Not a Straight Line
by
Jenn


She'd wanted this to be quiet and she got her wish.

Pulling the key from the ignition, she tucked them in her jacket pocket, glancing around the familiar/strange grounds of the school she'd spent three years of her life with, then at the Mansion itself.

Okay, so it was the same. Exactly. Even the paint was chipped in the same pattern and she could see the marks from St. John's impromptu fire on the corner. For some reason, that bothered her--and on another level entirely it was a little comforting.

Getting out of the car proved a hell of a lot more difficult than she'd expected. Just move her feet--shouldn't be quite so hard. Shouldn't be quite so distant. Should be scared to death, and she wasn't.

Too damned much conflict in her head on what was and what wasn't.

It didn't seem as strange as something in her had expected. Slowly, she pulled her backpack strap over her back and stepped out, dust from the driveway puffing up in tiny brown clouds around her booted toes. Fifty feet to the door. No sweat--walk them. A yard a stride, she was there in less that twenty, and how freaky was it that she counted the steps? Hesitated, staring at the ringer a little uncertainly--should she ring, should she walk in, should she just fly through that conveniently open third-story window? Oh, no, not yet, let's break that part in gently, the whole new powers deal.

Oddly, it only took a twist of her wrist and the door opened, and what did that say about security--or what did it say about her predicatability.

It did tell her the Professor knew she was home, though. Apparently, she wasn't going to be thrown out on her ass quite yet.

:::You underestimate us.:::

She started a little, the skin on the back of her neck slowly crawling upward--God, it had been too long since she'd felt that touch. Strange/familiar. There was no good reason for it to bring tears to her eyes that she was forced to blink away.

:::Nice to--hear you again, sir.:::

:::Welcome home, Rogue.:::

Gentle, incredibly warm, overtoned with family and support and wordless assurance, love. Then a gentle withdrawl that made her wince a little, missing the contact. Glancing around the beautifully polished foyer, she took a long breath--and what the hell did she do? Oh, stupid question--she knew *exactly* what she was going to do. The only reason she was here, after all.

He was here--she knew that much. Some things in her didn't change and the muted remains of him inside her knew where he was. The softest growl deep in the back of her mind, the recognition of the presence of the real thing wandering at large in these halls.

"Rogue?"

A second's warning and warm arms were thrown around her neck. For a brief second, instinct and reflex almost took over and how bad would *that* have been? But that second passed and Marie grinned, hugging back the younger girl and when she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes.

"Hey, Jubes." Even her voice was shaky--looking at Jubes hunting her pocket for a paper towel or handkerchief, she laughed. "You wear that jacket with your unform still, don't you?" Surveyed the bright yellow that always made Jubilee look remarkably like a walking ray of sunshine--matched the personality perfectly and not at all.

"You better believe it, chica." Giving up, she wiped a gloved hand over her eyes, smiling, defiant against all tears. "I figured it'd be today."

"You know me too well." Which she did--Jubilee knew her so well that the letters had always arrived--sometimes a month late, granted--but they got to her.

"You're right--gimme your pack. You're sharing with me again. Got rid of the roommate when--" she stopped, taking a breath, eyes flickering up, not needing to finish the statement. "Anyway, he's in the Danger Room--use the front elevator--the others are in the lab on the lower levels. You'll be fine." Another pause, longer, more serious. "I knew, Rogue."

"Yeah." Another pause, and Marie finally surrendered her pack, brushing a hand through her hair. "I'm--"

"Yeah." Jubilee grinned, pulling the pack over her shoulder. "Go. Before one of the X-geeks wanders up or someone drags you off for reminescing or something."

"X-geeks?" A raised brow and Jubilee shrugged with a grin.

"He needed *someone* to complain to, you know." A pause, what Jubilee didn't say, the other reason. And nodded slowly, taking a breath, before she turned toward the elevator, then suddenly came to a stop. And here's where the kicker was--she couldn't know, couldn't be sure--

"Jubes?" She was twenty again and in her room, staring around the wreckages she'd made of her life.. No idea what to do, how to do it. Staring blankly at the younger girl as she twirled lightly to meet her gaze.

"He knew you'd come. He even knew it'd be today. Just--" A strange, sad smile. "You know, Rogue. Do it."

Marie could do that.

* * *

He was working against the animatronics, and Marie used the control room door to get in, watching from behind the plexiglass panel as he worked out grief in the only way he'd ever learned.

Different things for different men. She supposed that killing a thousand Sabretooths and black-clad ninjas probably did a whole world of good when you couldn't take it out on flesh and blood. But nothing quite matched reality, and she knew it. Slowly, she seated herself, watching him move, the sheer power and completely unconscious grace he only seemed to have when he fought.

