Marie kept her eyes trained on the highway. The mid-morning sky was a sunless gray, the roads salted and lined with dirty, slushy snow. Heavy traffic on the week of Thanksgiving was no surprise. More surprising was how calmly Logan coped with it. He settled them in the far left lane and went with the flow, seemingly content to take his time and, as Easton Corbin urged from the radio speakers, “Roll with it.”
Logan chewed absently on a cigar, one hand on the wheel and the other continuing its precarious progress towards her thigh—five minutes had passed since she first noticed his fingers inching across the console, and they were still barely brushing her jeans. Finally, he fisted his hand for a moment, took a deep breath, and went all out, settling his heavy palm high on her leg. Marie gasped. He slid his hand down towards her knee and began rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.
Marie forced out the breath she had been holding. She wasn’t sure what to make of Logan’s behavior. She was even more baffled by her own responses to him. People didn’t just touch her. Not like that, not ever. But Logan . . . in the cabin, in the gas station, last night in bed, and now . . . it was all becoming a bit too intense, yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She peered over to find Logan looking even more relaxed, eyes focused on the cars in front of them.
“So, ya sure ‘bout this, darlin’?” he asked casually. “We can wait another day.”
They were close. They’d be exiting 121 in several miles, and once they merged onto 116, there wouldn’t be any more motels on the way to the mansion. Marie was growing jittery and anxious, and she figured Logan could sense it. It didn’t help that neither of them had spoken a word about last night, though perhaps for different reasons. Logan seemed utterly unconcerned, whereas Marie couldn’t even look at him without feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. “I’m sure. I’m ready,” she asserted, voice as flat as she could make it.
Logan shot her a quizzical look. “You’re upset.”
She shrugged.
He gave her leg a squeeze. “This okay?”
Marie turned away from him. “It feels too . . . too much.”
He took his hand back, muttering a curse. “Sorry. Next time tell me, Marie. Don’t be scared to tell me.”
Marie had only wanted him to stop moving his thumb, not to pull away completely. But she couldn’t bring herself to explain that. She hated that she missed the warmth of his hand. Hated him for wanting to touch her, hated herself for wanting his touch, hated whatever higher power had the cruel sense of humor to give her such a curse of a mutation—she didn’t even know where to direct her anger. So it settled along the edges of her mind like mounds of dirty snow piled on the roadside, its searing purity sullied to a general grumpy discontent.
“Marie?”
“What?” she groused, pulling her legs up in the seat and hugging her knees as she kept her face turned towards the passenger window.
“You don’t hafta tell me. But I gotta ask somethin’.” He cleared his throat. “I been thinkin’, and . . . did somebody . . . touch you . . . in a way that—“
“No!” she said angrily. “Not that it would be any of your business. Why does everyone think that?”
He turned defensive. “Hey, I ain’t everyone. I didn’t even know they thought that. I just figured, what with how your power works, and ya can’t—or, or won’t—control it, and you’re real sensitive about certain stuff, like me touchin’ ya just now, and that guy at the station—“
“I told ya, that was about the girl, not me.”
Logan sighed in frustration. “Fine. Fine. But ya get why I mighta thought—”
She cut him off again. “That ain’t how my power manifested, that ain’t why I don’t like to be touched, that ain’t why I’m crazy . . . . Let’s see, are there any other reasons everyone seems to th-think I’m some pathetic a-abuse case? I ain’t a victim, so quit treatin’ me like one. And what the hell do ya mean ‘won’t’? Like I’m walkin’ around with deadly skin on purpose? I can’t turn it off, okay? I can’t. I just can’t.”
“But have you tried?”
Marie whipped around just in time to see him wince at his own words. “Fuck you, Logan. I knew it would be like this. I knew you could never accept—that’s why I said we couldn’t—that’s why—“
Logan shook his head, gripping the wheel with both hands now. “Shit. No, Marie, listen. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just wonderin’ if you’ve ever tried. That’s it. I’m not pressurin’ you or nothin’. I’m here, okay? I don’t care if you never learn how to touch, I’m here.”
Now she was genuinely confused. “Why?”
His expression softened. “Oh, baby. Why? Look, I know I maybe said the wrong things when you were talkin’ about how I’d leave you or resent you or whatever, but I just need ya to know that ain’t true. I won’t do those things. I shoulda told you that before. But you put those ideas in my head, and I started worryin’ maybe they were true—but after last night, I—I know they’re not. You gotta know that too. Don’cha feel it? How right this is, you and me? I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. So—so just trust that. Trust me.”
