Spoilers: this takes place right after X3, so nothing is safe.
Author's note: for the sake of argument, in this story, I'm placing Bobby (and by extension, Rogue and John) at 20/21 following the events of X3. That's probably a stretch, but it's no worse than the math they give us for the films, and it works for me for the canon of this story.
Dedication: to Sarafu, who put up with my gripes and my "hey will you read this section?" ten times a day. And to Lena: "Don't do it Wolverine!"
"You're back," observed Bobby.
Rogue was sitting on his bed when he opened the door, hands folded in her lap, waiting for him. She got up slowly, something odd reflected in her eyes. Bobby realized instantly that she'd actually gone through with it. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had to."
"This isn't what I wanted," he told her.
"I know," she said. "It's what I wanted." She smiled up at him, a tentative, fearful smile, and he felt something brushing his hand. He realized it was her fingers, her bare fingers, entwining cautiously in his. The both of them stared at their clasped hands, their lives suspended in a certain forever, waiting for the stinging pull. But it didn't come. "Bobby," she said quietly, "shut the door."
"Rogue..." But he knew better than to challenge the look he recognized in her eyes. The exercises where she had been team leader, she'd issued commands with a similar look. It was one that suggested she had an inkling of insight about what she was doing, and should be trusted.
While Bobby, with good reason, couldn't always trust Rogue's powers, Rogue he trusted implicitly.
They approached each other slowly, like two dogs who circled and sniffed as they met for the first time. Memories of their first kiss, their only kiss, danced through his mind. Those had been the happiest seconds of his life, where he had at last felt connected to Rogue in a way that their longest conversations and most brutal battles could not manage.
At twenty-two, Bobby had had only two girlfriends, and little to show for it. While he'd still been at high school, he'd met Laney Allen, with whom he'd shared a handful of clandestine kisses at school dances and class trips. She'd broken up with him when his secret was revealed. Shortly thereafter, he'd transferred to Xavier's School, where he had flirtations of flirtations, too concerned at the time with his newfound mutant status too even begin thinking about the opposite sex. He graduated to having actual flirtations, this time with Jubilee, when Rogue came. And that had been the end of it, because before he knew what hit him, he'd met Rogue. Marking, of course, the end of his physical romances. He sacrificed a lot by falling in love with her, but he never had regrets. His heart stopped when he was around her, and it had nothing to do with her powers. All she had to do was smile for him to feel complete.
Completion took on a new meaning, however, one that he'd never thought possible. She was kissing him. Bobby tensed in anticipation, because as much as he remembered the joy of that kiss, he could not forget the searing pain. That initial memory did so much for his life as a mutant: so he could understand the horrified expression on people's faces as they turned gray; so he knew what to expect when he and Rogue plotted tactics in the Danger Room. He liked being prepared, it (among other things) had earned him the nickname of "Boy Scout" with John. That usual preparedness was useless now, leaving him in a state of suspended animation. There was no payoff; the pain he expected never came. Rogue touched his hair, Bobby wrapped his arms tightly around her, and the pain never came. The fear was gone, and the rush he felt was one of relief and delight. He was finally kissing the woman he loved.
They continued until Bobby finally had to step back to gasp in air. He thought the occasion warranted a comment, but refrained from making one, because Rogue was staring at him with expectation, near to the point of desperation, and frankly, who was he to argue.
After what seemed like ages, although well-spent, Rogue broke away to pull at the bottom hem of her shirt. Bobby swallowed uncomfortably. "Rogue," he began, "I don't think I'm..."
"No, nothing like that. I just want you to touch me," she said. "It's been so long, I don't remember what it feels like. I just want to feel again."
Her skin was pale. Of course she would be pale, because exposure of skin to the sun meant exposure of skin in general, which was a no-no. Bobby felt uncomfortable watching her, even though he had done it before. She didn't know about that time, though, and he still felt a prick of guilt about it. Regardless, though, this time she was watching his reactions with eagle eyes. He felt like he was taking a test in the Danger Room, where every single thing he did was monitored and graded. Every blink, every telltale sign of emotion, every action was scrutinized. It made what should have been a very pleasurable act excruciating. If he studied her form too hard, she might get offended. If he didn't study hard enough, she might get offended. He was at a loss for what to do.
