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Title: Alter-Eighteen:
Partners
Author:
Terri
Email: xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating:
NC-17
Summary:
Alternative version of events in the movie and the eighteen series. Loners
Logan and Rogue find that they make pretty good partners.
Archive:
Ask, and I'll say sure, why not?
Feedback:
Please? With whipped cream on top?
Author's
Notes: Remember how I said no more AUs for a while? The gods of fic heard
me and laughed. This one, again (don't they always?) hatched from a plot bunny
from my brbf who made the simple request for a scene featuring Rogue eating
ice cream in the eighteens that just posted a little while ago. Sorry, babe,
it didn't quite come to me that way - I couldn't think of a way to get them
some ice cream in the cabin. But look - bright side - more AU fic :)
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He'd come
to the mansion almost by accident. They'd been running a mission to rescue
mutants from black ops government experiments and he'd been there to kill
some of the men who'd experimented on him. When the Professor offered him
a place at the mansion while the files retrieved on the mission were decoded,
Scott didn't agree. Jean didn't agree. Storm kept silent, Remy argued, and
Hank logically presented the pros and cons. Rogue, as always, kept her own
counsel. Finally, the Professor won out, as he always did, and Logan came
to the mansion.
He didn't
mix well with others. He didn't offer to help out around the mansion. The
younger children were very afraid of him, and some of the older ones too.
Every day, he met with the Professor to go over what had been decoded so
far, and some days he worked out in the danger room. It wasn't a secret that
the Professor was trying to recruit him to the team. A mutant with his powers
and with his particular lack of qualms about combat could come in handy,
and even the Professor, who put all of his heart and soul and more than a
little of his money into achieving peace, knew that. Logan himself was noncommittal.
He was waiting to see what the files held, waiting to see if there was anyone
else that was going to need killing.
While he
waited, Hank and Jean ran tests on him, to tell him as much as they could
about what had been done to his body. There was metal in there, grafted to
his entire skeleton - which accounted for his weight and his inability to
swim - and claws. He'd known about the claws, of course, but not how they'd
been put there, and not that they operated by a very sensitive hydraulic mechanism
that was hard-wired into the nerves in his arms. Hank expressed a kind of
cold rage, and Jean told him how sorry she was and how much she wanted to
help him sort his life out.
He'd been
there about a week when Jean approached him in the kitchen. She said she
wanted to talk, that he'd feel better if he could share his feelings. He
said he'd feel better if he fucked her, and after acting shocked for a few
seconds, she touched him. She dug her nails into his shoulders, then kissed
him hard on the mouth. He growled and pulled her hair, walking her backwards
until she ran into the wall of the pantry. In just a few minutes, he was
taking off his clothes and she was begging him to take her. He did, and when
it was all over, the only words Jean had said were "harder" and "please"
and the only words he'd said were "shut up." It would leave Jean with bruises
on her back, bruises that she would have to find a way to hide from Scott.
Jean came
to his room the next night, crying and saying they couldn't do it again. Logan
showed no reaction, just smoked his cigar and kept his eyes on the hockey
game. Jean said it shouldn't have happened, and that she was going to confess
to Scott. He shrugged. Jean said they couldn't do it again, and he grunted
that she'd already said that and he heard her the first time. Then she sat
down next to him on his bed, and put her hand on his thigh. She said she
was sorry, really, really sorry. He said she was horny and she should either
get on her back and let him fuck her again or get out. So she laid down on
the bed, and, although there were no bruises on her back this time, there
were more noticeable ones around her shoulders where he'd grabbed her to
hold her down. Ones she wouldn't be able to hide from Scott. After it was
over, she left, crying again.
The next
night it was Scott, not Jean, that showed up at Logan's door. He accused Logan
of screwing around with his wife and Logan didn't deny it. Scott said that
Logan had hurt her, that he was no better than an animal. Logan didn't deny
it. Scott said that he should be thrown out on his ass and that if he ever
laid a hand on Jean again, he'd regret it. Logan said nothing. Scott left
then, leaving Logan's door open. A few seconds after the echoes of Scott's
footsteps died down, Rogue passed by Logan's open door. She glanced at him,
barely, then, catching his eye, she smiled a little, sadly, and shut his door.
