Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

All Fall Down

Title: Alter-Eighteen: All Fall Down

Author: Terri

E-mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com

Rating: NC-17 for violence, dark themes, and gore

Warning: Character deaths. Lots of 'em. Don't read the comments below if you don't want any clues as to who.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but by now, they might own me..

Archive: WFRA, Peep Hut, Mutual Admiration. Anyone else, please ask and I'll
say yes.

Feedback: Please! Although it will probably just encourage me if it's good.All varieties, good, bad, and ugly welcome.

Summary: Alternative version of events in the movie and eighteen series. Logan lands at the mansion and starts teaching self-defense. Rogue gets a chance to put his lessons to the test.

Comments: Keli is responsible for this plot bunny. And, as she has vociferously reminded me, I haven't been writing her bunnies much lately. The original bunny was that the mansion is attacked, and everybody dies (hence the original title, above, one that I thought fit how it ended up as well). I just haven't been able to kill off Logan or Rogue in a fic before, and I couldn't do it here either. My brain has been bouncing all over the place lately, and the spots of humor and really icky gore you see here are probably the product of that. Sorry, dudes. And bonus points to Lateo for introducing me to the phrase 'red menace,' used to describe Jean here.

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"Rogue? Rogue?" The burly, cranky, hairy self-defense teacher known as Wolverine leaned down over his student. He was new here, and frankly, hated teaching, but he didn't mind this particular girl too much. She was pretty much the only student he *wasn't* actually trying to injure, and he hoped she wasn't seriously hurt. "Say somethin' if you're OK, dammit."

"I'm OK." The girl rolled to her side and began to slowly get to her knees.

"I toldya to keep an eye on that door, didn't I?" The girl nodded in response to the brusque query. "So why the hell didn't you do what I toldya to?"

"Got distracted by Jubes." Rogue grabbed her ribs - the Wolverine had juggernauted into them full speed, burying his metal-enhanced shoulder in her side and effectively taking her out of the simulated fight.

"Yeah, well it was her own fault she got in trouble. She wasn't payin' attention." His dark gaze shifted to Jubilee, who let out a soft 'yipe!' before her eyes darted to the floor. "Don't go gettin' yourself killed 'cause one of your team members is bein' a dumbass. That's on them, not you."

"But isn't that what a team does, look out for each other?" Rogue was still clenching her side but was slowly rising to her feet. "And don't we all do stupid things once in a while?" She was the only one who had ever questioned the Wolverine in the three weeks he'd been teaching. The first time she'd asked a question, he'd stalked over to her, putting his face inches away from hers, and giving her the worst stink-eye she'd ever seen. Her eyes got big and she trembled a little, but she held her ground, and he answered the question, eventually. Anyone else who tried it got twenty laps around the mile long track. Outdoors. In February.

"You gotta look out for yourself first. You ain't gonna be able to help no one if you're dead." Rogue grimaced - whether it was because his answer made a little more sense that she'd have liked or whether it was her injury, Wolverine couldn't tell. "And yeah, everybody fucks up once in a while. Except me. I'm the best at what I do. If you're lucky, a little fuck up don't make you dead, but how lucky have you been in your life so far?" He'd meant it as a rhetorical question, and maybe even hoped to prompt one of the girl's open smiles with it, but she seemed to be seriously considering his words.

"I've been pretty lucky, I guess," she answered, rubbing at her side and wincing a little. "But I see what you're saying. I couldn't have helped Jubes after I went down."

"Damn right. And the rest of ya might as well learn that lesson right now too. Keep your mind on savin' your own ass first. Got it?"

"Got it, sir," the rest of the class answered in unison.

"Good. That's enough for today. Class dismissed." Most of the students scurried out as quickly as possible. Jubilee and Kitty hesitated, heading for Rogue, but they turned tail when they saw that Wolverine was going to speak with her. Both girls had been on the receiving end of the aforementioned twenty laps on more than one occasion and neither wanted another tour of the track at the moment. They scattered too, following the others out of the danger room and up toward the lower levels.

"Look, uh, what you did, it wasn't too bright." Wolverine seemed to be looking Rogue over, checking the damage he'd inflicted. "But I didn't mean to hit ya that hard."

"Well, I don't think they're broken, but they hurt like heck." She was still rubbing at her side and grimacing.

"Sorry." She looked up at him as he voiced the apology, knowing that he meant it.

"It's OK," she said with a slight smile. "I bet I'll never turn my back on an open door again." His expression lightened at that - not exactly with a smile, but his trademark glare had vanished altogether.

"You oughta go see Jeannie. Have her take a look to make sure I didn't break anythin'."

"OK. I really don't think you did. Probably just some bruises. See you later." With that, she began walking slowly and gingerly out of the danger room. Wolverine watched her go, concern evident on his features. He waited until she was out of sight and he could no longer smell her, then he began packing up the equipment he'd used for the class. Goddamn kids, he thought, how'd I ever get mixed up in all this?

"Ooooh! We were worried, girl! Are you OK? Scary Hairy didn't, like, break anything, did he?" Jubes greeted her returning roommate by squealing her concerns at a pitch best suited for sports whistles and some dogs. Small, yippy dogs.

"No, Dr. Grey said nothing's broken, just some bad bruises. I'm fine. I just have to take it easy for a few weeks."

"What? No more self-defense class?" Kitty, while inquiring at a much less ear-shattering pitch, had just as much exuberance.

"I still have to go, but Mr. Summers said that he was going to personally talk to Wolverine to make sure he, and I quote, 'stops this unacceptable method of instruction at once.'" Rogue sat on her bed, then laid herself out flat.

"Heh. That sounds like something stick-up-his-butt Summers would say." Jubilee had nicknames for all the teachers. In addition to Wolverine and Scott, she'd christened Storm the 'weather witch' and Jean the 'red menace.' The Professor and Hank made out a little better - they were the 'head honcho' and 'big blue,' respectively.

"Well, I don't know what I'm going to be doing if I can't really do the exercises for a while."

"I bet Scary Hairy has plans for you," Kitty taunted.

"Yeah," Jubilee chimed in, "You're the teacher's pet. He loooooves you. He wants to marry you. He wants you to have his babies. Just think - your tummy could be full of little scary hairys!"

