You know, being a student here at the School for the Gifted, and watching him go out on mission after mission to return very much unscathed, I took it granted that he returned at the end of them. I didn't go on them, so I never knew the danger. I'd seen other X-Men hurt, but not him. Not Wolverine. He would look messed up, his hair spiky in all the wrong places, and his leather suit shredded worse that a Whitehouse legal document, but his flesh would be whole. No matter how tired he looked, I felt safety in that.
It wasn't till the day I went on my first mission of my own that I realised how much danger he went through all the time. It was like the Statue of Liberty all over again, but I remained strong. I gripped my fists inside thick leather gloves, keeping the tail, listening for Cyclops, following the plan. I belted the ass I was supposed to belt, and played the part of fierce sassy Rogue to a T. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see they were all proud.
I had to be strong though, because I couldn't be scared anymore. There was being scared, and dying, or being strong, and battling. I liked battling, it was something new for me, and it made sense. More sense than being scared ever did to me.
Maybe I gained that from the Logan inside, then again I couldn't blame my Inner Logan for everything I did that seemed to be unhealthy. That's not fair on Logan, and not fair on me. Those around me don't give me too much credit. The second I'm strong, they nod and agree that the Logan inside is making himself known. It was just the Inner Marie, truth be told.
No amount of inner strength was going to aid me this time. Xavier had picked those for this mission, and I wasn't one of those included. It was for no other reason that despite my invulnerability, I was injured recently in something as stupid as a car accident. Failed brakes. My leg was reknitting itself faster than your regular person's leg, but I was still limping, ergo - I wasn't to go.
It sounded dangerous, the kind of mission Logan just loved. It was the first time in ages that I stayed behind as he'd gone. It was different this time, so different. Back then, I'd let myself accept that he'd be fine, and I was blind to what was really going on.
Witnessing the hardships the X-Men battled first-hand, suddenly waiting seemed impossible.
I had no choice as I sat in my room, feeling the deep rumble of the X-Jet's engines shake the floorboards, not needing to look out the window to see the flash of light created from them speeding off towards their goals.
The first hour I spent reading, trying not to think about Logan.
It's the strangest thing, reading to keep yourself from thinking. It's like all your brain shuts down, and all there is are these words, that book. That book is your world, and the moment you draw away from it you feel a dull ache - that's reality - so you throw yourself into fantasy again. Just for a little while longer, just to escape the hurt.
Why I was hurting eluded me. Worrying was never in my nature, because I was always one for action. No point whining and fretting when there's things to be done, that sort of thing. But as I sat in my room, immersing myself in a random Star Wars novel, my stomach churned. My cheeks burned. My head felt slightly light.
Worry was wrapping me up.
The second hour I spent sitting with Jubilee in the rec room, watching the X-Files. It proved to be a little more painful than I realised it would be. It was a repeated episode, and Scully was wandering about, eyes large and watery, her heart aching for her lost partner. Of course, Logan wasn't lost. He was just on a mission, and he was fine, just fine.
My heart wouldn't believe that, no matter how many times my brain repeated it.
The third hour to the fifth hour I spent outside on the lawn. I took out a blanket, pillow, dragged one of the deck-chairs from the patio out and with a beer and a cigar, I just gazed at the stars. How one could spend two hours in the middle of the night puzzles me to this day, but that I did. Somehow the sky, the stars - it cooled the burning sickness in my heart. My stomach always twisted, turned, threatening to empty itself. In the past hours, I didn't eat anything. Eating wasn't an option. Living wasn't an option till Logan returned to me.
So I thought back to all the times I treasured with him, and after the years together that had been many, and how wonderful he was to me, how different. I comforted in the fact he was strong. Logan was strong.
I lamented the dedication to our cause, the dedication that seemed to make us miss the fact that we needed each other so badly. I wouldn't say it stopped us from ever being more than the closest of friends, because we're more than friends could ever be. We do not share a bed, or lovers' caresses, so perhaps being in love would be an exaggeration. Either way, he meant more to me than anything. I took comfort in that too.
Halfway through the sixth hour, the X-Jet returned, and I ran down to the lower levels to make sure everyone, especially Logan, was okay.
Leather-clad body after leather-clad body filed out down the gang-way, and I gently shoved them aside, eyes searching always. I barely heard Jean's voice behind me as I limped up inside, seeing the dark steely belly of the metal bird completely empty. I span about, my eyes stopping on each person in the hanger.
Brown hair, steely visor... Scott. Blue fur, kind face...Hank. Red eyes, chiselled features...Gambit. Red hair, pragmatic ruddy hazel eyes...Jean. Black hair, impish face...Morph.
My hands shook violently as I glanced from face to face.
"Where is he?"
The words were sharp, demanding. Jean glanced to Cyclops, eyes red-rimmed and soft.
My body stormed forward, the most part of my spirit curled in a ball, too scared to hear what she had to say. Perhaps it was my Inner Logan wanting to know his Outer self's fate that moved me, I don't know, but hands grabbed Jean's shoulders and I glared at her colder than Bobby's sweaty palm.
"Where. Is. He?!"
"Rogue - he-"
"He's missing," Cyclops said shortly, his face a mask behind the visor, "Sentinels came in all around. There were too many of them."
I grit my teeth, hands still at Jean's shoulders. I glared at her, and she nodded in affirmative.
"D'you think he's dead?"
Again, that silence. A woeful, dank, terrible silence. I glare at them all.
"Well?!"
"There is a good chance he is alive," Hank said, "We were surrounded by too many of them, we were in peril. To stay would have been suicide."
I didn't understand. It didn't make sense. When people were hurt, or in trouble - you helped them right? Right?!
"You didn't try to save him?" I breathed, looking at them like they were heartless bastards - in that moment that's all I saw them as.
"It wasn't an acceptable situation, Rogue," Cyclops said, "He threw himself into that mass of Sentinels, despite orders, and we had to get out of there. No point wiping out the core team members because of one person's inability to follow-"
"You coward!" I hissed, "You yellow-bellied shit-eating coward! You let him die!"
Jean sighed, "We don't know if he's dead. In fact the last time we saw him he was battling away without a care in the world. It's just we don't know where he is now, and we couldn't stick around to find out. Like Scott said, we can't risk the greater good for Wolverine's personal vendettas."
I blinked with incomprehension, "Personal WHAT?!"
Gambit turned away for a moment, and then looking back to me he shrugged.
"Petite, de Wolverine be findin' out de spineless worm dat be makin' dese big robot guys is Monsieur Trask."
My throat tightened instantly. "They.... Trask?!"
It had been both devastating and relieving to Logan, discovering that one of the men that developed his adamantium skeletal implants was not only one of the foremost scientists in NASA, not only constructed the huge Sentinels - robot gargantuans set to patrol the streets and rid them of miscreant mutants out to disrupt society - but was also very much alive and well at the Sentinel's Home Base.
Apparently he decided to go seek out the master of cybernetics himself.
I could only stand there in dull shock, rage and impatience shuddering my limbs. I blinked slowly, barely registering Scott squeezing my shoulder, speaking softly.
"I'm sorry Rogue," he said, "It was out of our control."
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was soft. Tender. Responsible.
All the things Logan wasn't, and I hated him for it.
Without a word I strode past him, to the lift, to the above-ground levels, up the wooden stairway, to my bedroom. These things all flashed by as I moved without thinking, moved without feeling. I felt as an automaton, as lost and as blind. I couldn't say Logan was dead - I would not believe that. So my body and soul couldn't mourn.
But he wasn't here in my arms - so I couldn't feel safe.
I was in limbo, an aching painful clutch of existence next to the precipice of grief, and the relative safety of relief. It was pure hell on earth, where time crawled, where a moment's relief in agony was met with swaths of guilt, where true lasting relief was something one would dream of, thirsting for it, needing it.
The five hours I spent this night were nothing compared to the waiting that followed.
The first day I spent being busy. Never a moment to rest, rush rush rush. Despite feeling incredibly ill with worry, despite never taking a moment to eat, I puttered about in the glass-house. I played the piano in the music room. I took time to read the novel I started the day before. I went shopping with Kitty and Jubilee and spent far too much, but nobody minded because they were sad for me. I did things for as long as I could, till the thrill of the newness was gone. And then it would all rush back, and without hesitation or patience I ran on to the next thing to do.
