“Whatcha gonna do with a cowboy
When that old rooster crows at dawn,
And he's lyin' there instead
Of gettin’ outta bed,
And puttin’ on his boots and gettin’ gone?
Whatcha gonna do when he says, ‘Honey,
I got a half a mind to stay’?
Whatcha gonna do with a cowboy,
When he don’t saddle up and ride away?”
Marie flipped off the radio. “Y’know, you really should wear your seatbelt.”
It was the first time either of them had spoken in nearly an hour. Logan’s eyebrow inched upward. “I do not need advice on auto safety.” That came out pretty rough, so he tried for a more conciliatory tone. “Er, by the way, I’ll fix that squeaky belt for ya when we get back to the mansion. Prob’ly could stand to be replaced.”
“Well, well, aren’t I lucky to have a big, strong man like you around, sugar?” He was pretty sure that was sarcastic. He glanced over and the scowl on her face confirmed it. “I can fix my own damn car.”
“You can’t even drive your own damn car,” he said nastily, then regretted it. “Shit. I didn’t mean—“
“Ugh. Me neither. Sorry. ”
Logan didn’t know what to say to that. “We uh, we should pull off soon and gas up.”
“Good. I need coffee.”
“No, we can’t go inside,” he hesitated, then added, “darlin’. I’ll pay at the pump.”
She didn’t seem to respond to the endearment, negatively or positively. He figured that was about the best he could hope for at this point. She had called him sugar. But then, she called everyone sugar. Why was he so worried about it, anyway? It was just a name. Darlin’. Baby. He always called her that. Some things hadn’t changed. He was still the alpha, he told himself, and he’d call her whatever he damn well pleased. And she’d better answer to it without any more of this bratty, childish attitude. Yeah.
She was saying something. “. . . just a cup of coffee. It’ll be fine. Look, I’m sorry I was hateful to ya. Nothin’ personal. It just gets awful tirin’, havin’ to be inside and outside my head at the same time.”
Logan really didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never admit it to her, but part of him did wonder if she was a little . . . off. Mentally. Everyone seemed to think she was, including herself, and he didn’t want to make it any worse. “Ah . . . okay. Okay, we’ll get some coffee.”
------------------------------
Logan whispered, “Hey, this was your idea. Calm down, I got ya.” He stepped behind Marie and pulled her against him. She resisted briefly, and he couldn’t help but growl a warning.
She ducked her head and settled into the embrace, still trembling with anger. “Why’s he starin’? Why’s he smell like that?” she hissed.
Logan rubbed his hands over her stomach in circles. He knew she used to like that. He hoped she still did. “Doesn’t matter, baby,” he mumbled into her hair, noting that his visceral response to her scent was waning. It was still a very good scent, though. He nuzzled into her a little more, wrapping his big frame around her in the hope that it would help her feel safe. And shield her from that asshole’s view. “Doesn’t matter, ‘cause I won’t let’im near ya. He wouldn’t even try it. Y’know I’d kill’im if he did.”
“That ain’t exactly reassurin’, sugar. And y’know I’d kill’im if he did . . . whether I wanted to or not.” The guy’s scent rose, and she growled, gripping Logan’s forearms through his jacket with a strength that seemed impossible from those little hands. “Why do I feel this way? It doesn’t bother me like this when you—why’s he smell—“
“Shhh.” He kept rubbing her stomach until the trembling stopped. He began fingering the chain at her neck, feeling secure in his claim when she responded with a whimper. “I need ya to stay calm, baby, ‘cause I need to stay calm. Got it?” The coffee machine had forty-five seconds left on its brewing cycle. He could stay calm for forty-five seconds. Anybody could keep from walking across a dingy gas station and ripping out some eyeballing bastard’s throat for forty-five seconds, right? He sure hoped so.
-------------------------------
Neil allowed himself to stare as he waited by the restrooms, mainly because there was nothing better to do and it wasn’t like it was hurting anybody. That was the kind of body you seldom saw outside of magazines. Not too much or too little of anything, just perfect proportions from what he could tell. She was pretty in the face, too. But young. Way too pretty and young to have those trashy white streaks dyed into her hair, to be wearing that biker jacket and those skin-tight black jeans. And bad girl or not, she was definitely too pretty and young to be with the letch who was now groping her and whispering filthy things in her ear.
After spending half his military career as a CID agent, Neil had seen more than he ever cared to when it came to unhealthy relationships and domestic abuse. And he couldn’t imagine this being anything else. The man was old enough to be her father and then some; she looked barely out of her teens, if that. There was a time he would have walked over and asked if she was all right, but he reminded himself that he had little Becca with him and didn’t need to go starting any trouble. Besides, he could count on one hand the number of times in his career he’d actually convinced the victim to leave the relationship. Talking to her would probably just set off her boyfriend, and then she’d face the brunt of his anger later. Neil sure as hell didn’t need that on his conscience.
