Slapping her hand down on the bottle of antibiotics, Rogue ordered, “Take this. Get back on the dosing schedule, ‘cause it’s nothing to mess around with, and you know it. I’m late for class AGAIN!” She planted a quick kiss on a sleepy Logan’s forehead and gave him a sexy wink before she scrambled for the door, “I’ll be back before lunch. Behave yourself!”
Logan looked at his hands, shoved his fingers through his unruly hair, and studied the bottle intently. It was time to start his new life.
Today.
He rolled out of bed and hit the ground with hard-focused determination in his hazel eyes, trying to ignore the slight hang-over. What was it they said helped? Aspirin? Water? Hair of the dog sounded better, but this was a new life, right? Yeah.
At ten-thirty Rogue walked toward the room where Piotr was subbing Logan’s self-defense class for the younger students. She expected to hear the Russian giant’s deep, serene voice, but caught a glimpse of Logan going through the door. Unable to resist, she stepped to the side of the door and listened, knowing his senses were no longer heightened enough to know she was eavesdropping. She listened intently as his gravel-edged voice boomed above the buzz of the students.
“Okay, Tin Man - thanks for handling this bunch of rowdies for me, but I’m taking over this class again, starting now.” Piotr graciously stepped back with a grin, but remained near the door, watching as Logan addressed the class.
“Most of you probably know by now that something happened to me a few days ago. I was injected with the mutant cure vaccine in an attack. My mutation is gone.” He held up both hands to display the stitches, “You’ve seen my claws come out before, and now you see what happened because of it. My skin didn’t heal. I had to get stitched up by the doc. I don’t heal fast now; I heal just like everyone else. I needed to take a few days off to get better, but now I’m back, and this class goes on as usual. I’m gonna be talkin’ you through a lot of your routines and exercises because you gotta keep your distance from me for a few more days until this heals up better. No direct hand-to-hand sparring with me for a while.”
The eyebrow rose in challenge as he continued, “ That doesn’t mean I’m gonna be soft on any of you. Neither does it eliminate the reality of an ass-kicking, if it’s needed, ‘cause the feet still work.” Several students grinned and chuckled while a few looked decidedly intimidated.
Rogue couldn’t resist, and leaned forward to peer through the half-opened door. Logan was standing in the middle of the self-defense class wearing fresh sweats, his chin neatly shaven and with his hair combed into something resembling order, scanning every face that looked up to him, “Everyone understand me? Good - pair up and let’s get to work.” Students scrambled for their mats and their favorite sparring partners as Logan instructed them in their routines, giving encouragement or helpful criticism where needed.
Rogue stepped back away from the door and leaned against the wall, smiling, eyes closed in relief and thankfulness. The Logan they all knew and loved was back!
At lunch time Rogue sat with him as the students chattered noisily in the dining hall. “I heard you took your class back this morning. Don’t you think it’s a little soon?”
“Nope.” He forked a chunk of ham loaf and chewed intently.
“I’m just worried about you,” she spoke softly, and noted Bobby watching her intently from another table. She smiled and nodded at him, but he turned away. Rogue knew trouble was brewing, but she’d deal with trouble one man at a time. “There’s no reason you can’t take the rest of the week off. Give yourself some time to....”
“No point.” Logan turned to her and drilled his eyes into hers, “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Marie. I’ve had nothing else much to do for two days but think about it. I don’t like what’s happened, but I can’t change it. That’s the reality. My mutation is gone, and I can’t make it come back. I’ve got to learn a lot of stuff all over again: how to live, how to fight effectively, how to work without the punched-up senses, how to treat my body since I don’t heal fast now. There’s a hell of a lot to do, and there’s no point in layin’ around, waiting for life to happen. I don’t let things happen, darlin’ - I make things happen. I don’t ever remember a time that I wasn’t a mutant. I don’t remember ever ‘not’ having the regeneration, the heightened senses, everything,” he gently picked up the coffee cup with one hand and took a sip. “My life as a human starts today. I gotta meet that challenge head-on.”