Rogue stood before him in her black bra, and Bobby swallowed hard, depraved for so long, but inexperienced and scared as a result. Anxious energy flowed through him more quickly than his own blood, and the only cure to this he could find was to simply pull her to him. He could smell her shampoo, and felt her skin beneath his hands, anchoring him. The ever-present fear of her powers also helped sober the hyperactive nature of his mind. But though he was in a position where death was imminent were Rogue's powers in full effect, nothing happened.
This time Bobby initiated the kiss: grateful but uneasy, eager but apprehensive. Ultimately, though, a long-repressed passion dictated their next few moments.
Bobby was still exhausted from the battle, and Rogue as well was tired from her own journey. When they finally curled against each other in Bobby's bed not long thereafter, though they craved intimacy, only weariness motivated them. At the moment, both of them were too scared to progress their relationship any further that night.
The concept of losing one's powers, totally and completely, was unfathomable to Bobby. There were so many facets to his powers alone, that he didn't know how he could survive without them. Rogue, on the other hand, had very few high points to her own powers. He was filled with questions about Rogue getting cured, but he didn't think she'd be up to the onslaught. Still, he couldn't help wondering, aloud, "Do you still hear them? The voices, I mean." Rogue used to tell him about how sometimes she could hear the voices of the people that she absorbed. Bobby and Logan had both offered themselves up willingly, acts of sacrifice. Magneto had forced his powers on her. John she had taken by surprise and he had resented her for it ever since. Piotr, Jubilee, Kitty, and Storm were in there as well, from Danger Room sessions. David, the only other boy she had ever kissed, powerless but still with memories that Rogue now shared. That was a lot of people to carry in one person's head.
"They're gone," she said. "I can remember my childhood again. I can remember it, and I know it's mine." She curled closer next to him. "I'm me again, Bobby. I'm one hundred percent me again."
"I'm glad," he told her honestly. He waited patiently in the darkening room for her to say anything more, but she didn't, merely held still until he realized she had fallen asleep. Bobby then contented himself with studying the stretch of her back, memorizing the shape of her shoulders, smoothing his fingers over her stomach and arms, reveling in the weight and warmth of her, and marveling at the utter realness of the situation, until at last he lulled himself into a relaxing sleep.
"Hey Frosty," the bark accompanied the bang on the door, "get up. Class started ten minutes ago."
The bang came louder, more flesh than merely a fist, and Bobby groaned exhaustedly, "I helped save the world. I'm taking today off."
"Doesn't work that way, bub," was the answering growl, punctuated by the door swinging open. "You don't get to—" Logan stopped dead, taking in the sight of Bobby, in bed, his arm around a half-naked Rogue. Logan blinked.
Bobby scrambled to an upright position, upsetting Rogue, who murmured in drowsy protest. She awoke seconds later, and gasped out loud when she saw a rigid Wolverine standing at the foot of the bed. She yanked the covers up to her chin, horrified, and barely managed to choke out, "Logan."
"So you got the cure," he observed.
"Nothing happened," she assured him hastily.
Logan eyed them, then said briskly, "Nothing's supposed to. That's why it's called a cure." He tapped his foot against the leg of the bed. "Clean up. Class started fifteen minutes ago." It was only with his exit that both Bobby and Rogue let out the collective breath they'd been holding.
After that, Bobby finally dared to glance over at his girlfriend. "Hi."
"Hi," she said, the accent that came to life under stress, in addition to her lingering grogginess, making her voice thick.
"Did you sleep okay?" he asked. His mind ran with a thousand bad pick-up lines and jokes that John used to assault him with regularly, including a choice few about how she wanted her eggs in the morning. But, as Rogue had so astutely put it, nothing had happened, so the voice in his head was being inappropriately inappropriate.