Marie felt her anger turn heavy and leaden, like a weight dragging her down, slumping her shoulders and dousing the fire in her voice. “I’ve tried,” she said softly, “to control it. Of course I’ve tried. But it’s impossible. I’m untouchable. I'm just not fit to be with other people. Not with anyone. I—I wish I could be what ya want, Logan. I wish I could be that for ya.” She felt herself tearing up and stamped down the impulse angrily.
He smoothed a hand over her hair and took a moment to gather his words. “You are. You are what I want. Just like this. I want as much of ya as I can get, and it’ll never be too little, just like it’ll never be enough. Touchin’, that ain’t—that ain’t all that matters to me. I’m a dick if I made ya feel unwanted. That’s on me, baby. That ain’t on you. We sure ain’t perfect, but you’re a damn sight closer to it than I’ll ever be, skin or no.”
He sounded so blunt, as if he were stating some obvious fact. Marie couldn’t help a small laugh at that.
“There. Ya know that’s true, don’cha? But hey, don’t run off lookin’ for some fella that’s more worthy of ya. We got a bond between us, Marie. Nothin’ can break it. Nothin’.”
Marie felt her nerves heighten even more. She’d never had a conversation like this before, never been in a relationship close enough to really warrant one. “Is this—this thing between us . . . is it just instinct, Logan?”
“I dunno,” he answered honestly. “I think it’s more. I think it could be more.” He cleared his throat again. “Why don’t we find out?”
Marie blushed. “If you get to know me too well, you won’t like me anymore.”
Logan let out a bark of laughter. “Darlin’, I’ve seen you throw a full-out temper tantrum ‘cause I gave you milk instead of orange juice. I’ve remade my bed five times in one day ‘cause you kept messin’ it up. I’ve listened to radio static for an hour straight ‘cause you wouldn’t let me change the station. You really think you’re gonna scare me off now?”
“Sorry,” Marie mumbled. “I was a real pain in the ass, wasn’t I?”
“Only that time ya broke my spine. And I know that was an accident.”
“Logan . . .”
“Don’t ‘Logan’ me.”
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“You were gonna say another reason why this is a bad idea. And I don’t wanna hear it. You’re mine. I know that. And I don’t want ya tryin’ to fill my head with doubts. So hush.”
Marie huffed. “That a command?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You wouldn’t be talkin’ if it was.”
That was true, and she knew it. “That kinda . . . it kinda bothers me. How there’s this part of me that just . . . responds . . . to you.”
“That’s just the way it is, for me too. Maybe you should stop fightin’ that part of you. I won’t hurt you,” Logan repeated.
“Promise?” The word slipped out before she could rein it in.
His lips twitched up in a crooked smile. “If that's what you gotta hear to believe it, then yeah, baby. I promise.”
----------------------------
Logan punched in his gate code and watched impassively as the heavy bars slid aside to reveal the Xavier Institute. Aside from the neatly shoveled drive, a thin, perfect layer of snow coated every level surface on the campus. The golden light peeking from various windows managed to look warm despite the dreary sky. Even in a town as wealthy as North Salem, the mansion was impressive. Impressive and a bit intimidating—Logan heard Marie’s pulse quicken, her anxiety jacking up a few notches as they drove around to the side garage.
Her anxiety continued to rise as they approached, a dizzying array of sounds and smells filtering into their awareness, and Logan’s first instinct was to turn the Jeep around and go back the way they came. He certainly had no desire to share Marie with anyone else, and despite her protests to the contrary, she obviously had some reservations about her homecoming as well.
But then he thought about choices, and how much better he had been feeling since he started trying to make the ‘right’ ones. It wouldn’t be right to deny Marie’s wishes—even if it would be incredibly easy to make her submit to his instead. Logan also knew that she needed Chuck’s and Jeanie’s help. And there was no denying that he wanted Marie to find whatever was in those repressed memories. The sooner he knew what had happened in that clearing, the sooner he could have his revenge. His knuckles itched just thinking about it.
