Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and some of you may want to revoke my squatter's rights to Scott after this - sorry! Had to let someone other than Jean get the short end of the stick here (not that Jean fares great......)

Summary: This plot bunny has been chomping on my booty for a long time now - it's not a great idea, I'm not especially thrilled with the story as it turned out, and the only reason I wrote it was to get it out of my system. And with that ringing endorsement, on with the fic ;)

She'd been walking in the snow a long time, hours, she was certain. Her face, fingers, and toes were numb, and she wondered what, exactly, happened when you get frostbite. Do those parts just fall off? She immediately stifled the thought - she had to keep walking, there just wasn't a choice, and morbid thoughts weren't going to get her to safety any faster.

She had no idea how far away the next town was, but she knew there must be one coming up soon. She'd been walking along a main road for a long time now. The road must go somewhere, she reasoned, and if I can get there before I freeze, I'll be OK. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to keep up a brisk pace in the half-foot of snow on the road. It was still snowing, and windy, and she wasn't surprised that she hadn't seen any cars on the road. Not fit for man or mutant, she thought, trying to cheer herself.

The snow swirled around her and the wind changed direction, blasting at her from the side instead of directly in her face. She thanked God for that small favor and tried to increase her pace a little. She'd made another ten kilometers or so when she heard something approaching behind her. Hoping that there was someone actually insane enough to consider driving in these conditions, she stopped and turned around. It was a car - a truck, actually, or maybe an SUV, judging by the headlights. She took a tentative step toward what she hoped was the center of the roadway, dropped her bag, and began waving her frozen limbs frantically back and forth in an effort to get the car to stop.

The car did stop, about a meter away from her. She hesitated for a moment - something about the way the vehicle had stopped - slowly, in an orderly fashion - something about that was wrong. It was almost as though they expected to find a snow-encrusted girl standing in the middle of the highway in this weather, at night. But her desire to get out of the cold won out over her fear. She picked her bag back up and went up to the driver's side of the car.

The window rolled down in anticipation of her approach and revealed a handsome young man of about 25 or so wearing wraparound sunglasses. I wonder if he can actually see where he's driving, Rogue thought. He smiled warmly at her and asked if she needed a ride. She could only nod and try to stop her teeth from chattering. He gestured with his head to the passenger side of the pickup truck, and Rogue ran around to the door.

It was opened for her, revealing the other passenger of the vehicle, a large, muscular man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Rogue hesitated again at the thought of getting into the truck with two men who could very easily subdue her and who could pretty much do with her as they wished. Taking a moment to decide that at least there was a chance they'd be decent, she moved to get in, but the muscular man halted her with his hand to her arm. He jumped out, then gestured for her to climb in. Throwing her bag in first, and trying to bite back tears at the stinging pain that the warm truck brought to her frozen extremities, she got in. The muscular man followed, closing the door behind him.

Rogue was tightly pressed between the two broad-shouldered men and she occupied herself with trying to get warm for a few long minutes. Finally, the sunglass-wearing driver spoke. "I'm Scott. This is Logan. What's your name?"

"Rogue," she answered in a thin and chattering voice. The snow plastered to her hair was beginning to melt and she heard a soft drip-drip-drip echo after her answer. She almost laughed at how pitiful she must look and sound.

"Well, I'm glad you asked," Scott replied smoothly. "We're headed to Westchester, New York. Logan and I are teachers at a school there, a special school." Rogue noticed as he spoke that both men were wearing head-to-toe leather and vague thoughts of some kinky, Story-of-O academy flashed through her mind. "How old are you, Rogue?" She flinched a little at that. She was seventeen, but she'd learned early on not to share that little tidbit of information with strangers. The question itself - one she'd heard from plenty of leering men along the way - also was causing some discomfort. She didn't answer, and fixed her gaze on the near-whited-out road that lay before them. "Ah, Rogue? How old are you?" Scott tried again.