I tried to outrun the tight heavy knot inside of me that said Logan was gone.
Every now and again I made a trip of the grounds, checking all the places Logan liked. I spent half an hour in the security office, gazing at black and white screens and trying to ignore the date on them, saying that it was a day since Logan had been gone. I just wished the white black-rimmed numbers didn't look so unforgiving. How they looked couldn't change what was the truth, however.
As I stared at those numbers, there was a light knock at the door of the security office.
"Rogue?"
It was a high, almost comedic voice, but laced with worry. I glanced to the door, body cringing at the sight of the blue-eyed imp who was with them when they abandoned Logan.
"Whaddaya want?"
He sighed, wringing a hand against his neck, stepping into the room.
"I just wanted to see how you're doing."
"How do you think I'm going?" I bit. Morph practically recoiled at this.
Morph, or Ronald, was not the kind of fellow that took kindly to shitty moods. He stuck with Bobby and the boys, his talents at wise-cracking and joke-telling rather popular with them. To be honest, he annoyed the fuck out of me sometimes, because his laugh was like that of a child in the back of the classroom that found the crudest of jokes amazingly hilarious, and his habit of morphing into other people at the slightest provocation was not only disorientating but highly disturbing. He was a kind soul though, who only aimed to please, and usually tried a little hard to do so. As irritating as I found him, my heart softened at his sweet face and his even sweeter soul, that lived only to make others laugh. Had he not been a metamorphosing mutant in a world full of mutant-hating people, he'd have made a fine comedian.
It was a mutant-hating world though, and he abandoned my closest friend. I was in no mood for forgiveness.
"Look, Rogue I- I'm sorry that we left him behind, but he just threw himself into the fight, ya know?"
I let out a seething snort, "Well why didn't the REST of ya?"
"The battle was lost," he said, sadness in his tone, "Logan went mad!"
I felt the burning of tears at my eyes. "I don't blame him."
"Neither do I," Morph replied, voice too soft, too soothing. I didn't want to hear it, didn't want to find him likeable.
I rubbed my eyes wearily, holding my face in my hands.
"Look, Morph, is there a reason why you're here?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "I was worried about ya, and I wanted to make sure you're okay. And - and I wanted to say sorry, that we left him behind."
Those tears were burning spikes in my eyes, blurring the world behind me. I stole a glance to him. His large blue eyes were to the brim with regret.
"I... I wish I had a better power than morphing. I wish I was strong and indestructible like you, cause maybe I could have saved him then. I can't though... I did the best I could, and it wasn't enough. I hope, sooner or later, that you can forgive me, cause I consider you a friend Rogue. A very dear one. It dogs me to know I let ya down. And Logan."
I didn't answer him. I couldn't answer him. If I opened my mouth, looked at him, I would have burst into tears, the anguish inside me at breaking point. I kept my stare fixed on the screens in front of me, gripping my gloved hands together tightly, trying to stop them from shaking. It only served to make the rest of me tremble.
I felt a hand pat my shoulder, and squeeze briefly.
"I'll see ya round Rogue."
After that encounter, I couldn't stay in the security room for a moment longer, the room now bathed in the emotion of the moment, every sight and smell in there waking panic and aching within me.
From the security room, I strolled down the main corridor that lead to Cerebro, listening to my steps echo off the smooth tiled walls. Not really thinking about where I was going, I wandered past the briefing room... And stopped.
Voices... three of them. Leaning against the wall, I grew still and listened.
"If he had have just listened to us, we wouldn't be in this mess."
As Scott spoke, my eyes roamed over the muted blue reflection of myself in the tile across from me, and the way the light made the large blue slab glow somehow. Where the hell would you find somewhere that sold huge assed tiles like that anyway? The voice of the Professor replied.
"I know, Scott. I think you also know that there isn't much point in wallowing in events that cannot be changed."
"Rogue found out straight away, Professor. You know how shaken up she was...It's been getting to him," said Jean, her voice echoed in the room.
Well, gee, poor old Scott.
"Back to the plan," said the Professor. "From what we could gather from the memory bank we acquired from the fallen Sentinel, Logan was a target because he wasn't registered with the agency and considered a threat. The point in which the orders changed from destruction to capture aren't clear..."
Oh what did it matter? WHAT did it matter? Why weren't they gathering people up, getting ready to go get Logan back? I reined in my whirling thoughts, trying to concentrate on what was being said in the briefing room.
"It's gonna take time to prepare the junior X-Men," Scott said, "Familiarize them with the schematics of the building, formulate a strategy-"
"How long?"
I could hear an edge of anxiousness in the Professor's voice. Did he know something? Feel something?
"Three days," Jean replied.
Xavier sighed then, but blood was rushing in my ears, my fists shook wildly, and I couldn't stand there another minute. My steps slipped to strides, and I found myself running. I wasn't sure where to, I just had to think, feel a breeze on my face, move. If I moved, I'd feel sensations, change of scenery, change of smell and sound. It was enough to keep my mind occupied, to slow the growing panic and desperation within me.
Three days? Three Goddamned days?!
He could be dead by then, I thought, they could be hurting him - have to go there now... now...
I walked the long main corridor of the dormitory wing, my heels striking polished wood. What could I do? What could I do?
As I stalked the wood-panelled hall, the soft padding gallop of 'my' cat Ginseng caught up to me, furred body twisting around my feet. As the cat purred and meowed at me, I felt a blinding grief inside me that drowned me.
Despite the cat having the name of healing herbal tea, and despite the cat being a gift to me, it was known throughout the mansion that the cat chose Logan, and Logan called it "Shit-head". Everyone else called it "Ginny".
"Hey Gin-Gin," I muttered mindlessly, pulling the cat up to my chest, burying my lips in the fur on top of his head. The grey fur was soft, warm, and I revelled in the silky sensation of my lips against it.
For one brief moment I was distracted by the cat in my arms, in the cuddle it gave me, stretchy limber fur covered limbs reaching for my shoulders. It almost made me forget that Ginseng loved Logan best, and slept on the foot of his bed. Almost.
Behind all that a wild panic raged, and I couldn't keep still. Pacing in the corridor swiftly, I hugged Ginseng, not being able to cry, but feeling the ache in my throat, the cruel unstoppable hope in my heart, and the rush of knowing that they weren't going to help him. Not in time, not like that. The cat grew tired of our embrace, and leapt from my arms. Galloping down the hall, the cat's tail writhed airily. After a few yards the cat stopped, turned around, and blinked at me.
"Meow."
Yes, meow. I followed her, like I felt she wanted me to, and after a few steps I realised where she wanted to go. It was the one place she was bound to not have had access to for a good twenty-four hours. Seeing as she practically lived in that room, that must have disrupted her terribly.
With a wiggle of her back end and a loving purring meow to me, she stopped at Logan's door.
"Prrt-mrow!"
My throat grew tight, pain seizing it, tears rimming my eyes.
"Ah'm-" I choked, pulling back a sob, "I'm sorry baby... Daddy ain't home."
She paced back and forth in front of the door, and impatiently she leapt up against the frame, stretching her claws.
Taking short, shaking steps forward, I reached towards the door, opening it.
The light from the hall fell inside the room that was dark and windowless. I stepped inside, following little Ginseng, and I automatically flicked on the light.
On my first breath inside the room, I could smell him vividly. Under the smoke, the light cologne, there was something else, something of flesh and body. That scent was pure Logan. On the isolation of that smell the tears in my eyes spilled over, making everything a blur.
I remembered the day I got Ginseng, walking through the shops in the mall, seeing the little bundle of fur studded with large glassy blue eyes pacing back and forth in her glass cage, the little animal rearing on her back legs and leaning against the glass, meowing pitifully at Logan.
Logan's jaw tensed, and he glared at me. It's as if he saw the look of understanding that flickered in my eyes, the kindred spirit I sensed in the cage before me. She liked Logan. I liked Logan. I could see the cat and I had a future together.
"I don't think you should get that cat..."
"Excuse me?" I said, calling over the sales lady, "I'd like this kitten, please. How much is it?"
"Twenty five dollars, she's had all her shots and you get a discount on her first collar."
"Rogue, are you listening to me?"
I blinked at him. His features were firm, and I knew I was pissing him off.
"You know we don't live in our own house."
"Honestly, Logan, there are a bunch of big stupid horses there - what's one little kitty? I know a kid in the other wing has a hamster."
