“Hey, kid.”
Logan stepped quickly up beside Rogue as she hurried between classes, from taking one class to substitute-teaching another.
“Hey, geezer.”
“Point taken,” he slid one arm around her shoulders as they walked the crowded hallway, the throng of kids parting around the two as Rogue eyed them uncomfortably.
“Have you noticed how they still avoid touching me, or even getting in my ‘personal space?’ It’s kind of amazing in a not nice way. I guess old habits do die hard.” Logan marked the tone of sadness in her voice. He playfully tugged a lock of her long hair.
“Maybe it’s not you they’re avoiding.”
“Sugar, you may be the resident bad-ass with a Ph.D. in intimidation, but I can smell a line of bullshit from a mile off.” Rogue saw the mischievous grin cross Logan’s lips before they rounded the corner to her classroom where her students were already filing into their seats.
“You got plans for tonight?”
“No,” Rogue nodded her head toward the waiting students. “I have to go in now and make like a teacher.” She waggled her instructor’s manuals at him.
“Have dinner with me tonight. Oh, and I owe you an apology.”
Rogue looked surprised. “Uh, okay to dinner, but why do you owe me an apology?”
Logan was already walking backwards down the hall, still grinning at her. “I didn’t carry your books for you.” He tossed her a rakish wink, then turned to walk away. Rogue thrust her head beyond the doorframe to block some of the conversation from the kids within the classroom, knowing he would hear her either way.
“Well, at least you didn’t dip my white hair in the ink well, you bodacious flirt!”
“I love your skunk locks, darlin’!”
“Same to ya, bristle head!”
Rogue heard one bark of laughter from Logan before he rounded another corner out of sight, and the surge of students’ laughter from the classroom brought her attention back to the job at hand.
After several hours of missed conversations, cell phone tag, and unavoidable interruptions, Logan and Marie settled into a booth in a noisy roadhouse twenty minutes from the mansion. Ordering food and drinks, they tried to engage in ‘shop’ talk, but the racket in the place kept them repeating themselves just to be heard. Logan slid out of his side of the booth and slid in next to Rogue.
“This place is crazy tonight - let’s finish our food, then go back to my room and hang out where we don’t have to shout, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Rogue reached across the table and drew Logan’s plate to him, indicating that he should stay right where he was at her side. They ate in their own world of silence, Marie giggling once at Logan’s grimace when a truly bad singer took the microphone for a round of karaoke. The brittle-voiced barfly enthusiastically worked a screeching rendition of “Stand By Your Man.” Leaning in to Marie’s ear, Logan said, “Sounds like someone trying to kill a guitar with a cat.” The snort of laughter that burst forth from Marie made part of the french fry she’d been chewing land on the table.
“Gah! Don’t make me embarrass myself like that!” She slammed a paper napkin over the mess and stuffed it under the rim of her plate. Again slipping an arm around her shoulders, Logan chuckled against her until she felt the vibration in her own body. She realized that her left hand had come to rest comfortably on his thigh beneath the table. Slowly she withdrew her hand as unobtrusively as possible, but he had noticed - she could tell. He turned his face directly to her and looked straight into her eyes, showing no emotion other than an openness that he rarely displayed to anyone.
Waiting for a reaction, she sat in silence until the moment had passed. With a wince at the screeching end of the song, Logan turned back to his food. Rogue gave him a friendly nudge in the ribs with her elbow, and they finished their meal. Throwing a few bills on the table, Logan tossed the helmet to her, and within moments they were back on the motorcycle and gliding through the night air, going home.
“Up for a movie, Logan?” Rogue grabbed the remote from the coffee table in Logan’s room, quickly scanning a few channels for something they could zone out on as they sat in comfort and enjoyed each other’s company. TCM offered up “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” - perfect. “You ever gonna get some technology in here? Maybe a DVD player or a stereo or something? You could watch porn flicks in comfort and privacy.”
“If you wanna watch some porn, there’s a DV-thing downstairs, and I know where the good smut stash is kept.” Logan cracked the top off a Molsons from the little fridge, and handed her a soda before settling on the sofa at her left side and crossing his ankles on the coffee table.
