AN: If you influenced me in any way with this series, you have been listed at the end so that readers can flame you. Very sorry, but you do deserve it.

Oh and go read Facing Eternity, which splinters off from this story. A what if? If you will.

"Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds"

William Shakespeare

Sonnet 116

He looked beautiful when he smiled, Rogue thought to herself as she watched him, which made her realise that it had been a long time since she'd seen him do that. Now, watching her from the side of the tub, head pillowed on his arm, hand lolling inside the milky water, fingers sometimes trailing up to circle her swollen breasts, sometimes diving down to stroke her wet lips, often sliding back up to curiously touch her shell hard belly, he was smiling a lot.

"I like it," he murmured lazily, the usual furrows on his brow invisible for now, now that they were in their haven, as he pressed a finger against her hard stomach again and then drew back quickly with a small pleased smile.

"Like what?" she asked with a stifled yawn, not wanting to look away from that smile, a smile that she'd missed a lot.

"That smell - what is it?"

She was confused for a second before she realised he was talking about the bath milk she'd used, "oh - uh coco butter."

He arched a brow, gave her a teasing grin she had also missed for months, "it smells nice. Makes me want to eat you out."

Rogue blinked and felt a full body blush travel through her, only blushed harder when Logan laughed at her response.

"Jesus Logan, behave, or I'll kick you out," she chided to cover up her reaction, but was unable to mean it fully because his laughter made her want to crow in delight and cry in relief. Also reminded her that she shouldn't be in here.

Her eyes flitted towards the door nervously.

He tensed. Hand twirling a little typhoon in the water distractedly, "it's my bathroom."

She sat up stiffly, eyed him carefully. Nervously. Did she want to take the bait? Did she want to ruin this? "You know what he said." Apparently, yes.

"I don't see why it's any of his business," Logan muttered angrily, hand circling faster. "We explained how it is for us, and anyway, it's too fucking late anyway."

"It's only for one more month Logan, just for his peace of mind … It's not like I don't practically live here anyway," she soothed, turning in the tub as much as she could to face him, a hand protectively shielding her stomach from the porcelain edge, shivering as cold air hit her shoulders.

The typhoon was so furious now that water was threatening to spill over the edge.

His eyes flitted up to the tops of her full breasts that were floating low in the water, tracking the veins scarring it with an intensity that made her want to cover herself up and display herself at the same time. "But you don't."

"Logan we have to compromise-"

Water splashed onto the floor.

He stood, wet coco butter smelling hands combing angrily through his hair. "You're right. I'll drop it. I'll - I'm going to bed. Hurry up."

He slammed the door as he went.

She watched him go, sat in the cooling bathtub in depressed silence for another twenty minutes then climbed out and wrapped a towel around her. Patted herself dry, slipped on her underwear and her special clothes with the comfortable elastic and then bent down carefully to sop up the spilled water with toilet tissue.

She was seventeen; she sometimes wanted to remind him, only seventeen. How much say did he think she had?


He was turned away from her, lying on his side facing the wall when she tiptoed inside, and from his slow breathing, she surmised that he was already asleep. Or rather, just pretending to be asleep.

With a troubled frown, Rogue hung up the towel on the radiator to dry and walked towards the door.

Logan shot up into a sitting position. "Where are you going?" he asked accusingly, legs tensed. Ready.

Startled she placed a hand on her thumping heart - another across her stomach, "I thought you were asleep." His eyes narrowed. She hesitated, "… I … you were angry - at me."

He watched her unblinkingly, "so?"

She swallowed, pushed her wet hair behind her ears and grimaced at the feel of water sliding down her curving back. "I thought maybe you didn't want me here … Maybe you wanted some time alone?"

He shook his head, watching her intently all the while.

Rogue nodded and turned away from the door, edged further into the room and swapped her denims for the periwinkle pyjamas in her side of the dresser. Saw him sit up straighter to watch and slid in beside him.

He stayed on his side.

She stayed on hers.

He sniffed, threw a hand behind his head and tried to look at her from the corner of his eyes.

She coughed, pulled the quilt higher and tried not to fidget.

Tried to remember how many times they'd gone to sleep like this.

She'd lost count.


When the alarm trilled, Rogue woke up just as Logan swiped it off the bedside cabinet with an annoyed growl.

She yawned, blinked blearily and thought about falling back to sleep. The fact that Logan was spooning her, rubbing his morning erection into the cleft of her arse while using her back to hide from the sunlight made it seem even more tempting.

"Hey," she murmured, voice croaky with sleep, but still careful - hesitant, wondering if they had made up during the night without her knowing. She'd lost count of the times that had happened too. Felt like they were using a band-aid for a machete wound sometimes. "Come on, let go."

He held tighter, making her sigh in acute relief, snaked an arm up her hips and over her breasts. Cupped them and used them to pull her back against him. "Logan, I have - have -" her voice died as he tugged at the ever so tender nipples, so sensitive right now that the very thought of contact made her hiss.

"Skip it," he growled throatily into her neck, laved it and then teased it with his teeth. Biting down enough to make her tense up then just giving it a playful nip before pressing down again warningly.

He was always like this after a fight. As if he had to prove to her that there were reasons to stay with him. As if this was all there was to him.

She groaned, god it was so tempting. Not just for the - sex, but also because Logan was a lot easier to deal with afterwards, a lot softer. At least until the next thing pissed him off. "I can't.

He mumbled something into her skin and whatever it was, Rogue was glad she hadn't heard. It was too early to fight and the repetition was wearing on her. "It's with Dr Grey - 20 weeks check up," she continued, knowing this will soothe him. She wasn't leaving to make uncomfortable small talk with her friends, or for a meeting with a teacher about her future and what she wants to do with her life, or a talk with Dr Grey about the dangers of being in a relationship with an older man and how she should always remember that she has the power to say 'no.'

No, she was leaving for their baby. For him.

"Oh - well, you can't miss that," Logan concluded, sounding less put out, pulling away from her slowly, hands sliding gropingly over her before slipping off.

She fumbled off the bed, thoughts already off him an onto the life growing inside of her. Twenty weeks old already … according to the books her baby would have hair by now, tufts of Mississippi earth brown tickling her insides, and if it was a girl, she'd have a little stomach … wow.

She had a quick shower, mind swimming with images of a baby boy swinging off Logan's neck recklessly, a daredevil from birth, or a tiny little girl running to him with tears in her eyes and a booboo for him to kiss better, and was about to change in the bathroom when Logan began calling her.

"What?" she asked, sticking her head out the door, eyes still soft with images of papa Logan.

He was stretched out on the bed, ankles crossed, leaning against the headboard. "Change in here," he told her.

"What? Why?"

He arched a brow, a small smirk playing at his lips, "because I really need to come."

Oh Holy Mary.

She struggled hard not to blush; after all, it's not as if she was a virgin anymore - for god's sake he had - come inside her mouth. This was nothing compared to that. Right?

According to her Sunday school teacher, Pastor Nelson, Logan was going to Hell, he'd broken a hell of a lot of God's laws to not to - everything apart from bestiality from what she could remember.

Maybe she could get him to help a few little old ladies across the street, or go to Church at least once a year to try to fix that.

She sidled out in her towel with the clothes that she was going to change into in her arms.

Logan watched her.


"You just uh … want me to change?" she clarified with a perplexed frown.

He nodded. Arched off the bed to tug down his sweats.

She blinked and looked away, forgetting that she had all the right to look. Fiddled with the cloth of her towel. "Just … just change? Like, um … normal?" Or give him a show, like that girl from Jamaica.

