I got the call at 5 fm that Tuesday morning. Yeah, that's right; five fucking in the morning was when they woke me up from my restless sleep. I still don't know if I should thank them or not, since the nightmares were pretty bad that night, but I needed that sleep!
I guess I wasn't too nice when I answered the damn phone ringing in my ear. Can you blame me?
"Yeah?"
"Logan, we need you here." That was Jeanie. I'd recognize her voice anywhere, even though I hadn't heard it in a few years. Maybe they thought I'd respond best to her.
"What the fuck? How'd you get this number, Red?" I was pretty confused, since I'd only contacted Xavier four or five times at the most, never from the same place, just to check up on the kid. Even so, I was sure that I'd covered my tracks well enough that no one could find me. I'd had the need to. Unless...
"Professor Xavier found out where you were using Cerebro, but we thought you'd be more comfortable with an actual phone call," she told me, not really explaining more than how they'd found me.
"Jean, what the hell's goin' on? It's 5 am here, and I was getting some much needed rest--"
"It's about Rogue," Jean said, interrupting me. I shut my trap and listened, 'cause from the tone of her voice "it" wasn't anything good. "She absorbed a member of the team who was dying. No one you'd know; Carol was new. Anyway, when Carol entered Rogue's mind, she was able to reveal to us some things that Rogue was doing to herself. Logan, she...well, I'm not sure how to put this."
"Just spit it out, Jeanie," I growled out even as I rolled out of bed and pulled on my jeans.
"Well, Rogue discovered some time ago--probably around the same time that you left--that she could relive the memories of people she has touched rather vividly. Through those memories, she could touch again, if only in her mind. To her, the experience was as real as she was sure she'd ever get. Rogue became addicted to the touch, Logan. Like every addict, she began to do dangerous things just to get another fix. In her case, that meant touching our enemies when we went into battles, gaining their psyches and memories. She was able to suppress the psyches using meditations which the professor taught her, but she did something incredibly perilous to her mental health; Rogue would reach into her mind and sort through the memories of her victims, looking for memories of touch, replaying them in her mind like interactive TV shows where she was always the leading role," Jean explained.
I guess you could say I got a little angry at that. My claws popped out, and it's a lucky thing that my hand was just resting on the bed. Mattresses are easy to replace.
“Rogue would never victimize anyone, Jean," I told her sharply.
Jean's tone was gentle and firm all at once when she replied, "But she did, Logan, and that's something that we're going to have to face if we're going to help her recover from her addiction. The withdrawal may be incredibly fierce. She was delving into the memories at least four times a day. It's lucky we found out what was happening last night. Much longer...well, I don't know if her mind could have handled it."
I had latched onto the phrasing of what she had said at the beginning of all that. "We? Who else is working with her?" I didn't want some stranger to fuck around in Marie's head.
"The Professor and I are going to do everything we can to help Rogue get through this. Which brings me to why I called you," Jean said, hesitating in a way that I didn't recognize.
I should have expected it. Don't know why I didn't. I guess the thought of returning to the mansion any time soon hadn't really occurred to me. I'd had too much shit to deal with, for far too long, to think about the future much.
"We need your help as well, Logan. Rogue trusts you. Your psyche in her mind is still strong, although it should have faded long ago. We believe that's because she's accessed your memories so much during the years that she's had them that the parts of your mind which you gave her have sort of integrated themselves into her own psyche. Regardless of the how's and why's, Rogue will need your strength and the strength of the emotional bond she has to you, to recover from her addiction," Jean told me, each word almost flowing into the next, as if she was afraid I'd refuse if she gave me the smallest amount of time before she was finished saying what she had to say.
To tell you the truth, and this will probably make me seem like a pretty egocentric bastard, I actually enjoyed the thought of me being so permanently in Marie's mind. I squashed that feeling, though, because Marie's health was a much more important issue which I'd have to devote all of my concentration to. I didn't stop to consider why it was so important to me that she recover. It just was.
I've had some experience with rehabilitating people in the near-twenty years that I can remember. It'd be tough, I knew, even if Marie's addiction wasn't necessarily physiological. Yeah, I know words like that. What's it to ya?
I realized that Jean had been waiting for my answer to her not-voiced question during the time I'd been thinking all of this through, so I said gruffly, "I'm on my way. Make sure my room's ready. And, Jean? Put an extra bed in it. The kid'll sleep in there until this thing is resolved. She's gonna need the support, like you said."
I don't know if I thought Jean would protest. Well, that's not the truth. I thought she would, and loudly, but all she said was, "All right, Logan. We'll be expecting you."