“Gimme a sip of that stuff, mister.”
“You’re not old enough yet, are you? Or did I miss something?”
“Pah! I’m at least a hundred tonight.”
“How d’ya figure that?”
“With you, and Eric, and me, and life all running around in my head, I’m probably older than you by a long shot. And with you in here...” she tapped one finger against the side of her head, “I’ve got a taste for Molsons, but I draw the line at the cigars.” She made an ‘ick’ face and gave a theatrical shudder.
Logan quirked his eyebrows into a sign of acceptance, and handed her the long neck. Taking one lady-like sip, Rogue smacked her lips, made the required ‘ahhhh’ and handed the bottle back to him. Settling back onto the sofa, she watched the movie for all of seven seconds before Logan spoke.
“Why haven’t you touched me yet?” There was no tone of disapproval or disappointment in his question, just curiosity; but it still caught Rogue completely off guard. Logan clarified his question, “Ya know, skin to skin. You’ve touched my clothes, brushed by me a couple of times, but no direct contact. Why?”
She bought time to think by drinking a long chug of soda before answering him. “Well, a lot of people are still treating me weird. Truthfully, I’ve only touched two people so far: Bobby, of course, and Hank while he was running some medical tests on me.”
“I figured you’d touched your boyfriend - you probably been waitin’ a long time for that. Was it good?” He swigged on the beer, purposely avoiding her eyes and concentrating on the screen with a neutral facial expression.
“No, it wasn’t.”
Now it was Logan’s turn to be caught off guard. Marie saw him frown and blink several times before he turned his head toward her.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” All his focus was on her now, the movie momentarily forgotten by both of them.
“Not physically, if that’s what you mean. He’s just... disapproving of the choice I made. He and Storm are pretty much in the same camp about taking the cure. And I doubt there are any students left who don’t know I took the cure, based on the way gossip flies around here like bats in a cave. But they still keep a distance from me, so I’m wondering... maybe they think the cure is ‘catching’ and they’ll get their powers negated if they get close to me. I went from being untouchable to being a pariah.” Logan noted the tremor in her voice, the tears building up in her eyes, threatening to overflow her lashes. Marie dashed her fingers over her eyes, wiping it away.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why not me?” Logan reached for her bare hand where it rested on the sofa between them. Marie didn’t pull away, but simply allowed him to put his hand over hers, then he grasped and lifted her hand, lacing his left fingers through hers.
“I really don’t know, Logan. I thought everything was gonna be so different... so much better. And in some ways, it is: I can go without gloves, without long sleeves, I can relax. Well, I can relax if I ever learn ‘how’ to relax.” She was deep in thought for a moment before continuing, “I had expectations about how people would react, and I was wrong on every count. I knew Storm disapproved of the cure in general, but I thought she would see how it could help me personally, in my unique situation. I was wrong. I thought Bobby would be thrilled, but I was wrong. I didn’t know how you’d react, so I was just laying low with you, I guess.... waiting to see how you felt about it.”
“I told you how I felt about it when we talked before - it’s your life, your decision.”
“Did you think then that I would go ahead and do it?” She wriggled her fingers tighter into his grasp, enjoying the firm strength, the warm skin, the tender grip of his hand on hers.
“Yeah. I’m no mind reader, but I figured you would. Of all the mutants I’ve met, you have the most to gain from taking the cure. Sure, people like Hank and Kurt - well, it costs them a lot because their mutation is so damned obvious. But the ‘not being able to touch someone’ thing... that’s deeper than skin. At least, that’s the way it seems to me.”
“It feels that way to me. I’ve had to give up too much: my family, my home, anything resembling a normal life; marriage, sex, children... and not necessarily in that order, mind you.” She drifted off for a moment before continuing, “Now, at least I’ve got a shot at those things if I decide I want them later. Right now, I’m not so sure about anything.”
“Why have you been hammerin’ on Drake so hard during training? Are you ‘that’ pissed at him?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Marie looked down in something like shame, but refocused again and continued, “Things with Bobby aren’t going well - in fact, I don’t know if I want to keep seeing him or not. It’s getting complicated, and I really can’t handle complicated right now.”