The smile Rogue gave him nearly broke his heart with its raw beauty. "I slept wonderfully," she said.
"Me too," Bobby said, his misgivings going out the window.
But they returned moments later, after he and Rogue had dressed for class and were headed to the sunroom where Miss Munroe was holding her weekly history lesson. They passed by a classroom just as a lecture was getting out, and suddenly, the air suffocated with tension.
"Why are you even here, Rogue?" said a girl whose name Bobby didn't know. "You're not one of us."
"You're taking up space that could go to deserving mutants," said a boy.
"Get out of here," hissed a third student.
Bobby instinctively clutched Rogue's hand. The kept their heads up and ignored the jeers of their classmates as they continued on their way. Bobby managed to make it several yards before he realized that the hand he was gripping was no longer slippery from the silk of gloves.
They slid in the back of Miss Munroe's class with sheepish looks, trying to keep low profiles, but though the class was populated largely of their friends, there were still a few glares cast Rogue's way. Bobby inched his chair closer to hers, trying to maintain a united front. He could not, however, maintain his concentration, and suspected the worst when Miss Munroe came over after the lesson ended.
"Rogue," the woman called Storm said, "you and I should have a discussion about your role at the school." She glanced pointedly at Bobby, but he stared back. He had trained with her in the Danger Room, had sat in at official X-Men meetings, and had witnessed her waffle about keeping the school open after the Professor's death. He wasn't afraid of her, and he had every right to be here.
If his conviction alone wasn't enough, Rogue chipped in with, "I'd like Bobby to stay."
"All right," said Miss Munroe, a degree of apprehension in her voice, but she resignedly pulled over a chair and sat across from her students. "Rogue," she began.
"Marie," Rogue corrected, and inexplicably, Bobby felt a pang.
Miss Munroe's eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question.
"No one else at the school goes by their codename outside of the Danger Room," said Rogue. "I don't see why I should. You don't call Bobby Iceman. Besides, I'm not a Rogue anymore."
"I suppose not," conceded Miss Munroe. "But therein lies the problem. The school is a safe haven for mutants, Rogue —Marie— and you are... well."
"The sign out front says 'Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters,'" Rogue said, striking a proud pose in her chair as she started in on her case. "It doesn't specify mutants. 'Gifted' could mean anything. When recruiting time comes around, you certainly imply that it does." Bobby winced with a recollection of his own misled parents.
"Rogue, you don't need to play defense," Miss Munroe said gently. "I'm not attacking you."
"No, you're trying to kick her out," broke in Bobby, bridling.
"Miss Munroe," said Rogue, opting for a different tactic, or perhaps just desperate, as she spoke softly, "I don't have anywhere to go. My family disowned me when they found out I was a mutant, and even if they'd take me back now that I'm cured, I don't want to stay with the kind of people who kick a person when they're down."
"I understand," said Miss Munroe, also adopting dulcet tones. "You are more than welcome to stay here, Marie. But understand that if you do, things are going to be very difficult. We'll have to readjust your curriculum, for starters. You can't exactly hold court in the Danger Room anymore. And you'll have to share a room from now on. We're getting more students, and we allowed you special circumstances because of your powers. Obviously, that won't be an issue anymore. And..." She trailed off, chewing her lower lip and glancing at a point beyond Bobby and Rogue. "Some of the students won't react so favorably to your getting cured."
"Tell me something I don't know," said Rogue.
"Try this on for size: now that we're short-staffed, and since you'd need to change everything anyway, I was hoping that you'd consider being a member of the school's teaching staff." The lack of the usual warmth in Miss Munroe's eyes led Bobby to wonder if this wasn't all just a thinly-veiled threat. Rogue could stay, but she now had to find a way to pull her weight. Special non-mutant restrictions on the open-arms policy of the school.
Still, Miss Munroe surprised him further by gracing him with a smile. "And you too, Bobby." Bobby gaped in response, and Storm rose. "I'll leave you two to consider it."
