She could hear them talking about her again. It had been going on all semester, from the first class really. Comments about her hair, her clothes, her gloves. Even her quietness, and on the rare occasions when she did speak, they would inevitably mimic her accent in their mocking comments. She always ignored them – never said anything or did anything. She didn’t even look at them. but today was different. Today, their comments were pissing her off and she was getting ready to do something about it as their mockery continued.
“I mean, the way she dresses is bad enough,” the bleach-blonde, bubble-gum snapping girl named Monique continued, “but those tacky dog tags she wears? Puh-lease! What – is she some sort of war refugee and she wears them to remember the brave American soldier who saved her life?” Jennifer and Rachel, the two girls always trailing after Monique stifled giggles behind their hands as their other regular companion, Todd, merely rolled his eyes. Monique nodded her frizzy head. “I know, right? That’s just impossible. She’s just some goth-wannabe who thinks it’s cool to wear tags. And the way she’s always hanging onto them is just ridiculous. I mean, get the girl a security blanket or something. At least that’s kinda normal.”
The girls’ snickers increased and Jennifer managed to choke out, “Yeah, for a two year old! But seriously, Mon, she wears all that weird crap so she doesn’t look normal. And what’s with the way she acts? Always jumping away whenever somebody bumps into her and tensing up when somebody walks by? It’s just an act so people notice her.”
By this point in the overheard conversation, Rogue was clutching Logan’s tags so tight in her gloved fist that the word “Wolverine” was probably indented into her palm. When Rachel chimed in with her theory that Rogue had stolen the tags from a crush she was stalking, Rogue whipped around to face them, a growl on her lips. As her muscles tensed in readiness to launch her toward the annoying trio, Rogue saw that Todd was silently observing her. She froze, her right hand still gripping Logan’s tags as her eyes met his warm brown ones. He held her gaze for several seconds more, and when the girls' snickers devolved into barely restrained snorts of mirth, he mouthed, “Sorry,” and turned away to face the professor who had just entered the front of the classroom. Rogue's muscles relaxed and her right eyebrow quirked upward in confusion, a habit she had absorbed from Logan and never seemed to lose.
The professor loudly cleared his throat several times and waited until the room fell silent. He then launched into a monotone lecture on psychological theories of transference that lulled no fewer than a dozen students into sleep. Rogue, as usual, took careful notes, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed by the professor’s teaching methods. Every day, he would just come in and talk at them for the required period of time before clearing his throat again, no doubt to wake the sleeping students, and remind them that their assignment for the next class was on their syllabus and to please leave this week’s homework on the corner of his desk as they filed out of the room. She was undoubtedly spoiled by the interesting and varied teaching strategies she had benefited from at Xavier’s, so she tried not to hold her relative boredom against Professor Bixler. In all fairness, she did learn a great deal in his classes, and she wouldn’t have been comfortable in a more energetic setting anyway, surrounded as she was by non-mutants who had no idea of her condition. Rogue’s almost mindless transcription of the day’s lecture was interrupted, as expected, by the professor’s habitual “a-hem”-ing. She flipped her notebook closed and slipped her pen into the spiral binding. As she reached for her backpack on the floor beside her, the professor lifted his hand in a “wait, please” gesture, and Rogue straightened back up, leaving her bag where it was.
“You’ll notice,” he said, “that your syllabus says ‘project’ this week and for the next couple of weeks as well. These projects will actually be written and visual reports that you will present in class.” Unsurprisingly, his announcement was met with groans and several “boos” from the class. Professor Bixler waved his hand again, this time in a quelling gesture, and continued with probably the first hint of emotion they had ever heard from him. “I know, I know. Everybody hates presentations. But deal with it, people. Public speaking is a fact of life. And while you may never enjoy it, and you may never be enthusiastic when speaking,” here he raised both eyebrows and looked pointedly around the room, “you need to at least learn to be comfortable enough in front of a group so that you don’t freeze up. I’m going to make it easier on you, though, and let you work in groups of five. I have taken the liberty of assigning these groups, and I’ll be taping the list up here on the board in just a moment. The groups are non-negotiable, people. I don’t care – and neither will any future employer for that matter – if you have to work with someone you don’t like. Deal with it and get the work done. Whatever grade the group as a whole receives is the grade that each group member will get. We will not meet for the next three classes. Instead, you will use that time to work on your projects. Your first group meeting is to take place at the library next week during our normal class time, and believe me, I will be camped out at the library entrance taking attendance as you come in, so don’t even think about skipping out or being late. As a matter of fact, how about a free gift? The assignment due today, one that a number of you have undoubtedly neglected to do, as usual,” there were some nervous giggles from several students, “is now due next Thursday. You may hand it to me at the library. The next two class periods after that, I don’t care where you go or what you do. You can meet as often or as little as you like – you can even meet before next Thursday if you’re feeling ambitious enough – but two weeks from today, on the 16th, you will be here in class ready to present. If you have any questions in the meantime, you can email me or see me during my regularly scheduled office hours.” He held up a thick stack of paper. “These are the project guidelines. Please take one for each member of your group.” Clearing his throat twice more, Bixler dropped the papers on the desk with a dull thwacking sound and turned to tape the group list to the board behind him. He grabbed his briefcase and quickly escaped the room before the first rush of students reached the board. Rogue snatched her backpack up from the floor and held it to her chest, her elbows held tight to her sides as her classmates streamed by her. She had no intention of joining the cramped knot at the front of the room until it thinned out enough to avoid any accidental contact. While she could usually control her skin, she was not confident in an unrestrained crowd. She scoffed at herself. Yeah, in an unrestrained crowd and even just walkin' down an almost empty hallway. A coward, that’s all Ah am. Walkin' around the mansion is one thing. Even without mah gloves they all know to keep their distance, but here…Ah don’t even wanna think about it.
