There's a light on that covers the blue
and I want to be closer to you
and she's smiling and waving goodbye,
who'd've thought that I'd ever ask why?
And she's waving goodbye with that photograph smile,
under the heavenly blue,
I'm never gonna be closer again,
I'll never know,
I'll never feel you, ever again.
And I wait sitting here by the phone,
with the hope that your heart isn't stone
and I wish that you'd call me and cry,
so I'd know how you feel deep inside.
And she's waving goodbye with that photograph smile,
under the heavenly blue,
I'm never gonna be closer again,
I'll never know,
I'll never feel you, ever again.
Heavenly voice won't you guide me,
help me I'm falling too deep.
And she's waving goodbye with that photograph smile,
I'm still in love with that photograph smile,
please don't deny me,
I've waited so long,
waited so long,
I want to feel you, feel you again.
The Goodbye
The night was abnormally warm, the air damp and suffocating. The sky was laden with twinkling stars, and it was an intense deep blue, instead of the hazy grey he'd gotten used to in the winter months that were now passing into spring. He fiddled with the rolled up cuff of the flannelette shirt he wore, for the first time wearing it without ten other shirts underneath. He watched her keenly as she loaded the jeep, a grin on her sweet features as she packed. He couldn't help but feel the awful tug at his heart as she moved with such excitement. If he were a selfish man, he'd have grabbed her and begged her to stay. But he wasn't selfish. Just old.
She dusted off her hands on her denim-clad hips that had swelled with the two years that had past. She was essentially the same girl he'd brought here, but something about her body had changed, grown settled and even more delicious. Pain filled him as he sighed.
"You okay, Logan?"
He glanced up. People had gotten used to not calling him that, and when he did the few classes that Xavier had somehow convinced him to teach, he always insisted on being referred to as 'Wolverine'. Hearing the only real name he had known shook him a little.
"Yeah," he nodded, pressing his lips together firmly, "Just thinkin'."
She tipped her head side, a cascade of mahogany hair slipping around her angelic features.
"Yeah? What about?"
He shrugged, "You leavin'. Me here, left to keep myself occupied."
Rogue rolled her eyes, "I'm sure you'll be fine, Logan. Lord knows you don't need another young girl around your feet to trip over."
He grunted and looked away.
"Anyways," she sighed, leaning back against the door of the jeep, "I have to do this."
He looked up at her and nodded. She was right. Going back to her mother, who was now separated from her father, and living with her. Going back to a semblance of the normal life she'd started. New things were in the picture for her - continuing college, working, a real family, a life. Rogue didn't have to be the Rogue anymore. She could be Marie again.
"I know," he said.
She gazed sweetly at his eyes and nodded, "I know you do."
He looked down to her gloved hand and took it, gripping it for a moment.
"It's been a ride, huh?"
She sighed, "Hell yeah."
He'd left her only a couple of months for Alkali Lake back when she arrived at the School for the Gifted, and for two long years he'd been her closest companion. Plenty of people speculated on the exact nature of their relationship but he knew the real score. She was everything to him, he'd die for her so that she could be happy and there was nothing else to it. He had died so many times as she lived by his side. He died a little when she dated Bobby, and then Remy. He died when she sobbed into his shoulder cause Remy couldn't keep his pants on. He died when she made her accidental first kill, and struggled with the after-effects.
He was dying right now, and it was a choice. A choice he made for her benefit.
All he could do was look down and squeeze her hand, pressing his bottom lip up and sniffing roughly, forcing himself not to cry. Men didn't cry.
"I'm gonna miss you," she said, her voice husky, "I don't know what I'd have done without ya."
He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes affectionately.
"Lived," he said, "Survived, and have been perfectly okay."
"Oh come on," she grinned, kicking at his shoe, "Give yerself a bit of credit, big man."
He gave a soft snort of a laugh and shrugged. He was too sad to play their games. He looked up to her, and felt himself freezing up at her gaze. It was soft, regarding, endlessly warm.
"Ya made me who I am, Logan," she said. "I was weak - you made me strong. Don't forget that."
He shook his head, "I only showed you what was already there."
"You're a stubborn son-of-a-bitch," said Rogue, "I'm gonna miss that too."
At that she pulled herself to him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He let his arms slide around her tiny frame, revelling in the soft warmth of her body, the heavenly shape and form that he'd come to adore. At first all that pervaded him was strawberries and light musk, until an unmistakable scent of tears touched him. He pulled back, looking to her eyes. They were red, glistening with the wet of tears.
"Hey - what's this?"
She sniffled, brows tilting up, "Ah'm scared Logan."
He frowned, "Of what?"
She looked down, lips red and shuddering, "Leavin' ya."
"Hey, look at me."
He grabbed a swath of the thin gauzy scarf around her neck and tilted her head up. She gave a long shaking breath.
"We've talked about this before. Your Mom wants you there, needs you there. It's been three years since you've seen her, I think it's important that you go to her."
Rogue nodded as he spoke, tears spilling down her face.
"Besides, if you can start fresh with your Mom like she wants, you might not have to get mixed up in this God-awful mess of policin' crazy mutants."
"I feel like I'm lettin' you all down."
Logan shook his head, "No, Marie, you're not. You know lots of the kids go off to try and start normal lives. It's not like your mutation can do you much good in a combat situation, and you know how awful you feel after bashing the living shit out of someone."
She pouted indignantly, "I kinda like it."
A perturbed look flickered across his rough features, "So do I but that's not the point-"
"What is your point?"
"Don't forget why you're doin' this."
She huffed through a sob, "Ah can't, cause if I do I'll never leave."
He shut his eyes abruptly, pulling her into a hug. He wasn't sure how long he kept holding her like that, just - embracing, breathing, smelling, feeling. He took the time to memorize every sense that ran through him, savouring and knowing. He patted her back roughly, stepping away.
"Come on," he said, "Better get going before it gets much darker."
She smiled through her tears and nodded. He watched her climb into the jeep, hair tumbling about her shoulders. It seemed odd, all that brown without the hallmark white. He'd been shocked to see her with one hundred percent rich brown all over, and that's when she'd told him that her mother had written her. That's when it all changed. Silently, he cursed that damned day, and the lack of her brilliant white bolt of hair. The young woman fiddled with the ignition, and glancing up to him she flashed him a final smile, one that was brave and strong and loving. He swallowed, clenching the back of his teeth.
"Thank you Logan!" she called out the rolled down window, fiddling with the gear stick, "I'll call!"
With a rough roar of the engine, the car sped off down the neat driveway, a black gloved hand waving in the air out the window. It didn't matter how happy he thought she'd be. Not to him, not at that moment. All he could think of was 'why'. Why did he have to be without her? Wounded howling primal instincts didn't accept the answers he supplied himself with.
The First Call
Logan kicked the edge of the kitchen cupboards near the floor, growling. Sinks. He hated fixing sinks. Since it was the last of the great expanse of dead time that was the summer vacation, there wasn't a lot else to do but find things that could be fixed, whether they needed to be or not. Right now he was having a hard time convincing the kitchen sink that it needed a new drain pipe. He decided that it looked a little too wet to be perfectly normal. So now he battled with it, wrench in one hand, pipe in the other.