She'd never forgotten how much he awed her--but she'd forgotten the sheer intensity he was capable of projecting at a moment's notice. Forgot until her breathing synched with his and the adrenaline rushed through her, until she could feel her own bare hands wrapped around the throats, until it came together with a brutal click and the man in her mind emerged with a slightly tilted head and an amused thought that she'd run away and not gotten anywhere at all that was far enough to dampen this.

Then he lifted his head abruptly, jerked from his focus and she blinked--then remembered the ventilation systems were definitely telling him that--

"End program. You wanna get your ass in here, kid?"

--her scent had entered the building. Mental note--don't party with Elvis impersonators anymore. They gave you some strange humor moments.

The cool gaze was on her, even if he couldn't see her through the polarized glass and Marie didn't move for a full five seconds--her knees were shaking, the palms beneath her gloves suddenly damp with sweat. Then, calling up everything she'd learned about control, everything she'd become, she rose, sauntering slowly to the door, opening it and walking in.

But nothing in her time away had dimmed his power over her, and her hands shook when she faced him. No idea what to say, what he wanted from her except she hadn't had the kind of strength to say no twice. Not when everything had changed, not when she had changed. Certainly not when there was no longer a good reason to run.

God, he might never forgive her for that, for knowing that only the death of the rival she knew nothing about would let her come back. But there was nothing in his face that gave any indication of anything except curiosity. For those endless seconds, they regarded each other, and Marie wondered what he'd ask. What she'd say. If he understood why Egypt was different than Madrid. Then--

--then two steps and she was off her feet in an embrace that squeezed the air from her lungs and brought tears to her eyes--peace, pleasure, sheer and unutterable relief. Wrapping both gloved arms around his neck and shut her eyes tight, burying her head against his shoulder. Letting herself take it in.

"Long time no see, kiddo." A breath against her ear as he set her back on her feet. "Come on. I'm gonna shower, then we'll get somethin' to eat."

* * *

It was just like seventeen and sitting on his bed with her knees drawn to her chest, listening to him shower. Room with that prison chic feel, as if he never used it. Nothing that wasn't him, and Marie had steeled herself, preparing herself to see things she didn't want to see. A woman's clothing. A picture. Feminine items left about in some random pattern to fuck with her head. Something--concrete. Something that could hurt.

Thoughts could hurt, knowledge could hurt, but physical reality would rip her the way she just didn't know if she could handle--though God knew, she had to handle it, had to. But nothing. It was the same as always. Not even a trace of a foreign scent on the bed, a foreign ghost lingering in the corners.

"Where we goin'?" she asked as he walked out, jeans only, wet hair plastered to his skull. Her breath caught, saw him give her a glance with a quirked brow and knew he'd heard it. And there was no way in hell he could misinterpret it, not with her sitting there and not after a year and a half away.

"Usual place." Like it hadn't been a year and a half since they'd set eyes on each other. As if there hadn't been two letters. As if--as if--

"Cool."

Nothing had changed.

Outside, the sound of footsteps and Logan ducked into his closet. She could faintly hear his rummaging through and wondered if there was anything in there that could scare her.

"Logan, I--" a woman's voice, outside the door, and Marie froze all over again, unmoving, barely breathing, as it swung open and--God, it had been too long, because she didn't recognize Jean's voice. And stopping stock-still at the sight of Marie on the bed, green eyes wide. It was one of the four times Marie could count that Jean was genuinely shocked.

"Rogue."

How to answer that? Correct, mostly, but let's say there's been a few personality and mutation changes along the way.

"Hey, Jean."

A pause, and the shock wore away, green eyes narrowing. Marie didn't need to be psychic to pick up the anger that had stewed for so long--even knew she deserved it. Didn't mean she had any intention of letting Jean Grey-Summers or anyone give her a guilt-trip over it. Certainly didn't mean she planned to roll over and let it happen.

"What the hell--"

"Jeanie, whatcha need?" And just like that, clothed, socked feet, carrying his boots out and sitting down on teh bed beside Marie--the bed groaned. Whether he meant to be symbolic or not was anyone's guess, but Jean didn't move for a second, words stuck in her throat.

"I--" Stopped. Lips tightening, started again. "Nothing important." Like it was ground between her teeth. Like she'd rather be doing anything else than make chitchat. Like she'd much rather be taking this out of Marie's hide in milimeters. For fun.

Marie couldn't even blame her for that.