That drew another indecipherable grunt from the man that had been introduced as Logan. When she heard the first vibration of spoken sound coming from him, she thought irrationally for a moment that he was going to dispute her answer, but he only said, "We gotta get outta this weather."

"Well then, turn 'round and go back." Rogue knew Logan meant back to Fort Providence, which was where she'd started her brisk little walk west on Highway Three. She didn't especially want to go back, but she didn't suppose she had much choice in the matter. She wasn't prepared to get out and start walking again.

"Fine. Fine." Scott brought the truck to a halt, then executed a three-point turn in the middle of the deserted road to get them headed in the right direction. A few silent moments passed before Scott spoke again. "How long have you been on your own, Rogue?"

"The school we mentioned - it's a special school for - for kids like you." Rogue wondered what he meant by that and then something in her head clicked - mutants. He knows I'm a mutant and he probably is one too, that would explain the sunglasses. "Logan and I - we'd like to talk with you about it."

Talk all you want, Rogue thought, I'm not going to some school. But she said aloud, "OK." Scott exchanged a glance with Logan over her head and Rogue experimentally wiggled her frozen toes. They seemed to be in working order, even if they stung and burned with pain.

"You see, Rogue, Logan and I were actually sent here to look for you." She tensed at that, eliciting what she thought was part-sniff, part-grunt from Logan but drawing no reaction from Scott. He continued, "We know that - that you're a mutant. Now, don't be afraid, we want to help you. We're mutants, just like yourself."

"The man who runs the school, Professor Charles Xavier. Perhaps you've heard of him?" Rogue shook her head at that. "Well, he's a very well-known advocate of mutants' rights. He asked us to find you and bring you to the school. If you'd like to come, that is." Right then and there, Rogue knew that the men wouldn't really give her a choice. They wanted her agreement, but she was going to be taken to Westchester regardless of her wishes. It wasn't anything in Scott's voice or manner that drew her to that conclusion; it was the way Logan tensed beside her, the way his breathing changed in response to Scott's words. She wondered if they'd somehow made him go to the school too.

When Rogue said nothing in reply, Scott prompted, "Rogue? What do you think? The school is free of charge and you would have room and board, the opportunity to interact with other kids your age. What do you think?" He smiled over at her to encourage her.

"It sounds interesting," she replied in a non-committal tone. While she didn't want to endorse her kidnappers' plans, she didn't want to let them know she was opposed either. She wasn't sure how they'd react, and she wanted to keep her options open.

"It's a wonderful place," Scott went on, "I'm sure you'll like it." If she had any doubts that her gut instincts were leading her astray before, they were completely quelled now - Scott's tone reinforced her assessment that the plan had been to grab her and take her to this school all along. She sat in silence, listening as he narrated more and more of the school's history, benefits, and general wonderfulness. She began to think about how she might get away from the two men when they reached Fort Providence.

When they got there, Scott left the truck running and went into the small Snowshoe Inn to inquire about a room. The fact that Logan had been left to watch her was not lost on Rogue. He eyed her intently the entire time, but didn't say a word. Finally, tiring of trying to ignore his scrutiny, she turned her gaze directly into his. "What are you two planning on doing with me?"

She leaned forward a little, and briefly considered trying to bolt out the other door. Something about the way Logan watched her and something about the way his posture was so tightly coiled made her think he'd be on her before she could turn the handle. "You could at least have the decency of being straight with me."

There was only one room available, and only one bed in that room. Scott suggested that Rogue take it and he and Logan sleep on the floor. He also suggested that she shower, and offered her some of his clean clothes to sleep in. She trudged off to the bathroom, with Scott's socks and long johns in tow. They must know what my mutation is, they must have some idea of how it works, she thought. Scott had also given her gloves.

She took her time in the bathroom. She borrowed Scott's razor and shaving cream - she hadn't shaved her legs or armpits in forever - as well as his shampoo. She spent a long time under the hot shower spray, keeping an ear out for anything that would indicate the approach of either man. She shut off the shower finally, and just stood in the thick steam of the bathroom for a few moments. Scott's voice drifted to her through the door.

