Once they were home, Rogue wasted no time sending Elizaveta over to the dorm with the boys’ clothing and went to find Logan.
“Somethin’ might’ve happened in town,” she said to his back upon discovering him in the living room peering up the chimney.
Logan straightened so quickly he slammed his head on the mantle.
Cursing vilely at the sudden pain, he snapped, “Might have happened, or did happen?”
Recognizing that his anger was likely a combination of pain and worry, Rogue ignored his nasty tone. “The waitress at the diner saw Elizaveta’s hair.”
Sucking in a calming breath, Logan asked, “How’d she react?”
“Better than I would have expected,” Rogue admitted cautiously. “She was actually really apologetic to Elizaveta and kind o’ worried about whether anybody else saw.”
“Huh. Nobody else noticed then?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Maybe I should head into town tomorrow and check it out.”
“Might be a good idea,” Rogue admitted hesitantly. “Just as long as you’re not plannin’ on flashin’ your claws at anybody.”
A sardonic eyebrow winged upward. “You don’t really think I’d be that stupid, do you?”
“Stupid, no. But if you got angry enough….” Rogue trailed off and raised her eyebrow in query.
Logan grunted. “Maybe,” he admitted after a little thought.
Rogue sighed heavily. “What we really need is a completely human spokesperson. You and Ah can pass as human as long as we’re careful. And if Ah keep dyein’ my hair.” She tugged at her bangs ruefully.
Logan frowned. “But a non-mutant would be suspect by mere association with us.”
Rogue smirked at the phrasing. She had always known that Logan was much more intelligent than he ever let on, and was strangely flattered that he never bothered to hide it from her.
“That’s true, but if he were the one to handle the majority of issues and errands in town and we stayed in the background, it would take much longer for anybody to even get suspicious of us.”
His frown turning into an irritated scowl, Logan said, “You do realize you’re suggestin’ we skulk around in the shadows like criminals, right?”
Blinking several times in surprise, Rogue said softly, “Oh. Right.”
Logan snorted in sudden amusement. “Yeah. Right,” he teased.
Rogue stuck her tongue out at him.
Laughing, Logan forced out, “Oh, that’s mature.”
The front door slamming brought their attention to the archway leading from the living room into the kitchen.
“What’s funny?” Max asked curiously, leading Elizaveta by the hand.
Logan noted immediately that the boy’s fingers were only loosely curled around the small hand tucked in his, protecting Elizaveta from his claws. He nodded minutely at the boy in approval, knowing that with his heightened senses, Max would see the gesture and the accompanying flick of Logan’s eyes toward his hand.
Max smiled shyly, revealing his fangs for a brief moment.
“Yeah, what’s funny?” Elizaveta asked, casting an adoring glance at Max as they moved farther into the room.
“Nothin’ much,” Logan said in amusement. “Rogue was just bein’ her normal mature self.”
Rogue squinted at Logan and stuck her tongue out again.
Max chuckled, but Elizaveta gasped. “You shouldn’t do that, Miss Rogue, it’s rude! My mama says so.” Immediately, her small face crumpled and she choked out in a small voice, “Used to say so.”
Max brought his free hand up toward Elizaveta’s hair, but stopped short of actually touching her. He sent a frantic look of appeal toward Logan and Rogue. Feeling similarly helpless, Logan looked at Rogue.
“Well, your mama was a very smart lady, Elizaveta.” Her use of past tense was matter of fact. “Logan and Ah were just teasin’ each other, though. Ah wasn’t doin’ it to be mean. You reckon your mama would forgive me?”
“Of course!” Elizaveta sniffled. “Mama always forgave people, sometimes even ‘fore they apologized.”
Following Rogue’s lead, Logan pitched in, “Sounds like she was quite a lady, munchkin.”
“Oh, she was!” Elizaveta tugged on Max’s hand and smiled at him tentatively. “I wish everybody could have a mama like her, even for just a little while.”
Max returned the girl’s smile with none of the hesitance in revealing his fangs that he had shown to Logan just moments ago.
Logan tilted his head in consideration, taking in Max’s protective stance next to Elizaveta and the continuing care with which he gripped her hand. Feeling Logan’s eyes on him, Max glanced up and narrowed his eyes in sudden challenge.
Logan raised an eyebrow. Everything he was doing suggested that Max thought of Elizaveta as a pack mate.
“You know how to fight, Max?” he asked calmly.
The boy’s lip curled in a soundless snarl. “More or less. Even growing up in a circus, people weren’t very accepting of the mutant kid and I got beat up until I learned to fight back.” A humorless laugh trickled between the teenager’s fangs. “Clowns are downright vicious under all the face paint.”