"Stupid suvva-ughn!"
The wrench slipped from his hands and clattered to the bottom of the kitchen sink. He growled, waggling his hand. Grabbing the wrench he tried again.
"Come on," he mumbled, "It won't - ugh - hurt a bit and - ughn - then once it's all over I can grab a beer!"
The wrench flipped and clattered again, this time his hand slamming into the other side of the cupboard and knocking the skin off the knuckles against the rough unsanded wood. He swore, cradling his hand as it knitted itself back together, wriggling the fingers. Okay, obviously he'd need a stronger set of hands than his - which was a tough find.
He jumped to his feet, still cradling the hand, and strode down the hall.
"MARI-"
He stopped, a hot sickly heat rushing through him abruptly. His frame sank a little, and looking down at his hand, he sniffled roughly. It was all healed, pristine and pink. Turning, he marched back into the kitchen, grabbing the wrench. He attacked the pipe again, gritting his teeth. He studied the way the old stainless steel pipe glinted in the soft reflected light from the kitchen floor, the way the dried water from the leak left a grey ring. Such little trivialities of detail valiantly struggled with his memories of shared days when the summer vacation time got too long, of strong hands that looked too delicate would help him and of brilliant smiles that stuck to his mind like ice.
He grit his teeth, twitching a nostril, his lips pursing tight. He'd have to get over it, definitely get over it cause it was growing worse and he had to stop it. She had her new life now.
No one had heard from her except the Professor, and what he had received was a short but loving letter thanking him for his help and that things were absolutely wonderful at home. Logan refused to believe that was all of it, but he wasn't about to write her and demand that she tell him everything that was going on. He couldn't do that, not when she was reconstructing her life.
That's when his new habit started, and the hankering to perform the daily ritual began to well inside of him.
He dropped the wrench, letting it sit there inside the dusty cupboard that housed the drain-pipe, and sat up, running his fingers through his wild hair. He took long breaths and grumbled.
He would not do it. He pressed the rounds of his palms into his eyes, rubbing them vigourously, a long growl falling from him.
Jumping to his feet he stormed through to the main hallway of the mansion, eyes locked on the little redwood table that presented a strangely hi-tech phone on a little white doily. He sank to the chair next to it, legs feeling suddenly weak. Oh God, he was doing it again. He slid back into the high-backed chair, pulling a little footstool closer with his foot, gazing at an old painting on the distant wall with a familiar contempt.
He hated that fucking painting. It had a man on a horse on it, with a stupid little fluffy dog at his feet, all donned up in clothing from the late 19th Century. He'd never bothered to find out about the painting, about who was in it or why a man supposedly hunting would have such a sissy-assed dog. He just stared at it in shared anonymity. It was pointless getting pissed at a painting, but it was something to stop him thinking about the phone that was next to him and how incredibly silent it was.
There were many things about the phone that drew him to it. The most stinging and obvious was that she said she would call. Waving and smiling that damn smile she said she would call him. If she had, he most definitely wouldn't be sitting here, looking at the phone mournfully. In every other aspect of his life, he'd visibly moved on, except for a silent half hour every day where he'd just sit there and stare. It didn't matter how much he moved on though, one resounding truth engulfed him. That companionship he'd grown to depend on had been ripped out from under his feet, and he found himself struggling without it, and not just with kitchen sinks. He hated how empty his room felt now, how empty everything felt. Everyone else walked and spoke and moved so easily, their smiles bouncing off him and missing their mark. All he wanted was to know she was okay, to know she still thought about him. Not that it mattered - it shouldn't matter to him cause it was a new life she was starting, not a same-old-troubled life that she had with him. Marie deserved that.
The second fascination of the phone was that it was the one thing that would seal the distance between him and the one girl that had sent him stir crazy in all his remembered days. He tentatively laid a hand on the cool plastic, knowing he could touch her through it's wires, profess secret emotions and bring her back if he really, really, wanted to. The other thing he knew was that he never ever would.
He revelled in the fantasies his mind created at the prospect, the situations he dreamed of just so he could exist. It only occurred to him recently that perhaps he was falling for the brown-eyed honey-souled girl that left him, that deserved the happy life he knew he could never provide her with. It didn't surprise him, but he wasn't completely expecting such an affection to seize him. It was more than mere fancy though - it was raw need, and it was all for her.
He closed his eyes in a frustrated sigh, clutching the phone. He almost jumped when he felt it blast to life underneath his hand, chirruping desperately. Out of reflex he grabbed it before it managed to finish it's first ring and pulled it to his ear.
"Hello."
There was a silence, and a surprised croak of a throat, "Jesus... Logan?"
Oh God... oh God.... his heart thumped, his chest feeling suddenly tight. It could not be her, could not be... it was her.
"Not the first, definitely the latter," he grumbled, feeling embarrassment seep into him.
"Smart ass," she said, "What are you doing - sleeping on the damned phone?"
"Got nothin' better to do," he said.
Oh great, sound like the miserable prick you are, Logan, he thought to himself. There was a silence.
"Are you okay?"
"It's nearly been six months Marie," he said, "All I wanted to know was that you were fine, that you were happy and I couldn't even get that-"
"Oh calm down," she said, amusement in her voice, "You old mother hen, ya! I been busy with college an' all."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
He grunted back at her.
"Glad I could garner such a dignified response from ya."
He shifted in the chair, "Uh - Ya been happy?"
He heard her give a soft laugh.
"Yeah," she said, "Things are almost back the way they were. Without my Pa of course but I think I can do fine without him."
"Good to hear."
"So how are ya then, the kids not giving you too much trouble during the break?"
"Not the ones that are left behind, no," he said, "It's pretty much same old."
She moaned a little, "Sounds good."
He felt a wrench of his heart, and he closed his eyes. "So - got a boyfriend yet?"
She laughed, "No. Went on a few dates but nothing serious. I kinda like the company, but I'm not intent on keeping it - not with my skin."
Something within Logan kicked into control and he felt himself blurt out, "You need companionship, Marie."
"Yeah," she agreed, sounding amused, "That's what the dates are for stupid."
He let out a hot sigh through his nose, "No - I mean- Everyone needs someone who understands 'em."
Rogue was quiet for a moment. "You're right."
He pressed his lips together nervously, trying to quell the shaking that was going through him.
"Well..."
"Well what?"
"Have you got someone?"
That silence again, it killed him. When she spoke, her voice was lush, heady. "Not in Mississippi."
He slammed his eyes shut, silently berating himself. Fuck. Fuck fuck - what are you doing Logan?!
"Yeah well, find someone," he muttered, feeling the clumsy words smash through her sentiment, the heartbreak tangible even over the phone, "Your fresh start should be perfect."
"It's not perfect," she said, roughly, "It never will be."
He sighed, "Ya gotta try, Marie."
"I never stopped trying," she said. He heard her shuffle down the phone, a woman's voice in the background. When her voice came back it wasn't so rough, but it wasn't soft either, "I gotta go. Mom's taking me shopping. I -um, tell the others I called, 'n' that I'm okay."
He gave a positive grunt.
"Look after yourself Logan..."
'I miss you' was on the tip of his tongue, but all he could manage to mumble was a strangled, "Take care, Kid."