"Jubes," Rogue warned. They had teased her about being the favorite for a while. "He's my teacher."

"But you turn eighteen next week, you'll be an adult, legally an adult. A legal adult ready to get busy with other legal adults." Kitty waggled her eyebrows to emphasize her point.

"The age of consent in New York is seventeen, Kit-Kat. I could legally be doing him right now." Rogue shifted a little uncomfortably on the bed, trying to find a position that didn't make her ribs ache. "Besides - there's the whole deadly skin thing. I'm not going to be having anybody's babies."

"I still say you go turkey baster on that one, chica. A couple little squirts and voila, you've got yourself a baby." Jubes bounced on the bed, not noticing Rogue's soft 'ouch' of protest. "And I still say you should go out with Remy. You've played enough hard-to-get, girl, it's time to let him get some!"

"Eeesh," was all Rogue could manage by way of reply. She didn't see what all the other girls saw in Remy. Sure, he was handsome. Who around the mansion wasn't? Sure, he was charming. Like any guy who wants to get into your pants. He just didn't *do* anything for Rogue, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why all the other girls swooned over him.

"Oh come on, don't you think he's sexy?" Kitty had been interested in Remy for some time. But he'd shown no reciprocal interest. He'd been pretty focused on Rogue.

"No, I honestly don't."

"So, what, you gotta have your man all gruff and burly? They don't do it for you unless they've got metal claws, is that it?" Some part of Rogue knew that Jubes was just playing, just teasing, but some part of her got angry. It wasn't right to make fun of his claws. He'd been experimented on, the professor had said, and the claws were implanted. That just wasn't the kind of thing that Rogue found appropriate to joke about.

"That's not nice," she said sternly as she rose from the bed, masking the discomfort her movement caused. "I'm going to head downstairs for a while."

"Aw, come on, girl, we're just joking," Kitty called, but Rogue was already through the doorway and headed for the stairs.

Rogue wandered out onto the back patio, intending to get some fresh air and peace and quiet. Sure, it was cold, well below freezing, in fact, but she always wore lots of layers of protective clothing anyway, and she loved to look up at the night sky. However, her peaceful evening escape was immediately marred by something hot falling directly on top of her head as she stepped through the sliding door and out onto the cement.

"Ouch!" She twirled around and brushed at her hair, shaking her head in an additional effort to stop the burning sensation and rid herself of whatever incendiary material had attacked her. She was still brushing at her head when she registered a quiet 'shit!' from somewhere above her. Finally satisfied that her head was no longer in danger of combusting, she glanced up. She didn't see anything for a moment, but then her peripheral vision caught Wolverine leaping down from one of the trees, holding a lit cigar in his mouth. "Was that you?"

"Yeah," he admitted somewhat sheepishly, removing the cigar. "I was sittin' up on the roof. Sorry."

"What is it with you? Does your calendar say this is 'leave a permanent scar somewhere on Rogue' day or something?"

She had said it good-naturedly, but he just stared at her blankly before replying with an earnest, "No."

She smiled a little to assure him that she *was* joking and he relaxed minutely. "Maybe my calendar says it's 'look before you leap' day and I just didn't look at it." She paused for a moment, then caught her own unintentional joke in the second half of that sentence. "Heh."

"You're, uh, not on fire or anythin', right?" He raised one eyebrow and looked at her as though he was looking for smoke or flames.

"No, no, I don't think so, but, uh, can you see the top of my head?" She took a few steps toward him to close the gap between them and tilted her head forward slightly. "Any burn marks or singed hair up there?"

"Hang on." Wolverine tucked the offending cigar into the corner of his mouth and grabbing her head in both hands. She flinched back immediately, with a look of unmitigated shock on her face. "What?"

"Bare hands. You - you have bare hands! Don't just grab my head like that - I could kill you!"

"You said to take a look at your head," he argued defensively. "I didn't get any skin. You got a lotta hair up there." He had an expression she'd never seen before on him, and for some reason she flashed back to Jubes' jokes about his claws.

"Sorry. Sorry. I freaked out a little. Sorry." She stepped back toward him and tilted her head down again. "Can you try looking again? Just, uh, be really careful, OK? I'm pretty sure there's no 'kill Wolverine on the back patio' day in my calendar." She couldn't see his face, but she hoped that the small joke lightened things up. She felt his hands on her head again a second after she finished speaking, but his touch was much more tentative this time.

"It looks OK. Maybe a singed hair or two."

When she felt him remove his hands, she slowly raised her head to look at him. Giving a small smile and meeting his eyes, she said, "Thanks."

He grunted in response and then asked, "You OK? Nothin' broken from before?"

"No, just some bruises. Um, Mr. Summers happened to be in the medlab when I went down and he was kind of upset it happened, though. I totally told him it wasn't your fault, but I think he's going to talk to you or something about it." She knew those two didn't get along, not at all, and she felt she owed Wolverine some kind of fair warning.

"Yeah, he already said somethin'. Pansy-ass. Dunno why the hell he asked me to teach you little monsters if I can't teach ya the right way." He said it easily, without thinking, but, he seemed to catch himself and added, "You know, uh, kids actin' like monsters. It's irritatin'."

She smiled gently. She hadn't taken offense. "Does this mean you're not going to be the one picking up that chemistry class that the Professor's thinking about trying to get out of?"

"Shit, what the hell would I know about chemistry?" He flicked an ash from the cigar, this time, following it down with his eyes to watch it land on the cement. "Ass-kickin' - yeah. Molecules and shit - no. I ain't too bright."

Rogue shrugged. "I don't think that's true. I'm - people always say I'm not that smart because I don't do well in school or on tests, but I kind of think I am anyway." She lowered herself gingerly to sit Indian-style on the cement, and was somewhat surprised when Wolverine copied her actions to sit next to her.

"You could use some more street smarts, kid." He scooted a little to more fully face her, and she mirrored his movements so she could see him as well.

"Well, that's what you're here to teach me. So that I can graduate in the spring and become a butt-kicking superhero just like you guys." She tilted her head to the side a little and let herself relax. The cement was cold, and the wind was picking up, but it felt good in a way - invigorating.