"In that snowstorm?" Scott sounded disbelieving. "There's no way, not even for Sabretooth." Sabretooth. Now that was a name she'd heard before, whispered in some of the places she'd been. Apparently, he was a bounty hunter of some sort, and had crossed paths with several of the patrons that frequented the much-less-than-four-star establishments Rogue had found herself in over the past few months. He was feared, and reputed to be a mutant. She knew he was expensive, too, and wondered what she'd done to merit hiring the man to come after her.

"Shit, she smelled so much I coulda found her in the storm." Rogue winced a little at that. Personal hygiene had been low on her list of concerns and she was sure being so closely pressed up against the two men couldn't have been pleasant for them. "I'm sure that asshole could too. We can't let our guard down."

"Fuck off," Logan answered succinctly. There was silence between the two men for several long moments. She thought she heard one of them pacing the room. Logan was the one to finally speak. "Don't think she's workin' for them. Don't think she probably knows anythin' 'bout it."

"Well, what does the fact that we hadta save her sorry ass from freezin' to death tell ya? She looks 'bout as harmless as a damn kitten." Rogue stifled a chuckle at that. Maybe they didn't know exactly what her power did. But who did they think she was working for?

"We can't assume anything. Even if she is just - just some runaway, we know what they have planned for her. Even if she's unaware, even if she isn't a willing participant, we can't let their plan succeed." Now Rogue's curiosity was peaked. "You know our orders," Scott added darkly.

"Yeah," Logan agreed. "But - " He cut himself off abruptly, and Rogue wondered if he'd finally realized that the shower was no longer running and that she might be able to hear them. She stayed perfectly still. "How long has she been in there?"

"There's no window. There's no other way out," Scott said in a soft voice. Rogue frowned and huffed a little. It looked like that was all the information she was likely to get. In the next second, she was startled to hear a knock on the door, right next to her ear. She hadn't heard either man move.

"Nah." She didn't hear Logan move away from the door, so she shook Scott's shaving cream container and sprayed some out for good measure. She remembered how Logan sniffed at her in the truck and surmised that he had some kind of enhanced sense of smell. If he smelled the what- must-be-very-distinctive scent of shaving cream, that would lend her some credibility. She still hadn't heard him move. A few seconds later, she heard, "You almost done?" The voice was further away from the door - Logan had backed up at least a little.

"Just a few more minutes." Rogue dressed in the borrowed clothes and gloves. Running a brush through her hair, she went back over the conversation she'd eavesdropped on. Deciding that she'd wait for them to fall asleep and then try to get away, she took a few more deep breaths to steady herself, then opened the door.

Rogue had been waiting - Logan was the last to fall asleep and she herself had slept briefly, only to come awake again. At first she thought that Logan had been awake the entire time, but then she half-remembered hearing a noise that stirred her from sleep. She heard movement from Scott when she awoke, but somehow, she was sure Logan had made the noise and had woken himself with it. She waited for Scott's breathing to even out, and then focused on listening to Logan.

As she lay in the bed, mentally organizing her plan of action, she heard a noise outside their motel room window. At first, she disregarded it, but after a few moments, it wasn't going away. She thought she heard Logan sit up - he was sleeping on the floor near the door - and in the next split second, the door flung open.

Silhouetted by the outside lights, Rogue saw two large men framed by the doorway. In an instant Logan was up, and Scott as well. She heard a growl from somewhere and the thought that one of the men was probably Sabretooth flashed through her mind, setting off a pang of fear. One of the men engaged Logan, and the other entered the room, only to be intercepted by a bright beam of red light emanating from Scott's head. Guess I know what his mutation is, she thought.

