Logan, Scott, Jean and Storm were sent out on a mission the next day; another incident in the south. Rogue was not asked, because the mission was meant to do as little unnecessary harm as possible, as Xavier preferred, and she had not yet had any real practice in that area. Also, she had not slept the previous night. She insisted that she could go without sleep for several days. When the others were distracted, Logan asked what happened on day eight.
“Hallucinations. Vivid ones,” Rogue explained succinctly.
She did not wish him luck on the mission; she knew she did not have to.
By the time Kitty approached Rogue’s subterranean den that evening, the machines therein were almost ready to be turned on, and the remaining work to be done, could be done fully clothed. Rogue heard Kitty punch her usual code into the key-lock, and saw the girl on her security monitor––one of the only screens of nearly a dozen that was even connected to power yet. Rogue settled back in her chair (which was inordinately expensive, infinitely adjustable, and somehow still looked like something that would be sat in by an evil genius planning to take over the world) and waited, with a smile and a hint of curiosity.
Kitty stared at the door at first, looking unsure. She tried to use her powers and looked shocked when they didn’t work.
Rogue smiled and mentally scratched ‘phase disruptor’ off her mental checklist, marking it as a success.
Kitty appeared flustered, and finally began examining the door, feeling across it whilst trying to phase through it, then examining the key-code lock. It took her five minutes to hack her way in.
She was greeted by Rogue with: “Very good, now put your hair back in a ponytail and help me with these.”
Two hours later, Kitty would emerge from Rogue’s den in a daze with her head spinning full of hacking concepts. She’d never been as savvy with hardware as she had with software, and once Rogue had started explaining there had been no cease: just constant lessons given clearly and with exactness. Rogue had been clearly able to tell whether Kitty had struggled or understood, and easily adjusted her explanations accordingly.
Initially it had been surreal, hearing droll and precise teacher-intonations in the speech of such a young-looking girl, but that impression had soon vanished for Kitty. By the time she was preparing to leave, Kitty realized that had stopped seeing Rogue’s youth, and come to a startled realization as to something in the way Rogue spoke now and then.
“Your accent...”
“It comes and goes, yeah. Especially when I get pedantic; it brings out aspects I’ve absorbed from Erik. He loved being a teacher, you know.” As Rogue had said it, her words had taken on a dry, almost European air.
Kitty had hesitated. “By ‘Erik’ you mean...”
“Magneto, yes.” Sensing the tension in Kitty’s silence, Rogue added, “I don’t agree with the man on a lot of things, especially so far as politics; however, he is an intelligent, cultured, and interesting man, who has seen his share of war and horror. I haven’t tried to get rid of his better traits––the ones that stuck, anyway.”
“Oh. The professor says the same thing about him, and why he still calls him his old friend,” Kitty murmured.
“No. He thinks that Erik is just misguided. Ah know that he’s actually demented.”
It had been an educational, but somehow unsettling way to spend a large chunk of her evening. And then, right towards the end of her lesson, Logan had showed up. Kitty, who had had to hack her way in, was a little flustered by the easy way Logan had swaggered his way through the door, freshly showered from after the mission, and thus shirtless as he was so often inclined to be.
Of course, shortly after entering, he had grimaced. “Hell. These things’ noise...”
Rogue had only smirked, not looking up from her work, as seemed to be normal for her. “Ah’ve barely plugged anything in, yet, Sugah. By the time Ah’m up an’ runnin’, ya won’t be able to stand exposure for more than five minutes before gettin’ one hell of a headache.”
Logan snorted. “What about you, then, darlin’?”
Kitty had done a mental double-take at the endearment, but said nothing.
“Ah’m resistant to electromagnetic interference, and my senses aren’t as sharp as yours. When Ah’m focused, it sounds like peace to me.” Absently, Rogue’s fingers lightly trailed across a keyboard, as though she half-contemplated playing part of the Goldberg Variations on it. Then she looked up and met Kitty’s gaze. “Have you had enough, this evening?”
Kitty nodded. “Yeah. It’s a lot to take in. Maybe give me a night or two to work some of it out on my own?”
Rogue nodded, a small smirk on her face. “Sure. Go on.”
When Kitty left, her head heavy with information, Rogue was very aware, even without looking, of Logan stepping closer. Her gaze settled first on his naked torso for a few lingering, admiring moments, before roving up to look into his eyes.
“How was the mission?”
“I understand why you left the south,” he rumbled, and there were lingering traces of ire and frustration in his facial expression; although it was not directed at her.
Rogue turned to face him a little more, and raised one hand to the back of his neck, running her fingers up and down the back of his neck, occasionally running up further into the damp hair at the base of his skull; her touch was somewhere between stroking and scratching, and felt marvelous. Logan’s head drooped forward and he gave a contented murmur as Rogue’s arm draped over his shoulder so that she could more comfortably maintain the contact. “Ah did, originally. Ah went back as far as Austin, Texas, once or twice, an’ lived in New Mexico for a while. New Mexico people can be delightfully liberal and insane, but insane in the good way,” she assured him.
“Mm?”