An excited squeal from the front of the room drew Rogue’s attention. Monique was standing in front of the group list clapping her hands happily, although Rogue noticed that she was not so excited as to forget about her perfectly manicured nails. She kept the fingers of both hands stiffly curved outward so the sharp tips of her nails wouldn’t be chipped from hitting against each other. Monique squealed a second time before exclaiming, “This is great! We’re all in the same group. Professor Bixler must have a crush on me or something, don’t you think?” Jennifer picked up the squeal and nodded her head while Rachel leaned in for a closer look at the list.
“Ooh! Look, girls, Todd is with us too!” Rogue was amused to note that Todd didn’t look too happy at the announcement, but his slightly clenched jaw and forced smile were lost on the girls as they let loose with a chorus of high pitched squeals. Rogue barely contained a snort of laughter as Todd flinched and lifted his hand to press against his right ear. The slight smirk that had made its way to her lips disappeared when Rachel tapped the list with a finger and said, “But who’s this Rogue person?”
Aw, ya gotta be shittin’ me, Rogue thought furiously. Nothin’ Ah can do about it though, since the prof said the groups were non-negotiable. Might as well get this over with then. Standing smoothly and slinging her backpack onto her right shoulder all in the same movement, Rogue announced loudly, “Ah am.” She was somehow horribly amused at Monique’s look of distaste, her cherry-red lips pursed in a way that made it seem like she smelled something particularly foul. Jennifer and Rachel were giving her a once-over, their heavily made-up eyes pausing at certain points: at the white streaks in her hair, at her black leather jacket with its many zippers and buckles, at her short black leather biker gloves, at her silver chain mail belt, and finally at her black combat boots laced up over her tight black jeans. The looks on their faces made it clear that they didn’t approve of her fashion.
Like Ah give a shit, Rogue thought. Ah don’t wear the gloves ‘cause Ah like ‘em. And damned if ye’re gonna make me ashamed of this belt. Jubes spent weeks makin’ it for me. She didn’t even bother justifying the boots in her mind. They just made good sense for riding with Logan when any careless drop of her feet toward the ground could burn her calves or ankles on the exhaust. And then Logan would go all guilty on her and insist that she borrow some of his healing. Not that he could ever force her to any more. Ever since she gained control, she had resisted drawing anything from Logan, no matter how badly injured she might be. In fact, there was a four inch gash across her ribs currently healing under layers of protective gauze and surgical tape. The stitches itched something fierce, but Hank had said they could come out in just a couple more days. She refocused her attention on the group in front of her and found it interesting that Todd didn’t seem all that surprised or disappointed.
“What the hell kind of a name is Rogue?” Monique demanded.
“The kind that ain’t none o’ yer business,” Rogue drawled evenly. The corner of Todd’s mouth twitched. Interesting-er and interesting-er, Rogue noted flippantly. “Look,” she continued, “like it or not, we have to work together, so let’s just move this shit along, shall we? We gonna have our first meetin' at the library next Thursday or not?”
“Not,” Monique returned sharply. “There’s no way I’m taking any chances with my grade. We’re going to meet this weekend to get started. Give me your number and we’ll call you when we’ve decided on a time.”
Rogue couldn’t help scoffing as she walked forward. “Fine. When you’ve decided what time, you give me a call.” After a moment’s consideration, she scrawled the phone number for Logan’s room at the mansion across the top of one of the project guidelines and handed it to Monique. She was more likely to actually get the call at that number than at the mansion’s main number where any one of the students might pick up. Plus, she thought snidely, there’s a good chance Logan’ll scare the girl shitless when he picks up. While debating whether or not to warn Logan that she might be getting a call in the near future, Rogue strode quickly out of the room and toward the stairs at the end of the hall.
