"I'm gonna set these over here for you," he said gently, placing the bag on the nightstand beside her ginger ale. He smoothed a hand across her forehead, over her hair. "The soup might be a little bit yet, but I made some butterscotch pudding. I'll make some chocolate next. You need anything else?"

He wished he could do more for her. He wished he could take away her illness, so she was the bright, energetic Rogue he was used to. Anything to stop her from hurting.

Then he realized he could stop her from hurting. If she used her power to take a little bit of his healing factor... but she'd never agree to it. Not in the weakened state she was in now, she'd be too worried about her control. She'd only done it a couple of times before, on accident, and it had always plagued her, even though it had always been short contact, and he bounced back with minimal side effects. The way she was now, even if she did agree, she might not have the control to stop when she needed to, and he'd learned that he was powerless to pull away until she released him.

It was a slippery slope, and he wouldn't ask her to make that decision. He desperately wanted to, but he couldn't stand being the cause of any guilt she felt afterward.