"You really thinkin' 'bout joinin' up, then?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've lived here for the past five years, you know, going to school, getting free room and board. I feel like I should give something back, like I should do something to repay the Professor."

"You didn't ask him to do all that. You don't owe him shit, the way I see it." When his comments were met with a shrug, Wolverine's expression turned serious. "Look, kid, it ain't like some movie. Bad shit happens, and there are some goddamn evil motherfuckers out there. They ain't gonna pull any punches. They ain't gonna fight fair." He took a long drag from the cigar while she watched. "Somethin' could happen. You could get hurt. Bad."

"Why do you do it?" She leaned forward a little as she asked, sensing that he was opening up a little.

"Wanna find the bastards who fucked with me and pay 'em back. Got the best chance of doin' that here." Rogue considered that for a few long moments, her eyebrows drawing together and her lips pressing against one another. "Besides," Wolverine continued when she didn't respond, "it's fightin' the good fight or some shit, right? Bein' on the right side."

"But you'd fight for the wrong side if it gave you a chance at revenge?" She didn't ask the question angrily, or in an accusatory tone. She really wanted to know.

"Probably." Wolverine took another puff from the cigar.

"Do you really think it's worth it? Revenge, I mean."

"Sure," he replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Hmmm." She looked away from him and up at the night sky.

"What?" He glanced at her up and down, fully aware that she wasn't watching him do it, fully aware that his glance lingered perhaps a little longer than it should have.

"Just thinking. There are all those stars up in the sky. Stars that were born a long time before we ever got here and that will be burning long after we're all dead, even you. Makes you wonder what's important, what's worthwhile, what's lasting."

"Not life. That's for damn sure. Life's cheap."

"Maybe so is revenge." She turned back to look at him and wasn't entirely surprised to find his expression holding a little anger. "Just a thought," she softened.

"It's not - it's not - hmph." He broke off in frustration and took a second to gather his thoughts. "It's not cheap. It's just the opposite. If - if I don't get revenge on 'em, that's somehow sayin' what they did to me was OK or wasn't important. That ain't true."

"No, it isn't true," Rogue agreed. "But I don't think letting something go and moving on necessarily means you think it was OK. Maybe all it means is that you're not going to give what happened any more of a hold over you than it already has. Maybe it means you're not going to let it take up another single second of your life."

Wolverine took another long drag on the cigar before responding. "I just ain't built like that, kid."

"Yeah, I kind of figured," she said lightly, then smiled. "Just thinking." They sat in silence for several long minutes, her staring up at the night sky and him gazing quizzically at her. She was a little surprised that he broke the silence.

"You know what's worthwhile? Trust. Findin' somebody to trust is a worthwhile thing. Maybe the only worthwhile thing." She turned her attention back to him and made an expression that encouraged him to continue. "All the other good stuff - love, loyalty, peace, happiness, all that shit - you have to have trust first, before any of the rest of it."

"I think you're right," she answered seriously. He nodded, and leaned back, feeling as though he'd carried off his contribution to the conversation. "But you know what? I can't think of anyone I trust. Not really. Not even after all this time living here. That's - that sucks."

It was Wolverine's turn to shrug as he extinguished the cigar against the cement. "Not so unusual. Never met anybody in the fifteen years of my life that I can remember that I'd say I trusted completely."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Dunno. I guess - I guess you get burned once bad enough, maybe you just can't do it no more. Maybe it's just used up or closed off or somethin' like that." He caught her looking at him very intently, hanging on his words, and it made him suddenly quite uncomfortable. "Shit, I dunno, Jeannie and Chuck - they're the head doctors, not me."

"But I think you're on to something there. If - if something happens - if the one person you trusted absolutely - if they let you down or betray you, I can see how that would happen." She didn't catch it, but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was being genuine, he could tell. Genuine conversation was a new thing for him, but he kind of liked this one. As long as she was being level with him, maybe he could be level with her too.

"Or if you just got fucked over by every single person you met. People you never met too. People who just grabbed ya and screwed with ya." Rogue nodded encouragement. "That shit fucks with ya, I don't care who you are, how much of a bad-ass. It fucks with ya."

"I'm just waiting. The truth is, I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for any one of them to just turn on me, just like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis. "If my mother and father could do it, who couldn't? If the people who are supposed to love you no matter what *can't*, who really would? I'm just waiting for them to show it."

"Yeah."

"God, that's terrible." Rogue shook her head, as though she were trying to shake herself out of it.

"Why? Keeps ya on your toes. Makes sure that people don't betray you again."

"Yeah, but it also keeps you away from people, apart from them. If you don't trust anybody, will anybody really trust you? Plus, you just - you should be able to trust people. OK, maybe not people generally. But shouldn't you be able to trust a few people, people close to you?"

Wolverine scooted around to squarely face her now. He was animated, caught up in the discussion. "That first question - the answer's yeah. People trust you even if you don't trust them. Why? Sometimes it's just 'cause they don't know no better. They've lived all their fuckin' lives in a little happy bubble and nothin' real bad has ever happened to 'em. Sometimes it's 'cause - well, 'cause you might be trustworthy even if you don't go around trustin' other people. You're not gonna screw somebody over, and people can see that. Just 'cause you don't trust 'em back don't change that. The second question - I dunno. I guess so. But I dunno how to do it." He flinched a little, almost imperceptibly, with the realization that he'd exposed himself to her a lot there. But she responded immediately to him.

"I don't know how to do it either." There was a surprised, almost frightened or panicked look on her face. "I don't know if I can even make myself try."

"Hmph."

She couldn't interpret what that meant, so she just continued. "But - but that means that we're screwed! I mean, I think you're right - without trust, none of the other good things follow. If we can't trust someone, we're not ever going to have those good things."

"Better to give it up than take a chance on gettin' hurt," he stated plainly, as though it were the final point, the end of the conversation.

"No - no, I don't think it is." She reached out a gloved hand and laid it on his arm. He looked down at it for a moment before looking at her. Now, she was the one animated with ideas. "It sucks - it sucks a lot to get hurt. Really a lot. But - that can't be all you want to know. Even if it just gets you more hurt, shouldn't you try to take a chance, shouldn't you try to do it just so you can know what the good things are, what they feel like? I think - I think you should. I think it could be worth it."