So he pulled into the thankfully empty garage and followed his second instinct: reassure her. Let her know that he was in control of the situation, that there was nothing to be afraid of. He killed the engine and left the keys in the ignition. Marie started to open her door, but he cut her off. “Wait.” Her hand stilled, so he continued, “I wanna talk to you first.”
“You talk too damn much, sugar,” she drawled obnoxiously.
Logan bit back a growl. It was high time he cleared up a few things with her. His voice was deadly calm. “Don’t push me, Marie. I been nothin’ but nice to you, but I don’t hafta let you speak to me like that.”
She ducked her head a little, but her voice came out defiant. “We're officially home, Logan. No more of this alpha male stuff. Clean slate, remember?”
He leaned in close. “I’m bein’ more than fair. But I can’t change who I am, and neither can you. You think I won’t make a scene in front of everyone if you keep challengin’ me like that? Just try me, baby.” He growled and bore his teeth to make sure his message was clear. “You know better.”
He could see from the look in her eyes that she did indeed know better. She was testing him, looking for some affirmation of her place in the hierarchy, some stability when everything around her was changing. It was a simple, primal need, one that he understood well. And he had no problem reassuring her, reminding her exactly where she belonged: right beneath him. No more ‘alpha male’ stuff? She might as well have asked a fish to stop swimming.
He got out, gave the garage an easy once-over, and came around to open her door. “This is prob’ly gonna overwhelm your senses a bit. Stick close to me.” He rested his hand at the small of her back.
“Logan . . . I don’t want anyone to think—”
He felt his anger flare. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? Embarrassed of me?”
To his surprise, she turned into him and placed her hand over his heart. She spoke into his chest. “No. No. I am embarrassed, but not of you. I just don’t want anyone to think I can’t be on my own anymore. If they don’t think I can hack it, they’ll kick me off the team, Logan. At best they’ll demote me, if they haven’t already. They think I’m damaged, I just know they do. The first impression I make, whatever Scott sees first thing when I walk through that door, it’s gonna be a big deal. It’s gonna mean a lot. I gotta stand on my own two feet. Okay?”
Logan understood her intense anxiety now. This wasn’t just about seeing everyone again. It was about proving herself to them. He tucked her under his chin and rubbed her back. “Hey. You got nothin’ to prove to these geeks. You’re more than you were before, not less. As for One-Eye, well, he’d have to be an idiot to think you’re ‘damaged.’ Not that he ain’t an idiot. But even if he is thinkin’ it, he’d have to be fuckin’ suicidal to say it out loud. ‘Specially in fronta me.”
He felt her shoulders shake with a silent laugh. “I know that shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does.”
He gave her one last squeeze and stepped away. He could do this. Give her some space. Let her be her own person. He hoped he could handle it. “C’mon, Lieutenant Rogue. I know how territorial you are. Time to go reclaim your rightful spot on the X-Team.”
“Just promise me you won’t growl at our Captain, Agent Wolverine.”
He shrugged. “I won’t if you don’t.”
------------------------------
Scott was alerted by the Professor as soon as Wolverine’s code was entered at the gate. He set aside the grading he had been trying to catch up, stood, and smoothed the wrinkles from his slacks and button-down. He left his office and made his way to towards the other side of the mansion, wanting to be the first to greet them.
Scott hadn’t been able to wheedle too many details from the Professor, but he knew Rogue was fragile right now. Most of the students were away for the holiday, and he had convinced Storm and Jean to cart the rest of them off to the mall for a few hours. After seeing Rogue’s state at the cabin, Scott didn’t want to overwhelm her or set her back in her recovery or anything. The truth was, he was a bit nervous to see her again. The Professor said she had finally “stabilized” after her absorption, but that it would “no doubt have lasting effects on her psyche.”
Scott reached the door to the garage just in time to hear Rogue and Logan arguing over who would carry her suitcase. The sound of her voice, so familiar, so normal, made him break into a grin. He opened the door just in time to see them both turn, ears perked up, wearing nearly identical expressions of surprise. He chuckled. “Hello. Am I interrupting something?”
Rogue blushed, but straightened to face him. She wore jeans and a fitted maroon sweater with matching gloves and a scarf draped loosely around her neck. Typical Rogue. His grin widened. She was already night-and-day different from how she had been at the cabin. “Hello, Scott.”