Although Rogue knew she couldn't do what she had with a wineglass. Jesus.

Logan grinned slowly, nodded just as slow.

Okay, she could do this. Just change right? Didn't have to do weird things with cutlery or tableware, didn't have to slide up and down a metal pole like a hairless monkey like that Thai girl - but by god would she have made a fantastic gymnast!

Easy. As. Pie …

She tugged off the towel, swallowed hard and wondered what she should do with it. She normally would have draped it over the radiator but that didn't seem … well sexy. She stared down at it, frowning in thought. Should she have done it slower? Teased him with it and only revealed parts of her skin at one time, covering it back up again with a sultry smile straight off the cover of a cheesy paperback? That Jamaican had made it look so easy, even though she must have been in at least a little pain to shove that -

"Jesus, Marie stop it! You could be taking a dump and I'd still find it fucking hot. Relax will you," Logan yelled with a frustrated groan as he fisted himself, eyes boring over her and into her. Wanting to scream at her to hurry, because it had been a damn long time that they'd both been in a good enough mood simultaneously to make sex more about love rather then an outlet for his rage and her tears. Had been even longer when they'd had time alone together to even be able to do anything more then kiss - even if it was just to give anger and melancholy an exit.

Rogue wrinkled her nose. "I'm locking the bathroom door from now on." There was no question about it now; he was most definitely going to Hell. Not even saving baby Jesus from the Devil would change that.

He chuckled, cupped his balls and squeezed them as she self-consciously walked over to the radiator with her towel. Draped it over it and smoothed out the biggest wrinkles - Logan groaned.

Walked back over to her pile of folded clothes and tried to pick up her support bra and stretchy underwear without bending.

Logan was panting her name.

Snapped on the bra and shot him a bewildered quick look from under her tangled hair. He was watching her still, eyes slit with fervour, stomach heaving up and down. Her eyes slowly travelled off his face, down his torso and onto his cock. Long, thick and sticking up in the air - kind of silly looking actually. He took his hand off and slid it up his chest erotically; she gulped and followed it back up to his face. He licked his palm, tongue flicking out to curl around a few fingers, watching her startled expression with a dirty smirk, and then slowly ghosted it back down his torso to his cock.

Grasped it.

And Rogue could see that that new wetness was making a difference to what he was feeling, he eyes slid shut unwillingly and Rogue could hear the squelch his slick palm made as it slid over him.

Hell. Hand basket. Logan.

"Do you know what I'm doing right now?" he whispered, opening his eyes to stare at her dead on.

She stilled, nodded. It was kind of obvious, wasn't it? "You're …" her voice was deeper then usual and hardly sounded like her. "You're-" she tried again. "You know -" Playing with yourself? "Masturbating." She blushed, tried to look away from him.

He gasped, almost there at the way her lips had looked sounding that word out, squeezed down on his cock and groaned in frustration when it didn't tip him over the edge. "Not that," he said, stroking himself furiously, "I'm … uh! Imagining it's you." She gulped, stepped closer to be able to hear him better. To be able to see him better. "You that I'm sliding into, you holding me so goddamn tight that I can't breathe. Feels like suffocation, baby, being inside you, makes me-"

Someone knocked on the door.

Rogue turned to look at the door, turned back to Logan and was surprised to see herself mere feet away from the bed. Logan glared at the distance in-between them, glared at the door. Shot out a hand to haul her to him.

"No," she said, twirling away unsteadily, making Logan gasp and try to jump out to steady her. She was too far away though and, besides, had already righted herself. She shot him an apologetic look. Sorry that she had taken such a risk. "I really can't Logan. Dr Grey's waiting. Go see who's at the door." She collected her clothes and rushed into the bathroom, hiding there from the knocker, ignoring Logan's loud, beyond annoyed, profanities about the marital state of the parents of the visitor.

She was struggling with her socks when she heard Logan swear at someone rather then about them. Knew that running out would only add fuel to their already sky high fire but also remembered how Logan had dealt with a furious Bobby. Taunting him with how they had gone behind his back. How she had never belonged to anyone but Logan, how Bobby had been nothing to her and then putting him in the Med Bay when Bobby had shot back with a barbed comment about how futile their relationship was, how she'd come to her senses soon and leave him.

He'd been aggressively clingy for days after that.

Rushed out to find him toe to toe with Scott, chest pushed up against the smaller man to prevent him from coming inside.

"Logan?" she shrilled in panic, trying to figure out whether he hated Scott more or less then Bobby.

Scott looked over Logan's shoulder at her, frowning deeply. Rogue gulped, wondered what would be the consequences of her stupidity. "I came to collect you for your appointment with Jean, Rogue."

"Yeah?" Logan taunted, ignoring the displeased look Scott was shooting at them, "since when do you escort students to see Jean? Superhero work not keeping you busy enough?"

"I was merely walking by when I remembered that Jean told me you have an appointment … and since she is my student …" he let that fill the room, making Logan bristle dangerously, "I decided I would come remind her in case she forgot."

"If you want to say something just fucking say it Summers. Stop with all this cloak-and-dagger bullshit."

Rogue's head snapped up. This was not good. Not good at all, especially since she wouldn't be able to do anything but run out of their way and scream for Jean to get Scott's blood type ready if they decided to go at it. "Logan! Stop!" she yelled, forcing her way in front of him, careful to give Scott enough warning so that he could step out of the way of her skin.

He continued to glare down at Scott, an unmoving force no matter how much she pushed and shoved at him.

"Mr Summers, thank you - could you just give me a minute, I need - need to brush my hair," she asked him politely, hands braced against Logan.

Scott looked like he wanted to argue, even opened his mouth to say something but then let it clamp shut and stepped a few feet away from the door. Rogue closed it, locked it and turned around to face Logan.

"I can't believe you're siding with that piece of shit!" he exploded, loud enough for several Scott's in nearby states to hear.

Rogue recoiled, thought of telling him to whisper but knew better. "I'm not!" she argued back, voice attempting to stay at a reasonable pitch.

"Sure sounded like it to me!"

Sometimes, it seemed like all they ever did anymore was fight. Fight after fight, then one tiny moment of peace that teased her cruelly, then more fighting.

She huffed, marched over to grab her comb from the dressing table and dragged it roughly through her hair.

"Marie, I'm fucking talking to you," Logan snarled. Scott knocked on the door. Logan gave it a dismissive glare and turned back to her. "I can take you to see Jean … Well?" She said nothing. "I asked you a goddamn question Marie!" he yelled loudly, an Adamantium fist lashed out to thump against and through their dresser.

Scott was pounding at the door and calling her name now.

Rogue slammed the brush down, stormed past him, face turned away from that hole - face turned away from their problems - evading his fingers, and swung the door open. It rebounded against the wall and almost hit her in the side but Logan jerked forward and grabbed it quickly - shooting Scott a menacing glare over her head as if it had been his fault. "Yes?" she asked, jaw clenched, wincing at the near miss, eyes reddening.

Scott stepped back, startled, and made to force his way inside. "You -" he paused, shot her a quick once over to make sure she was in one piece, went back to glaring at Logan. "You son of a bitch," he swore, a slight hesitation in his voice because he wasn't used to swearing in front of students - ex-student now, trying to step around her.

She yanked up her sleeves and stepped in front of him, using her skin to keep him outside. "Is there something you wanted Mr Summers?" she asked, her voice breaking despite her efforts.