Still, nothing wrong with looking.
“All clean, Daddy. I used soap. Promise.”
Neil spun around with a practiced smile. His patience was wearing thin, but he tried to be good-natured about it. He didn’t get to see his daughter as often as he’d like. “Alright, Princess. Let’s hit the road. Again.” He took her by the hand.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, pleeeeeaaaaase . . .”
He had a pretty good idea what she was going to ask, and after six stops in as many hours, he didn’t have it in him to argue. He walked over to the drink area, scanning the shelves for grape soda . . .
---------------------------------
“Just stop. I can’t take any more whining today. You want a pop?”
Logan barely had time to react when Marie snarled and lunged. His arms tightened around her, and she unexpectedly dragged his massive bulk—which resulted in her coming up several feet short of the man and his daughter. Logan realized she was hovering about an inch off the ground and tried to yank her down. She growled threateningly, and the man spun, wide-eyed, two cans of grape soda clenched reflexively in his hands.
“What the—?” he dropped the cans and grabbed his daughter, shoving her behind him. She began to cry.
Marie flinched when the cans clattered to the floor. She ceased levitating and stumbled backwards against Logan, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so—“
--------------------------------
Neil watched in bewilderment, one hand instinctively reaching for the holster he no longer wore, as the young woman shrank away. Her eyes, which had seemed to flash gold like an animal’s, were deep green again and welling up with tears.
Her boyfriend had already pulled her out of the store and into their Jeep before Neil’s mind caught up to him. He tried to picture its plates . . . New York, maybe K8 something . . . he couldn’t remember. Damn. He turned to his daughter, scooping her up in his arms. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay. They’re gone.” Shit. Those freaks. She was growling—can’t believe I almost felt sorry for—crazy bitch nearly attacked my— “Princess, are you alright?”
“Hey, what’s going on over there?” the station owner asked, reaching under the counter.
Neil carried the girl towards the exit, grape sodas long forgotten. He shot a mean look at the owner. “Why don’t you ask the mutie freaks that just tried to attack us? Thanks for your help, you stupid son of a—“
“Daddy, I wanna go,” Becca cried, tugging at his shirt. He sighed roughly, trying to breathe through the adrenaline rush, control the anger and not let it control him. MP training at work. He hurried across the lot, trying not to think about those freakish golden eyes. God almighty, can’t even take your kids out anymore without worrying about mutants. What’s society coming to?
Neil settled his daughter into her booster seat, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He couldn’t wait to get back to Delaware. And if the state ended up passing that mutant segregation law, more the better.
----------------------------------
Logan tried not to deform the steering wheel with his adamantium-enforced grip. He was pissed as hell, hadn’t wanted to go inside in the first place, knew she wasn’t ready for this. Chuck’s position on his X-men exposing their mutations was pretty clear: Unless it’s a dire emergency, don’t. Cause for disciplinary action were his exact words. The people at the resort may have been safely under the telepath’s watch, but this was a whole different ballpark. A gas station, and who knew what that guy with the kid had seen, and what he would say. Might even file a complaint with the police. At least Logan had picked a grungy place. Bars on the doors and windows, but no security camera, as far as he could tell.
The hell was the asshole thinkin’ takin’ a kid into a place like that, anyway? And what was I thinkin’, trustin’ Marie’s judgment when even she thinks she’s got a couple screws loose up there? Hoverin’ off the ground in public. Shit.
Now Logan would have to explain this, and there would be damage control, and Chuck would want a full written report of the incident, and . . . and he had enough on his plate just keeping himself and his mate sane right now.
He really had a good thing going with the X-men, the best opportunity that had ever come along in his miserable cage-fighting, contract-killing existence, and he didn’t want to spoil this. Not the job, not his chance with Marie, none of it.
Now that he’d gotten a taste of it, Logan wanted this life, this existence Xavier had promised, where all he had to do was make good choices and he could have all the things other people, good people, had. Honor and dignity. A purpose in life besides getting revenge on the people who destroyed him.
And a woman. One who stole his heart without a single word—yet who was now growing farther from him with every second of silence. He couldn’t lose her. He had to fix this somehow. “You wanna tell me what that was about?” he asked as evenly as he could through clenched teeth.
“No.” She turned, looking out the window and putting her back to him.
Logan growled, unable to hold back. “He wasn’t gonna do nothin’. Told ya I had it under control. For chrissakes, he was there with his kid! And even if he did try to—I woulda—you shoulda let me handle it. I coulda done it without risking exposure, Rogue. Thought you had better sense than that.”