"Teaching," was all Bobby could manage. "Wow." When Rogue said nothing, he continued, "I mean, I wasn't sure what I was going to do when I was done here... It's not easy to go out in the world as a mutant, out or not. I was hoping I could continue being an X-Man, I just never considered what I'd do besides that, you know?"
Rogue bit her lip, flexing her fingers anxiously. Bobby quickly shut his mouth, regretting his need to fill silence. It was more than merely being asked to teach; Rogue clearly had a lot to deal with. Proving his theory, she said, "Will anyone want to take classes with a non-mutant teacher?"
"Well, you won't be teaching them anything about using their powers, so why not? Miss Munroe teaches history, what does that have to do with controlling the weather, or vice-versa?"
"She has no right to be so sanctimonious about me getting cured. She talks about being proud of who you are, but she actually has a power she can be proud of. Me, no matter how much I might have learned to control it, I still was dangerous to anyone I met."
"You made the decision that was right for you," Bobby said carefully. "You don't have to answer to anyone, least of all Storm." Inspired, he kissed her forehead. "I have to go to training, before Logan hunts me down again. I figure it's a one-strike-and-you're-out deal. Next time, he'll probably shish-kebob me."
His trip in the elevator down to the Danger Room was the first time he'd been alone since Rogue had broken the news. Which meant he was finally forced to confront his feelings about the situation, if he could figure out what those feelings were in the first place. Of course, Rogue being cured was only to his benefit. At the same time, however, he felt as though there was a shift in their relationship.
Bobby had to push aside his feeling of unease, getting in his training suit for a one-on-one session with Wolverine. Logan was waiting in his standard uniform of a dirty white tank and torn jeans, and he gave Bobby a once-over. Iceman instinctively feared the worst, knowing that Logan had a close relationship with Rogue, and wouldn't take too kindly to the situation he'd walked in on that morning. But all he said was, "You've learned a few tricks since I've seen you last." Technically, they'd seen each other only that morning, but Bobby knew Logan meant the stunts that the Iceman had pulled during the big stand, stuff that he'd been incapable of the last time Logan had visited the mansion.
Bobby decided to play it cool, cocking his head as if he wasn't sure to what Logan was referring. The furry fighting instructor stared him down, clearly knowing he was being baited, but finally conceded, "The ice-body thing." Bobby smiled. "That any useful?" asked Logan.
"It's living ice," Bobby said. "That's the first time I've used it in actual battle."
"Wouldn't Pyro just melt you?"
"It's living ice. It's not like some sculpture at a wedding. It's ice with a will to survive." He shrugged. "Besides, as long as there's moisture in the air, I can reform."
"From anything?" Logan cocked an eyebrow, but Bobby read it as being impressed.
"Pretty sure," said Bobby. "I mean, I haven't run a variety of tests or anything."
"Do it," said Logan, and Bobby complied, focusing on lowering his body temperature, becoming one with the water molecules in the air, feeling himself simultaneously melt and freeze. Bobby had been testing himself in private when he'd realized he could form a hard shell of ice over his body. In training sessions, he'd used the shell periodically, in small doses, usually forming it over his arms in order to deflect oncoming assaults. Over time, though, he realized that with concentration, something he required less and less of over time, he could take the molecules under the ice shell and freeze them all solidly. So that he was no longer in a shell of ice, but actually was the ice. He became it, it became him, and he demonstrated this for Logan now, turning his body fully translucent and frozen.
As response to the Iceman's impressive feat, Logan extended his claws, and firmly thrust them into Bobby's arm. There was a momentary stabbing pain, but as Logan retracted his weapon, Bobby lived up to his name of Iceman, restoring the gaping holes left behind with simple power of will.
This time, Logan actually was impressed. "That is useful."
"Not like you," Bobby said. "It only works when I'm iced. If I wasn't, and you did that, I'd probably lose an arm." He de-iced himself, restoring his body back to its natural state.
"You want a tip, kid, don't ever tell your enemies your weakness."
"I wasn't aware you were my enemy."
Logan's face twisted into a grin, the sort that made Bobby's gut flutter apprehensively. "You might reconsider that opinion later."