She was already outside the science building and making her way down the sidewalk toward the road when she heard someone calling her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Todd jogging toward her. He moved around in front of her to block her path.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said.
“Sorry? Not yer fault she’s a bitch.”
“Well, no,” he chuckled, “it isn’t. But I still feel bad about the way she treats people.”
Rogue tilted her head to the side. “Then why do ya hang around her and worse yet, stand there and let her do that to people?”
Todd blew a deep breath of air up toward his spiky blonde bangs, reminding her of Bobby. “I don’t hang around her. I hang around Rachel,” he said sheepishly.
Rogue made a soundless “oh” with her lips.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “She probably doesn’t seem all that great to you, does she?” Rogue shook her head in slight amusement. “She isn’t like you think, you know. I met her freshman year and she was always such a sweetheart. But she started hanging out with Monique and Jennifer last year and ever since then….” He trailed off with a shrug. “I’m just hoping that if I hang around long enough, she’ll get over her ‘Monique phase’ and be all sweet again and then I can finally ask her out.” He grinned broadly and tucked his right hand against the back of his neck and tilted his head to rest his forehead against the crook of his elbow, a gesture that again reminded her of Bobby’s awkward shyness. “So what about you?” Todd asked.
“What about me?” Rogue demanded.
“Well, until today I didn’t even know your name. What should I know about you?”
“What ya should know is that Ah don’t like questions,” she returned, “and besides. Ah gotta go.” She looked pointedly over his shoulder.
Turning to follow her gaze, Todd saw a bulky man leaning back against a parked Harley, his muscled arms crossed over his chest and his right foot lazily crossed over the left at the ankle. Todd idly wondered how the man could make the precarious position look so comfortable. If he leaned even a tiny bit too much weight back onto the bike, it would topple over. His pondering was cut short when he noticed the angry scowl on the man’s face as he watched Rogue. Todd whirled around to face her again.
“Are – are you in trouble?”
“Huh?”
“I mean,” Todd swallowed visibly, “is he bothering you? Do you need me to walk you to your dorm?” Hoping fervently that she would decline – he really didn’t want to have his bones broken today – he was nonetheless slightly put out when Rogue burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” he asked angrily.
Rogue merely shook her head and bent forward slightly as she continued laughing, her right hand crossing over her stomach to press against her ribs. Todd took the chance to observe the man again, feeling even more alarmed as he straightened away from the bike and frowned. A fluttering motion caught Todd’s attention and he saw Rogue watching the man and waving him back with her free hand. “He’s not trouble,” she gasped as her laughter slowed and she stood fully upright once more, “He’s mah ride.” She grinned cheekily and loped off toward the man and the Harley.
“You live off campus?” Todd couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. He knew apartments in the area were expensive; he didn’t know anybody who could afford to live off campus, and for some reason, he had always assumed that Rogue didn’t have a lot of money. She certainly didn’t act like it. He frowned. Then again, if she was shacking up with the guy…but the scruffy man didn’t look like he could afford to live in the area either.
“Yeah, Ah live off campus,” Rogue tossed over her shoulder. “Ah’ll see ya later.”
Todd watched as she reached the man’s side and couldn’t believe that she stood that close to him, tilting her head back and grinning up at him. The man continued to scowl, looking over Rogue’s shoulder at him until she said something and a slight smirk quirked up the corners of his mouth. In a quick move that Todd almost missed, the man tweaked one of the white streaks in Rogue’s hair with a thick index finger and slung his leg over the seat of the Harley before kicking the stand up with one booted heel. He held a black visored helmet out to Rogue, waiting patiently as she slipped her left arm through the other strap of her bag and shrugged a couple of times to center it on her back. She took the helmet from the man and tipped her head back slightly and shook her hair away from her face before putting it on. She then grabbed both of the man’s shoulders and slid her right knee across the black leather seat until she could straddle the bike. Todd could see the muscles in the man’s jean-clad legs tensing as he steadied the bike while Rogue lifted her feet to place them on the pegs in front of the back tire. She shifted forward a bit until she was almost plastered against the man’s back and tapped him once on the right shoulder before wrapping her arms tightly against his waist. A turn of the key and the Harley growled to life before rolling slightly forward as the man lifted his feet up, and then they were roaring away. Todd stood looking after them until they disappeared from sight, thinking that Rogue might just be the most interesting person he had ever met. And all he knew about her was her name and that she lived off campus.