“Obviously not,” she bit out.
Logan felt the wheel bend slightly, and carefully loosened his fingers. “I hated what he was doin’, so I can only guess how much you hated it. But it didn’t mean . . . Men, they . . . they see somethin’, and they start thinkin’ things, and . . . just ‘cause they smell that way, it don’t mean they’re gonna act on it. Nothin’ was gonna happen. I wouldn’t let it. Shouldn’t have to tell ya that, you should know better, should know you’re my . . . I claimed . . .“ None of this was coming out how he wanted. It made her sound like a piece of property or something. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Marie turned to face him, eyes snapping. “I don’t need you. I can take care of myself, did it just fine for years before ya came along. I wasn’t afraid of that man. Just thought . . . damn Yankees. Where I come from, ‘You want a pop’ means ‘Shut up before I hit ya,’ and I th-th-thought he was gonna . . .“
“You were protectin’ the kid,” Logan realized. His anger disappeared as another feeling, warm and approving, washed over him. He didn’t care to examine it too closely.
She sighed heavily, and the fight seemed to go out of her as well. “Yeah, I was protectin’ her. R-reckon that’s why she was cryin’ and hidin’ behind her d-daddy like I was some kinda m-mmm-monster.”
He could smell her embarrassment, and figured it was as much over the stutter that crept into her voice as the scene at the gas station. He wondered if she’d always had that, or if it was some side effect of what she’d been through. It seemed to get worse when she was nervous or embarrassed. He decided he should just ignore it. Didn’t want to make her feel any worse. “It’s—it’s okay. All that matters is no one got hurt.“
“This time. But damn it, Logan, what if I—what if next time . . . if you wouldn’ta been there, what then? How could I live with myself, if I’d t-t-taken that l-lll-little girl’s d-daddy away from her?”
Logan didn’t like where this was going. “But I was there. And you didn’t. So quit with the what ifs.”
“I should be l-lllll-locked up. Chained up somewhere ‘fore I hurt somebody.”
He snarled at the very thought. “That ain’t gonna happen, ever, so put it outta your mind. Listen, I told ya, it ain’t always like this. Your instincts are in overdrive right now,” he hesitated, then admitted, “and so are mine. We just gotta be careful. You need to trust me. We’ll pick up some dinner and find a quiet motel. Take another night to clear your head before ya go back to that crowded school. You’ll feel better in the mornin’.” She didn’t look convinced. Logan tried a different tack. He softened his tone and reached over to rub her arm. “C’mon, I’ll take care of you.”
She tried to pull away from his touch. “Fine. About the m-motel. But I can take care of myself.”
They both knew that wasn’t true. He had the fleeting impulse to ask if she’d repressed the memory of growing up, if that’s why she was acting like a stubborn child. She squirmed again, and he let his hand fall away, wondering how the hell Chuck expected him to choose the ‘right path’ with this woman, when every path seemed to lead in circles.
------------------------------
“One room?” Marie asked with a sneer that could rival his best.
He bit back a growl. “Ya think I’m lettin’ ya outta my sight? No way in hell, darlin’.”
She huffed. “Well, if you’re thinkin’ you’re gonna get—“
He cut her off. “It’s a double. And I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna get a decent night’s sleep, so long as ya don’t go crawlin’ into bed with me again.” That ought to shut her up. He slid the keycard into the door and pushed it open, ushering her in.
--------------------------------------
Logan emerged from the shower in black sweatpants and a gray wifebeater, relieved that he could now dress comfortably around Marie without fear of her carelessly touching his skin. At least, he hoped he could.
She sat at the foot of the bed in modest green silk pajamas, thin black socks and gloves. She sat cross-legged, eyes closed, hands resting palm up in the lotus position. He suddenly had a dozen questions he wanted to ask. He realized how little he knew about her. Did she meditate often? How long had she studied martial arts? Did she feel Rogue in her mind the way he felt Wolverine in his? How long had she been an X-man? Moreover, how old was she?
Age wasn’t something he liked to think about, and the moment the thought rose in relation to her, he felt queasy. He pushed the questions away.
Marie’s eyes had opened at some point, he realized. He wondered how long she had been watching him. Her gaze traveled appreciatively up his body, and she cleared her throat when she met his eyes. “Y’alright?”
“Fine,” he said evenly. “You alright? With me wearin’ this, that is? I can cover up more if—“
“Nah,” she insisted with deliberate casualness. “Make yourself comfy, sugar. No reason for the both of us to dress like mummies—damn you, Erik, can it! I don’t wanna hear another—ugh, I’ll be back in a minute, Logan. Sorry.” She resumed her meditative posture and closed her eyes.
