I tend to get angsty around Valentine's Day. So, this is a short, emotional break from my usual humor. Maybe it's just to see if I'm good at it. Don't worry folks, this'll be short and sweet… Well, not 'sweet' persay…



There are several facts that are true of every human being. They breathe, sleep, eat, drink, crave, cry, and die. In fact, if you wanted to break it down, that's all a human being ever does.

It was silly to think that a mutant would be any different.

Mutants can love just like humans.

Mutants can get sick just like humans.

Mutants can die just like humans.

And those were the constant thoughts thrumming through the Xavier Institute on this very quiet, very cold, very grey day where the bitterly cold winds bit at any exposed flesh and tore at the bare trees, beckoning towards the thick grey sky which held the sun hostage, leaving the entire grounds dark and empty.

Ororo had made coffee that no one drank. Hank had made breakfast that no one ate. Both of them understood life had to go on. But the young and vulnerable couldn't grasp the concept. Jamie couldn't quell his sobs. John had fallen into an uncharacteristic, nearly comatose state where he could only stare at the fire blooming in the fire place with silent tears streaking down his face. Piotr had secluded himself in his room, sketching violently across canvases in dark colors, trying to convince himself that this was somehow his fault. Logan had turned to drinking, unsure of how he was supposed to respond. Scott kept brushing his teeth in an attempt to sponge the bitter taste of blood and tears from his mouth. Kitty hadn't spoken out loud. Kurt hadn't even spoken mentally. The entire house had seemed to stop functioning.

But, no matter where they stumbled in their distraught wanderings, all of them steered clear of door that signified the entrance to his domain.

That's where Rogue was. Curled on the spot of his bed she had long ago claimed her own, wrapped in clothing she had likewise established ownership of that technically belonged to him.

She felt sick.

Stomach turning every time she thought about it, throat burning from tears she held back and bile that had passed. Her teeth chattered constantly with the cold and the shudders of sobs suppressed.

"Can't cry." She mumbled, wrapping herself tighter in his deep red sheets. "Promised."

And she had. It had been the third to last thing he had forced her to say. Had forced her to promise.

The second to last had been that she would get out of there.

The last had been that she loved him.

Rogue bit her bottom lip. Hard.

"Can't cry." She stuttered, blood spilling from the place her teeth sunk in to her lip. "Promised him."

She burrowed her face into his pillows, inhaling deeply his scent, which was the only thing she had left of him. Yes, she had the clothes. Yes, she had the furniture and the room and the pictures, but she needed something more.

She needed the warmth of his body next to her, the comfort of his very presence. She needed the lilting music of his deep voice, soothing her into sleep when nothing else could. She needed the intoxicating aroma that surrounded him.

She had no more warmth.

She had no more music.

All she had left of him was the smell that clung to his space.

And soon, even that would fade.

"Can't cry." She repeated, shaking her head violently. "I promised." Her voice broke. "I promised."

But, she was fighting a losing battle. When the first tear came there was no end to the flood that washed over her, ripping sobs from her lungs, wracking her chest with screams.

Her tears left black stains across the pillowcases; make-up smearing.

She hadn't washed her face since the funeral.


I'm working really hard to find some way to end this happily, but, since technically, this is the end, I don't think it's gonna work. Next Chapter- I'll start this story from the beginning.