“Have you jumped him yet?” Marie heard the teasing tone in Logan’s voice, but she didn’t rise to the bait.
“No, I haven’t.” He grew silent at her matter-of-fact statement, so Rogue continued, “I thought when I came back from taking the cure, I’d meet him in my room, which did happen by the way. He’d sweep me into his arms, touch my bare skin with awe and reverence, and we’d fall onto the bed and make mad, passionate love for the first time.” She sighed deeply, then, “It didn’t quite work out that way. In fact, things have been going sour for a while now, even before ‘the cure.’ Maybe that’s just bringing it all to a head.”
“What was it like, taking the cure? Did you go to that clinic that was on the news?” In the rare times when he was talkative, Logan could change topics at the speed of lightning, but he was all seriousness now. He’d wanted her to open up and talk, and she was obliging. He would keep her talking, give her space, let her ramble if she needed to work things out.
“Yeah. It was clinical, and impersonal, and a lot like getting in a line for a flu shot in some ways, but it hurt,” she felt the long fingers of his free hand lace through her hair, stroking and comforting her as he always had, without touching her skin, yet his left hand stayed entwined with hers.
“How bad was it?”
“It kind of burned at first, the serum spreading through my veins... and it made me shake for a while like an adrenalin overload. I felt kind of nauseated for a long time, but that slowly wore off. Probably in five or six hours I felt back to normal. They had little cubicles set up like an emergency room, with cots and curtains to block them off for privacy. It was a production line: move ‘em in, move ‘em out. Some mutants had a rougher time with it than others. The ones who got really sick got the cots until they recovered. Lots of the kids were crying when their parents took them to get the injection - that pretty much unnerved me. I almost walked out when one little girl was screaming as they injected her. I guess her parents had her tested and they found the X-gene, so they had her ‘fixed’ before she manifested. It was pretty horrifying. The thought keeps wandering around in my mind, wondering what her mutation would have been, you know? If she would have been some kind of super intelligent brain that could discover a cure for cancer or something like that, and they chose to have her fixed before she even had a chance to manifest anything.”
Marie felt Logan’s hand move from her hair, encircle her shoulders and pull her against him. His thumb had started stroking the velvet of her cheek as she talked and occasionally drew a little shuddering breath from the stress of her memories.
“You should have asked me to go with you, because I would have in a heartbeat. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know, but it didn’t seem right, like I had to do this on my own. Sort of a rite of passage.” She grew silent for a moment. “Have you ever thought about taking the cure?”
Logan frowned at the unexpected question, but answered her honestly. “I think every mutant probably rolled the idea around, whether we approve of the whole concept or not. Yeah, I thought about it, for about ten seconds. That’s how long it took me to weigh the good with the bad. Hell, when it comes to mutations, and discounting the whole Stryker experience, I’ve got it pretty good. I’m healthy, strong, I don’t age, I rarely even get tired. I don’t get drunk for more than a few minutes, and granted, sometimes ‘that’ sucks...” He trailed off with a grin as Marie giggled at the comment, then Logan continued, “The regeneration factor really kicks up the sex drive, too, and helps with performance. So, no complaints there, either.”
Laughing, Marie looked at him with blushing cheeks as he grinned at her before growing serious again. “But none of that stuff is costing me a shot at a normal life, like you mentioned. If I wanted any of that, I could have it: the whole ‘white picket fence’ routine, kids, wife, etc. Not ageing would make it go bad eventually. I mean, if I had a wife and kids, chances are I’d outlive them all. I don’t even want to think about that. And the prospect of getting sick, getting old and feeble, being vulnerable to injury or even death from the simplest thing... well, there’s nothing there to make me want to take the cure. I suppose if the cure proves to be legitimate, and I’m not saying it isn’t, but sometime down the road if I wanted it, then I could go for it. But I’ll be truthful with you, Marie: there were a lot of times in the past when I tried to off myself in a variety of gruesome ways, when I didn’t want to live. Things change. Now I do want to live. I’ve gotten enough time and distance between me and the bad parts of my past that I can remember, and I’ve got a purpose for myself. So, as far as I’m concerned, taking the cure would be a form of slow suicide for me. At this point in my life, I don’t want that. It would cost me too much.”