"Maybe." Wolverine took her gloved hand in his bare ones. It was a light, almost playful gesture. He turned her hand over in his a few times before speaking again. "You think a lot for such a little thing."

"Heh. Don't tell the rest of the teachers that. They'll expect me to get better grades." She smiled easily, and they both knew the time for serious conversation was over. Not because it got uncomfortable - they were just finished talking.

"Scooter said somethin' about you doin' special assignments in my class insteada the exercises until you heal up." Wolverine gently let go of her hand, then reached into his jacket for another cigar.

"Yeah - he said you'd make a lesson plan for that." She braced her hands against the cement beneath her and began to lever herself up.

"Uh, he did?"

"Uh-huh. Let me guess - my first special assignment is going to be to plan the rest of them?" She was standing now, smiling down at him.

"You're the smart one," he offered.

"Yeah, yeah." She gave him one final, brilliant smile then headed back toward the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye, kid," he called after her. He sat on the cold cement for a long time that night, thinking and looking up at the stars.

Rogue's peaceful sleep was interrupted by a loud crashing noise coming from downstairs. She'd been dreaming about her conversation with Wolverine out on the patio earlier, only this time she was kind of floating in the sky watching it all. She almost convinced herself that the crashing noise was a part of the dream, when she heard it again.

"Jubes?"

"Mmmph." That girl sleeps like the dead, Rogue thought.

"Rogue, did you hear something?" Kitty was waking, though. "I thought I heard - "

CRASH

That was unmistakably something, and now Rogue could hear voices and the sound of a fight.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know, Kitty, I - " Rogue was interrupted by a mental message from the Professor, ordering them to get out of the upstairs dormitory room, to run to the lower levels as quickly as possible. The Professor said that they were under attack by an unknown enemy, and that the x-men, the teachers, were engaging them in the lobby and on the grounds in back of the house. He suggested the interior staircase as the best route below. Rogue took a moment to take that all in, then leapt off the bed. "Come on, let's go."

"Wha?"

"Move it, Jubes, we're being attacked."

"Rogue? Was that the Prof. in my head? 'Cause - "

"Move it! We've got to go!" Rogue hustled Kitty and Jubilee out of the room and toward the staircase ahead of her. As she swung the door shut behind them, she heard heavy footsteps coming from the other end of the hall. There were stairs that led to the lobby that way, Rogue thought, trying to hold down the panic. They're coming for us.

She gave another shove to Kitty and Jubes and they all began to run toward the interior staircase. Rogue glanced back when they were about halfway there to see a man, covered in black head to toe, including a ski mask. The man carried a gun that Rogue identified as a semi-automatic assault rifle. She turned back toward the staircase for a moment, then stopped in her tracks. She knew that the man would fire, that she and Jubes and Kitty had no real way to combat the weapon. Kitty had a potential defense - she could try to escape by phasing - but she and Jubes were pretty much totally screwed. One phrase from Logan's class popped into her head - don't do what your enemy expects - and she took one last look at Jubes' and Kitty's retreating backs before turning to face the man.

She saw him taking a firing stance, the gun fully raised. He was ready to fire, and she was square in his sights. "Wait!" she called, and he paused momentarily. "I want to surrender! Don't shoot! I'm - I'm just a student! Please!" She took a few tentative steps toward him and raised her hands in supplication. "I'll go quietly. Please just don't shoot." She didn't dare look back to see if Kitty and Jubes kept going or not. She was pretty sure they had. She couldn't hear them breathing or moving at all.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back." She did as the man asked and heard him cautiously advancing on her. Kitty and Jubes were gone. "State your powers."

"Uh, ice. I c-can freeze things and make ice." She heard the man snort derisively at that and inwardly relaxed. That was the effect she had hoped for. She heard the man stop, probably a few feet directly behind her. She tried to stop shaking.

"Don't move." She nodded, not having to feign the nervousness behind it. She heard him move the gun around, but waited until she felt him touch her hand with his gloved one. She whirled quickly, slamming an elbow back into his ribs and stomping on his foot simultaneously. She heard his grunt of pain, and before it finished, she'd slammed a fist into his face, breaking his nose, and with her other hand, gripped the gun. He struggled, recovering from the surprise a little. She knew that advantage was ending and she had to get the gun. Using a move Wolverine had shown her, she leveraged her weight against his body, then firmly grabbed the gun with one hand while pivoting back and kicking at his knee, toppling him. She'd won the gun and wasted no time in firing on her enemy, striking him once squarely in the chest then once more in the head.

She almost lost it entirely right then and there. She knew she'd killed him, and even though her survival instincts and training had guided her actions, her mind and her heart were struggling with the outcome. Screams form the direction of the lobby - screams that she somehow knew were Wolverine's - caught her attention at that moment, though, and something inside her snapped into place.

Quickly checking the gun to see what ammunition remained and snagging an extra clip from the man she'd felled, she collected herself and crept toward the head of the staircase leading to the lobby. Thank God I took armaments as an elective, she thought, as she reached the clearing. Apparently, three of the dozen or so armed soldiers still alive were shooting Wolverine. He was still somehow standing, but the bullets definitely seemed to be having a cumulative effect - his head was a meaty, bloody mess, both eyes were mush, and blood was gushing from his neck. His torso and legs hadn't fared any better. Rogue took a breath to steady herself while another savage scream gurgled out of Logan's torn throat. "OK," she said to no one in particular. "There's just three of them. I can do this."

Taking one more breath and trying to steady her shaking arms, she raised the gun. None of the soldiers had spotted her, and she knew she'd get at least one clean, surprise shot. She concentrated on her target, vowing to make at least that one sure shot count. Holding her breath as she aimed, she finally pulled the trigger.

The shot was a good one - the soldier was struck in the head. He fell immediately, and the other two were still momentarily intent on firing on Logan. She swiftly readjusted her aim and got off a second shot, also striking the head of a soldier. That left one remaining, but he'd sighted her for sure - he was turning to face her - and she let out an involuntary gasp. She knew she had to shoot, knew it meant her life if she didn't, but she was somehow frozen. In the fraction of a second that she hesitated, the remaining soldier raised his weapon, and Rogue knew - just *knew* that he had her dead to rights.

