6’2” with a runner’s body, broad shoulders, and the cheekbones of a Calvin Klein model, Scott was an impressive figure in a custom-tailored charcoal suit, even with his eyes hidden behind ruby quartz shades.
And he knew it.
Scott knew how to lead, how to command respect when he walked into a room. More importantly, he knew how to earn that respect and keep it long after first impressions faded.
Perhaps that was what unsettled him so much when he thought of Rogue and Wolverine. Rogue was a member of his team. She entrusted her life to him every time they fired up that jet.
Yet now, when he felt she needed him most, she turned from him. He had done nothing to betray her trust, and Wolverine had done nothing to earn it. He manhandled her, growled at her for godsakes, and she bowed down to him like he was Jesus H. Christ incarnate.
That didn’t sit well with Scott. Not at all.
After talking things over with Jean, he came to his decision. He would do what he felt was right. With clear conscience, he informed the Professor that he respectfully refused to obey his orders. He needed to see Rogue, needed to go out to the cabin and see for himself how things stood.
Xavier had simply consented, neither approval nor disappointment apparent in his ever-stoic features.
So Scott found himself at the front office of the resort. “Excuse me, Miss,” he said to the receptionist. He was worried but tried to keep his tone even. “I’m here to visit Ms. D’Ancanto. I tried her cabin, but it appears to be empty. Have you seen her?”
The girl eyed him suspiciously. “I’m required to respect the privacy of our guests, Mr.—”
He smirked. “Summers. Scott Summers.” He extended a hand, expertly widening the smirk into a charming smile.
The girl practically melted as he folded her hand in his. “Oh, um, T-Tiffani. With an ‘i’.”
He widened the smile even further, knowing it was bordering on shit-eating at this point, but he needed information. “Listen, I’m a colleague of R—Ms. D’Ancanto’s. We both work for Professor Charles Xavier. Surely you’ve seen him. He’s visited many times before.”
Tiffani nodded. “Oh. Right. You’re both teachers, then,” she said with a wink.
Scott masked his confusion. Was that her idea of flirting? “Er, yes, that’s right. I teach mathematics.”
Tiffani giggled. She leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s okay. I know you’re not really a teacher, G-man. You sure don’t look like one. Anyway, don’t worry—I’ve been keeping an eye on everything. Ms. D’Ancanto’s doing just fine. She and the other agent went for a hike, but I’m sure they’ll be returning soon.”
G-man? Did she mean X-man? What exactly had Xavier told this girl? “Uhh . . . right. Can you just let me into the cabin, then? I’ll wait for them.”
The girl bit her lip. “Well,” she said reluctantly, “I’m really not supposed to . . .”
He had her. She was giving him that look. The look that always made Jean glare daggers and smooth his tie and ruffle his hair in a way that sent a clear message to every woman in the vicinity: Mine. Back off.
But Jean wasn’t here right now. So he let that look linger for a moment, then moved in for the kill. “Please, Tiffani, I’d really appreciate your help.”
---------------------------------
Wolverine ignored the pain of his vertebrae realigning themselves as he led Rogue down the path. He spoke about what they might do for the rest of the day, pulling responses from her when he could. A nod, a smile, a questioning look. He varied the pressure of his hand on hers, varied the pace of their walk, kept her focused on the world outside so she wouldn’t retreat back into herself.
He recognized her violent outburst—a flashback. He’d had enough of them to know. And he couldn’t risk her having another one until he was fully healed; he might not be able to restrain her. Gritting his teeth, he kept the pain off his face. He didn’t want her to know she had hurt him.
He didn’t want her to know she could hurt him.
“Almost to the cabin. When we get in there, you can take a hot bath.” She made a little contented sound at that, so he continued, “Light up them candles, turn on the radio. We’ll order room service for lunch. And dinner.” He shrugged. “It’s Chuck’s money, so I don’t give a fuck, do you?”
She shook her head, grinning.
“That’s right, baby. ‘Cause he ain’t rich like a nice old man that’s made good investments. He’s rich like small countries are rich. You prob’ly don’t know the half of it.”
She tugged his sleeve, and he recognized her ‘tell-me-more’ look.
He slowed to a leisurely pace, letting her pull his arm around her waist. She leaned into him as they walked. He used his finger to draw little circles on her belly, and spoke in his lowest gravelly tone because he knew it would make her heart beat faster. “Man’s got a hand in every cookie jar you can think of. Checked up on’im a little before I joined—found out he’s got his own private vault at Credit Suisse. Keeps all his dealings above-board, too, ‘cept a few top-secret contracts. And the arms dealers, got a couple of those in his pocket. Dunno why he stays in that mansion, when he’s got a perfectly good castle in Scotland.”
That drew a laugh from her.