The third
night, it was Jean again. She said she came to apologize for Scott, that
it was really all her fault and that they wouldn't be kicking Logan out,
the Professor said so. Logan asked whether she was going to fuck him that
night or not, and she hesitated a moment before getting up off the bed. She
said she loved Scott, and those were the last words Jean spoke to him that
didn't involve a mission or work. She left, closing his door behind her this
time.
The fourth
night, the call came for a mission. A mutant named Magneto ripping up a fancy
soiree at a big office building in D.C. Logan went along, mostly because
he could do with a good fight. Scott seethed, but the Professor said to let
him go. He was partnered with Rogue, who usually went alone. She smiled at
little at Logan when Scott told him that, and again when he sat down in the
empty seat next to her in the plane. He didn't smile back or say anything
to her.
When they
landed, there was no fight in progress. Magneto had disarmed the law enforcement
officials sent to stop him, and was in the process of giving the assembled
crowd some lecture on mutant superiority. Scott laid the plan out, giving
he and Jean the front entrance and Logan and Rogue the back. Ororo and Remy
were to cover the rest of them and assist people out of the building.
Logan ran
ahead of Rogue, reaching the designated spot a full fifteen seconds before
her. "Wait for the signal," she reminded him as she crouched down beside him.
Logan put his claws out, ready to go. When the signal - an optic blast from
Scott putting Magneto down - came, Logan launched into the crowd. Finding
Sabretooth, he got his good fight early in the evening. He completely lost
track of Rogue, but figured she could hold her own if she usually worked alone.
He knew she had lethal skin, super strength, and the ability to fly. She
didn't seem like the kind of person who needed help.
So it was
with more than a little surprise that he heard a scream that sounded like
it could've come from her. Losing Sabretooth for a moment by throwing him
out a second story window, Logan looked around for her. Magneto - the old
guy - had her pinned to a wall with a metal table. One of the legs went right
through her torso. His powers must have been stronger than hers, Logan thought
- she couldn't pry that table off her.
Logan made
for Magneto before Rogue drew another breath to scream. But before he could
get there, Magneto noticed him - he wasn't one for a subtle, sneaky approach
- and froze him in place. Cursing his own stupidity - how could he have forgotten
that he was mostly metal inside? - Logan hung suspended in the air, completely
at Magneto's mercy. But Rogue had stopped screaming. The break in Magneto's
attention was enough to drop the table that had pinned her. The silence lasted
only a few seconds; soon it was Logan who provided the screams as Magneto
bent his body back, folding his spine in half as though it were made of paper.
Holding him in that position. Forcing his extended claws apart, breaking
bones and spilling blood. Listening to his screams.
Jean telepathically
broadcast the signal to get out; the building was collapsing. Magneto had
set a bomb that caused structural damage. They only had seconds. Rogue sent
the situation with Magneto telepathically back to Jean. Jean told her to
leave, Logan would either be OK or he wouldn't. She said it was an order.
Rogue was never a stickler for following orders, and even though she'd never
worked with a partner before, she was pretty sure that this was one of those
times that you didn't leave your partner behind. Luckily for them both, Rogue,
unlike Logan, she could be subtle and sneaky when she needed to be. Magneto
never felt her touch until it was too late, until she'd drained him nearly
to the point of death.
Logan dropped
like a stone to the floor, still bent backwards and screaming. His claws
wouldn't go back in; Rogue could tell he was trying but the metal had been
bent too badly. The entire building was in motion - shaking, heaving, dying.
They had to get out now. Rogue grabbed Logan, picking him up and trying to
be gentle, trying to avoid unnecessary pain. Flying the both of them out of
the now-rapidly-crumbling building, and to the expanse of a well-groomed lawn
in the park nearby, Rogue gingerly laid Logan down on the ground.
