Twenty Minutes Away

On Love and Lust at Mutant High #24

Author Notes:
I played fast and loose with movie canon here--it can't actually be PROVEN that it didn't happen like this, but I used the novel for a little reference and some of the missing scenes in the movie to build the picture in my head. My thanks to Sare for her interesting observations on certain scenes in the movie.

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He hadn't seen her in awhile, outside classes (not exactly prime chat time even if she'd been interested, which she hadn't been), so it was a definite shock to walk into the gym and see her there. All in black spandex, kneeling on the floor, staring at the far wall. At first, he thought she was meditating and began to back out--but shit, he couldn't keep this up. They were only a few brief steps from not speaking on a permanent basis. A stranger two doors down.

"You can come in." St. John started at the sound of her voice--she wasn't looking at him, so it had to have been his scent that gave him away, and he edged his way in the door, letting it close behind him, and dropping his gym bag.

Resolutions weren't his specialty. Witness the Bobby Affair--and he tried then. He had. Sort of. He'd thought of trying, anyway, and that had to count for something. The Bobby Thing was worked out, more or less, countdown to tomato sauce fantasies three days and counting, Jubes and Kitty (therefore, by extension, Remy) looked like they could all patch things over--just bring the Rogue on board. This, he realized from the not-so-subtle hints of the girls, was all his responsibility. Status quo had been broken by him and Rogue, and it was their responsibility to fix it.

So knowing Rogue--well, it'd have to be him.

"Hey." How you doing? Off your uppers? Logan's not making life miserable during class anymore, so I gotta think you're better. Where've you been? What's rehab like? Wanna be friends? I'll pass a note, just check yes or no. Fuck, Johnny, this isn't a country song.

She was thinner--the weight drop had taken flesh off her face, and she looked older. Different. Lips a little tight, but there weren't concealed circles beneath her eyes and Jubilee had started relaxing during dinner again. He'd seen her and Rogue across the dining hall when Jubes was coaxing her to eat with Logan watching intently from the adult table--St. John had seen Rogue's glances up and wondered if he'd threatened to force feed. Nor did she look like she'd shatter if a good wind hit, as if every emotion was raw on the surface, ready to be scraped by a single word. The long hair was twisted up, secured in a chignon at the back of her neck, emphasizing the fine bones of her face. But she wore the red lipstick he'd first kissed her with, and that, at least, was familiar.

"Hey yourself." Shaking her head briefly, then slowly turning, moving with easy grace into a cross-legged position on the floor. No expression--they could have been familiar strangers. God. That hurt, more than he could ever have expected.

"How ya doin'?"

"Apparently, trustworthy enough to be left alone for a bit." A gloved hand waved absently around the empty gym. "Notice the lack of Hank, Logan, or 'Ro hovering." If there was irony or bitterness in her voice, he couldn't detect it, and awkwardly took a step toward her. Stopped. "Fine, sugar. Just fine."

There was nothing for a moment--and that was Rogue too. Locked up inside herself--and he wasn't Jubilee, who was overwhelming presence that eventually just wore you down until you responded whether you wanted to or not.

"How're you?" She didn't even sound that interested in hearing his reply.

"Good, thanks." Fuck, this sucked. This sucked beyond words. Took another step, then another, go feet, you just do that, before he finally was a few feet from her and dropped to the floor. An easy three feet between them. "Class is getting easier."

A ghost of a smile quirked the corner of her mouth, but nothing for a minute, and he shifted, trying to decide if getting up and leaving would be just the epilogue to a story that had already ended. That if it was giving up when there was nothing left.

"I didn't touch Bobby." It came out in a rush, as if she was afraid of the same thing. He looked up, startled. The intense gaze was fixed a little to his left.

"I know."

Silence again. St. John held still, watching--something--crawl across her face. Something that could have been emotion, or maybe just a facial twitch, but it was something.

