Parking the jeep at the curb, Logan slid out and tossed the keys to Piotr. Thumbing through several lists of needed items for the school, Logan handed one list to big Russian for the hardware store, ranging from duct tape, solder, and rechargeable batteries, to some odd-sized screws and cotter pins. To Rogue he handed two lists: one for the computer store next door listing an assortment of chips, discs, a half dozen optical mice (they’d had a lengthy and pun-riddled discussion in the jeep whether it should be optical mouses or optical meese), and a case of laser paper. A second list with only a hand-written address in Logan’s distinctive scrawl, and a ticket stub stapled to it was stuffed into Rogue’s hand. Eyeing the ticket stub, Rogue cast a suspicious eye at her friend.
“What’s this for?”
“Just go there - it’s on the corner,” he hooked a thumb toward the far end of the street. “Give the stub to the manager, and he’ll take it from there.”
“If this is a bookie or some kind of Cuban contraband shop, I’m so telling Storm. And where will you be?” Rogue’s suspicion-bells were going off in a big way.
“I’ll be over...” Logan turned and scanned the park, “...there.” He pointed straight into the park.
“You’re going into the park while we run errands? How not fair is that!?!” Rogue poked him hard in the ribs, making him sidle away from her with a grin, but she knew it was pointless.
Piotr just smiled knowingly and leaned toward Rogue to whisper in a conspiratorial manner, “There’s a bar called O’Houley’s, straight across the park on the next block. That’s where he always ditches me for, when we make these runs.”
“Lush,” snarked Rogue.
“Ah, now, be nice! I’ve got the plastic,” Logan waved the credit cards in front of her nose. “Okay, this one’s for both the hardware and the computer store. Go together to get the computer stuff first - they’re slow and it’ll be a lot to carry. Dump it in the jeep, then Piotr, you hit the hardware while Marie runs down the other address. I’ll meet you back here in an hour, on the nose.”
Rogue craned her neck trying to see down the street to the unknown address with the mysterious ticket stub. “But what is this?”
Logan handed her a different credit card for that errand. “Just do it.”
Rogue and Logan stared each other down, neither one blinking, until Marie got bored enough to surrender.
“Okay. Computer, hardware, mystery ticket. Probably a freakin’ pawn shop,” she muttered as they entered the computer store, and Logan jaywalked through traffic with his trademark swagger, intent on cold beer.
With one errand down and the bags locked in the back of the jeep, Piotr entered the hardware as Rogue headed down the street for the mystery errand. Reaching the corner, she double-checked the address and confirmed: it was a tiny jeweler’s shop, little more than a hole in the wall operation. The door tinkled a little wall-mounted bell as she entered and asked for a manager, handing over the ticket.
“Ah, yes!” A swarthy man in an elaborate turban ushered her behind a curtained wall and seated her before a worktable cluttered with an assortment of small crafting tools, chains on reels, and a lighted magnifying mirror on a swing arm. Producing a small box from a drawer, he opened it to display a cloisonne necklace: a delicate lavender, pink and white magnolia blossom edged in gold. Real gold. It just sat there and glowed at her. It was the most elegant thing she’d ever seen. Pulling a few selections of gold chain from a display, the jeweler draped them over his hand and offered them to her.
“Which style would you like, and what length best suits your tastes, madam?”
“This is for me?!?” Rogue goggled at the necklace and chains, too amazed to make a snap decision.
“Yes, madam, for you. The gentleman who placed the order said it was significant to your place of birth. I would recommend one of these...” he indicated two chains, both smooth, understated, delicately made but in proportion to the glowing magnolia blossom. Rogue shook herself to clear her head and selected a simple chain that wouldn’t snag on any sweaters, and had it measured to lay just below the collarbone. The man worked swiftly, and in only minutes she was looking in the mirror as the magnolia blossom gleamed against her creamy skin.
Piotr loaded the last of the sacks and locked the jeep, leaning against the fender as he checked his watch. One hour exactly. He noted Rogue coming down the sidewalk, almost dancing with energy. Her radiating joy made him smile as she approached.
