After changing their clothes quickly in the convenience store restroom, they climbed back into the Explorer. As it turned out, it was going to be their last night spent on the road. A brief conversation with Xavier had led to the man asking their whereabouts and a quick promise that he would call back shortly. Barely two hours later, the professor gave them an address a little less than a day’s drive away.
“It’s nothing extravagant,” he had said, “but it’s yours. The paperwork will be available at the nearest real estate office – that’s still about three hours away from the cabin – and all you have to do is show the identification I provided for you.”
Something stubborn and unreasoning had chafed inside Logan for a few moments while Wolverine grumbled that they were perfectly capable of providing for Rogue. Knowing why Wolverine was upset, and agreeing with him, Logan nonetheless squashed the tiny surge of resentment. We can’t provide for her this quickly, though.
Wolverine settled back down and Logan managed a grudging “Thank you” for the professor. Still, when he explained the situation to Rogue and she responded with an offended huff that they could take care of themselves, he couldn’t keep a feral grin of satisfaction from spreading across his face.
Now, however, as they were settling into the rundown motel room, Logan and Rogue found themselves in the middle of an argument. Logan’s mood wasn’t helped at all by the fact that Rogue had requested a room with two beds, but Wolverine had warned him not to push the issue. He chose, instead, to focus on something else.
“Why are you bein’ so stubborn, darlin’? It would just be for a second.”
“No!” Rogue pulled a change of clothes out of her bag and rounded on him, her fists propped on her hips. “Ya can’t heal every little ouchie Ah get.”
“‘Ouchie’?” Logan’s lips twisted in a smirk around the word.
Now’s pro’ly not the best time to be pokin’ fun at the way she talks, Wolverine warned, still in his place beside Logan instead of being shoved into the depths of his mind.
“Yes, ‘ouchie’,” Rogue said, gritting her teeth. “This little scrape is nothin’ at all an’ Ah’m certainly not gonna refer to it as an injury or a wound. An’ since it isn’t serious, you’re gonna keep yer hands an’ yer healin’ to yerself.”
Logan leered at her. “Sure you want me to keep my hands to myself?”
“Pig,” Rogue responded succinctly before rummaging through her shopping bag. She added a small box to her pile of clothes and reached back into her duffel for her strawberry shampoo and conditioner. “Since Ah’m not gonna let ya heal this, an’ ya can’t force the issue, this conversation is over. Ah’m gonna take a shower. After that we can go get some dinner at that sketchy little place down the road.”
Logan snorted and called after her retreating back, “You want to eat at a ‘sketchy’ place?”
Rogue closed the bathroom door smartly behind her and yelled through the faux wood, “Didn’t see any other option, did ya?”
* * *
Doesn’t look too bad, Logan commented to Wolverine, running his hand over his jaw. He put the electric clipper down on the dresser and peered a little closer at his reflection in the mirror. The muttonchops were gone, but he hadn’t been willing to go completely clean-shaven. Instead, he had opted for an ‘I haven’t shaved in a couple days’ stubble.
No, not bad, Wolverine conceded. Hair’s still too distinctive, though.
Logan snorted out loud. You really wanna tackle that on our own? We’ll have Marie do it. He squinted into the mirror. And what the hell’s wrong with our eyes?
Wolverine turned his attention to Logan’s question. They do look lighter, don’t they? He gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. We can still see just fine, though. Ask Hank about it sometime. And as quick as that, Wolverine dismissed the unsettling change.
Logan shrugged as well and folded up the towel he had spread on the dresser to catch the hair trimmings. As he was shaking it over the trash can, the bathroom door opened.
What in the hell is that stench? Wolverine asked in an offended yowl.
Damned if I kn…they’re gone. Logan’s initial denial was cut off by a startled realization.
“What the hell did you do to your hair?”
Rogue’s right hand lifted self-consciously to her head. “Ah thought the streaks were too noticeable. Does it look weird?”
“Yeah. I mean, no it doesn’t look weird, just different. I liked the streaks,” he finished somewhat plaintively.
“Me too, sugar. An’ once we get where we’re goin’ an’ get settled in, we’ll see if it’s safe to let ‘em come back.”