“Well, Ah’m insane, but yer not exactly complainin’. New Mexico has people with the kinda crazy that does cool things. So does Austin.”
“I see,” Logan murmured, aware of the way his muscles were all instinctively relaxing under the actions of Rogue’s fingers. He wondered what else she knew about how to affect his body; so he asked her.
Rogue smirked. “Well now, Sugah, why would Ah ruin the surprise?”
Logan gave a low rumbling growl, but it was more sexy than threatening, and he rested a hand on her lower back, pulling her a little closer. Rogue’s smirk widened even as her pulse quickened as he lifted his head to look into her eyes. Her breath caught when he turned them both, pinning her hips to the table with his and capturing her lips in a kiss.
Rogue’s fingers clutched at the back of his neck instinctively as her free hand ran up his chest, shivering at the feel if his warm bare skin and the shapes of the muscles beneath it. He had the advantage of the first move, and his kiss made her almost dizzy. He tasted like rain and the smoky flavor of bourbon without the bite of alcohol. When he broke the kiss, Rogue gave a low, wanting purr as she opened her eyes.
Now it was Logan who was smirking. “You forgot to eat again, didn’t you?”
“Ah stopped for lunch,” Rogue said with mock-defensiveness. “However briefly.”
He shook his head, and pulled her out of the room. She followed him to the kitchen. They both stopped smiling when they were met there by Hank, who looked from Rogue to Logan, back and forth, with his too-insightful gaze and too-intent curiosity, even as he greeted them with immaculately smooth politeness.
Before they asked, he explained, “I arrived only shortly before you did, and spoke with Xavier in the interim. I was just about to seek you out, Rogue.” He sipped at what appeared to be brandy. “And you as well, Logan. There has been a recent political sea change of sorts. Would you like to have a seat?”
“I’d suggest letting us get some food first,” Logan replied, a hint of warning in his voice.
Rogue smirked a little and made her way to the refrigerator. She pulled out some leftover pot roast while Logan got out a large plate. Hank watched patiently as they warmed up what looked like enough for four people. If he had not known Logan as well as he did, he might have assumed that they planned on sharing with him, but they kept the plate between them, and did not even offer him silverware as they began to eat.
After taking her first bite, Rogue turned to Hank and asked, “So you got my message about that new recruiting video from everyone’s favorite terrorist group?”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Magneto or Bin Laden?”
“The latter,” Rogue said.
“Yes. Your speed of detection is quite impressive. It put me ahead of any of the intelligence agencies, and allowed the President and I to work on damage control. I do not want to think about what might’ve happened if certain parts of the CIA had gotten their hands on it first.” Hank swirled his brandy in its glass.
Rogue turned to Logan and explained, “They sent out a mutant-oriented recruitment video. They wanna take advantage of our potential as weapons, and how oppressed we are by western nations. We’re a boon for ‘em, really, especially with how many scared an’ lost mutant kids get thrown outta the house. They’re vulnerable an’ confused: perfect targets for religious an’ ideological conversion.”
Logan nodded. “Damage control, indeed. How’re you plannin’ to stop a witch-hunt for mutant terrorists now? Or an extermination of ‘possible recruits’?”
“By taking advantage of the public’s feelings toward Stryker, Genosha, and the current president. I’ve had a look at the president’s speech, and it’s quite promising.”
“A speech will only get ya so far, even with an orator like him. What’d he think of my suggestions?” Rogue inquired.
Hank tapped his fingers on the counter in a quiet, nervous rhythm. “He is uneasy, but has already begun putting together a team to implement them. This is totally unknown legal theory, Rogue. Even science fiction has scarcely dreamed of the philosophies behind it.”
Logan guessed, “He’s working on mutant civil rights?”
“Yes. The look on his face when he told me...He never wanted to fight an ideological war, especially after that of the previous administration, but he has found that this is something upon which he cannot compromise. From both a practical and moral standpoint, he wants us on his side, and he wants this country to be as much a land of tolerance and opportunity for us as it has been for him, and millions of others from around the world.”
“As far as his personality, he’s a younger, more human version of Xavier, without the psychic powers,” Rogue murmured. “Although Ah think he has more charisma, and a more political mind, but those are good things. There’s one thing he’s gotta do in his speech that no politician in American history has done before.”
“What’s that?” Hank asked, sounding worried.
Rogue and Logan exchanged a knowing glance.
“He’s gotta look the whole country in the eye and say, ‘we, as a nation, were and are in the wrong, and must make amends,’” Logan said.
Rogue added, “Just make sure he starts off mentionin’ the new enemies, though, so that people remember how much they believe in him, an’ how they were effected by Stryker’s trials and Genosha’s attack. Remind ‘em that the economy of right now has left the country vulnerable in more ways than one. Then tell ‘em how much of a wasted resource we are, and that some of us have been savin’ their asses for a long damned time already. Tell ‘em who really stopped the Genoshan attack. Then tell ‘em about the new video, and what our enemies are tryin’ to do.”
Hank nodded, committing the ideas to memory. “You’re impressively politically savvy, yourself, Rogue.”
