Vantage Point - Rogue

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I don't miss the good old days
I've learned a lot since then; I've changed my ways
I'm not bothered by those things that
Used to get me down
Only when you come around

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometimes, I think that dying would be easier.

It doesn't happen very often. Just certain times when I'm Marie again instead of Rogue.

She's not as easily put away as I thought she'd be.

It's odd to talk about yourself in third person, but it's the way I've come to see myself. I'm split in half. The Rogue part is happy most of the time. She's satisfied with her life. She can be Logan's friend and nothing more, and be happy to have that much of him.

It's Marie who is never satisfied. She still wants what she lost. She peeks her head out every once in a while, throwing off her blanket of numbness to look out at the world. And Marie's world revolves around only one person. No matter how many times Rogue tells her to shut up and go away, she stubbornly persists. Marie is the one who brings out the pain of memory...

The pain of hope.

Not that hope itself is painful. Generally, it's considered to be a good thing. But having hope in a hopeless situation is the surest road to misery I can think of. So Rogue curses Marie, screams at her to just give up and be satisfied with her life.

Marie doesn't listen very well. She's too damned stubborn for my own good. And she seems to pick the worst possible times to make her presence felt.

Like the day Logan decided he wanted to be my personal trainer.

I had been training with Scott ever since the Professor got me to agree to it, while Logan was still in the coma. Even when Logan's powers went away, they offered to have me continue, and I accepted. I found that I liked the focus the training gave me and the release it offered. Plus, I wanted to have a shot at being on the team someday. It seemed like the perfect choice to me. The X-Men had saved my life. The symmetry of pledging that life to help save others appealed to me. Maybe that came from the Eastern philosophies Scott was teaching me along with the battle techniques.

I'm finally comfortable calling him Scott instead of Mr. Summers. I know that the request was his way of making me feel more a part of the team, even though it's not an official position and might never be. Scott kept after me about it, but I wasn't at ease with the informal address until we became friends. I still call him Mr. Summers in class out of respect, but that's not how I see him anymore. He's Scott to me, though I never tell Jubes, Kitty or anyone else that. They wouldn't understand it. Scott is always The Fearless Leader with them. Although it took a near nervous breakdown on my part to make me see him any differently, I do now.

But all of that came later. That night, I still thought of him as "Mr. Summers". Logan came storming into the gym and interrupted my training session. He broke my concentration and royally ticked off Scott. I thought they were going to start brawling right in front of me until Jean came in and called Scott away for a meeting.

Then I was alone with Logan, and he started teaching me far differently than Scott. Where the fighting techniques Scott taught me were controlled and focused, Logan was showing me raw aggression. He even taught me my first throw that night. Logan seemed impressed with my attempt, even though I fouled it up and found myself down on the floor with him.

Rogue fought to keep a lid on her, but Marie came flying out of her shell at the incidental contact she craved. I can usually keep her in control during my normal daily conversations with Logan, but the physical contact strengthened Marie's resolve. Rogue tried to keep it casual as I laid half sprawled across Logan's chest, my legs on the padded mat alongside his.

Marie would have none of that. She took control and made my hands move across that beautifully sculpted chest while I had the chance.

Logan had to leave then for an appointment or something. I had been so wrapped up in myself that I didn't really hear what he said.

Rogue understood while Marie howled with disappointment. But Marie had her revenge the next night when Logan suggested that I follow up my daily sessions with Scott by working out with him. Rogue knew that was a terrible idea, but Marie insisted on saying yes.

And so began my nightly torture.

Being able to touch Logan was everything and nothing all at once. I couldn't touch him the way I wanted to, and feeling his hands on me was an exquisite agony. The hands that I longed to have caressing me like a lover instead directed me with the detached motions of an instructor. It was almost as bad as not having him touch me at all. Almost, but not quite. I have stronger self-destructive tendencies than I'd realized.