"Your turn to call next," she said, "The Professor's got my number." At that, the rude click of the phone going down smashed the intoxicating reverie that had built over the sound of her voice. So damn soft and sultry and strangely angelic. He buried his head in his hands, sighing long. This was a seriously fucked up situation.
The First Christmas
He held up the sparkling red and green tinsel, biting into his cigar and growling. The young girl below him with her disgustingly bright yellow sweater and gutter mouth was driving him insane. She pointed at the lintel madly, stomping her foot and swearing a blue-streak.
"Jesus Christ, Logan! You'd think you'd never put Christmas decorations up before!"
He grumbled. "I haven't."
Her scowl fell off her face. "Oh. Sorry."
"S'awright," he shrugged, pressing down the sticky-tape to the redwood doorway. "Where to next?"
"The main hallway," she said, picking up a box of decorations and chewing on some gum, "You really never put up Christmas decorations before?"
Climbing down the ladder and folding it up, he looked up at her and spoke through a grunt of effort. "Never."
He tilted her head as she walked through to the main hallway, a pout on her face.
"That's sad. I mean, I did for a while with my foster parents, and before that at the orphanage I did. I guess there's not much point putting up decorations in a single trailer, huh?"
He shook his head, "Kinda need the money to feed yerself."
"Right," she nodded. "You're saying in all your seventeen years-"
He eyed her and shook his head very slightly, "Never."
"Okay."
The girl grew silent and stepped away, looking around the room. "I wish Rogue could be here to see this."
He glanced at Jubilee. "Huh?"
She turned at met his glare. "To see you put up Christmas decorations silly! She'd totally get a kick out of it."
Logan looked down at the ladder in his arms and shrugged. "She's got her family again. I'm sure she's fine."
Jubilee snorted, eyes roving the walls of the hall, "Yeah, sure she's fine, doesn't mean she doesn't miss you ya big dope."
Logan propped the ladder on the floor.
"She was fine for six months without me."
Jubilee dragged her eyes down to meet his and she curled a lip with doubt.
"Sure. Like her Mom wants her calling up her old boyfriend with the six inch claws every Friday..."
Her mother. Crap - why didn't he ever think of that?! He blinked at her.
"I'm not her boyfriend!"
Jubilee snorted, looking back to the ceiling.
"Yeah, like her Mom knows that. I say the gold stars over every wood panel like before - and I swear to God if you don't put them in the absolute CENTRE this time I'm going to zap your ass so it's glowin' every colour of the rainbow - ya got that?!"
Logan sighed. "Yes sir."
Logan had gazed at the futuristic phone a long time after Jubilee left to construct the tree with the younger students. Digging in his leather jacket, he pulled out the number scribbled down in the Professor's swashy hand. He frowned at it. Looking to the phone he lifted the reciever, and saw the sign next to it that always seemed to annoy him.
'TO DIAL OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL, PRESS '0' THEN THE NUMBER.'
It never worked, no matter how many times he pressed zero, he always managed to accidentally dial up the mechanics department or Xavier himself. Once the Professor happened to be there. The discussion was short but sweet and was as follows:
"Hey - Karl's Boot Repair?"
After a quiet moment, "Er, no actually - Charles Xavier... Logan is that you?"
"Shit!"
"Quite..."
"Sorry - stupid phone..."
"It's all right. Press zero first."
"I did!"
"Try again."
"Okay... sorry again."
"That's fine Logan."
Logan slammed the phone down, and had died of complete humiliation. That was not going to happen again. Turning the phone around, he lifted the handset, the buttons inside of it, and carefully, so very carefully, pressed in the number. Miraculously, he thought it might have worked. The phone purred quietly till the calling stopped abruptly.
"Hello?"
"Hi," Logan winced - it was a deeper voice, with a similar honey accent, and he did his damnedest not to sound too rough, "Is Marie there?"
"She is," said the woman, "May I ask who's calling?"
"Uh - Logan," he said, his stomach churning. Shit - since when did he have to feel like a fifteen year old boy calling his first crush?! "I'm a friend from New York."
There was a stern silence for a moment, and then, "Just wait a moment."
He could hear the rough noise of a hand muffling the receiver, and a voice ringing out. Ugh - shrill. Marie obviously didn't take after her mother too closely. He then heard the thumping of footsteps, and the distinctive sound of that lower female voice growing dour. There was another ruffle as the phone was handed over and his heart practically leapt out of his chest when her voice travelled over the phone.
"Hey."
"Hi."
She gasped, "Logan! God I thought you'd never call!"
He was sent off kilter by the glee in her tones. Shouldn't she be incredibly mad at him?
"Well... I have."
"Ah know," she said, a grin in her voice, "It's nearly Christmas."
"Gee, really?" he droned sardonically, "You mean there's a reason why Jubilee is being the Fuhrer of the Tinsel?"
Rogue giggled, "Oh man... you poor thing! Don't tell me she talked you into helping her? You flatly refused me the last three times!"
He grunted as he shrugged, "I dunno. Nothin' else better to do."
"Ah swear, there is like four standard responses that come outta your mouth Logan, an' that's one of 'em!"
He was silent a moment, twisting his lips nervously. "Your Mom doesn't like me, does she?"
The girl down the phone gave an incredulous giggle. "Where did that come from?"
"Just..." He stopped, thinking hard on his words, "I was talking to Jubilee, and she thought maybe the reason why you took so long to call me an' stuff is-"
"Ohh," she sighed, "Oh no, Logan. My Momma don't even know ya, ya know? She just - she doesn't want me too involved in the school, not until I've settled down. Guess she wants to make sure I don't leave her again."
"We miss you," he blurted, wincing a little, "It's like something's missing around here."
She got quiet then, real quiet, and he could hear her breathing over the phone.
"I know," she said finally, "I feel it too."
"I'm glad though," he said, "That you're there giving things a shot. People like me - we're here cause we got no family. It's good that you're goin' back to yours."
She sighed. "Yeah."
"So - how's life?"
"Good," she said, "Uh... passed my classes in college."
"That's great."
"And uh... Well you know how I was datin'?"
Every hair on the back of his neck prickled, his stomach twisted. Okay calm down, Logan, calm down.
"Yeah sure."
"And um - you said that - that we all should have companionship?"
"Yeah."
"Well - I kinda - I found someone."
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Only the crunch of his claws into the side of Xavier's nice phone chair. He cleared his throat and rummaged for the little scrape of civility he had buried deep within him.
"That's great."
"Yeah?"
Damn - she sounded so uncertain. Clenching his teeth he managed a strangled, "Yeah."
"Good," she said, relief washing through her tones, "I was really worried you'd get shitty with me."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Oh, ya just do when I hook up with someone," she said, "You being your protective doofus self I suppose."
Great. She thought he was a protective doofus. "What's his name?"
"Stephen," she said, "Ah met him at college and um - he knows."
He tried to ignore how soft her voice was as she spoke the unfamiliar name, and something in him grew wary, and a little betrayed. It wasn't supposed to work like that - no one was supposed to get past the mutation, it was their shared fault, their sanctuary. And now some dick was in on it.
"Is he okay with that?"
"Of course," she said, "He wouldn't be my boyfriend if he wasn't."
"Your boyfriend?" he croaked.