Rogue stifled herself, not knowing for sure whether Logan would want people realizing that he’d bought her jewelry, so she didn’t comment or try to draw Piotr’s attention to the necklace.
“He’s not back yet?”
“No - and it’s time,” Piotr indicated his watch with a tapping finger.
“Give me the tire iron,” Rogue groaned with a dramatic sigh, “and I swear I’ll go pry him out of that bar.” Piotr was still chuckling as she stepped off the curb toward the park.
“No, Rogue - I’ll go. I know the place.”
She waved him off, “No, I want to talk to him about something. I’ll be right back.”
Rogue jogged through traffic and was well into the park in moments. Finding a footpath directly through a central grove of trees, she followed it at a brisk pace.
Downing the dregs of his beer, Logan threw a few bills on the bar, nodded to the bartender, and left O’Houley’s. Checking his watch, he took the shortcut across the park’s grove toward where the jeep was waiting. By now Marie would be wearing the necklace he’d ordered for her, and with any luck at all, it would help pick her spirits up. He hated to see her so unhappy and overwhelmed with everything that had happened in her life lately. Jewelry always made women happy, right? When in doubt, stick with the classics. And it would put enough pressure on her to take him seriously in comparison to Drake’s fickleness. If he was going to pursue a woman’s attentions, he would absolutely not play fair.
The breezy afternoon was clearing and warm, and Logan felt in abnormally high spirits. Hearing a rustling in the trees above him, he instinctively sniffed the breeze, but he was upwind. Nothing but people and trees, some birds, metallic traffic stink; nothing abnormal. Maybe something from a pond nearby, a mustiness? Moss? Dampness.
The creak of a branch and the displacement of air brought Logan’s attention up too late. With his tongue wrapped around a branch overhead, Toad swung down at speed and planted both feet squarely against Logan’s back, slamming the big feral to the ground. Grasped tightly in Toad’s hand, the vaccine injector smashed down into the thick muscles of Logan’s back, between shoulder blade and spine, and with a tremendous leap Toad was yards away, then out of sight.
Instinctively, the claws ripped out of Logan’s hands, still unaware of the hypodermic needle buried deep in his muscle or the vial projecting from his back. Accustomed to the momentary, flaming pain of the claws popping, Logan snarled in rage and pushed himself up a few inches from the ground before he realized that something was very, very wrong. There was pain over his entire body and it was only getting worse instead of going away, concentrated in his shoulder and both hands. His arms instantly grew weak. He fell back onto the ground and tremors washed over him. Gasping for breath against the pain, he looked at his hands.
His skin wasn’t healing tightly against the claw edges. It wasn’t healing at all; the cleanly sliced holes were pouring blood over his knuckles, between his fingers, dripping on the ground. His mind instantly flashed back to the moment when the claws had first come out in his escape from Stryker’s lab. He remembered the horror of the metal shooting from his hands, the raging pain, the blood that wasn’t even his pouring down his naked arms, down his ribs; other people’s blood, people that he’d cut apart on instinct.
With a groan that ended as a roar, he rolled onto his right side and pulled the claws back in, but the pain only worsened, and the shaking inside him intensified.
“Marie!”
The cry cost him his last hold on awareness, and his body convulsed as he slipped into darkness.
Landing squarely on the path, Toad caught sight of Rogue closing in his direction, and tried to leap away before he was spotted. The movement caught Rogue’s attention. A man, obviously a mutant, leaping in great bounds, with a flash of greenish skin. Toad? Had he survived Liberty Island?
Her stomach churned momentarily, and she suddenly felt cold all over.
What would Toad, if it was him, be doing here, now?
From only a few yards distance, Rogue heard Logan’s hoarse cry for her, and she broke into a hard run. Part of her brain said to be wary and not run headlong into a trap; her combat training was kicking in. But the other part of her brain was saturated with instant terror. Logan had never, ever yelled for her in that tone of voice.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Rogue gets a gift, and Logan gets a surprise.