An Interlude

 

Okay you bald-headed bastard. What the hell are you up to? Why’d you pick Marie? Logan crosses his arms over his chest, glaring down at Charles and Erik as they play chess. She was messed up enough with all that cure bullshit.  Why’d you pick her?

Charles raises one eyebrow. Logan, please, have a seat.  We can be civilized. We have much to discuss. He just knows Erik is rolling his eyes.  Erik and Logan have never gotten along, either in Rogue’s mind or out of it. He could hardly expect them to start now, but it would be nice if they’d make an effort.

Fuck you, Wheels. I don’t hear any answers there. Why’d you pick her? She don’t need your brain mucking up what she’s going through. He sends the memory of the cure killing her skin, of her writhing in agony. Both Charles and Erik wince.

And yet our Rogue has kept you under lock and key. Erik raises a lighter and lights his own cigarette. Pretty telling, meinst du nicht?

Logan rushes forward, his face white with fury. Erik, expecting it, whirled to face him, the chair clattering against the floor. Charles jumps up in time to hold Logan and Erik back from each other with one hand on either man’s chest.  Sit. Down. He puts a touch of his gift behind each word and both men sit as far from each other as they possibly can.

To answer your question, I picked Rogue since I knew that she would be less likely to panic if I started talking to her in her head. To my great regret, it took several days for my ‘self’ to manifest. Had I been earlier I would have done my level best to stop her from taking that sham of a cure.  Charles sighs, idly playing with a rook as he thinks. Erik is staring at his twisting fingers. Logan doesn’t look away from his eyes. You two are more... shadows of Rogue’s subconscious. With her mut... her former mutation... she would take on the thoughts and personalities of whomever she touched. Through working with her, we discovered that the stronger personalities tended to ‘stick,’ while the less adamant personalities faded into obscurity, much like their borrowed mutations.  

Like Pyro? Logan is caught in Charles’ explanation despite himself.

Exactly so. The major difference is that my use of Rogue’s mind is temporary. I fully intend to regain the use of another body, and once that feat is accomplished Rogue will no longer have me ‘in her head’ as you say.

Erik sits up, his face pulling down in a frown.  Wait. Does that mean that this is temporary? He gestures with his hand from Charles’ solemn face to his own. His frown is more pronounced when Charles simply nods.

Logan switches his cigar to the other side of his mouth and inhales deeply while he thinks. Okay. So explain that Danvers bitch.

Ah. Yes, well that is actually what gives me hope that my plan will work. You see, Ms. Danvers was the first personality that Rogue was able to successfully control.  

She shouldn’ta been on that mission in the first place. At least not with Scooter. You had to know that was gonna go to shit with him still being all fucked up over Jeannie.

Charles just stares at him. He’s much too polite to roll his eyes, but it is fairly obvious that he wishes to do so. Regardless, she was able to successfully purge the more ... shall we say ... uncouth aspects of Ms. Danvers personality, yet still keep her powers. Well at least until she took that cure.

Erik stands and crosses to the drink cart, pouring himself a scotch and tossing it back.  His back is rigid. Logan isn’t exactly the feelings whisperer, but even he can tell that something was wrong. So what is our timetable? It seems that this will take some time. Especially if we have to shake the Wolverine when he finds out that she is not coming back to that mansion.

Charles sighs again. Logan looks the slightest bit smug. I agree, old friend. But perhaps we should wait to discuss our plans further. Rogue is, after all, rather important to any decisions that we do make.  

Erik nods and sets down the glass. He doesn’t comment that his fingers are just slightly shaking. He looks over at Charles again and his eyes soften.  Chess?

Charles’ smile lights up the room.

 


 

Erik wasn’t normally one to admit to nervousness. Raven had always considered him to be more of a balls-to-the-wall and brazen it out sort of guy.  Charles, for those few months that he had not been ashamed to call Erik his friend, had constantly looked for some sort of good in him, like a talisman that he refused to relinquish. Charles had seen his darkness. He knew Erik’s mind. Yet he still- even decades after Erik had taken his own group of miscreants and split to what would later be the Brotherhood,  believed that Erik would triumph over his own darkness in the end.

 

Erik felt his eyes roll in their customary pull as he pushed himself a little bit harder, his muscles burning just slightly as he ran around the mansion.  Running had always helped him to think. Erik rather enjoyed being out in the elements, and often considered that the closest that he would ever come to contentment was here in the dreamscape of Rogue’s mind.

