Disclaimer:  The characters are not mine.  Not a single one of them.  They belong to Marvel, not me, and I'm not making any money off this, nor do I have any, so don't bother with the whole copyright infringement thingy-ma-bob-er.  I'll try to be gentle wit them.

Author's notes:  I wrote quite a bit of this by candlelight (wow, never thought I'd say that!) partly because my roommate of sorts wanted to sleep and my desk lamp is too bright, but mostly because I like candles.  There is some cursing in it.  Not an excessive amount, but Xavier fans should be forewarned that Rogue tells him off.  And for those of you who don't like the Professor…Rogue cusses out Xavier!  It takes place in an alternative reality.  Or the not terribly distant future.  Whatever it doesn't really matter.  Anyway...

The Tree

Prologue

Everyday, people lose their vision, or hearing, but not her.  Not yet – and not permanently – anyway.  No, she lost her ability to touch, and ever since the manifestation of her so-called powers, she considered the ability to feel the most precious of all the senses.  So, since she couldn't touch the skin of others without harming them and, more often than not, harming herself in the process, she did the best she could to surround herself in things that did feel good on her skin.  She liked the soft stuff – cashmere, flannel, satin.  But silk – ah, silk – was her favorite.  It had a way of resting ever so lightly on the skin, almost gliding on it when she moved in it, that she just loved.  And it was soft – so soft.  It was heavenly.

He had obviously kept this in mind when picking out the dress.  Silk.  She could tell right away, without having to look at the tag.  She loved it.  Unfortunately, though, silk is expensive, and he could only afford to rent it.  She'd hate to give it up, but she'd bother with that later and enjoy the dress while she could.  It was spearmint green, long, and flowing.  It was rather low cut, revealing quite a bit of her cleavage, and most all of her back, with spaghetti straps holding it up.  She would have preferred something that wasn't quite so revealing, but he had provided her with a pair of long gloves that went up past her elbows and matched her dress, along with a shawl to cover her back and shoulders.  The sight was really quite breath taking.

They were dancing close.  The music was slow, soft, rhythmic.  He brushed some of her reddish-brown hair from her face and leaned in so his chin was just above her shoulder.  They were dancing close.

            "Mon chere...I'm so in love with you--"

He whispered in her hear.  He was entering on to emotionally dangerous turf, and he knew it, but he didn't care.  He had been holding this back for such a long time, now, and just couldn't do it any longer.  Besides.  He meant it.

"I want you.  I want you so much it's drivin' me crazy.  I wanna make love to you--"

She trembled in his arms.  Despite all her strength, she trembled as he spoke these things to her.  It scared her, what he was saying, because of what it meant.  Her rational side told her she should stop him from saying any more, but everything else inside her wanted to listen to him, to let him finish speaking of all the acts they dared not do.

"I wanna know you, know what it's like to be inside you again--"

Gently, very gently, she began to push him away.

"Please...don't..."

She begged feebly, but he seemed to only draw her closer.

"I wanna feel your lips on mine, your body next to mine -" 

            "Stop…" her voice faltered as she uttered the word.

            She really pushed him away this time, careful not to hurt him, careful not to push too hard or clutch too tightly with her hands.  She bit her lip, swallowed hard and ran out of the restaurant.  She was about to take off in flight.  It was, after all, the fastest way to get back home.  Realizing she had a dress on, she thought better of it and hailed a cab.