What neither of them noticed, though, was that Logan had lurched toward the soldier, and in that instant that he would've fired, would've shot Rogue, Logan fell on top of him, saving her life and earning himself another full clip of bullets to his torso. Rogue, still frozen, watched in horror as the blood and meat blew out of Wolverine's back with each shot. Knowing he'd heal didn't make it easier to watch. When the soldier finally stopped firing and instead began to shift Wolverine's heavy frame off of him, Rogue snapped back into action. She quickly descended the stairs and shot at the squirming soldier, not caring at the moment if some of her shots struck Wolverine as well. She had to eliminate the last soldier. She had to do it.

When her gun began making a clicking instead of a booming sound, she realized she'd spent her ammo. Looking, really for the first conscious time, at the soldier, she realized she'd blown half of his head off. She took a deep breath and knelt in the pile of gore to take a look at Wolverine.

He moaned when she carefully put her hands in his hair and turned her face to him. She was well-covered in pajamas and socks, but she hadn't been sleeping in gloves. She'd need gloves to move Wolverine - he was one big raw, seeping wound at the moment. She decided on sliding the soldier's arms out from beneath Wolverine's body and taking his gloves. When she'd completed that, she loaded her spare clip into the rifle and slung it over her shoulder. With one final assessment of Wolverine's unmoving body, she set about the task of moving him to safety. She wasn't exactly sure where that would be - maybe the lower levels and God knows he can use a medlab right now - but she knew it wasn't the exposed lobby. She thought she heard the faint sounds of a helicopter in the distance. Whether it was some kind of help or the enemy's reinforcements, she didn't know and didn't intend to stick around to find out.

She grabbed Wolverine around the waist and hefted him into a fireman's carry. By the time she stood, successfully balancing his weight, she was crying from the pain her ribs were giving her. Resolutely telling herself to ignore it, she began her slow march toward the elevator. As she moved through the house, she began to hear sounds of the battle on the grounds in back. Scott's optic blasts striking some kind of targets could be heard, along with loud cracks of lightening. Storm, Rogue thought. It must be her. That would leave Jean, Hank, and the Professor to - wait!! Wait! The Professor, Rogue thought - duh!

She called out to him with her mind and began to panic at not receiving an immediate response. After a few seconds, though, she was able to relay the situation to him, and he sent her a terse response. She knew he was helping in the fight where he could, and so, at first, she thought he may have responded as he did because he was distracted. But when she repeated her thoughts to him and received the same answer, she knew she had a problem on her hands. He'd told her to leave Wolverine and run to the lower levels. He'd told her that the soldiers were trying to capture mutants for experimentation and that her powers were too dangerous to be used as a weapon of the government, or whoever these people were.

"Crap," she summarized. She couldn't find it in herself to follow the Professor's instructions. Even Wolverine's own remembered instructions to look out for herself first went unheeded. She plodded on, carrying him with her. It was something about their conversation on the patio, something about all those things he's said about trust, that wouldn't let her abandon him to the soldiers. Still, Rogue didn't exactly imagine herself to be brave. She thought that if she were set upon by another cadre of armed men, there was a better than average chance that she'd drop Wolverine and try to make a run for it. But now, there was a chance, a chance for both of them to make it, and something else Wolverine had said came back to her. He'd asked her if she'd been lucky in her life, and she'd said yes. It was true. She'd found this place, she'd kept herself alive on the road and on her own at twelve years old, and she had found friends despite the severity of her mutation. She *was* lucky, and she didn't mind pushing that luck a little if it meant saving Wolverine from the hands of the people who'd experimented on him before.

She was almost at the elevator. A few more steps. She could hear the battle out back clearly now, and it sounded like Scott and Storm were winning. Finally reaching her destination, she feverishly pressed the button. Lots of tears were flowing now, and the pain was beginning to become much worse. She'd felt two or three 'pops' in her side as she carried Wolverine, and was sure that some ribs had cracked under the strain.

The button lit up. She heard the elevator gears moving. Hurry, she thought, please hurry. After what seemed like an endless wait, the doors opened and she stepped inside, collapsing to her knees and trying to ease Logan to the floor as gently as possible. She heaved a sigh of relief as the doors closed and they began moving downward.

"sssssttttt....." He was healing remarkably well. His eyes were back, and the bleeding had stopped for the most part. At least nothing was gushing out blood any more.

"Don't try to talk. We're going to be OK. We're going to make it to the lower levels."

"ttttoppppvaatrrrrr!" That was urgent, frantic, and somehow Rogue knew it wasn't coming from a hallucination or anything like that. She knew she needed to understand it, that it was imperative.

"Say again?" The first part could be 'stop', but -

"Vaatttrrrrr!" Elevator. He meant stop the elevator. Immediately, she lunged for the emergency stop button

"What's going on?" She was scared now, really scared.

"Chh......chuck." His hazel eyes met hers imploringly. "Not. Trrrsssss....."

"Don't trust the Professor? What's wrong? What happened?"

"Dnnnoo.......but......set meeee......"

"He set you up? Are you saying he set you up?" Wolverine nodded, then gulped in a deep breath, relieved she finally understood. "Crap!" She couldn't imagine how that could possibly be, or why the Professor would do such a thing, but she knew it in her gut to be true. And that was another thing Wolverine had taught her - always trust your instincts. She moved to push the emergency stop button back in, then hesitated. They might run into more soldiers up top, and God knows what the hell they'd run into if they went to the lower levels as the Professor had wanted.

"Gggooooo.......rrrrnnnnn...." Wolverine jerkily motioned to the top button with his head, apparently thinking her chances of getting past any soldiers waiting up top were better than what they'd face below.

"Crap," she repeated. She couldn't stay where she was - they were effectively trapped in a box if anyone came for them. Bad things up, bad things down. There was just no safe choice.

"Go!" That came out in a sharp bark. Rogue ignored it for the moment and returned to thinking. If they could just hide here until he healed enough to walk, to fight a little, that would give them both a better chance.

