It was obvious as Logan pulled up at the bar that it was a truckers’ dive. He leaned forward over the steering wheel and peered up at the building, a frown building on his face.
“You sure about this, Marie?”
“‘Course. As long as they serve decent burgers, Ah’ll be fine.” As she finished speaking, the front door opened and tall man with muscles straining under his black t-shirt threw a smaller man several feet out into the parking lot. “Uh, how about an addendum? As long as they serve decent burgers an’ ye’re with me, Ah’ll be fine.” She offered Logan a weak grin.
He snorted and conferred briefly and silently with Wolverine.
Should be okay, Wolverine acknowledged. We’ll just make sure everybody in there knows she’s ours, put her front and center where we can see her, and then go kick some ass. Nobody’ll dare touch her after the first few schmucks end up bleedin’ on the floor. ‘Sides, she can take care of herself pretty well.
Logan thought it through for a few seconds.
“Okay,” he told Rogue. “But at the first sign of trouble, we’re leavin’.”
“Okay.”
The bar was dim, as all bars seemed to be, and the thick haze of smoke filling the room made it even more difficult to see. Logan paused in the doorway for a moment to let his eyes adjust, all the while careful to keep his arm against Rogue’s back and his hand resting lightly on her hip. The strategic pause in the doorway also allowed the room’s occupants to observe his claim on her. He didn’t bother explaining any of that to Rogue, though, as he had a feeling she might not like being treated like a piece of territory to be marked.
If she’s got a problem with it, just lay it out straight. Tell her how it’s gonna be.
You’re jokin’, right? You know she wouldn’t stand for that. Would probably go and get herself in trouble just for the chance to prove that she doesn’t need our help getting’ out of it.
Wolverine grumbled a bit, but didn’t argue. He was already distracted by the slightly raised section of floor at the opposite wall where people were lining up to watch the fight that was about to get started. Rogue had seen it too.
“Ya pro’ly wanna get in on that, right?” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the makeshift ring.
“Not right now,” Logan replied, ushering her toward the bar along one side of the room. He settled himself on the only available stool and stood Rogue squarely in front of him, bracketing her ribs with his thighs. He tapped on the bar with a closed fist.
“What can I gitcha?” the bartender asked, running a towel along the glass in his hands to dry it.
“Couple o’ burgers and two beers – whatever you got in bottles.”
The man nodded, not bothering to ask Rogue for ID, and shouted the order through the cutout section of wall behind him. “Burgers will take a bit,” he said, and pushed a couple of open bottles of beer in front of them.
Logan nodded back and swiveled slightly on his stool so he could see the rest of the room. Rogue turned with him, leaning back against him and hooking her elbows on his thighs for balance. They each sipped their beers slowly as they considered the crowd.
Most of the men, and the few women scattered throughout the room, were truckers. They were largely unwashed, although not yet offensively so, and denim and flannel were the uniform of choice. Most of the men had long, unkempt hair pulled back into low ponytails. Rogue gave a little snort of amusement.
“Grow yer hair out a bit an’ ye’ll fit right in, sugar,” she said, patting Logan’s knee for emphasis.
“Hush, you,” Logan chastised, although he was secretly amused. As was the Wolverine. He turned back to the bartender. “What’s the deal with the fights?”
The bartender looked him over appraisingly before answering. “Hunnerd t’ enter. Winner at the end o’ the night takes all. Single round fights can be arranged between ya an’ another fighter, same entry amount fer those. Two-hunnerd max payoff, though, since there’s no bettin’ allowed on those matches. Ya wanna sign up, ya gotta do it in the next five minutes. Single matches are first, an’ then the tournament starts in a half hour. Kitchen closes then, too, so if ya want somethin’ else, better put yer order in soon.”
“Sign me up,” Logan said, and slapped some bills on the bar, glad that they had taken the chance shortly after crossing the border to exchange some of their money at a bank. He had no doubt they’d take American money, but for the moment, he’d rather nobody knew where they were from.
Wolverine snorted. Yeah, sure. As soon as Marie opens her mouth people know where we came from.