“Damn straight, sugar,” Rogue beamed a proud smile at Logan and patted his leg under the table. Turning back to her plate, she saw Bobby standing right in front of her.
“We need to talk, Rogue.” Bobby glared at her and Logan in turn before continuing, “Where have you been the last two nights? I haven’t been able to find you anywhere.”
Before Rogue could form an answer, Storm interrupted the confrontation. “Bobby, I need you right away. It’s business,”she cast a knowing glance at him, indicating X-Men business.
“What’s goin’ on, Storm?” Logan was tensed to rise, but Storm shook her head at him.
“Logan, you’re on leave, and this is not a hostile situation for any of us. I’ll update you later. Bobby, in my office now, please?” The curt, gentle force of Storm in leader-mode was not to be argued with, and Bobby cast one more angry glance at the two as he turned to leave.
Logan turned to Rogue who still sat in silence, “You haven’t broken up with him yet, have you?”
“No. There just hasn’t been the proper time or place yet. It’s not something I can do over lunch, or on a mission, or in front of other people.”
“Are you sure you want to?” Rogue’s head snapped around in shock to regard the man she’d slept with the past two nights, the man she’d chosen to become her eventual lover.
“How can you even ask me that, after the last two nights, and what we’ve done to each other? What we’ve done ‘with’ each other?”
Logan laid his fork down and looked her straight in the eyes. “I told you this,” he lowered his voice for her ears only, “you’re still a virgin. That hasn’t changed. And you’re a woman with a mind of your own. I’d whack off a finger for the first shot at you, babe - that’s a given. But that’s also me being selfish and possessive. Call it a guy-thing. But, I love you enough to want you to be sure, absolutely sure, that you’re doing what you want, getting what and who you want.”
“You love me?” Rogue could hardly find enough air for making the words.
“Yeah,” his voice went soft, “yeah, I do.” They leaned together and Logan kissed her quickly, gently on the lips. “I always have.”
The noisy background chatter in the room suddenly dwindled down to a noticeable lull. Turning to see what had happened, Rogue saw almost every face in the room aimed toward them. She groaned inwardly at the variety of expressions, from surprise to leering grins to Kitty with her mouth hanging open in shock.
Oh shit.
Snapping a look at Logan, Rogue noted his calm expression. When the silence stretched uncomfortably, he snarled to the room, “So, what’s the problem?” Immediately all heads returned to their former activities of eating and talking, only now in whispers. The babble of hushed voices swept the room like a storm front.
At her corner table, Shelly Hanson jotted a few notes on her napkin and tucked it in her class folder, then smiled into her coffee cup. Nothing perked up a cup of decaf like a little lunch-hour drama.
*
Bobby entered the MacKenzie apartment to find Mike laid out on the sofa, a kitchen towel stuffed with ice laid over his left eye. Bruises blossomed over his jaw and both forearms.
“Okay, buddy - fill me in. What happened?”
“Same old shit,” Mike started to say.
Immediately his sister shushed him, with a stern, “Michael! Language!”
Jenny gave him the evil eye, which Mike ignored, continuing, “Three guys on the street, cornered me, started talking shit about me escaping through the sewer like the other rats, and then they beat the shit out of me. Same shit, different day.”
“Michael, stop saying that word!”
“Would you prefer ‘fuck,’ Jen?”
Bobby interrupted the sibling’s grousing, “Do you need a doctor? I can arrange it; we have a doctor on staff who is a mutant, so there’s no risk, no expense, and no hassle. Will you agree to it?” Bobby didn’t like the look of the bruises, although Mike seemed calm about it all.
“Nah. I’m not that messed up. I’ve had worse beatings and lived to tell the tale. Where’s that girl who came with you before? I liked her. Oops,” he commented with a grin. “I forgot - she’s your girlfriend. Sorry, dude. I’m not poaching, just thought she was pretty cool.”
