Chapter Text
Rogue stood at the window, arms crossed, watching as the leaves began to fall. They were brilliantly colored, drifting to the yellowed grass below. She didn't look at the gloves sitting on the dresser beside her, didn't glance at the long, hooded coat waiting for her in the closet. For now, she let herself enjoy the beginning of the chilly autumn air in a tank top and shorts. She knew that she only had a little time now, before she would be kept overly warm underneath all the layers that were necessary to keep from hurting people.
The door creaked open behind her. She knew it was Logan and knew he was letting her know he was there. The door clicked shut again and she heard him settle against it, waiting. She didn't answer. Her eyes roamed the grounds in front of her. Leaves were piling up under the trees, putting the final nail in the coffin of the summer heat. It was appropriate, she mused, that this was the season of death. The death of the professor, the death of Scott Summers, the death of Jean Gray. The death of the Cure. Her nails dug into her biceps as she remembered. Bobby refused to come near her. His power was still carried in her veins after this morning, making her shiver. The floorboards creaked as Logan moved to stand beside her, still saying nothing. He gave no comforting touch, no welcome hand on her shoulder to reassure her. He kept his distance, as the others did since Bobby had fallen senseless to the floor.
"I'm leaving," she finally said. He leaned against the window pane.
"Where to?"
"South. Back home. I know…. I know I can't go back there. Back to where I grew up. But…I miss it."
Logan grunted in reply. His hands were restless, and she knew he was thinking he wanted a cigar. She turned to her dresser, opened the drawer and dug out the box of cigarettes and a lighter. Tapping one out on her hand, she offered him the box.
He looked at her, surprise showing on his face for the first time. She shrugged, lighting the cigarette and inhaling the sweet nicotine. He took the cigarette and lighter and joined her. "There's a reason I keep the window open," she said quietly.
"How long?" he asked between inhales. He would rather have a cigar, but this would do.
"After the first time I absorbed you," she answered, drawing in another breath of cigarette, then exhaling it out the open window.
He grunted again. "I mean how long will you be gone?"
She turned to him, her turn to show surprise. "Why? Thinking of sticking around for once?" There was no bitterness in her tone. She of all people knew better than to judge him. His restlessness seemed to be her own drive for leaving rather than trying to work her way through this with the rest of the school.
Logan shrugged. "Storm needs the help. The school is struggling to stay a safe place. When she doesn't need me…. well, it's easy enough to leave again."
Rogue hummed under her breath, turning back to the window. She tapped the cigarette on the open sill, dropping the ash. "Don't know. Don't know if I'll ever come back. There's no one that can really help me anymore. I thought I was getting somewhere before the cure…thought I could almost control it."
"Why not anymore?"
"Professor's dead. Jean's dead. Hell, even Scott's dead, though he wasn't of much help to me." Logan could have assumed that his own disdain of Scott had rubbed off on her, but Rogue had her own reasons for not being able to stand the man. "I've heard there are some other people out there that could help. No names, just rumors from new students at the school. I don't want to hurt no one, but I'm tired. So tired of being scared of. Leastways, with people who don't know who I am, they aren't gonna keep a six-foot distance from me."
Logan didn't reply this time, knowing she spoke the truth. Even Ororo, who had so passionately told Rogue there was nothing wrong with her, still kept her distance from the young woman. Finishing the cigarette, he put it out on his hand. He glanced at her and she offered the plastic cup she kept on her desk. Dropping the stub into it, he crossed his arms again. "Well, if you get as far south as New Orleans and need help, look for a Remy LeBeau."
Rogue looked at him in surprise. "Who's that?"
"He helped me out once. He's a mutant too. Just tell him my name, remind him he owes me. He'll help you out if you need it."
She kept her eyes on him for another moment, then simply hmm'd, turning to put out her own cigarette. "I'll keep that in mind. Never did get to New Orleans. Might be a fun place to visit."
He grunted. "Make sure you tell me when you leave," he said, turning back to the door. She nodded and he walked away.