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FIC: The Arrow of Time (L/R, Rogue POV, angst) 1/1 PG

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  • Jengrrrl
    Author: Jengrrrl Title: The Arrow of Time Series: The Big Crunch Rating: PG Catergory: Angst Spoilers: movie Summary: Rogue deals with her feelings for Logan
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 31, 2000
      Author: Jengrrrl
      Title: The Arrow of Time
      Series: The Big Crunch
      Rating: PG
      Catergory: Angst
      Spoilers: movie
      Summary: Rogue deals with her feelings for Logan after his return.
      Archive: ask me first please
      Email: Rogue22@... :)
      Feedback: please feed the monkey (THat would be me)

      "The Arrow of Time"

      He came home. To tell the truth, I was more than a little surprised. I
      wasn't expecting it. He'd been gone for so long, I'd almost forgotten his
      promise. I was sure he'd forgotten it. After all, three years without word
      from another person is enough to make you forget. Or want to forget.

      Oh, I still fantasized about him. What girl wouldn't? He was my savior,
      wasn't he? My honest to goodness hero. He was the older man with the rough
      good looks any teen-aged girl gets a crush on. And I had to keep reminding
      myself of that. It was a crush. Nothing more.

      Funny thing is, I haven't really had another one. A crush, I mean. You'd
      think by now, someone would have come along to displace him, wouldn't you?
      Some cute boy, or another older man, a teacher I could look up to, dream
      about? But it never happened. I didn't think about him as much, but I
      didn't pin my hopes on anyone else either. Honestly, I haven't wanted to. I

      haven't wanted to think about any of that at all. Whenever I do, I get a
      deep knot way down in my belly. It makes me sick, if you really want to
      know. I don't want to think about the things I can't have.

      Sometimes, I'll be sitting outside, watching the other kids play
      basketball, or whatever, and Jean and Scott will pass by. They're always
      holding hands, or hugging each other. And I'll stare at her for as long as
      they're in my sight. Those moments, I really hate her. And it's not just
      because she can touch someone, and it's not just because I know Logan loves

      her. It's because she has so much. So much of everything. I envy her with
      an intensity I'm embarrassed to admit. Does she know what she has? Is her
      mind capable of appreciating it? It's those moments that I end up hating
      myself the most. Because I think about how pathetic it is: pining over
      things I can't have, envying a woman whose been nothing but kind to me.

      And then he came home. I heard about it before I saw him. He'd apparently
      been back a couple of days before Ororo told me. She had this look on her
      face when she did, the look I always seem to get from people. That kind of
      pitying, sad look that always seems to come out when people are reminded
      that I can never be normal, even for a mutant. And, Isn't it cute and oh so

      terrible that she can have a crush? I know she didn't mean anything by it,
      but I'm so sick of people treating me like I'm disabled. If I'm confined to

      live alone within my skin, I don't want to be reminded of it day in and day


      I was reading a book when he came in. Wuthering Heights. I hated almost
      all the characters. Heathcliff and Cathy were despicable, I thought.
      Really, pretty rotten people. It wasn't until the end of the damned thing
      that I understood, a little. Anyway, that's what I was reading when he came

      in. I looked up, half expecting Bobby or Scott, anyone else, but it was

      He just kind of plopped down on the couch next to me and said, "Hey, Kid"
      like I'd seen him at breakfast or something. I just sort of looked at him,
      because I didn't know what to say after so much time. He looked the same. I

      think the jacket was different but he looked exactly the same.
      I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. It was strange, having him there in
      front of me. He was like a vision. A ghost from the strangest part of my
      life. He wasn't looking at me, though. I think he was trying to look at
      anything but me. Maybe he was embarrassed that he didn't know what to say.
      That's how I was feeling.

      Finally, he came up with "How are ya?"

      Genius, I thought. I'd never pegged Logan as the kind to exchange
      pleasantries. He must've been really hard up for things to say. "Fine," I
      replied, and left it at that.

      He frowned a little but nodded and replied "Good" like what I'd said was
      really profound.

      "Where've you been?" I asked, trying hard to keep any hint of bitterness
      from my voice. There was no point in letting him know just how hurt I was
      that he didn't seek me out earlier. I wondered just who he'd run into
      first. Was it Professor X? Or maybe Jean. That thought unsettled me so I
      tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

      "Here and there. I didn't find anything useful up there. Not really." I
      could see he wasn't telling me the whole truth and I felt another twinge of

      anger because I knew he thought I was a child and there was no reason to
      confide in a child. "Mostly, I just fell into my old life. What I was
      doing before I came down here."

      His old life. It didn't surprise me that much, that he'd find a reason to
      stay away. Even if it was just so he could go back to barroom brawling and
      living in a beat up trailer.

      "Why're you back?" It slipped out before I could contain it. It was what
      I'd wanted to ask all along. Why had he come back? Had he gotten tired of
      his old life? Had he missed any of us? Had he missed me?

      He gave me a funny look, like wasn't it obvious? "I told you I'd be back."

      The words caught me off guard. I wasn't sure if I should be pleased or
      disheartened. Confused is what I mostly was. Had he come back for the tags?

      The damned tags I'd finally buried under layers of scarves and gloves in
      one of my drawers when I decided long ago he wasn't coming back to me? "I
      thought you'd forgotten," I muttered, half afraid I was sounding like a
      five year old.

      He raised an eyebrow, in that way of his, and shook his head. "Nope. Just
      put it off for awhile."

      That got to me. He'd put if off? Like you put off doing a chore or
      something else you really don't want to do? If that's what his promised
      had meant to him, I really didn't think I wanted him back.

      I glanced his way, noticing that this time, he was really looking at me.
      Staring. Could he tell how pissed off I was? Could he smell it? "You've

      I hadn't really. I hadn't changed that much. I wore a little make-up when
      it suited me, and maybe that made me look a little older. But maybe he
      wasn't talking about physically. "Time passes," I said, as if that
      explained everything.

      "Yeah," he replied, but he was still looking at me in that funny way. It
      was making me uncomfortable.

      I got up then, because the silence and the staring were putting me on edge.

      "I'll go get them. They're upstairs."


      His eyes boring into mine almost made me forget just what the Hell I was
      talking about. "Um, the dog tags."

      He stood up too. "Oh. Them. I don't need them right now."

      It made me feel stupid. He didn't need them, right now. But he did want
      them back. I'd wanted him to say that he wasn't back for them, that he was
      back for me. But he didn't say anything.

      I picked up my book from my chair. I was suddenly desperate to get out of
      the room. To get away from him. "Well, I'll be seeing you Logan." It
      sounded lame, but I couldn't think up a good excuse.

      He only nodded. As I made my way out the door, trying to keep my legs from
      breaking into a run, he called out, "Rogue."

      I stopped - it was beyond me - and turned to look at him. He was smiling, a

      typical Logan smirk. "You look good, Kid." Kid. It couldn't have hurt more

      if he'd stabbed me through the chest again with one of his claws.

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