Turning her back toward the television and folding her legs underneath her, Marie snuggled closer to Logan, half laying in his lap as he held her in his arms, and she let her fingers touch both sides of his face, stroking his brow, his cheeks; he’d shaved around the muttonchops today. He was smooth there. She let one finger lightly tap at his lower lip.
“When did you become so wise, sugar?”
“I wasn’t aware that I was,” his voice grew soft and low, the tone that always melted her because she rarely heard it except when they were alone together and comfortable. Marie stroked his brow again before she slipped one hand against the thick muscles of his chest. Looking him straight in the eye, she posed a question.
“Do you realize how much we’ve both changed in such a short time? It’s pretty amazing.”
“Well, let’s see...” he teased her with a smile. “I almost killed you, you almost killed me twice, we both fell in lust with people here, and it went badly...” Marie noted the sense of amusement fading from his voice, but he pursued the list. “I stopped trying to see if I could kill myself. You stopped trying ‘not’ to kill people, by taking the cure. I sorta settled down, and you definitely...” He stopped short, not finishing the sentence.
“I definitely what?”
“Grew up.”
Marie studied his hazel eyes intently, looking for some clue as to why he suddenly grew tense at the mention of her maturing.
“Is that a bad thing?” Her eyes never left his as she tried to drill her awareness into his through their eyes, trying to read him, trying to understand what he was saying, but he was a hard man to read sometimes.
“No, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” Logan’s hand moved around her waist now, and he pulled her closer against him, half embracing her, but he felt tense, awkward, unsure how to handle her closeness. Wanting to break the tension, Marie pursued the conversation.
“I’ll make you a deal, sugar. We’ve both changed in tremendous ways. Let’s really make a fresh start. I hereby release you from your pledge to take care of me. I’m a whole new person, you know? I’m older, stronger, more capable of taking care of myself and a lot of that... oh hell, most of that is thanks to you, for teaching me to fight and defend myself. And yeah, maybe it’s a lot of what I absorbed from you; your attitude, your confidence. But I’ll make you a new deal. Let’s take care of each other: help each other out, learn from each other, really start out on a fresh path. What do you think about that proposal?”
Logan chuckled softly before meeting her eyes again. “It sounds great, but I don’t need to be ‘released’ from any promises I ever made you. They stand. But your new deal sounds good, too, so let’s just add that onto the deal we’ve already got.”
“But you’re coming out on the short end of the stick, and I’m trying to balance things here. Make it fair for both of us. Just say, ‘yes, Marie - that’s an excellent idea.’ I can wait.” She twiddled one stray lock of his dark hair around her fingers and waited.
He said nothing.
She hummed a few bars of the theme from “Jeopardy.”
He said nothing. The man had a perfect poker face.
“I will wear you down until you agree.”
Nothing.
“I will torment you until you agree.”
The left eyebrow crawled up exactly one-quarter inch.
“I know where you’re ticklish. You will agree.”
The lips smirked, which she knew was just his way of ‘not’ smiling when something amused him, but still remained silent.
Quietly, gently, she leaned into his right side, lips by his ear, and whispered, ‘You’re dead meat, mister.”
Instantly her fingers shot to his ribs and she began tickling him mercilessly as he exploded in laughter, grabbing her and sliding with her to the floor as they both thrashed legs and arms, accidentally shoving over the table and upsetting his empty bottle. It only took moments before Logan had grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms to the floor to stop the tickling, as they both playfully struggled against the other. But she had made him laugh heartily, which wasn’t easy.
Marie realized that his legs were straddle of hers, his body above hers, his hands pinning her arms above her head, and their breath mingling in the small space between them. She’d always known that he was a big guy, but having his entire body stretched out over hers made her realize just how big he was, all hard-muscled, long-limbed, broad-shouldered and always incredibly gentle with her.
The look in Logan’s eyes was still unreadable, but the hardening bulge in the front of his jeans was unmistakable as it pressed against her low belly. To her surprise, he spoke to her in a low, breathy whisper.
“Has he kissed you since you took the cure?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Rogue and Logan reassess their relationship, resulting in overturned furniture.