It was difficult enough to have casual conversations with Logan about my life and not break down. He'd taken to seeking me out a few times a day just to talk. I had the feeling that he was still worried about me after my reaction to him when he woke up from the coma. I always put on my best "Rogue is perfectly adjusted" routine for him. It's not his fault that he doesn't remember what happened.

The Professor had warned me against telling Logan anything. He said that Logan might not have any memories of the time he was in my head. He couched it in metaphysical terms like "suspended consciousness" and "astral manifestations", but the gist of it was that Logan didn't forget -- he just had nothing to remember.

If I have to tell you that I had a Marie day after that conversation, you haven't been listening very closely. The Professor's revelation was both a comfort and a torment in some aspects. It was comforting to understand why Logan couldn't remember. It felt a lot better than thinking he forgot because it didn't matter as much to him as it did to me. Knowing that gave me a perspective that didn't constantly rail against the cruelty of fate for taking him away from me. I thought I might even be able to let it go and forget my feelings for Logan. And believe me, I tried.

But I can't forget, and that's the torment part. I know deep inside me that Logan loved me then. Although "Right back at'cha" is not the most romantic response to a declaration of love, I knew what he meant. When we were connected, I could feel his love reaching into my soul. But if the Professor is right and Logan has no memory of what we shared those months he was unconscious, then even the smallest sliver of hope I cling to is pointless. Even realizing that, I can't forget, and if I'm totally honest with myself, I don't want to. No matter how much it aches, I want the memories enough to live with the pain they bring.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

But I don't carry much regret
We all hold something that we'd just as soon forget
And I remember like it was today
The love we found
Every time you come around

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It seems so unfair to have to watch Logan flirting with another woman, especially Jean, who is obviously in love with Scott. Jean and Scott are so into each other that it might make me nauseous if I didn't like them so much. At first, I thought that it would be easier to deal with if Logan flirted with Ororo instead. But then again, she's available, so that would make it worse. At least with Jean, it won't go any further. Outrageous, bold flirting may hurt, but seeing Logan with a woman that he can have, one he can touch, would cause more pain than I could bear.

But just because I don't see them, that doesn't mean he isn't touching other women.

Logan leaves the School almost every night on Scott's bike. I know where he's going, though once I found out, I wished that I didn't. I was stupid enough to indulge my curiosity one night. I waited around for him to come home and arranged to "accidentally" run into him in the hall outside his room. His hair and clothes were rumpled. He reeked of cigar smoke and beer and cheap perfume...

And a musky odor that screamed of sweat and sex. Without Logan's sensory memories in my head, I'm not sure if I would have recognized the scent, though the other evidence was damning enough.

And then I saw a long red hair clinging to his white t-shirt.

The fact that he'd gone to find a substitute for Jean just about killed me. I forced myself to say a quick "Hi" and continued down the hall without another word. Logan called after me, and the word "Kid" never stung more. I kept walking until I got to the garden and could let Marie loose without fear of being found.

The Marie days are so hard on me. Those are the days when I think that dying would be easier than living like this. Living with watching Logan flirt with Jean. Living with hearing him roar off on the bike into town at night, knowing that some other woman will be holding him and touching him in ways I can only dream of doing. On her worst days, Marie stares a little too long at bottles of pills in the infirmary, stands in the shower holding on to the razor just a little too tightly.

But even on the darkest, angriest, saddest days, Marie will never hurt herself. She's bound by a vow she made to the one person she can never disappoint:

*/ All right, Logan. I promise you I'll live, no matter what. /*

There are days that both Marie and Rogue wonder how binding a promise actually is when it was made to someone who doesn't remember you making it. When that person doesn't know why he made you make the promise in the first place. When he really isn't even the same person he was at the time that the promise was made.

When maybe, the person who extracted that promise doesn't exist at all.