* * *
Logan cut the engine, letting silence fall once again on the cavernous garage. He remained on the bike, steadying it for Rogue as she climbed off. Dismounting after her, he watched as she pulled the helmet off her head, always loving how her hair fell in a jumbled mess against her shoulders. Following their normal routine, he held out his hand for the helmet so he could strap it once again to the back of the bike, allowing her a few seconds to smooth her flyaway hair. When the helmet was stored and Rogue’s hair returned to some semblance of order, they turned in unison and let themselves in through the door leading from the garage into the mansion’s gleaming kitchen. A few of the younger students camped out at the cherry table in the far corner of the kitchen, textbooks and bags of chips and cookies sprawled across the warm-colored wood surface, froze as the infamous pair made their appearance.
Logan, even without his superior sense of smell, could see their suddenly fearful behavior. The exaggerated stillness in tense muscles, the averted eyes, the shallow but rapid breathing made him sigh internally. Even if they were relatively new to the school, they should know by now that he’d never hurt them. As he watched their eyes flick furtively between him and Rogue, however, he felt the slight stirring of anger. While he didn’t like them being afraid of him, contrary to popular belief, he could understand their fear. What he could never understand was their fear of Rogue. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. He had always figured he had enough for both of them, and on his more contemplative days, had wondered if that’s what had always drawn him to her. Her gentleness and genuine kindness grounded him, made him feel more human and less like the animal he had always believed he was. Every time she treated him with kindness, every gentle look and word she gave him, made him finally see himself as somebody worth caring for. He was still learning how to reciprocate that, but Rogue had assured him that while others knew intellectually that she carried a lot of sadness around with her, only he truly knew how deep the well went. She said it made her feel like she wasn’t alone anymore, and for her, that was enough. So now, seeing the four kids looking at her like that, he realized exactly how hurt she would be if she realized they were afraid of her too. Especially the skinny girl in the corner who wore her lavender hair in two low pigtails; she was the same girl he and Rogue had seen dusting the library last weekend as punishment for some minor infraction. They had come upon her looking out the window longingly, the feather duster drooping from her hand as she watched her friends playing. He would have been content to continue on, but Rogue stepped into the library and called out, “Why don’t ya join them? I’ll finish the little bit of dustin' you have left. It’ll be our little secret.” And then she winked at the little girl who cast her a nervous smile while handing her the duster. Rogue, good to her word, set about dusting and only Logan saw the girl rejoin her friends and gesture toward the library window where Rogue was still visible. Her friends’ eyes widened and one of the boys yanked the girl’s arm toward him and leaned down to whisper in her ear. Logan had watched as the girl’s eyes also grew large and her hands came up over the lower half of her face, had watched as Rogue continued dusting with a gentle smile on her face, oblivious to what was going on outside. Now he had a sick, sinking feeling in his chest as he saw Rogue’s smiling face. Before she could say anything and possibly be rebuffed by the girl, he leapt at the opportunity the cold soda cans presented.
“What do you think you’re doing, brats?” he growled. “Put some napkins under those cans before the condensation ruins the tabletop.” None of them moved. “Now!” he snapped, and the boy sitting closest to the sink leapt into action to grab a roll of paper towels and start dispensing them to his friends. Logan watched for a moment longer and then strode heavily from the room.
“Logan!” Rogue scolded from behind him. He kept walking, knowing that she would follow soon. He heard her gentle her tone as she spoke to the still-frightened kids. “Don’t let him scare ya – he’s all bark and no bite. Ya’ll see.” He could imagine her smiling and winking at the kids and hoped that she would never catch on to the fact that they were scared of her too.
She caught up to him on the stairs and they continued walking toward his room in silence. As they finally stepped off the stairs into the third floor hallway, the thought Logan had been mulling over before the kitchen incident came back to him. Turning his head slightly so that he would be able to monitor Rogue’s expression, he asked, “So, what was that thing back at the school?”
“Todd?” The slight furrowing of her brow as well as the subtle change in her scent told Logan that she was equal parts irritated, anxious, and confused. “I have to work with him on a Psychology project. He doesn’t bother me that much, but I can’t stand the other people in the group.” She smirked suddenly. “As a matter of fact, one of them will be calling your room later.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, Ah didn’t want to give them the school’s main number since ya never know who’s going to answer the phone around here, let alone whether ya’ll ever even be told that there’s a call fer ya.”
“But why not give them the number for your room?” he ground out in frustration.
She smirked again. “Because, sugar, then ya wouldn’t have the chance to growl at the bitch fer me.” He couldn’t contain a short bark of laughter.
“She’s that bad?” At her wordless nod, Logan laced his fingers together and stretched his arms out in front of him to crack his knuckles. “Leave it to me, darlin’.”
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
I have this planned for several chapters at least, but it has the potential for epic proportions. Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated.
Chapter End Notes:
In the next chapter: Monique's phone call. And what's this? Visitors at the mansion?