The scene was a tempest of flames, the screams of men and women mingling with the roar of weapons echoing against the battered buildings that made up the military complex. The complex sat in the centre of towering razor-wired walls, which they'd landed inside of, and the lawn quad was now the stage of a rather fierce battle. The X-Men filed out of the distanced craft, Cyclops striding ahead with a determined set in his lips.
"We're going in. Rogue - stay by Wolverine. Storm, you keep an eye on them in case Magneto shows up. We should stop the intruders before it gets that far."
The group ran on towards the battleground, and Rogue felt a clashing of emotions inside of her. Her lips trembled as Wolverine gripped her hand and dragged her along. He was stronger than he realised, but the hold was warming.
"Stay close," he growled, "I may have to fight some people off."
"Ah got these," she said darkly, lifting her bare hands. He lifted a brow and grit his teeth.
"I don't want you using it unless you have to, Rogue. The last thing you need is more jerks in your head!"
"Ah dunno," she shrugged, "I kinda like you rattlin' round in there."
She saw the older man shake his head, striding headlong. Cyclops fiddled with the side of his visor, sending out blasts towards figures floating in the air, radiating bands of energy. Rogue felt the blast of hot air as more flames shot up from the building, her heart thumping wildly.
"This is a God-damn war zone!" Wolverine barked out to Cyclops.
Cyclops hadn't the opportunity to respond as he blasted at offending mutant bodies. A strange feeling settled on Rogue as she watched her comrades plunge themselves into battle. Humans ran back and forth, shooting weaponry, other figures flipping, contorting, grasping and bending nature to their will, overpowering with a thought. It seemed to only serve as a massacre, a great destruction of human lives for the joy of it alone. It would make sense, for what the X-Men treasured, they would fight for. And there were plenty of mutants around to kill people, and few around to stop them. Fear was the thing that tickled the young girl's stomach, and she trailed after Logan, her eyes fixed on him always. A sudden cool breeze brushed her cheek, and she glanced upwards, heart frozen in caution - someone was coming. A dark lilting shape moved through the flickering smoke-dappled air above them, and Rogue crouched, her muscles tight and prepared.
"Logan," she cried over the noise, "Look out!"
Wolverine glanced up, hunching, claws extending with a metallic clink. The curved form of a woman floated down swiftly, heeled boots lashing. A metal-tipped toe clipped Logan in the jaw, and he staggered, crouching over and nursing a bruised jaw only momentarily before sweeping back up with a springing leap and smashing the woman in the face with an unclawed fist. She hated being useless, watching her friend do all the fighting. Oddly, it was like one of those bad westerns where the guys were punching each other silly and the woman stood by with a whiskey bottle, ready to smash it over the villain's head if she had the chance.
The woman, body sleek in tight pleather (probably to aid her flight) leapt and kicked. Wolverine ducked with a grunt, grabbing the leg whilst it was over him and throwing the woman over his head. She landed on the ground with an 'ooph', but her other leg clamped against him from the other side, sandwiching him between her limbs. With a flip of her body she sent him over on his head, his body crumpling to the ground only a moment. The woman rolled to her feet, her soft blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, her large dark eyes twinkling in the devastation around her. Logan was still on the ground, his movements slow. He pulled himself to his feet groggily, the gnashing leer of effort on his haggard features.
"Logan!"
"I'm okay!" he shouted, ducking as the woman sent another smashing punch towards him, "This bitch is strong."
"Thank you," the woman said before sending a firm smack into Wolverine's face. His body flew backwards untold metres into a discarded burning tank nearby, slumping onto the ground.
She tilted her head as she stalked before him, a fascinated smile on her features, "You must be Wolverine. Magneto told me you would be a difficult adversary."
Wolverine slowly propped himself up from the ground, gritting his teeth as his body worked at healing itself, "I'd hate to disappoint."
"Oh, no fear," cooed the woman, crouching before him and gearing for his next assault. With a grunt of impatience she sent a punch to his gut, which he deflected, but in blocking her arm he created an opening. She sent her fist slamming into his stomach, and as he bent over she grabbed at his neck, lifting him up in the air and pinning him against the wall of an abandoned tank.
His hand shot out, catching hers, gripping her as she gripped him, the man's eyes bulging as the woman squeezed tighter. He kicked at her, and she laughed, pressing her body down over his, somehow smothering him, his hands pinned against his chest and crushed in her iron grip.
Rogue could see he was stuck. She could see this woman was stronger than he was, and something in her broke as a look of pure desperation flitted across Logan's face.