"Look, how long until you heal, at least well enough to walk?" He gave her a stink-eye that rivaled even the one he gave when she first questioned him in class. "How long?" she demanded more firmly. "Minutes? Hours? What?" If the answer was in minutes, it might work. Hours - well, it wouldn't take either side hours to find them no matter who won.

"Go!"

"No! You tell me how long!"

"Ten. Twennneeee." He looked at her with pure, fiery frustration written across his healing face.

"Minutes?" she asked in relief. He didn't respond, except with more harsh looks, but she could already tell that his motion and speech were dramatically improving.

They sat in the elevator in silence, Wolverine trying to calm himself to reserve energy. After only a few minutes, the elevator jerked into motion on it's own. "Fuck," Wolverine uttered as he painfully and slowly began trying to pull himself to his feet. The elevator was moving down, and Rogue didn't know whether she was glad for that - at least she'd be facing people who were once her friends instead of enemies - or even more afraid. She helped Wolverine stand and stayed next to him as the elevator ground to a halt.

When the doors opened, neither one of them could have been prepared for what greeted them. The Professor, fallen to the floor, twitching. Jean at his side, one hand pressed to her head, and pain written across her features. Hank - bloodied and lying motionless on one of the lab cots. Kitty, Jubes, Bobby, St. John, many of the other students - all lying on the floor, motionless, most of them bleeding. "God," Rogue breathed. Wolverine's grip on her waist tightened.

"Wolverine - " Scott called from out of sight. "Are you - " He broke off as he appeared in their line of vision. "Rogue. Oh, thank God." His uniform was torn and scorched, badly, and he looked completely exhausted.

"What's going on?" It seemed like such a bland, common question, but it was all that Rogue could get out at the moment.

"They - they attacked the Professor with a telepath, enhanced by some kind of machine. He - he - before we figured it out, before we could find and destroy the device, he...." Scott trailed off as he looked at the fallen students behind him. "Thank God, thank God you're still alive."

It didn't really register with Rogue until she heard those words from Scott that the others were dead, all dead. She flashed back to pushing Jubilee and Kitty toward the stairs. My God, she thought, I wasn't saving their lives, I was pushing them toward their deaths. She shivered and leaned in to Wolverine. "Oh God," she sobbed.

"He tried. He tried to fight it, but......and it only works on telepaths, you know, so we....." Scott seemed lost, utterly lost..

"Are any of them left alive?" Wolverine asked.

"A few. Hank will live. They wanted a few of the students for experimentation." Scott rubbed his face. "I - I don't know. I don't know how we........."

"Remy?" Rogue asked, shaking visibly now.

"Alive. He's - he's helping Storm, upstairs. He's alive."

Rogue took in a deep breath and steadied herself. She looked up at Wolverine for a moment, meeting his eyes. She wasn't sure what she saw there, but she knew part of it was fury, part was relief, and part was sorrow. She took one more deep breath, then turned back to Scott. "What can we do to help?"

Three days later, the dead had been buried, the Professor was mostly recovered, and Rogue was waking up from her first sleep since the attack. She opened her eyes to see Wolverine sitting at the foot of her bed, drinking a beer. He'd been reluctant to let her out of his sight since the attack, and frankly, she was grateful for that. When she had caught sight of him following her or when he wordlessly sat beside her, all she could think about was him in that elevator, telling her to run even though he'd have been helpless without her. She didn't think about what it meant consciously, but it made her feel safer, and it made her want him to stay close to her.

"Hey," she greeted him as she shifted to sit up in bed. "Everything OK?"

"Been thinkin'." He hadn't turned to look at her, and he took another long swig from the bottle, almost as though he were working up his courage for something. "Gotta know somethin' from ya."

"OK..." Rogue was still a little groggy. She'd slept almost twelve hours and she was still stiff and achy.

"What were ya doin' when you came after me? When you shot those guards? Did you go lookin' for me or somethin'?" They hadn't talked about it at all since it had happened. Scott explained to Rogue how the Professor sent Wolverine into the trap, how the Professor broke through the telepathic control and spasmodically tried to help the x-men, how Jubilee and the others had died. But she and Wolverine hadn't talked about it at all between themselves.

"No. I was running for the lower levels, with Kitty and Jubilee. One of the soldiers came up the stairs with a gun. I shoved them - " A heaving sob took her by surprise, and she let the tears begin to fall freely. "I made them go downstairs." Wolverine turned to her then. "I thought - I thought I could buy them some time by distracting the guy. I didn't know........" She took a few moments to let the crying subside enough to permit her to go on. "Once I took care of him and got the gun, I heard the fighting in the lobby. I heard you scream and then I saw - I saw you, and I knew I could get at least one of them. I knew I could at least help you a little so I did."

Wolverine put the beer bottle on the floor and moved up the bed to sit beside her. She noticed for the first time that he was wearing gloves. He put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, crying in earnest now. "You learned good. You did good, kid." She just cried harder at that, and he frowned.

"I'm n-not - I'm not cut out to be an x-man. I was sc-scared. I can't take this, I can't. Everybody died. We won, but everybody died." Her arms came around him and she held him tightly to her as she sobbed. She felt him begin to stroke her hair, trying to calm her.

"I know. I know. It's gonna - " He had been about to say that it would be all right, but that somehow seemed pale and inadequate. And possibly not true. "I'm gonna look out for you from here on out." That was the most, the best he could offer to her now. "Do you remember that night out on the patio? Remember us talkin'?"

"Yeah," she whispered. That had been the last night - the last night she had her friends and her life as she'd known it for the past several years. She thought she'd probably always remember it. She'd always remember it very well.

He nodded solemnly, then took her head in both his hands, just as he had that night. He kissed the top of her head, once, gently, then laid her back on her small bed. She looked at him questioningly for a moment, then he nudged his knee between her legs, separating them, and she understood. Her mouth fell open in a small 'o' of surprise. She felt a large hand cup her breast and heard a soft growl emanating from his chest.

He didn't spend much time on preliminaries and got more passionate, more frantic as he went along. Rogue knew that at some point, her top had come off and that at some point he'd cut a small slit in her pajama bottoms and underwear, but she was still caught a little off-guard when she felt the pain and pressure of him entering her in one strong thrust. She gasped and he growled and pushed insistently into her again. Condom, she thought, he must've put on a condom and I didn't even notice. One of his gloved hands came up to tangle in her hair and her ribs began to ache a little as he pounded into her. He was spent before long, and when he was done, he looked at her, holding her eyes for a few seconds before sliding away from her and reaching for another condom.