"Hamster is one thing - a cat is different, and you know it."
It was as if something greater than what I knew ordained that I should have this cat. Not only did she love me to bits (the first thing she did when I pulled her from the cage was to lay her arms around my neck and snuggle to my scarf), but her name just fell in my lap.
"Don't forget we promised Ro we'd pick her up some ginseng tea-"
"Ginseng!" I gasped, and held aloft the cat. I think Logan knew what I was thinking.
"Oh no," he shook his head, "You're naming it after *tea*?"
"It's a great name!" I said, "People call cats all sorts of things. Healing tea... healing cat."
He looked bewildered, "What the hell is the cat healing?"
Pulling the cat up to my face, I snuggled her a little, and realisation dawned on Logan, his face softening, those usually hard hazel eyes growing translucent (as they were oft to do in my presence). The fur had been so soft and luxurious against my lips, and above all, it was a part of a warm, living breathing animal. It was love, and the animal wasn't scared to give it to me, she never would be.
He pulled out thirty dollars and slapped it on the counter. "She's getting the cat."
The woman at the counter had seen the disagreement with me and Logan over the cat. She eyed us with large brown eyes that screamed of kindness and care.
"Not that I'm one to refuse a sale - but are you sure it's okay to have animals where you live?"
"I'm sure the dude we live with will be cool with it."
I didn't want to go into where I lived, and I was pretty sure Xavier would be cool with it. Mostly sure. Kind of.
"I don't want to sell an animal to have it end up in a home or put down..."
"Not gonna happen," Logan said firmly, then added, just as firmly, and just as gruff, "Ginseng would like a pink collar, thank you."
And so entered Ginseng. Since that day, the cat shared my unequalled affection for Logan yet was faithfully at my side every day, every morning, without fail. It only took her ten minutes in Logan's room, chewing through his boot laces and knocking his car keys under the dresser with wide-eyed innocence to earn her less flattering nick-name. I glanced down to the cat once more. She paced about, sniffing, looking. She seemed rather dissatisfied, and leaping upon the bed you could almost see the little thing frowning.
"Momph."
The sound was unhappy, put out. She wanted Logan, it was clear as day.
And dear Christ above - I wanted him too.
With a shuddering breath in, I span about, running from the room, heading for the one place where I'd feel okay.
Reason's left ya Rogue, I thought to myself, You've gone off the deep end.
Then again I knew what a damned mess these people made of things when I first ran away from here, I wasn't going to let them fuck up like that with Logan.
Glass, brushed steel, blue tiling. It smelled of polish and chemicals and technology. My hands shook as I pressed the buttons to open the case, my eyes glinting at the metallic red cording that ran like veins through the black sleek leather that awaited me. I always felt cold in here, always, and slipping into that tight leather binding made me feel better. It also changed me.
Softness melted away to ferocity. Affection slid to camaraderie. Love dissolved to dedication. Anger dissipated to resolve.
Marie stepped out and Rogue stepped in.
Pulling out the leather, stripping away my clothes without care that I wasn't in a changing booth, the sobbing frightened pining Marie was shut off, shunned. I sent her running to hide. My bare hands slipped over the thick shining leather, heart pounding as action steeled me. In this black encasing, fear had no place. Grief had no place. I wasn't scared in this skin, I wasn't afraid or in mourning.
Especially when I zipped the bitch up, grabbed my leather gloves and hauled my ass out that door.
Deciding to steal the X-Jet (More commonly referred to as the Blackbird by Scott - it was his shining pride and joy, even more than his bike. That is really saying something) was one thing. Remembering the code for the keys was another. If I couldn't remember, I'd have to smash the case that they were held in, and it'd set off the alarm. I was seriously beginning to consider how fast I could run to the hanger, when a tune entered my head.
Doo-wa-ditty? Doo-wa-ditty?! What the hell stupid time was it to think of -
The keys had a tone.... Wracking my brain I remembered which key Scott always started on... 2. Yeah - that was the doo bit. The keys... damn what was their difference in tone? I silently thanked God for all those years of piano lessons my mother forced down my throat, and it clicked. Semitone - they were a semitone apart on each line. Each line was laced with a lifted tone harmonic. With shaking hands, I pressed two... yes.... then five, eight.... five, six six .... eeeeeenggg what next?! Two... one?
Red lights flashed in the hallway and I growled.
"Fuck!"
I smashed the case, grabbed the keys and shot down the hall as fast as I could propel myself. When I arrived at the hangar doors, no amount of my pressing buttons would get that bitch of a door to open. Crap. I didn't *want* to destroy Chuck's perfectly good resources, but right at that moment, I didn't see much of a choice. With a growl rumbling deep in my throat, I made a running jump at the reinforced steel door, my brain still singing Doo-Wa-Ditty.
It only dented. It was a fair dent, but dent enough. I made another running jump, this time with my arm out straight.
Doo wa ditty, ditty dum ditty doo.
There was a twisting wrenching noise, and I couldn't help but be amused at the vaguely Rogue-shaped dent in the door. Nearly there. I had images of the jedi Qui-Gon Jinn at work with his saber in The Phantom Menace as I sank my arm deep into the dent, ergo deep into the door, twisting and pushing the steel like clay.
With a final yank of my arms, I ripped the steel apart. For a moment, perhaps it was my imagination, the red lights and klaxons seemed a little more desperate.
"Hanger door breached. Hanger door breached."
The voice was even, cool, female. Yeah, I thought, you tell them all about your breached fucking door whilst I run off with a nice airplane.
The keys granted me access to the jet itself, and thankfully Cyke had been oh-so-dedicated in teaching me all he knew about this little puppy. Birdy. Whatever. The problem was, the other hanger door - the hangar door to the outside world - was probably sealed in the emergency.
Ohhhh crap.
It was then when black leather clad figures came streaming out of the ripped open door. They popped out like ants from their nests. Cyke, Jean, Storm....aah, Beast, Gambit. All my good buddies. Jubilee would have probably been there too if she wasn't away on training vacation. Jamming in the strangely shaped keys and slamming the engines into action, the X-Men outside staggered back, guarding their eyes from the blasts of fire.
"Rogue!"
The com-link in the hangar blasted to life, and looking at the monitor showing me the action outside, I saw Cyclops shouting into the console at the hangar doors.
"Open the doors, Cyke."
"No can do Rogue."
I took a long breath in, angling the ship up. "Then I'll just have to make a nice Blackbird shaped hole in the roof."
"Rogue - this isn't the way to deal with this!"
I laughed. It was a hollow sound.
"And abandoning someone is? Sure. Well you deal in your way, and I'll deal in mine. Open. The. Fucking. Door."
"Rogue-"
"Okaaaay." I took a decisive sniffle in. "Ah'm gonna count to five."
"And then what Rogue? You're gonna blast your way out?"
I grinned as I altered the direction of the jets, releasing the braking thrusters and getting prepared to make my escape.
"Ya know, shoogs, that's a fine idea!"
The whole jet shook on it's struts, but the doors remained tightly shut.
"Ah mean it, Cyke. Don't think I'm joshin' ya."
There was a tense silence over the com, and I thought that maybe I really *would* have to blast through the roof.
"Okay." I pressed my lips together and released the last of the braking thrusters. "If I die, it's for Logan."
That did it. I saw Cyclops scrambling for the keypad on the console in the doorframe, Jean turning around and glaring at him. The doors slid open, achingly slow, and the released braking thruster stopped the Blackbird's downward momentum, hurtling it up and onward. The door rushed toward the front window, and I thought there would be a Blackbird and Rogue Supreme splattered against the inside of the hangar. Cyclops must a' done some of his fancy finger dancin' cause the doors rolled open a little faster then.
There was a painful crunch that shook the jet as one wing tipped the opening door, but the jet made it free.
I wish I could have flown myself, just floated off into the night, but that waslike running a marathon for me. My endurance was wonderful, but I wanted to have as much energy as possible when I got the Sentinel headquarters.
Ohh, 'Monsieur' Trask was gonna get a visitor.
Thankfully the flight logs in Blackbird's computers showed me where I needed to go. I congratulated myself on sitting in on the pre-mission meetings. Since I was left at home I didn't have to, but I wanted to. I wanted to know what they were sending my friends into.