She stayed on the bed for a moment, while Logan continued grappling with the second man and while Scott knelt beside the man he'd blasted. Rogue could smell the acrid scent of scorched flesh, and she crinkled up her nose at it. Just as the thought that now might be a very good time for her to make a run for it passed through Rogue's mind, she heard the sound of metal and saw some kind of very large knives glimmer in the moonlight. The knives swung back in her direction, then forward, and it took a moment for Rogue to realize that they'd suddenly disappeared because they'd been sunk into the torso of the man Logan was grappling with. She heard a sickeningly wet, sucking sound, then saw the man drop to the floor.

Looking a little more closely, Rogue realized that the knives were implanted in Logan's hands, like claws. He sharply turned to look at her, clawed hand raised a little. Blood and gore dripped from the three sharp metal appendages, and Rogue gasped a little at the sight. Logan looked back at her, meeting her wide eyes and flushed face. The wind blew through the open door, pushing her hair back away from her face and givin Logan an even better view of her expression. He frowned at what he saw, and then stalked to the bathroom.

They were all back in the truck again, driving through the thick snow. The only main road - for the most part he *only* road in this part of the Northwest Territories was Highway Three, and they all found themselves retracing their path from earlier today. Logan had thrown Rogue's bag in the bed of the truck, and had thrown the comforter and blankets from the hotel bed into the truck with her. She hadn't noticed before that the truck's heating system provided minimal warmth, and she was glad for Logan's hurried additions. It had felt so warm to her before, when she first came in out of the snow, she thought, and she shivered a little at how awfully cold she must have really been.

No one was talking, and the fact that they'd just high-tailed it out of a sleazy motel room, leaving the proprietors plus two corpses and minus a lot of bedding seemed to Rogue to be worthy of some commentary, so she broke the silence with, "What happened back there?"

"After us or just me?" Rogue queried, drawing a disgusted grunt from Logan. "Look, I know something's up. I know you snagged me off of that road for a reason. Come on, spill it." The two men exchanged another look, and Logan began to speak.

"What? They built a machine and what? What does any of that have to do with me?" Both men remained silent and Logan turned to face the window. "Fine. Fine, then. Just - just give me my bag and let me out here." Neither man reacted at all. "I said I want out of the truck."

Logan stared out the window and sulked. The girl had gone quiet, and her anger was spent. He could smell her fear now, and he didn't like it. He'd follow One-eye's orders, though, up to a point, and it was clear that Scooter didn't want the girl to know about Magneto's little plans for her. When they stopped next, he'd have it out with Scooter, Logan thought. He'd convince him to tell the girl something about what was going on. After all, it was her life that Magneto was looking to take, and it would be her life that he and Scott would take if it came down to it, if they couldn't keep her out of Magneto's hands. Those were the Professor's orders, and if Logan didn't like them, he understood the tactical necessity of them. You had to trade the life of one person for the life of thousands, even if that was still a pretty shitty trade.

Rogue shifted and drew the blankets up further around her face. Logan flashed back to the expression he'd seen on that face when he turned to look at her after killing their attacker. Her shock, her wide-eyed stare at the blood dripping from him - it was what he was and he couldn't honestly say he was ashamed of it, not any more. But something about her expression made him wish he were different, and that was something he hadn't wished for in a long time.

Scott interrupted his reverie. "Here's the next town. We need gas." Scott pulled off the highway and onto the exit ramp. Slowing down as he approached the gas station, he asked Rogue, "Do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

"Logan, take her into the convenience store, get whatever she needs. Rogue, if you - if you need to go to the bathroom, now's a good time." She didn't answer, but uncurled herself from the blanket and followed Logan out of the car.

Rogue walked ahead of him, making a b-line for the service counter. For a moment, Logan thought she was going to smile and use her honeyed southern drawl to cheerfully explain how she had been kidnapped by a couple of freaks and needed help. But she simply asked where the restrooms were and headed of for them without a backward glance at Logan.