"I - I still
have enough of his powers. Hang on. This is going to hurt a lot." She paused,
then, with sad eyes, she said, "I'm sorry." Concentrating, she reached into
herself for Magneto's power, harnessing it to unbend Logan's spine and claws.
She was unfamiliar with it, clumsy, and it took minutes, instead of the seconds
that Magneto had needed. Agonizing minutes. But in the end, she did it, and
Logan collapsed in a heap on the ground, in a shape reasonably resembling
that which nature intended.
"Are you
all right? Logan?" She seemed like a disembodied voice then - all he could
see, hear, taste, or feel was pain.
"Yeah."
He wasn't all right, but he was healing. The metal was approximately where
it should be.
"Come on,
let's get out of here." She cradled him in her arms like a child, flying him
up and toward the others. As he looked down at the ground whizzing beneath
them, he thought for the first time about her. He knew she didn't heal, and
she'd had a thick chunk of metal put right through her. Now that he was coming
back to himself again, he could smell her blood.
"You're
hurt." Looking up at her, he saw a face covered in dirt and tears, twisted
by a tight and determined grimace.
"I'll make
it."
"Put us
down." She was burning too much energy, flying them like this. She wouldn't
make it, and they'd both drop.
"I can make
it."
"No. I'm
healed. I can walk. Put us down." He reached to turn her face to his, thinking
she wasn't processing his words, and both saw and felt her flinch back immediately.
"My skin."
"Sorry.
Forgot." She set them down and they reversed positions, him carrying her
the last few hundred yards to the blackbird.
"Rogue, are
you all right?" Jean headed toward her, telekinetically moving her out of
Logan's grasp and into the plane, then following behind.
"Fine. Got
a metal bar though my gut thanks to Magneto." Her eyes stayed with Logan and
for a moment, he thought she might reach out toward him.
"This is
- Rogue, this is serious. Scott, we have to hurry." Jean's voice was tense,
almost panicked. She double gloved to begin work on Rogue.
"Check Logan."
Rogue's eyes still hadn't strayed from him. "He got his skeleton bent. Magneto
did it. I think I fixed it but - " A sharp gasp cut her words off. Jean was
probing around the wound - carefully, but it still elicited a stab of pain.
"It's fixed.
I'm fine." Logan moved closer to Rogue, almost unconsciously. "You're hurt
bad, kid. Just stay still." He got his first good look at her injuries, and
began wondering just why the hell she wasn't screaming in pain right now.
"Are you
sure you're all right?" Shock, he thought, it had to be the shock from her
injuries - keeping the pain down, keeping her brain in some haze where she
only repeated her concern for him.
"I'm fine."
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Rogue ended
up spending a solid week in the infirmary. Hank tended to her for the most
part. She preferred Hank, chiefly because he was less worried about being
hurt by her skin than Jean. Not that she was offended - she was a pariah among
mutants, had been for a long time - but Jean's unease made accidents, ironically,
more likely. And, she had enough voices in her head already, without telepathy.
She'd rather be blue any day.
She went
back to her room at the end of the week with a firm order from Hank for three
more days of complete bedrest. On the second day, someone - not Hank, she
could tell by the knock - came to her door.
"Come in."
"Uh. Hey."
Logan. "You're OK, right?" He hung half in and half out of the doorway.
"Yeah. Fine.
Thanks - thanks for carrying me to the plane. And thanks for saving me from
Magneto. He had me pinned pretty good."
"Yeah. You
gonna be up and about again soon?" He looked her up and down, and she thought
he was looking for something, maybe some visible evidence that she was healing
up OK.
"A few more
days."
"Good." One
quick nod of his head, and the door closed behind him. Rogue found herself
wishing he'd stayed a little longer. She hadn't had any other visitors besides
Hank.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey." It
was her third day up and about. A late night trip to the kitchen for some
peanut butter chocolate ice cream was long overdue. She hadn't expected to
find Logan in the kitchen. He was antisocial by nature, moreso since the thing
with Jean. Rogue didn't quite know what to make of that. Scott had said that
he didn't just sleep with Jean, he'd hurt her too. Jean hadn't said anything
herself, one way or the other, but Rogue thought if that was true, if he'd
hurt her, that the Professor wouldn't have let Logan stay.