 

The fact that he nor the mansion actually existed was neither here nor there.  That thought had caused him to snort.

 

Erik wasn’t a fool.  He knew that his ... existence was not real. However much of the real “him” Rogue had absorbed had changed so completely, that often Erik was left wondering if anything was even based in reality. Was he actually thinking these things? Was this somehow just a dream in Rogue’s mind?  Since Charles had returned so miraculously (and he had grieved just as much, more even, than any of Charles’ students had done when he learned that Charles had been murdered by the Phoenix) it was as though Erik was somehow stronger. The bitterness of his regrets... well. They had not faded away precisely, but they no longer made him burn with shame. Perhaps that dark, dreamlike time of mourning had helped to purge them.

 

He ran a little faster, pushing himself, enjoying the burn as his lungs forced oxygen into his lungs. Charles’ explanation to him and the Wolverine had filled him with a sudden and shocking fear. If he was... more with Charles, then how would he survive without him?

 

Of course, as maudlin as the thought was, Erik had been wondering a variant of the same question for over forty years.  

 

Charles had kept the specifics of his plan very close to his chest.  That had hardly changed over the years.  Experience had made him a cautious man. Denied the chance to help Charles with his scheme- for surely any plan that involved some kind of .... consciousness switch had to be completely in the realm of science fiction; Erik instead found himself interacting with Rogue much, much more than he had ever intended.

 

She was rather delightful. Intelligent, independent, witty, fierce... and had utterly loathed him from the second he “woke” in her head.  With good reason of course.  Erik wasn’t too fond of people who had attempted to kill him either, but to be fair he never found himself sharing a mind with any of them.  

 

Erik turned the corner, his sneakers sliding a little on the loose gravel. His lungs burned as he ran, his body tightening as his muscles shifted and stretched under his skin. He could feel his sweat as it slid down his forehead. He was lost for awhile in just the feel of the burn of this younger body that he now found himself in.  He doubted that he could have ever actually ran this fast when he was a younger man given the number of packs of cigarettes he had smoked every week.

 

Still, while he could he would enjoy it.

 

“Erik?”

 

Charles stood, leaning against a concrete pillar.  Erik almost ran right by him before the tentative tone in his voice had him almost skidding to a cartoonish stop.  He wiped his brow with his arm and steeled himself to meet Charles’ eyes. Erik was aware that his behavior had been a little ... off while Charles was providing his earlier explanations.  He just hadn’t expected his friend to notice. Which was rather asinine of him. Charles was extremely perceptive. Erik liked to think that Charles was extremely perceptive when it came to ... him.

 

“Would you care for a drink?” Charles nodded towards the two lawn chairs set near a pitcher of lemonade.

 

Erik shrugged, then softened the curt gesture with a small smile. “That sounds good, thank you.” He was horribly aware of how stilted he sounded.  He stretched so that his muscles wouldn’t lock up and collapsed rather ungracefully onto the chair.  Charles gave him a fond smile before pouring him a drink of the lemonade.

 

“Do you want to discuss it, Erik? Your mind has been... occupied as of late. With very good reason, of course.” Charles’ hand wave encompasses the strangely idyllic setting in which they now find themselves.

 

Erik snorts, then drains his glass of lemonade. “Where to start, old friend?”

 

Charles sighs and undoes the top two buttons on his dress shirt, tilting his face so that he looks up at the sun. All at once he looks so mouth-watering that Erik fumbles for the pitcher so that he won’t grab him. It is more difficult than he expected, seeing his friend so young, so much like the Charles he has not been able to bring himself to quite forget.  

 

Scheiße!

 

Erik is quite honest enough with himself to admit that he was pretty much fucked.  Even this shade of Charles makes his body react.

 

He’d purposefully made his mind unassailable to Charles’ mutation with the helmet. Rogue had accused him  of looking like a condom with a cape, and he’d been shocked enough at her audacity to admit that, perhaps, his guise as Magento was rather ridiculous.  Really, he should have patented the black leather before Charles had scooped it up for his own, but as they say hindsight is ever 20/20. Still, he did not think that causing Charles to believe that he had done so out of disgust of his telepathic abilities was one of his better decisions.

 

“Perhaps.... perhaps if I could make an observation.”  Charles was still stretched out towards the sun, not looking at Erik. Which is perhaps a good thing, since the rather goofy grin on his face makes him look utterly ridiculous.  “Of course.” He gulps at the lemonade, licking a stray drop that rolls onto his lips.