“Yeah, she is pretty cool. She was busy back at the school,” Bobby stood up and looked at Jenny. “I’m glad you called. I want you both to remember that the school offers many options for Mike.” Bobby looked directly at Mike, “If you want, I’ll drive you there tonight. If you want more time to think on it, just make sure you keep in touch. On my word, man, it’s the safest place I know, and the healthiest place for a mutant, especially a young one. Remember that.”
“I’m not ready to give up yet. And I’m not ready to let ‘them’ win,” Mike nodded his head toward the streets below their apartment window.
“Please stay for a while. I’ve got coffee brewing, and there’s iced tea, too,” Jenny smiled at Bobby and hooked her thumb toward the small kitchen. “We can talk more. I’ve still got questions.”
“Sure - thanks,” Bobby turned to ask Mike if he needed more ice just as a shattering sound jarred the room. Shards of glass splattered over the furniture, over Mike, and pieces bounced off Bobby’s jacket. A chunk of brick thudded against the floor, inches from where Mike laid, and he came off the sofa in one leap. Jenny screamed as another object hurtled through the broken window, and Bobby shoved her into the kitchen, out of harm’s way.
More shattering glass splattered the room, and a burst of flame followed it. Someone on the street had pitched a molotov cocktail in a beer bottle into the room. The stench of gasoline saturated the air in the small apartment and flames were racing over the carpet and walls. Grabbing Mike’s arm and pulling him into the kitchen with his sister, Bobby stood in the doorway and laid frost over the flames, lowering the fire, then erasing it, but the eye-watering, breath-stealing stink of petrochemicals remained.
Jenny was shaking and crying, and Mike was white-faced. Bobby went quickly to the wall, edged along toward the broken window, and cautiously snapping a look down to street level, but there was no one suspicious in the area. Whoever had pitched the fire bomb had undoubtedly left immediately.
Staring down at the car he’d borrowed from the garage for the trip into the city, he saw the words ‘mutie lover’ spray-painted over the windshield and hood.
Returning to the kitchen where Mike was opening windows to air the place out, Bobby asked, “Is there any reason we shouldn’t call the police? Like, a rap sheet, outstanding fines, anything?”
The siblings, one mutant, one human, looked at each other for only a moment before Jenny answered for them both, “No, we’re clean.”
“Good. Call 911, and I’ll report in to the school by cell.”
Storm, Rogue and Logan were waiting in the garage when the three returned two hours later, the vandals’ paint still sprayed over the car. After completing the police questioning, they’d packed as many personal belongings in the car as possible and left the apartment locked. They could go back for the rest of the stuff later, when it was safer.
Bobby glared momentarily at Logan’s right hand resting on Rogue’s shoulder, but maintained his professional demeanor, making introductions all around.
“Welcome to Mutant High, kid,” Logan kept his hand on Rogue to prevent offering a handshake, but Rogue stepped up and welcomed them both with hugs, leaving Logan to examine the vandalized car.
Rogue stepped to Bobby’s side as Storm led the siblings to accommodations for the night. Noting Drake’s torn jacket, which still reeked of gasoline, Rogue asked, “Bobby, are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Glad you didn’t go, though. It was rough,” he smiled at her for the first time in days, and Rogue instinctively hugged him out of relief. Feeling momentarily guilty, she glanced surreptitiously at Logan where he still remained studying the damage to the car, his head turned away. Easing back from Bobby, she spoke softly, “You’d better get cleaned up. My eyes are watering from the smell of gasoline on you. And the next time Storm says it’s a non-hostile mission, think twice.”
Logan stood staring at the car, the driver’s side window mirroring everything that went on behind him. He saw Rogue step forward to embrace Drake, saw them whisper to each other, smile, be tender. He automatically tried to focus on their words above the hum of the fluorescent lights over their heads, but nothing came. The damned enhanced hearing was truly gone.
But he’d seen enough to start a tendril of doubt growing in his mind.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Logan gets his act together, Bobby gets to be a hero, and Rogue gets misunderstood.