"Hey." Logan
seemed lost in thought, staring down at a plate full of fried chicken, loosely
holding a bottle of beer. His head turned upward at her greeting, though,
and she smiled at him a little, partly in apology for having interrupted his
thoughts.
"Midnight
snack?"
"Yeah. Guess
so."
"Mind if
I join you?" She guessed that he probably did, but she felt like company right
then. And maybe - well, maybe Logan would do. They were partners now, after
all.
She got
a grunt in reply that she interpreted as a yes. Going about the task of finding
and digging the ice cream out of the freezer, she attempted some conversation.
"You want any ice cream to go with that?"
"What kind?"
She'd half-expected another grunt.
"Peanut
butter chocolate."
"Nah. Don't
go with beer."
"There's
a kind of ice cream that does go with beer?" She turned and smiled at him
teasingly, hands still enveloped in the contents of the freezer.
"Vanilla."
"What, like
a float?" This was more conversation than she'd counted on from him, and
she was glad.
"A what?"
"Kind of
like a root beer float?" She brought the peanut butter chocolate, non-beer
compatible ice cream to the table and began digging into the carton with a
spoon.
"Never had
one of those."
"Hmm...it's
like a glass of root beer with a scoop of ice cream floating in it. Hence,
float."
"I ain't
stupid." That brought her head up.
"I know.
I just - I didn't -" He was starting to get up from the table, chicken and
beer forgotten. He looked unmistakably angry. "I'm sorry, Logan, wait. Wait.
I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I just - I didn't understand why
it was called a float when I was a kid, when someone first explained it to
me. That's all. I'm sorry."
"I ain't
a kid." Angry eyes, burning eyes.
"I know.
I'm sorry. Please - please sit down. I'll - I'll go. I only wanted a few
bites." She tried to smile but it didn't show up on her face quite like a
smile - more like a little twitch of her lips accompanied by big, saddening
eyes. There was also a shadow of an expression that told Logan that this
was somehow familiar. That she was used to leaving, used to making others
comfortable.
Logan didn't
sit but didn't go either. He just watched her intently as she put the lid
back on the carton and put the spoon in the sink. She met his eyes and gave
another not-quite-smile. "Sorry. I'll leave you alone."
She moved
past him, heading for the door. His arm on hers, staying her progress, made
her jump. "Stay. I'm bein' an asshole."
"N-no, no
you're not." He was only inches from her, and he was touching her - touching
her. No one touched her, not even over three or four layers of clothing. Not
ever.
"Yeah, I
am. Sit." He gently pushed her back toward the chair she'd occupied before.
"O-OK." Her
brain was still trying to cope with the fact that he'd touched her as she
sat numbly in the chair. "I'm sorry. Really, I didn't mean to imply that you
weren't smart."
"Didn't
say I was smart. Just said I wasn't stupid." He sat down too, tucking into
the chicken.
Not having
the slightest idea how to respond to that in a way which wouldn't make him
upset again, Rogue settled on a change of subject. "Are they making progress
on the files?"
"Some. Been
stuck on one that's pretty heavily encoded for the past five days or so.
Chuck says they'll get it eventually." That was the most he'd said to anybody,
the largest number of words, since he'd arrived at the mansion. Probably
since he'd woken up naked in the snow fifteen years ago.
"They will.
I hope you find what you're looking for." She said it sincerely, and it was
his turn to have no idea how to respond.
"You gonna
have more ice cream?"
"I guess
not. I don't feel like digging it out again." She looked a little longingly
at the freezer.
"Want some
chicken?" He shoved the plate between them. Rogue looked shocked for a split
second, then suppressed it. She didn't want him to take it the wrong way.
"Thanks.
I'll be careful not to touch you." She waited for his hand to lift from the
plate completely and settle back on his beer before reaching for a piece of
chicken.
"You're
wearin' gloves."
"Still makes
people nervous. Makes them nervous just to have me around."
He snorted
at that - almost in a laugh. "I know what you mean."
