Third Time Lucky

The rain fell forcefully from the grey heavens, pattering its downpour onto the exquisite rolling lawns of Xavier's mansion. The double doors that led out onto the grounds were thrown open to a scene of decoration, albeit ruined. White ribbons hung limp and dripping from their entwined swag above the doorway. Flowers stood on pedestals, saturated in the torrential shower. Down an aisle of grass flanked by white wooden chairs, sat a large trellised arc of flowers and leaves, though its splendour somewhat dampened, literally, by the crushing blow of raindrops. A figure clad in billowing white sat on the muddied grass, her head bowed under the rain. The grounds were deserted save for her, there didn't even seem to be a breeze, just her and the cold rainfall.

Pale features streamed with rain, her wedding veil saturated against brown locks, which had since lost the earlier curl that had been applied during a busy make-up process. Trails of trickled mascara bled its black shade down her smooth cheekbones, soft eyes releasing tears that disguised themselves in the rain. The beating of the downpour was broken by the unstable gasp that breathed from the bride's rouge lips, and eyes closed to shed forth another tear. Hair, coming loose from the tiara, slipped forth, a shocking white streak gently resting against the hollow of her cheek.

Rogue sat pooled in the large billowing fabric of her white gown, her knees digging down into the waterlogged sludge, Her cold, numb hands, necessarily covered by intricate lace gloves, clasped tightly to the stems of her bouquet, as though needing some warped comfort from how painful they gripped the stalks of her beautifully cliché roses. At twenty-five years of age, this was the second time Rogue had found herself at the altar without a marriage. She had been minutes from marrying her third and last love, the guests gathered in their seats, watching with joy and anticipation, when all of a sudden Professor Xavier had apologised profusely for his interruption, then continuing to explain that his X-Men needed to urgently get to Washington where a riot had ensued over mutant rights. There was understandable hesitation as eyes fell back upon the betrothed couple, before as one they all knew that this was one of many sacrifices they had to make as a superhero, and they ran indoors.

Stomach filling with lead, Rogue had been unable to move as her groom slipped from her side to join the others. She stood there, watching in silence as the other, non-X-Men guests began taking amongst themselves.

Since, they had left, for hours had passed. Rogue had remained stood at the altar, the once sun-filled skies eventually darkening over with rain clouds that pursued to unleash the downpour. Sinking to her knees in the muddied earth, a heartbroken Rogue could only weep at how her perfect day had come to a perverse halt.

At the doorway, Charles Xavier watched her with a frown. Having been forced to let the priest leave for his other duties, the only remaining guest was he for the students had since hidden away indoors. Quietly, he steered his chair across the mud of the grounds, ignoring the harsh rain that fell on his smooth, unwrinkled suit. "Rogue," he said softly as he stopped besides her, resting an aged hand against her shoulder. "Come inside, my dear."

Lifting her bowed head, she turned blackened eyes upon him, regarding him tearfully. "I can't."

"You must be soaked."

"I'm numb," she assured him in a scratchy voice. "In all aspects."

Sighing softly, Charles rubbed her shoulder with reassurance. "Indeed, luck has not been upon you today. It is unfortunate."

"It's so unfair," cried Rogue, not caring how childish her wail may sound. "All I want is to marry him, why do I keep getting stopped?"

"I promise you, you will be married by the end of the week."

Glancing down at her lap, Rogue closed her eyes as more tears fell. "Why do I keep being denied of the thing I want most?" Rogue knew it couldn't be helped, for the X-Men's normal lives were often disrupted because of the duties they had embraced. But it still hurt; it hurt like she had been jilted. She felt abandoned.

Charles did not answer her, for he saw the X-Jet glide across the gloomy skies as it made haste towards the basketball court across the orchard. His hand remained upon her shoulder, him watching her. It didn't take long for hurried footsteps to sound in the mansion behind them with the heavy breaths of the speedy arrival. Charles turned his chair from Rogue, departing as he passed the returned groom with a solemn nod of his head.

Rogue continued to cry, her drenched hair sticking against her pale cheeks. Behind her, heavy footsteps squelched through the mud as she was joined by her fiancé. She felt his strong hand enclose her shoulder with affection, the black leather warm against the thin material of her wedding gown.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his rough voice low and troubled at the sight.

Holding back another sob, Rogue tilted her head back to stare up at her groom. "Logan.." she whispered weakly, feeling his protective embrace surround her as he helped her to her feet. Her eyes trailed over him, noticing the array of dirt and blood that adorned him, his uniform sporting rips and other signs of damage. His dark brown hair spiked over his forehead, dripping from the rain he was saturated in.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his sincerity wholly evident.

"It's not your fault," she managed to say, swallowing at the burning lump in her throat. "You had to go and help them. I.. couldn't have fought, Logan. I needed to stay behind."

Resting his forehead against the top of her veil, he issued a brief kiss to her brow. "I understand."

"Everything's ruined," Rogue said quietly, trying her best to keep the accusing tone out of her voice. But even if it didn't come with her speech, her eyes regretfully held it. Logan noticed it as his eyes returned to hers after he had pulled back to scan the spoiled scene.

"I'm sorry," he said again, finding it hard to say anything else that explained his intense regret for the spoilt day.

Glancing down momentarily at her dirtied dress, Rogue breathed in with a shaky sniff. "I look horrible," she whispered.

Logan's eyes scanned her soaked features as the rain continued to fall around them. Her make-up stained her cheeks; her extravagant dress sodden and dirty. He shook his head slowly, a hand taking her by her lithe waist. "No, you look beautiful," he assured, wiping the offending mascara from her wet face with the thumb of his gloved hand.

Rogue's plump lips took on an awkward smile, her sniffs evidence of her calming tears. "How did it go in Washington?"

"We managed to calm them down, move off some angry mutants. It was pretty hostile though, Storm got injured." At Rogue's raised eyebrows, he added, "She hurt her leg, but Beast is sorting her out as we speak."

"Let's go and see her," Rogue quickly said, turning from him to begin walking into the mansion.

But Logan held her back as he grabbed her departing hand, "Wait," he said. When she paused, he tugged to pull her up against him, bringing her close as he leant down to kiss her gently. It was brief, to be safe, but spontaneously amorous, and Rogue felt her form slump weakly against the chest of his leather uniform. "I love you," he whispered, stroking dripping strands from her face with a brush of his fingers.

Smiling, Rogue raised her gloved hand to take his, caressing his fingers tightly. "I love you too," she replied softly, sidling up to him as she turned. The pair slowly walked down the empty aisle of muddied puddles, departing the saturated scene, still not leaving like they thought they might have - as man and wife.

Originally decided as a one-shot, but admittedly this story has potential to be developed to see what happened in the lead up to this moment and after. Let me know what you think!