"Thanks for the fire alarm." He started at that. "For the bomb. For not telling what happened that night with us. For--" she frowned, and the dark eyes were on him now--vertical slash between her eyebrows, but he was almost sure she wasn't angry. That she was thinking. "--for a lot of things. For being more than I've been--for being stronger than I was. For being the adult that I couldn't be."

"Rogue--"

A gloved hand came up abruptly, stopping his words before he'd even gotten a thought formed enough to articulate.

"No. Lemme get this out--the whole misunderstanding thing's gotta end now, or I'll never do it. Fuck, if you hadn't come in here today, it never woulda. You like to fix things, Johnny. You're good at it, but maybe I can try it too, maybe I can make it worth it and say I learned something. So just--listen, okay?"

If it meant she was talking, it was all good. He relaxed back into the floor, watched her slide onto her feet like liquid, pacing to the wall briefly. Rubbing her knuckles briefly and he remembered Logan's claws in her spiral.

"You've lied for me. All of you. You did that when I asked you to and you did it with your silence. To Logan, to Summers, to the teachers." She swallowed, hard, and the sudden blinking told him she very well might start crying. Oh God no. That couldn't be good. Not at all. "I don't--" she stopped, biting her lip, then turning. The dark gaze was calm. "You remember when I came here?"

"Yeah." Quiet.

"Do you know why I don't want Bobby?"

Actually, he hadn't really thought about it, but there was sudden, painful memory--sitting in the classroom, making a fire she could see, make her smile. Bobby with his ice roses and his bashful grins and walking her to her room. Staring at her when she crossed the lawn. Telling him how fascinating she was, gloved hands notwithstanding. Her hair, her eyes, her soft voice, those graceful movements, the trail of her scarf in the wind.

Oh yeah, he remembered that.

"No."

"I didn't like any of you. I didn't trust you. I didn't--not for a long time."

"I know. That's normal, you know?" Mutants were weird like that--they learned too young to not trust. "You were--"

"I thought you'd hurt me. Like before."

Whoa doggies. St. John froze, studying her face, but there was nothing readable on it. He got the feeling he had totally missed something.

"Before?" Cautious--he suddenly felt like he was standing on very thin ice.

"You were in the hall that night, when Logan and I had our little--" a quirked eyebrow, "misunderstanding. When he almost killed me, and I almost killed him, and we exchanged a few memories and some new scars. Some of my dreams weren't about labs and camps and blood--some of them were watching myself run blades through my own body." Her head tilted a little. "And I saw you all at the door--watching. Afraid of what I was, of what he was. I went down the next day and none of you would talk to me. Even look at me. I understood, you know? I'm dangerous. Didn't mean I liked it." Turning, she gave the punching bag a long look.

Then her fist went out, and he winced at the sound of flesh against leather. When she pulled back, he watched the deep indent refill slowly.

He remembered that. Remembered her slow walk into breakfast when he'd been trying to decide between pancakes and eggs, her hesitation as she scanned the room. Remembered Jubilee look up and then quickly back down. Hours later, they were playing basketball and she walked by them, clutching her pride around her like a tattered cloak, and it was startling, when he contrasted the girl he was looking at to the girl on that lawn. Because he *hadn't* thought of how she'd been when she'd arrived, and the difference was somehow startling.

"We didn't know you." It was lame, but it really was the best he could do.

"You didn't know her very well at all." She turned again. "If you had, if you'd known, if you'd tried, I never would have been on the Statue that night. If any of you'd cared, I wouldn't have this--" she flicked the long white streak--"or this." And tapped her head impatiently. "If one of you had spoken to me, Logan would never have tried his best to die for me. That takes time, you know? To get over that."

"I don't understand."

"Her name was--is--Mystique." Another punch, and Rogue's whole body went into it. Came back, rubbing her knuckles absently, before shaking her head, and he thought he'd never seen her for what she was before this moment. "She came, she saw, she took the shape of someone I liked, someone who was kind to me, and told me to leave. And you--you and Jubes and Kitty and the others--watched me cross that lawn and didn't stop me." Her whole body looked tense, a wire strung just a little too tight, ready to snap at the slightest warning.