The second time was just the same as the first-fast, passionate, and all in a blur for Rogue, but the third time was different. She let herself *feel* what he was doing to her, made herself pay attention to it instead of disconnecting and let herself enjoy it at least a little. This time, he lingered where she responded-firm caresses across her breasts, kissing and biting her face and cheeks through her hair, slow, deliberate thrusts that made her moan with pleasure. When she looked and smelled ready, Wolverine increased his pace, and began to growl. Half-snarling through ragged breaths, he encouraged her, "Come for me, come for me."

She did as he instructed, crying out loudly as she came and convulsing strongly around him. He was gripping her tightly, one hand cushioning the back of her head as she thrashed and one hand pinning her hips to the bed. He followed soon after her, this time not reaching for another condom as he rolled to his side. He simply stared at her for several long moments, watched as she tried to catch her breath and as her eyes blinked open and closed with exhaustion and satisfaction.

When she was breathing normally again, he ran a gloved hand across her face. "It's gonna be you and me, you understand?" She nodded and cuddled herself to his body. He let her lay her head on his chest, shifting her a little to make himself comfortable and to free one hand to lightly stroke her injured side. "You OK?" She nodded again, and clutched him a little tighter. "I don't really know much about all this. Sorry if-sorry if I was too rough with ya." She shook her head no against his chest, and he relaxed a little.

"Look," he continued, "I've been thinkin' about gettin' outta here and I'll take you with me if you wanna go. I know you're in school and shit, but I gotta go now. I got a place, way the hell up north. I'm gonna hole up there and I dunno if I'm comin' out, you know, ever. That's the deal. That's what I got. You can come if you wanna."

Rogue broke from him a little, tilting her head up to look him in the eye. "You're leaving the x-men?"

"Yeah." She took a moment to absorb that. Leaving the mansion wasn't something she'd ever really considered, even now, even knowing she didn't want to be on the team.

"They need us now."

"I can't stay no more. And I don't want you to stay either. When you shot those guys - I couldn't see or hear or barely move, but when I smelled ya and felt that guy movin' I jumped on him without even thinkin'. And all I thought while he was shootin' inta me was that at least it wasn't you he was shootin'. At least you were OK. I don't want you to stay here."

"What about revenge?"

His eyes darkened and he frowned. He took a long time to answer, and she simply waited while he thought it through. "Right then, when I knew you were there, I woulda traded it to keep you safe." He said it decisively, as though it were the final word on the matter, all he would ever say.

Rogue nodded her understanding, and tears began to creep down her cheeks. "I don't know what to do. I-I don't know."

"Trust me, Rogue." Wolverine squeezed her once, gently. "Trust me on this."

"Marie," she whispered. "My real name is Marie."

Wolverine hadn't been around long, but he had been there long enough to know that Rogue's real name was something of a legendary mystery at the school. When she'd come to the mansion at twelve, she'd refused to give any other name but Rogue. He knew it meant that she *was* trusting him, and he responded in kind. "Mine's Logan."

She drew in a long, shuddering breath. "OK," she answered timidly, "I'd like to go with you. Thank you."

Logan let out a breath of his own, and kissed the top of her head in gratitude. Right where my cigar ashes landed not so long ago, he reflected. But it seemed to be a lifetime ago now. "Marie?" His voice pulled her back from the edge of sleep. "We're leavin' in the mornin'."

"OK."

"You-you can't really be considering leaving." Scott stood in the doorway of Rogue's room, watching as they packed her things and trying to talk them out of going. Logan had told him first thing in the morning and by now, almost noon, Scott was running out of ways to try to convince them to stay. "We're at our lowest point. We need you, both of you. We need to rebuild the x-men and the school."

"No dice." Wolverine's responses had all been similarly succinct, and Rogue hadn't said much in reply at all.

Scott huffed in frustration as he watched Wolverine fold up Rogue's bedspread and put it into a duffel bag. "I won't let you take one of the cars."

"Yeah, you will. Fair enough payment for the fight." Rogue emerged from the bathroom, arms filled with a variety of bottles. Logan had told her that there weren't many conveniences where they were going, and definitely no hair conditioner. She cleaned out the shower and cupboard of all of her toiletries. She couldn't bear to move Kitty's or Jubes'.

"Rogue, please, reconsider," Scott pled, "You've-you've only known Wolverine three weeks and you can't-you're not eighteen yet, you can't go."

"My birthday is Wednesday. I'm going, Scott."

It was the first time she'd responded with something other than a shrug, so Scott took the opening. "We need you here. The remaining students-" He saw her flinch at that and changed tactics. "Jean and Storm and I, Hank and Remy, we all want you to stay. We all care about you very much, Rogue, please."

"I care about you too, but I'm going, Scott. I just can't-I just can't stay here now." The 'now' at least gave Scott a little hope. It caught Logan's attention to, and he spared a glance in Marie's direction before he resumed packing.

"Then, then just take some time away. Go-go on, take a few weeks or months or whatever you need. I understand, I do. But, Rogue, promise me you'll come back to us." Scott had said the words but both men froze in anticipation of her response.

Rogue let out a sigh. Irrationally, she wished she could go back to last week, just for a few minutes, just to soak up a little normalcy. Just to be a kid again. To be seventeen-year-old Rogue, whose favorite teacher was 'scary hairy' and whose friends were around to entertain her. Seventeen-year-old Rogue who'd never seen a battle outside the danger room, whose big dilemmas included whether to go to the mall or not, who'd never seen Wolverine's body blown into mush by a hail of bullets. She shook herself out of it. Time doesn't work that way, and there's no going back, she thought. Maybe it's not fair that everything in my whole life changed in the space of a few days, but I have to be seventeen-year-old Rogue now, the one that's Wolverine's lover and still scarred and sore from battle. The one that's seen death and dealt some out to the enemy. The one that makes big decisions like this. "I can't promise that, Scott. I've-Wolverine and I will have to decide that together." At least that came out in my mature grown-up voice, she thought, then smiled a little to herself. That was the first 'light' thought she'd had since the attack.