Marie sprang over a discarded body, her feet pounding at the earth of the instillation's once well-kept gardens, the slowly crumpling figure of her closest companion losing the battle against the steely woman in front of him. Her hands trembled as she leapt upon the woman, grabbing her face. The woman's neck snapped back, her eyes flinging open as the poison touch began to drain her. Flesh. It was so odd to feel it. So soft, supple. It was the sleek perfect skin of a woman, and it only took a tiny moment before it began to ripple with the straining of veins that fought to keep the essence of life within them.
"No," Wolverine struggled, trying to get up, "NO! Marie!"
She could see the hand of the woman still clenched around Wolverine's throat, holding on with a deadly determination.
"Let GO OF HIM!" she growled, her eyes spilling with tortured tears.
The woman leered, looking back to Rogue, her eyes fluttering weakly, "I shall kill him, as you kill me," she said, "The longer you hold onto me, the sooner he dies."
Wolverine grunted, his fingers scraping franticly at the hand that clamped onto his throat, his eyes glazing over, the only action he could play a slow but desperate shake of his head as he gazed at Rogue through dying eyes. Tears welled in the young woman's eyelids, an angry sob leaving her, her hands grabbing at the woman's face and yanking with all her might. Her hands slipped at the woman's iron strength, and Marie tumbled backwards, the hard earth pounding her body as she rolled. The super-strength endowed woman staggered back at the suddenly strong tug, her teeth gritting at the blood that lined her cheeks from Rogue's angry fingernails.
Logan's unconscious body slipped onto its side, slow heavy breaths moving the leather-clad ribcage.
Rogue hadn't time to watch him for long as the long legged villainess took weak steps towards her, her dark eyes flashing with a deathly rage.
"Trying to steal my soul, little girl?" the woman said, "How interesting. You must be the one he talks about all the time. The one that haunts him."
Rogue grit her teeth, clutching her head as she felt the cold painful claws of the woman's mind seep into hers, dank, distorted thoughts haunting her own. A wracking sob broke from her as she shook her head at the woman.
"You're talkin' about him - about Erik?"
Her adversary tilted her head and smiled, "Aah, you speak of him as if you were familiar with him." The woman paced gracefully, her strength slowly seeping back into her movements.
"Familiar is one word for it," Rogue said shortly, "When they're in your head."
The woman didn't look like she belonged here. She looked like she belonged on a cigarette packet from the nineteen-fifties, or more suitably selling cigarette packets from that era. It was then that she attempted to pace past Rogue, to Logan. Rogue shot a hand out, her eyes sharp and burning into the woman in front of her.
"No Carol," Rogue breathed darkly, "He ain't for you. I think you should go home. Home to your Momma."
'Carol' gnashed her teeth, her eyes flying open wide at the words from the girl, her gloved hands knotting into fists.
"You got that from my head? Hmm? Soaked it up like a sponge?" Carol stepped forward, perilously close to Rogue, her nose nearly tipping the younger girl she towered over by a few inches, "Well, little girl. As fascinating as this has been, I have a job to do. So you can move, and let me finish off the beast-man, or you can join him in death."
Rogue narrowed her eyes, her hands balling to fists, "If you think you're goin' anywhere NEAR Logan, you're fairly mistaken."
Carol tipped her head, "So be it."
Without any ceremony Carol surged forward, pummeling into Rogue, toppling her over and over on the ground, her hands pounding the little body underneath her. Great swaths of agony swept over the girl, her eyes blurring with fresh tears as strength untold tenderized her insides. She turned her head only slightly before having it slapped back in the other direction, catching a glimpse of a very unconscious Wolverine on the ground. Oh God, may he be okay.
She felt the cold hand that gripped her cheek, shrouded in pleather, safe from her, bruises sinking into her porcelain features.
She was going to die if she didn't move; she could feel it, in the mash of her muscles and skin that bled from the woman's blows. And if she died, Logan would be alone. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, the slow crawl of it's breaking sending a wrack of pain throughout her. A hand, bare, crept up so slowly to her face, so stealthily that the woman didn't see. Not until it was too late.
"AUGH!"
Rogue winced, tears streaming down her features, her hands grabbing the woman's face tight. The energy streamed into her, bursting through her veins. She felt the thoughts; fears, agony and hate spill into her mind as her skin soaked the woman up into her. She heard a gasp behind her, low, masculine, and she turned her head long enough to see Wolverine had come round. He couldn't move though... his legs lay useless, though he crawled forward slowly.
