Cotton in his ears. Muffled voices. Remnants of screaming pain runnin’ through him. He almost groaned. Felt like he’d been dropped by a ton of bricks. Scents of two individuals, each vaguely familiar. He hated one of ‘em. Wouldn’t mind more of the other.

“...should’ve let me handle it!”

Angry voices now. This one was like honey on fire. But he liked it.

The sound of scoffing and a slew of French words. His brain too addled to translate.

“I was makin’ progress ‘til you messed it all up. Shoulda come alone. He’s never gonna listen now.”

The sounds of pacing now. Boots on concrete.

A noise of dismissal. “You never would have come if Scott hadn’t made you.”

Silence.

Who the hell was Scott?

The pacing had stopped, but it was followed by a low warning growl. The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the noise.

“How much of ‘im you take in, chère?” The man said in a bitter tone. “How much you already have in there, eh?”

He was becoming more aware now. Could detect the fading scent of charred blood. Of something explosive. The scent of decaying garbage in the bins in the alley…

Fuck. Everything came back in an instant and he felt adrenaline flood his system.

“I know you’re awake,” came the woman’s voice.

He’d been lying prone on the alley ground, unmoved apparently from when he’d passed out...how the fuck had she done that? His eyes sprang open and he saw the man pointing a glowing bō staff directly at his head. The woman was staring at him from a few feet away, flares of gold ebbing in her eyes, arms crossed around herself. She was conflicting as hell. Her body seemed cagey, anxious, more animalistic than before, but her scent held excitement, grief, and...christ, arousal.

“You can sit up, homme,” the red-eyed prick said. “Lentement, non?

Logan narrowed his eyes at the man, but did as he said. He sat up slowly, not wanting to feel whatever the fuck had just happened again anytime soon. His back rested against the brick wall of the Red Bar, and he blinked rapidly as he tried to clear his eyesight. Whatever the fuck she’d done to him had been powerful. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she glared back. Stiffened her spine and dropped her hands to her sides, fists clenching. He recognized it for what it was. It was something he did himself. It was to signal she was a threat. Don’t fuck with me, her body screamed.

Slowly, so they could read his intentions, he moved one hand up to rub at the skin of his neck where she’d touched him. He grunted, gently rubbing the skin between his thumb and forefinger. It was ultra sensitive, like right after healing from some deep cut. Tingly and painful. Somethin’ he wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon.

“Look,” he grumbled roughly , “I don’t know what it is that I did to get on yer bad side, but I don’t want any more trouble.”

The man sneered, looking him up and down with disgust.

“Especially if this swamp rat has anything to do with it,” he added, just to see the Cajun squirm.

Ton chien,” The Cajun began, but the woman cut him off.

“Enough! Take a walk, Remy.”

“But petite -”

“Go,” she growled.

Logan’s interest was more than piqued now. Though he still didn’t want anything to do with the Cajun bastard, the woman was a different story. Somethin’ that dangerous wrapped up in a package that enticing...yeah. He was interested.

The red-eyed prick scowled before turning sharply, stashing the bō staff back inside his coat pocket, and stalking down the alley until Logan could no longer make out his sulphurous stench.

The woman sighed, closed her eyes for a moment, and then did something he didn’t expect. She sat down on the ground of the filthy alleyway across from him, legs crossed, palms resting on her knees facing upward.

He slowly moved to mirror her pose and looked her in the eye. Still occasional flashes of gold swirled with brown. He’d never seen anything like it and was fuckin’ fascinated.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said softly, meeting his gaze full on before looking down at her hands. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Logan said nothing as he assessed her scent. She was tellin’ the truth. He took in the long hair falling at her shoulders and saw her dark green shirt had been burned at the collar bone. He frowned seeing the blood-stained edges of the fabric, but where the shirt had been singed, he saw the skin underneath was smooth and unblemished. No bleeding wound. No injury. What the hell? Was she a healer too? Somethin’ in her body language was screaming feral, but that wasn’t what he’d got off her at first. Plus, whatever she could do was powerful enough to take him down. He moved his hand up again to touch the skin of his neck. Better now, but still sensitive. He noticed she was waiting for him to reply before she continued. He grunted and nodded for her to proceed. He wasn’t up to more than that. Not until he knew what the hell was goin’ on here.