“It’ll take forever to grow them out, though.”
Rogue shook her head, her newly dyed hair swaying softly. The gesture didn’t seem as emphatic as it normally did without the eye-catching white. “Ah used semi-permanent dye. It should wash out in a couple months.” Her eyes narrowed. “Yer turn, sugar. What’d ya do to yerself?”
Logan rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Was thinkin’ the same as you I guess. Too noticeable. I’m gonna need your help with cuttin’ my hair, though.”
“What makes ya think Ah’m any good at cuttin’ hair?” Rogue asked innocently. “Yer hair might end up lookin’ like it got in a fight with a litter o’ kittens.”
Logan snorted. “At least it won’t stink the way yours does. Anyway, I remembered you tellin’ me once that you used to cut your daddy’s hair for him.”
At the pained look that crossed Rogue’s face, Wolverine delivered a walloping mental smack to his head. Not even bothering to respond to it since he knew he richly deserved the punishment, Logan crossed the room quickly and gathered Rogue’s hands in his and pulled them up to rest against his chest.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he rumbled.
Rogue shook her head wordlessly, the motion serving to waft the strong chemical smell toward his sensitive nose. His eyes immediately started tearing.
“Sugar, what in the world?” Rogue sounded downright horrified. “It’s all right. Really. Ah know ya didn’t mean to upset me.” As she patted his cheeks soothingly, he caught the smell of the dye clinging faintly to her skin too.
Logan took a hasty step back and shook his head, waving his hand in front of his nose to clear the lingering smell. “Lord you stink, darlin’.”
Understanding dawned and Rogue gave a relieved laugh. “Well, Ah’ve never been so happy to be insulted,” she drawled. “But be nice, sugar. Ah get to cut yer hair later, remember?”
Logan grinned back and held out his hand. Rogue took it happily, not even minding when Logan wrinkled his nose as she came closer.
* * *
All through their meal of burgers and fries at the diner, Logan and Wolverine discussed the issue of Rogue requesting a room with two beds.
I think she’s just nervous, Wolverine suggested. With what happened earlier today, she might be thinkin’ that we expect more.
Maybe, Logan acknowledged, ignoring Rogue’s curious look at his continued silence. But she should know we’d never force her into anythin’.
Wolverine mulled over his response. That might not be the problem. We would never force her to do anythin’, but we could pro’ly convince her with very little effort.
Huh. So you’re sayin’ she doesn’t trust herself?
Could be.
Feeling marginally better now that he had a plausible explanation for Rogue’s request – one that had nothing to do with his own shortcomings – Logan finally started talking to her.
“Seems to be somethin’ special about the place Chuck’s got set up for us.”
“Like what?” Rogue eyed him warily, still wondering about his earlier silence.
“Dunno. He said there’d be a letter at the realtor’s explainin’ it.”
Rogue snagged a french fry from his plate, having finished hers a while ago. She grimaced for a moment and muttered, “Ya know, Ah don’t think Ah’ll be able to eat french fries for months after this.”
Logan chuckled. “Burgers and fries are kinda standard road fare, aren’t they?”
Rogue sighed and dusted the salt off her fingers. “Logan?” she asked hesitantly.
“Hmm?” he mumbled around a mouthful of food.
“When we get to the new place, what’re we gonna do?”
Logan swallowed. “What d’you mean?”
“Ah mean, what are we gonna do all day long? As much as Ah like yer company, sugar, Ah don’t wanna just sit around an’ stare at ya.”
He looked at her for a moment, thinking through her words. “You wanna get a job? Is that what you’re sayin’?”
“Maybe,” Rogue admitted. “Ah mean, dependin’ on what the area’s like an’ all, Ah could maybe work a few days a week. What d’ya think?”
Logan nodded and took a sip of his beer. “That sounds reasonable. We’ve got legitimate IDs, and Chuck did say there’s a small town about an hour away. We’ll spend the first week or so checkin’ everythin’ out and then we’ll see, okay?”
“Okay.” Rogue smiled at him happily and finished the rest of her strawberry milkshake.