She laughed then, and the sound ripped at him, "Duh."
He clenched his teeth, squinting his eyes shut and scrabbling at self control. "How'd ya meet him?"
It was a terrible drug, this growing thing inside of him that wasn't happy unless it heard Marie's voice or saw her or smelt her around him. Now it compelled him to know exactly why she sought solace in the arms of another, and exactly HOW it happened. All logic forced him to push her away, and all the time he wondered when the hell he started listening to logic.
Her - she did it. He never wanted to put a step wrong with her, never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to risk her to his own callous animal self. He realised she was talking to him, nattering away with a dreamy tone to her voice. It was almost like old times.
"And so - okay this is so embarrassing - the can of drink totally explodes in my hands right? Anyway so after that we kinda got talking and he was so shy - I had to ask him out can you believe it? Anyway we been datin' two months now."
"That's great," he croaked.
"Ah know," she said, "I jus' can' believe it ya know?"
"I can," he said, "You're beautiful, Marie. And special - don't you ever forget that."
He heard her laugh softly over the phone, the sound a rough rush against the receiver, warm and affectionate. All she could manage was a bashful:
"Hmm, Logan."
It was a sound that sent him soaring. He sighed. "It's the truth."
"Yeah-well," There was another laugh.
And for the first time he could remember, the silence between them was filled with a tension, not quite discomfort, but not quite the settled utopia that they'd had before. It set him on fire. He pursed his lips, scrabbling for anything to talk about.
"So... what have ya got planned for Christmas?"
"The usual family thing," she said, "With the turkeys and the presents and the bad television specials."
He grunted an affirmative.
"Stephen will probably wanna take me out to dinner a couplah days before."
Before he even realised it, the chair got it again, his knuckles pressed into the woven upholstery and cracking against the wood.
"What the hell is that?" Rogue said, "I keep hearing that weird breakin' noise."
"Not breaking," Logan muttered suddenly, "Fixing noise."
"Fixing noise?"
Her voice was laced with incredulity.
"Yeah, they're fixin' the footstool in front of the phone chair."
"Oh. Anyway, he promised to take me somewhere really nice."
*Crunch*
"Aand - um - anyway, that's what I'm doin' for Christmas...er... how about you?"
"Avoiding mistletoe," he grumbled.
"Jesus, you are such a fuckin' Scrooge," she laughed.
"You give me a reason to enjoy Christmas, and I'll stand under the damned mistletoe, with a stupid Santa hat."
"If I were there, Sugah, I certainly would."
Logan choked again, shifting in his chair and tugging at the denim around his crotch. Damn - were those things riding up again?
"Well, I better get going..."
"Oh," he frowned, fiddling with the phone, "Um - you want me to ring again-"
"Naah," she said, "I'll call you."
He nodded, "Okay."
"Merry Christmas Logan."
"Merry Christmas, Marie."
All too soon the phone clicked, shutting off the line, and that awful ache welled up inside of him once more. He watched the phone for a full moment, then down at his hand still wedged in the side of the chair. With a low growl, he wrenched it out, and lumbered down the hall towards the workshop and its bounty of tools.
The Date
She looked in the mirror, sighing at the face that looked back at her. She curled a lip, poking at her skin, fiddling with her hair. She wasn't satisfied, and didn't have the time to restyle it. With a tilt of her head and a purse of her lips she sighed.
Every time she tried to think of herself as ugly, Logan's voice would rumble back to her. She rolled her eyes and packed her makeup away, grabbing her sheer over-shirt. Her mother's voice called up at her from the front door and she rolled her lips nervously. She didn't know why she felt nervous around Stephen. They'd been going out almost every weekend since she asked him out, she figured they'd be close enough to get past that by now.
You felt completely at ease with Logan five minutes into that car-ride with him sister...
She closed her eyes and sighed. No - this wasn't going to happen, not anymore. No more comparing her dates to Logan. Firstly, it wasn't fair. There were few men in the world that had either the physique or the charm and magnetism that could match Logan's. Secondly, it shouldn't matter. Whoever she would end up with would be different. She wasn't going to let herself be drawn in by Logan's simple hankerings.
And that was the other thing - she knew he was missing her. It was not a kind of missing that she thought deserved her not dating, though. Hot damn it sent her crazy. The way he spoke over the phone was always so gentle and inquisitive. It kind of reminded her of their little talks they'd have, just the two of them, but somehow their distance inspired even more intimacy.
"Fer Gawds sakes, Marie - you gonna get down there to see Stephen or not?!"
Rogue sighed, grabbing her purse and running to the door. Good one, be late cause of Logan fantasizing!! Running to the door the six-foot lunk of a man haunted her mind, even when she met the reasonably tall slender sandy-haired young man at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hey Steve," she smiled, sharing a cautious hug with with him. He pulled her back to arms length and sighed.
"You look amazing," he said reverently, dark brown eyes twinkling. "Your daughter is gorgeous, Mrs. Gordon."
Marie's mother rolled her eyes, "Like she doesn't know."
Rogue blushed, "Ma..."
"You look after yerself," she said, lifting a gloved hand to her daughters face and cupping her chin. "Be back before it gets too late so I can lock up the house."
"Yes Ma," she said, hugging her mother with a little less caution than she did with Stephen. She didn't need to - her mother had as much long hair as she did, and covered herself up so Marie could be comfortable around the home. Stephen slung his arm through Marie's safely as she was dressed in a long dress, sleeveless, with a gauzy overshirt with ruffled cuffs. Marie smiled to her mother. "Love you."
Mrs. Gordon smiled. "You too, sweetheart."
Rogue let Stephen lead her from the front door, to the car. Stephen opened the door for her, smiling softly with round lips.
"You really do look great, I think you should hear it all the time."
Rogue blushed again, feeling a bit thick with the heat of embarrassment. She often felt uneasy with such open compliments.
"Thanks."
"It's okay," he said, sitting in the driver's seat whilst Rogue settled down. "I've been looking forward to tonight."
Oh dear, that sounds ominous, she thought. She smiled brightly.
"Me too."
"Great."
Grinning, he started the car, and the radio blasted to life. He jumped, grabbing at the knob as the deep male voice of a newsreader rung out.
"Crapola," he sighed, "Sorry about that - I was listening to Barenaked Ladies real loud before."
Rogue gave a wary smile.
"Oh I remember," he said, "You're into that Jeff Buckley guy right?"
"Yeah," Rogue nodded. "Guess I'm jus' picky."
"Sure," he said, "But that's what good taste is all about right?"
Rogue shrugged, "I s'pose."
Stephen nodded, watching the traffic. Rogue sighed inwardly. God-damn. In such close proximity to a Logan phonecall (it had been barely a week), Stephen seemed suddenly different. The whole time she had known him she'd revelled in how different he was to most of the guys she'd known at the School for the Gifted. They were either hero-wannabe's, mavericks, or bad-asses. But bad-asses did not good husbands make. Not that she was looking to get married. Damn why was she even thinking about that shit. She glanced to Stephen.
He was banging his head goofily to something on the radio. Catching her eye he grinned.
Oh God.