True, Logan returned, taking a swig of beer, but they don’t know for sure that I’m from the same place. He scrawled “Wolverine” on the sign-up sheet on the clipboard the bartender put in front of him and then turned back to survey the room again. He could pick out most of the fighters from the nervous energy that seemed to be rolling off them in waves.
Rogue patted his thigh to get his attention. “Ah need to use the Ladies’, sugar.” Logan frowned and gestured the bartender over to them.
“You got a bathroom the lady can use?”
“We only got one,” the bartender said, nodding toward a scarred grey door to their left, “for men an’ women both.”
Logan frowned and swept the room, taking note of the numerous gazes that had been resting on Rogue since they first came in. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll wait outside the door for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the bartender said. He jerked his chin in a beckoning gesture at the large man they had seen tossing a customer out the door. The man lumbered over, not needing to shoulder anybody out of the way as they were all quick to move away from him. “This here’s Max,” the bartender continued. “He’s our bouncer, so ya can trust him to escort yer lady while ya save yer seat.”
Logan considered the bouncer. He was several inches taller than Logan, although no more muscular. What drew Logan’s attention most was the vicious-looking scar that bisected the man’s left eye. The slash started just above his eyebrow and continued over the eyelid itself and trailed down over the man’s cheek until it ended in a hook shape just above his jawline. The eye itself was a murky blue while the other was dark brown. Logan felt his frown deepen.
“Can I trust you to keep her safe?” he asked in a growl.
Max just nodded and held his hand out for Rogue’s. Logan nudged her forward a little with a hand at the small of her back. He held Max’s gaze as he spoke to her. “You need me, I’m just a scream away, darlin’.”
“Gotcha, sugar,” Rogue returned nonchalantly, already making a beeline for the bathroom door with Max in tow. Logan watched them as Max pushed aside the men waiting in line to use the facilities. None of them protested.
“What’s with that?” he asked the man behind the bar.
“House rules. Ladies don’t need to wait in line.”
Logan quirked an eyebrow and the bartender smiled faintly as he nodded at the burgers he placed in front of Logan. “My wife’s the cook and co-owner o’ this place. Was her idea.”
Logan nodded. “Hey, listen,” he said. “We’re gonna need a room after the fights. Where do I take care of that?” There was no way he was letting Rogue sleep in a separate room after what he had seen of the crowd.
“Ya take care o’ it right here.” The man reached under the bar and came up with a key in his hand. He slapped it on the counter in front of Logan and named what Logan thought was a reasonable price.
“Clean sheets and towels?”
The man nodded. “Wife takes care o’ all that.”
“Any TV?”
Another nod. “A few local stations, and one news station.”
“That local too?” Logan grunted, picking up his burger.
“Naw. It’s one o’ them news networks that covers international stuff.”
Logan nodded, pleased with the answer. He and Rogue could at least find out what was going on back in the States. They had tried to ask the professor earlier, but Xavier had been unusually brusque, telling them that he would call as soon as he had a chance to talk more in detail. Rogue hadn’t thought anything was odd about it, figuring that the professor was just busy, but Wolverine hadn’t liked Xavier’s reason. Neither had Logan. There was some indefinable tone to his voice that told Logan that the professor was worried about something. He just had no idea if it was something that would impact him and Rogue, or if it was some trivial matter about the school.
Logan was half finished with his burger when Rogue came back. He slid off the stool and offered it to her so she could at least sit while she ate. She gave him a grateful little smile and settled herself comfortably in the half-bracket of his arm that he formed by putting his arm behind her and gripping the far edge of the stool. Logan ate the rest of his burger with his free hand and grinned when Rogue shoveled her french fries onto his plate.
“Thanks.” Rogue merely nodded, her cheeks puffed out with the large bite of food she had in her mouth.
Logan worked steadily on the fries, pausing only long enough to gesture to the bartender for another round of beers.
You do realize you eat like a pig, right? Wolverine’s tone was mild.
I’m not takin’ lessons in table manners from you, Logan returned. I may not remember much about my past, but I do remember when I survived after the lab by lettin’ you stay in control. You had me eatin’ raw meat right off the sides of deer and rabbits.
Wolverine snorted. It was necessary. But right now, I’m just sayin’ that you’re not gonna impress Marie actin’ like a slob.