"Good." One boot done, Marie kept her gaze on her hands, wondering if being twenty-two was all that different from twenty, when Jean Grey could still squash her with a look and a mental presence that was beyond hostile. Though she'd been prepared for that and her mental 'fuck off' she could only hope reached Jean's mind. She certainly put enough effort into it.

Eternal minutes, and Logan finished the second boot, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the chair by his bed. Hand fastening abruptly under her arm and hauling her upright, then a quick switch to her elbow--and that should have hurt, and it did hurt, that even now, he was protecting her. As if she was still worth it.

"We're out for dinner. See ya, Jeanie."

That penetrated Jean's fog. Oh my.

"You're taking her for dinner?" As if Logan had mentioned having Sabretooth over for cocktails. Marie forced herself not to grin at the look on Jean's face, knowing it wouldn't help anything, even though it would definitely feel good. "Logan--"

"Tell Scooter I'll talk to him in the morning--got some catching up to do. You ready?" Didn't even wait for her to answer--though he had to know that, yes, she was---and then giving Jean one of those smiles--the 'I'd like to go around not through you since you're a friend but I'll do it anyway if you don't move' smiles. And Jean backed off, gaze steady on Marie as he led her through the door, down the hall, and quickly down the stairs.

So Logan liked to move fast. She also got the feeling he didn't feel like seeing many people. And from Jean's reaction, this wasn't unusual.

"Logan, where is--Rogue?"

Fuck by five and a half, it was Scott, and brought her to a standstill. Not Logan, though--he glanced back briefly, nodding, still pulling, and if she didn't know better, she'd think this was about as close to desperate as she'd ever seen him. He *really* didn't want to be stopped, not even by friends ready to chastise the girl that had betrayed him.

No, especially. But then, he'd been the one that snuck her out past curfew and helped her escape grounding and covered for her when she broke rules. Rules were for lesser mortals, not Marie.

And how painful it was to know he still believed that.

"Later, Cyke." Marie stole a glance, and it was one of those times she was glad the visor covered so much of his face, because the hostility from him was so overwhelming that she had to wonder if being married to a psychic made psionics contagious.

"Logan--"

"I said later." Faintest edge, barely noticeable if you didn't know him well, and Marie knew him like she knew no other. It was there--he was getting ready to get angry. "Got some stuff to do. Come on, kid." Still that grip on her elbow, not so much intense pressure as focus. She was stronger than he was now--but she got the feeling that new powers might not make that much of a difference. After all, he'd had upwards of a hundred years to be perfect at what he did--she'd had nine months to basically get used to what she could do, certainly not hone it. A very big club, aka her, against a very sharp rapier.

Hmmm. And in any case, she liked his touch.

Scott stopped short--she knew she'd be hearing crap from him, could already imagine hsi disappointed speech--before they were out the door. Logan stopped, took a breath, and she knew what his gaze was fixed on.

"Nice car."

Yeah, she'd thought so. Smiled when she felt his hand in her jacket pocket, pulling out the keys.

"Oh, so you're driving?" she asked with a grin, and he smiled back. Warm, nothing else. For her.

"Always, kid." A gloved hand brushed against her face briefly. "Come on."

* * *

"Hamburgers just aren't this good in Italy, sugar. Gotta tell you."

Logan snorted something as he absently picked up another fry. She wasn't sure he ever looked away from her, felt his steady gaze whenever she looked away. Unnerving, yes. Frightening, yes. Exhilirating, definitely. She glanced down idly at the gloves she'd peeled away and left beside her plate.

They'd been here so many times over the years that it was utterly familiar, in a most disconcerting way, to sit here with him. Even if the waitress, who was familiar and greeted them by name, looked a little surprised but at least remembered their usual order. Hamburger, rare. Nicely rare.

"So where ya goin' now?" Picked up his coffee, taking a drink, regarding her coolly. Almost as if he expected her to say she was leaving now, and thanks for dinner. No--not that. It was something else, something she couldn't define at all.

Marie shrugged.

"No where in particular. If the Prof will have me back, guess here." A pause. "I got tired of moving."

"Chuck's happy you're home. Talk to him in the morning." He said it like it was a sure thing--she blinked, wondering what he knew that she didn't. Okay, so that was alot of things. Still-- "So you'll need to get back in training--you've gotten soft."

She giggled at that.

"Trust me, Logan, nothing about me is soft."

"I don't think random street brawls qualify. You get used to the new stuff yet?" Her breath stopped briefly--how the hell did he know? With another breath, she let it go. No questions tonight, none like that. "Didn't think so." He shifted a little in his seat, putting down the coffee cup. "You ready to start training tomorrow?"