The restaurant was italian, as nice as one could find in Mississippi. "The Olive Garden" was displayed prominently in green and cursive writing. They waited at the front area, Rogue sighing and looking at the cliched italian decor of wicker-wrapped wine bottles, fake olives and grapes plastered to the ceiling and low-lit eating areas. Ferns were scattered through-out the place. Through this, one thought fluttered through her mind.
Logan wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this.
"Table for two?"
"Yes, thank you."
Rogue watched as Stephen talked to the primly-dressed waitress, and at that moment a strong whiff of cologne rushed past her. God, if Logan were here he'd pass out at that stink.
Shit, she sighed, Gotta stop thinking of Logan! After another breath she realised the awfully sweet cologne was coming from Stephen. She squinted, wondering where all her positivity and enthusiasm with this man went. Probably went when his after-shave made me high.
She followed automatically as they were taken to a table, fingering her gloves nervously. They were taken to a small booth for two, where the waitress dropped off their menus. As they settled, he looked to her.
"Are you too warm in that covering?"
Rogue eyed him, "Even if I were, I couldn't take it off."
"Oh..." His eyes fell to the menu, "Sorry."
"It's okay," she said.
Dickhead. They've been dating for two months on and off and he doesn't even remember that she wears what she does cause she HAS to?! She shoved the moment away and looked to the menu. After staying in New York, at Xavier's Mansion, and having the repeated opportunity of dining in some of New York's finer restaurants, well... this place was painful. She sighed, closing the menu.
"Chosen already?" he said.
Rogue nodded, "I have my favourites."
"Great," Stephen smiled. "You know how I was mentioning getting a place in my father's firm, I could be travelling a lot after I graduate next year."
Rogue frowned, pulling at a breadstick and rolling it in her fingers. "After only three years of law, wouldn't ya only be like - an intern or sommin'?"
"Something like that," Stephen said, "But I wanted to take a break before I launch into the heavy law studies. Possibly see some of America before I'm committed to the books for another six to ten years."
Rogue gave an uncertain smile, "I've seen a lot of America. You're not missin' out on much."
"So you tell me," he said, smiling brightly to the waitress as she walked over, "I'm sure it'd be better from the inside of less seedier hotel rooms and alley-ways."
Rogue sighed.
"Can I take your orders?"
"Sure," said Stephen, "I'll have the fettucine with the grilled chicken and the Lambrusco, thank you."
"Thank you, and you Ma'am?"
Rogue looked up, rising a brow, "Uh... Caesar salad with the grilled chicken, and just Coke for me thanks."
The waitress scribbled away at her pad, eyeing the awfully polite Stephen on and off. Rogue just pulled the end of the bread stick to her mouth and gave a forlorn nibble. Damn, she was missing New York right now.
"So, what are you thinking about doing after college? I forget."
Rogue frowned. "I told you - I wanna be a teacher."
"Oh yeah," Stephen nodded, grabbing a bread-stick and snapping it in half, "For kids right?"
Rogue nodded. "I like kids."
"Very few people who do," he said, "We need as many as we can get in this world."
A very distinct section of her mind inhabited with Logan essence mumbled 'Yeah like we need more lawyers.'
She snickered, taking a good bite of the breadstick.
"Something funny?"
Rogue looked up sweetly and shook her head, "Just a personal joke."
"Right," nodded the young man. He gave a theatrical sigh. "I can't explain how happy I am to be seeing you tonight, Marie. Ever since I met you I've just felt this - I dunno -" He laughed bashfully, "A kind of - boost in my confidence I've never felt before."
She tilted her head, eyeing the end of the breadstick. "Glad one of us is," she mumbled.
"What?"
"Nothin'," she smiled. "Keep going."
"Anyway, even though you're well - different - and all, I'm really proud that you're trying to fit into society, and I wanna help you out."
Rogue blinked, her voice dropping flat. "What?"
"Well you know," he said, tilting his head, "Some of your people seem to be intent on causing trouble, and using their powers in front of people, I mean -it's sick. And the X-Men, the Brotherhood - they're all the same!"
"You've got to be kidding me..."
Stephen shook his head, looking at her sideways, "Nooo. I'm not. I really want to help you. See, they've set up this registration program with the government and they actually work to cure mutants of their affliction-"
"AH cahn' believe you!!" Rogue's jaw dropped, her eyes flashing with too much anger to well with tears. "You think Ah have an AFFLICTION?!"
"What? Oh come on Marie-"
"Rogue!"
He frowned with incomprehension, "What?"
"Rogue!" she hissed, "Mah name is ROGUE! And I'm an X-MEN!"
"Shh!" he hissed, pulling her down, "Calm down - M- R- Calm down!"
"I will not!" she hissed, "You racist bastard!"
He clamped his eyes shut and then glared at her, "I thought you were better than this Marie - I thought you wanted to fit in!"
"Ah wanted to live with my family!" she cried, pulling herself away, "An' have a normal lahfe! A normal guy and a normal car and a normal career!"
"You can have all those things," he said, arms beckoning her, "Let me help you!"
She glanced around. People were staring at her, the waitress from before looking at her with a sharp glint in her eyes.
"It's not your place to help me!" she said, "It's your place to accept me you red-necked JERK!"
Stephen's face was growing red, "Marie-"
"AH SAID MAH NAME IS ROGUE!"
He winced, "Oh please. X-Men are fantasy! If every mutant that claimed they were an X-Men really WAS an X-Men the place would be housing half the fucking population!"
She grabbed his head suddenly, pulling him to her cleavage and she pulled out a silvery x-pendant, one close to Storm's that was given to her before she left.
"Ya see that ya shit-eatin' hog?"
He nodded frantically, the strength at his head overwhelming.
"That's mah necklace, given to me when I attended a private l'il school. Ah could go back there any day and take mah place as an X-Men, to protect the hide of yellow-bellied shits like you!"
Stephen grit his teeth, glaring up at her. "Then why...ngn... don't you?!"
She let go of him, pushing him back into his seat. Tears now rimmed her eyes, and she shook her head.
"Ah wanted to live with my Momma."
She grabbed her purse and raced from the booth.
"Go on!" he shouted, "RUN! YOU'RE JUST AS MUCH A COWARD AS THE REST OF THEM!!"
She stopped. She wanted to keep running, to hide from the suddenly alienating and unwelcome glares, but that strong haggard scruffy part of Logan that was ingrained in her soul glued her feet to the floor, and she turned about very slowly, her eyes narrowed and sharp.
"What the HELL did you just say to me?"
He was visibly shaking, and he eyed her, "You heard me. You hide and you segregate yourselves. You don't even want to battle your own mutations!"
She stormed forward, fist flying, "BATTLE THIS!"
The crack of her closed fist hammering into the man's jaw and shattering it echoed through-out the restaurant. That's when she heard the deep cough of the manager behind her.
"Madam," said a tubby blonde man with a balding head, "I think you should leave this establishment, before I have to call the police."
Pulling her purse over her shoulder, she gave an off kilter smile. "That's okay, Sugah. You wouldn't know what real italian food was if a migrant off the boat came up to ya and bit you on your gigantic white ass."
With that, she wove around him and left the restaurant.
When she got home, all the anger and rage came out in one word as her mother met her at the door.
"FUCK!"
Marjorie Gordon blinked. "Baby - what happened?!"
