The screen door swung back behind her, slapping the frame and bouncing off twice before finally catching closed. She didn’t have to look to know that the he would soon be following her. His hearing was impeccable and he could smell her out no matter where she was. In fact she’d barely crossed the length of the porch and reached the first step before she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision. His hair rustled with each loping step he made, causing the tags around his neck to jingle ever so slightly. She studied him carefully as he closed in the distance between them.
He hadn't changed much since their first encounter together. Her eyes catalogued his appearance as he neared. He was older but the extra years had not altered his appearance. Physically he was still as large and powerful as ever. His muscles flexed of their own accord when he walked, his hair still thick and wild, begging for her fingers to run across the top of his head and then playfully dance along his chest. It was only his eyes that betrayed his true age. The dark, almost black pupils, were heavy with a long life lived. It was his eyes that sucked her in. They always had, even from the very first day. They were hard, wary, and somewhat feral, but beneath it she saw a sort of kindness that sang out to her. A loneliness that was all too familiar. He was a little scared and a whole lot angry. A smarter person would have seen the way he pinned the other large man to the dingy wall and they would have ran, not walked, as far and as quickly away as possible. But there was something about his eyes. And maybe she just wasn’t all that smart. Because, despite his behavior, she didn’t feel scared or even uncertain. She’d taken one look into those weighed down eyes and something inside of her clicked. She felt safe. Safer than she had in longer than she cared to remember. So when he’d let the man go and rushed away, she acted on pure instinct and followed.
They’d been together ever since.
Her lips curled into an easy smile as he came closer. He had been hunting recently, she could tell. His hair stood up a little crazier than usual and his eyes had the kind of light in them that only a good chase could ignite. He wasn’t carrying any fallen creature with him, but that didn’t mean he had not been successful. It was common for him to leave the house early in the morning to stalk the woods nearby. He never came out with a trophy, but he often had traces of the kill left on his body if she looked closely enough. Today she could easily notice the light splash of blood on his neck that he’d missed while cleaning himself off. He was always so gentle with her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still have a wild side that needed exercising. His morning hunts were a great way for him let off a little of his pent up animal.
She rested her hand on the rails of the steps. “How was the hunt?”
He looked her at her but didn’t speak. She took no offence. He’d never been much of a talker.
When he finally reached her he stood so close that his chest brushed against her ever so slightly. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, could feel each rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Both of her hands left the railing and settled somewhere around his shoulders, her fingers massaging his flesh and muscles until she felt him slowly melt into a satiated puddle.
“After breakfast I need to run into town for a few errands. Are you up for a ride?” Her voice caught his attention and he tilted his head towards her. He didn’t say anything but his eyes clearly told her that yes, he was always up for a ride with his woman. She laughed in response.
“Come on you hairy old man,” she gestured to the screen door behind her. “I’m thinking scrabbled eggs and bacon. Does that sound good to you?” Her hands trailed from his shoulders down the length of his back, finishing their journey with a playful slap across his rear end. She turned away and headed back to the house. She didn’t look to see if he was following. She knew he would be.
Once inside they both headed straight to the kitchen. It was no where near as large or as extravagant as the mansion but what it lacked in luxury it more than made up for in comfort. The space was small but open, with light terracotta walls, long counters, and a large box window above the sink that overlooked peaceful bucolic grounds. From that window she could see the expanse of grass from the house out to the barn and front line of trees to the wooded forest. She could also see the driveway to the left, the only entrance onto the property. It was framed with various bushes and flowering trees that offered beauty as well as privacy.
It was when she was cracking open the first egg into the empty glass mixing bowl that she happened to look out the box window and see and old blue Ford truck rumble down the drive towards house. Her companion had his back turned but must have heard the engines because he quickly stood at full attention, his nose testing the air and his head cocked slightly as he strained to listen. She was still wiping off the egg residue from her hands when the Ford came to a stop on the gray gravel drive.
Neither of them recognized the truck. Her eyes locked on the driver’s side of the vehicle, the view of the person inside obstructed by the sun glaring off the windshield. They didn’t have many visitors so she was instantly surprised and suspicious of the interloper.
Her hands now dried off, though still somewhat sticky, she walked around the kitchen to the screen door that lead to the gravel driveway. The door was barely opened an inch when her friend barreled past her, a low grumbling growl bubbling up from his throat, his eyes narrowing sharply. He pushed past her but stopped short at the end of the porch, putting his body between her and the potential threat. His body was tense and primed for a fight and even though his eyes never left the old truck about twenty feet away, she knew that from the angle of his stance he was able to keep her in his sights as well.