She closed her eyes then. And he recognized the signs of someone who was tryin’ to regain control. The slow deep breaths and gradual relaxation of the shoulders. It also showed him that she trusted him not to attack. That she was letting her guard down, if only slightly.

The woman opened her eyes again, looked at him, gold still flaring occasionally in their wide depths, and began to speak. “My name is Rogue, and I have a helluva story to tell ya. But it’s a lot to lay on anyone, especially sittin’ on the ground in a filthy alley that smells like rotting fish, stale beer, and old fryer oil.”

He saw her nose wrinkle in disgust as she took in their surroundings before she continued.

“I know you can tell if I’m telling the truth,” Rogue said looking back at him.

He narrowed his eyes at this, feelin’ uneasy as she revealed she knew more about him than he was comfortable with.

“But even so, what I have to tell ya is an awful lot to swallow. So, I’ll just say this; you know how to fight. Better than anyone I’ve ever seen -”

He couldn’t help interrupting with a low growl. “You been watchin’ me?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s -” she exhaled in frustration and ran her fingers through her hair before letting her hand rest on her leg again. “That’s not how I know that.”

Truth.

He relaxed slightly and saw her nod as if deciding something.

“I’d like to ask for your help. To train me. To train us.”

Logan felt one eyebrow raise and rumbled disbelievingly, “You...and the Cajun?”

“No, yes. Ugh! This is harder than I thought it’d be. Look. Yes, Remy is part of it, but there are others you’d be training too. There’s a school, in New York, for people like us. Mutants.”

She stopped then, cocked her head to the side, eyes going slightly unfocused, as if listening to something he couldn’t hear, then nodded.

“Look, Logan. I’ve messed this up and anythin’ I say right now is gonna sound ludicrous. So here goes nothin’. There’s a mutant at our school who couldn’t control his powers. I ended up getting sucked through a portal he made into an alternate dimension and met you there. You helped us. Taught us how to fight. And now that I’m back in this world, we need you. We need you to help us here.”

“That it?” he questioned calmly after she didn’t continue. “You need me to help you and these kids at your school learn ta fight?”

She bit her lip, worrying it for a few seconds and he flicked his eyes to watch her as he thought about what she’d blurted out. Christ. Another world? Another him? She was right. It did sound ludicrous. But her scent was calm, heartbeat steady, if a bit fast. Either she was crazy and believed every word she’d said, or it was the truth.

“Yes,” she said finally, watching him. He dragged his eyes away from her lips, back to her eyes. “There are threats out there. People that wanna hurt us. And they’re gettin’ stronger.”

“Did I train you?” He asked cautiously, watching her closely for her reaction, momentarily ignoring the part she’d said about a threat.

Logan noted the slight clenching of her jaw, the flexing and shifting of her legs. Watching her struggle with the answer told him everything he needed to know. No way in hell he’d pass up a chance to get his hands on her. It was too easy to picture. Him showing her the proper technique for a take down, guiding her movements, seeing the glint of sweat at her temples as she mastered the skills. Oh, he’d work her hard. Get her so hot as they moved together, her body becoming liquid in his hands, the scent of her filling him up until he couldn’t take it anymore...

Fuck, he thought harshly looking at her. She was staring at him. Nostrils flared as she breathed slightly faster. It had him wondering just what in the fuck she’d really taken from him when she touched him. Healed skin, acute sense, flashing gold eyes...jesus fuck.

“Yes.”

Yes? Yes, what? He had no clue what the fuck she was talkin’ about. She’d taken some of him. What’d she said her name was? Rogue? Made perfect fuckin’ sense now.

She must’ve seen the confusion in his eyes and kindly elaborated. “Yes, you trained me.”

He watched her slowly get up from her seated position, wrinkle that nose again as she brushed off a patch of something unidentifiable from her jeans and exhaled.

Logan followed her lead, slowly standing until he wasn’t more than a few inches from her. He looked down into her eyes, now mostly brown again. She looked up, unafraid of the challenge he was silently issuing.

“What if I need somethin’ more to convince me?” he asked quietly.

Rogue didn’t blink at the question. “Like what?”

“Proof.”

She narrowed her eyes at the request. “Like what?” she repeated again, slower this time. A hint of anger coming through in her words.

He wanted to grin. There weren’t many people who’d stand up to him like this. But then again, he’d already seen she could drop him where he stood, so likely she didn’t have much to worry about.

