Every alarm blared. The plane shook so hard Rogue thought it would break apart. Not that they had long in the air anyway. Forge's device fried the whole jet and now they were plummeting through the clouds.

"Rogue, get over here," Logan shrieked. He sat at the controls, trying to get something to work. She clutched a seat at the back of the cockpit where the initial jolt had thrown her. It was just the two of them, just them and the stupid jet that was going to kill them.

"Rogue!"

She pulled herself forward until she braced against the seat behind him. Then the G's wouldn't let her go any farther without smashing into the glass. He glanced back.

"Girl, you know only one of us is going to make it out of this crash alive," he told her. Before she realized what he was doing, he had both of his gloves off and reached out to her. Her body surged with strength.

"No, Logan," she called, trying to break free. "Don't. You'll die." She felt it, the transfer, the memories, the powers, everything. "Please." She tried to pull back, but he held on tighter. He wrapped his arms around her, more skin contact than she'd felt in she didn't know how long.

"Everything's going to be all right, darlin," he whispered, holding on as tight as he could. "Everything's going to be all right." He was weakening. Soon she'd be able to break free. Not soon enough. The ground came rushing up. The windshield shattered.

--

"No!" She bolted up in bed. Her whole body shook, dripping sweat. She was in her room in the mansion. It was dark, still night. She burst into tears.

It was two weeks ago now, two weeks since the day that changed everything. Why hadn't she let go? Logan was right. Only one of them made it out of the crash alive, and it wasn't the person who should have.

Shakily she got out of bed. She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, and even if she did she'd just have the nightmare again. She opened the door as quietly as possible and headed into the hall.

Xavier had given her her own room after the crash. Her nightmares scared the others and, well, it was just easier on everyone if she slept by herself.

She could deal with the lost sleep, but the event left more than nightmares. He gave her everything, his healing, his enhanced senses, his strength. Through the complete transfer, they found out that Logan's claws weren't surgically implanted. After a few days, bone claws grew in her arms. Now she could release them as easily as he did. All his powers were hers, but not his memories.

As she descended the stairs, a fresh wave of grief caught her. She froze in place, gripping the handrail. When the others finally found the downed jet, she was already mostly healed. Physically that is. Mentally was a whole other story. Every thought Logan ever had shouted in her mind. She couldn't stop it, couldn't control it, so they made a hard decision.

She didn't really remember the rest, how Jean knocked her out, how they brought her back to the mansion, how Xavier spent three days trying to rip Logan's memories out so she could think coherently again, but she did remember the screaming. Even with Logan's healing ability, it took a day for her throat to mend and let her speak again.

Walking down the main hall, she moved as quietly as Logan's talent could carry her. Of course, silence alone didn't really keep someone from spotting you, especially when the TV lit your figure in the doorway and that someone was waiting.

"Hey," Bobby called softly. He smelt wary like he always did when she woke up. It was like he didn't know exactly who she was at the moment.

She gave him a small smile. That always made him relax. Silently she settled onto the chair across from him.

They sat in silence for a long time. The screen was muted. Without the words, she couldn't tell what the show was about. She didn't really care though. She hadn't really been that entertained by TV since Logan died.

Finally Bobby spoke. "Another dream?" he asked.

"Hm." That was one thing she kept of Logan's. It said so much, and yet it took no effort at all. Plus, she found that most people left her alone when she did. Unfortunately, Bobby wasn't most people.

"Do you need anything?"

She shook her head. If she could feel anything for him, it would be pity. As it was, she couldn't feel anything at all. She knew in the past they flirted, but now…now her mind was on somebody else, and he happened to be dead.

Bobby rose slightly in his seat as a tear glistened in her eye. "Rogue, please let me help you," he called softly.

"Nobody can help me," she said, rising. "I killed him, and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life."

"You didn't kill him."

She stopped cold. The tone in his voice…

"I mean," he stuttered, "it wasn't your fault. He made the decision, not you."

"Go to bed, Bobby," she said. She couldn't look at him anymore. Maybe she'd try to sleep again, just for a while.

**

Every alarm blared. The plane was falling apart, but it didn't really matter. They'd be dead in a couple of minutes regardless. Logan gripped the controls, trying to slow their decent. No good. He didn't have much time.

"Rogue, get over here," he shrieked. They were the only two in the jet, the only two needed for the mission. Or at least that's what they had thought before Forge showed up. The plane jerked again.

"Rogue!"

She came up behind him, clutching a seat back, her eyes wide open. They were going to die. Or, at least, one would. He got up.

"Girl, you know only one of us is going to make it out of this crash alive," he called, taking off his gloves. The second he touched her skin, his tensed. His body drained of warmth.

"No, Logan," she shrieked, trying to pull away. "Don't. You'll die."

She pulled hard, crying as the alarms screamed at them. He was weakening. She was getting his strength. Too fast. She pushed him back and stumbled across the cabin.

"Rogue," he called. She was too far away. He couldn't reach her in time. He watched the tears swell in her eyes as the ground came rushing up. The windshield shattered.

--

"Rogue!" He bolted up in bed. He was in his room in the mansion, panting, dripping sweat. He couldn't stand it. He screamed again, gripping the sides of his head. His fingers gouged fresh wounds in his skin. His healing ability canceled it out, the ability that had failed Rogue.

It was two weeks ago now, two weeks since the day that changed everything. Why had she let go? He was ready to die for her, would have, if only he knew she would survive. But she didn't. Rogue was dead, smashed to nothing in a snarled heap of metal and wiring. That image never left his mind.

Knowing he wouldn't get back to sleep, Logan got up. He opened the door and headed down the hall. Xavier had given him a different room after the crash. His nightmares were bad before, but at least back then he didn't wake up screaming. To let the others sleep, he switched to a room off the main hall. It was isolated, but it was for the best.

He caught a scent downstairs. Jean. He didn't want to see her, but to get outside he had to pass the kitchen, and she definitely already sensed him wake up.

"Hey," she called, coming through the kitchen door. She paused, waiting. She'd been doing that a lot lately, like she was trying to decide who he was at the moment. Frankly, he wished he knew.

"Hey, Red," he muttered. He tried to get past her. She gripped his arm.

"Logan, we should talk," she said.

"Let go." He could feel the warmth of her touch through his shirt sleeve. Since Rogue died, he couldn't bring himself to touch anyone, so he wore long sleeved shirts, gloves. He stayed as covered up as the girl ever was.

"Logan," Jean said, but he cut her off. His hand snapped up and gripped her neck. He slammed her into the wall.

"Put her down."

Slim. Out of everyone at the mansion, he was the only one who didn't treat Logan any differently after the crash. Right now the guy was poised with a hand to his glasses, ready to blast Logan through the wall.

After a moment, Logan released his grip, and Jean dropped, coughing, down to the floor. He backed away.

"Logan," she wheezed as Scott crouched next to her.

"Please," he whispered. "Just leave me alone." He turned and headed outside. As he walked out into the night, he heard Scott's whisper behind him.

"You need to be more careful," he said.

"Nothing happened," Jean returned weakly.

"No, but it could have."

Logan couldn't take it. He started running. He knew he probably shouldn't. The last time he did, he'd run until his feet bled. Kurt had to teleport him back. But running, making his legs scream, was the only thing that kept the rest of him sane.