Bemused, thinking of Kurt, Logan shook his head. “Is that right? Well, anyway, you wanna learn real fightin’? Somethin’ that’ll make sure nobody can hurt you or anybody you care about?” Logan did another eye flick toward Elizaveta, knowing Max would again catch the movement of his eyes.
Max went still like a predator about to leap on its prey, all his muscles tensed and ready. “Yeah,” he growled, “that would be good.”
“I wanna learn too,” Elizaveta said in a small voice. She tugged on Max’s hand and looked adoringly up at him. “I wanna make sure nobody hurts you or Miss Rogue or Mr. Logan the way they hurt Mama and Daddy.”
“Munchkin.” Logan crouched down in front of her and grasped her waist in both hands. “I’ll teach you whatever I can. But what I’m going to teach Max isn’t something you can learn.”
“Why not?” The stubborn challenge in the girl’s voice made Logan smile.
“Because Max has his claws and I have these.” He took his hands away from her sides and popped his own claws.
“Oh!” Elizaveta gasped in surprise and stumbled a step closer to Max. Logan stayed still and let the kids stare.
“Logan would never hurt you,” Rogue reassured them quietly.
“I know, Miss Rogue,” Elizaveta whispered. “But he’s got knives coming out of his arms.”
“Not so different from me,” Max said, holding out his free hand and somehow flexing the muscles and tendons until his claws, razor sharp and curved, extended almost two inches.
Elizaveta’s head swiveled as she looked back and forth between Logan and Max’s claws.
“So you’re going to teach Max to use his claws, Mr. Logan?”
“Yup.”
Elizaveta tilted her head as she considered the gleaming length of Logan’s claws. “Then can you teach me to use knives?”
Logan coughed in surprise. “Um, yeah, eventually, munchkin. Thought I’d teach you some basic self defense first, though, and build off of that. That sound okay to you?”
Elizaveta looked at Max. He nodded once. “Okay,” she said, turning back to Logan. “Self defense first and knives later.”
Chuckling uneasily, Logan cast Rogue a helpless look.
“I think we should teach everybody self defense,” she said calmly. “How about I get the kids started with the basics while you work with Max?”
“You fight too, Miss Rogue?” Elizaveta breathed, wide-eyed.
“Yup. Logan taught me,” Rogue said cheerfully.
Logan had to interrupt. “Kid, I don’t get how you could live at Xavier’s and not know about my claws or the fact that Rogue can fight. She’s actually the best one there next to me.”
The little girl blinked at Logan several times. “‘Course I heard about your claws, Mr. Logan. But seeing them is different. And Miss Rogue fighting is too hard to imagine. She’s all soft and cuddly just like Mama was. And Mama never fought a day in her life.” Sudden tears flooded Elizaveta’s eyes. “You think maybe if she had learned to fight, she and Daddy would still be alive?”
“No, kiddo,” Logan said immediately. “You said they were shot. You can be the best fighter in the world, but you’re still gonna lose against a bullet.”
“Except for you.”
Logan smiled grimly. “Bullets will still slow me down, munchkin. And they usually knock me out cold if they hit me in the head.”
Max huffed a strange growling laugh and Logan arched a brow at him. “Sorry,” Max mumbled. “Just saw that playin’ out in my head, complete with sound effects.”
“Guns don’t sound funny, Max,” Elizaveta said seriously.
“No, you’re right,” Max explained. “But I thought about what the bullet might sound like hitting Logan’s head…ting…kinda like flickin’ your fingernail against a cowbell.”
“More cowbell,” Rogue murmured, smirking at Logan. He rolled his eyes, but still smiled back.
* * *
“You okay?” Rogue asked. Logan looked up wearily from his slumped position on one of the kitchen chairs. A bottle of beer was on the table in front of him, condensation beading on the glass and rolling down its sides to form a heavy ring on the scarred wood beneath it. To her knowledge, Logan had never left a beer untouched long enough for that to happen.
Sighing, Logan scrubbed his hands over his face roughly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Kids asleep?”
Rogue nodded as she crossed the room to Logan’s side. She began rubbing his shoulders and neck lightly. “Whatever happened to healin’ sore muscles, Logan? You’re knottier than a piece o’ pine.”
Logan snorted a startled laugh. “Guess I’m finally gettin’ old, darlin’. Workin’ with Max has been fine, but teachin’ the little ones all week has taken more out of me than I expected.”
“Hmm,” Rogue murmured, applying pressure to a particularly nasty knot high on Logan’s back. He groaned and leaned back into her touch. “Don’t think that’s it, sugar.”