He saw her mind working as she tried to think of something that he’d find proof-worthy.

“Wolverine,” she said finally. Her voice was hushed. Expectant. “I know that’s the name you went by. I know that’s what you call him. I know what it feels like to be overcome by his instincts. Feel them surge through you and make you strong. To rely on your senses, your gut. I know what it feels like as the claws slice through your skin. Yours are adamantium. Mine were bone. I know you want nothin’ more than to walk away right now. To walk away from this stinking alley and never look back. But somethin’ is tellin’ you to stay. Somethin’ you can’t quite figure out. Somethin’ you don’t wanna figure out, but that you know is right. Right down in the fuckin’ marrow of your bones.”

Jesus fuck. She’s a fuckin’ witch.

He stood still. Breathing in, concentrating on the clean warm citrus scent of her. She didn’t break eye contact as she reached into the front pocket of her jeans and withdrew a slightly rumpled looking business card. He noted a prominent X embossed on the front along with an address and phone number. New York.

“Think about it,” she said holding it out to him. He couldn’t move. He was paralyzed. Unsure of what he wanted to do. She noted his indecision, and instead of simply placing the card in his hand, she stared right into his eyes as she slowly reached forward to his leather jacket, and stuffed the card unceremoniously into the front left pocket.

He swallowed and clenched his fists, watching her as she turned on one foot and strode away, back down the alley.

What in the fuck had just happened?
___


Rogue walked, following the curve of the alley back around toward the street. She kept her shoulders straight, her gait even, as a war waged inside her head. Then she waited until she was sure he was out of sight and let the trembling overtake her as she sank to her knees, resting back on her heels.

She covered her face with her hands as she struggled for control, tears burning behind closed eyes. It’d been too much. So much more difficult than she’d imagined. The way he’d looked at her, right through her, like she was a stranger, had left her feeling like she’d been punched in the gut. This Logan’s hair was a touch longer, and she’d wanted to run her fingers through it to see how that length felt in her hand. She’d wanted to run to him and run from him, all at the same time.

She’d only had a few months since she’d last touched him, and she’d been grieving ever since. Lost. Alone. And to see him again, whole and alive, the same, but now a damned stranger all the same. She didn’t know how Logan had done it. She didn’t think she could. She didn’t know if she was strong enough.

And it had become even harder the moment she’d taken a hit from him. Damn Remy for messing everything up! She thought they’d had an understanding since she returned. He’d moved on, she’d moved on. But apparently he’d been holding on to some unresolved feelings, and he’d jeopardized the entire mission as a result.

She moved one hand up to her head, still trying to sort out the swirling mess inside. Even though her Logan had told her to find this one, he’d been mad as hell when his persona had started to bloom inside her.

Who the fuck is that?

What the fuck are you?

Snarling and bickering and trying to keep them separate all the while trying to overcome the fresh dose of instincts and senses that had flooded her blood when she’d touched him. She hadn’t been able to overcome the sudden swell of arousal as she breathed in his scent, her body reacting to really seeing him, remembering how he felt moving inside her.

Remy’s poorly aimed projectile had burned hot as it struck her collar bone, singeing the skin beneath, and she’d instantly seen his look of regret as Logan had charged him. There hadn’t been any time to react, and she’d done the only thing that could get all of them out of the rapidly deteriorating situation alive. She’d reached out and pressed her fingers to the back of his neck. He’d frozen, instantly, and she pushed aside her guilt at doing this to him and focused on trying to control the connection. She didn’t need to take much, just enough to keep him from impaling Remy.

Shoulda let him, Cajun bastard ain’t good fer anything, one of the Logans snarled. The other grunted his assent. They’d tried giving her competing advice while she’d been trying to talk to the Logan in front of her. She didn’t know which was which and took a deep breath to try and contain them both. Separately. She didn’t want them mixing. The thought of it...it was too much.

Then she’d played her hand. Shown him what she was gonna show him about why they’d sought him out. He didn’t need to know more. She was here to ask for help, not to ask him to be her boyfriend. Then, she’d walked away. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the facade she was projecting, not for much longer.