Scott stopped glowering at Logan, jerked away quickly from her bare skin and looked down at her, concern and wary surprise filling his face. "Are you okay Rogue? I heard -"

She shook her head, felt anger swirl up inside her. "I'm fine. Of course I'm fine." Logan stepped forward, ready for a fight, furious at the implication, she twisted one hand back to keep him at bay too but he only stepped into it. Her bare palm bent backwards against his bare chest. She jerked it off and gave him a beseeching look over her shoulder.

He snarled, bared his teeth at Scott threateningly and ambled daringly slow into the bathroom.

Slammed the door closed hard enough to shake the photos she'd made him hang up.

"It sounded like he was-" Scott repeated worriedly.

Her nostrils flared, "Mr Summers, I don't mean to be rude but do people normally come knocking on your door when you and Dr Grey have a fight?"

His mouth fell open, surprise evident on his face. She was just as shocked at her daring - waited for him to threaten her with detention but carried on with a little elated trepidation when he didn't.

"Kind of rude right?" she continued, wanting to take out months of frustration on him. Months of having people whisper, and comment, and stare at them. Months of supervision and veiled talks about not letting him push her into doing things. Months of debates about how it was damn convenient that she had said they'd only started having sex when she was seventeen, and by the way, wasn't that also the age of consent in New York? Months of seeing that heart-stopping smile slide of his face and stay gone for so long that she often forgot what it looked like.

Months of feeling this seething, roiling tension build up inside him - inside them - and wondering how they would explode this time round.

Scott stiffened, got ready to say more but Rogue had had enough. She toed on her shoes, sans one sock, with badly brushed hair and not even cream on her face, and stormed out the door followed by Scott, slammed the door behind her. "Shall we go?" she asked him just as stiffly, "I don't want to be late." Wondered if she should go back and say goodbye to Logan but didn't have the energy to diffuse another argument.

He nodded, folded his hands behind his back and kept pace with her, head down as he walked.

She hated tense silences. "It's my uh … twenty weeks check up today," she said inanely.

He looked up at her, nodded and went back to staring at the ground.

She sighed noiselessly and thanked him as he opened a door for her.

"I went to your room first," he finally said. Rogue stopped walking. He turned to look back at her, waited for her to catch up to him. "… You weren't there."

Shit. "I - went to - to see Logan." She had hoped he had been too distracted by the fight to remember that.

"Oh. And why was that?"

She gulped, felt herself start to sweat. Smiled as innocently as she could at him. "To wake him up. For breakfast."

He arched a brow, looked pointedly at her damp hair, "and then … you decided to take a bath there?"

Her eyes fell shut. "Shower actually," she mumbled.

Scott ignored that, "you know what the Professor said, until you turn eighteen you're not allowed to -"

God this was ridiculous, "I'm pregnant! Not like I could get anymore pregnant."

His lips thinned, "maybe if you had followed the rules you wouldn't be in such a state in the first place."

"What state?" she asked slowly, her eyes narrowed. Daring him to continue, because if he did she would gladly go running to Logan. Watch as he pounded Scott into a two-dimensional shape and then apologize to the Professor for ruining the carpet.

"Seventeen and pregnant," he shot back without preamble.

Her legs didn't start sprinting towards Logan, instead tears swelled at her eyes. Tired tears. "You don't understand -" she pleaded. Voice thick.

"Oh I don't," Scott shot back, "and personally, I don't want to."

She swiped at her wet cheeks, anger coursing through her again. Hormones driving her crazy. "We don't need to explain ourselves to you. It's one month, one more month. And anyway we've spoken to the Professor and he said -"

"Whether it's one month or one hour - it makes all the difference. And don't you go thinking that the Professor is okay with you like this. Don't think we haven't had a gander at how you got into this state either. He's a grown man, I'm pretty sure he should know how to put on a - a condom."

She blinked guiltily. Proving him right.

"You don't understand," she repeated, trying not to cower childishly under his authority. "We - we haven't got long, we-"

Scott threw a palm up and waved her explanation away, "I've heard it. It's sad. It is, I'm not saying it isn't. But making you a teenage mother wasn't the way to fix things. How old are you going to be when those 30 so called years are up?"

"… Forty eight," she answered obediently in a small, scared voice, ears wide open even though something told her to run away screaming. Don't listen! Don't listen! Don't list-

"-Logan doesn't even look forty Rogue … not even close."

She flinched, stumbled backwards and tried to find a wall to lean on.

Scott watched her, hands reaching instinctively to steady her, but pulled away when he remembered who she was.

Take pity on me, she wanted to tell him. Please goddamn it, take pity on me.

"If we say he looks - thirty-five, then you have - what? Seventeen years? … Maybe a couple more then that before you look older … how old will you be in seventeen years Rogue?" he persisted, digging so deep into her that she was surprised he wasn't choking on her bones.

Choking on her baby.

She didn't answer. Couldn't answer.

She couldn't even breathe.

"What will you do when you're alone, raising a teenager by yourself?" he asked softly.

At the age she was now, it seemed like the scariest thing possible.

They hadn't really discussed it, the future - their future, avoided the whole topic actually, as if it was a minefield they had to dodge. Something dangerous. Something that they should put out of their thoughts in order to stay sane.

"I don't care!" she shrilled, "I love him! I don't care whether I only have one year, or one day, or one fucking second!" Had she just sworn at her teacher? God, what did it matter? "I just want it to be with him. Why can't you all understand that?" He was her one chance of happiness, giving her things she'd thought had become impossible for her - and they were trying to take him away.

Their attempts alone were killing them.

Scott went silent, he tried to stay calm and collected, when he felt ready, he looked back at her. "Okay. You're nearly eighteen. You can do that. We can't stop you. Not like we can turn back time, get you un-pregnant. But just remember that now; it isn't just about you and him. You've brought a child into it, a baby. You two have decided that you're strong enough to deal with what comes after, but you have no idea what will happen seventeen years down the line … How could you have taken that kind of risk with your baby? Giving him an absentee father and a mother who has never had a chance to grow up, never learnt how to be someone by herself so that she can be someone after his father leaves? Be the kind of someone who has the strength to be a single mother."

"Stop," she pleaded, sobbing now, unable to move, unable to run away. Her mind flooding her with new visions. Visions of her floundering in depression while her teenage son learnt how to cook, clean and pay the bills.

"What the hell are you going to tell your son? Are you going to tell him that his father's dead? Are you going to mourn him as if he is, while he's still alive? Are you going to lie, Rogue? Are you going to imagine that he's happy somewhere else with another seventeen year old just so that he could have another seventeen years of life?"

The air punched out of her.

Now another vision, one of a tall lanky boy with the beginnings of a straggly beard asking how his father died. And older looking her hesitating briefly, wondering what lie to tell him. Natural causes? Car accident? Drug overdose? Murdered?

She felt bile swirl up inside of her.

"What would your baby think when he finds out that the truth is that his father impregnated his mother when she was seventeen with every intention of leaving her in seventeen years? That his father didn't have the goddamn balls to do the right thing for the woman he said he loved? Didn't raise him himself and let her grow up enough to decide whether she wants this at least, couldn't even wait one month. Didn't step aside and let her be with a boy her age …" He sighed, exhaling his anger away. "There are other options Rogue, better ones." Scott said, voice so soft, so tender that she wanted to break down in his arms and beg him to write down the solution on the white board. Show her a slide show just in case she still didn't get it. "Many couples -"

"Hey …" interrupted Jean, sweeping into their corridor, wearing her white coat. "Is uh - everything okay?" she asked nervously, looking between her and a solemn Scott.