She knows how I eat by now. What’s the big deal? But Logan did take a few seconds to observe Rogue as she ate. Besides the first huge bite she had taken, she was eating slowly and neatly, taking small bites from her burger and setting it down at regular intervals to clean the grease off her fingers with the rough paper napkin the bartender had handed her. He watched as she took a sip of her beer, surprised that he had never noticed before the precise way she held the bottle and the slight lift of her pinky. You may have somethin’ there, he acknowledged grudgingly. But she’s never complained about the way I eat.
She wouldn’t. Would consider it poor manners.
Well hell. How would I know that? She’s got no problem swearin’, an’ she tells idiots at the mansion off on a regular basis. She certainly has no problem tellin’ me off if she thinks I need it.
Yeah, she’s a walkin’ contradiction. ‘Cept you gotta figure most o’ that kind o’ behavior is pro’ly from havin’ absorbed us.
Maybe. That still doesn’t mean I need to change my eatin’ habits.
Wolverine snorted. Idiot. It’s a courtin’ gesture. She’s finally thinkin’ about us in a sexual way, so you damned well better not do anythin’ that might make her rethink that.
A mild wave of disbelief swept through Logan. Courtin’ gesture? What the hell would you know about that?
Plenty.
Then why is now the first time I’m hearin’ about it?
‘Cause, Wolverine explained reasonably, never had reason to worry ‘bout it. You did fine on your own with Jean, despite the fact that it never went anywhere. An’ the other women we weren’t interested in courtin’; just screwin’.
Logan finished the last of his and Rogue’s fries and nodded slightly as he took a swig of beer.
Guess that makes sense. So, you got any other ideas on ‘courtin’’?
Gotta make it so that everythin’ that happens seems like it’s her idea. Don’t push her or she’s likely to turn on us. The reply came quicker than Logan had expected.
Thought a lot about this, have you?
Not really. Just the law of nature. You ever pay attention to animals in the wild, and you’ll see that even though the male seems like the aggressor, nothin’ ever happens until the female’s good and ready.
That’s true, Logan conceded, but was distracted from further conversation by the appearance of a short, round woman behind the bar. The bartender, whom Rogue had learned was named Mo with no “e”, nodded to the woman and turned immediately to pull a sliding panel over the window into the kitchen. There was a sign on the panel announcing “Kitchen is Closed.” The woman cast a curious glance at Logan and Rogue.
Mo cleared his throat. “This here’s Wolverine and his lady. They’re the ones what wanted the burgers.” Rogue frowned and looked at Logan.
“I’m Clara,” the woman said in a high, bird-like voice. She reached over the bar to shake Rogue’s hand, but merely nodded to Logan.
“Ah’m Marie,” Rogue said softly, ignoring Logan’s look of surprise. She leaned into him and whispered near his ear, “Ah can’t believe you wrote ‘Wolverine’ on that sign-up. Thought we were gonna try to avoid anythin’ that’d link us to the interview. ‘Swhy Ah told her my real name.” Logan nodded. He thought they were far enough from the U.S. border that nobody would have heard about the televised interview, but Rogue was right to urge caution.
“My name’s Logan,” he offered to Mo and Clara. “Wolverine’s just a name I decided to use for the fight. Borrowed it from some crazy guy I met a few years back.”
Crazy indeed, Wolverine snorted.
What would you call a guy who has in-depth conversations with himself?
Point taken.
A bell rang lightly near the fight ring. Logan turned around to see the last of the individual matches’ loser behind dragged unconscious off the platform. He felt his eyebrow lift in appreciation. He hadn’t been paying attention to the fights since the first match had been a disappointment. The fighters had stood toe to toe exchanging punches to the head without trying to block at all. After about ten or so punches, the smaller of the two men had fallen backward and didn’t get up. He was removed from the stage, and the winner of the fight had also needed assistance from a couple of his friends.
“Tournament fights are gonna start in a minute,” Mo told Logan. “We run things a little different from most places. Ya won’t stay in the ring ‘til ya lose. All the fighters have been divided into groups, A, B, and C; the fighters from group A all have a go at each other, same as the other two groups. The winners from those matches fight the other winners in their group, until there’s just one left. The last fight is between the three top fighters.”
“A three person fight?” Logan asked with renewed interest.