She did
laugh at that, and he found himself watching her eyes squint in mirth and
her lips curve and open to let out the laugh. "I guess that's why we're partners,
huh?"
"Partners?"
"You know,
on the team."
"Oh." He
didn't know what else he could've thought she was referring to.
"Want another
beer?" She was already rising to open the refrigerator door.
"Sure. Can
I ask you a question?" He'd been curious about something ever since he'd
heard what her mutation was.
"Go ahead."
"What's it
like to fly, you know, on your own?" He's always been afraid of heights but
it was a hell of a rush when she'd flown him away from that building. Once
he stopped feeling the searing pain of his injuries, once he had begun to
heal, he enjoyed their short trip quite a bit.
Her face
lit up at that. "I really like it. I like to go flying at night, especially.
It's really pretty to look down on the earth, then up at the sky as you fly.
I love it. It feels so free and so....I don't know - invigorating."
"Yeah." He
saw her hand reaching for another piece of chicken, and deliberately moved
to get some too. She was still thinking about flying, not really paying that
much attention, so she didn't notice until his hand brushed hers. She dropped
the chicken immediately and gasped.
"Oh my God,
are you all right?" He gave her a long, appraising look. "Logan?"
"You got
gloves on."
"Yeah, but
still....." She was flushed, stammering, chewing a little on her lips. Logan
felt something shift inside him as he watched her fumble for an explanation.
Something a little uncomfortable and a lot warm. Part of it was want. A lot
of it was want. But part of it wasn't, and he was curious.
"You havin'
that chicken?"
"Yeah, yeah,
I guess so." Now she was looking at him in wonder. That made the other part
surface more strongly. He began thinking about her then. Thinking about her
skin and her powers, but most of all, why it was easy to fight beside her,
to talk to her, even to sit with her. He started thinking about her a lot
then.
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It was three
days after their midnight meal that Logan decided to act on what he was thinking.
The first day, he'd left his room before noon - a rarity - and had happened
to run into her coming out of the art class that she taught. She smiled when
she saw him, and it made him think that she was the only person ever to have
that natural reaction to him. Even people who smiled at everybody - like
nuns or preschool teachers - didn't smile at him. While he was running all
this through his brain, she was making small talk with him, and he found
himself talking back. The second day, he'd deliberately gone to her room
in the evening, knowing she was in by smell. He'd knocked and said who it
was. She'd opened the door to him and had invited him in, motioning for him
to sit on the bed while she returned to a canvas that she'd been painting
on. She'd never asked what he wanted or why he came, just started making
small talk in that way of hers. He'd talked back again. The third day - he
decided. He went to her room again, again in the evening.
"Hey, Logan.
Come on in." He shut the door behind him, mentally calculating how to go
about it. He wasn't smart, that was certainly true. And he wasn't nice. That
was true more than anyone here at the mansion knew. And he wasn't a basically
good person, one that just did bad things sometimes and when they had no
other choice. He did what suited him. There was one thing, one way, he might
get her, though. One thing that might make her want to keep asking how he
was, keep making small talk and sharing her space with him. He just had to
do it a little differently than usual, a little differently than he had ever
done it before. And he had to not scare her off when he did it.
"Hey. Rogue
- " He caught her by the arm, gently, as she turned back to her still-in-progress
painting. Turning back to him with a smile, she didn't look alarmed or upset.
That was the final thing - he knew he could go ahead then. "I want you."
She looked
at him a little blankly, and for a moment, he thought she might not realize
what he'd just said or what he meant by it. But then, her features settled.
"My skin - "
"There're
ways around it. Let me show you. Let me have you." To illustrate his point,
he ran his gloved hand through her hair then opened his palm fully and caressed
her face. "I ain't afraid."
She sighed
and swayed into him a little. She was starving for touch. He'd been right.
This was the way. "I-I - "
"Get one
of your scarves - that one hangin' outta the dresser. Go on, get it." She
did as he asked, and brought it back to him. He could already smell the want
on her. "You ever been kissed?"
"N-no, not
really."