"Yeah," Wolverine concurred, and she broadened her smile and directed it at him for encouragement.

Scott ducked his head in disappointment. "Stay, at least until Wednesday, at least until your birthday."

"I'm sorry Scott. I-I appreciate everything you've all done for me. But I'm going." She crossed the room to dump the bottles in the bag, then zippered it shut. That was the last of it, they were ready to leave now.

"Are you going to say goodbye to the Professor?" She heard a soft growl from Logan, and shook her head in answer to Scott's question. "It would mean a lot to him if you could."

"Tell him-tell him I'm sorry. And thank him for everything good he's done for me." Her eyes felt hot and she knew she'd cry again.

"You could tell him that yourself," Scott gently pushed.

"I-I can't."

"OK," he finally conceded. "OK. Please-keep in touch. And be safe." He directed a look at Wolverine with that last sentence. It wasn't hard to tell that he didn't like the idea of Rogue leaving with him, being with him, but it also was easy to see that he had other matters on his mind, much bigger matters to deal with. He gave Rogue one last smile, then left.

"Uh, Marie?"

"Hmm?"

"You haven't said anythin' in a couple hundred kilometers." Her expression was sad, he thought, and he wondered if she was rethinking her decision to leave the mansion but was too afraid to tell him. The thought that he'd taken advantage of her when she was in a vulnerable spot had occurred to him more than once. She was young, and used to be his student, on top of all that had just happened.

"Oh. Sorry. Got lost in thought there for a while, I guess." She turned a little in her seat to face him.

He grunted in reply. What he wanted was to have her do her thinking out loud, like that night on the patio. That way, he'd know where she stood, what was going on inside her, and whether he was going to have to turn the Jeep around and take her back to Westchester.

"Where are we now?"

"Ontario. Be a while before we stop. Or-do you need anythin'? We could stop if you need somethin'."

"No, no." She crinkled her eyebrows together and frowned a little. "Logan, do you think there's a reason for everything? You know how people say that-everything happens for a reason. Do you think that's true?"

"No. Well, not a good reason. I'm sure every kinda shit that happens is for some sorta reason, but I don't believe that some good comes outta everythin' or that it's OK if shitty things happen if it's all part of some big master plan for the greater good, no." Listen to me, he thought, all those words gushing out because I'm so damn relieved she's talking again.

"I don't know what to believe. Kitty and Jubes and everyone that died-what reason could there be for that? What good is going to come out of that that could possibly balance their deaths?"

"None. And there's no reason, 'cept some rat bastard got it in his head to kill a buncha muties. It don't make no sense."

"So, does that mean-what? That there's no God, or that he can't help it when bad things happen, or that the universe isn't basically, you know, good?" He knew that she was looking at him intently now, even though he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"I never believed in God. Nice fairy tale, you know? There's this big guy up in heaven who loves you and shit. Thinkin' after you die, you're not just cold in the ground, you get to go have fun in God's heaven-if you've been good that is. Too much shit that don't jibe with what I know in my gut to be true-all those rules and regulations about sinnin' and confessin' and shit. I don't buy it. What the hell does God give a shit if you eat pork? He put fuckin' pigs on the planet, didn't he? Why make it a sin if you eat 'em? Or if you don't tell your sins to some priest? Or if you swear? God-I think that's just a buncha bullshit people tell each other, just somethin' they believe to make themselves not hafta think about dyin' or how shitty everythin' really is."

"But you're talking more about religion-the rules and regulations and principles people got together and decided to believe in. Maybe God is something different or beyond that."

"Well, that goes back to the other thing you said-what if he can't help it when shit goes wrong? Not just like this, when some person decides to screw you over. That's one thing, and people always go on about free will and shit. Maybe that's not God, maybe it's some asshole's free will that did that, and maybe it's even a good idea that God don't fuck with that free will, even if other people get killed 'cause of it. But a lotta other shit happens that ain't like that-hurricanes killin' people, accidents, birth defects, all kindsa shit. That ain't nobody's free will. That's just-that's just life. And either God can't stop it or don't wanna-and I'm not sure there's much of a damn difference between the two. I mean whatever way it is, we're still fucked." Marie didn't say anything in response. Logan knew she was thinking it through. "I don't mean to be a cold-hearted bastard, but that's the way I see it," he continued in a softer, less animated tone. "Even if it's there - I don't think the universe or God or whatever kinda higher power there might be is good. I just don't. Maybe they're not bad, maybe they aren't tryin' to fuck ya, but they sure as shit don't step in and help out when the shit hits the fan. If they can't, what the fuck good are they? If they won't, well, fuck 'em."

"I'd rather think it's 'can't.' Because even if someone can't help you, even if it's just the way it is and nothing can be done about it, it's a little comforting to know that's not the way they want it. It makes me feel better to think that they'd want to help, that they don't want bad things to happen. Maybe it still doesn't do me any more good beyond that, but maybe having that is something. Maybe having that at least tells you for sure what's right and wrong, what's good and bad."

It was Logan's turn to muse on her words, and she let him mull it over just as he had let her think it through. "I dunno about all that. I haven't thought on it too much. I can't make no sense outta what happened back there, none at all. I mean, I'm glad I got together with you, and I'm glad we're goin' up north together. But that's not-that's not somethin' good that balances out what happened. There's no way to make it right. There's no way to make it OK. Nothin' that will ever happen from here on out is gonna bring 'em back, make things just like they were before. I wish to hell it wasn't that way, but it is."

"Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe that's-maybe it's to make you realize how important what you do is and how special and precious the people around you are. Maybe that's why it can't be fixed or put right, just like that."

"Hard lesson."

"Yeah." She shook her head a little, then giggled unexpectedly. "It must be 'deep theological conversation' day on my calendar."

He let out a short bark of laughter at that. Internally, he responded, 'No, it's 'I'm happy as hell you're havin' deep thoughts insteada second thoughts' day.' But he just said, "Yeah," and laid a hand on her thigh. She smiled at him warmly before turning her gaze back out the window and lapsing back into a comfortable silence.