I do think that sometimes. That I made the whole thing up in my head out of desperation and loneliness. But the pain I feel is too deep to have come from an imaginary broken heart. I have the real thing. And then there's the raw, bleeding place in my mind where my connection to Logan used to be. Unless someone slipped me some really nifty hallucinogens when I wasn't looking, there's no way on earth I made that up. I'm not that creatively masochistic.

Sorry, I got sidetracked again. As I was saying, I went out to the garden that night, and Marie took control. I shook with a violent combination of hurt, jealousy, and outright rage. Logan was lusting after Jean and sleeping with whichever slut happened to look enough like her to feed his fantasy life. I wanted to scream at the unfairness, to demand that someone tell me why I had to live through the beautiful torture of vivid, dreamlike memories that could never be real again.

As it turned out, I didn't scream, but I did end up crying until I thought my eyes would bleed. Something I swore would never happen again does happen more often than is good for the tissue supply in the School. Mama always said that you should never make a promise you won't be able to keep.

Like I said before, Marie doesn't listen very well, and she's persistent as hell. Rogue handles most of Marie's issues before the crying jags hit, but not all of them.

It happened again the day I was finally asked out on a date.

We were all walking out of calculus, our last class of the day. Jubes and Kitty were talking about wrangling a car to go to the mall. St. John and Bobby were arguing about the affect of salary-caps in major league baseball. I ended up talking with Peter. I saw his sketchpad in the stack of books he was carrying.

"What's your latest masterpiece, Petey?"

He gave me a slightly puzzled look. "Masterpiece? Forgive me, Rogue. My English is still not so perfect. What do you ask?"

I could see the teasing light in his eyes. I laughed and nudged him with my shoulder. "You are such a faker! You know what I meant. Are you fishin' for compliments, big guy?"

He shook his head and placed a hand on his chest, doing a very good imitation of being wounded. "Never think so, Laskovaya. A true artist knows his limits, and I am merely proficient. I should not be so bold to say master."

We all walked into the rec room, and I led Peter to a table away from the sofa where the others had crashed. He's humble about his talent and doesn't like discussing it in large groups. I wanted to see what he was working on and knew that if I got him alone (relatively speaking) that he'd show it to me. He always did.

I tapped the sketchpad with a gloved finger. "C'mon, Peter. Can't I have a little peek? Please?"

He gave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh and pulled out the sketchpad. "You know I can deny nothing when you ask so sweet."

He flipped a few pages into the spiral pad and handed it to me. I looked down at the image on the page and marveled at how beautiful it was. Peter had drawn Ororo tending the garden. The lines of the pencil sketch were exquisitely rendered. He'd only begun shading in the colors of the foliage, but Ororo's figure appeared to be completed. I was amazed by how he'd captured her serene beauty in such exact detail. I could almost feel the slight breeze rustling through her ivory hair.

I finally pulled my eyes from the drawing and looked at him. "Peter... this is beautiful! It's even better than the one you did of the Professor. You should show it to her-"

"No!" he exclaimed as color ran up his face. I knew Peter was shy about sharing his drawings, so the refusal didn't surprise me, though the blush was a bit unusual. "I... I did not request her permission to draw this. I should not wish to let her see that I... She is a privacy person, and I do not want her upset."

Speaking of upset, Peter was really nervous about letting Ororo see this. Despite his jokes about his English skills, he makes few mistakes as glaring as using the word privacy when he meant private. "Relax, Petey. You know I won't say anything if you don't want me to. But I still think she'd be flattered, not upset. It's a beautiful picture."

He looked inordinately relieved when he said thank you. I wondered about it for a second before flipping to another page in the pad. The next picture I came to was a charcoal sketch of Scott's motorcycle. Then I found a drawing of Kitty and Jubilee having a water fight in the pool. I'd seen that one before, so I flipped the pages in the other direction. Then I came upon another picture that made my breath catch.