I hissed a breath through my teeth and clutched my leg. All that action had my reknitting fibia throbbing, but I ignored it, accessing that deeply rooted aspect of Logan's mind that lived within my own, using his strength, utilizing his relaxation techniques. My whole body was buzzing with adrenaline, but inside I was calm. Calm like small ponds, like pretty leaves catching the sun on a windless day. My mind just plotted carefully each step along the way, counting where Cyclops and the gang went wrong, where I would go right.
I wouldn't let those Sentinel bastards live if I had anything to do with it. Unlike the rest of them, I actually had the strength to carry that mental threat out.
~What are you doing?~
I giggled then. Chucky, Chucky, Chucky. He could conceivably turn me around, make me think something else, make me stop this. Maybe he forgot all those meditation lessons, those mind control sessions. I was no Xavier, but I could put up a good fight.
~Rogue, why are you doing this?~
"Don't play dumb, Chuck baby," I drawled, working at the controls. "I think it's blatantly obvious."
~We're preparing a rescue mission, Rogue, you don't need to do this.~
"A good part of that 'we' left him behind," I said. "Sorry - you lot had your chance. My turn now."
~Your leg...~
"Will heal, but I can fly, remember?"
~I'll not force you to return.~
"Ohhhhh," I groaned, shaking my head, "Don't you try that reverse psychology crap on me, sugar."
~No ulterior motives, Rogue. I'm deeply worried for your safety. We'll rescue Logan, but we musn't act irrationally. I'd hate to lose you.~
I sighed, blowing the air through my cheeks. He was too sweet, but also too clever. I grit my teeth, staying on course.
"Now now," I said, "Enough o' that irrational crap. I been thinkin' this out good and proper like a real X-Man!"
~Wouldn't you prefer to have some back-up?~
The jet was fast as a greased eel, and I could see the huge looming Sentinel building in the distance. For some reason, I didn't feel that Chuck was too worried. In fact, if I knew any better, he was testin' the waters here. Either way, it wasn't important. I wasn't waiting anymore, and I wasn't gonna pine in darkness.
Logan needed me, and I wasn't gonna let him down.
A driving biting pain propelled me. If it had words, they would be 'Find him, find him, must find him, must know. Must know if he's dead. If he's alive. If he's in one piece. If he's dust. If he's mangled body. If he's fighting. If he's restrained.'
A thousand scenarios battled through my mind.
~The others will follow you, Rogue.~
I grit my teeth determinately. "Sure they will. You just make sure they keep outta mah hair."
The Sentinel's Home Base was heavily guarded, and honestly I expected nothing less. Huge floodlights swung to and fro into the deeply blue night sky, and the odd helicopter hovered past, scanning the ground with it's own spotlight. I set the Blackbird down at some distance, and made the rest of the way on foot. Seeing as this was about a fair mile of road surrounded by National Park (how convenient!) and neatly barb-wired fences, it was a surreal walk.
My second skin of black leather helped conceal me beautifully as I approached the building. It occurred to me that damn it all - Chuck was right. This would have been easier with a team behind me to distract people.
Oh well, I'd have to make do. I thought on what I had on my side. Sheer brutal strength, invulnerability to damage, flight - and if worst came to worst, my skin.
After killing Carol Danvers (that homicidal blonde bitch), I never used it again. A light breeze whipped up, fluttering my hair away from my face. I liked breezes, they were like touches. Almost.
I approached a boundary wall. It was thick stone, the wide tops crowned with barbed wire. Floating up some, I took a close look at the wire. There was electrically charged fencing wound through the razor wire. Well well well.
Thankfully, I could float right over it. I curled up, waiting for the next sweep of a floodlight to pass me by. I didn't want to be caught out like a James Bond intro. Like a shadow I slipped over the wall, sinking into the darkness, watching as guards paced back and forth, bristling with guns and armoury. There was a front entrance, and there seemed to be some fire doors.
I hid in the shadows for some time, watching the main thoroughfare of the base. Government vans and personnel teemed from the main gate, vans coming and going, probably loaded with supplies. It was when a huge unmarked truck rolled into the main gate that I approached slowly, listening keenly, wishing I had Logan's hearing.
A guard and the driver stepped aside, the guard poring over a clipboard and pointing to the truck. One guard climbed in, and then a large wooden crate edged it's way out of the truck.
Bingo.
Sticking to the shadows, I floated towards the truck. I turned the corner of it, planning to roll up the canvas edge and slip inside, but I nearly strolled right into a guard. The man turned around, and his eyes flashed - mouth opened! He was going to shout!
With a swift back hand that would fell an elephant, I knocked the poor bastard unconscious. Before he could clatter to the floor with all that weaponry I caught him, laying him on the floor gently like a baby.
"Nighty night, shoogs."
I slipped inside the van, eyeing the crates. Good one Rogue, I thought, How the hell are you going to get inside of those?
It was a problem, as they were nailed shut. I tip-toed about, eyeing the different crates. Peeling back a tarpaulin, I kept a gleeful shout to myself.
It was a huge trolley to the brim with small boxes. Sentinel parts, no doubt. Maybe their big beady eyes or sommin'. I shoved a few of the boxes out of the way, pulled them back, slowly sinking in the box as the men fussed at the very back of the truck loudly, slamming and thumping. Obviously Sentinel parts weren't required to be carefully handled.
After burying myself in the boxes, I lay deathly still. Logan had taught me a lot over the years, and one of them was the art of hiding. What he never taught me was how to stop myself from needin' a pee. Damn it!! Even when I was a kid, I'd need to go to the little girl's room when I found the perfect hiding spot and was required to keep absolutely still.
Of course, I did sit still, and the urge to pee passed. I wasn't sure how long I sat there, listening keenly to what the guys were shouting. Mostly directions, like 'Over here Ted', and 'Watch your feet with this one Rodney'. The unloading adventures of Ted and Rodney didn't make for fascinating listening, and I wondered how the hell they managed to get into the army with names like that. One new voice proved more informative.
"Rod - get that load of servos to second storehouse, will ya?"
When I heard Rod shout an okay, and my hiding place shook around me. Ahhh, I was lying in a bed of servos. Not exactly poetic, but very useful.
I don't know how long I was lying amongst boxes, feeling everything shudder and wriggle around me. As I felt my direction change, and the vibration of asphalt under the wheels, I heard a rumbling. It was distant, distinct. Like thunder.
Well, the Professor was right. They would follow me, and perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. Whilst all these government gooks were busy with my pals, I could make a clean break after snatchin' up Logan.
A tilting followed the shuddering, and I realised they were wheeling me up a ramp. Perhaps I was getting in one of those side entrances. I didn't see any warehouses in my scouting of the area, so hopefully I was being put into the main complex.
I waited again, waiting waiting, till the sounds of shifting and moving and speaking faded. It was just as I was going to steal free of the servo tomb that I heard it - what Marvin the Martian once described as an, 'An earth shattering Ka-BOOM.'
I didn't wait to find out what it was, even though I knew what it meant. I burst from the box, and with a quick scope of my surroundings, I realised I was in huge white room lined with more electronic gizmos and crates and trolleys than I thought I'd ever see in my life. There were double doors at the end of the hall, and in the small circular windows in them, I could see guards running back and forth. I crouched, creeping to the door, and as I edged the spring-loaded doors open a fraction, I could smell gun oil and smoke in the air.
There was also a distinctive whiff of kerosene. That clinched it for me...the X-Men had definitely arrived, and Johnny had to be with them.
I watched the guards running around madly, and with the white inside of the building, my leather garb was useless. Crouching down, I waited for the vaguely right sized guard to run along, and with a shooting out of my arm into the hallway, I picked him like a prize peach, dragging him into the store room.
He was about to shout, but I covered his mouth with a leather gloved hand.
"Aww," I tilted my head, "You wouldn't give a girl away would ya?"
His eyes flashed with fear, and that was my answer.
"Yes, yes you would. Now, you can be quiet whilst I relieve you of your uniform, or you can threaten to scream and kick and I'll thwap your pretty mug senseless."
He whimpered and glared at me.
"Is that your final answer?"
He shouted and kicked ineffectually: I had him by his torso, and his legs were dangling away from me harmlessly. I sighed, pulling back my hand.
"Such a pity it's always the pretty ones."