Scott breathed out slowly through his nose, nodded. "We were just - talking. I'm afraid I held her up, my fault entirely."

Jean's eyes narrowed warily at Scott, questions seeding on her lips. "I'm not am I?" Rogue croaked, startling them. They looked at her blankly. "Late? I'm not too late for my check up … am I?"

Jean frowned, took in the state Rogue was in, at the tears she was wiping off with her sleeve, at the distraught look on her face. "No, I was just about to come get you."

Rogue nodded, her head lolling, as if it was too heavy for her to carry, and began walking towards the door. Jean shot Scott another questioning look before following her.


"Everything looks A-Okay!" Jean chirped over exaggeratedly with a grin. "And don't worry if you start getting patchy looking skin, or if your skin feels flaky - or you get rashes, that's all normal. Just drink a lot of water, it'll help with the dryness." Rogue nodded and stared down at her hands. With a frown Jean stepped forwards, slowly letting her latex covered hand hover inches over Rogue's. Rogue blinked slowly as if drugged, studied the foreign hand with its hidden red nails and reinforced latex finish and pulled away. Jean pulled back, a little stung, a little relieved. "Is everything okay Rogue?"

Rogue nodded jerkily, her eyes empty.

Jean tried to smile again, didn't quite manage to make it seem real. "Well!" she exclaimed to cover that up, "I have good news today. You're far along now for us to see what sex it is."

"Oh," Rogue replied softly, twisting her fingers and plucking at her gloves.

"You do want to know the sex right? Or do you want to keep it a surprise?"

Rogue nodded. Jean frowned, made a note to grill Scott later. He'd said something, that was obvious, even though Jean had made him promise to stay out of it. These days Logan was just looking for someone to whale on, and Jean knew he would turn on Scott without any warning if Scott even so much as breathed wrong let alone made Rogue cry.

"Is that a - which was that a yes too?" Jean asked nervously.

Rogue blinked, looked at her as if she didn't recognise her, "the first … we - we want to … know." She blinked again, went back to studying her gloves.

"… Should I call Logan? He probably wants to be here for this right?"

Rogue trembled, nodded again. Jean frowned and then crossed over to the phone, asked to be connected to Logan and worried her lip as she waited for him to answer.


"Wow," Logan whispered, eyes darting down to her belly. "… A girl. I thought it would be a boy."

She swallowed, felt it do nothing to soothe her scratchy throat and twisted round to face him on their bed. "Why … did you want a boy?" Felt failure twist and seethe inside her.

He shrugged, shook his head. "No. Just thought it would be a boy. Girl is nice though." He looked down at her belly again, reached out a finger and followed the dark line that had begun to show carefully from crotch to her belly button.

"Yeah. It is." Closed her eyes and tried to keep the screams inside.


She waited until she was back under control before she opened them again. "Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head to tell him that it was nothing. That she was fine.


He frowned, cupped her face and made her look at him. She spoke first though, before he could. "Do you ever think about our future?" she asked him with a frightened tremor in her voice.

"You're still angry about this morning," he replied, trying not to look annoyed. Changing the topic.

There it was, his answer.

And it wasn't enough. Not now. Now that she was a mother.

So she nodded.

Then she fell into his arms and screamed her heart out - pretended that she was crying over this morning. Being dangerously over the top on purpose because a part of her wanted him to push like always, push and force her thoughts out of that dark, deep well they had fallen into.

Take it out of her hands and give her no alternative but to listen to him.

"Baby - Marie," he called, looking startled - mind on her comment about their future but unwilling to voice it. "Shit Marie, I didn't mean - you know what I'm like. You know I never mean to hurt you -" Willing to let her lie to him. Willing because the truth was a dangerous thing.

"No!" she denied quickly, averse to let him think it was his fault. Even in a lie. "No. I know that - know you didn't mean it."

He frowned, tenderly tried to wipe off the tears, frowned harder when new tears replaced them just as quickly. "It just got to me - what everyone was saying."

She hesitated, hiccupped, decided to just go for it. "Do you … sometimes wish that I hadn't gone to the Professor?"

He shook his head firmly, "no. Never. Never Marie. I don't regret that at all."

She decided to go for broke. Hated what she was about to do but couldn't stop herself, she had to prepare in some way for him to hate her. Had to see whether she could survive seeing him direct that look at her. "I do - sometimes."

He flinched.

Her heart missed a beat.

But she would be lying if she took it back now. She had regretted it a little when her friends had become uncomfortable in her presence, she who was dealing with so much more then they could understand, busy with more then homework, putting up with a husband more then a boyfriend, playing wife rather then spending time giggling with them. Or when she'd heard some whisper dirty, filthy things about them and others pitying her and condemning Logan, wondering why the Professor was allowing this. Regretted it a little when she'd quit school because it became too much for her to bear, and when she'd lied and told Logan that it was because she wanted to focus on being a mother and being with him - spending what time they had left together.

He let her get away with anything when she mentioned the 30 years thing.

Seventeen now.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

It didn't work this time round.

When she was living this life, or a mockery of one, she had been convinced that had they waited - had he waited - things would have been better. Even if they'd had to hide it until she was eighteen or twenty-one.

But now - now she knew that she only had seventeen years with him … Eighteen, twenty-one, whatever age society deemed acceptable, seemed like a subtraction sum to the time she had left with him. Now, she was thankful that Logan had pushed; now she wished he had pushed earlier and told society to go to hell and take their laws with them.

His arms tightened carefully around her, scared to loosen up and lose her, scared to tighten too much and lose what was inside of her. His voice was rigidly controlled, furiously calm, when he decided to speak, "so, have you thought of a name?"

Rogue flinched. Shook her head quickly. Wished he'd fight with her instead of this. But he'd actually gained a little headway into controlling his anger, something he'd started ever since he'd figured out for her that she was pregnant.

"How come?" he asked, still in that dangerously relaxed tone that frightened her far more then him tearing up the room and screaming at her. "You had some good ones before - though I'm going to have to veto Laughlin."

Bile crept up as far as her throat. She swallowed it back down with sickening relish. Remembered that tender memory from so early on in the pregnancy, when everyone had still been numb and shocked into silence from finding out about them, when she'd said that they should name their baby after where they'd met. And his cute comment about how they should then lie and say they met in London, or Paris. "I want to wait until - it's born. See what suits."

He frowned, trying to understand her logic. "What, see if she looks like a name?" he teased, eyes sharpening confusedly.

She nodded jerkily, unable to meet his eyes, and almost wilted in relief when he dropped the subject.

He studied her carefully, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, nodded and turned to go to sleep. "Shouldn't you go back to your room?" he asked casually. "Professor said you're not allowed in here."

"I don't … want to," she whispered to his back. "Logan?"

She could tell by the rigid muscles of his back that he had tensed up. "Yeah?"

"God Logan, touch me, please!"

He twisted back around to her, tilting his head to one side as he scrutinized her. And she knew if she let him continue for a second longer he would figure out everything, every thing she was trying not so hard to hide from him, so she fumbled her way on top of him, quilt twisting around her ankles as she sat on his stomach.

He grinned wolfishly, pleasantly surprised, writhing with re-awakened hunger - distracted - and cupped her hips with large hands that could almost span her, even with her this wide. "You're going to have to move a little lower if you want this to be anatomically possible."

She nodded, stayed where she was, reached down and peppered his face with kisses. Sorry, they told him, sorry, they repeated, because once wasn't enough.

Even if she spent the next thirty years only apologising it still wouldn't be enough.