“Yup. If ya wanna back out, now’s the time.” Mo grinned. “‘Course, we keep yer entry fee if’n ya do.”
Rogue snorted, drawing Clara and Mo’s surprised attention to her. “This idiot’s excited at the chance to fight more’n one man at a time.”
“You prefer fightin’ more than one at a time, too,” Logan reminded her mildly.
Rogue responded with a rather wolfish grin, not noticing, although Logan did, that Clara looked a bit horrified.
“Got a C block fight to start things off!” the announcer in the ring called over the loud crowd. “First fight’s between a ‘Behemoth’ an’ a ‘Wolverine’, so would you two please come to the ring? We’ll start in about five more minutes, folks.”
Logan cocked an eyebrow at Mo. “Late sign-ups usually fight first?”
“No.” Mo grinned again, but offered no further explanation.
Logan shrugged and turned to Rogue. “Stay here, darlin’. I don’t want you up by the ring. Too many guys end up bein’ tossed into the crowd or fallin’ into it if there isn’t a cage to hold ‘em in.” Rogue frowned, but nodded. Logan turned back to Mo and Clara. “You’ll keep an eye on her?” He nodded meaningfully toward the other end of the bar, mystifying Rogue, but Mo nodded in understanding. A heavy, middle-aged biker type had been eyeing Rogue since her trip to the bathroom.
“Oh, we’ll take care o’ the little gal, don’t ya worry,” Clara reassured him and made a shooing gesture toward the fight ring.
Logan nodded and strode away.
* * *
As soon as Logan was a reasonable distance away, Clara leaned forward over the bar. “How’d ya get mixed up with someone like him, sweetie?” She didn’t notice the slight pause in Logan’s step or the way he turned his head slightly back toward them, but Rogue did.
“He saved mah life,” Rogue answered simply. Logan continued walking.
Clara smiled. “That must be some story. I’d hardly consider him the knight in shining’ armor type.”
“No disrespect, ma’am, but that’s ‘cause ya don’t know him.”
Clara and Mo exchanged a look. “So why don’t ya tell us ‘bout him. Startin’ with how ya’ll met.”
Rogue smiled uneasily. She couldn’t see any harm in pretty much sticking to the truth. “Ya can pro’ly tell from mah accent that Ah’m not from around here.” She didn’t wait for the couple’s nods. “When Ah was sixteen, things got kinda…bad at home. So Ah ran away.” Clara frowned and shook her head, making light tsking sounds with her tongue against her teeth. “So, anyway Ah made it up to the Canada border without too much trouble. Buses at first, an’ when mah money started runnin’ low, Ah hitched rides.”
“Dangerous thing fer a young girl to do,” Mo said disapprovingly as he dried yet more shot glasses and tumblers.
“Didn’t have a choice,” Rogue said honestly.
“Ya didn’t have any friends or family that’d take ya in, sweetie?”
Rogue shook her head. “No, ma’am. Never had any family ‘sides Mama an’ Daddy, an’ they made it clear Ah couldn’t stay with ‘em anymore. Only friends Ah had lived in the same town, an’ everybody knew what was goin’ on at mah house. They were afraid to be aroun’ me after the…the trouble started.”
“So this Logan guy is somebody ya hitched a ride with?”
“Sorta,” Rogue said, giving her first genuine smile since she had started telling the story. “First time Ah saw him, he was cage-fightin’.” Clara tsked again. “It was a bar in a run-down little town an’ the trucker Ah was hitchin’ with wasn’t goin’ any farther that day. Ah followed the trucker into the bar, thinkin’ Ah’d at least get warmed up a bit ‘fore lookin’ fer another ride. Ah had run outta money a few days ‘fore that, an’ Ah was starvin’.” Rogue paused, wondering how much to tell Clara and Mo. She decided that it might help to tell them everything about what had happened to her. She swallowed hard. “Ah…Ah had had somethin’ to eat that day, but Ah hadn’t been able to keep it down after the trucker ‘fore the last one made me…” Rogue shook her head and didn’t finish. She had thought she could do it; she remembered how Charles and Jean before him had always told her that talking about things was therapeutic. They had been worried about how silent she was around the mansion, thinking that she always just bottled up her emotions. They hadn’t realized then that she talked most things over with Logan when she had a problem.