I let my hand swing, and with a crack it impacted on his face, his jaw probably breaking, and he spun in a staggered circle before collapsing on the floor. With swift speed I pulled off his clothes, boots, hat, and I dragged the tighty-whitey totin' body around some boxes, hiding him nicely there. I got changed, but holding my uniform, I knew I couldn't just throw it to the wayside. The last thing the X-Men needed was firm evidence that we'd breached federal security.
I swore under my breath. I couldn't just carry it around... It was thick leather too, bulky. Wouldn't be practical to conceal on my body.
It was certainly a problem. The number of guards running by was decreasing, no doubt the most of them going into battle with my friends. Piling my hair on top of my head and pulling the khaki army hat over the top of it, I grabbed the uniform and dared my way out into the corridor.
It was at this point I realised I didn't know where the hell Logan was supposed to be. Pressing my lips together in deep thought, I stood in the hallway, thinking.
"Hey you!"
I turned, trying to keep calm.
"Hey you!"
I turned, trying to keep calm.
"Yes sir!"
Automatic response held good, thankfully, because the person calling me - a guard of higher rank - stopped in front of me and crossed his arms.
"What have you got there?"
"I found it sir," I said, "Uniform from one of those mutie bastards."
He nodded quickly. "Right. Watch that terminology there, soldier. We don't want to be pinned for being racist now do we?"
"No sir," I said, standing bolt upright. I ventured a curious look. "Why are they attacking us anyway sir?"
He narrowed his eyes at me like I just asked him who the president was.
"You wet behind the ears, kid?! It's the prisoner on D level that they're after!! Now get that damned uniform to forensics so they can take a DNA sample and get your ass OUT there!"
He shoved me, and with a turn on his heel he bound down the hallway. Oh, I had to stop myself from giggling with glee. So maybe the movies were right - our soldiers really did have the joined intelligence of a baked potato. Obviously, acting as one of them was going to work, so I bound along confidently, holding the uniform under my arm. I'd need it for some time yet.
The sounds of explosions and fighting faded behind me, and after wandering aimlessly around a couple of corridors, I found the elevator. I felt like a right doofus, totally unprofessional, but I got here and I had the information I needed to know. So far so good.
The lift was rather sleek and shiny - and buttonless. Ohhhh, crap.
"Level please."
I blinked at the sound of the deep voice that was obviously pre-recorded. Wow, technological. Leaning forward, I cleared my throat.
"Level D."
"Clearance Code required."
I froze. Okay, obviously I was going to need another way down there. If it was down. I clenched my teeth.
"Okay," I said, "How's my fist for a clearance code?"
"Clearance Code required," it said again.
I sighed, pacing back and forth. Damn it. How the hell was I ever going to find this level?! A few guards ran past, not even glancing at me. Okay. I hated to do this. I grabbed the last one, dragging him into the small space of the elevator and pulling closed the doors. I heard shouting outside, and the ringing 'ting ting' of bullets against the doors. The guard glared at me.
"You - the door! You bent it like butter!!"
I nodded silently.
"You're a mutant!"
"No shit," I purred.
"You one of those freaks from outside?"
I shook my head slowly. "Nope." I tilted my head then, licking my lips delicately in thought. All this bravado, I'm sure it was Logan and Carol inside of me giving me the front. Admittedly, inside I was a panting desperate girl, aching to find Logan. But that kind of behaviour wouldn't get me him. I had to be strong, capable, unflappable. I sank to my haunches, pulling the guard down with me, and narrowing my eyes, I leant on a propped hand.
"So," I said, "Are you gonna answer my questions now?"
"M-muh-"
I cocked a brow, and for some reason that scared him.
"Maybe!" he bleated.
"Good. What's the clearance code?"
His eyes bugged as he shut his mouth, his head shaking back and forth. "N-"
I cocked the brow again.
"No way, mutie!" he blathered, "I'm not lettin' you march in there- URK!"
I had him around the throat now, nice and firmly, and sliding him up the wall I let his head touch the ceiling. With all the charm and appearance of a disappointed child, I pouted.
"Mmm, now now sugar. See, your pretty robots - they march into houses and apartments and shopping malls takin' who they please just because those people happen to be different. Does that seem fair ta you? Huh?"
I tilted my brows up, tilted my head, frowned sweetly. He just croaked back at me.
"Those people broke the law!"
"Oohhh," I sighed, looking sad, "That's right. Then - why don't y'all just get the police? Hmm? This Sentinel business just ain't right. I don't think you know that do you?"
He shuddered, and I tightened my grip.
"Now, I don't know how long I can hold onto this temper of mine... but you have my friend."
The teeth of the man chattered as his lips creased open.
"Tall. Hairy, handsome. Got mutton chops and an ass that just don't quit..." I looked away dreamily as a lazy smile fell across my face, then sighed as I looked back to him. The 'tink tink tank tink' of bullets against the inside of the door was getting louder, and they'd be out with the heavy arsenal any minute. "One of a kind, shoogs, and I'm not leaving without him. Whether that means I leave here with you alive, or you dead - well that's up to you."
"I joined the army, knowin' I could lose my life Miss," he breathed, "You kill me, doesn't matter. I'm not sayin' a thing, cause it's my duty."
Oh for crying out loud, I growled inside my head. Great, just what I needed - a patriotic asshole. I growled vocally then, my inner Logan gettin' the better of me, and I tightened my grip again around the man's neck. I was so damned pissed off I was ready to snap his neck for his stupid blind duty. His eyes bugged, the veins in his neck bulged under my hands and he shrieked.
Obviously he wasn't ready to die.
"ARMAGEDDON!" he wailed, "ARMAGEDDON!!!"
Again, I held back on the giggling as the lift whirred to life around us, the 'tink tink tink' on the door stopping abruptly. I let him go, the man falling to the floor like a ragdoll, massaging his neck madly. I paced around the small space, touching my chin in thought, and I glanced back to him as I waited at the door.
"Well done, soldier," I said, taking up my uniform, "Your country is proud a' ya."
As the lift slowed swiftly, the doors tried to open. Couldn't, because the dents were sticking out past the gap in the wall for them, effectively locking us in. The soldier on the ground eyed the dents with hope.
Nice thought, but no cigar.
With a slam of my hands I shoved the dents back in place, and the door slid open. It was only open an inch when I saw the black glimmer of polished carbon set steel. I leapt aside, hiding inside the wall, watching as a hail of bullets blasted the inside of the small round elevator. I swallowed my horror as the soldier on the floor was studded with bullets, blood bursting all over him like small explosions, his body quivering and bucking at the onslaught.
Obviously the other guards had no qualms in utilizing his oath of sacrifice upon joining the army.
Guns out there, me in here. What was a girl to do?
I stuffed as much of my uniform as I could inside the guard's outfit I wore, and waited. It was quiet out there. They were waiting for me.
"We know you're in there," a voice said. "There's no point in hiding. If you come out with your hands up, you'll get a fair trial."
Yeah right. Grabbing the edge of the door, I yanked it from it's housing, and I held it in front of me as a shield. It served it's purpose well as I edged out into the corridor. I listened to the direction of the bullets, and counted the sounds of different guns firing. There only had to be eight of them.
I grit my teeth, and gripping the bottom edge of the door, I gave it an almighty swing into the guards before me like a child swiping dominoes from a table. I felt something like a punch hit me in the chest, God it hurt like fire and so deep!! I kept the door swinging. The khaki clad bodies tumbled over around me, guns clattering to the floor, and I ran into the fray, slapping each man unconscious and breaking a few noses in the process. It only took a moment to incapacitate the lot of them.
Looking around, I realised this must have been a level geared to science. It stank of chemicals and everywhere was gleaming and white. As I raced about there were more swinging doors with round windows, reminiscent of hospitals. Dear God, this whole level was like a huge hospital.
"Logan," I breathed, "Hold on baby."
I pulled out the X-uniform from my front, and I stormed into a random room.
Beakers, bunsen burners, electronic microscopes - lab. It was a huge fucking lab. On the wall I could see X-rays of Logan's body. Anger boiled within me at the thought of what they could be doing to him. All of this - it'd freak the living shit out of him, I knew it. I stormed onwards, through the lab, and I gambled at sniffing the air. Sure, I was no Logan, and his powers had faded in me, but I had a sense of smell, right? I couldn't smell him. Only chloroform, bleach, blood and gun powder.