He groaned, grabbed her cheeks and meshed the lips together roughly, teeth sliced into her and she chose to feel it as pain instead of pleasure. Feel it as punishment instead of overwhelming love that he couldn't control.

Feel it that way because she deserved it. Or she will, soon.

He dipped briefly inside her mouth, savouring her like she was Holiest of Wines. Pulling back and swallowing hard to make sure she went down. Then closed in on her again and lapped at her tears, licked them from their ending point to the corners of her eyes. Sucked at the skin as if pulling the taste of her from her pores.

He hissed, furious at the impediment of her burning skin, unwilling to let go, making Rogue pull back for him with thoughts of her thrashing, screaming and raising furrows on his back while under him in her head. Niggling thoughts of why dancing at the edges of his mind -

He yanked her by the hair back to him, her nose banging into his cheek and continued to lave desperately at her skin, tongue now on her collarbone, biting at the fragile bone and watching the imprints of his teeth slowly fade every time he held on a little too long.

His hands raced back down to her hips, he gripped them, made to twist her carefully underneath him. "No," Rogue whispered, trying to give in to the moment but not able to. "Let me … for you."

He gave her a shark like grin, all teeth, and helped slide her down until she was hovering over his crotch; he surged up against it, grinding into it roughly, cock straining visibly through his sweats.

She leant down and stroked his cheek, but he was too busy pushing himself against her to look at her. She smiled, bent down, pushed her underwear to one side, held it there with one hand, and went back to stroking him. Cheeks, chin, the barely leashed ferocity that raised furrows on his forehead, the soft hair of his eyebrows …

Everything she might lose.

"No," she said, shaking her head as she watched him stretch towards their bedside cabinet.

He looked back at her, confused, "I'm getting a rubber."

She shook her head again, bit her lip guiltily. "I want to - want to feel you inside me." She saw him shiver at her admission, saw his eyes darken further to black chocolate, saw his cock arch up to thump at her entrance demandingly. "I want to … feel you come inside me. I need to."

He gulped, fingers flexing, cock trying to dig its way inside of her through the barrier of cloth. "I -" he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, "I don't think - I don't think I can, not this time, I don't think I can be that quick."

She looked down, the hand she was resting on his chest shaking like a crack addict on withdrawal. "Please Logan - just - just for a little while."

He nodded hastily, uncaring about his own health, reached down to yank down his sweats far enough to pull himself out and laid straight again, with her on top.

"How do I - how does this?" she asked desperately, "do I just sit on it?"

His eyes fluttered closed, sealing away that memory of her to savour and chuckle at later, when he wasn't so desperate to slam inside of her immediately. Like yesterday. When he had time to focus on all the little things that had built up to the big fucking bang. He nodded quickly, held himself steady with one hand and watched as she positioned herself over him, squatting uncomfortably, looking ungainly and wishing that he would give her a bit more direction.

The tip touched her, she shot him a questioning look then relaxed a little when he nodded, keening softly for her to hurry. Slowly she let the head nudge inside, Logan gasped, jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his neck were visible, lost the battle as the heat emanating from her beckoned to him, and arched up inside her, fully seated.

Rogue screamed. Eyes wide in shock.

Logan's closed eyes snapped open; he stared at her in confusion - with hurt.

She blinked back the tears, gave him a wobbly smile, "it's okay."

His cock twitched, he hissed, moved a little inside of her then stilled, looking more disconcerted when she groaned tearfully and began to spasm on top of him.

"It's okay …" she repeated, cursing herself for crying. For ruining this for him. "I'm okay."

He whimpered, moved a little more. Wished he was fucking human enough to pull out or at least try a little harder, make her wet for him. But as usual, now that he was here, all he could focus on was her, and him, and that instinctive need to fill her up with him.

Something that he wasn't allowed to do for another month. Something he is going to do right the fuck now.

Rogue braced herself, clenched down around him and was rewarded with a guttural cry. Logan's head twisted wildly on the pillow, he surged out of her and slammed back inside hard enough to jostle her, digging into her hips to hold her there as he burrowed inside that intoxicating heat.

"Marie I can't - I need - condom. Can't -" he slurred dizzily, so deep inside of her that Rogue thought he might be inside places he shouldn't be. Worming his way towards areas that were still untouched by him.

Changing that.

Rogue nodded, sobbed at his loss more then the pain and kneeled up so that he could reach under her and sheath himself. Protect himself; prevent her from touching places she should never have been able to.

She was back on him before he could pull her down, and he expressed his surprise at her eagerness with a deep groan, head slamming back onto the pillow, twisting it into an uncomfortable downy lump.

She moved up and down him, her inexperience showing in the way her movements never managed to mesh with his. Her legs tiring out within minutes, muscles refusing to neither go up nor down ever again.

She slumped on top of him, huffing, puffing, legs trembling like jelly in the hands of a toddler. Her insides raw and burning. Her forehead, wet, dripping, fell onto his chest, making their sweat mix together. Like other parts of them had mixed.

No. No, don't think about it.

"Marie," Logan whimpered, shaking her, "please - move. I - fuck Marie, move!"

She lifted her head up tiredly, tried to lift her hips too, they made a half-hearted effort - almost separated from him even, but then a painful quiver ran through her and she collapsed again. "I can't," she cried, feeling all her failures. All the things she couldn't give him.

He swore desperately, twisted and had her underneath him in one fluid moment, with his hand cupping her stomach carefully, ruined only by her flailing limbs.

She seemed to do that a lot.

He hitched her legs up around his waist, let go and frowned as it fell back down, he reached for it again and then changed his mind when he saw how her legs had fallen open. In an upside down 'V' around him, her unruly brown curls not quite dense enough to hide that secret pink inside.

He licked his lips, already able to taste her, already knowing how much he's going to like this. Knelt down, hands holding her shivering thighs to the bed and looked up at her. She lifted her head from the pillow, looked back at him and then let her head fall back.


His tongue snaked out, licked at her slit roughly, making her jerk and tremble. But she stayed put, surprising him, making him wonder why she wasn't opposed to this, why she wasn't making him have to push her into it.

He kissed her there, didn't remove his mouth but instead let it heat her, testing her, then his tongue came out again, unable to stay still any longer, slid over her lips, surged inside, found what he was looking for and latched on.

She flailed, legs nerveless and limp but hands digging into his scalp to pull him off. Hips arching upwards to keep him there. Undecided at how to feel at such an intense explosion that left her screaming, feeling raw, and used, and wanting to cry.

Because she didn't deserve to feel like this.

She lifted her head again, torturing herself with the sight of him supplicating her, lips and chin wet with a slickness that was thicker then water. Tongue and fingers being used to lick up every last bit of her that was on him. Letting nothing go to waste.

He looked delirious, used his fingers to scissor her open and started to lap at her, she recoiled away from him. "No," she sobbed, "don't. It's too … much," she half lied. "I want you in me Logan. Please."

He gulped, looked wistfully back at the fingers that held her splayed open and vulnerable. The prettiest pussy he had ever seen, but moved to hover over her enthusiastically at the thought of being inside of her.

One twist of his hips and he was in her with a snarl. Bucking in, squeezing her breast with one hand, more surprises came his way when she fumbled roughly with the buttons on her shirt, pulling it open, pushing her bra up, pulling his head down to her naked nipple.

Harder - no softer, softer please, small and fluttery - and gentle, she thinks. But Logan is anything but gentle, especially when it comes to her. He suckles like he wants to swallow her down, making her hiss and fight the urge to push him away, leaving a livid red bruise in the shape of his mouth and teeth.