"We didn't know you were leaving." Who the fuck was Mystique? Shapeshifter--blue skin--ruined the Professor's Cerebro, yeah, got it. Took someone's shape. Took someone she liked.

Fuck, no wonder she didn't want Bobby. He breathed out, saw the knowledge reflected in her eyes. A smile curled up the corners of her mouth.

"Who told Logan I was gone?"

St. John blinked.

"None of you knew, right--knew I was leaving--so who told him? Prof didn't know 'til Logan and 'Ro told him. Jeanie and Cyke sure as hell didn't have a clue. Someone told them. Was it one of you?" She turned her head away and he knew he caught the glisten of tears, hastily wiped away with a delicate gloved hand. "It was dumb luck--Logan couldn't find me and got weird about it--went to 'Ro, they went lookin', finally found out from a student who saw me leave." Her head tilted a little now. "Twenty minutes was all it took--grabbed my cloak, hitched a ride and got to the station. I was already there by the time they knew to look for me. So you knew--you all knew--I was leavin'. But none of you stopped me." She paused. "You've never lied to me, Johnny. Don't start now--none of you wanted me around. You were glad to see me go--guilty for feelin' like that, maybe, but your guilt didn't do much for me."

"You're not being fair--"

"Tell me about fair!" She lit up then, suddenly, turning on him. "Give me the long version, I'll give you the short. I'll never touch human skin with my own. A megalomaniac forced his mind into me and stuck me in his machine to suck the life out of my body so he could kill a few million people in the name of mutantkind. I died a thousand feet above the earth and only one person on this entire planet gave a good fuck, sugar. Cared about me--not about that million people who didn't even know they were lookin' death in the face thanks to my skin." She breathed out. "No heartbeat, no breath, I died. Enough brain activity to recognize when skin touched me. I'm not even safe to touch once I'm dead." Her eyes burned into his. "You care now, Johnny, all of you do, and you've never been anything but friends since--but you tell me how to forget that twenty minutes in that yard could have made the difference. I would still be Marie and Logan never would have taken that risk. There wouldn't be any dreams."

He took a breath, letting it out. Tried to piece together what she said--and what she hadn't.

"Is that what this is about?" he whispered. "All of this? You've been pretending? Using us?"

Her eyes went down, staring at the floor.

"No. I didn't want anything to do with any of you at first. Especially Bobby--every time I looked at him, it was Mystique, telling me to go--but it was Bobby too. Telling me to leave, that I had to go, that it'd be better if I left." A soft laugh and she slowly sat down on the floor. "He came every night and how the hell did I tell him he walked through my dreams wearing blue skin? That I held him accountable for a crime he didn't commit? That when he touched me, I heard that bitch tell me that I was as hated here as I was out there?"

St. John took a deep breath, letting it out, remembering her sitting on that bench from the corner of his eye with Bobby--God, it was strange, to know he'd been looking at Mystique wreck someone's life with a few well-chosen words while he shot a basketball and teased Jubilee about her Friday-night excesses.

"If I'd been half the bitch I could have been, I would have told him. Then maybe, just maybe, he'd understand what it's like to wake up not being certain of anyone or anything. Maybe he'd understand, just once, that some nightmares are ones that stay around even when you're awake." Her head tilted a little, eyes so dark he couldn't see the pupils. "I know all your scents--I learned everyone's in the school, so no one could fool me again. I used every memory Logan gave me, because no one was ever going to make me feel like that again. I left home to get away from that, you know? And I got it here."

A long silence. St. John watched as she shifted--she wanted to be moving, wanted to be gone, and he'd never realized how very well he knew her until this moment. Rogue didn't like to explain herself. And he had to say something--and knew, *knew*, that it had to be the right thing, or everything would fall apart.