 

“If I were infallible, we would not be here right now. I do know that I managed a rather spectacular cock-up, you realize.”

 

Erik chokes.  He can count the number of times on one hand that Charles had admitted to being wrong.   Charles turns lazily to where Erik is sure that his face is beet-red. He hastily sets down the glass and schools his face into something more impassive.  

“How so?”

Charles waved his hand about. “Oh you know. Rogue is tremendously intelligent, and I admit that I am pleased that she is strong enough of mind to handle having her... peanut gallery, as she so charmingly refers to us. I am afraid that things on... the outside, as it were will get worse before they get better.” Charles reaches out and grabs Erik’s hand. “I am... grateful that you are here, old friend. I hope you do realize that.”

Erik blinks, feels the smile stretch his face. “I do.” He takes Charles’ hand and turns it over, rubbing the palm with his thumbs. “Charles. I am yours to do with what you wish, but I would rest easier if I knew what you planned. How exactly do you plan to use Rogue and the Wolverine to get your body back?”

Charles smiles faintly, a slight flush high on his cheeks at Erik’s touch. Erik feels as though Juggernaut hit him directly in the chest. He has to force himself not to react, and drops Charles’ hand with a small smile of his own.

“Ah. Well. That will take quite a bit of explanation....”




 Logan

[Six weeks later...]

It hurts. I can feel it when they cut me open, feel the acidic mixture they use to coat the open wounds where they flayed me. Part of my mind is screaming, not knowing why I agreed to this.

Because that’s the worst part. Knowing that I signed up for this. That I allowed them to turn me into this.  But no, I never would have agreed to the experimentation, the endless torture after torture. Would I?

It doesn’t really matter. The adamantium burns as it coats my bones. It burns as it hardens, as my healing factor tries to get rid of the foreign substance. My head falls back as I scream and I can see them, laughing and toasting each other. Their scents are trapped in the small room, their desire and disgust and cockiness lapping over everything.

I turn my head and scream as a new volley of the adamantium coats my toes, my hipbones, my pelvic area. I hear them laugh about possibly coating my dick in the stuff and it must be a sign of how fucked up I am that I don’t even react.  A figure in a dark cloak catches my attention and I instinctively know that they mean me no harm. I watch as the figure comes close, and I can hear my cracked vocal cords begging, pleading for help, to kill me, to make the pain stop.  I catch the scent and know she is female and safe and --

I am waking up from my nightmare with my claws impaling Marie’s chest, her wide, shocked eyes starting to feel the pain from my attack.

“Somebody Help!”  It’s useless. There is no way to take this back. I’ve killed this sweet kid... this innocent girl. Her eyes cloud with pain, and her lips tremble as she forms my name. “Logan...”

No I’m sorry, please no...

A brush of her hand on my cheek and I can smell the death on her skin. Only there’s this pull. I feel weak. I can see the lines on her face as my life energy is sucked out of me, and then it clicks and I’m grateful for her mutation, no her gift it’s a gift it’s a gift that’s gonna save her...

I wake up with my claws extended and for a second I’m not sure if I’ve cried out or not. My body was covered with sweat and I’d kicked off the sheets again.  Living at Mutant High has cured my tendency to sleep naked, but the sweats I’m wearing feel just as clammy as my skin. It’s about an hour until sunrise. I look out the window while I try to shake off the nightmare.  I’ve been dreamin’ about this shit for years. It doesn’t take a damn head-shrink to figure out the addition of Marie to my dreams, but it’s an added complication I don’t really need.

I gave ‘Ro her week.  There had been a lot to do- not only around the mansion, but in general. I took on teaching history in addition to self-defense and mechanics, and had kept busy enough around the mansion. I didn’t actually see ‘Ro very much. Furball was out and about, trying to calm down some of the shitstorm Magneto and Jean had created before it imploded in our faces. I’m not sure the students were all that thrilled with the teaching team of me, ‘Ro, and BAMF boy, but given the recent events they were lucky to get much of anything.

The temperature was getting slightly cooler and I figured that I had enough time before the mutant munchkins were going to be up and about; enough time anyway to go for a run. Suddenly I wanted to be outside so badly I could barely breathe. The room still stank of the sweat from my nightmare.  I took a few minutes to put on some shoes and socks. What? You try running barefoot with metal bones in your damn foot, see how comfortable it is for you before you judge me.  