It was a drawing of me, standing on the terrace under a full moon. Peter had drawn me in profile with my cloak on, my gloved hands extended before me, my head tilted down. I was depicted staring at the gloves, and I could see my own feelings reflected in the eyes on the page. A single tear was suspended against the paper cheek, an instant in time before it would fall to hit the silk covered hands.

I don't know how long I stared at that drawing before I looked over at Peter. I couldn't say a word. The scene was nothing that had ever occurred in real life, but it may as well have. I was amazed that he knew me so well.

Peter didn't look embarrassed this time. He removed the sketchpad from my suddenly numb grip and picked up my gloved hand. "I see your sorrow, Laskovaya. The world is too much with you. I should wish to lighten your eyes, if you would permit me."

I felt myself responding to the gentle words and the comfort of the hand holding mine. "Peter... I don't think I know how to be happy anymore."

His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of my hand as he smiled. "You are simply out of practice. Let me help you find your smile again. It is too beautiful to be so hidden." Then he asked me to go on a date with him the following Saturday.

And with Rogue firmly in control of Marie, I said yes.

Of course, Marie didn't keep her peace for long. She started in on how selfish it was to agree to date Peter when I was in love with Logan. She got me into such a state that I ended up talking to Scott about it.

Don't laugh. He was much more understanding than I expected. Really, he was more supportive than he had any reason to be, given Logan's behavior with Jean.

That first time I talked to Scott, it was less about who he was than the fact that he happened to be there when the dam broke. I had no control over Marie by that point, and I couldn't hold back a second longer. But he actually empathized with my situation in a way that I didn't expect. Scott clearly has issues with Logan, but he cared enough about my feelings to put that aside.

I know. It surprised me too.

That was the night I stopped looking at him like an authority figure and started seeing him as a friend. Mr. Summers was suddenly Scott. In spite of (or maybe it's because of?) his own struggle with his reaction to Logan, I found it easy to talk with Scott. Plus, he knew about the connection I'd shared with Logan, which is something I haven't explained to anyone who doesn't already know about it. I like my illusion of sanity too much to tell Jubes or anyone else.

Limiting myself to the people who already knew provided a short list of choices for confessor: The Professor was definitely out of the running. I still had problems with him and the whole telepathy thing. Way too uncomfortable for me, though I'm sure he would have been kind. Jean came with a whole other set of issues. A part of me knew that she was probably the best choice for various reasons, but I just couldn't go there. Talking to Jean about Logan would have been like pouring lemon juice into an open wound -- not at all cleansing and very painful.

So that left Scott. And although my choice had been unintentional, it turned out to be the right one. I guess even I get a lucky break occasionally.

The same night I had my breakdown on Scott's shoulder, I told Logan about my upcoming date with Peter. I knew that word would get around the School eventually, and I wanted to make sure that he heard about it from me first. Though I want much more, Logan is my friend. It didn't seem right to keep something like that a secret from him.

You can feel free to question my motives. Marie certainly did.

He was showing me countering moves when I spoke up. "Peter asked me out on a date for this weekend."

That stooped the lesson literally in mid-swing. Logan just stared at me silently, well, silent other than the quiet rumbling growl I heard. Rogue told a gleeful Marie not to read too much into it. Logan had been protective toward me before the whole "mind-meld" episode.

"Is that the blond freezer-pop?" he asked, hands fisted on his hips.

"No. That's Bobby. Peter is the tall, dark-haired guy with the Russian accent."

I still didn't think Logan knew who I was talking about. He confirmed that with a grunted, "Too damned many to keep track of 'round here."

I thought that was going to be the end of it. Logan briefly returned to a battle stance. Before I could do the same, he straightened again and asked, "What does he do?"

He sounded disgruntled, like he was asking the question against his own will. "Do? Well, he likes to draw-"

"Not that, Kid," he interrupted. "I mean, as Chuck says, what's his 'gift'?"

"Oh, that. Peter can transform his body into organic metal. It makes him nearly invulnerable."