"I'm not afraid of you, Rogue. What happened that day--" he stopped, frowning. Because how the hell *did* he explain watching her walk away--he *had* known, all the students who watched her walk away knew. He hadn't stopped her. "Bobby didn't care--you know, about what happened. He never did."

"I know." Soft. "I found out after, when he was the one that woke me that first bad night, before Jeanie and co burst in to make sure I didn't hurt him." She looked up suddenly, piercing. "I'm sorry, Johnny, for what I did with you--to you--how I reacted. But--but it was hard, to see Logan with her. And I didn't know--I didn't know *how* hard until well after I saw it. I didn't know it would hurt me that much." A pause. "It's one thing, to say that you have time, to know you're only eighteen and what you want is so far out of your league that it's almost funny. I can deal with that--I have time. I have time and patience and his memories and my own will--I don't fail. Not anymore. It's another to realize that--that, that it might be impossible. That she might do what you don't expect and--that maybe she felt the same way about him that he did about her--and that you *don't* have the time you thought. I reacted to that--and I didn't do it right." She paused, looking at him. "I did want you, Johnny. It wasn't just about bein' a little psycho. And I know you wanted me too--so at the time--" another pause, while she searched for words. "At the time, it didn't seem as--wrong. Even if my reasons were bad--it was real too, Johnny. Believe that, 'kay? I wouldn't lie to you 'bout that."

"Yeah," he breathed. "I do understand that."

"But no matter what else I am, sugar--I wouldn't do that--to you, to Bobby. Even if I thought I could, even if a part of me wanted that kind of revenge--on Logan, for wanting her; on you, for rejectin' me."

"I know."

"You didn't then."

A pause. He thought it over carefully, pulling the pieces together. Looked at her, as vulnerable as she'd ever be, more open than he'd ever seen her.

"I do now."

They looked at each other and Rogue grinned then, leaning back on one arm, all forgotten.

"You are friends, you know. No matter what else--I learned to trust you. That part--the anger over that--it was there at the beginning. But--" she smiled a little then "--but it's gone. It's been gone for a long time since I watched for you to hurt me."

He could even name the day they'd earned that trust. Stared into her eyes and smiled back. He'd never in his life understood how very much that meant to him. They'd helped her through Remy and he'd given her that one kiss, to prove to her that contact would not always have to equal disaster.

"So I guess you and Bobby finally had it out, huh?" St. John started, but there was nothing on Rogue's face except amusement and pleasure. "Glad to see it. It's been long enough, sugar. It's cute, seriously, you two."

He knew that second he did love her, his sister, his friend, his teammate. Just like that, she'd dismissed the strain between them, and he had to smile, because he hadn't expected it, hadn't expected that she could--but she did.

"Just like that, huh?"

"Yeah, sugar. It's--it's over, you know?" Uncertain, just a little, searching his face for confirmation and finding it. "And I learned somethin', which sort of makes it karmatically even--or so Jubes would say. You wanna meet for dinner? Bobby boy is with Hank in town today, right?"

"Yeah, they're doin' their thing," he answered dazedly, half-rising as she did, still surprised by her, wondering if she'd ever stop being able to do that to him. "Ummm...Rogue?"

She was fetching her bag from beside the wall--her head turned, giving him a curious glance.

She'd told him so much today--but never told him why she'd trusted him so early. Why she'd chosen him that night. Why she'd let him kiss her with a drink of whiskey. Why she'd let him near her at all, when unlike Jubes and Kitty and Bobby and Remy, he'd never done anything to seek her out.

"Why'd you tell me?" he blurted out. "About the Statue--about everything?"

She understood instantly the question he didn't ask, didn't even know how to frame.

And that smile--the one that made men want her to use them for bridges over mud puddles, the one that sent men to the top of statues to die for her, the one that was more her than anything else because he knew now it wasn't planned, that she didn't even know she could do that. It was just Rogue, being Rogue.

"You're the one that told Logan I left that day."