I hung up the phone and just sat there on my motel bed for a few minutes, thinking. It was something I'd been doing too much lately, once all of the action in my life died down some and I had time for anything other than the hunt. But we won't get into that right now.
What I was thinking about was Marie. Each time I called the Professor to make sure that nothing was wrong, I'd hear glowing reports about her. She'd graduated with honors. She was doing wonderfully in her training sessions with the other X-Men. She had helped a child whose telepathic abilities were similar to her life-absorbing mutation in that the boy would drain any mind he touched with psychic fingers dry. She was holding her own on missions. That's the last thing I'd heard of her, before that day.
Dammit, Marie, I thought. Why couldn't you just get over what happened and go on to live a normal girl's life? That's what I wanted when I saved you; just for you to be happier than I've been. But I guess that didn't work out very well, did it? I'm gonna change that, though, kid, whether you like it or not.
With that resolve ringing in my head, I stood up and got my gear together. Then I went outside and hopped onto my--well, Scooter's--motorcycle. I was on the highway and headed southeast within a few minutes. It felt good, to have the wind rushing over me. I concentrated on the road, knowing that if I let my mind wander I'd probably get myself wrecked, in the mood I was in. I'm sure Scooter would've loved having his precious bike back in several pieces. Yeah, I'd have gotten a *real* warm reception for that one.
Although, ya know, it kinda rankled that they hadn't bothered to ask me to come back until something happened to the kid. Sure, I imagine they thought they were just respecting my privacy, giving me time to deal with the personal shit I'd been trying to wade through for too many years. Of course, they could've acted a little more worried about me. Used Cerebro and found out where I was, even if there wasn't a dire situation at hand. I probably wouldn't have minded much.
Hell, actually, it would've been great to hear the kid's voice a few times during those years. To hear her talk about her life, the things that were going on around her. Probably would've helped her, too. But the Professor had said that she was dealing with her separation from me in her own way, and that he didn't really think it'd do her any good to have the emotional pain dragged to the surface again. I wanted to tell him that was a load of bullshit, but a tiny part of me convinced myself that he was right; she'd be better off if I left her alone.
Except I couldn't now. I had to be there for the one person who'd touched my soul and made me give a damn again. Even if it meant going to a place where I wasn't all that welcome, where a group of vigilantes were probably still kinda upset that I hadn't joined their little group to fight against the "forces of evil."
I wasn't paying attention to the road, thinking all about what my homecoming--and, strangely enough, that's what it felt like--would be like. Thankfully, I didn't collide with anything, although seeing a huge semi about 15 kilometers in front of me was an eye-opener that had me renewing my resolve to keep my mind on the drive.
Even using that pretty button of Scooter's when I was alone on the bare road, it took me two days and seven hours to get to the mansion. I passed through the gates just as lunch was ending. That meant that when I walked through the door, I was mobbed by kids going to their next classes.
Jean was leaving the dining room ahead of the others, probably to go check on Marie, so she saw me first. Her tired eyes lit up with what I recognized as relief. I could tell from the dark circles under her eyes that she hadn't been getting much sleep, and that worried me.
"What's up?" I asked, leaning against a wall, trying to act as casual as I could. As if that would help calm the sudden twisting of my stomach.
"Logan!" That was Scooter, and he didn't sound as happy to see me as Jean looked. He glared at me, in fact, when he saw me. I could tell even with the glasses. "Where's my bike?" Funny, I kinda thought that'd be the first thing outa the man's mouth when he saw me.
"You know, Scooter, it's a funny thing you mentioned that..." I couldn't resist jerking the tight-assed puppy's chain, even in these serious times.
"What did you do with my bike?" Scooter asked me in this voice I suppose he thought sounded dangerous.
"It's just that there was this semi up near Alberta that--"
"Dammit, you asshole, did you wreck my bike?" Whoa, maybe Cyke was a little more stressed than I'd originally thought.
It was only because I was anxious to get to Marie that I decided to tell the truth and be done with it. Well, that and the looks of anger that Jean and Storm were flashing me. Damn, those two women sure know how to deliver what's commonly known as The Look. Shit.
"Nothin's wrong with your bike, One-Eye. It's as shiny as the day I too--borrowed it. All nice an' bright, just for ya. Now, go play with it in the garage while Jeanie here takes me to see Rogue," I told him sharply. It felt good to at least be able to snap at the man who irritated me the most.