No one was up when I went downstairs. I entered the alarm and took off into the woods with a steady lope that let my body work just hard enough that I could filter out all the junk and just think without worrying about my body.  Besides. Doing something physical always put me in a better mood. Usually it was fucking or fighting though, but there sure as hell was a lack of that around here. Responsibility sucked goat dick. That’s why I tended to avoid it at all costs.

Only... this really wasn’t a bad gig.  Complacency usually scared the shit out of me, but I was honest enough to know that I owed these people something. If nothing else, I owed it to Chuck’s memory. He might have been an idealistic, arrogant ass, but he really had done good. Real, honest good for the kids here.  I jumped over a few rocks to avoid the stream, then continued through the dark woods, upping my speed a little.

Things would have been a lot more fucked up if I hadn’t gone up to the little Iceprick and offered an apology.  I still wanted to gut him on occasion, but his face when I tossed him the Playboys was pretty damn funny.  I didn’t think we’d ever be best buds or anything, but I knew that I had ... possibly overreacted. Maybe. A little.

I was glad that he found the Kittycat to help make him feel better, but damn if every time I saw that kid the image of him jumping up with his junk flopping around was pretty much burned in my retinas.  I had caught the Firecracker giving me a few dark looks when I didn’t break up their little makeout session. I wouldn’t say that I encouraged them, exactly. I mean, it was a teacher’s responsibility to make sure they practiced safe sex, right? Giving the Iceprick the rubbers was just me being ... responsible.  It had nothing to do with the fact that I wanted his mind off of Marie.

Yeah, I wouldn’t believe that shit either.

I felt my lips twist in a smirk as I ran through the woods, turning at the clearing to come out past the gates on the main road. The Furball had actually been kind of badass. He and a few of Chuck’s old students had taken it upon themselves to try to do some kind of damage control. Lots of news footage of them putting the Golden Gate back in order. Working with engineers to make sure everything was safe. There was an older lady who had the ability to go so fast that she was just a blur to the naked eye, and the image of her flying out of nowhere to save some politician from falling off the rocky edge of Alcratraz had sure helped.  

When the news came out that some of the batches of the cure were temporary the shit had really hit the fan.  When the Furball had discovered that some of the batches were even mixed with a sterilization agent, the shit had not only hit the fan, but had buffered the osculating blades in such a way that even the norms had gotten involved.  Sure, repress mutants for years but get someone’s right to get knocked up (or knock someone up) involved and suddenly we had people marching for us, picketing Washington, screaming for mutant rights.

Weird as fuck, man.

When I had heard that not even ‘Ro’s promise could keep me tied to this place. I had been terrified for Marie. Still was. I had found hints of her trail, but the obvious extent which she had gone to make sure that I didn’t follow her plus my responsibilities at the mansion had kept me from going after her. The reports said that some of the mutations came back so strongly that it was like their bodies were getting revenge for all the elapsed time their mutation had been repressed. She had taken it so that she could have a chance at a normal life, and the idea that it wasn’t real....

*BAMF*

I skidded to a stop, my heart thudding in my chest. It was only by the fact that I had long-since recognized Kurt’s scent as ‘friend’ that he didn’t end up with six inches of metal in his throat.

“Wolverine! I haff been sent for you. There is emergency! You are needed.”

The adrenaline from my run barely had time to boil up before he grabs my wrist and bamfs me back to the mansion.  That shit always makes my head spin.  A couple of months back I realized that I didn’t want to lose the advantage of surprise I’d have if I were ever bamfed into a situation, and that had resulted in a very amused Wagner bamfing me from place to place to place. The little fucker had even produced a little barf bag for me. Once I was able to get used to the feeling, I was able to control my nausea which is the only reason I didn’t puke all over the place when he set me in the middle of the hallway. ‘Ro and the Furball were both there, along with a woman I didn’t recognize.

“What’s up?”

“Logan. Thank the goddess you are here. Kurt wasn’t sure if he’d be able to find you.” ‘Ro sounded relieved and I try very hard not to stare at her in her nightgown. Resolutely, I keep my eyes above her neckline, the static electricity incident firmly in my mind. I popped my neck, staring hard at the skinny broad. She smelled of barely restrained panic. I could see her pulse jumping in her throat. She had one hand placed on the Furball’s fuzzy arm and I could see the faint tremors that caused her hand to shake.

“Yeah. What’s the problem then? Who is she?”

“You are the one they call Wolverine?”  Her voice has a slight accent, but I can’t quite place it. It’s only when she turns to me, tilting her face up that I can see that she is blind. Her eyes have no color to them.

