell you how I felt about you.  It would've been an old man taking advantage of a young girl, a girl who didn't really know her own heart.  I waited and you got over your crush, and I thought I'd be able to explain it to you then, but we became friends.  We settled into it, and time passed, the opportunity passed, and then you were dating Remy.  It wasn't my place to say anything, it would've been unfair to you, so I decided to leave instead."

Not losing her mind, she thought, her temper on the other hand... "And why do you presume to know what's best for me?" she asked, indignation mounting, and rose to pace the room.  "This is *my* life, and whomever I choose to be with, it's exactly that: a choice.  You can't make decisions for me, Logan.  That's my prerogative as an adult, and now, now --do you expect me to simply fall into your arms just because it suits you?  Because it may not suit me.  Remy might not have been the big love of my life, but at least he never coddled me.  He treated me like a woman, and that's something you've never been able to do."

She stopped in front of him as her temper cooled as abruptly as it had flared, then knelt on the floor and placed her hand over his.  She continued, gently, "You say you have feelings for me.  The feelings a man has for a woman.  And yet you've never allowed me to be one.  Maybe, " she licked her lips as the words bit at her heart, "maybe you're just confusing one kind of love for another."

He squeezed her hand, and tugged her up and onto his lap.  "No, I'm not.  I'm not your father, Marie, and I don't think of you as a child.  But over the years, it was easier to treat you like one, because it helped me not to just reach out and take what I wanted.  It was easier to take the choice away from you, because..."

He stopped and she asked, breathlessly, "What, Logan?"

"Because I didn't think you'd feel the same way.  If you didn't know, I could still pretend that one day it'd all work out, that we'd be together."

"Why now then?  Why tell me after all this time?"

He leaned forward, and she could feel his breath on her lips.  She drew in air, and knew that she was inhaling the same breath that had been in his body moments before; it was intimate, sexy, intoxicating, so much so that she lost her concentration briefly and didn't hear the first part of his reply.

"... didn't want to lose you.  And I decided that taking a risk, even though there was a chance you'd turn me down, was worth it, because- because I love you, and there's nothing I wouldn't do to be with you."

"Logan," she said thickly, and placed her gloved hand on his face.  He kissed her palm and she said, "I may never learn to control my mutation-"

"And I may never be rid of the nightmares, I know I'll always have the claws.  We both have... issues... that aren't going to go away.  But they're a part of us, your mutation is part of what makes you the strong, beautiful person you are.  I love everything about you, there's nothing I'd change."

Tears pricked at her eyelids as she said, "You've always been perfect to me, Logan.  Always been the man who holds my heart in his hands, the only man I'd trust not to break it.  I love you," she said simply.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, as they had no scarf or other thin material handy for a proper kiss  and held her as she cried, softly stroking her hair, her back and not complaining when her tears of relief, of joy, soaked his shirt and made the flannel stick to his skin.

She tilted her head up and looked at him, knowing that her eyes would be bloodshot, her nose red and her cheeks splotched and tearstained.  He smiled tenderly and said, with so much sincerity that she nearly burst into tears again,

"You're beautiful when you cry."

And she wondered how she'd never seen it before, because it was so clear to her now, clear in his actions, in what he said, and even in what he didn't say.  She smiled back at him, because--

She was loved.
 

~ end ~