That pleased
him. He wasted no time, and did it through the scarf, almost gentle at first
but quickly growing passionate and insistent. Before long, he wasn't slow,
wasn't gentle at all, and neither was she. She moaned outright when his tongue
slid in her mouth, and in response, he began ripping at her clothes. Her
shirt, then her undershirt, then her bra, all divested in a matter of seconds.
The rest of her many layers of clothing followed until she stood naked before
him.
"Stand still.
Just for a minute." Logan pulled back to look at her. She didn't shrink from
his gaze. If she had any reservations or qualms about him, they were drowned
deep under her desire. For his part, he was simply fascinated by her naked
form.
"You've never
had sex, right?" He asked it far more gently than the words themselves conveyed.
She shook her head no. He'd learned a lot about her in the three days that
he'd been really paying attention, and one of the things he'd learned was
that she liked it when people were straight with her. He could do that. "It's
gonna hurt the first few times. I got an idea how to do it. You wanna?"
She nodded
yes, solemnly. "Th-thank you."
"Yeah. You
got - you got some pantyhose or somethin'?"
"Yeah."
"Get 'em.
But don't put 'em on yet."
"O-OK. These
- will these do?" Her favorite pair - black, very dark, almost opaque.
"Yeah. Lie
down on the bed."
"What are
you going to do?"
"I'm going
to make you come first."
"Oh." Her
eyes got very big.
"Relax.
It'll feel good. This part won't hurt at all."
"OK." She
made herself comfortable and watched as he floated the scarf over her breasts.
Touching first, then gently taking one, then the other, in his mouth, he
felt her begin to writhe a little beneath him. He took his time here, waited
until he could smell her becoming ready for his touch.
"Rogue? I'm
gonna touch you now. Open - open your legs, darlin'." He'd never used that
word, never used endearments of any kind, never had a reason to. But it seemed
to fit her - darling.
She did
as he asked, and as soon as his fingers met her flesh, she arched her back.
He didn't want to wait, didn't want to draw it out. Her body was going crazy
from the touches and he didn't want to deny it. One of the other things he'd
learned about her was that she didn't like to be roundabout, if she could
be direct instead. He focused on stroking her, using a firm, sure pressure
on her most sensitive spots. She soon lost all speech as she began to move
her hips in time with his fingers. Moans and grunts and sighs fell from her
lips as he brought her closer. Finally, she came, arms and legs flailing wildly,
screams replacing the softer sounds she'd made.
"Oooooooh....."
She fell still on the bed, and he didn't move his hand from her. He let her
lie there, floating in pleasure for a few long minutes. Watching her now,
heaving chest and lips still red from being kissed, he knew he couldn't wait
too much longer.
"Rogue?
Pantyhose?"
"Y-yeah..."
She reached for them, coordination still suffering from the intensity of her
climax. She snagged them on the third try and successfully put them on after
four tries. "Sorry."
"It's OK.
Lie back again." He put one hand on her stomach, gently pushing her down to
the mattress. He unbuckled his belt and removed his pants - no underwear -
to reveal an already full erection. "You ready, darlin'?" He saw her eyes
widen at his size. "It's gonna hurt some."
"It's OK.
I'm ready."
He nodded
and rolled a condom on. Positioning her legs around him, he carefully extended
one claw, just a few inches, and cut a slit in her pantyhose. She let out
a little gasp which was out of wonder and surprise, not fear. He almost-smiled
at that, then eased into her as slowly as he could. She didn't let out any
moans or gasps of pain, but she was looking at him intensely the whole time.
He tried not to look back, but her eyes, those big eyes, held his eventually.
When he was all the way in, he began to move, and it wasn't long before she
moved with him, calling out his name. He could feel her tensing again, and
held out until she came, letting himself go finally as she arched up powerfully
enough to lift them both off the bed for several long seconds.
He rolled
off her quickly, removing and disposing of the condom. She watched him in
wonder. He lay down beside her, and shifted her to lie on top of him, careful
of their exposed skin. He held her and stroked her hair. This was new to
him - he had done it differently - and part of why he held her so close was
that he didn't want her to see how much it was affecting him.