I nod, then fell like a dick for nodding when she can’t see me and answer her question.“Yeah. What’s it to you? Who the hell are you, lady?”

“My name is Irene. Irene Adler. And I have news about your Rogue. She’s in terrible, terrible danger!”

The snikt of my claws cause Beast to step forward, turning so that he was in front of her.  “Now, Logan. You are being quite rude. Ms. Adler has come to us with a warning. She is not threatening Rogue.”

Marie would have known that I popped claws because I was nervous, not because I was angry. It was that more than anything that had me breathing deeply, physically trying to calm myself.  

“You’re right.” My low growl seems to startle all four of them. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m a little, jumpy when it comes to mention of Rogue.” Kurt snorts not-quite under his breath and I turn to glare. My “Watch it, bub.” doesn’t seem to intimidate him at all.  That’s the worst part about being seen hanging out with the fuckin rugrats- they start to think that I’m a lot less dangerous than I really am.

“This is, perhaps, not a discussion for the hallway. Kurt, will you post that morning classes are cancelled? Logan, perhaps you can meet us in the briefing room. Hank, if you could please escort our guest there so that we can discuss this?”

“Of course, Ororo. Ms. Adler, if you will kindly follow me.”

I don’t know how much ‘Ro is paying herself for being headmistress, but she can diffuse a tense situation quicker’n anyone I know. I get the subtext: change, calm down or you won’t be invited to play, loud and fucking clear. I run hard upstairs to dive into some clean clothes, and almost knock over the little Firecracker.  

“Whoa! You’re lookin’ good there, boss.” She clutches at my arms for balance.  “Sorry about that. What’s got you so freaked?”

“Not now, Jubes. I’ll catch you later.”  I’m in such a hurry that I don’t even realize that I’ve called her Marie’s nickname until something on her face flickers and softens.

“Oh. Uh, okay. But make sure you find me later okay? I have.. uh. I have something important to tell you.”

“Yeah, kid.” I shut the door in her face and drop trou, jumping in what is probably the quickest shower in the history of the world. I wiggled into my jeans and a tank and running back downstairs before I realize that I didn’t even take the time to dry my hair.  I shake my head, making one of the little kids laugh when I spray her with water, like a dog.  It’s been maybe ten minutes since I ran upstairs and I open the door of the briefing room, sliding inside and sitting down.

Hank is waiting with the woman. Kurt bamfs in about the same time as ‘Ro slips inside the room.

“Okay. Talk.”  Warmer and fuzzier me or not, my voice books no argument.  The woman takes a deep breath and turns slightly.

“I... I know that this will sound bizarre, but please bear with me  My name is Destiny, and my gift is that of precognition.”  

“Vat is that?”

“I can see the future.”

I want to call bullshit, but I have for damn sure seen some weirder shit in my life, so I bite my tongue to keep quiet while she explains.

“My gift is not very powerful. I have rarely gotten very strong visions, but when I do, things happen very much like what I see. But.. not always. Sometimes I am able to get specific visions for specific people if I concentrate.  For instance, I could be watching the news, and will get a flash of something involving one of the people on the screen.  Sometimes the visions are stronger when I touch or when I know the person, but that is not usually necessary to trigger them.” She reached out to slide against the glass of water. She drinks it, seeming grateful for the slight distraction to order her thoughts.

“Yesterday while making my lunch, I got perhaps what is one of the strongest visions I have experienced since I was very young.  I saw a young woman. She was walking in a crowd, and you were beside her. That is how I knew you, you see. You were upset about something and had lagged a few steps behind.” Her voice is slow, measured. I can almost picture what she says, and that more than anything sends my instincts screaming. I can feel the hair on my arms stand straight up.

“The crowd of people were somewhat indistinct, but Rogue is walking with a tall man in a black turtleneck, and a slightly shorter man with very dark hair and blue eyes. The man with the turtleneck throws his head back and laughs and the sight makes Rogue smile. She tucks a strand of the white streak of hair behind her ear. Then, it is as if I am you. We see it in the crowd, a sense of something that should not be. Something is very wrong. Rogue does not notice the danger and when we call out a warning she does not hear. Then- a gun. A shot.”

Her voice was almost frantic now, words tumbling over themselves as she spoke. “People are screaming. We see the man in the turtleneck grab the shoulders of his friend and try to protect him with his body but we have jumped forward, our claws sliding against the floor.  For a moment everything is calm and Rogue turns to us, her eyes very wide. We say ‘Jesus! Fucking thank Jesus Marie you’re okay--.’”