"Pretty impressive. I'm sure he's a prime candidate for one of those black leather torture devices after graduation if he wants one."

I nodded. "I've never seen it in person, but I caught a look at some of his training footage one day. Peter has trouble reverting back to his regular form once he goes metallic. The Professor has been working with him on it, just like he does with the rest of us who have control issues."

Logan narrowed his eyes at me. It wasn't a hostile look, more of a speculative one. "You like him, don't you?"

I ignored Marie's demand that I say "Not in that way" rather than what I did choose as a reply. "Of course I like him, Logan. I wouldn't agree to go out with someone I didn't like."

He seemed to accept that. "You know I'll have to break his leg if he messes with you, right?"

I could see that Logan was worried about me. It felt good, even if it was a brotherly gesture rather than something stemming from jealousy. What he didn't know was that Peter didn't have the power to hurt me in the way that Logan was implying. On the other hand, I thought I might end up unintentionally hurting Peter. "I doubt it will come to that. Peter would never hurt me."

Logan walked closer and put his hands on my shoulders. I fought to keep my breathing even as bolts of electric fire raced through my system. "You better be right, Kid. Chuck will toss me out on my ear if I fillet one of his students." His small grin faded, and his voice dropped to a soft rumble. "He's a lucky guy. I hope he knows that."

Marie came springing out before I could stop her. "Logan-"

"I hate to cut this short, but I gotta go. Have fun on your date, Kid."

Logan's abrupt exit saved me from an embarrassing Marie display. Rogue was grateful for it, and Marie hated it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well I'm the first to say I should
Forget you, and I wish I could
Sometimes, wishes don't come true

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My first date with Peter led to a second, then more as time passed. I felt comfortable with him. It was more like two friends spending time alone together than anything romantic.

And then a few nights ago, it changed.

Peter took me to Brighton Beach. As we strolled along the boardwalk, he told me that some people referred to it as "Little Russia". He pointed out a few women in old-fashioned Russian garb and relayed that a large number of Russian expatriates inhabited the neighborhood. He took me to a restaurant owned by one such immigrant. It was a small place with closely crowded tables, but the food was excellent and much different than the traditional fare served at the Mansion.

When we returned home, Peter asked me to walk in the garden with him. I agreed, and we strolled along a path edged by rose bushes.

Peter stopped underneath an arch covered in climbing ivy. He turned to me with a very serious expression on his face. "Laskovaya, I wish your permission to try something."

This wasn't the laughing, easy-going Peter I was used to. Normally if he asked me something, I would have said yes without question. But the way he was looking at me demanded caution. "What?"

"A test. I wish to see if I can touch you... like this."

He transformed in front of my eyes. The moonlight glinted off flesh that had suddenly turned silver. Either his control had gotten much better under the Professor's tutelage, or he was taking a gamble for me. The overwhelming guilt made me want to sink through the ground, enough so that I thought having Kitty's powers must be a fantastic blessing. "Peter... Why... Why did you do that?"

"I talked to Dr. McCoy. I beg forgiveness for this, but I asked him questions about your skin reaction. In this form, I have no life for you to steal, Laskovaya. I need no breath or food. As to why... I think you need this."

Peter's hand came up and rested against my bare cheek. I grabbed his wrist, ready to pull him away the instant I realized what he was doing. I didn't know before that second how much stronger he is in his shifted form. I couldn't budge him.

And then I noticed something that left me shocked and awed. I wasn't feeling the pull. There was no consciousness invading my own. All I felt was the cool metal against my face, slightly warming with the contact of my flesh.

Someone was touching me. No barriers, no caution, just contact. And though it was different from a skin on skin embrace, it was more than I'd had for a very long time. This was a living person touching me without hurting either of us.

Peter wiped tears I hadn't realized I'd been shedding from my cheek with his thumb. He looked concerned. "Must you cry, Laskovaya? I did not do this to make you sad."