Rogue blubbered the long harrowing chain of events, ripping off her nice clothes, yanking off her gloves. Marjorie sighed, pulling her daughter down to the couch and running her hands over the girl's hair, kissing it down.
"Come on, baby," she crooned, "That's no way to talk now."
"It's not fair," she sobbed, "All I wanna do is have a normal life dammit! And I feel like everything I do to achieve that is just for nothin'! Cause there are people like STEPHEN there to totally fuck things around!"
Her mother sighed again, leaning against her, "I love havin' you back sweety, you know that. And I do want you to give a normal life a shot, ya know?"
Rogue nodded.
"But - sometimes God throws us an awful curveball. And sometimes... ya can't treat a curveball like a normal pitch baby. Ya gotta do somethin' different."
A dark feeling settled in Rogue as she looked at the sad face of her mother.
"Momma.... what're you sayin'?"
Her mother blinked slowly, "Ya know what I'm sayin' sweety."
Tears spilled down Rogue's tear-stained features. "Ya - ya want me to go back to the Mansion?"
Her mother sighed, playing with a lock of her daughter's hair. "Only if you want to, and only to protect you from jerks like Stephen."
Rogue shook her head, "Damn it. I thought he was nice Momma. He was so sweet ta me and - when he found out he didn't even seem ta care, ya know?"
"I know, sweety."
"I never knew," she breathed, eyes gazing at the carpet, "I never knew he was like this."
"Well aren't you glad you found out now? Instead a' later?"
Rogue nodded thoroughly, then eyed her mother. "Momma..."
"Yes baby?"
She swallowed with some uncertainty, "I - I kinda did a stupid thing."
"Wassat?"
"I announced in the middle of the Olive Garden that I was an X-Men."
Marjorie's jaw dropped. "You did what?!"
"Ah know!" Rogue hissed a sighed, "Ah know it was stupid - I was just so angry! And I was proud dammit-"
"Ah know ye'd be proud," her mother replied, "Gosh darn it, Marie! What kind of damned X-Men lives with her old Ma in Meridian on student benefits?!"
Rogue tilted her head, her arm still around her Mom. "An X-Men who loves her Momma very much."
"Honey, I think it's time you went back home - to your new home. You have a gift, and I'm not just talkin' about your powers baby. I'm talking your courage. Don't waste that in Meridian."
The words echoed in Rogue's heart, and she met the very similar eyes of her mother, tears blurring her vision. "Momma..."
"You think about it," the older woman said, "Take your time."
Rogue nodded, blinking out her tears. "Momma?"
"Mmm?"
"Can I ring Logan?"
Her mother sighed long, a small smile on her face, "Sure thing, sugah."
The Last Call
Jubilee was chewing a fresh stick of gum, reading the next trashy volume of a romance series she'd somehow gotten into whilst perusing the shelves of Xavier's vast library. She didn't even know he'd stock crap like this. The great hero Horatio Flink was serenading the heroine, sassy and bold daughter to Governor Worscesterton, Arabella. He'd fucked her around apparently. The infuriating thing was Arabella was barely sassy and not at all bold. She was a whiner, she never threw a punch and she had as much brains as a tv-dinner on reheat.
She was waiting for the repairman to arrive and fix the chair she was presently sitting on. Re-upholstery was a bitch of a job.
The X-Phone, as she jokingly called it, had a bad habit of scaring the shit out of people. She assumed that's why Logan ripped the crap out of the chair. That's what she would do anyway.
"BRRRRTT!"
"JESUS!"
Jubilee sprang out of the chair, clutching her hand over her chest and breathing swiftly. Grabbing the phone she growled.
"You've called the Freakhouse and you're talkin' to the matron!"
"Jubie!"
Jubilee blinked, "Rogue?! Oh my GOD! It's so good to hear you!"
"I know!" sighed Rogue, "Are you doing okay?"
"Yeah, I'm doing fine! How's college?"
Rogue stopped, her voice suddenly husky. "It's - it's okay. Babe, I really really need to talk to Logan."
She laughed sadly.
"Sorry chica," she said, "Logan has left the building."
"What?"
"He cleared out about six days ago. After - after your last call."
There was a silence down the phone.
"Okay... did he say if he was coming back?"
"He just left, man. Didn't say shit to anyone."
"Oh..."
"A few of his things are still here. Stuff that the Professor let him buy or that he couldn't carry..."
"Right."
"I'm sorry-"
"It's okay," Rogue said, voice quiet, "Jubilee - do you think the Professor would let me come back?"
The silence down the phone turned joyous as Jubilee gasped.
"Sure as shit on rice!"
"Okay - you tell 'im I'm catchin' the next train to New York."
"Will do baby! It's gonna be so cool having you back! We missed ya so much!"
"I missed you too, Jubes."
Jubilee slammed down the phone and ran to find the Professor. Fuck the repair-man, there was major-ass celebrations to be had.
The Visit
He'd ridden almost non-stop from Westchester to Meridian, stopping only to eat and relieve himself. He had a knack for going without sleep for days before really needing it, a bad habit learnt from his trucking days. He was crazy, he knew it. Fucking insane. He'd left as soon as Rogue had put the phone down, something within him pushing him. He knew he was interfering, and were he a more honourable man he'd leave her the hell alone and not fuck with her life.
In many ways, he could have been considered less than honourable. After a two-day stop about halfway, most of that catch-up sleep, he kept belting his way down to Meridian on the X-Motorcycle. He snorted. Anything really cool or nifty that came from that mansion or was commissioned or paid for by Xavier tended to have an 'X' stuck in front of it. Sometimes it amused Logan, most of the time it annoyed the hell out of him. He felt like some wanky comic-book hero or something.
He finally found the attractive house with a definite southern charm like something from Gone With the Wind but about a quarter of the size. The roof was neatly tiled and the garden was enclosed with a hedgerow of roses. The smell invaded his system, the simple innocence of the place echoing the face of the girl he'd come to talk to. He paced across the brick-paved front porch, hissing to himself a million curses. Oh well, he thought, came all this way. May as well bite the ol' bullet.
He rapped his knuckles on the door, and as the sound resonated through the well-laquered red-wood his stomach churned, and he felt like that fifteen year old boy again.
The door creaked open, a neatly dressed woman opening the door with green eyes as haunting as her daughter's.
"Hello... may I help you?"
He swallowed, shuffling on the doorstep. "I um... I'm Logan."
The eyes narrowed, peering at him, and she nodded.
"Yeah - you sound like him allright."
He closed his eyes suddenly, ready to suffer her disapproval.
"I don't wanna do anything but talk to her, Ma'am."
She looked him up and down and smiled. "I didn't expect anything other than that from the man that saved my daughter's life."
Logan's eyes flew up to meet hers and he cocked a brow in incomprehension.
"Huh?"
The woman shrugged. "Marie tells me everythin', Sugah. We were's close as two peas in a pod till her Father went stark-raving anti-mutant on us."
Somehow, he was disappointed. Okay... her mother wasn't at all protective of her daughter in regards to him. What, did Marie tell her he was like a 'brother' to her or something? His heart thumped with a sickly uncertainty.
"I see. Is she here?"
The friendly look in the other woman's face turned sad.
"No. She went back home."
He frowned, "Home?"