“Anyway,” Rogue continued, staring down at the scarred surface of the bar and missing the horrified look Clara gave Mo, “Ah was hungry, didn’t have any money, an’ was scared ‘bout ridin’ with people. Sat at the bar fer a couple hours kinda sizin’ everybody up. Didn’t get a good feelin’ from anybody, but fer some reason, Logan didn’t scare me. Not even after Ah saw him fight, an’ not even after some guy angry at losin’ his fight came after him when he was sittin’ right next to me. Logan left right after takin’ care o’ the guy, an’ Ah followed him. Climbed into his trailer without him knowin’ an’ hunkered down under a tarp.” Rogue chuckled a bit at the memory. “Ah was freezin’, cursin’ at myself fer bein’ so stupid as to ride in an open trailer in the cold, when all of a sudden Logan stopped. Ah thought maybe he had stopped in another town fer somethin’, but Ah didn’t hear any other cars or people. Held as still as Ah could; held mah breath, too, in case he saw vapor comin’ out from under his tarp. Ah heard his footsteps crunchin’ in the snow until he was standin’ right next to me.” Rogue let out a short, happy laugh. “An’ then he poked me right in the head with his finger. He still hasn’t told me how he knew Ah was there.”
“That’s it?” Clara asked in disbelief. “He just gave ya a ride after that?”
“No,” Rogue admitted. “He left me on the side of the road and drove away.”
Mo frowned and Clara sputtered. “That…that cad!” she exclaimed. Rogue laughed loudly and noticed how Logan turned at the sound to look at her. She smiled at him and waved.
“That’s nicer than what Ah was thinkin’ ‘bout him at the time,” Rogue said. “But he hadn’t even driven out o’ sight ‘fore he was pullin’ over an’ waitin’ fer me.”
Clara smiled. “Ya been with him ever since?”
“Yeah,” Rogue said with a soft smile. “We found a place to stay with some other people; Ah finished school, an’ had plenty o’ friends an’ people to look after me when Logan had to go off on…business.”
“Finished school? How old are ya, sweetie?” Clara asked.
“Twenty-two in a couple o’ months.”
Clara was visibly surprised. “Ya don’t look much older than eighteen or so, hon.”
Rogue grimaced. The makeup she had applied that morning had worn off throughout the day, leaving her looking much like she always did. “Yeah, Ah know. Logan gets a lot o’ grief fer that,” she said musingly. She took another long sip of beer.
“Well, honey,” Clara said carefully, “ya have been with him since ya were sixteen. ‘Course people will be lookin’ at that kinda funny.”
Rogue slammed her bottle down on the bar. “It’s not like that,” she hissed. “With the exception o’ just recently – very recently – Logan never touched me like that. An’ even then, Ah kissed him, so don’t ya dare think bad o’ him.”
Clara had lurched back a step at Rogue’s verbal assault. “I’m s-sorry, sweetie. Mo an’ I just assumed, since yer Logan only reserved one room an’ all.”
“He got us a room?” Rogue asked in surprise, her anger rapidly fading at Clara’s sincere apology.
Clara nodded. “We thought ya were younger than ya are an’ were worried ‘bout the single room. That’s why Mo got Logan into the first fight. We wanted a chance to make sure ya were okay.”
Rogue smiled and laughed a little. “Thanks. Normally Logan an’ Ah’ll get separate rooms,” she admitted. She looked over the crowd again, seeing that Logan had taken off his shirt and was already standing in the ring waiting for his opponent. “But seein’ the sort o’ people out an’ about ‘round here, mah guess is Logan was worried ‘bout leavin’ me alone at night.”
Clara looked surprised, yet again. Rogue wondered how the woman could remain so delightfully naïve working in a bar where people regularly got drunk, swore, and beat each other to the ground.
“Oh,” Clara said. “That’s right…gentlemanly of him.”
Rogue grinned at her, and hearing the bell sound over at the ring, she turned around to watch Logan fight.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Precious little snowflakes indeed. ;)
Chapter End Notes:
In the next chapter: Half-naked Logan kicks ass. Hmm...happy thoughts. :)