After several minutes, confident she’d done what she could to contain them both, Rogue stood back up, wiped the tears from her face and cleared her throat. She had to find Remy and then make the trek back to the jet. She knew Logan wouldn’t come with them. Not right now, anyway. He needed time to consider what she’d said. The brief hit of him had unnervingly left her with one impression though; Logan was intrigued by her, and he wanted to know more.

God help her.

___

Rogue found Remy back at the Red Bar, sitting at the very counter Logan had occupied just minutes ago. He had an empty coupe cocktail glass in front of him, cherry stem and orange peel twist rolling around the bottom as he twirled the glass between his fingers.

She sat down next to him, silently, trying to figure out what to say.

“Turns out dey can make a manhattan, chère. And not a bad one, neither.” He brought the glass back up to his lips and tipped the last few drops into his mouth, and set it back down gently while signaling the hassled looking bartender for two more.

She let out a small huff of air. He was gonna need more than a good cocktail to apologize for what’d happened back there in the alley with Logan. But as her drink came and she took a sip - wow, it was good - now she was thinking the blame wasn’t all one sided. She had plenty of opportunities to have it out with him over the last few months. She’d told Kitty and Jubilee everything that happened to her, but she and Remy hadn’t shared more than a few words since she returned. Obviously, that had been a mistake.

“Where is he?” Remy asked after a few tense moments where they both sipped gingerly at their cocktails, trying to figure out what to say to the other.

Rogue shook her head. “Not comin’,” she said simply.

He grunted next to her, an indifferent noise she couldn’t quite make out.

“Remy -” he started, took another sip of his drink and cleared his throat. “Remy put you at risk, Rogue.” He shook his head. “Dat something I never wanted to do.”

“I-” she started, but he interrupted her.

No, petite. Dis one is on Remy. Maybe we shoulda had a talk before this mission, non?”

Rogue nodded as she brought the glass to her lips. “You’re not wrong,” she muttered into her drink.

“Well, chère. Now as good a time as any.”

___

Several manhattans later, Rogue and Remy made their way back to the jet which they’d landed in stealth mode in the nearby Yoyogi Park. Rogue had felt uneasy at landing in such an exposed public place, but Remy had assured her they’d landed in worse spots before.

“You gonna be okay flyin’ this thing?” Rogue asked as they strode up the gangway. They’d each had several drinks, and nothing to eat. She was feeling pleasantly floaty, not only from the cocktails, but the sheer relief of having that conversation done and over with. It’d been long overdue, and clearly necessary. But it was finally over. They were finally and officially over. Remy was moving on with Jubilee and Rogue was...well, moving on.

Chère, dis thing practically fly itself,” he said confidently, closing the ramp behind them.
“Remy just push a few buttons to start ‘her up and we be home before we know it.”

The flight did go fast, and they made it back to the mansion in a little over four hours. She felt odd as the afternoon sunlight hit the mansion’s roof as they approached for touchdown. It’d been night when they left Tokyo, and she thought it was still the same day, but wasn’t quite up on her timezones yet. The quick escalation of events too had left her feeling dizzy, and she found herself torn between relief and disappointment at the outcome of the mission. Scott only clenched his jaw as he greeted them, seeing them depart the jet alone. “Debrief in thirty minutes,” he said tightly, and Rogue steeled herself for a lecture for failing on her first official mission.

“Don’ worry, petite,” Remy muttered as he joined her at the end of the gangway, watching Scott turn away. “Scott get over it quick enough.”

They went their separate ways then, each heading upstairs to their respective rooms since they hadn't been in uniform for this mission. The brief hit of Logan’s senses had faded in the last several hours, but she could still smell a hint of charred fabric lingering in her hair. She stripped out of her clothes, frowning as she tossed her ruined shirt into the trash can, and showered quickly, sighing with pleasure as the heated water sprayed against her, washing the scent of the dirty alley away. No time for dallying, she quickly toweled off and changed into a fresh set of clothes; jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt, and a comfortable pair of tennis shoes. If she was about to be raked over the coals, she figured she might as well be comfortable doing it.

Glancing at her watch, Rogue swore as she put away the blow dryer, and instead vigorously towel dried her hair, leaving it damp and loose. She hurried back downstairs, past the other rooms for teachers, through the corridor of classrooms, and then finally down to the sublevel for her debrief.