He thought she might try to run then, but she didn't. He didn't really know what that meant, but somehow it didn't seem like a good thing. She reemerged and brushed past him, collecting little bags of food and a few small bottles of soda. He watched her mill about the small store and when she was done, she stomped over to him and presented her selections. He gestured for her to go to the counter, snagged a few items of his own, and then paid for it all in cash. Fuck Scooter, Logan thought. If he wants something, he can get it himself.

Scott was waiting for them by the truck, and he informed Logan that he needed to 'use the facilities.' Logan nodded and he and Rogue got in the truck. Rogue opened the bag of pretzels and the bottle of Pepsi she'd brought. As she munched on the snacks, she nonchalantly, and without looking at Logan, said, "So they built a machine and then what? What were you going to say?"

He looked at her for a minute and realized suddenly that that's why she hadn't run - she was hoping to get more information out of him before she decided what to do. He swallowed, looked away from her, and made his decision. "They got a machine that'll mutate normal humans, at least that's what they think it'll do. It'll probably just kill 'em all, but it's pretty much the same difference to them. They need you, your power, to run it. Your mutation'll provide the power to mutate the others."

"I overheard you talking when I was in the bathroom last night. I know who he is. I've been - I've been around." She hadn't really meant to tell him the truth, but it just came out before she could do anything about it. She shrugged a little and offered, "It's only fair that I listened in. You guys kidnapped me."

"You don't give a damn about that," Rogue said, with sudden heat. "The only reason you picked me up is to foil their little plan. The only reason you saved my ass was so that someone else wouldn't get to me first. It's not like it would've mattered to you otherwise." She jerked the blankets more tightly around herself and went back to eating the pretzels. Logan was watching her intently again, and it didn't register for a second or two that Scott had returned.

They stopped again at dusk in some little town that none of them really bothered to note the name of. This time, the action started almost as soon as the truck was put in park. Logan had been driving and, seemingly without any cause, was flung from the truck through the window. Rogue looked around for the source of the trouble, and dimly noted that Scott had been similarly ejected and had screamed and then fallen to the ground. He was saying something about his glasses, but it didn't really register with Rogue. Looking around and still seeing no one, she ventured out of the truck.

From out of nowhere, a man wearing some kind of helmet and a cape floated to the earth immediately in front of her. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, the kind of age at which you bounce grandchildren on your knee, not go out and pick fights with laser-blasting or clawed mutants. "Do not be afraid, child," he said, in a smooth voice. "No harm shall come to you."

Rogue knew from Logan's words that it was likely that wasn't entirely, or at all, true, especially if this was one of the people after her for use in the machine, but she plastered a big smile on her face and said, "Oh, thank God! I'm so glad you're here! These two freaks kidnapped me and I thought they were going to leave me dead in a ditch! Thank God someone's here to help me!"

"We've got to get out of here," she continued. "Do you have a car or something?" The old man's mouth quirked at the corners. He glanced behind himself for a second, giving Rogue time to wiggle out of one of her gloves. She didn't want to touch him. She really, really didn't. It would hurt like hell, God only knew what kind of weird mutation he had, and it would mean she'd be out for a while, and at the mercy of Logan and Scott, who could very well decide that she was just a little too much trouble alive. But she knew she might not have a choice, and she hoped, prayed, that Logan might not let Scott kill her, at least not right away. By the time he turned back around, the relieved expression was well-entrenched on Rogue's features, her bare hand was concealed behind her hip, and she gave the old man another small smile.

"Plane? Are you - are you a pilot or something? Is that why you've got a helmet and a cape?" She was hoping to keep him talking, and there, long enough for Scott or Logan to do something. Not that they were actually doing anything, Rogue thought bitterly. Scott seemed to be obsessed with finding his glasses, and Logan seemed frozen to the ground.

"Ah, yes. Yes, that's it exactly. This way, please." He was about to turn his back to her when Logan let out a strangled grunt. The old man whirled to face him, anger and irritation written plainly on his face. "Do you never learn, Wolverine?" The old man waved his hand and Logan's body twisted, his claws extended and tore across his chest and legs, and his head bent back at an unnatural angle. Rogue couldn't help letting out a gasp at that. "Do not fret, my dear, he had that coming to him. You see, he's been guilty of much worse crimes than kidnapping. And he especially likes young girls." Rogue forced a small smile of relief out at the man, and made her decision.