“Mmm,” he hummed, dropping a kiss on top of her head. He felt something strange and unsettling wash over him. It was the pure masculine pride of pleasing her, making her heart beat fast, making her laugh. The pride . . . and the overpowering desire to keep making her happy. To make her want him. He tried to shove the feeling away.
He was the goddamn Wolverine. He didn’t prattle on like some human and drop gentle kisses into his mate’s hair. He was an animal. All he really wanted to do was pin her up against that tree and rip off her clothes. If Logan weren’t holding him back—that was the only reason he hadn’t claimed her yet. He didn’t care how she felt about it. He shook his head and took his arm off her waist. “C’mon,” he groused, hurrying off towards the cabin. He was the alpha, she was his, and that was that.
----------------------------
Foul chemical odors assaulted Rogue’s senses before she even reached the porch. She coughed, dragging her teeth over her tongue in a vain effort to get rid of the ammonia taste.
The alpha turned at the door. “I know, it’s godawful. But ya gotta get used to it eventually. Come inside.”
She buried her nose in the crook of her elbow and stepped in. Her eyes began to water, and she couldn’t help the angry growl rising in her throat. This was her den, her home, and someone had come in and erased every trace of her, marked over her claim with these noxious cleaners.
She felt violated.
She stomped to her room, only to see the red-eyed man emerging from her doorway. Her eyes widened in shock, growl climbing in volume. Her room. Hers. How dare he go into—she pulled back to swing at him, but the alpha caught her arm.
Red-Eye put his hands up, palms facing her. “I’m not here to make trouble,” he said.
Rogue was mad and scared, and everything smelled wrong. She struggled in the alpha’s grip, hissing and snarling.
He tightened his hold, wrapping his arms around her. “You got a death wish? She’ll tear you apart, pretty boy. And I’ll let her if ya don’t start talkin’.”
Red-Eye stepped into the hallway, inching around them. “That’s why I came, Wolverine. I just wanted to talk. We can take this outside.”
“Anytime, bub. Anytime.”
He sighed. “I meant we can go talk outside.” He then addressed Rogue in a soft voice. “Okay? Logan and I will go outside, and I’ll just leave you alone. See? I’m not here to hurt you, Rogue.”
That soft tone combined with his dominant stance only confused her, and she snarled again, trying to lunge at him. She felt the alpha’s chest rumble against her back. “Hey!” he grunted. “Relax.”
She stopped writhing in his grip, but still kept her eyes trained on Red-Eye. She didn’t know why he had been in her bedroom, but she didn’t like it. Not one little bit.
“Get out, Cyke. Lemme get her settled, then we’ll talk.” The alpha walked her back into the room and kicked the door shut. He released her, and she stamped her foot on the ground, snarling in frustration.
“Hey now. You’re okay. Just let it out,” he said calmly. He put a hand on his back and groaned, straightening it with a series of pops.
Rogue pulled at her hair, looking around her room. The bed smelled like bleach, poorly covered up with something flowery and fake. She traced Red-Eye’s scent to the bathroom, finding that the sink was wet, the soap bar dripping in its tray. She cast distraught eyes at the alpha and pointed, jabbing her finger at the hand towel that smelled like that filthy intruder.
He just raised an eyebrow at her tantrum. “I see it. But you know he didn’t mean to invade your territory. Now stop fussing.”
Rogue just stamped her foot again. The nerve! It was almost enough to make her cuss and scream.
Almost. But not quite. She bit back her anger and took a few deep breaths.
“You got a hold of yourself yet?”
She ripped the towel off the rack and threw it in the trash. Then she looked up at him, nodding tightly.
He seemed to be fighting a smile. “Good. Light up your candles and take your bath, darlin’. He ain’t gonna ruin our plans. Back in a few.” He stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. He spoke through the wood. “You leave this door shut. If he sees you naked, Jeanie’ll know about it, and then he won’t be One-Eye anymore. He’ll be No-Eye.”
Rogue couldn’t help smiling at that. She snagged the matchbox from its spot on the windowsill and set about reclaiming her territory.
------------------------------
Logan grabbed a cigar from his room before heading outside. He definitely needed to get the ammonia smell out of his sinuses. Disgusting. And the fact that he hadn’t sensed Cyclops underneath all those chemicals was a bad sign. His body wasn’t fully healed yet, and if it had been anyone else waiting for them inside the cabin . . . . He just needed to be more careful.
With every step he took towards the door—away from Rogue—Logan felt his feral side retreating and his human side coming out. It was bizarre. He was beginning to feel like Jekyll and Hyde. Maybe Logan and Wolverine really were two different people.