She shrugged. “It comes with the territory.”
“Indeed. It’s also part of why I plan to offer to extend your contract.” He turned to Logan. “And to offer you one, too, Logan.”
“What does the government want from me?” he growled.
“We would like to take on the both of you in an advisory capacity with major oversight capablities, for reforming all mutant-related aspects of our current military. You yourself, Logan, have more experience with military training than most anyone alive, and also the most experience with training young mutants for combat situations.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You want to recruit mutants to fight your wars for you?”
“Fighting Genosha is more than just this country’s war, Logan,” Hank countered.
Logan gave a low growl, but quieted when Rogue reached over and settled her hand over his, running her thumb across his knuckles. Neither of them spared a glance for Hank, or the way his eyebrows rose at the sight of the gesture.
“Unfortunately, he’s right. Ya saw the sentinels. Those’re just the start.” She drew her hand away and took a sip from her glass of water. “How long a contract are we talkin’, Hank? A few years? Or do ya plan on keepin’ us around even after you an’ your boss ain’t in charge anymore?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“We want you to help up form the framework, hopefully so that it will last without your constant presence––which is to say, resistant both to outside politics and the ravages of time,” Hank said firmly. “I can think of no two better engineers, but if you can think of any...”
Rogue and Logan exchanged glances yet again, this time looking grudgingly accepting. “Not anybody still alive and available,” Logan ceded.
“Can I count on you, then?” Hank asked.
Rogue and Logan shared one last look, seeking confirmation and assurance, and then both looked at Hank and nodded.
“Good. Good. Thank you both.”
“When is the speech?” Rogue inquired.
“The day after tomorrow, but it will get an utterly astounding amount of anxious press tomorrow. We want to get as many listeners as possible, all over the world.” Even under his air of determination and ever-present coat of blue fur, Hank looked uneasy. “Let’s hope it works.”
“Hope is his forte,” Logan murmured.
Hank gave a bitterly amused smile. “Yes, but it isn’t hope that’s turning his hair white. I’ll leave you now, if you don’t mind.”
“Ah’m sure yer very busy. Good luck, Doc,” Rogue said.
“Thank you. Goodnight to you both.”
“Bye, Hank,” Logan dismissed.
The politician left, and Rogue finished the last bite of roast.
“Si vis pacem para bellum,” Logan muttered darkly under his breath.
“And Ah thought the previous administration had issues with ius ad bellum,” Rogue countered, shaking her head. “And they want our help buildin’ it.” She looked heavily contemplative. “Sea change indeed.”
Logan snorted, a smirk on his lips, even if the amusement did not fully reach his eyes. “They must be desperate.”
“Well, they’ve got pretty limited choices.” Rogue tapped a staccato pattern on the counter with her fingernails, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully for a few moments. Then she sighed and pushed her hair back out of her face, slightly regretting that she had cut it just slightly too short to tie it back out of the way. “Ah’m not gonna get a lotta sleep for a while.”
Logan frowned. “Get it when you can.”
Rogue nodded. “Ah know. Trust me, Logan, when Ah’m in an ad bellam mindset, Ah don’t lose track a’ time. Ah remember to take in needed resources. It’s not like when Ah’m...just gettin’ lost in my work an’ havin’ fun with it.” She sighed a little more irritably. “Days like this, Ah start feelin’ kinda misanthropic.”
Logan nodded, giving a low affirmative sound. Rogue didn’t resist him when he reached over and pulled her off her barstool and into his lap. She only rested her arms on his shoulders and settled her knees on either side of his hips. Logan’s hands stroked up and down her sides lazily as he examined her face. “How much work do you have waitin’?”
Smiling sadly, Rogue shook her head. “Too much.” She leaned in and rested her forehead on his. “Enough to last me ‘til tomorrow night.”
“With or without some extra time off for a while up here?” Logan rumbled, his hands roaming lower, across her hips and outer thighs.
Rogue bit her lip. “If we started, could we really stop tonight?”
Logan thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it a little more, his hands still moving, until Rogue caught one that had started to creep up along her inner thigh.
“Logan,” she reminded him gently.
“Just thinkin’ it over thoroughly,” he mused, and she could hear him smirking. Then his voice lowered, sounding reluctant as he finally concluded, “I’d have you up ‘til dawn, and then you’d really need your rest.”
Rogue shivered ever so slightly, and rubbed the back of his neck. “What Ah’d give t’ have the time, Sugah.”
“Go on, then, before I try to persuade you that ya do. With my tongue.”
Rogue bit her lip again, harder this time, and reluctantly slid off his lap. “Ah’ll make it up to ya. Promise.” She flashed a mischievous grin and left the kitchen.
Logan leaned back on the counter, cursing quietly under his breath until his pants felt less tight and he was able to feel the same sense of misanthropy that Rogue had mentioned. “Damn,” he muttered. “Damn.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he got to his feet. “Damn.”
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Chapter End Notes:
Si vis pacem para bellum: Means "if you want peace prepare for war"
Ius ad bellum: Means "law towards war"