"No - stop!"
"Oh too late," grinned the woman, her voice barely a rasp, her body curled underneath Rogue's hands, "Isn't it little girl..." She still struggled with Rogue, her plastic-clad fingers wrapping around the soft delicate neck, "We'll see who wins the struggle... what survives... my strength or your poison..."
Rogue's mouth dropped open, her efforts to breath little more that guttural rasps. She looked to Logan helplessly.
"Fight her Kid!" he yelled, "KILL HER!"
Carol tilted her brows up, her lips curving in a tearful smile, "Such savage words spoken so - UNGH! TEnd-er-ly," she struggled with Marie's wriggling hands, both of them twisting uneasily in their death-lock, "You are his weakness. I think you will destroy him."
Anger flitted within her, and with a growl the girl crushed the face under her hands, tears running hot from her eyes, something within her snapping - she willed it. Oh she willed every single sap of energy from the bitch of a woman. Almost in tandem the silver slivers of Wolverine's claws burst through the top of Carol's chest, the hot sting of the woman's lifeblood splashing against Rogue's face. She felt the constant barrage of energy jolt finally within her, and fear grasped her.
Oh God. She'd ... she'd killed her.
Rogue sobbed, trying franticly to scramble away from the dead body that lay on top of her, pinning down her suddenly helpless body. She was trapped by death. Oh God...
"Get her away!" she cried, her voice wavering, "Get her away from me!"
Rogue shook violently at the heavy weight of the dead woman in her arms, and finally she kicked, crawling backwards, the limp weight rolling off her. She kicked away again, and glancing back caught the cold eyes of her deceased attacker.
All she could do was stare. It was wrong - so very very wrong. No - this woman, this gorgeous intoxicating woman had been FLYING and beating the SHIT out of her and now she was... oh God she was nothing now - something and now nothing, moving and now gone, forever.
Strangely, something sentimental in her cried out for losing something so dear to her.
Two strong hands gripped the shoulders of Carol, lifting her up into a pair of arms... Wolverine. The loping figure of her companion dragged the wrongly familial body off and dropkicked the now lifeless corpse onto a pile of bodies with a savage snarl.
All Rogue could see was her life. Her body buzzed uncomfortably, and she clutched her head, frantic whimpers coming from somewhere... it took her a minute to realise it was her. When she'd been looking at that body... she'd been Carolyn Danvers.
Fear broke within her, a mad scramble crashing through her brain. She rolled over, clawing up to her feet and glancing around herself madly.
"LOGAN!" A sob rose within her, wild fear rising, "LOGAN! Oh GOD where are ya?"
Large hands clutched her sides, deep hazel eyes connecting with hers as he swept her around from where he'd come from. OH GOD yes... sanity... calm there had to be some calm in there...
"I'm here - I was just -" He stopped, a chill ripping through him as he saw Marie's eyes. They were wide with fear, and worse, devastation. Complete and utter. He could feel her little body shaking, see her lips purse and shudder, her eyes lined with the red of tears. He wiped his gloves on his sides, ridding them of the blood before cradling her jaw, looking back into her eyes. "Hey, kid, talk to me - you okay?"
Another whimper lifted from her, hands clutching her skull, her heart crushed under the new weight that bombarded her, "L-Logan... Hohhh GOD...." She shook her head, pushing herself away from Logan and in the process falling to the ground. Her fingers dug at her skull, helplessness and torment wracking her. "Oh, GOD! Get her out of mah HEAD!"
Logan dragged her to her feet, hugging her tightly, "Shh shh shh... It's okay Marie... baby listen to me... Marie..."
She couldn't listen. His words bounced off her and she just - oh damn that agony, so much of it. She buried her head in Logan's chest, just praying damn it that the crashing panic in her head would just STOP. She knew it couldn't though, no no never could cause the second she DID she would be at peace and NEVER could she be at peace with the new animal in there - the beast the killer - oh GOD.
"Marie?" he asked.
"She - God no," She squinted, sobbing.
"Marie-"
"No," Marie clenched her teeth in determination, "Cah- Carol. Binary. Her code-name was Binary, and I killed her."
"Bullshit," He tilted her face up, staring directly into her eyes, so close she could feel his breath on her face, "I killed her. My claws through her chest."
An empty smile flitted on Rogue's face. "I was gone long before that, Wolverine."
"Marie?"
Rogue's expression wrinkled to fear and she cowered against him, hanging in his hold once more.