He clamped the cigar in his teeth and strode out on the porch as casually as he could. He’d listen to what Cyclops had to say before sending the idiot on his merry way. No need to make a fight out of it; not with Rogue already upset. Besides, for all the shit he gave Cyclops, he really didn’t hate the guy. Much.
Cyclops stood out by the lake. Logan lit up and sauntered out to join him. “How’d ya get into our cabin?”
Sunglasses flashed as the younger man turned. “Tiffani. From the front desk.”
Logan hmphed. “The hell was she thinkin’? Lettin’ somebody into our rooms, Jesus. Chuck said she had better sense than that.”
Cyclops shrugged. “She didn’t want to, but I kinda have a way with women.”
Logan couldn’t tell if that was sarcastic or not. “The woman in the cabin begs to differ with ya there, bub.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand it. I had hoped –well, I just thought she might be better after a couple of weeks. The Professor said she was improving. Sure doesn’t look like it to me.”
Logan growled. “She is doin’ better. But what the hell do you expect when ya barge in here unannounced like that? Maybe ya forgot the last time she saw you, you were tryin’ to drag her out of her home.”
“This isn’t her home.” His voice was calm, but held an edge. “She belongs at the mansion, with us. The Professor trusts you, Logan, and that means something to me. But I’ll be honest. I hate the idea of you being out here with her, alone. It’s completely inappropriate. Surely you see that.”
“I see it. I see a lot. I’m the one that found her out in those woods, tied up and bein’ mauled by fuckin’ wolves, Cyke. I see it in my nightmares. Just like she sees it in hers. So I don’t really care about what you think is appropriate. I care about Rogue.”
“Do you? You don’t even know her.”
That stung. He lashed back, “You don’t know her. You want her to be what she was. Well I got news for ya: she can’t. And if ya try and force her, you’ll just end up hurtin’ her more. She’s different now. Get used to it.”
“She was different after she absorbed Magneto. She was different after she absorbed Carol. This isn’t different, Wolverine. She’s—god, she’s practically feral,” he bit out the word like it was a curse.
Logan growled, flashing his claws. “You wanna watch who you’re talkin’ to, boy.”
Cyclops kicked a stone into the lake, taking a ragged breath. “Look, I told you, I didn’t come here for a fight. I just wanted to make sure Rogue was okay. I believe you can understand her, better than we can right now. Heck, I believe you may even truly want to help her. I just think—this isn’t natural for her. She wasn’t born this way, like, er, like you. And you’re just enabling her, making her be something she’s not. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Logan held up a fist, metal claws gleaming in the sun. His voice was incredulous. “You think I was born with these, you stupid fuck?”
Cyclops scratched his head. “I don’t—you mean they’re not part of your mutation?”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Cyke. I heal, and I also happen to have metal claws, heightened senses, and animal instincts. What the hell kind of mutation is that?”
“I don’t know; I’m packing dynamite behind my eyelids. Rogue absorbs people through her skin. Forgive me for not finding metal claws strange.”
“Whatever. Point is, the X-gene only caused the healing. The rest didn’t come ‘til after I was experimented on.”
“You—you weren’t born feral?”
“Don’t remember. But Doc McCoy says no. He ran some tests, thinks they altered my DNA. Spliced me with God knows who or what. Wouldn’t surprise me. Every bone in my body’s got metal grafted on, and I kinda remember the day they flayed me open and stuck these claws in. Don’t even know what else they might have done.”
“W-What were they trying to turn you—I mean, what did they hope to achieve?”
“Weapon X. A killer, vicious and too stupid to do anything but rip apart whatever they set me loose on. That’s what they wanted.” That’s what I was.
Cyclops kicked another stone. “I never knew. You could have told me.”
Logan felt his lip curl in disgust. “I work with you ‘cause Chuck pays me to. We ain’t friends, One-Eye.”
“Whatever, Furface. I still don’t know what the Professor and her see in you.”
“I don’t know what she sees in me. But Xavier knows I’m a decent bodyguard, and the only one on the team who can take a beating from her if she gets violent. She doesn’t wanna go back to that mansion, and you’re crazy if you think she should be around the little brats while she’s like this. She woulda ripped you apart in there.”
“I know,” Cyclops muttered, and the pain in his voice was apparent. He changed the subject. “Did you ever wonder how she got those white streaks in her hair?”
Logan had wondered that, several times, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “Not really. Why, you gonna tell me?”
He turned, presumably staring out across the lake. His voice was low. “The first time I saw Rogue was in the Statue of Liberty. Magneto had her strapped into this machine that ran off his power. It was supposed to turn normals into mutants. Problem was, he couldn’t give the machine the juice it needed without killing himself. So he transferred his power to Rogue.”
“He touched her.”