‘Ro gasps and I’m pretty much as freaked out as I’ve ever been. Adler’s voice lowered when she spoke. Changed. Her voice sounded exactly like mine, complete with a growl that her vocal cords shouldn’t be able to make.  I couldn’t take my eyes from her blind gaze as she finished her story.

“--and the red blooms over her heart slowly. It’s so slow and we think that we can stop it. We know we can but she’s falling, sliding down to the filthy floor.  We hold her, can smell the death on her, hear her heartbeat slowing... slowing... so dangerously slow. She reaches up to touch our face and... and... the crowd. Screams from the crowd, screams from the sirens screaming... from our throat screaming No Marie no hurts our ears it hurts Marie no don’t leave me no, it hurts hurts hurts huuurts...” The last word raises in a howl that sends my nuts crawling up in my body, my eyes bugging out. I can smell the rank odor of her fear, and my stomach churns.

“Stop!” The word rips from my throat.  I can’t even register the shocked looks on the team’s faces. I can still see the picture her words painted in my head and knock over my chair as I back up, swiping at the air with my claws as though I can wipe away the movie of Marie being shot that’s playing in my head. I just breathe for awhile, slowly retracting my claws, the familiar, repetitive sound not doing anything to calm me down.

Adler was crying softly, her forehead against the table. “I’m suh.. I’m so sorry. Please believe me.... “ ‘Ro calmed her down, which is probably a good thing since Furball, Bamf boy and I had about the same knowledge of what to do with a hysterically crying woman. Her fingers slid over ‘Ro’s cheekbones, over the white shock of her hair. Slowly she began to calm down, getting her breathing under control.

“Rogue has only contacted me by email since she left. I did give her a phone- well, you found it, didn’t you? When you found Scott’s car?”

I nodded dumbly. All I wanted to do was to go, to escape to find Marie. It was damn near impossible for me to just wait there, but I didn’t know if this chick was crazy or not. This had seemed a little too real to be bullshit, as much as I wanted it to be. “Yeah. She left it in the car so we couldn’t track her. Look, I don’t mean to be a dick here,” Okay.. I probably did. “But what makes you so sure that I can change this? You said that your “visions”,” my voice told the whole room what I think of her so-called gift, “aren’t always one-hundred percent. What makes you think that this one is?”

I start prowling around the room, thinking as I walk, trying not to picture her damn words. For a moment she is silent, then she cringed,  her scent changes to shame.

“Because she is my daughter.” Her whisper was so soft that the words probably wouldn’t have carried across the room, but to me it was as though she shouted them. I blinked, staring into her wet, sightless eyes. The only other sound in the room was the air conditioning coming on.

“Ms. Adler, do you have any sense of time? What I am saying is, can you tell us when these terrible things will come to pass?”  Furball’s normally calm voice is a tad shaky.  I can’t really blame him. I feel like every muscle in my body is practically vibrating. Marie would snort and call me the world’s grouchiest turning fork. The thought makes the worry and barely restrained guilt that I’ve kept firmly shoved in the back of my mind more solid. Suddenly I miss her so much that my throat tightens painfully.

“No.”

‘Ro tapped her chin as she thought.  “You said that you can search through these visions; that you are able to relive them. Is that true?”

“Yes.” She took a deeply shuddering breath and drained the rest of her water. Furball almost tripped  over himself to get her another glass, his gentlemanly manner so ingrained that it is obvious he’s acting deep in thought.

“Is it possible for you to focus on other things in the vision? What I mean is, do you control what you see or does it just come at you?Could you watch it from the guy in the turtleneck’s point of view?”

“I...yes.”

The scent of satisfaction is so strong that I’m surprised the others sitting around ‘Ro can’t smell it.

“You said that you and Logan are in a crowd. Could you switch what you see? Perhaps different details? Such as a cell phone display or a watch from one of the bystanders in the crowd?”  Outwardly ‘Ro’s voice is as calm as ever. Inwardly I can hear her heart rate pounding.

“I... I do not know. I can try.”

Kurt’s gaze meets my own and I realize that I’m nervously popping my knuckles, waiting for her to go through that crazy shit in her head.

“November 12th.”

I about broke the little phone getting it out of my pocket.  It was the 7th. “Son of a Bitch! So where do we look for her? It’s not like we can get ol’ Wheels to hook up to Cebero. Believe me. I tried to find her.”