Quickly, and without hesitation, she grabbed his bare neck with her bare hand. His other hand seized on her and the pull began, but he was not strong enough to lever her off or to use his powers to free himself. Rogue's pull secured him to her tightly, and it would have to be Rogue who let go.

She felt the usual surge of chaos and panic as he flowed into her. She fought it, seeking information about him, his plan, and her role in it, as well as whatever information she could extract about Scott and Logan. At length, she let go, and collapsed to the ground. The old man, Erik, as he called himself, and Magneto as others called him, collapsed as well. He wasn't dead, Rogue knew, but he was well out of it.

She crawled over to Logan, her head throbbing and blood dripping out of her ears and eyes. She knew she would pass out too, in a moment. She focused, concentrated hard on harnessing Magneto's powers. She knew what they were, how to use them, and why they worked so well on Logan form her contact with Magneto. She made quick and good use of that knowledge, straightening Logan's neck and spine before she collapsed into darkness.

Logan paced the small gas station rest room and cursed. The girl wasn't responding to anything - cold water on her face, him trying to walk her around a bit - nothing brought her back to consciousness. She had stopped bleeding from her eyes, which Logan was glad of. Frankly, that just freaked him out. But she was still bleeding a little from one ear. Although he could tell that her breathing and heart rate were OK, he was still certain that she needed some kind of medical help.

His insistence on that is how he wound up in a small gas station rest room in the first place. Shortly after Marie had taken out Magneto, Scott called in the x-men to pick him up. There was a small complication with that - the mansion was under attack at the moment, and, while it was good to know that Sabretooth was on the other end of the continent, it meant that both Jean and Hank were needed there. Storm would fly the blackbird to retrieve and secure Magneto. The girl, Rogue, wasn't going back on the blackbird with Storm.

Scott had plenty of logical reasons - Magneto was the priority and the girl was unpredictable, maybe even harboring some resentment toward them for having refused to tell her the whole story. They couldn't chance something going wrong on that return flight. Finally having Magneto in their grasp was something Scott wasn't willing to risk losing, not for any reason. He said that the blackbird would return for them as soon as Magneto had been secured.

Logan cursed and growled and, after a while, even tried logical methods of persuasion. The only reason they had Magneto now was because of the girl, shouldn't we help her? What if she dies while she's waiting for help? Weren't we supposed to be protecting her? Isn't saving little muties what the whole thing is all about? All arguments fell on deaf ears, and things got a little heated before the blackbird came. Scott made it clear that leaving the girl wasn't his first choice, it was a necessity done for the greatest good. Logan replied 'screw the greatest good' and Scott indicated that since Logan had already screwed everything in sight, that he might as well go ahead and screw that too. Scott taunted that he'd probably try screwing Rogue while unconscious, were it not for her deadly skin. That prompted a swipe of Logan's claws across Scott's shoulder - not deep enough to cut, but deep enough to send a clear message. Their pissing contest was interrupted by 'Ro and the blackbird. Scott left with her, Magneto in tow, leaving Logan to care for the girl until they returned.

"Fuck," he cursed again. He's sat Rogue on the floor, up against the wall. He crouched down to bring himself to eye level with her. "Kid, you gotta wake up. C'mon. I'll getcha some more food, whatever you want. C'mon, kid." He remembered how he felt when Magneto had twisted his body - searing pain, made all the worse by his own mutation's efforts to heal and to move impossibly hard metal back into place. He wasn't sure why the girl had hung on so long, if she'd needed to do that to get enough of Magneto's powers to unbend him. He wasn't sure if the cost of his repair was her current state of unconsciousness. Maybe, Scott had hypothesized, this is normal, maybe this is how her powers usually work. Maybe she'll come out of it. Scott hadn't been able to answer Logan's question - what if she doesn't?