She must have been cutting it close; Scott had an annoyed set to his jaw as she strode in, closed the door behind her, and took a seat beside Remy. It was just the three of them, and Rogue found herself relieved that she wouldn’t have to report the failed mission to the Professor. Not directly at least. She was sure Scott would fill him in afterward.

“Alright, obvious mission outcome aside, let’s hear your reports,” Scott said decisively.

Rogue looked to Remy, eyes broadcasting her mild panic. They were supposed to have prepared a report? When? In the shower?

But Remy smiled as he turned to face Scott, and started telling him a summary of what’d gone down on the mission. Rogue felt herself breathe a quiet sigh of relief. She could tell Scott what happened no problem. His needless formality in calling it a report almost had her rolling her eyes.

When Remy got to the part in the alley where he’d thrown a charged projectile at Logan, she noted the hesitation in his voice. Scott must’ve noticed too; his jaw clenched and he folded his arms as he waited for Remy to get on with it.

“Remy he, uh...miss de target. Homme was fast.” Rogue saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat as he continued. “He hit Rogue instead, just here,” he motioned to his own collar bone. “At her shoulder.”

Scott jerked his head toward Rogue and held up his hand to stop Remy from finishing his account.

“Rogue, why didn’t you say you were injured? I’ll get Jean in here,” and he moved quickly toward the debrief room door.

“No,” Rogue interrupted quickly.

“Hank then?” Scott asked frowning, still inching closer to the door.

No,” she said firmly. “I’m fine.”

Scott finally stopped trying to leave to get help and turned to face her, frown still etched on his face. “So is one of you going to tell me what the hell happened?”

Rogue decided it would be easier for her to explain than Remy. She was the one who’d done it, afterall.

“I touched him. I told you about his mutation in our other sessions. He was about to gut Remy, so I touched him. He went down, and I absorbed his mutation.”

“Any ill effects from the feral attributes?”

Now Rogue was the one shifting uncomfortably in her chair, every part of her focusing on keeping the Logans in her head quiet and contained, trying not to remember how the enhanced senses felt flowing through her blood, the rush of power, the instinct to get closer to Logan at any cost. “Only a few minutes to contain it. Just enough time for my burns to heal and for Logan to regain consciousness.”

“Good,” Scott said as he strode back over to his position at the head of the table. “Continue, Remy.”

“Well,” Remy cleared his throat again. “Remy decide to give homme some space after what happened. Chère, took it from there.”

Rogue considered it a point of pride that she didn’t roll her eyes at him.

Coward, one of the Logans snarled. It really annoyed her that she couldn’t tell which one, and further tightened up the barriers between them as she summarized her conversation with Logan. She left out the more personal details like about how it felt to hunt as Wolverine, and how aroused she’d been as she’d taken in Logan’s scent again. Scott definitely didn’t need to know about that.

“...and so I left him with our card. He didn’t refuse to come, but he didn’t say yes either. I left the door open for him,” she finished after a few minutes. It hadn’t taken much longer to fill in the rest. Scott had let her talk uninterrupted, and she imagined his eyes narrowing further as she continued. The outcome was a failure. That’s all he would see. He wouldn’t see how hard it had been for her, or even how hard it would’ve been if she would’ve succeeded in getting him here.

“You do realize what this means, right?” he asked after a moment of contemplation.

Rogue could tell by Scott’s tone it was a rhetorical question. He’d be answering it himself, soon enough. And she didn’t have to wait long.

“A failure to secure Logan as combat instructor means we may not be prepared as we need to be for what’s next. It means that unless for some reason he decides to show up at the mansion out of the blue, that we’ll need to be more focused than ever. You’re both dismissed,” he said curtly, turning his back to them.

Neither she nor Remy spoke, but Rogue felt anger running through her at the implication in Scott’s final words. She’d done what she could. Short of draining Logan far closer to the edge and dragging his heavy ass back to the jet, that is. He’d come in his own time. She knew they hadn’t seen the last of him. Knew it, right down in the fuckin’ marrow of her bones.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Rogue said firmly, and with that final pronouncement, Rogue pushed her chair back from the table and turned on her heel to exit the debrief room. After the day she had, she deserved one hell of a good night’s sleep.

__
Chapter End Notes:
Man, Scott can be such an ass, amiright?

Just two chapters left now. Thanks to everyone for your amazing support and comments! And thank you so much for continuing the journey with me, friends!!
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