Jean just shook her head and took my arm to lead me down the hall, completely ignoring the hostile glares Scooter and I were sharing. Hmph. Interfering woman. Of course, as soon as I thought that I remembered my comment about Marie and I felt like an ass, but I just couldn't help letting those two words slip into my mind.
"How is she?" I asked the redheaded doctor.
"She's still trying to recover from everything that happened. We believe that she's been sorting out the events of her life over the last few days. Mostly because she’s been very audible about it. She stopped just before you got here," she told me shortly, obviously still a little miffed.
Yeah, I know, what's a word like miffed doin' in my vocab? Don't ask me. Comes from hangin' around these types too much. And yeah, I know that I probably shouldn’t have come back if I think a little more than a week is “too much”, but I couldn’t let the kid down.
Anyway, Jean led me down to the lower levels and through some metal corridors until we reached a room I knew well. The door opened quietly, and I could see that the room was dark except for four bright lights above the bed that held...Marie.
Damn. I mean, I knew I'd been gone for a few years, but I hadn't realized what that'd mean in regards to the beautiful kid I'd left behind. Nah, I guess I just thought she'd stay the same. Forever the Marie I remembered.
Well, the woman lying on that table resembled Marie. There were the white locks in the front of her hair, mixed in a little because it was mussed. The lips were the same, wide and pouty enough so that I'd had a hard time not thinking certain things about her from the get-go. Her face had more of a lean look to it, as if years had taken away the little baby fat she'd had left and replaced it with elegance.
However, as my eyes traveled to the body covered by a silver sheet, I knew that this couldn't possibly be Marie. She didn't *have* curves that would make a man want to beg just to touch 'em, dammit. She didn't have legs that look like they might be a mile long, and she sure as hell didn't have smoothly defined muscles lying beneath the pale, smooth skin of her arms.
Marie would've looked up, too, and smiled when she saw me. But the woman on the bed just laid there, her stare fixed on the bright lights above her.
"Logan." It was the Professor. He'd been sitting quietly in the shadows, and he wheeled himself over to the doorway to join us. "Thank you for coming. Jean, I'm rather tired now. Would you mind taking over?" he asked. I could hear, could smell, hell, could see how exhausted he was. What the fuck had caused that?
"Of course, Professor. You go on upstairs and get some sleep. I can handle the next six hours or so," Jean replied.
The Professor looked up at me, and he must've read the confusion I felt, either in my face or in my mind, for the hard expression in his eyes softened and he smiled slightly. "We have to keep a constant watch on Rogue, to make sure that she doesn't try to access any memories besides her own. It's going to be a hard few weeks on Jean and myself," he commented as he wheeled away.
“She’s able to see and hear us,” Jean told me as she walked over to Marie’s bedside. “She just hasn’t bothered to respond since she woke up from a sedative I gave her Tuesday afternoon. She’ll mumble things, mostly fragments of events that have happened to her since you’ve been gone. She doesn’t respond to anything we try to do, but it appeared a couple of hours ago as if she was almost finished with reviewing her life, so maybe she’s ready to come back from wherever her mind has taken her,” Jean said as she checked Marie’s vitals. Her expression was sad, but there was a tinge of anger there that I thought I understood.
“I don’t like being reduced to a pronoun,” Marie said calmly. She turned her head and looked up at Jean. “So, I guess I worried everyone yet again.” There was more bitterness in her tone than I’d ever wanted to hear come from her.
Before Jean could answer, I stepped into Marie’s line of sight. “Hey, kid,” I said, and then I stopped because I didn’t know what else I could say.
Her eyes, so dark and piercing, were too old for her face. She looked at me, and I could tell she wanted to smile, but it was as if she didn’t know how anymore. The corners of her mouth did tilt up a little, and she raised a hand covered in black silk to pull a chain out of the collar of the thin cotton nightshirt she was wearing.
“Guess you came back for these, Logan,” Marie said.
I couldn’t speak for a moment, and then I told her, “No, you keep ‘em, Marie. Don’t know what I’d use ‘em for anymore. And I came back ‘cause I heard you were sick.”
I shouldn’t have tried to soften it any because her eyes got cold and hard. “I’m not sick, Logan. I’m a recovering addict who’s pretty much on the border of psycho,” she informed me harshly.
“That makes ya sick in my book, kid,” I said firmly. I reached down and took her hand in mine, but she pulled it away so quick and hard that I was caught off guard and went flying over her bed and crashed to the floor.
“What the hell?” I shouted, surprised. I got up and glared at Jean. She hadn’t told me the whole story, that much was very obvious.