Lock. Key.

I belong here, it says. Only I fit here. And now, only I ever will. Mine.

She pushed him off, feeling sick, wondering if she had held on too long and had sucked in his thoughts.

He panted, looking fine, licking at his lips as if her nipple was still trapped inside there, bent down to cushion his chin on her shoulder, twisted her head around so that he could whisper in her ear while he took up a faster rhythm inside of her.

"I love you Marie. Fuck, I love you Marie. I'll always love you, love you more then anything baby," she whimpered, tried to pull her head away. He held on tighter. His captive audience. "I love you Marie, I'd die without you. I'd die."

She was wet this time, but it hurt more then ever. Made her first time pale in comparison.


He was a late riser, wouldn't get out of bed before noon unless she begged, and chided and nagged for a good half hour. But this morning, she decided to let him sleep in.

She got up, heard him mutter something that rumbled in his chest and became incomprehensible, but knew it had been her name. Saw it confirmed when his hand snaked over to her side in search of her, brow furrowing in his sleep when nothing but air touched him back.

Left a note saying she was going out with the girls.


"Had fun?" he asked curiously - carefully.

She couldn't meet his eyes, "yep."

"Are things okay with them now?" he asked, attempting nonchalance as he watched her toe off her sandals and rub at her sore feet.

"I think it's improving. It was a little tense at first - but got better," she replied, trying not to babble, knowing he'd see through that immediately. "… They want to go out again. Tomorrow."

She was too far along for it to be over in one day, they had finished the first part today, the actual - well, it would all be over by tomorrow.

"Again? Do you have to?" Logan grunted, annoyed. Nonchalance dropped. "I don't see why you're even bothering with them. Real fucking friends wouldn't have pushed you away in the first place."

"I know - just, I miss them, you know?" she pleaded, trying not to let the guilt shine out of her.

He stiffened, glowering at the thought that he wasn't enough for her. "Fine. Fine. But this is their last fucking chance. They mess up again …" he warned.

"… I know …" Wondered if he'd apply the two warning rule to her too.


Teenage Marie was crying, begging her not to kill Logan's baby. Beaming pictures of a little wriggling girl with hazel eyes, unruly hair and a temperament that could have the Dalai Lama reaching for a weapon straight into her skull.

Clever Marie was crying too.

But even that Marie understood that she had to do this, that this was the only way, no matter how much the younger Marie screamed that there were always other ways - that she and Logan would figure something out. Together.


One word - one goddamn look from Logan and she would give up. She would give it all up and let it happen … she couldn't let that happen. He couldn't know. Not until it was too late.

It was the grown up part of her who whispered aloud that fear of hers … That he would hate her … that he would leave her.

The little girl who hadn't yet disappeared couldn't understand that though, nuh uh, she stated, not ever. Logan loved her, and that was all there was to it.

But why did she have to test that?

"Miss?" called the receptionist, "you're up. Have you paid?"

Rogue nodded, stood shakily and looked back at the exit. One last time at the past behind her, which suddenly seemed so perfect even with the fights, the not talking, the sobbing in frustration in the shower, the rough hurried sex that left him even more angrier then before.

Seemed so much more perfect compared to the unknown future she was heading for.

She nodded again.

Took that first step.

She'd be lying if she'd said she didn't keep stopping to look back.


"Now I'm afraid it's mandatory that you call someone to take you home - did they not tell you that when you came the first time?" the smiling nurse asked.

Rogue nodded, "I'll - I'll call him." The woman had turned to leave when Rogue called her back. "Ma'am? My - my baby … can I see her?"

The nurse blinked in surprise and the smile slid off her face, for a second she remembered exactly where she worked, what her job was and how, no matter how you dressed it up, it still felt a little like murder when someone called it a baby instead of a foetus. She tried to look professional again, "I'm afraid that isn't advisable."

"Why not? Please - I just - just want to see her. I swear I won't make a scene."

The Nurse began to stutter, looked around for someone more suited to deal with this but found no one nearby. "I'm uh … afraid that the uh - ba - foetus is not -" she gulped, rushed through the rest of it. "Is not in any state to be viewed."

Rogue stared woodenly back at her, her mind wandering back to the medical jargon that she had hardly been able to grasp at the first check up. "Not in … any state …"

"… Yes … they've probably disposed of it by now anyway."


Logan's hazel-eyed baby girl - disposed like garbage.

The bile that had been living half way up her throat made a spectacular exit … and she didn't feel better for it.


Mr Summers was sweating. If she'd still been his student, Rogue figured she would have earned a lifetime of detentions and then some.

She'd prefer it to the alternative.

"I didn't, god I didn't -" he paused, swiped a hand over his sticky brow and stared up at the mansion. "I didn't mean this!"

Rogue crumpled further into the door of his sporty Audi, hands unwilling to touch her empty stomach, still pregnant looking despite the fact that there was nothing inside anymore. "Thank you for the ride Mr Summers," she answered monotonously.

"Rogue!" he yelled after her as she opened the car door and stepped out carefully, still careful despite the fact that there was nothing to be careful for.

She ignored him, limped her way up the mansion stairs and past Logan's room. Entered hers and curled up on the now mostly unfamiliar bed with no sheets or pillowcases on it.

No sheets. No pillowcases. Hardly any of her clothes in the dresser. None of her favourite knick-knacks lying strategically around. Only the picture of her and Bobby still lay on the floor.

Her past.

Her future, if Logan didn't want her anymore.

She cradled her empty belly with shaky, frightened hands and sobbed into the naked quilt.


It said a lot about how used to her staying with him, despite the careful supervision, he was that it took him quite a while to finally track her down to her old room.

"Jesus fucking Christ Marie!"he yelled, eyes wide with worry but steadily growing narrow with anger when he saw her slumped on the bed. Safe. "Do you know how fucking worried I've been? Do you know how many times I tried to call your fucking phone?"

She tried to push herself up, fell back down when her arm, limp from supporting her head, refused to take the weight. "I'm sorry," she whispered, wanted to tell him to whisper too because people didn't shout at funerals.

"You're sorry?" he looked incredulous, then suspicious and finally a little scared, "… where the hell have you been?"

"I -" she gulped, felt the truth bubble and froth inside her mouth. "I told you - went out with the girls again - forgot to keep an eye on the time. Sorry." She wanted to not have him hate her for a little while longer.

His eyes narrowed further. His mouth thinned, his hands flexed nervously. "I spoke to your friends, thing is, they didn't know what the fuck I was going on about." Her eyes danced away from him, darting over to the fallen picture frame to avoid looking at him. "How 'bout you try again - and tell me the truth this time."

"I told you," she repeated desperately, tears collecting in her eyes, "I went out with friends. You don't - don't know them, you -"

He blanched, reached out to twist her chin around to face him. "What did you do?" he rushed out. Rogue quivered, shut her eyes. Shut him out. "Marie!" he shook her. "Marie what did you do?"

A sob tore out of her; Logan's grip on her chin began to spasm painfully. "I'm - I'm sorry Logan! God I'm sorry! But I had to, I had to!"

"Do what? Marie fucking look at me! Tell me what you did?"

Rogue opened her eyes but couldn't look at him for more then a few seconds.

Sinners weren't able to meet the gaze of the righteous. And the look in Logan's eyes hurt like hellfire.

"I - the - our baby -" she stuttered in-between hoarse sobs.

Logan leapt away from her, shock evident on his face - shock at the fact that she had been capable of this. "No," he stated firmly, shaking his head to make it more real. "No." His thin lips wobbling as the truth hit his unwilling mind. "No!"