Scott scowled. “Yeah. Held on until her hair started turning white. And the whole time, she was just screaming. This gut-wrenching, awful scream. I’ll never forget that sound. Did you know Erik Lensherr was a Holocaust survivor?”
Logan thought of his Rogue, wondered what kind of horrors she had rolling around in her head. He wondered if she had protected Marie from that attack, too. “So, you rescued her. That was how she came to join the X-men.”
Cyclops shook his head. “We rescued her, yes. The Professor managed to salvage her sanity. But as soon as she was able, she went right back to Lensherr.”
“What? Why?”
“How much do you know about the Brotherhood of Mutants?”
He shrugged. “I know Sabertooth’s a member. That’s all I need to know to hate’em.”
“The Brotherhood is a cult. They mostly prey on young, vulnerable mutants. Runaways, like Rogue. She was fifteen when she was taken in by them. I don’t think the Professor ever forgave himself for not getting to her first. Anyway, we’ve raided their compounds before, but only a small few are ever willing to leave. They indoctrinate these kids, cut off all ties to the outside world, brainwash them with Lensherr’s mutant superiority rhetoric. We didn’t know it at the time, but Rogue had been a willing participant in Lensherr’s plans. Fifteen years old, and she was ready to sacrifice her life in that machine, Logan.
‘Xavier and Jean both tried reaching out to her, tried for years. But she wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t betray her ‘mother,’ she said. It wasn’t until they made her kill a woman, Carol Danvers, that she finally left. She showed up at our doorstep, nearly out of her mind. One second she begged for help, the next she just begged us to kill her.
‘But you saw her, Logan. You saw her when you first joined the X-men. You fought beside her, trained with her. She recovered from every horrible thing life threw at her. That’s why I know she can recover from this. And if you help her, I’ll be thankful. But you damn well better be in this for her. I came here today to tell you that, and to warn you: if I find out you’ve harmed a hair on her head, I swear to—”
“I’m in this for her,” Logan said, looking back at the cabin. “I’ll do everything I can to help her.” He’d made that promise many times now. He still wasn’t sure what it meant. He still didn’t know if he could keep it.
Cyclops gave a brief nod. “Alright then. I don’t want to go in there and upset her again. But I will be back soon. Count on that.” He turned and began walking away.
“Wait,” Logan said. Cyclops stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Any leads yet?”
“None yet. But I’d bet money the Brotherhood was behind this. They don’t take kindly to people trying to leave their ranks. We’re on it, Logan. You stay here and focus on what’s important.”
Logan barely heard a word after ‘Brotherhood.’ He closed his eyes in fury, listening to the sound of Cyke’s footsteps fading down the path.
“Sabertooth,” he whispered, claws straining against their synthetic tendons. If that mangy mutant turned out to be the one behind this, Logan wouldn’t just rip him to shreds. He’d do it a hundred times over. Make him beg for death, just like Rogue did after they made her absorb Carol Danvers. A sick craving roiled inside him, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to abandon Rogue in that cabin and run off to find—
The claws snapped back in, the pain of it like a bucket of ice thrown over him, jerking him out of his thoughts. He had promised to help Rogue. More importantly, he gave his word to her that they would spend the afternoon together. If he disappeared, she’d . . . she’d be lost without him.
The thought was terrifying. It almost made him want to run even faster and farther. He’d never had someone who depended on him. Someone who believed in him. He had agreed to stay with Rogue simply because the Wolverine lusted after her, and Logan wanted vengeance on whoever hurt her. When had it become something more? When had he become something more?
”You are what you do.”
Was it really that simple? Logan stared at the cabin for a long time. He thought of who Rogue used to be, before her mind was taken from her. He wondered who he used to be, before his was taken from him.
Maybe that was what Chuck meant by all his confusing Jedi proverb bullshit. Crossroads and helping each other find paths. Logan felt something shift inside him, and then it finally collapsed, that wall that had been slowly crumbling for so long. The one that kept him spouting promises he didn’t really understand, the one that kept him believing he was a monster and could never be anything more.
No more promises. He was committed. He was devoted. It didn’t need to be said; it simply was. And he would help Rogue not because he had promised anyone, but because it was the right thing to do. He hadn’t believed in right and wrong for the longest time, but it seemed plain as day now.
Right was Rogue. Whoever she was, whoever she had inside of her—a dead woman and a pack of wolves, a cult leader and a timid girl named Marie—he would be there for her. No matter what. He didn’t care if she never spoke again, if she could barely leave the cabin and threw temper tantrums when she didn’t get her way. He didn’t care if she had piss-poor taste in music and liked her eggs overdone. He was in love with her. And that was that.
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Chapter End Notes:
Whew. Think I finally got all the lovey-dovey Roganyness outta my system. Back to fast-paced action and a touch of smut next chapter--promise :).