“When Rogue absorbed Carol’s mind completely, her powers came along for the ride, Logan. Permanently,” Jean hastened to explain.
“Yeah, now I’ve got super strength and the ability to fly, even though I can’t control any of it,” Marie said. She sounded so depressed that I stood and walked over to her again, laying my hand on her shoulder. She didn’t shrug away.
“You will be able to, though. You just need some practice, that’s all,” Jean said as cheerfully as she could.
Marie just gave the doctor her own version of the Look and turned to me. “When did you get here?” she asked softly.
“Just now. I wanted to see you first thing,” I told her, hoping it would make her happy, or at least content or something—anything—except sad.
“Oh.” Marie was quiet for a while, then she asked, “Why didn’t you come before?”
I felt something in my throat tighten. Damn, I’d been dreading that question. Well, I wasn’t going to give her anything except the truth. “I found out some things about my past. It wasn’t everything, but it was enough to send me into hiding for a while. I was makin’ myself too conspicuous,” I tried to explain.
Maybe it worked because her smile got a little bigger. “Well, as long as you weren’t just staying away ‘cause you never wanted to see me—us, again,” she said, looking quickly at Jean. I did wonder about that, but I let it go.
“I’d never have done that, Marie,” I told her, stepping closer so that I could pull her into my arms. She hugged me back tight, although she was obviously trying to hold back some of her new strength. I buried my face in her hair and just held on.
She was the one to pull back, although not very far. “So, now that you’re here, are they gonna let me out of this place?” Marie asked, raising her eyebrow. I knew where she’d gotten that particular trait from, and again I felt that weird pride. Not like I owned her or anything, but like she had a part of me and always would. That felt good.
Jean was just looking at us with a neutral expression. “I’d say you’re fit to leave, Rogue. Just take it easy,” she instructed.
Marie flipped to covers back to reveal that she wore black leggings and white socks as well as the cotton shirt. She slipped off the bed and gave it a nasty look then turned to me.
“Walk me to my room?” she asked.
“Actually, Marie, that’s something we’re gonna have to talk about…”
“So, I’m rooming with you,” Marie said for what had to have been the fifth time. She sat Indian style on the spare bed that had been set up, looking around. She was trying to act all casual and not pulling it off very well.
“Yeah. I thought you might be more comfortable, you know, with someone near,” I said uncomfortably from where I sat on the edge of my own bed, facing her.
She looked out the window at the fading light of the sky. Her face was almost expressionless when she said, “That’d be nice.” I almost missed the relief in her voice.
“Look, Marie, I know that you must’ve had plenty of chances to sleep while you were down in the metal room,” I said, trying to make a joke and not getting very far. “But it’s pretty much night time anyway, so why don’t you just take a shower and then hit the sack?”
“Tired of my company already, Logan?” she asked. I looked at her, wide-eyed. Shit, I didn’t think she’d get that in her head! She stared back at me, her eyes just as wide and even more serious than they had been earlier.
“Never, Marie. Never,” was the only thing I could think of to say.
It seemed to reassure her. She almost-smiled again and stood up. “That shower sounds good. Looks like they moved everything of mine in here. Someone had a busy two days,” she commented as she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
I took a moment to think about what the next days would be like. Next days? Hell, next months, more likely. But I wondered if they’d all be like this, kinda quiet and restrained. Would she ever be able to talk to me, to tell me her troubles like she’d done one other time, on that damn train before Magneto came? Would I be able to tell her about what had kept me from her for so long?
I dozed off with those questions swimming around in my head. It might have been the opening of the door that woke me, or the smell that was all Marie and strawberry shampoo mixed with melon shower gel. Either way, the first thing I saw was Marie standing in the bathroom doorway, surrounded by the light from the room behind her. The bedroom was dark since the sun had set at some point while I’d been asleep, but that didn’t stop me from seeing that the only thing Marie wore was a silk bathrobe that might as well not have been there at all.
Damn.
I think that’s when I realized it. I loved her. Marie. My Marie, with her dark hair all wet and her skin smelling fresh and her eyes practically glowing in the dark when she looked at me.
Damn.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
This is the sequel to a story I wrote a long, long time ago, "Dance Among the Stars."
Dislaimer: I don't own them. I'd like to, really I would, but I don't and I'll learn to deal with it some day. Or at least, that's what my therapist says.
Dislaimer: I don't own them. I'd like to, really I would, but I don't and I'll learn to deal with it some day. Or at least, that's what my therapist says.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Logan returns to try and help Rogue recover.
Chapter End Notes:
And so it begins.