* * *
“Ya sure ‘bout this, sugar?” Rogue asked a couple hours later. Logan was seated on the edge of the bathtub and Rogue stood over him with a pair of scissors and a comb.
“Yeah,” Logan rumbled, rolling down the edge of the towel he had draped around his neck. He hadn’t bothered putting a shirt on after his shower, and a bead of water that had escaped the towel rolled down his spine and was absorbed by the waistband of his jeans. “Just get on with it, darlin’.”
“Not too short, right?” she asked.
“Right,” Logan confirmed.
Rogue silently went to work, and Logan couldn’t help but be impressed with how swiftly she used the scissors and comb.
That might not be a good thing, Wolverine cautioned with amusement.
It’s just hair, Logan snorted. Even if we do end up lookin’ ridiculous, it’ll grow out.
Rogue caught some of the amusement on his face. “What’s funny, sugar?” she murmured absently.
“Turns out Wolverine’s a bit of a fashion plate. He’s worried you’re gonna make us look funny.”
Rogue chuckled. “Well, ya can tell Wolverine Ah said – ” and she stuck her tongue out mockingly.
Wolverine growled. “Oh, I think he got the message.”
Rogue almost made a mistake with the scissors when a voice whispered to her, You know, this would be an excellent time to put that overgrown rat in his place.
Rogue gulped back a retort. What d’ya mean?
I mean I can’t stand how he thinks he has us all figured out. Doesn’t it make you angry at all?
No, Rogue answered cautiously. Ah assume ye’re talkin’ ‘bout Wolverine an’ not Logan, right?
Right, the voice confirmed. Logan still has the humility and good sense to understand that he’ll never have us pegged. At least not entirely.
What’s wrong with somebody knowin’ us completely? Rogue asked curiously.
Nothing’s wrong with it, exactly, the voice acknowledged grudgingly. He just hasn’t earned the right yet.
How d’ya know? We’ve only talked to Wolverine once. An’ he wouldn’t tell us everythin’ Ah wanted to know.
That’s my point. He decided what we should and shouldn’t know.
But that was somethin’ Logan didn’t want him to tell me.
The voice snorted derisively. That was just an excuse. You don’t really think the Wolverine’s so under Logan’s control that he couldn’t have told us if he had wanted to?
Maybe not, Rogue mused, stepping back to take a look at Logan’s hair. “All finished, sugar,” she said out loud, still thinking over the things the voice had said.
Logan got up and inspected his hair in the mirror. “Not bad, darlin’,” he said admiringly. His hair was shorter at the sides and back, with a bit more length at the top.
Satisfied? he asked Wolverine.
Looks okay, Wolverine returned.
Better than okay, Logan snorted. She could make money doin’ this. A thought came to him. “Marie?”
“Hmm?” she asked absently as she swept the hair clippings up in a towel.
“D’you think you might want to have a little barber’s shop when we get where we’re goin’?”
Rogue paused, tipping her head to the side as she considered the question. Slowly, she shook her head. “Ah don’t think so. Ah wouldn’t be able to wear gloves while Ah worked, an’ ya know Ah still have to concentrate really hard to control mah skin all day.”
Logan nodded, his face thoughtful. “We’ll figure somethin’ out, then.”
Rogue nodded and smiled. Logan watched her as she continued cleaning and straightening the bathroom. Wolverine prodded him.
“Can I ask you somethin’, darlin’?”
Rogue glanced over her shoulder in surprise. “Of course.”
Logan took a deep breath, finding it hard to believe that he was actually nervous. “I – we – were just wonderin’. Why’d you ask for two beds?”
“Ah…” she trailed off and shrugged awkwardly. “Ah don’t think Ah’m ready to…Ah didn’t want ya to think Ah was just teasin’ ya earlier, but Ah wasn’t sure how to bring it up.” She shrugged again.
Logan exhaled in relief. “That’s what Wolverine thought,” he murmured.
Ha! Rogue said triumphantly to the voice that had taken up residence in her head.
Seems he knows us better than ya thought, doesn’t it?
Don’t get uppity with me, little girl, the voice snapped back. I’m here to look after you, and if that means being suspicious even of Wolverine, then that’s what I’m going to do.