She nodded, "Xavier's Mansion, sweety."
Horror flickered across his face, "She left?"
He silently cursed himself for being so repetitive.
"That's right. About an hour ago - she's probably still at the station."
He tilted his head and gripped the knap-sack over his shoulder, "Do you mind if I run off and find her?"
Her mother smiled, "Go on. I'd prefer it if she had herself some company back to the mansion anyways."
Logan smiled as nicely as he possibly could. It was a scary sight. "Thank you."
At that he spun about and took a flying leap onto the motorcycle, kicking it into action and rocketing off down the road. Marjorie Gordon smirked, shook her head and closed the front door.
"Men - I dunno."
He only stopped once for directions, cause he knew if he didn't he'd be wandering around like a dick for hours on end trying to find his way to the damned Amtrak bus terminal. He parked the motorcycle haphazardly and leapt off, nearly nutting himself on the handlebars in the process. His heart leapt and bound in his chest and he battled himself to not go running in there like a labrador on heat. He could smell her now, faintly against the whiff of bus exhaust and cheap kiosk food. Only the steady thump of his boots accompanied him as he hefted his knap-sack close to him and sought out Rogue amongst the numbers of people waiting for their ticket out of Meridian.
That's when he saw it. That flash of platinum against mahogany brown, the angelic point of her nose that swept down to soft luscious lips and a chin he wanted to nibble on forever. He clamped his eyes shut. For God's sake Logan, get a grip on yourself, he scolded himself. He slowly realised that she'd changed her hair when she left... and now she was going back and it was as striking as she was.
He stepped forward, silent, just watching her as she gazed down the road, eyes distant and sad, two things dangling around her neck; his tags, and the necklace bearing the school's 'x' that was given to her before she left. She was also wrapped up a little more than usual, a large duffle coat around her and her usual gloves, her throat wrapped in a thick woollen scarf. She must have been boiling in that thing... why was she so covered? She could have been in an eskimo suit, it wouldn't have mattered. She was still the most satisfying sight he'd seen in an incredibly long time.
As if she felt the intense eyes boring into her, she turned her head slightly, with a little uncertainty, and her eyes double glanced to Logan in mild interest. Then they flashed back, glistening.
He was barely three yards away, drinking in the sight of her, and she took a ragged breath in.
"L-Logan?"
He didn't smile, didn't wave. Just narrowed his eyes tenderly and gazed at her.
"Hey."
She glanced down, taking in anxious breaths, her hands fiddling. Without any other hesitation she jumped to her feet, racing over and wrapping her arms around him tightly, burying her face into his shirts and sobbing throatily. She didn't say any words, didn't tell him everything that happened. She just clung onto him tightly, breathing in every facet to his smoky spicy scent, wallowing in that ragged warmth that was pure Logan, that no other person had but him. She could feel the tickle of his side-burns at her scalp as he pressed his face down to her hair, the firm press of his lips locked to her, as if to make sure she didn't go anywhere.
It was heaven. Pure, unequalled, unrivalled heaven. There was no equal, was no parallel, and he thought he may never feel anything as beautiful as he felt right now, holding her again after such long lasting agony. She had the smell of home all over her, the one that reminded him of that innocent smell that was so out of place in Laughlin City, less dirty however, less of her and more of her mother. She pulled her head back and looked up at him, a bright smile splashing her features.
His heart staggered as the smile hit him, and he swore he felt every bone in his body melt. He brought his own hand up, clad in a soft riding glove from his trip on the motorcycle, letting the back of his fingers skim gently over the gentle curve of her cheek. Her eyes fell shut, and she leaned into the caress, a tear rolling down her face.
"Ah missed you," she said, her voice but a husky breath.
He pulled her into a hug again, kissing her hair again, breathing her in, "You too, Marie."
She snuffled and looked to him, "Dammit - what are you doin' here?"
He leant back, still holding her tightly.
"I - I thought you were gonna stay here. I figured..." He coughed, growing a little red in the cheeks, "I figured if you were gonna stay here for the rest of your life an' stuff, I'd - I'd be totally selfish and ruin it."
She frowned, "Huh?"
"I couldn't - live with myself, without ya, knowing I never told ya that..."
He paused, eyes fluttering shut. He opened his eyes again, looking to Rogue. Her cheeks were flushed now.
"Logan..."
"You had that other guy ya see," he said, tilting his head a little, looking away sheepishly, "I didn't want to stress you by complicatin' things and - you were goin' for the new life thing and you couldn't really have that with me an-"
Rogue's brows tilted up as she huffed helplessly, "Will ya stop rambling and tell me what the hell it was you wanted to say?"
She emphasised with a squeeze.
"I guess I'm being egotistical even thinking I could complicate things at all-"
"Logan!"
His eyes fluttered back to hers and he sighed, the hard unforgiving part of himself collapsing under her hot brown gaze.
"I'm in love with you, Marie."
Her jaw dropped. He could see her face drain, and she stepped back, stumbling to her chair and falling onto her things.
"Marie..."
She glared up at him, "When the hell did that happen?"
He frowned guiltily, kicking at the platform. "Um..."
"Before I left? After?"
He glanced up at her, "I don't know. I can't just start and stop like a toy train or nothin'."
She sighed, covering her face in her hands, "You let me go and you didn't even TELL me?!"
"I'm not good for you, Marie-"
Rogue let out a strangled vocal gasp, "Isn't that MY place to decide?"
Logan closed his eyes, her anger crashing into him. "I was only thinking about your future-"
"Oh fer Gawd's sakes!" she hissed, "That's exactly what Stephen was blathering on about before he started talkin' all patronizin' to me like some fuckin' mental patient."
Logan's eyes flicked open and he glared at her, "He did what?"
"Ya heard!" she said, jutting her jaw forward, "I'm sick a' people decidin' what's best for me! If it's not cause I'm a mutant then it's cause I'm a woman!"
"Back up the horsey there a minute," Logan rumbled, hand up and claws twitching underneath his skin, "That frat fag did WHAT to you?"
Rogue rolled her eyes, "He said he wanted to help rid me of my 'affliction'."
The sharp wet sound of claws bursting through flesh echoed off the walls of the bus terminal, and Rogue shook her head.
"Ah dealt with it," she said in her drawl, "I'm not helpless!"
He cocked a brow with a wide eye, "What did you do?"
She smirked sadly, "I broke his jaw in five places and tied his muffler in a bow. He'll be stuck at home drinkin' through a straw for months."
A forlorn silence fell between them, Logan gazing at her helplessly as she looked away, her brows tilted down and her forehead dented in a smoulder. He just wanted to hold her and beg her not to be angry any more. All he wanted to do was do right by her and now she was scolding him and growing distant. As his anger subsided the claws slid away.
"Marie..."
She kept staring off in the distance. He strode over, kneeling in front of her and bringing her gaze down to his.
"Listen to me."
She closed her eyes, tears spilling down her face.
"The only person I was looking down on in any way, is me, baby. You got that?"
At the term of endearment she squinted a little, a soft sob falling from her.
"I didn't want to get in the way of things for you. You're right, you do have a right to decide what's right for ya. I had every faith that you'd get a great new life happenin' and I wanted to help ya by keepin' out of the way."
