Isolation Logan was sitting in the empty loft, staring out of a window with a distant look in his eyes. It had been nearly two weeks since they had lost the baby and he hadn’t said much of anything to anyone since then. And Ororo hadn’t spoken much either. Ororo had even kept herself secluded from her own husband. After getting the OK from Hank, she had left eight days ago, claiming to need time to herself. She hadn’t talked to him since then.  Suddenly, Logan’s ear picked up a woman’s heels clacking on the loft stairs. Without checking the scent, he knew who it was. After all, Rogue always had a particular way of walking that was extremely different from any of the other women in the house. "Hi, Rogue." Logan said softly, startling the young woman. "Hullo, sugah." She said in her soft, beautiful Southern voice. That was one thing Logan always noticed about Rogue -- her voice’s ever-soothing quality, even when she was yelling at Gambit it was there. "How’re you holdin’ up?" "Better than I was last week." He replied honestly, still looking out of the window. The twenty-year-old sauntered over and sat next to him. He still didn’t look at her. His eyes were still fixed on the early-spring sky. “It hurts, Rogue.” Logan stated, surprising the Southerner. “Ah know, sugah. But things will be ok, they always are.” “I just wish ‘Ro hadn’t left.” He sighed, still looking out the window. “Me too, Logan.” Rogue looked at him, unsure of what else to say. He didn’t open up with her often and this was an extremely touchy matter. She didn’t want to hurt him more by saying the wrong thing, so she waited for him to talk first. Logan looked at the sky and felt like crying. He missed his wife and wanted nothing more than to comfort her right now. But she had left him behind, saying she needed time to think. He had done that enough in his life to know not to argue, but he really wish he had. Now I know how she feels when I leave, he sighed. Rogue carefully placed her hand on his shoulder, wondering what he was thinking. “Sugah?” Rogue asked softly. He looked up at her, startled. “Sorry, darlin’. Just thinkin’.” He replied, looking back at the sky. “I wish she would call.” “Ah’m sure she’ll call if she’s in trouble. Don’t worry – Storm’s a big girl.” “Yeah and my wife.” He mumbled, knowing Rogue was right. "How long you plannin’ on stayin’ up heah, Logan?"  "Till I’m hungry." He answered. "Ah don’t recall the last time you even touched food." She said quietly. "When d’ya plan on gettin’ hungry?" "When Ororo’s home." He answered, slightly angry but mostly hurt. "Look, Logan, you’ve helped me a lot in the past and now it’s mah turn t’help you." Rogue began. "We both know that Ororo probably won’t be back home foah another couple’a days and she wouldn’t be very happy t’find you in a depressive coma ‘cause you refused t’eat!" A short sigh from Wolverine told Rogue that she had won. Wolverine just didn’t have the strength or the desire to argue with the young woman. A small smile appeared on her face and she squeezed his shoulder. "C'mon. Let’s go inta town and get some lunch." The young woman suggested. “We can maybe talk about all this, hm?” "Sounds good." Logan agreed, touching her hand with his own. "And thank you." "Hell, Ah ain’t done nothin’, Logan." She said, brushing aside his thanks. "Y’all don’t need t’thank me foah anythin’." "You’re here. That’s enough."  Then, without another word between them, he kissed her gloved-hand and stood up. A smile crept onto his face and he gently brushed some strands of white hair from Rogue’s eyes, careful not to touch her skin. "Let’s go, darlin’." Logan grinned, standing aside for Rogue to walk first. "Y’all know how to treat a lady, don’t’cha, Logan?" She blushed. "No, it’s just that if you fall down the stairs in those heels, you won’t fall on me." He smirked. "Gee, what a gent. Jus' foah that, I oughta toss you on yoah ass." She grumbled, slapping his arm lightly. "Oughta, but won’t." Wolverine said, walking down the loft staircase. The two old friends walked towards the main hall exchanging small threats when Logan suddenly stopped in his tracks. His attention peeked, as did Rogue’s – she was used to responding to Logan’s actions. Then he continued to walk. She followed step and looked at him. "What was that for?" "Just caught an odd scent from Jubilee’s room, that’s all." He answered, grabbing his leather jacket. "Lemme guess -- Bobby?" The slightly shocked expression on Logan’s face was enough for Rogue to know she was right. She giggled a little and then started to explain before real threats came out of Logan’s mouth. "Y'see, we all think somethin’s going on between them two, but no one really knows foah sure, yet. Y’all haven’t been downstairs that much since...since the accident...so y’all haven’t seen those two." She stated. “C’mon, I’ll fill you in on the details over sandwiches and coffee at Harry’s.”   *  *  *  *  * Professor Xavier looked out his window and coughed. A smile crept onto his face as he watched Rogue and Logan leaving for lunch. He’s finally out of the attic, He thought. Charles sighed and decided that he absolutely hated his bed, now that he had been confined to it for the good part of three months. His age combined with the infection spreading through his body made it nearly impossible to get up. He knew that his battered body was weak from fighting the virus that would take his life. He also knew it would be soon now, very soon. The warm spring day reminded him of earlier days when he was training his original team of Scott, Bobby, Warren, Hank and Jean. He remembered how innocent they all were at first and how his dream stole that innocence overnight. The Professor leaned forward to get a better look out of his window with a sad smile. He knew his X-Men were devoted to his dream and he was grateful for knowing each and every one. But he also worried that he stole their innocence and took away any chance they had at having a “normal” life. His mind then turned to Moira, the love of his life, and how he would leave her (and Hank) behind to complete the research they shared. She would carry on without him, as she had done so before, but he knew the pain it caused her to see him like this. He had sent her back to Muir Island after he last visit, asking her to not visit again so she would remember him as he was two months ago. With tears, she had said her last goodbye and left his side forever. There was a slight knock at his door and then Jean walked in with a tray. Charles, I brought you some lunch. I made you some of my homemade soup. Thank you, Jean, but I’m not very hungry right now. She looked at him with concerned eyes, but decided not to push it. I’ll leave it next to your bed in case you change your mind. He nodded and turned his gaze back to the blue sky. You should rest, Charles. You look very tired. I know. I will, soon. If you need anything, I’ll be a thought away, She smiled and then kissed his forehead, leaving a light mark of lipstick behind. Thank you, Jean. Jean smiled and left, knowing he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Charles looked at the bowl of soup and left it. He was thinking of the time he took Jean from the mental hospital when she was about twelve, maybe younger? He wasn’t all that sure anymore. But he did know she needed his help and he had always been there to give it. A tear formed in his eye as he realized that very soon he would no longer be there to help her or any of his dear friends. He leaned against his pillows, watching as a bird flew away until he could no longer see it. Charles smiled as he realized how ironic the scene was and only wished it would be that easy for him to leave. He sighed and waited for death to come for him. Little did he know how quickly it was coming.