[note to Scott]

[x-rogue.livejournal.com]

Note slid under Scott's door; lined paper, black ink, neat writing. Put there at the time on this post.


I think I know part of it. I figured it out tonight. It's the team or the lack of it. Tonight... that was right. Do you know how long it's been since we trained? Since I trained? No one's fault, after Stanley, I was a wreck. I was little more than a liability and if it hadn't mattered so much I would have argued that I shouldn't have had my spot on the run to get Logan back.

I'm in limbo. With no Storm... I was always assigned to her, you know. I got used to it. You know what it's like, it doesn't just apply when you put the uniform on, it permeates everything. When I put everything back together, every time before when I put things back together, that was a cornerstone -- the simple fact that when things went to hell, I knew exactly who to look to and listen to and they were always there. You. Storm. Jean. I learned to look for the signal, listen for the word. Even after Stanley, that was when I knew I'd really be okay, when I got tapped to go again.

I keep waiting to be told what to do about this, you know? Not as Marie, the student/teacher, not scrubbing carpets and wiping tears. I keep waiting for 'official' word, even if it's just that someone else is taking care of it. Pathetic, maybe, but it's true. When I looked at you tonight when we were training and you gestured for me to go forward, that's when it clicked. Peace of mind.

It's not that I couldn't find it on my own. If I were living on my own somewhere, waiting tables and going through school, it'd be different. But it isn't. This is part of me and part of what being here is for me. In my way, I love it, and now more than ever, I don't want to give it up. And somewhere in the back of my head I keep waiting for the word, watching for the sign, and it's not coming. I don't know if this makes any sense, but here it is.

Marie
Rogue