She put her face in her hands, wiping at her tears. He pulled the hands away again, battling to keep eye contact with her.
"I know you're not helpless, and I know you can deal with anything you need ta. I just - I lo-"
She sighed, mouth twisting at the word that nearly fell from his mouth.
"Hey - I loved you so much I just - I didn't want you getting mixed up with the shit we're in at the Mansion. Not when you had your family an' college."
She swallowed down a sob, shaking her head slowly, "Then why are you here? If you care about that shit so much why are you here now?!"
"Cause I," He sighed again, "I was dyin' inside. I just - I couldn't keep existin' without at least tellin' you."
Rogue closed her eyes, his hands still at her face, tears spilling over her features. Logan was scared. So scared. He'd been scared the moment he walked in here but now... now he could lose her, and the tears that fell down her face prickled hot shards of pain in his own eyes.
"I'm sorry, Marie," he whispered, watching her sob softly, "I'm-"
She shook her head, wiping at her tears.
"Please," he breathed, begging, "Don't - don't-"
She turned away, digging in her bag, and he watched with some confusion as she pulled out a thin silk scarf.
"What're you-"
Before he could say much else she dropped the scarf over his face and slid down to him, straddling his lap, pressing her lips to his. He fell back onto his bottom, hands sliding up the length of her lithe form under her heavy jacket, another sliding out to cradle her head as the wet of their lips sank through the thin fabric. All fear, all control, all restraint, snapped and tumbled away as the young woman crushed herself against him, her tongue slipping over the fabric against him. He felt her moan softly, a breathy light sound.
"B-mm Jesus - look..."
"Mmm?"
"Marie..."
She gave a sultry gasp around his mouth and giggled, "Mmm?"
"We're in public."
She grinned at him, letting her hair fall down and protect him as she laid her forehead against his. "Ah know."
He sighed, his breath shaking from his wildly beating heart, running his fingertips down her face. "Let's get you home."
She swung her head back, hair tumbling away, rose lips pulling up in a smile.
"Are we takin' the bike?"
"You got a helmet?"
Rogue's smile grew tilted, "I can get one."
Logan gazed at her, an amused smoulder in his eyes. "Then let's go."
The Christmas Tree
Logan sat at the end of the bed, watching Rogue upend the sizeable brown cardboard box. He sighed as tinsel and bells and green plastic fronds tumbled out onto the floor, and he cocked a brow at her.
"Remind me why we're doing this?"
Rogue looked up at him and smiled, "Cause everywhere else is decorated and I wanted to decorate something with you - a first."
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he knelt down with her, helping her sort the plastic branches of the Christmas tree.
"You know most people have real trees for this sort of thing."
"Yeah-well," she frowned, "It was in a cheapo shop and it reminded me of the one my Momma used to have."
"Used to? What happened to it?"
As she stuck the plastic branches into the fake base, an intoxicating smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"She left it in front of the heater one night," She spared him a cheeky glance, "It melted."
Logan laughed and it was an easy, light-hearted sound, one he couldn't remember producing ever. It was such a long time since he'd heard the sound from him that for a moment he thought it someone else. But the jocularity was his, the glow of amusement and affection. Rogue noticed, and she look in her eyes treasured the moment.
"When you laugh," she said softly, "You're beautiful."
He keeled back and sat on his bottom, leaning to her. "And when I'm pissed off I'm as ugly as a bear, right?"
She giggled, "No. You're never ugly. When you're pissed off..." She looked to him and gave a challenging grin, "You're just cute."
Without growling, without even grimacing, he leant forward, taking a length of tinsel, Rogue's stance tensing warily. He lashed out, wrapping the tinsel around her, and with a triumphant growl he pinned her to the floor, leaning over her.
"Well," he rumbled, "Lookee here..."
Rogue just let a naughty smile play on her face, the dance in her eyes totally at ease. Logan didn't really get to ponder on why that was exactly, because her legs wrapped around his hips and with an all too easy twist of her bottom half she sent him careening over his head onto the floor. He let out a little yelp, and as he fell in a heap he moaned.
"Christ, Marie, playfightin's not supposed to hurt!"
She sniggered, "I think you're jus' bein' a wimp."
He picked himself up off the ground, waddling over to her on his knees whilst rubbing his shoulder gingerly.
"If you beat me up too hard," he said, sliding his arms around her waist, "Then I won't be well enough for what comes after the playfightin'."
Holding onto her this time, he fell back onto the ground, pulling her down on top of him. He hissed, and lifted a shoulder, pulling out a bell from underneath him, the thing looking a little worse for wear.
"Good one," Rogue snorted. "Ya squashed it like a penny!"
"Shuddup." He threw it at her head and it pinged off.
"Ah-how!"
She hit him, and he grabbed her hand.
"What did I say?"
"Ah don't care," she pouted, "You're being a sadistic pig!"
"You're one to talk."
She frowned, "You know we're supposed to be putting up a Christmas tree!"
"Yeah well it's not Christmas for another seventy-two hours," he said, rough and deep, "I think we got the time to kill."
"I-" she stopped to giggle as he ran his hand up the small of her back, "Think -that you're a bad bad man and you're gonna corrupt me!"
"Too late fer that," he sniggered.
He pulled her down as he stretched up, burying his face into her thin scarf, inhaling her sweet perfume. He felt her mood change, it was tangible in the flex of the muscles in her neck. He leant back, and saw her eyes, gazing at his collar but not really looking at it, a dent in her brow. Gathering the scarf he caressed her face.
"What's wrong?"
A smile flashed across her lips and she glanced to him, shaking her head with a soft sigh.
"Nothin', I - I was just thinkin' bout how close Ah came to goin' out with that jerk in Meridian, n' how fast things change on ya when you change your mind about somethin'."
He sighed, watching his hands as the ran over her cheek, "Life's a fuck-up like that. Kinda makes things interesting too."
"Ah know."
Logan nodded.
"Logan?"
"Hmm?"
She looked to him, that light frown touching her brow once more. "What didya do? When I was gone?"
He shrugged, "Waited for you to come home."
This seemed to amuse her and she smiled, "And then you changed your mind."
He nodded, "That's right."
The smiled grew wider, "I'm glad you did."
He gazed at her long with a satisfied smile, "So am I, Marie."
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
Those Angst-Grrls, dang-nabbit. Every single one of them that read it and said it was cute, even though I was struggling for thick intense Logan angst. Of course, I don't generally do self-mutilation or that sort of thing, but I do do moochy sad missing people stuff. I'm pouring all my "I wanna die kill me life!" energies into Causa Anima. So stay tuned for that unless you're feeling suicidal. Then again - read that if you're suicidal, cause you'll see how bad Marie is feeling and think "Oh isn't it a nice day, I'm going to go play a nice clean game of badmington and eat muffins!" Yes. Oh - and everything I know about Meridian and the Deep South I learned from Donna, so if I got something terribly wrong - blame her. I only ever been to LA, and that was bad enough (Do you people have not a chique soul in your damned BODIES?!). I'm kidding. I'm blathering - read the damned story already - oh and feedback! Please! I live, die, and exist on it. This is a sad thing. But feed my addiction anyway. Please. This isn't Beta-read yet. It is spell checked though.