I kept powering on, slamming open doors. The level must have been evacuated. I felt dread rising within me. They better not have taken Logan. I sniffed some more, winding down endless corridors, tears rising in my eyes.
No, I thought, no tears. Tears are for Marie. Tears are for failure.
I kept sniffing, it was hard to detect around the taste of blood in my mouth (why did I taste blood?) and it's smell in my nose, but it was there.
It wasn't smoke, and it wasn't whiskey. It wasn't Old Spice or even older cigars. It was flesh, and skin, and pure Logan. I span around, and realised where I was.
Cells... so many cells around me. They all had their own numbers on the doors, stencilled in bold silver numbers, gleaming and neat. I made my way down the corridor, slamming each door open just in case, but I knew where he was.
It was the second door to the right from the end, and it was the only one with lights on in it. When I got to the door, there was a carded lock there, with a keypad. With a growl and a kick the door was no more, splinters scattering the floor. I bolted inside, then skid to a terrifying stop.
Strapped. Bound. They had him down by black straps of rough nylon belting, his knuckles capped with what looked like adamantium restraints. His head was even strapped down, and the edges of the black belt material were rimmed with his reddened skin. I fought the blurring of tears in my eyes, shaking my head over and over. His eyes were open, he was staring at me with such fear... so much fear. He was completely naked, as if clothing were too good for him, all sorts of wires and tubes stuck into his body. In his arm was a drip, and it lead to a back of saline. With sedatives, no doubt. As if to complete his indignity, he was gagged.
I stepped forward with shaky steps, my heart thudding in my chest. He shook his head at me, groaning.
"Nnng!" He was scared. "Nnngn!!!"
Tears spilled down my face as anger burst through me. He thought I was one of them.
"No, no baby." I yanked off the hat, and my hair tumbled down around me and I tousled it frantically. "It's me, baby, it's me."
His eyes softened, and the look he gave me... I had to close my eyes, blink the tears away.
"Nnng!"
This sound, it wasn't fear any more. Desperation, relief. I looked to him again, and the look was still there. I'm pretty sure I'd given him this look once upon a time, gazing upon him as my saviour, as the most glorious being the world had ever known. I didn't want to receive it from him like this. His eyes fell to the uniform I was still wearing, and the fear flickered there.
Stepping forward, I ripped off the gag, wiping a tear away gruffly with a leather glove clad hand.
"There," I breathed, "Just you wait a moment, I'll get you out of this."
I ripped and yanked at the wires and the straps, and I could hear him panting from the fear, gulping and shifting in his bonds. I got one arm free, two, ignore his penis as I move down to his legs... dear God he must have been happy to see me. I clenched my teeth, containing my anger at the indignity of all of this, and as I pulled away the last of the restraints, he shifted to get up.
"Wait, sugar, wait."
I pressed a hand to his chest as I ripped back the plasters keeping the drip inside of his arm, yanking it out.
"There, come on."
He just sat there, staring at the army uniform I wore. God, what had they done to him, getting him into this state? Again I battled the anger, but the answer was blatantly clear. It sat on the floor and gleamed up at me with a red metallic 'x'.
I ripped off the army uniform, throwing modesty to the wind, and faster than I could ever imagine doing before, I slid that leather jump-suit on over my body, zipping it up, fastening the belt buckle shaped like an encircled 'x'. It was once I'd gotten into the familiar black leather that he seemed to calm some, blinking the panic away.
"Come on," I said again, offering him a hand.
I'd been too rushed, too excited to stop and take in the moment, but it was right at that second, with him gazing at me, alive and well and here, that something within me began to yawn, a great inexorable vulnerability that I felt like I'd been avoiding forever.
My heart leapt as he grabbed onto my hand, and I pulled him to his feet, slipping my arm around his shoulders.
"I got ya now, Logan, I got ya."
He was a little unsteady on his feet, and peering at me closely, leaning in to my support till he was barely an inch from my face, he sighed lightly.
"Marie..."
Tears sprung in my eyes, and I nodded.
"Yeah baby. It's me. It's Marie."
With an even stronger sigh he grabbed me suddenly, strong arms sliding around me, burying his face in my hair. I was scared for a moment, scared he'd accidentally touch my ear or my neck, but with all my hair he was safe. Letting a curtain of that hair fall over his shoulder, I leant into the hold, embracing him tightly, letting the tears fall - but with relief this time.
That vulnerability I felt before was stronger now, and I revelled in it. I revelled, cause feeling that - it meant he was okay. I knew what it was. It was need. It was the feeling that lived in me, that said I couldn't be without him, not for a minute, not without knowing why he was gone or if he was okay. It was a roaring devotion that bound me to him, claimed every inch of my soul and made me weak and soft and fatalistic.
A part of me mourned as I lost that last shred of control, feeling the heat of his flesh sink through the thick leather, the hair under my cheek, knowing my life was nothing now if this man in my arms was not in it.
"What did they do ta you?" I breathed around my tears.
His only response was to shake his head fractionally with eyes that seemed flooded with torment.
I could have stood there all day in his arms, but now wasn't the time. I pulled away, taking in a parting breath, eyeing him purposefully.
"Logan - where did they put yer clothes?"
"Huhh..." I winced, moving his mouth, "Th-" He growled suddenly, cradling his head in a hand. Obviously they doped him up bad.
"Never mind..."
I grabbed at the army uniform that had been ridiculously baggy on me, sliding it onto his limbs as if he were a child I were dressing for school. I battled with his feet and edged on his pants (He couldn't seem to grasp the concept of pointing his toes so I could put on the pants), and I felt guilty as I liked what I saw when I slid them up over his hips. This was no time for me to be a pervert.
I patted the uppers of his arms, meeting his dazed look.
"You okay now? Nice and warm?"
He gazed at me blankly, then frowning a little, he nodded.
"Let's get you out of here."
Easier said than done, it seems. I got into the lift, shouting 'armageddon', doing my best to ignore the dead young man on the floor. Logan just stared at him like he'd never seen a dead body before. Every little thing he did, that wasn't like Logan brought to life a rage in me so great, I doubt anyone had ever known the like.
What worried me more was that the sliver of Logan inside of me was deathly still, as if stunned to silence. I hated it.
Once reaching the top level, I kept Logan at bay, waiting for bullets to rain in the door. Those bullets never came, and looking out I saw smoke. Smoke, gas -- I sniffed. Tear gas, that smell of kerosene had faded some. It was quieter though, and I was scared. Action meant people were busy, that I was free to move without too much care. Quiet meant a resolution, and I knew the X-Men weren't about to come out on top of whatever happened out there.
I looked to Logan. Like the piece of him inside of me, he was far too quiet. I wished he could give me some semblance of advice, but all he could do was stare with eyes loaded with agony and fear. That anger bubbled up in me again, at the wraith of a figure next to me that was supposed to be Logan, at the thought of what they could have done to him to turn him into this disturbed looking man.
Ripping the other door from it's home in the elevator wall, I ventured out into the open, Logan sandwiched between me and the metal door - well protected.
I remembered my way to the store-room, and from there it wasn't too hard to find the side door I entered in from. Worry squelched in my belly, and Logan's silence was continuing.
"Hang in there buddy," I mumbled, "We're nearly outta here."
He didn't respond.
The lack of guards was really beginning to get to me. I eased open the side service doors, the front quad of the complex in clear view from where we were.
The quad was to the brim with guards, surrounding two figures in the middle of it. One was large, blue, and crouched over a limp body with black hair. Beast.... I narrowed my eyes. Oh no... not Morph...
My mind whirled about the situation, trying to make sense of it - what could have happened here? What were the team thinking?
Distraction... must have been distraction. They knew I'd choose infiltration and subterfuge, as it was the best plan for someone on solo. Plus, they helped train me. You tend to get out what you put in.
Still sandwiching Logan in the door I eased him onwards with frantic steps, eager to get closer. I saw Beast stand, shaking his head. He looked devastated. He was the centre of my vision, centre of my mission. I wouldn't leave him alone to the guards.
It was as if my thought on that hit him in that instant, because as he searched the scene around him, as if looking for a reason why his comrade was fallen, he spotted me, and shook his head wildly. He saw the intent in my eyes, the bloodlust. I sped up as much as I could, ready to plough into the men and retrieve the captured X-Men. At my scurried steps, a few of the guards at the back turned and immediately saw me.