What d’ya mean ye’re here to look after me?
You’ll find out soon enough, the voice said, and then faded away.
“– thought I’d done somethin’ to upset you,” Logan was saying when she came back to herself.
“Huh? No, ya didn’t upset me, sugar.”
“You know I’d never rush you, right?” Rogue’s eyes softened at his earnestness.
“Ah know,” she acknowledged softly.
“Then sleep in the same bed with me tonight? I just want to be able to hold you,” he admitted.
Rogue frowned. There was an undercurrent to his voice that she couldn’t identify.
Vulnerability, that voice whispered to her.
‘Bout what?
Why don’t you ask him?
“What’s wrong, sugar?”
Logan sighed. “Nothin’s wrong, exactly.” Wolverine poked at him, prompting him to tell her the rest. “It’s just that I don’t know what the hell’s gonna happen. We’re not gonna be able to go back to Xavier’s for a while. Maybe not for a long time.”
“Ah know. But we’ll be fine,” Rogue reassured him.
“That’s not what’s worryin’ me, darlin’.”
“Then what is it?” Rogue pressed, bewildered.
“I dunno,” Logan admitted, running his hand through his hair in frustration. The gesture felt odd with shorter hair.
An idea flashed through the back of Rogue’s mind, and she wasn’t sure if it came from the mysterious voice or not. But she went with it.
“It’s ‘cause ya were startin’ to think o’ the school as home, isn’t it?”
Logan blinked once, slowly. “Maybe,” he mused quietly.
“An’ havin’ to leave’s got ya all unsettled.”
“No.” Logan frowned. “No, that’s not it. I feel settled as long as you’re with me,” he admitted. Thinking it through a little more, he came to a realization. “I think it’s more that it was your home, darlin’, and that’s somethin’ that I always wanted for you. I couldn’t give you back your first home with your parents, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give you back your home at Xavier’s.”
A slow, brilliant smile crept across Rogue’s face. “So, ye’ll make us a new home wherever it is we’re goin’.” She crossed to the door and placed her hand on the light switch. “That’s all Ah need, Logan. A home with ya in it.” She flicked the light off, leaving him in the darkened room. “Oh, an’, Logan? Bein’ held tonight sounds good.”
* * *
True to his word, Logan did nothing but hold Rogue that night. He made no comment when the chemical smell of her hair caused his eyes to tear, and he eventually got used to it enough to drift into a dreamless sleep. In the morning, they rose without a word, got dressed, and headed back to the diner for breakfast. They managed to talk the waitress into filling Clara’s thermos with coffee for them when they were paying their bill, and then they hit the road again.
They rode mostly in silence, but as they got closer to the town where Xavier had told them they would find the realtor’s office, Rogue’s nerves got the best of her and she started chattering almost non-stop. Logan took it in good humor, understanding her nerves, and didn’t answer beyond the occasional “Uh-huh”, or “I guess so.” After his sixth “I guess so” in as many minutes, though, Rogue gave him a curious look and then snorted in humor.
“Ah’m ramblin’, aren’t Ah?”
“Uh-huh.” Logan smirked at her and Rogue punched him lightly in the shoulder. She managed to be quiet the remaining fifteen minutes of their ride.
At the realtor’s office, they were greeted by a stooped old man in a suit and tie. Having looked around the town as they drove through, Logan couldn’t imagine that the office got enough business to warrant such professional attire. However, when he and Rogue introduced themselves using their aliases, the old man’s wrinkled face brightened in a genuine smile. He introduced himself as Walter Burroughs.
“Well now,” the old man said through his smile, “I was wondering what sort of people you might be. Can’t believe a young couple like you is interested in that property.”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Rogue asked bluntly. Logan chuckled.
The old man kept smiling as he shook his head. “Nothing wrong with it but age and neglect,” he said. “It’s been listed with our office for going on five years now, but we’ve had an inspector out there every spring. He assures us it’s still structurally sound, so no worries there. It just looks a little run-down and could probably use a new roof this year.”
“How old is it?” Logan asked curiously.