He shuddered, and clutching the limp body to him, he turned to survey the scene they'd somehow been knocked out of. He could see the black fluttering shape of Storm soaring high, her eyes flashing in the newly formed clouds around her. Cyclops blasted away near the entrance of the complex, Beast only now racing towards the power-box. Wolverine looked down to Rogue who hung in his arms, her eyes far off.
"Ya can't go in there like this," he said, "I'll take you back to the Blackbird."
"No!" Something burst through the chaos in Rogue's mind, and gripping the leather, she glared at him with everything. "No, Logan, I gotta go in there, help you guys, I'm the only one that can! You said!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!" she said, "Come on - Cyclops needs us!"
He nodded, grabbing her hand, pulling her forwards to the front entrance to the installation. As he ran, he could keenly hear her feet pounding the decimated lawn, her soft breaths rasping into the late afternoon air, and he held onto her hand, making sure she was behind him. He would occasionally give her a tight squeeze, to encourage her to fasten her pace, and he nearly let out a girly 'ow' at the grip she gave him back. For a moment he thought someone had knocked her away and taken her place, but glancing back, surely enough - it was her. He frowned at her only a moment, figuring she must have put all her weight on his hand by accidentally tripping or some such. He could hear Cyclops' voice calling out over the tumult now, and he skidded to a halt next to the fearless leader.
"Hi."
He knew that if he had the chance, Cyclops would have glared at him.
"Where they HELL where you? Ororo and I are doing all the damned work!"
"I was saving her ass!" Wolverine growled, thumbing towards a lost looking Rogue.
"I told you not to bring her," he said.
Wolverine felt a rage prickling under his skin and he grit his teeth, "She was by my side you jerk, *I* was the one attacked! She saved my Goddamned LIFE!"
Cyclops jumped forward, a blast bursting from his visor, "Fine. Go do your job before you get in the damned way!"
He grit his teeth at the younger man, grabbing Rogue's hand and pulling her forward, "Thanks, Bub!"
He crouched in the war zone, weaving between wrecked tanks and over-turned police cars, his eyes on the small shed that served as the installation power-box. Inside was the large black and blue shape of Hank McCoy, The Beast, his long fingers twiddling with various wires. He'd been instructed to take out the power and thusly automatically seal the doors. He grunted at him, poking the man in the shoulder.
"You not done yet?"
"This is a vastly superior security system developed by the government's leading scientists," said the young man, glancing at him only briefly. "Relieving it of its power without the proper clearance is a delicate operation."
"Ugh," grunted Wolverine again, "Right... yeah." With a 'chink' he unsheathed his claws, and gave a fierce swipe to the wires leading out of the generator Beast was gutting piece by piece. Sparks burst into the air, Wolverine letting out a yelp as a bolt of electricity sent him falling backwards onto his rear.
"That wasn't particularly wise," said Beast, a soft frown on his blue-grey face.
"No shit," growled Wolverine, "Power down!"
"Doors not necessarily automatically sealed," replied Beast.
Wolverine's lips tensed, his hands clutching the ground, his ears practically pricking. "Do you hear that?"
Rogue looked around herself, "Hear what?"
His eyes sparkled in caution, "Rumbling..."
"I don't hear-"
Sound stopped for the briefest of moments, eardrums almost bursting as a deafening wall of sound slammed Rogue back, Wolverine and Beast tumbling over near her.
She narrowed her eyes into the explosion as grit and rubble burst from the doorway to the complex, Cyclops taking a tumble at the blast. Rogue ran forward from the power-box, eyes out for Jean and Storm. In the sky the fluttering black and silver spectre of her friend swooped down to meet the white-clad figure standing untouched in the huge bite taken out of the building. Silver hair and tired old eyes looked back at the X-Men as they staggered to their feet, Cyclops rubbing his head gingerly. Rogue felt her feet moving fast, her heart thumping wildly. Rage was suddenly engulfing her at the sight of this man. She'd never examined her feelings towards the destructive twisted old soul that stood not twenty metres from her, she was always too angered, too pained. Tonight, Wolverine nearly slipped away from her again, and it was THIS man's fault. Around him hovered a few young Mutants, the dead Binary slumped over the shoulder of one of them. His eyes barely flickered at the sight of the dead Mutant, and he cast a steely gaze to the X-Men, looking more annoyed than anything.
"Rogue! Get BACK here!"