“Ah. The Fräulein has perhaps listened a little too well to your tracking lessons, yes?” Kurt’s tail swished from side to side, like a particularly frazzled cat’s. “Still, we haff to perhaps put the word out to some of the other safehouses, other freundlich mutants.”

“I do not know how much help that would be. She completely ran away once, and that was when she was much younger. Oh my stars and garters, our Rogue ,might not know about that damnable cure!” The furball’s eyes widen behind his glasses.

“I think we’re missing something here. Logan- did you ask her friends to make sure they hadn’t contacted her? As I said, I received an email six weeks or so ago, but surely she wouldn’t have just completely ignored her friends?”

The idea that not so long ago I would have been one of those friends absolutely fucking guts me. I start prowling around the room again, and barely acknowledge ‘Ro when she gently suggests that maybe I would be more comfortable outside. Translation: I’m scaring the shit out of our guest so make yourself scarce for awhile.

Escaping back outside is a relief. Kids scatter when they see my face as I stalk down the hallway, almost running outside. The cold air is a slight shock to my body as I slide into my fighting stance. Granted, chopping firewood probably wasn’t what Stryker had in mind when he remade me, but the adamantium was pretty fucking effective.  

I can’t say how long I was out there. There’s a pretty impressive stack of wood to my left through.  I stop for a minute, wiping my hand across my forehead. I smell beer and Jubilee and almost grin. I hold out my hand and she hands me the cold beer.  She really is a good kid.

“Dayum, boss. You look like a lumberjack porno or something.”

I choke. I think if I could actually smell arousal on her I might have started running, but she’s more worried and nervous than anything. She flashes me her trademark grin and I finish my beer, stretching a little so that my muscles don’t stiffen on me.

“Nice. You’ve got a dirty mind.”

“Course I do! But.. actually there’s something else that I want to tell you. I’ve wanted to, but.. she made me promise not to only I’m kind of worried that she’s gonna do something stupid.” Jubilee froze in mid sentence, her eyes widening as she stared at me. Prudently she took a few steps back. I try to tone it down. The only other time she’d seen me in full-on Wolverine mode was when she tried to sneak in the mansion all bruised and bloodied after a date had gone wrong. I’m such a fucking idiot. Of course Marie would tell Jubilee where she’d gone. Those two had been practically joined at the hip.

“I seem to to recall a conversation we had...”

The girl winced. She looks miserable. Even the yellow she’s wearing seems to droop.  “I know,” she whispered. “I wanted to tell you.”

I nodded.  She had tried to talk to me several times over the past few days. Obviously I had my head too far up my ass to put two and two together.  We walked a few steps to the wood pile and she leaned against it, still looking at the ground. “It’s just that she’s gonna be wicked pissed when she finds out that I told you. But I don’t know what to do! She’s acting like an idiot!”

“Look, kid. If you know where she is, I.. I really need to know.”

Jubilee sighed.  “Okay so, you know that she was in a pretty rough spot, right? I thought it was Bobby and Kitty that had really messed her up, but she says that wasn’t why she had to leave. She won’t tell me exactly why either, which is damn annoying. So I thought it was that stupid cure thing.  She was so happy, boss. I mean, for a second her whole face looked like it was Christmas and her birthday at the same time.  I think you were down in the lab with Ms. Grey and  she just couldn’t wait to tell you.  She like took off down to the sublevel and boom. The next thing she was ... I don’t know. Brittle. So sad. I know we were all hit hard when the Professor and Mr. Summers were killed, but... she had just seemed so happy. Excited that she could be normal.”

I winced.  Thanks to the Iceprick I knew what she had seen. I had very carefully ignored what ‘Ro and the Furball had told me about Jean controlling my mind.  It seemed much too pat to say I had acted out of character with her.  I had wanted to make her feel better about Scooter, and had been more than willing to let my dick do the work.  Her being back had messed with my head, sure... but I can’t say that I wouldn’t have finished what we’d started if I had had a chance.

The thing that I was having trouble with was the fact that Marie had seen me. I felt... bad about it. Guilty. I felt like I had really fucked up, and believe you me that was not a normal reaction. I couldn’t figure out why either. Why was this such a big deal? Why could I not stop thinking about it?

“So I send her an email, right? She said she was okay and I didn’t think much about it. Then... like she doesn’t talk to me for almost a week and a half! And when she does, all of the sudden she’s freaking out over this Remy guy, and he’s hot don’t get me wrong, but it’s like. Okay I’ve done some stupid stuff, you know,  boss? Stuff that would make my ma cringe or whale my ass if she knew. But Marie’s not like that. I’m all for her having fun and all, but it feels like she’s forcing it.”

