It had been a while into the journey before Rogue found it right to speak again. There had be a solemn, but understanding silence between the pair as they left the deserted mansion under the darkness of night. It was too dangerous to go through and look for items to take with them. Food, money and other personal possessions had to be left behind. We left with our lives, thought Rogue firmly in a bid to quell her concerns, that’s all that matters. Slowly, she looked towards Logan, who had kept a stern eye on the road as he sharply continued to navigate them away from the perils of Westchester. The morning sunlight now timidly peeked from the horizon, casting a soft glow over the early morning traffic that trundled down the lengthy freeway. Travelling in traffic, Logan was more careful as he drove, but still seemed hesitant to slow down too much.
Ever so quietly, Rogue’s voice permeated the silence of the car. “Are they alive?”
“What?” came Logan’s instinctive grunt; having been paying so much attention to the road, he hadn’t been ready for her words.
“The X-Men, the students. Did Stryker kill anyone?”
Now Logan glanced towards her. “Not that I noticed. A few students got taken, the rest of the kids escaped through evacuation tunnels.”
“And the X-Men?”
Logan slowly looked back towards the road. “Tryin’ to find the captured kids.”
Frowning a little, Rogue glanced ahead out of the windscreen, just in time to see a road sign pass above her head too fast for her to comprehend. “Where are we goin’?” she asked, looking to him once more.
Rogue began to notice that Logan seemed almost agitated; his hands were gripping unnecessarily tight to the steering wheel. “I don’t know,” he muttered quickly, glancing about the road ahead. “Jus’ tryin’ to get some distance between us and the mansion, alright?” His tone was rather finalising, concluding further questions.
At this, Rogue pursed her lips a little, turning from him and trying to get herself comfortable against the side of the passenger door. “I’m gonna get some sleep. Lemme know when you wanna stop. Don’t want you drivin’ tired, ok?” Her eyes turned to peer out the bottom of the window, her cheek pressed against the soft upholstery. Gaze flickered after the cars that were left behind by Logan’s faster speeds, this repetitive observation, teamed with the low hum of the engine slowly sent her into an uneasy sleep.
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It was early evening when Rogue finally stirred, groaning as she prised her cheek from now uncomfortable upholstery. Her neck ached from such an awkward position, eyes blearily trying to work out her surroundings. She was soon aware that they were stationary, and she looked round to the driver’s seat to notice with a sickening jolt that Logan had gone. She bolted upright, staring out of the windscreen in a quickly accumulating panic. There was a quiet rap on the window besides her, and she whipped her head round to see Logan knocking on the window for her attention. Feeling her unease flood free from her clenched gut, she sighed softly as she pressed the switch to allow the electric window to smoothly wind down.
“You’re a heavy sleeper,” Logan grunted quietly when the glass partition lowered. He had bent a little to peer inside the car. “I called you three times, and shut the door loud enough.”
Rogue grinned sheepishly, sitting upward. “I was tired,” she said, lifting a hand to slowly rub her aching neck. “Where are we anyway?”
“Just on the edge of Cochrane.”
“Where?” muttered Rogue, closing her eyes as she drove her fingers into the pain in her neck.
Logan smirked a little, opening the car door, “I ain’t got time to sit and show it you on the map. C’mon, fill up the tank, will you?” Rogue glanced upward again to recognise they were in a small, run-down petrol station just outside the town, a cold bitter air leaving a faint mist around the clumps of fir trees that scattered the roadside.
“You got money for this?” she asked, striding out of the car to check the area a little more thoroughly. Regardless of the business’s aesthetics, there were a few cars filling up at various pumps.
“Always check glove compartments, Rogue,” informed Logan with a smirk, indicating a small rolls of notes in his hand. “Cyclops over-prepares.”
Rogue returned his smirk, “Well, we ain’t complain’ now, are we?”