He started towards her, she shrieked, fell back on her elbows on the bed and shuffled back, hands curling around her baby. Instinct not yet catching up to the fact that there was nothing there to protect, that there might not even be anything to live for. "Please Logan! Mr Summers, he -" A little childish part of her wanted to get the heat of her, wanted to never see him look at her that way again. Was even willing to do whatever was necessary to salvage this.

She regretted it immediately when she saw the fury overflow in Logan's eyes.

He might have looked at her with hellfire in his eyes - but this, this was ten times worse.

"Logan!" she screamed watching him tear the door open and disappear. Rogue shot to her feet and ran after him, wincing as abused muscles inside of her rebelled against movement of any kind.

Paused at an intersection and wondered which way he had gone, stopped wondering when screams came from the left.

Burst huffing, puffing and clutching low on her stomach into an empty classroom. Two girls and a boy two years or so younger then her were huddled against the far wall, one of them, a blonde girl with green eyes, who she knew was called Megan, was still screaming.

Jean was sobbing, eyes fearful, hands stretched beseechingly towards Logan.

Mr Summers lay on the floor, mouth frothing with spit and blood, one side of his face swelling nastily in the shape of Logan's fist.

Logan sat astride him, fist pulling back, aiming recklessly. Uncaring about how delicate an equipment the other's man's glasses were.

"Logan!" she wailed breathlessly, unable to look away from the pain in Jean's eyes. The way Rogue could almost see her heart getting ready to burst. She felt a strange kinship bloom within her. They both loved their men more then was sensible. But Rogue loved Logan more then was safe. "Logan don't! He didn't do anything! It was me - it was me!"

Logan clenched his jaw, looked down at Scott, who was breathing wetly, roared and buried his claws right next to the man's head.

Scott began to spasm as if in his death throes. Jean screamed; fell to her knees, hand thrown out impotently to help him some way.

Snarling, Logan yanked his claws out from the cracked floor, got to his feet and marched out without looking at anyone.

Without looking at her.

No one was surprised to hear the roar of a motorbike.

Not even her.

Still hurt though.


Four days.

Four days of self-induced isolation.

Four days of starting to lose the will to live.

Four days without Logan.

She'd come out of her haze of tears every now and then to eat and listen to someone try to speak to her through the door. Begging her to come out and talk to them. Telling her that they were leaving food outside. Even her old friends had tried to get through to her.

They all failed.

She passed her time wondering where he was. Wondering if he was safe. Wondering if he was finding a way to let the pain tear into him like she was - she always started crying again when she thought of that.

She thought about it a lot.


She coughed, swallowed dry air and reached blindly for the glass of water on the bedside cabinet.

"You killed her."

Rogue sat up in shock, ignoring the creak of her body, which had grown so unused to movement, and saw Logan staring at her from across the room. Arms crossed, face falsely impassive.

"Logan!" she called, fingers itching to reach for him. To check him over for any signs of change since he'd left. "You're -" Then what he had said hit her.

Felt like a sixteen wheeler through the heart.

Rogue sobbed, covered her face with her hands, and felt her eyes squeeze out tears despite how dry she felt.

"Did you think that would be it?" he asked, stepping closer, reeking of alcohol, sweat, blood and anger. "Think I couldn't do it again?"

Rogue stilled, uncovered her face and looked up at him. She blinked in response and found herself torn off the bed, hauled across the room and shoved across the desk, face down with air caressing her thighs as her nightgown was pushed up her waist.

She tried to twist her head around to look at him, eyes wide with shock as her underwear was pushed down as well. He quickly pressed his palm against her skull, preventing her from turning, wanting to treat her as badly as she had treated him. She heard the sounds of a belt - his belt, being unbuckled, a zip being pulled down.

Felt a hesitant prod at her entrance before he plunged in with a moan that sounded more in pain then hers.

His thigh slapped again her, the desk edge dug into her skin and her still tender insides stung like a swollen bruise. She gritted her teeth, whimpered and begged him not too - begged him half-heartedly … begged him silently to take it out of her hands.

Because she couldn't go through it again. She wouldn't. She didn't have the strength.

"Think I can't get you pregnant again?" he snarled against her neck, teeth catching the skin there, cock tightening up. "Think - think …" Tears splashed onto her, wetting the back of her neck. Wetting her eyes. His breath hitched as her mutation began to tug at him, and for once, she wanted to hold on, wanted to feel how much he hated her. But he jerked out of her viscously before any of that came through, came on her back, her thighs, and crumpled against the side of the bed, face hidden against his knees. "You - why don't you want my baby?" he asked, voice hoarse, pleading, and smaller then she had ever believed his could get.

Her heart missed a whole bunch of beats.

Rogue jerked her head from side to side frantically, letting her dress fall back in place, pulling up her underwear, ignoring the stickiness on her body, the stickiness trailing out of her body, and hobbled over to kneel in front of him. "I wanted her more then anything! More then anything Logan!" she swore, eyes fevered with loss that was still sharp despite four days and the fact that she had never even held her child. Didn't matter though, she could still feel the weight of a phantom baby in her stomach.

Would probably always feel it.

Logan looked up at her, his heart pulsing in his eyes. "Then why?"he begged, "why did you do that? Why did you listen to him? Why didn't you tell me?"

She closed her eyes, ashamed, old enough now to realise that she had done him the biggest wrong in not telling him. In not giving him the benefit of the doubt that he might have agreed with her, might have held her hand in the waiting room.

Still not yet old enough to have thought of this first though, before it had happened.

"He - he said some things." Logan tensed, a snarl rising from his throat, "Logan, he was right … He never told me to get an -" her eyes flitted up to his; she thought it was best she avoided that word. "… I came to that conclusion by myself … Logan, we have thirty years with each other." She wasn't going to tell him about the seventeen. If he wanted to lie to her, she'd let him. They'd figure it out as they went along. Now that the only people it would hurt, was the two that it was about. "How could we put our baby through what we're going through?"

"Jesus Marie she would have been thirty fucking years old by then!" Logan yelled, anger rising again just to negate the tears in his eyes.

Or seventeen.

"Fine … then her kids. Or any other kids we might have had after her. What right do we have to put them through this hell?" Logan winced; she regretted it but knew she had to carry on in this tone to make sure he got it. To make sure he knew how serious she found it. How much she had thought it through before kill- no, she wasn't quite ready to say those words out loud. "I can't touch Logan -"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. Not to you, but how do you know whether or not it'll matter to her? I couldn't touch my parents. Do you know how much it hurt my mother to see me flinch away from her? Do you know how much it hurt me when she would reach out to touch me then pulled away when she remembered? Why do you think I ran away? … How am I going to go through the rest of my life without touching my baby? … How much can she love me when I - I can't touch her?" Humans needed touch, they withered without it, otherwise her mutation wouldn't have invoked such pity from everyone. "One accident -" she shivered at the very thought, "one little accident … it'll hurt a lot more when we've learnt to love her."

"So you did this for what-ifs?"

"I'm a mother - maybe I was only one for twenty weeks, but I was still a mother. What-ifs matter a hell of a lot to us." She saw Logan's face harden, saw him clench his jaw and turn away from her. Not understanding. Not willing to understand. This bit was going to hurt, because he would never understand if she said the problem lay with her. She could get Jean to support her with medical babble and the Professor to delve into their brains and he'd still turn his nose up at it. "And you …" he tensed. "In thirty years time your daughter will look your age … You told me you'd leave me because you couldn't bear seeing me look at you differently, couldn't bear seeing me hate you - what about her? … Jesus Logan, we were about to give our baby a mother who she couldn't touch and a father who'd outlive her."