"Is it always
like that?" She sounded so innocent, asking that, he thought.
"No. It
doesn't hurt after a while."
"No, I mean,
does it always feel that good?"
That hit
a nerve in him. It was an opening, a chance, and he knew it. He suddenly rolled
them both over, so that he pinned her to the bed. "I can make it that good
for you all the time. I can." Hazel eyes burned into brown ones. "Is that
what you want?"
She didn't
answer. She reached her gloved hands up to caress his face, very tenderly.
"Logan, why?"
"I wanted
you."
"I thought
you wanted Jean, and - "
"I wanted
to fuck Jean. I want you. We're partners."
"But my
skin - "
"Stop fuckin'
worryin' about your skin." He didn't say it harshly, just with a hint of
exasperation. He was frankly quite amazed that everyone was so afraid of
her. Amazed, but glad, because it meant that he had a better shot at having
her for himself. He had no competition, not really, and the truth was, when
it came to things he really wanted, he didn't like having to fight for them.
"OK. I will."
"Again?"
"Yes. Please.
Logan?"
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
"OK."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They went
on like that for weeks, feverishly all over each other every night, many
afternoons, and a few mornings too. They didn't hide what they were doing
- but it was a testament to how removed from the rest of the mansion residents
they really were that no one really noticed. It wasn't until another mission
against Magneto that it became evident that something was going on between
them.
Somehow,
Magneto had taken Rogue by surprise during the fight. Whether he wanted revenge
for what she'd done to him before, or whether she was simply one more obstacle
in his way was anyone's guess. What was clear was that he sent a jagged chunk
of metal sailing right through her chest, nicking her heart. Scott saw it
coming, and took Magneto down with a blast only a split-second too late. As
she fell, her eyes found Logan across the room, and he quickly finished Mystique
and made for Rogue's still form.
There wasn't
much time for her left. She smiled a little when Logan came into her field
of vision, like she always did. She ground out, "Loved you," then closed her
eyes. Scott heard, and Jean too. They both momentarily forgot about Rogue
and turned shocked eyes to Logan.
Logan stripped
his gloves off frantically, and unhesitatingly gripped her face with his
bare hands. He wasn't sure exactly what would happen, but when it was clear
that nothing was happening, he picked her up, cradling her to him and pressing
his bare face to hers. The look on his face was unadulterated anguish, then,
as the pull finally started, as she finally began to take him in, it changed
to exquisitely satisfied pain.
Her eyes
flitted open, and she shoved him away from her violently. He dropped, and
began twitching spastically. "Jean! Help him!" Jean stood there, mouth hanging
open, for a few long seconds before Rogue's words registered. She moved then,
trying to check Logan's vitals. He suddenly stilled, and Rogue didn't move
or breathe at all for the few agonizing seconds it took for his body to finally
draw a breath again.
They took
them both back to the blackbird and immediately to the medlab. Logan's healing
factor appeared to be working, but very slowly. Rogue appeared to be completely
fine. CAT scans, EKGs, and a complete physical exam all indicated that her
heart was good as new. No evidence of the damage caused by Magneto remained.
She stayed
by Logan's bedside, waiting for him to regain consciousness. Scott came down
to talk to her after a few hours. He doesn't love you, Scott said. He's using
you. Look at what he did to Jean, Scott said. She had bruises all over her
back, all over her shoulders from how he treated her. Logan gets off on causing
pain, Scott said. Logan doesn't care about anyone but himself, Scott said.
Logan will hurt you in the end, I can promise you that, Scott said. Rogue
said, Go away. Scott said he wasn't going to let her make the same mistakes
as Jean. Rogue, in a voice Scott had only heard her use in battle before,
told him to fuck off, and the conversation was over.
Logan finally
opened his eyes after almost two days. The first thing he saw was Rogue,
and the first words out of his mouth were, "You OK?" She nodded and cried,
and carefully kissed the top of his head. He relaxed a little at that, and
reached out to touch her, his hand finding her stomach, right below her breasts.