I hear the rest through kind of a high-pitch whine in my head.  Jubilee moves quicker than anything I’ve ever seen her do before, bringing up her fireworks and knocking me on my ass before I can fully process that she moved.  She stares down at me.  I blink up at her.  

“You.. You looked like...” She stuttered, still shocked.

“Er.”

“Boss? Um. Wolvie, man? You really have got to take a couple of steps back from this protective thing you have  going for her. For a second you almost seemed...”

My mind wasn’t moving too quickly. Part of me was ashamed that I over-reacted, and part of me was proud that she had gotten the drop on me. Maybe that’s why her words weren’t making any sense. “What?” I hauled myself up to my feet. For a second I thought I saw her give me a really strange look but by the time I dusted my ass off she had her face perfectly blanked, although her eyes were still wide. “Sorry. It’s been a strange day. If you know where she is though...”

“I don’t. I wish I did.” I can smell no lie on her. “But if she emails me again, do you want me to text you?”

I made a face. I hate those fucking things.  But I nod. I goad her lazy ass into helping me move the firewood to the side of the garage, and the next hour or so passes normally enough that I can forget that I almost gutted the poor kid for telling me that Marie had a boyfriend.

Several hours later found me staring out my window again. I feel completely useless, and don’t fucking much like the feeling. It’s not that the Geeks don’t want to find her- it’s just that there’s no way for us to do it. Kurt was right. She had done a really bang-up job of covering up her tracks. ‘Ro was muttering under breath about how much they had counted on the Professor’s ability to find who they wanted, whenever they wanted. From a strategic standpoint- it was probably a good thing that that metallic fucker was out of commission since we weren't exactly operating at optimal levels.  

There was shit I could be doing.  My lesson plans were more lectures than that that book crap, but I still had to make sure I was meeting the state standards and to my everlasting regret that took time.   I accidentally made some of the littler kids puke when I told them about World War II. I guess I really brought history to life. Plus the fact that I made them run a half-mile for every test question they missed might have helped. It helped that I could smell whether or not the little shits actually knew the answer.  I also had Danger Room sessions to design, and I was pretty sure it was my week for dish duty.

Yeah. Not feelin’ it. Just staring out the window, keeping my mind as close to blank as I could was much more my speed.

I had actually almost dozed off when my phone rang. I thought about ignoring it, then remembered it could be Jubilee and grunted as I hauled my weight up to go get my phone off of the nightstand.

Now, I don’t claim to be psychic or any of that frufru bullshit. But when I heard the ring I just knew. If I had more of a poetic soul, I’d probably say something like she felt my worry from wherever she was and wanted to talk to me.  It had to be.  I stared at my phone like a complete and utter dumbass before I realized that I had just about missed the call. I heard the plastic creak when I hit the call button.

“Hey, Sugah.”

I had about two seconds of pure relief as my eyes slid shut with thanks before total and absolute fury took over. “Where the fucking  motherfuck are you?!” The words were so low in my throat that for a second I wasn’t sure if I just growled them or not.

“Oh dear. I suppose I should have expected a certain degree of bloody awkwardness.”

“Awkward? Why should anything be awkward? You just took off!”  I was so pissed off that it took a few minutes for my brain to catch up to not what was being said, but how it was being said.

“Logan, I am afraid I need your assistance and I don’t have a lot of time for your customary reaction to things that you cannot control. Let me just say this: I will need a little bit of time and quite a bit of luck, but if you do not cease this absurd growling I will do my best to make sure you spend the rest of your days under the belief that you are a six-year old girl.”

I almost drop the fucking phone.

“Professor?!

“Indeed. Now listen quickly. As you have no doubt surmised, I am linked with Rogue. It is a terribly long story, but I do not have much time. We are in Kremling, Colorado, near Denver. It appears that someone, or someones are violently opposed to Rogue’s continued existence.  She absolutely refused to contact the mansion for assistance. I am taking quite a lot of effort to hide this conversation from her mind, so be aware that when you arrive she will not know that I called you here on her behalf. Now shut your mouth and get a move on.” He paused and I shut my mouth. Marie’s voice bouncing from proper British poshness to the deep southern twang I lo---.

“Sugah.”

Now that was just fucking creepy.

 


 

TBC! 

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