Sighing again, Logan closed his eyes. Several minutes passed during which the only sound was the rasp of Rogue’s fingers over Logan’s flannel shirt and the occasional low groan he couldn’t hold back. Finally, when his back and shoulders were beginning to feel somewhat normal again, Logan began speaking in a low voice. “It’s harder teachin’ them than I thought. They all flinch any time my hand comes up. Except for the Munchkin.”
Rogue smiled sadly. “We knew it was likely they had been abused after leavin’ their homes and livin’ on the streets. But I know what you’re sayin’. It’s hard, even knowin’ somethin’ happened, when you come face to face with the proof. You can’t blame them for the way they react.”
“I know. I don’t blame them. It’s just…do they really think I’d hit them?”
Feeling the tension gathering in Logan’s muscles again, Rogue dug in hard with her thumbs. “Now don’t start that again,” she admonished over Logan’s pained moan. “‘Course they don’t think you’d hit them. You think they would have ever agreed to start trainin’ with you if they did?”
“Didn’t really give them a choice, did I? After you finished teachin’ them where to put their feet for proper balance and how to get out of chokehold, we kinda just told them I’d be takin’ over. Think any of them had the guts to object to that?”
Rogue’s hands stilled. “Probably not. And maybe you can’t see it yet, but they’re flinchin’ less every day. It’s only when you move really fast or they’re not ready yet. It was a habit for them long before they got to Xavier’s to protect themselves against a hit.”
Logan turned in his chair and grasped Rogue around the hips. Leaning forward, he pressed his face into her stomach, his words muffled. “Coverin’ their heads and hunchin’ over with their eyes closed isn’t the best way to defend against an attack. Elizaveta’s learnin’ faster than all of them.”
“You’re doin’ fine, Logan,” Rogue said, running her fingers through his hair. “Just keep tellin’ them to open their eyes whenever they flinch like that. Keep tellin’ them to pay attention. You’re patient, and you wait for them to stop shakin’ before goin’ on with the lesson. And Max and Elizaveta are workin’ on ‘em when you’re not around.”
“Hmm?” Logan rumbled the question like a low purr deep in his chest, finally soothed by Rogue’s gentle petting. He felt Rogue’s stomach shake in a silent laugh. “Elizaveta’s all ‘Mr. Logan this and Mr. Logan that.’ And Max has been starting his sentences an awful lot with ‘Logan says.’”
“Really?” Rogue could hear the smile in Logan’s voice.
“Yes, really.” They fell silent again, content with their loose embrace. “You wanna shower before bed?” Rogue finally murmured.
Logan lifted his head slightly and looked up at her, a wicked grin appearing. “Only if you’ll take one with me.”
Rogue giggled and then blushed at the girlish sound. Chuckling, Logan stood up slowly, dragging the front of his body along hers. “I love the fact that you still blush in front of me,” he growled.
“Can’t seem to help it,” Rogue admitted breathlessly. “Think it’ll still be happenin’ when I’m ninety and wrinkled. ‘Specially if you still look like a hot young stud by then.”
“Nah,” Logan murmured, sweeping her up and heading for the stairs. “Hank said your agin’ will probably taper off at some point. We’ll both be young lookin’ for a good long while yet.”
“Good,” Rogue purred throatily, nipping at Logan’s ear. “As much as I love you, I don’t know how much I’d want you if you turned grey and skinny like an old man.”
Logan snorted as he left the stairs and started down the hall toward the bathroom. “Or bald like the professor?”
Rogue reared back in his arms, a look of distaste distorting her features. “I really wish you hadn’t put that image in my mind. Gonna be your fault if I call you ‘Professor’ in the throes of passion.”
Logan winced. “Yuck,” he said mildly. “But if you’re able to think of anybody but me, then I’m obviously not doin’ my job.” Loosening his grip on Rogue, he let her slide down to the floor. He grinned at the hitch in her breathing as he reached behind them to close the door.
“Don’t forget to lock it,” Rogue reminded him mildly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she remembered the morning earlier in the week when Elizaveta had nearly walked in on them.
Logan’s shoulders moved slightly in a silent laugh. “When do you think we’ll be able to move her to a room in the dorms?” he asked, flipping the lock.
“Not soon enough,” Rogue murmured, stepping into him and yanking his shirt down over his arms. His hands effectively trapped, Rogue pushed him back against the door, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.
Logan merely arched his eyebrow in invitation.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Umm...Long time no see. *Sheepish grin*
Chapter End Notes:
Psst...reviews weigh on my already guilty conscience. I promise I haven't abandoned my stories; just bear with me and they will be finished.