“Course not,” Logan responded, then nodding to the pump, “Fill her to the top,” he said, before turning and striding across the petrol station to enter and pay for the usage. It was only when Rogue began to pull the petrol pump from it’s holster, she realised how cold she actually was. Her numb fingers clenched about the handle, the freezing air around her soon sapping any warmth she had remaining from her long sleep. Wearing only a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, she wasn’t best prepared for cold temperatures. Turning towards the car, she began to fill the petrol tank, grumbling under her breath as she became aware this could take a while and she was already shivering.
Glancing upward over the roof of their vehicle, she saw another car swiftly pull in with a screech of clapped-out brakes, dust plumes rising from the dirt. The car’s parking was somewhat haphazard. Rogue narrowed her eyes slowly at the driver, for she had not missed the additional grind of his rusted bumper meeting theirs in passing. She watched the driver exit the car with a suspicious wobble to his form. “You just caught the car,” she said coolly, releasing the petrol pump to begin moving to the front of the Mazda to glare at a horribly dinted scrape just besides the headlight.
The driver of the car turned slowly, taking his cigarette from his fingers to peer towards the offensive mark and then to Rogue himself. His eyes spent a lot longer on the latter before he responded. “You ain’t parked close enough to your petrol pump, ain’t my fault I got no room to pull in, is it?”
Rogue bristled at his carefree attitude, her gloved hands clenching. The Wolverine in the back of her mind had perked up to raise its hackles. “It’s your fault for not drivin’ correctly!” she snapped, Southern accent turning thick in her fury. “Lay off the beers before y’get behind the wheel o’ that heap o’ junk in future, y’got that?” She turned from him with a haughty huff, her ponytail swinging as she stomped back to the petrol pump to continue filling up the tank.
The only evidence of the man’s continued presence came when he next spoke, and was now right besides her. “You got a lotta attitude for a lil’ girl far away from home.”
“I’ll give you more than attitude if you don’t get the hell away from me right now,” Rogue growled under her breath. The Wolverine inside her head was gearing for a fight, and Rogue could feel her grip painfully tight about the handle of the petrol pump, of which was trickling the liquid down the car from the already filled tank. She wasn’t sure why she was letting this guy get to her so much, or why she was so ready to attack. Maybe after everything that had happened at the mansion, she just wanted to give someone a good beating to let out that horrible pent up anger and frustration. She heard a quiet chuckle, it was the same demeaning, disbelieving sound she had heard escape from Logan the previous night. Once more, she found her thinning patience snapping. “I said get the hell away from me!” she shouted, hands leaving the pump to arch a smooth punch right into the man’s jaw.
Shocked, he was open to the strike and stumbled backwards. Rogue dived forward, grabbing him by the neck of his clothes and jamming his back up against the passenger door.
“You really shouldn’t have pissed me off!” growled Rogue, almost enjoying that flicker of surprise creeping in his eyes, fearful of the unexpected. But then, it clouded over with anger, and in retaliation his swung his fist to hit her in the face. Her smaller frame was easily knocked back, letting out a winded gasp as she hit the metal pillar behind her. She threw her head upward, white strands splayed over her burning gaze.
Fully intending to practise some of those Danger Room sessions on him, she was abruptly halted when a large figure flew in front of her, grappling the man like he was a rag doll and tossing him several feet into the air. The man hit the ground besides his car with a weak groan. Rogue’s eyes snapped upon Logan, who was breathing heavily and looked as angry as her.
“Why did you do that?!” she then cried to him.
“I saw what he did!” replied Logan, throwing the floored man a fierce glare.
Rogue growled under her breath at the lost brawl, knocking her hair out of her face. “I got him first. I had it under control.”
But Logan had opened the car door, “Get inside,” he grunted shortly, clearly in no mood to have an argument. Rogue obliged, but slammed the door shut without his aid and was soon joined as Logan dropped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As the vehicle pulled back out onto the narrow road, the pair sat in silence, both angry and wanting to deal some real damage whilst attempting to soothe the awakening of the savage Wolverine their mind’s shared.
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