Marie hesitated, wondering just how she'd maneuver Scott Summers into giving her the training and practice she desperately needed. That she knew she needed, and had needed for a long time.

"Scott isn't--"

"Cyke ain't gonna be the one training you." A slightly wolfish grin. "We'll have fun, darlin'."

Remembering Logan's idea of fun, Marie suddenly laughed--coudln't help it, couldn't even stop it. Laughed until she pushed her food out of the way and rested her head in her arms on the table.

"Yeah," she answered, looking up through tear-blurred eyes at the grin that she'd never expected to see turned on her again. "Yeah, fun, sugar. I got you. I'm good to go."

* * *

Jubilee was waiting up and Marie locked the door, knowing her friend was ready.

"How'd it go?"

Marie winced, slowly sitting on the edge of Jubilee's bed.

"Truth? Really good." Too good. A year and a half of estrangement gone, with no idea why he was letting her off so easy. "How--never mind."

"He came home five days ago." At Marie's startled look, Jubilee nodded, curling her legs up to her chest, wrapping an arm around them. "Yeah. He had me send off the letter the minute he returned--and even told me where to send it." Jubilee paused.

"What else? How was--how was he?"

"I don't know." Jubilee stared down at her hands. "I was in Los Angeles--Scott called me home when it happened. He was gone when I got here and the Professor was in Cerebro every day for hours trying to find him. It scared everyone--the Professor was even thinking of calling you back, but he knew you could block yourself from Cerebro--and he didn't think anything *could* make you come home, you know? When you walked out in Madrid--" Jubilee stopped, mouth tightening.

"You blame me too."

"No. I understand, chica. Seriously." A long pause, and Jubilee looked up. "But--but it was hard, you know? 'Ro didn't talk about it, but it made the news, what happened at that hotel. Scott threw a fit, wanted to send a team after you for that. Logan shut him up and sent a check for the damages."

Marie winced then.

"I wondered."

"Yeah. Didn't say anything else, just talked to the Professor and sent the money. And--"

"I can't hear about her yet." Jubilee didn't seem surprised and Marie let out a breath.

"Don't worry--no one talks about her. Logan--he took it bad, you know? Like, bad extreme. Not what I expected--but I sort of did, though. When he got back from Alaska after tracking you, they both left, you know? Hours later--he was so pissed that we were sort of glad. Said if you were trying that fucking hard to get lost, then fuck off." Marie winced again. God, that hurt to hear. "He didn't really--Rogue, I don't think he really *got* it, you know? He saw the evidence, but he didn't really understand. He didn't understand until 'Ro got back, and he just stopped talking about you. I mean, completely. Then he gets back this last time and gives me the letter and says to mail it. Said you wouldn't read anything if you knew it was direct from him, but that you might if it came from me."

"He's right. Woulda gone the way of the Madrid letter."

"That's why I sent it. I knew he was calling you home."

Silence, and Marie shut her eyes.

"I'm--Jubes, I was on the next flight. What he said. I read your letter on the plane. I couldn't--I don't know why, but I couldn't say no again."

She'd barely given herself time to pack, was on the phone with the airport, surprised to hear her own voice so calm when she'd been moving so fast, trying to get everything into one bag, promising extravagant amounts of money to get on that very next flight.

"He--he's changed, Rogue. You don't wanna hear this, but he--with her--he changed a lot. When he came back this time, he was like he was before her." Another pause, and Marie twisted her hands together in her lap, trying to breathe. "It was--it was hard for everyone. Even--even Scott was talking about someone going after you, tell you what happened. But I didn't know where you were, didn't know how to locate you. I think--I think that he wants you here because you don't know--you don't ask the questions, you don't give him the look, you don't remind him of her. You're--you're like it never happened."

More quiet, then Jubilee uncoiled herself, getting up, walking to Marie's new bed. Curious, she followed, then stared down at her pillow. With a shaking hand, she stripped off her glove, picking up the tags. Her blackened blood still staining the clasp, dusting over her hand.

He'd never wanted much in his life, Logan. He wanted such simple things. Easy things, things normal people took for granted. Things she understood, things she wanted too.

"He never took them back." Soft. "How'd he forgive me?"

A little smile and Jubilee smiled slightly as Marie's fingers closed over the metal, chain spilling onto her scarred wrist. It warmed quickly against her skin. It meant something--pure exhaltation, fear, a rush of utter familiarity, satisfaction, the loss of the freedom she'd never wanted, never asked for--things she could admit to herself. Things she'd never admit to anyone else.

"He'd forgive you anything, Rogue."

She'd never be free again.



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