Logan took her distraction as an opportunity to shoulder his bag and grab her suitcase. It wasn’t lost on Scott that he went to a little extra trouble to keep his right arm free. He wondered briefly whether the Wolverine was preparing himself to restrain Rogue or to protect her. Perhaps both.
Ignoring his hesitancy, Scott approached them. He and Logan exchanged their typical I-really-don’t-like-you-but-am-willing-to-tolerate-you nod.
Rogue extended her usual palm-down hand, the only thing besides her accent that really belied her Southern upbringing, and he clasped it briefly, looking into her eyes.
To Scott’s surprise, she averted her gaze. Hm. That was new. He scolded himself that he was just overanalyzing things. “It’s good to have you back. Uh, both of you. I hope traffic wasn’t too bad.” That sounded pretty awkward even to his own ears. Darn. He just didn’t really know what to say to her now, and he had never known what to say to Wolverine.
Rogue raked a silk-gloved hand through her hair. “Uh, it was pretty heavy, yeah. But we made it alright."
It was then that Scott noticed something silver glinting out from under her scarf. Odd. She usually favored earrings, not necklaces. He shook his head. Now he was definitely overanalyzing things.
Rogue was speaking again. “. . . talk to Charles later this afternoon. I’d like to be cleared for fieldwork as soon as possible.”
Scott blinked. That was definitely the Rogue he knew. All business. “Rogue—that’s not . . . I . . . no. I’m sorry, but no. The Professor, Jean, and I have discussed it at length. We feel it would be best for you to take a leave of absence from the team, get settled in—“
An almost imperceptible tremor went through her, and for a moment he thought she was going to crumble. But then she got that look she sometimes had. Distant, was the only way he could describe it. She set her shoulders and squared her jaw. Scott braced himself for an argument. “This work is my life, Scott. I’ve been an asset to the team, and I deserve a chance to prove that I still am. Gimme a chance. Run me through some sims. I have control of Carol’s powers now. And even without’em, I’m still the best close-range fighter you got. You know that.”
Scott wasn't sure how to say this without hurting her feelings, so he just came out with it. “Actually, we were hoping Wolverine and Shadowcat could fill those shoes. For a while, I mean, just for a while. We’ve promoted Kitty from the junior team, and she’s really stepped up to the plate. Not that she could replace you. That’s not it at all. We do need you, Rogue. There’s a lot of important work that doesn’t involve direct combat. We need someone reliable to help with recruitment and escorts. There are a number of new students we’re hoping to bring in for the Spring semester, and—”
“That’s junior team stuff, Scott. That’s a waste of my abilities. Let me help. I want to help.” Her voice was growing strained, and Logan was giving her a very intense look, but making no move to touch her.
Scott couldn’t in good conscience send her out on a dangerous mission. He didn’t know if he ever could again. He’d rather have an inferior fighter on his team than be worried about Rogue’s mental health, about what the next absorption might do to her. But he couldn’t make it sound hopeless. It would break her heart. “This is just . . . probation, Rogue. You haven’t been stripped of your title. Nothing’s set in stone, okay? We’ll reassess things in a couple of months.”
“I don’t give a f—I don’t care about being Lieutenant, Scott. I care about the work. I care about makin’ a difference. How many hate crimes are gonna happen in a couple of months? How many riots are gonna get outta hand? How many mutants are gonna be abused and trafficked and exploited while I’m ‘takin’ time to get settled’?”
All Business Rogue had left the building, and Mutant Rights Activist Rogue had stepped in to fill her place. Scott was reminded of why it had taken the Professor six months to convince her to take a vacation. He had to admit, she was not easily dismissed when she got like this, eyes blazing, voice sharp, hands planted at her hips. Even Logan seemed impressed.
Scott felt like a jerk. He hated doing this to her, hated taking her away from the job she loved. But he hated even more what he had seen in that cabin, what she could be reduced to when her own power was used against her. He wanted to make sure she was fully recovered before he let her risk her own sanity to fight for the cause. “You’re on recruitment for the next two months. And I’m sure the students will be pleased to have you back as their teacher, if you’re up to it. I’m sorry, Rogue, but that’s final.”
“Grrrr . . .” She kicked her Jeep and sent it skidding a good two meters across the garage floor. Wolverine placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. She stilled under his touch.
He turned to Scott. “You better go.”
Scott left. If Rogue hated him for keeping her safe, so be it. She’d get over it eventually. He knew he had made the right decision.