Logan blinked. “What the hell? Marie?”
Her eyes remained closed, and her mouth curved into a sarcastic smile that didn’t suit her at all. “She’s a little busy right now. Erik’s upset that I’ve commandeered the library. I’d share, if the goddamn pervert would stop staring at my—well, you know.”
“Carol?” Logan asked, hoping his unease didn’t come through in his tone. What the hell was going on? Marie said Carol wasn’t dangerous anymore, but . . . was this normal? Was she okay?
“That’s nice. I don’t think you ever called me anything other than Danvers. But hey, no need for formalities anymore, right? I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to say hello. Didn’t seem right to just take over the body, and Marie and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment . . . Anyway, it’s good to see you again, Logan. I’d say you’ve put on, oh, a hundred pounds or so since we last met. But you carry it well. The growling’s a bit odd.” She let out a bark of laughter. “Who am I to talk, eh? I became an alien hybrid, acquired superpowers, and am now imprisoned inside the mind of the girl who murdered me. Well, the girl who was used to murder me. I’m laying the blame square on the shoulders of that blue bitch. Turning a kid into a weapon, it’s sick, really. At least I’m pretty much sane again. I think.” She shrugged.
Logan felt his stomach drop. What did Carol Danvers know about him? Was this some trick? “Where’s Marie?”
“Relax. She’s putting Magneto in time out. She always locks him up when he misbehaves. He actually tried to grope me in the hallway once. I mean, can you imagine? Marie and Rogue both put a stop to that. Thank God.” Her tone turned sad suddenly. “Oh, Logan. You’ll probably laugh when I tell you this. The first time we saw you, there was a part of me that thought you were here to help me. That this was some kind of undercover op, that you could rescue me from this place just like you did from that KGB prison. Lubyanka, remember? But you weren’t sent by S.H.I.E.L.D. this time, were you? This amnesia thing, it’s for real. And those claws. God, what did they do to you?”
Logan’s hands were trembling. Don’t trust her. She’s messin’ with you. Don’t believe a word she says. “I—I wanna talk to Marie.”
“I can help you,” Marie's voice said in those strange tones, almost gentle. Imploring. “I know you weren’t always proud of the work we did, especially under SD Stryker, but I always thought you were a good man, Logan. I know how it feels to have someone mess with your mind, to not trust your own thoughts and feelings. Believe me, I know. I can give you back your past.”
“Bring. Marie. Back.” Stryker? He knew that name. How did he know that name? Why couldn’t he stop shaking?
“I won’t ask much in return. Just tell Marie to read some books, keep the library stocked for me. That’s all I’m asking. She’s got her share of problems, but I can think of a lot worse minds to be trapped in. And you know, maybe it’s wrong for me to say, but she really does love you. She’s just . . . scared. Scared of getting hurt, and of hurting you. Listen, you don’t have to decide now. Just think about it. Marie’s coming back now . . . Oh, and Logan?”
“Yeah?” he asked numbly.
“I’d prefer some quality literary journals. But anything’s better than those trashy beach reads she keeps on her nightstand. I’m an editor, for God’s sake. Burn them. Please.”
----------------------
Marie opened her eyes to find Logan staring at her very oddly. She felt a blush come to her cheeks. "Sorry. Sometimes I have to . . . do that. Y'know, go away for a while, to sort out somethin' in my head." Was he shaking? "Logan? A-are you alright?"
He raked a hand through his hair. "Fine. I'm fine. You?"
She covered a yawn. "Yeah. Um, sorry if I scared ya." She yawned again and crawled up the bed. "Boy, am I beat. I guess superhuman endurance doesn't cover mental marathons." The attempt at humor fell flat, even to her own ears. To Marie's surprise, Logan came up beside her bed and helped her pull up the covers. "I've never been tucked in before," she said with an amused smile. She couldn't help but feel warmth at the gesture.
He looked down at her with an unreadable gaze. The warmth Marie had felt was replaced by an intensity she didn't quite know how to handle. She could barely hold still when he reached out to smooth a hand over her hair. "I won't hurt you, Marie," he said solemnly.
She swallowed. "O-okay. Uh, I believe you."
He shook his head. "No, I don't think you do. Not yet. But you will." Marie stiffened when he reached beneath her collar, but he just pulled the chain from under her shirt. His eyes never left hers as he brought the metal tags to his lips and kissed them before letting them drop. "Night, baby." He pulled away and the lamp went off with a click.
"G-goodnight." Marie closed her eyes in the darkness, wondering what had brought about this sudden shift in mood. One minute, Logan was literally growling at her, and the next he was being achingly sweet.
And the really bizarre thing was, she couldn't figure out which of those worried her more.