The left door of the truck creaked open. A brown leather boot touched the ground, the sound of the crunching gravel loud enough to reach her ears from the doorway. A second boot joined the first. Another crunch of gravel. Then another, and another, as the vehicle’s occupant pulled himself into a standing position and moved just enough out of reach of the truck so that he could brush the door closed.
She studied the person before her. His dark hair was long enough that the ends curled around the collar of his shirt. His legs were long and his chest broad; the jeans were worn tight and smeared with a little dirt and a little grease, and his jacket, the leather one over the denim, was a timeless duster that looked as if it had seen better days. She watched as he raised one hand up to cup his brow, shielding the blinding sun from his eyes. His gaze fell first on her and then on the one standing between them. A calculating squint, then back to her. As his eyes bore into hers she felt her body tense up.
He arched a finely practiced eyebrow.
“Hey, darlin’.
She ignored the term of endearment but nodded her head once in response to his greeting. Suddenly her throat was tight and her tongue too thick for words.
“Think maybe you can call off Fluffy so we can talk?” He gestured to the large English Mastiff still positioned protectively in front of his master.
She didn’t say anything, just shrugged her shoulders in an uncommunicative, unconcerned manner.
He took a small step forward then stopped when the dog between them lowered his shoulders closer to the ground and growled even louder. Strings of thick drool were now hanging from his teeth and jowls. His jaws snapped in the air once, slinging a shower of gelatinous saliva over the steps of the porch.
“Nice dog,” he muttered to no one in particular.
She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “What do you want, Wolverine?”
Logan’s hand raked through his unruly hair. It was one of the view tells that betrayed his otherwise confident demeanor. He was uncertain. Nervous. And she knew that it wasn’t because of her dog.
“I just wanna talk, Marie.”
“So talk.”
“I was thinkin’we might could do this inside.”
“I—I don’t think so. I think if you want to talk you can say whatever it is you want to say right where you are. Over, uhm, there.”
He let out an exasperated sigh that sounded a lot like ‘Marie’. He raked his fingers through his hair again and then clenched both of his hands by his sides. “Marie, I’m—“
“If this is about what happened then just save it. I know, okay? I already know. You didn’t have to track me down to tell me again. You don’t have to do this. I get it. I do. I just—I just--.”She stopped and took a steadying breath, not having realized that she had stopped breathing as she talked. “I just can’t…”
Can’t what? she thought. Look at him? Talk to him? Think about what happened? Think about what he did? About what happened to her? Just can’t relive those moments again? Not with him; in front of him. Not when she already relives them in her mind almost every minute of every day.
“I just can’t… do this.” She finished lamely.
“Marie---“
“Stop,” she interrupted. “Don’t call me that. I’m Rogue now, remember? Rogue. And I’m finished here, okay? I really am. I’m sorry you came out all this way. I’m sorry you came out all this way for nothing. But I don’t know what else you could have expected. I told you before. I can’t---I can’t. I just can’t. I need more time.”
Her hands were trembling. Tears began to well up in her eyes.
“Rogue.” His tone of voice was pleading, then insistent. “It’s the team.”
That certainly caught her attention. She knit her brows together in confusion.
“They need your help.”
She sobered rather quickly at the thought of any of her old friends needing her help so badly that they sent the one person, the last person on earth who she wanted to see, to come fetch her.
“What’s wrong?” The worry was evident in her voice.
His eyes cut to the dog once more, then back to the girl before him. “I think we’d better go inside to talk.”
Her hesitation was obvious. She could see the twitch of a muscle in his neck and she knew he was struggling not to say anything as he let her make the decision for the next move. She had to give him credit. Scott always said that Logan was an animal, wild and impulsive. But she knew better than anyone how patient Logan could be.
She slapped her hands on her thighs and whistled to her canine companion. He immediately eased his shoulders and looked back at his owner. But he didn’t budge from his stance. He still wasn’t sure about the intruder that made his human act funny. She whistled again and he very slowly took a step back.
“That’s enough, Winston.” At the sound of his name he walked to her and pushed his giant head into her side. An act of submission as well as reminding her that he would always take care of her. She almost smiled at the memory of a similar promise made to her so long ago.
A promise that, like so many others, had failed to be kept.
“Let’s go inside, Winston.” She curled her fingers around the inside rim of his collar. Having him so close helped calm her nerves and give her courage. She looked beyond Winston, past the porch and onto the man standing on her gravel driveway. He was stoic. All except for the twitch of the muscle in his neck.
“Are you coming?” She asked with restrained emotion.
He only briefly hesitated before moving his legs and following behind her. The slam of the screen door in his face not lost on him at all.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I am new to fanfiction and have never written a fanfic story of my own before. I thought I would test the waters with my first fictional contribution.