“Well now, let’s see,” Walter said, shuffling through some papers in a file folder. “Looks like the main cabin was built in the early 1900s. Then the outbuildings were added in the ‘50s. New plumbing and wiring in all the buildings in the mid ‘80s.” Walter looked up from the file. “Lots of space for just the two of you. What are you planning on doing with it?”
Logan and Rogue exchanged a look. “We’re not sure yet,” Logan said slowly. “The purchase was handled by a third party, so we don’t even know exactly what’s on the property.”
“Oh, of course,” Walter said. “That fancy New York lawyer sure wanted everything handled in a hurry. I have some photos here if you’d like to take a look?” He held the file aloft in a questioning gesture.
“That’d be wonderful,” Rogue said with a smile. As she spread the photos out on the desk in front of her, Logan looking over her shoulder, Walter snapped his fingers suddenly.
“I darn near forgot,” he exclaimed. He started rummaging in the top drawer of his desk. “Where in blazes did I put?” he mumbled to himself. “Ah-hah!” he crowed happily, and flourished a plain white envelope in the air. “This arrived by courier this morning for you,” he said, and handed it to Logan.
Rogue spared him one curious look before turning back to the photos of the property. From what she could see, there was one main cabin and three or four “outbuildings” as Walter had called them. They were long, three-story structures, each with numerous windows, but only one entrance per building. At the center of each one, she could see the hint of a chimney peaking from the sloped, grey-shingled roof. At the edge of the clearing in which the buildings sat, all she could see was thick, dark foliage. They looked mostly like pines, and at the edge of one photo, she could see more trees lining a long, winding driveway. The drive didn’t look paved, but from the gritty-looking texture, Rogue was guessing there was at least gravel.
“It’s a letter from the professor,” Logan murmured to her, and handed it over while Walter searched through yet another drawer for the appropriate set of keys. Rogue abandoned the pictures in favor of the letter.
Dear Logan and Rogue,
As I said on the phone the other day, the property is yours free and clear. That means, that while it is my hope you will agree with me on this, you are by no means obligated to use the property as I had intended when I first came across it last year. I did not purchase it then because of purely logistical concerns – who would renovate it, who would operate it, could we keep it private and secure? – but now, I think the two of you would be able to handle much of the work yourselves. What I would like to do is use the property as another school for gifted children. Of course, given the current political situation, it wouldn’t be operating as a legitimate institution, and there would be no government funding. And it will likely never be fully staffed. It could, however, provide the same safe and caring environment that we have tried to create here at Xavier’s. It could be a place where children with nowhere to go and no one to turn to could find the help and peace that they so desperately want and need. So, perhaps it won’t be a school, but more a half-way house where the residents would be welcome to stay for as long or as short a time as they need.
Should you decide to adopt this plan as your own, please contact the lawyer who handled the purchase of the property – Mr. Burroughs will have his information – and you will be provided with the funds for renovations and upkeep. If that is not what you want to do, I will still provide you with whatever assistance you might need, but there will be no need for the lawyer to be involved any further. Either way, it will take quite some time to complete the repairs to the property, so please think it through.
Yours,
Charles
Folding the letter quietly and slipping it back into its envelope, Rogue looked at Logan. “What d’ya think?”
“I think…maybe.”
“Ya wanna get a feel fer the area first?”
“Yeah. And like the letter said, we’ll have time to decide while we fix the place up.”
“Okay,” Rogue nodded.
“Found them!” Walter said, and jangled a set of keys in the air. “I do apologize,” he continued, “that I won’t be driving out to the property with you. It’s just too long in the car roundtrip for these old bones of mine. I took the liberty of typing up directions for you, though. And my office and home phone numbers are there as well should you need anything.” He handed the keys to Logan and shook hands with both of them. When Rogue asked if they could take the file with them, Walter generously agreed. “Drive carefully, now,” he said, and waved to them from the window as they climbed back into the Explorer.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Another chapter in which things creep forward slowly. I think the pace of the story has started to drag a bit, and I do apologize for that. I wasn't lying when I said this thing has the potential for epic proportions; the story came to me in flashes of key scenes, but all the connecting detail was missing. That's what I've been trying to fill in. So, as always, comments and criticism are greatly appreciated.