It settled there, his thumb moving slowly back and forth until he fell back
into sleep.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next
day, Rogue saw Logan to her room - he'd long since moved in most of his things
- and put him in her bed. He insisted he was fine, but she and Hank insisted
on at least 24 hours of rest.
"You saved
my life, again. Thanks."
"You scared
the hell outta me. I thought you were gonna die right there."
"You made
sure I didn't."
"Hey - I
gotta know somethin'. You got me in your head now?"
"Yeah. You're
strong up there, very strong. You held on a long time." Logan looked down
at that.
"I was hopin'
that wouldn't happen, or at least that you wouldn't get that much of me."
He looked definitively upset. Like he'd just lost his best or only friend,
and he couldn't decide whether to be pissed about it or to just start drinking.
"I-I didn't
mean to. I didn't mean to invade your privacy or anything." She reached for
his hand and he moved it away. Something was wrong, very wrong.
"It's not
that."
"What then?
Logan?" She couldn't read him at all, and the part of him in her head was
hiding.
"I'll miss
you." He looked sad as he said it, purely and only sad, for the first time
since she'd known him. Something was wrong.
"What? What
are you talking about?"
"I'll go.
I'll be gone tomorrow." He grimaced, once.
"No - no
- "
"I can go
tonight." Another grimace, tighter this time.
"No - I
don't want you to go. I - I don't understand what's going on."
"You've
got me in your head."
"Yes...."
"So, you've
seen the things I did, what I'm really like." That was true. She'd absorbed
thousands of images from him - images of him cutting with the claws, hurting
and killing; images of him cage fighting, fighting for money; images of him
trapped underwater in a lab much like the one she'd helped to raid; images
of him with Jean, slamming her into the pantry wall; images of him looking
up at her as she flew them to safety; images of him frantically rushing to
her, pulling the metal from her heart.
"Yes....."
"I'll leave
now."
"No - Logan,
those things - you don't have to go. I don't want you to go. I - I understand.
I understand. I've seen you and I understand. Logan - you're not - you're
not bad. It's not - I don't want you to go. I want you to stay. Please."
He grabbed
her by both arms, squeezing tightly. "Stop it."
Now he wasn't
hiding in her head anymore. He was growling. But not scary growling. "I don't
want you to go."
"Rogue -
"
"Marie,"
she whispered. "My name is Marie." She felt his grip ease as his eyes widened
a little. "I'd like for you to start calling me that now."
"But you
- they all call you Rogue." His voice shook a little and softened too, mirroring
his slackening hold on her.
"They don't
know my real name. I've never told anyone but you." She smiled at him then,
a smile unlike any he'd seen from her so far. It was warm, welcoming, and
generous. Brilliant. Sure.
"Oh." He
was too busy looking at that smile to form a more elaborate response.
"Look -
we don't - we don't have to stay here. We can go somewhere else if you want.
I've got my own car, my own money, my own things. I've been - I've been selling
paintings on the side. Some of them sold very well. We don't have to stay
here if you don't want to. But - stay with me, OK? Stay with me, please."
He thought
about that, all of it. She waited patiently as he did, breathing in time
with him all the while. Finally, he looked up, looked into her in the eyes.
One last check to be sure. "Let's get outta here."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We're pretty
far out, aren't we?"
"Yeah." The
road flew by beneath Rogue's jeep and snow flew in random patterns around
and above it. She took her gloves off, reaching into the bag of pretzels they'd
bought at the last gas station after nonchalantly laying both gloves on the
console between her and Logan.
"How long
have you had this place?"
"Four years.
Won it in a fight."
"Hmm. How
much longer until we get there?"
"'Bout two
hours. Might have to walk the last bit." He looked over at her again, like
he did every few minutes. He wasn't sure if he kept checking to be sure she
was really there or that she was still OK with this.
"Nah. We
can fly." She grinned impishly, and reached out to feed him a pretzel. He
bit it on one end, seemingly not aware in the least of her deadly fingers
on the other.
Grinning
back, he said, "Sounds good to me, darlin'."
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