It hit home.

She drove it in deeper. Crying for the both of them because it hurt like hell admitting to how messed up they were, pointing out how crazy it was for them to be together - hoping that neither she nor Logan would take that to heart and run for the hills.

"I know you. You said you'd die without me … I - I believe you … Thing is Logan … I'd die without you too." She wondered if it was safe to touch him now, her skin was pulsing with the urge to feel him against her but she didn't dare. She didn't think she'd survive it if he pushed her away. "How can we put our children - our daughter, through that?"

Logan slumped his forehead down on his arm, hiding from her, his back arched like a bristling feline ready to strike. Telling everyone to stay the fuck away.

"I couldn't do that to you Logan," her sobbing was making it hard to talk by now, but she pushed on, "I couldn't give you someone else to lose. I love you so much, too much to do that to you. God Logan please, please … please don't leave me! … Me and you … that has to be enough," she pleaded. It had been enough once, before, but Rogue knew it would take a lot to forget how it felt to feel his baby growing inside of her and not feel empty now that she was gone. "Isn't it?"

Logan tilted his head back on the bed edge, eyes still tinged with red that would soon disappear, looked up at the ceiling and exhaled. "It is," he replied finally, making her almost slump to the floor in relief.

Rogue knew it would take a lot for him too, a lot to forget that erratic thump thump of an invisible foot hitting him through her belly.

But they'd manage. They won't forget. Not ever. But they'd manage.


"Logan please, think things through first," the Professor begged, mind sharp and ready just in case he decided to attack Scott again, picking up thoughts of a tearful Rogue standing outside the door.

"I have thought things through - we're leaving," Logan answered, throwing a thick envelope down on the desk, along with the keys to Scott's bike.

"What is this?" the Professor asked, picking up the stuffed envelope.

"Money. It should cover some of our costs: board, food, travel, her school fees - doctor checkups, clothes. I'll send an envelope with money every month -"

"Logan that isn't necessary-"

"Yes it is," Logan gritted out, unwilling to be in their debt. Unwilling to have anything to do with them anymore. "We're not coming back. Not ever." Not after what he had lost here. Not after what he had almost lost here. Not after finding out that a few months under their scrutiny had turned him into the kind of guy whose girl didn't dare share her fears with.

Scott stepped forward, got a warning look from the Professor but ignored it. "I -" he winced at the pain speech bought him but struggled his way through it. "I didn't mean -"

"Save it Summers," Logan warned, fists clenched tight enough on the desk to endanger it. "You killed my kid - sorry isn't going to cover that." He needed someone to hate. Needed someone to blame that wasn't him. Wasn't her. Turned to leave, opened the door, saw Rogue still where he had told her to be and gripped her wrist. "If I ever see you again, I'm going to put six holes through your fucking skull."


Marie slumped limply against the window and watched the mansion disappear. She didn't know how she felt about it, on one hand she had made friends there; it had even become a home of sorts. On the other hand, she was glad to see the back of it. They had much more problems to face in their future and it was better that they faced it alone rather then have a mansion full of worried people whose opinion mattered to them - or maybe just her - adding to their problems, throwing in their thoughts on the matter.

"Where are we going?" she asked softly, bitten nails picking at the rip in the leather seat of the second hand truck he'd gone out and bought. Dragging her with him because he hadn't been able to let her out of his sight.

"Away," he answered, teeth clamped rigidly on a stinky cigar.

She didn't have to ask him to know that this was a forever kind of away. "What about our stuff?"

"I'll buy you new fucking stuff Marie," he gritted out angrily, tearing out of the driveway and turning left without signalling, as if afraid the X-Men would come running out and stop them from leaving.

"Oh …" and for some reason that made her cry.

Logan shot her a frightened look, shoved his teeth into his cigar and reached out to pull her to him, slid her across the seat and pushed her down so that her head lay on his leg. "You're not going to miss it," he asked. He stated. Wanting it to be true.

She decided to answer it as a question.

She shook her head. Too much hurt lived back there. Months of hurt. Four days of agony. Four days in which she'd figured out that only he mattered. She could live without friends, even live without a baby, but she couldn't live without him. Wouldn't. "No."

He sighed, shoulders curving in relief at both her answer and at the disappearance of the Mansion's gates far behind them, ignored his cigar and reached down to stroke her tangled mess of a hair. "Me and you … that is enough right?" he asked, frightened, fingers tightening on the brown and white strands.

She closed her eyes, nodded, wincing when her hair caught in his fingers. "It's always been enough … It's - it's been more then I ever thought I could have."

He smiled. Not fully, just a slight lifting up at one corner. But it was enough.

AN: The words 'Lucy! You sure got some explainin' to do!!!' comes to mind right now. Gah, where to start.

Firstly, lets start this on a positive note and pretend you all liked it. When I started writing The Marks of His Affection I never thought I'd be writing two more parts due to demand let alone how well it would do. The very fact that my wonderful reviewers (of which you are one of. HINT!) left such long, detailed reviews (lol HINT!) speaks for itself and I would once again like to say that there are no better reviewers then Roganers (such a HINT!).

There are also many people to thank. All my readers, of course, and all my reviewers (THAT'S YOU!), those people who've put this story on their favourites and those first five people on fanfictiondotnet who made me decide to do a sequel in the first place: Dulcesweet (still, mmm), Askita, , Laroka and Ebony10. Without you five part two and three would have never happened (if you didn't like it, flame them, it's their fault, lol). And thanks to liasionfan96706 (couldn't have chosen an easier penname?! - not that I can talk), for unconsciously making me decide to go with my first idea about the pregnancy.

An extra special thanks to Askita, who, when I was panicking about readers expectations for part 3 wrote me wonderful ego boosting emails telling me to calm down (she also told me not to worry since it's not like you'd all kill me … right? … hopefully… *runs and hides*).

Now the bad part.

I want to sincerely apologise to all those readers who wanted Sabretooth, Carol Danvers, immortality serums, Merlin and a few other things that would help fix Rogue's problems. By now you've probably realised that I am a terrible person who might apparently be an anti-Roganer in disguise … destroying from within, lol. I wanted to make this as realistic as possible (thanks to those reviewers who praised me for my realism and made me decide to continue to write that way), and all those mentioned above seemed like the easy way out. This was about showing how the two worst people to get involved, did so - and their relationship could never be all sunsets and candy corn (mmmm).

Oh and a BIG apology AND Logan covered in nothing but nachos (with all the works) for all those readers who had freaked about the 30 years thing. Bet I didn't make you feel any better when you found out I'd shortened it even further. *Hands over Logan with strategically placed Jalapeño peppers*

Also, there is another story … one I wrote before this, which would uh … satisfy your desires for Logan and Marie staying together and having kids. It's called Facing Eternity.

Now for the abortion … now I have to say that I'm agnostic in all aspects of my life. I believe it's up to you since it's you that are going through it - not me. Just because I write about it doesn't mean I believe it - although I have to say that the methods used to kill the baby sickened me, just felt like they weren't giving it any respect. I don't want to go into it … traumatising.

Oh and if any of you wanted to read the rest of Sonnet 116 mentioned at the beginning here it is:

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.

William Shakespeare

Sonnet 116

Quite umm appropriate isn't it, for this story - or for Roganers everywhere.

And look out for more of my stories, the ones already up and the ones coming up. I even have two more Rogan fics in the work.