It had been almost an hour since Scott left, and they should return soon. Hurry up, hurry up, Logan thought, sitting on the hard, cold, filthy tile floor beside Rogue and shifting her into his lap for warmth. Hurry up.

Four hours later, Logan finally conceded the fact that they weren't coming back. He'd tried calling on the mission cell phone and telepathically. No response. Either something was very seriously wrong, or they were deliberately not responding to his calls for help for the girl. Either way, he had no idea if other Brotherhood agents might be after them, and they couldn't very well stay in a bathroom all day.

He patched the lost widows of the truck with cardboard boxes he found behind the gas station dumpster and some duct tape that he bought in the store. They had to find a new vehicle - this one was no longer legally drivable, and that would attract attention. Logan settled on trying to make the next town in it and trying again to contact the mansion, though. There were few other options. He bundled Rogue in the stolen hotel blankets and seat-belted her into the passenger seat. As he drove, he would occasionally talk to her or shake her. Still no response.

They reached a small logging town on the border of the Alberta Province line. Logan paid for a room out of his dwindling supply of cash and parked the truck in the far corner of the parking lot. He carried Rogue in, then their things, and shut the door behind them. Two more phone calls and one telepathic call to the x-men produced no result. He sighed and began to unwrap Rogue from the blankets, intending to put her into a fresh bed.

He was greeted by a very unpleasant odor, followed shortly by the realization that unconscious people cannot very well go to the bathroom by themselves. He let out a sigh, and ran a bath. As averse to taking care of the problem as he was, he couldn't let her lie in her own urine. Putting on a turtleneck and gloves, he stripped Rogue of her clothes. Adding them to the pile of soiled blankets, he headed back to the truck, having left Rogue on the tile bathroom floor.

When he returned, he thought she might've moved just a little - he'd left her lying face-up, with her arms at her side, and now, one arm was stretched out perpendicular to her body. He looked at her for a moment, taking the look of her in. Catching his thoughts beginning to wander down a path better left alone, he knelt beside her and tried again to rouse her. It didn't work, so he eased her into the warm bath water and reached for the bar of soap.

All of a sudden, she let out a moan and moved her head to the side. "Rogue?" Logan called. Her eyes fluttered open a little. "Rogue, c'mon. Wake up." She had some difficulty focusing on him, but her eyes finally squinted in roughly the correct direction.

"You're OK. You're safe." He thought that would be the most important information to convey to her, and he didn't quite realize that her current state of undress and position might make her think otherwise despite his words.

"I dunno what you mean." Her eyes rolled at that and then they closed. "Rogue? Rogue?" She didn't respond. Logan tried several more times, then gave up and commenced with the bath. After she was reasonably clean, he put her in one of the beds and took the other for himself. They could always take the blankets from his bed if she has another accident, he thought. Lazily, almost as an afterthought, he turned on the television.

The CBC was reporting a massive attack on mutants in the US. Still, it wasn't until a shot of the mansion popped up on the screen that Logan put the pieces together. The reporter said that there were many casualties, and that the government had intervened during a battle between two warring mutant factions. Surviving combatants from both sides had been detained at a special government facility for further investigation. The school, the reporter said, was in need of serious structural repairs, and had been condemned by the county health department. It was closed indefinitely, and could not reopen until repairs were made.

"Dammit." Although Logan felt fairly confident that the Professor would be able to buy, persuade, or use his powers to see to it that the x-men were freed eventually, it meant that there would be no way of getting their assistance for Rogue anytime soon. It also meant that he was on his own - no convenient money transfers from Westchester to finance this journey would be in his future. Hell, he thought, that's assuming that Chuck survived. "Dammit," he cursed aloud again, a little more vehemently this time.