"HALT!"
"Rogue! Get AWAY FROM HERE!"
Guns where whipped out, and I clutched the door hard against Logan, looking around him, eyes wild as I met Beast's frantic glare.
"Ah can't LEAVE YA!!"
"You must RUN!" he cried, and I heard the safety latches of the guns clear.
Oh sweet Jesus...
"BEAST!"
"GO!!!"
No, no I couldn't. I looked to Logan, my eyes filled with tears. He blinked and looked at me, the weariness evident.
"R-" He opened and closed his mouth, growling at his inability to shape the words. "R-run bab-y."
Two guards seized Beast, conking him on the head with the butt of their guns. With an almighty roar from deep in my chest I jumped up and shot into the sky, still holding onto the metal door, cradling Logan in it. Bullets pelted the metal beneath us, denting it with an all too familiar 'tink tank tink', and I felt those awful blows to my limbs as I climbed higher in the sky.
"I'll come back Hank!" I called out on the top of my lungs, "I'll come back for ya!!"
Hank's figure was limp and a dead weight in the arms of the guards as they hauled him off. Morph hadn't moved the whole time I'd seen him.
I was soon too high to be reached by the guns, and one last glance at the scene set my stomach into a tight knot. It was utter robotic carnage. Parts of sentinels were scattered hither and thither, glittering in the sweeping glow of the floodlights. A few armoured vehicles were now twisted wreckage, and there was the odd guard laid out on the lawn, stained red.
I looked away from the mess, dropping the door into the forest of the National Park, not needing to look around to know the Blackbird had been reacquired. I hugged Logan tight to my chest, cradling him like a baby, nuzzling his hair with my cheek.
"You're safe now, Logan."
Silence answered me. I closed my eyes then, feeling tears spike my eyes. Morph was probably dead.
"Jesus," I breathed, "What have I done?"
~You know what you did.~
I took a shaky breath in.
/Not now, Professor,/ I thought, /I can't take that psychology shit right now./
~I merely wanted to make sure you were safe, my dear,~ he said right into my mind, ~And I am relieved you are okay.~
I sighed, blinking away the blur of tears.
/Morph is dead, Chuck. Why the hell couldn't they just fucking let me be to save Logan? That's why I went on my OWN, so no one else was hurt!/
~Morph chose to go on the rescue mission of his own free will, Rogue. No one is blaming you for his death.~
I responded in silence.
~No one but you, in any case.~
I sighed, hugging Logan tighter.
~How is Logan?~
/Doped to the gills and fucked in the head,/ I responded in my mind, not wanting to bother Logan with my mental discussion with Chuck by speaking my thoughts out loud. /I'll fill you in when I get to the Mansion./
Silence seeped into the moment, and while I was flying, the breeze whipping around me, the deep blue sky around me filled with stars, I couldn't believe I was returning from a partly failed mission and not a joy ride.
~You did a lot of damage tonight, Rogue. You saw the consequences of your brash actions.~
I sighed and nodded. /Yeah, yeah I know./
~You also proved much to me, much that couldn't have been proven other than in action.~
/Not worth a death and capture of our own though,/ I thought to him, /No where near./
~No, a discovery never is. But I know there will not be a repeat performance of this evening, will there?~
I caressed Logan's face gently, frowning at his haunted eyes that gazed off into the sky.
~I thought not.~
/I'm sorry Professor. I had to do it./
~I know Rogue, I know.~
I don't know how long I'd been flying once I reached Westchester, but I was starting to feel a little dizzy, and I was sinking lower in the sky. My head was throbbing, aching, it felt ten times it's normal size, and my limbs felt as if I'd run a marathon or two. Up ahead, I could see a silvery figure on the roof of the mansion, and long tresses of white hair whipping to and fro in the strong breeze. For some reason, my brain took that as permission to go to sleep, my powers of flight folding away from me, and still clutching onto a now unconscious Logan for dear life, I felt myself tumbling down to the ground.
There was no agonizing crash of limbs on the grass, no crushing pain as I fell to my peril below. Only a tightness around me, and the alluring scent of exotic oriental musk.
I wouldn't leave his side. Once I'd slept a few hours, I woke to the sound of heart monitors, to the smell of antiseptic. I nearly panicked, but a sweet flowery smell that was purely Jean calmed me. I wasn't in any government hospital facility, I was home. Home.
And under all that was the flesh and skin smell so close to me, of the man I'd nearly gone insane over, of the man I discovered I couldn't bear to live without.
I crawled out of my hospital bed, ripped off the heart monitor and staggered over to Logan despite my saline drip, grabbing a chair and sinking next to him, burying my face in the hospital blanket that covered him to his shoulders. He was fast asleep, seemingly unhurt, only a couple of bandages wrapping a spot on his arm and thigh. Maybe he got hit with bullets.
Bullets...
I looked over my own body. No flesh wounds, just deep sickly coloured bruising every colour of the damned rainbow. Sickly yellow, green, blue, deep spots of red. Okay, so bullets couldn't pierce me - they did a hell of a fine job knocking me around, I discovered. I had a plaster on my nose, and some little bits of sticky stuff on my bottom lip. Running my fingertips over it, I realised I must have split it somehow. During a fight maybe.
I curled close to Logan, closing my eyes, trying to let my body relax.
Like a punch to the gut, I remembered Morph's death.
I gripped the blanket, cursing as tears fell, snuffling and pressing my face into Logan's chest as he slept. Grief, and such terrible guilt swept over me. I thought to our talk in the security office, and that moment cracked my soul open like a coconut.
Sweet Jesus, I never said a word to him, and he thought I was angry at him.
"Rogue?!"
The voice was a gasp, panicked, and spinning around I held onto Logan tight. In the doorway to the infirmary, arms wrapped around her, thick fluffy light blue robe covering her body that wasn't clothed in a long night-gown was Jean. Her hands seemed to be shaking, and her warm light-brown eyes were fixed on me.
"I was in my room - the alarm went off that you flatlined..."
Stepping to the bed, she picked up the end of the heart monitor wire, sighing with relief.
"Sorry," I murmured, looking back to Logan, "I wanted to sit with him."
"That's okay, Rogue."
I sniffled, hiding my face, looking at his hand beneath my arms, all wrapped in bandage and stuck with the intravenous equipment. I heard the trundling of her office chair as she pushed it to my side, and without even making sure I was cool with it, she sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around me.
I wasn't angry. In a way, I was relieved. Guilt bit at me again.
"It's all my fault Jean. With Morph and Hank."
She sighed, sinking her head against my shoulder, rubbing my other one gently.
"Did you kill him yourself Rogue? Did you hand Hank over to the authorities?"
I snorted, looking away from her. "My insistence to save Logan sent you all out there. You could have been killed, the lot of you."
She nodded. "Yeah, you're right."
I blinked, looking down, feeling wrong for having Logan in my arms right now.
"You know, we were going to wait to go out again, to retrieve Logan." She pursed her lips together, narrowing her eyes. "Upon sensing his mental distress, I don't know if that was the best decision to make. We played it safe Rogue. That's what we do."
I nodded.
"I know I know, I should have-"
"I don't know if it was necessarily the right thing to do Rogue."
I opened my mouth in shock at her words, but she continued.
"Now, taking off with the Blackbird was wrong, you know that. Running off like you did - it could have ended in your death too."
She went quiet for a moment, as if to let her words sink in. All the time I gazed at Logan's sleeping form.
"But... that said... what Hank and Ronald did tonight... they would have done at any other time. If they didn't get captured or hurt saving you or Logan, it would have been on some other mission. Our lives revolve around personal risk, Rogue. Don't take the weight of that burden on your shoulders, especially when it's not yours to carry."
I glared at her, confusion falling through me. She sensed it, and smiled.
"They chose to go out there. They placed their lives on the line."
I nodded numbly.
"I was talking to Scott about the outcome of tonight. You went in there, you did minimal damage, you got Logan and you escaped. From reports, they didn't even know you were an X-Man."
"Ah concealed my uniform," I said, clutching Logan's hand nervously.
"That's smart of you Rogue," Jean said. "You're a woman of action, we've discovered, hmm?"
She squeezed me around the shoulders, leaning the side of her head to mine.
"We need that, very much. As long as you keep working within the team structure, you should be one of our more irreplaceable fully fledged members."
"Jean?"