She glared at the old broken man, venom in her stance, her jaw clenching slowly. The world suddenly swept up around her as strong arms grabbed her, pulling her back and away, the spicy scent of the unfashionable cologne and the way those arms felt around her letting her know exactly who it was without even having to look.
Cyclops stepped forward, hands planted firmly on hips, standing between the gaping bite out of the building that used to be the front entrance, and the rest of the world. His lips were set hard, his voice level.
"What do you think you're doing, Magneto?"
Magneto gazed at him with a dour frown, the light sniggers of his surviving mutant comrades backing him.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, "I'm leaving."
"We can't let you do that," Cyclops said. Storm angled down from the low-lying clouds, her cape fluttering around her as she approached Magneto with a menacing glow of her eyes. The wind whipped up at the rising of the woman's arms, her elegant gait threatening like the steady lope of a hungry wild cat. Jean-Grey wasn't far behind.
Magneto tipped his head as Storm drew close, a fascination in his features.
"Do you know what makes up much of the underground structure of this holding facility, Ms. Monroe?"
Storm glared at him, her face not moving an inch.
Magneto rose, the odd sight of an old man in white pyjama-like clothes floating into the air losing all comedic value at the shuddering energy that seemed to seize everything around them. Storm staggered back, the ground shaking, and she lifted her hands, forcing a gale at the man who didn't seem to budge an inch. She felt herself buckle, and looking to Cyclops she looked terrified.
"Jean! Give me a hand here!"
Jean ran forward, hands outstretched, her eyes fixed to Magneto. She fought to counteract his powers, her lips tense, hands quivering at the energy. Absurdly, Magneto flicked a hand, flinging the woman back against the ground. She could barely stand for the quaking, her eyes growing wide.
"Scott," she cried, "He's ripping up the installation from the inside out - we have to get out of here!"
He clenched his teeth, "Rogue can still-"
"LOOK at her Scott," she shouted, "Rogue can't do a thing!"
He glanced to the young girl hanging limply against Wolverine's frame, her eyes empty.
"We have to retreat!"
He gave an impatient sigh, meeting Ororo's frantic gaze. "RETREAT! Let's get to the Blackbird... fight this baby with some technology!"
Magneto still rose up into the air, now some way from the ground, his companions floating with him. There only seemed to be flying mutants on this mission. Perhaps the earth-bound ones had already escaped.
Rogue felt herself being bustled into the Blackbird, Wolverine's gloved hands always near hers. She barely registered the contact, or even where she was. The X-Men filed into the Blackbird, barking commands and suggestions to each other. All she could do was sit with a blank expression on her face, Wolverine strapping her into her seat with a paternal force that disturbed her somewhat. She felt those gloved hands on her face again, directing her lost gaze down.
"Marie, Marie, look at me."
She dragged her eyes down to meet his, his face twisted in worry and fear. It amused her somehow. This man... he was her saviour, her invincible saviour, and he was afraid.
"You feeling alright? You're not hurting anywhere?"
A curl of a distant smile curved her cupid-bow lips, "I'm fine." He saw her glance behind him.
"You know what happens when you don't wear your seatbelt, Logan..."
Cyclops glanced back from the front seat, "Wolverine - sit your ass down!"
Wolverine grit his teeth, glaring at Rogue, "Did that pussy-boy just swear at me?"
"I'd say so."
He sighed, and kissed the top of her head briefly before retreating to his seat, strapping himself in hastily as the Blackbird shook at the sudden developing G-force. He leant back in his chair, always glancing back to Marie, heart wrenching at the hollow gaze she cast at the wall next to her.
The ship around him bucked, shuddered, and Wolverine clutching onto the edge of his chair.
"Cyclops - what the hell is going on?"
The trim man in black shrugged, "I have no idea. I can see Magneto ahead - there's a lot of atmospheric disturbance around him. Storm, can you calm it down out there?"
"No problem," she purred, her eyes turning a luminescent white.
The haze at the window folded back, the dark figures a small distance away from the nose of the plane.
"Here's an energy blast to go home with," mumbled Cyclops, fingers dancing over switches and buttons at the control panel. From the nose of the craft burst a red bolt of light that sizzled and careened through the darkening sky. A chill struck Wolverine when the bolt split and curved, sliding around the old man like plasma inside of those glass spheres that he'd seen in tourist shops a thousand times.
"One-Eye, we better get the hell out of here and fast," he said gritting his teeth. "My bones are achin'."
Cyclops glanced back at Wolverine only a moment, his mouth edged open in alarm. His hands slammed the controls, his head shaking darkly. "This guy has to be fallible somehow..."
