Pretty When You're Mine

Pretty When You're Mine

I didn't wanna fuck you, baby
Didn't wanna fuck you
I didn't wanna fuck you,
But you're pretty when you're mine

Shock.

Complete and utter stark, naked shock. That would be one particularly good way to put it, had I been able to think rationally after I got his letter. My mind wasn't really processing it as I read, my eyes just sort of glazing over the paper, my paper. From my desk. He sat at my desk, took a pen from the jar, a piece of paper from my notebook and sat down and wrote. I couldn't make my eyes focus. The idea of Logan writing a letter to me when he could just come and find me was strange.

But then, I'd cried on him last night again, and he must notice by now that I avoid him a little afterwards. I just… I always feel so stupid is all. Like why couldn't I just control myself? Why did I have to break down again? Why do I always have to cry every time, and why do I always make Logan listen to me, holding me like a child till I feel better? Why can't I just buck up, just once and take it out some other way? Why can't I drink, or fight, or just internalize? Why do I have to go and cry on Logan?

And look, now he's probably had enough. He probably figures he won't be able to find me till tomorrow anyway, and maybe he wants to spare me the humiliation. I can just imagine it. 'Look kid, you know I care about you, but why don't you talk to Jeannie next time, or 'Ro maybe? I'm here if you wanna shoot some stick though. Come find me, I'll take you riding tomorrow. Logan' Great. Just great. Top off the perfect day of hiding from Logan and my annoying significant other, with the knowledge that I've acted the cry baby for the last time. Perfect.

And so thinking, my eyes just sort of glazed over till I hit the word 'love'. Great, now a commentary on my choice of guys. Like I don't get that enough from Jubes and Kitty, now Logan has decided to care. Well, Logan, news flash: If I had my druthers I wouldn't be with him, or any of them. But I don't have my druthers and we're not in a little cabin somewhere in Canada making out in front of a warm fire, so there. Make it come true or shut the fuck up, those are your choices.

But then I decided to actually read that particular sentence. And it didn't make a lick of sense, so I started from the top.

By the fifth paragraph I was in tears.

By the seventh I was sobbing and wondering where he was and how quick I could get there.

At the end of the eleventh my heart was in my throat and all half formed thoughts of quickly clearing this massive miscommunication died quickly and painfully.

At the end I think my heart stopped, and then I couldn't think anymore.

I don't know how much time passed before Xavier found me. I was still clutching the letter though. I must have run, because he found me in the forest off to the east of the mansion, and I could have sworn I found the letter on my pillow.

He called me back to the mansion with his mind. It felt like I was floating, floating all the way back to his office. I didn't come back to myself until I was siting in one of his more comfortable leather chairs. It was then that I realized he'd taken possession of my mind outside, made me come back. It should have bothered me, not that he'd done it, but that he felt the need to do it. It didn't though, and if Erik hadn't been blocked completely he might have been raging right then.

"Logan is gone," he said. I knew that, so I nodded.

"He has done your young man quite a bit of harm." Still neutral, Xavier. Good for you. I was having problems not breaking down and crying. I couldn't cry anymore. Logan wasn't there for me to cry on.

I nodded anyway, knowing that Logan had beat the shit out of him. It wasn't till I heard Xavier's voice in my head, reading off what had to be something out of Jean's medical notes that I realized the extent. He'd walk again, but only barely and with much therapy. He'd eat again, but no solid foods for quite a while. He'd be able to move his feet if the tendons took to the staples the way Jean had hoped. There would always be the slash marks on his chest, and Logan had actually torn one of his nipples to bits. The penis was reattached and with the new technology there is a good chance that he'll have at least 60% feeling back in the area, though no hand jobs for the next year.

I really wasn't as upset about it as I probably should have been. I think Xavier caught on to that, because he asked permission and I let him in, let him drown under the flood of what had been going on in my life for the last year and a half.

"I'm so sorry, Rogue." I shrugged. It was no big deal. Sometimes I cried to Logan about it, but that was mainly when I just felt too lonely to deal with everything. Lonely, or something else. I don't know what though. But I'd pretty much asked for it. I mean I teased and I flirted and they're just boys after all. How much control do they really have? Hell, if people had control in this place I wouldn't need my gloves. And besides, I'm too damn sensitive. Isn't that what people couldn't stop saying when I first got here?

"No, Rogue… Please, try to understand -"

Whatever. Logan was gone. Logan loved me. Logan listened to me prattle on about all of the boys I wanted to love, all the boys that were fucking me in one way or another, and he loved me anyway. And now he's gone.

"Charles," I said, interrupting him with the name that the remnants of Erik made me use. "He did it because of me. He knew what was going on, from almost the beginning."

"Rogue, do you want the boy expelled? I will do it once he is well if you wish it. Either way he will never harm you again."

I shrugged because I really didn't care. It was like that part of my life was lived and over with now. A switch was flipped, or a page turned, or a button pushed or something, but it didn't matter anymore. All I could think about was Logan, and trying to imagine him loving me, trying to imagine us doing the little things that Jean and Scott did. It sort of worked, but each time I thought of him holding my hand or grinning at me just for the hell of it, I'd remember that he was gone and I'd want to cry all over again.

And he was gone because I'd cried. It was the only way I'd let him close to me, when I just couldn't take being away from him anymore, when I couldn't take the boys I let fuck me, when suddenly being a possession - their possession - didn't appeal anymore.

And then Xavier's voice was in my head again, soothing, lulling me to sleep, giving me promises of Logan when I woke.



Title: Pretty When You're Mine
Author: Sare Liz Gordy TeknoVamp@yahoo.com
Archive: Email me and it's yours
Disclaimer: Not mine, lyrics to Vast
Author's Note: Okay, so it's not quite scratching the foof monkey under the chin, which may happen sometime in the future, thank you Nacey, but it's no where near the angst that was with me earlier.


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