I blinked uncomprehendingly, but Jean smiled.
"I talked to Scott about your valour this evening. As of today, you're a senior member of the X-Men. You'll do your duties with me and Storm, and Logan, and you'll be leading the junior members in their missions."
My jaw dropped. It was so bittersweet... so wrong.
"I can't accept that, Jean, I-"
She gave a smile, patting my shoulder. "Well, you think about it. Scott and I both really want you on the senior team. We wouldn't ask if we didn't think you were capable."
Nodding in a daze, and babbled a 'thank you.'
"Okay, I better get back before my husband goes on a rescue mission of his own."
I gave a shadow of a smile to that, and felt warm inside as the woman pressed a kiss against my hair.
"Night Rogue. Do get some sleep."
Sleep. Part of me still felt tortured, a small part. The most part of me felt sad, a little empty, like a light had been winked out in the mansion without warning or reason. Not that I knew Morph all that well, he wasn't really that important to my life. He was just a sweet guy that didn't deserve to die.
And Hank, poor poor Hank. Hank I adored, Hank I knew well, and Hank was now in the hands of the US military. I hated to think what they had in store for him. I felt a deep rooted, soul twisting dread for him.
This all stained my relief for Logan's safety a sad muted hue.
Then again, I hadn't seen him his good old self yet. He was still to wake up. I leant my head on his abdomen, to close my eyes a moment, just to rest.
I didn't expect consciousness to slip away so easily.
"Uuhn..."
I rubbed my face into the fabric underneath my face.
"Uhhnnn..."
That was too low to be my voice, and the sound rumbled through my head. What was I using as a pillow?
"Okay, thuh ness time uh go to kill seninels temme to stop..."
Groggy words, and lifting my head I met the groggy rolling eyes of Logan. Oh... I'd fallen asleep on him. I yawned, stretched, absently rubbing Logan's arm.
"Hey," I said softly, "How are you feelin'?"
He was silent for a long moment, and he gave a blink, looking away. I sighed, clutching his hand, laying my head on his chest.
"You came after me."
I glanced up, a heat rushing to my face as he mumbled those words, and I nodded.
"You didn't have to."
I swallowed thickly.
"Yes I did. Ah did."
He narrowed his eyes, "Why?"
I caught the lump in my throat, tilting my head, and I ran the backs of my glove-covered knuckles down the planes of his cheek.
"Cause. I just did." I shrugged, shook my head a little, blinked away the sharp pain in my eyes of tired eyelids. There were no words that could describe the distress I went through without him. I just looked at him, like I looked at him when I bought Ginseng, and he seemed to understand.
He nodded, taking my hand with his own shaking one, pulling my knuckles to his mouth and pressing his lips against them in a sleepy yet tender kiss. For a long moment he lay there, holding onto my hand, breathing deeply. He still had that haunted look on his face, and it made me angry, so angry. Maybe he sensed it, I dunno, but I felt his hand curl round the back of my head, pulling me in close to him, hugging me tightly as he braced my shoulder.
Finally, after everything, after agony, pain, grief... relief took front seat, stealing tears down my features. He probably smelt them, and his fingers dug into my shoulder a little.
"Ginseng was looking for you," I muttered, and glanced up to him, "I-" I swallowed, my chest jerking in a sob, "I had to tell her ya weren't here."
A crease dented his brow. "Shit-head just wanted to sit on my face again."
I had to smile at that, and I buried my face in his chest, letting the stress of the past days sob its way out of me. I had barely any control as the tears slipped down my face, and he just held me, squeezing me on and off, sometimes daring to run a hand through my hair. I couldn't help it, I had to mutter the words, after everything I'd been through...
"I love you," I sniffled, "I was scared. So scared."
He nodded, looking away, "Me too."
I knew it was no admission of true love, and I knew right now, we needed each other more than anyone else. It was enough just to be here, and just to know. He tilted my head up then, regarding me, and I licked my lips through a hiccup.
"I couldn't leave you Logan," I said. "I wanted you with me again."
He nodded at that, pulling my head back to the nape of his neck.
"Yeah, Marie," he rumbled, "I know the feeling."
Seeing Logan's condition must have brought it home to Scott why I didn't wait, why I didn't let the government have any more time with Logan that what they had. Every time I saw the guy his words and movements were laced with guilt, regret.
I was waiting for Logan to get changed so we could go for a walk and buy flowers for Morph's funeral when Scott made his way down the main hall, hands shoved in pockets, a pout of thought on his features. Seeing me, he straightened, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat a little.
"Hey Rogue," he said. "Whatcha doin'?"
I looked to the door I was waiting outside of, quirking the corner of my mouth.
"Waitin' for Logan," I said. "We're gonna get some flowers. You know. For Morph."
He nodded then, that familiar weight of sadness in his frame then. It happened to everyone when you mentioned the 'M' word. It was an immediate pull to the heart that touched everyone in the school. Scott seemed to gather himself up then, and he glanced to the door.
"How is Logan?"
I sighed, leaning my head on the door, running the back of a knuckle over it.
"Different," I said. "Quiet."
He frowned at that, just a little. I could see he didn't get it.
"They hurt him good, Cyke."
He nodded at that, shuffled his feet with that guilty air that was starting to annoy me.
"Look, about what happened-"
I shook my head at him. "If you're gonna apologize-"
"I don't apologize for command decisions," he said suddenly, his voice in that cool tone that screamed 'Leader'. He softened then, sighing. "I do apologize for not being more sensitive in how I told you. I was shaken up myself, but that's no excuse."
I nodded, then looked up at him through my lashes. "I'm sorry about Morph."
"He was doing his duty," Scott said, patting my arm, "Just like you were doing yours."
I closed my eyes, looking down, and I could feel Scott pulling away from the moment.
"I better get back to marking papers. I'll see you round, Rogue."
He squeezed my arm briefly and I smiled a little at him, the slightest lifting of the corners of my mouth, and he set off down the hall. Before I had a chance to mull over what was said, the door behind me swung open.
"Ready."
The wafting smell of shampoo and wet skin and hair enveloped me, and turning around, I smiled at the pervadee of the comforting scent.
"Hey."
He glanced to me, sliding on a jacket. "You know where we can get good flowers?"
I nodded.
Without a word he slung his arm around mine, tangling his fingers amongst my gloved ones, pulling out a cigarette and wedging it in his mouth. Everything he did though - he did it differently. Where-as before he moved with a carelessness and aggression that oozed of confidence... now he seemed unsure. Afraid. He didn't show fear like other people, and nobody else could probably tell.
I could tell. I could tell in the way his eyes avoided nice things. The way they were always full of emotion, but guarded. The way his bottom lip never seemed to relax, as if he were in effort some how.
When we were alone, he slept, or lay in my arms. His eyes would go from guarded to far away. He never told me why.
I really knew he was in pain when Ginseng curled up on his chest, and he didn't bat her off and growl. He held her, as if she were a treasured thing, cradling the little body and pressing his lips together firmly. When I looked to him questioningly, he grew still.
"She's never known anything bad in her life. Except when I growl at her."
"Hey," I said, sliding an arm around him, "She knows you love her."
Most people thought Logan hated the cat, but I knew better. I knew how he felt. He looked at me then, brows tilted up, his bottom lip jutting out as the thinnest sheen of tears rimmed his eyes.
That was this morning. Now we walked through the Mansion, the usual close happy air darkened and sombre. Perhaps there were a couple of resentful glances to me by those that didn't know what really went on. I knew it was a part of grieving, to find blame and believe in it. It wasn't important to me by any means.
The man next to me was the centre of my world, and for the first time in my life, I didn't feel ashamed to feel devoted to him.
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Story Notes:
Thanks to Gowdie, Molly and all those people that promised to give me feedback on the story but never actually got back to me in time. Sorry girls, I'm impatient. Time is money. Or something like that anyway. Dedicated to my darling cat, Xena. You were gone from me for a whole day, and I went crazy without you. Your sweetness, vivacity, spirit and love complete me. I know you're 'just a cat', but to me, you make my world. I love you, bubby. And to Rat-Cat. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you, I did the best I could. I hope you're happier in heaven, sweety-pie. Your friend, Nacey.
~ means Charles Xavier's Supertravelling Low Cost Phonecall Thoughts [tm]
/ means Rogue's inefficient but serving personal thoughts [not tm]