"He's not."
Silence fell in the craft, all eyes turning to a deathly serene Rogue. She shifted her eyes to Cyclops, lips quivering only slightly.
"He's not fallible. Not like this, with powers. The only way to get at him is here," She tapped the side of her head.
Cyclops didn't have to ask twice how she knew, even once wasn't necessary. The man struggled with the craft's controls, the figures floating in the air coming suddenly closer.
"Cyclops, move our asses, man!" Logan growled, "Those guys are getting closer, and you remember what Helmet-Head did with the back end of that train!"
"I'm trying," grunted Cyclops, pulling hard on the joystick, "Something's keeping us fixed here..."
"Magneto," Jean murmured.
Wolverine snorted, "No shit."
"That's not constructive," Cyclops muttered.
"Scott, just try and get us out of here," said Jean.
The visor-clad man nodded, pulling hard on the joystick, the ship shuddering violently. The sole man clad in white not so far from the ship grimaced, his hand lifted and curling. With a final shake of effort, he fisted his hand tightly.
The ship groaned slowly, rivets popping from their holes in the craft and pinging off the ground in musical tings.
"Jean!"
Jean glanced to Scott, "I'm trying to hold the ship together the best I can!"
"UGHN! I nearly got it!"
Pain ripped through Logan, his bones crumpling inside of him. He felt an almost tangible heat at the side of his head, and turning it stiffly he saw Rogue, her eyes wide and stuck on him. Wolverine looked to the front windows. The white clad man turned in the now deep blue sky, his posse of floating bodies following him like lazy dark birds soaring to the south. He let out a hot breath, clenching his seat.
"I think - I think he's pissing off now," he grunted, "About time too."
Cyclops nodded, "Yeah, the jet is swerving now - come on Birdy..."
A great lurch went through his stomach as the jet swerved away, the scenery out the window swirling past in a flash of dulled dusky colours. A soft voice spoke to him.
"Are you okay?"
He looked behind him to the girl in her chair, clutching at the buckles on her seatbelt, eyes soft in caution. For the first time in an hour, she looked as innocent and vulnerable as when he spotted her in the bar. He nodded haggardly.
"I'm fine, kid."
He could almost taste the relief that exuded from the young woman, her body slackening in the chair. She looked exhausted. Her eyelids drooped and her body slumped. He just wanted to curl her up in his arms and put her to bed. That's exactly what he'd do when they got back to the mansion, too.
Jean glanced back to Rogue, her eyes sharp.
"What happened to her?"
Wolverine looked to her, swallowing, "One of Magneto's goons tried to kill her. She made short work of her."
Alarm lifted in the telekinetic's brown eyes. "She what?"
"She just meant to get her off me," said Logan, "But when she knocked her off, I was unconscious. Next thing I knowI see the crazy bitch pinning Rogue to the ground and strangling her. Rogue was clever enough to touch her."
"We're nearly home," said Cyclops suddenly. "The Professor isn't going to be happy about this."
Jean sighed, shaking her head, "I don't think there was much else we could do. We were out-numbered and out-forced."
"Sometimes you gotta know when to back off," Wolverine said, "And come back when you're fighting fit and have the advantage."
"Let's just hope the Professor sees it that way," said Cyclops, tone low.
Wolverine could see the guy was bummed. It was no surprise to him seeing Scotty-boy hated to lose. In the mere month or so that he'd been back with the X-Men, no fewer than 8 disturbances broke out, and Wolverine had been with the team every time to settle it. They hadn't lost a one, and he knew they hadn't lost many, if at all, before this either. Jean would lick his wounds, (lucky damned son-of-a-bitch) and Scott would be right back into it the next time, he knew. Casting his gaze back to his young companion, an icky warmness spread in his chest. He wasn't so sure how little Rogue would be. Little. She wasn't looking so little in the black leather, but damn could he see it in her sweet brown eyes. Sweet brown eyes? he snorted to himself, You're sounding like a damned romance novel. And romance and the Kid don't go together!
Somehow, as time rolled on, he kept losing those reasons why this was so, just forgetting them or failing to see the sense in them anymore, and little things would pop up where he'd feel thoroughly disturbed at himself. Well, maybe not so little. He clamped his eyes shut and berated himself again. This was ridiculous, and the way home from a mission was not the place to be having inner battles with one's hormones.
The only thing he concerned himself with was wrapping Rogue up safe and sound in a blanket and taking her to the infirmary.
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