I shook my head numbly. "No... That's not it... I'm not sad, I'm... I don't know. I didn't think I would ever... Thank you, Peter."

White teeth shone from between silver lips. "Happy tears, then?"

I gave a laugh that ended on a hiccup. I couldn't seem to stop crying. "Yes. Happy tears."

He smiled gently and brought his other hand to join the first in cradling my face. "Then I am happy too."

Peter leaned forward, and I felt the press of cool, soft, metal lips against my forehead. It felt so good to be touched without fear that I was almost able to ignore the wave of guilt building inside me. As much as I craved the affection and the safe contact being with Peter offered, I couldn't let this keep going without telling him the truth.

I pulled away from him and took a few steps back. "Peter, I... I can't do this. I can't let this go any further without telling you-"

"That you love another?"

And if my jaw had fallen far enough to hit the ground, it wouldn't have surprised me. "You know?"

I looked at him expecting anger or judgement. I saw neither. "Rogue, I know your silence speaks a name other than mine. You should know that mine whispers to another also."

He stared at his own fingers as they idly traced the closed bloom of a rose, and I suddenly realized where in the garden we'd stopped. The sketchbook... "You're in love with Ms. Munroe?"

He turned back to me, a bittersweet twist of his lips too small to be a smile. "As Mr. Summers has been your mentor, Ororo has been mine. Professor Xavier believed her techniques in controlling the heavens would assist me. Her wisdom, her calm, her sweetness all stole my heart without permission. I know the foolishness. She sees me only as a charge in her care. How is a mere mortal man to touch the heart of a goddess? But the heart cannot be forced to see reason, as I believe you know."

I was stunned by his confession and thoroughly confused as well. "Then why...?"

"Why ask you to date me? Simple answer. We are kindred spirits. You know what it is to want what you cannot have, the same as I. I have hope that we may find a way to move on together."

God, it was so tempting. Maybe we could...? Nope. No point in indulging that fantasy until I managed to get Logan out of at least some part of my heart. Right then, I had none of it left to give anyone else. "Peter... I don't know if-"

A metallic finger came up to rest against my lips. "Shh, Laskovaya. No decision must be made tonight. Just think about it."

He pulled back and closed his eyes. Slowly but surely, the metallic surface receded from his skin. He was breathing heavily when he opened his eyes.

"Peter, I thought you had a hard time coming back?"

He smiled wryly and offered his arm to me. "The weather goddess is a good teacher."

I was thinking about Peter's suggestion constantly. I even decided to have lunch alone in the courtyard the next day so I could mull it over in peace. I nearly had myself convinced that it could work for Peter and me.

Logan's arrival was impeccably timed. For the better or the worse depends on your viewpoint. He tried to talk to me, but it was one time I couldn't manage a bland, civil conversation with him. I tried to walk away...

And then he called me Marie.

It was the first time he'd used my real name rather than "Kid" since he'd woken up. The hope engendered by that had Marie taking full control for a moment that seemed days long.

Turns out that it meant nothing. Well, it meant nothing to Logan. He didn't realize how it cut my soul to pieces when he innocently used that name. Rogue pushed the beleaguered Marie aside and allowed me to walk away with dignity. Rogue was an expert at pretending. Even so, she held out only long enough to get me up to my room before Marie emerged again in a fit of tears.

I guess that despite the great act I put on, nothing has really changed. Underneath the laughing friendship, the easy smiles, and the contented exterior, the fire still burns. I still hope, I still yearn, I still hurt more than I ever thought I could...

Underneath Rogue, I'm still Marie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It doesn't seem like much to ask
To live a life that isn't caught up in the past
But there's really no place else on earth
For me right now
I wish you'd come around

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End Note: The song lyrics are from "Come Around" by Kim Ritchey.

Continue to Part 2 of "Vantage Points" | Retun to Soul Cages Index | Return to Fanfic Index | Return to Main Page