Unexpectedly, he was answered by a faint whisper. "What's wrong?" It startled him so much that he dropped his beer to the floor and accidentally let a few still-red-hot cigar ashes fall to his lap. He looked over, brushing at his legs and reaching down to right the beer bottle, to see Rogue staring back at him clear-eyed.

"Yeah," he answered softly. "One helluva trick ya got there, kid." The corner of her mouth quirked upwards at that. "You get some rest. You're gonna be OK." Logan still wasn't entirely sure of that, but he was beginning to be more hopeful that the words would prove true.

"What happened to the other guy, Scott?" Logan let out a sigh and sunk back into the bad, flat on his back. He wasn't sure exactly how to tell Marie everything that had happened. What was he supposed to say? He took off with the bad guy and left you with me and no, he didn't really give a shit that you were hurt.

"Look," Logan sat up in a burst of irritation and frustration, and turned a little to face her again. "I ain't gonna sugar coat it for ya. He took Magneto and split back to Westchester. He was supposedta come back and get ya, to get ya to a doctor, but they were fightin' a battle with some of those other mutants that were in on the machine plan back at the school and all hell broke loose. It even made the news up here."

"I dunno if he's even still alive. Do ya need a doctor?" Rogue shook her head no. Logan, in the spirit of not sugar-coating things, decided to make sure. "You were bleedin' real bad for a while - blood comin' outta your eyes and your ears. You kept on bleedin' for a while. That ain't normal is it?"

Rogue's eyes softened and she sighed. "It's not a fun thing to use my mutation against someone else. It hurts me. It hurts my brain every time. The longer I hold on, the worse it is. I don't know really what happens, but yes, I usually do pass out and then bleed from my eyes, ears, and nose. It stops. I wake back up. Eventually I feel fine."

Logan nodded, once. "I'm stickin' with ya. Dunno who's left standin' after the fight. If - if things turn out OK, if they get mosta the bad guys, then I'll leave ya alone. Until then, I'm sorry, but you're pretty much stuck with me, kid."

The first few days brought some information about what had happened in Westchester to Logan, through old connections and back channels. Among the rumored casualties were Mystique, Toad, 'Ro, Remy, and Chuck. Logan felt a pang of sadness at Storm's loss. He'd always liked the weather goddess, and had always blamed himself to a degree for her ill-fated romance with Scott. Scott had dropped her like a hot potato once Jean and Logan had ended their affair, and Logan always thought that 'Ro had deserved better. He never really knew Remy and Chuck - well, Chuck was probably happy that he died fighting the good fight.

The same rumors had Magneto, Sabretooth, Jean, Scott, Jubilee, Kitty, Hank, and Bobby among the detained. Hopefully, the x-men portion of that list would be freed without Chuck's string- pulling help. Logan thought so - there were news repots that the investigation tended to place blame on the shoulders of the Brotherhood. Logan still didn't know who the two Brotherhood operatives were that had been sent after them that first night, and they weren't listed among the dead or captured here.

It'd take a while to sort itself all out, though, and Logan found himself wondering if he still wanted to go back to Westchester now. He had respected Chuck, even admired him in a way, but he didn't have that same regard for Scott, who would now likely lead the team and the school. Plus, there was the lingering complication of Jeannie - their affair had seemingly upset the destined natural order of things, and the resulting tension was still very much felt by all the mansion residents. Jean blamed Logan for luring her into an affair, Scott blamed Jean for cheating, and 'Ro, although very quiet and outwardly pleasant, blamed all of the above for her own broken heart. Assorted x-men and students each took a side, and it usually wasn't Logan's. To be honest, he wasn't eager to go back into that soap opera.

"Sure, kid." Logan had been enjoying Rogue's (no, Marie - she told you her real name is Marie, he mentally chastised himself every now and then) company the past few days. That, in and of itself was a rare thing. Even friends, even lovers tended to wear on his nerves past a half hour or so. Marie had spent days on end happily chattering on about nothing and everything and he found himself liking it.

Even more unusual, he found himself being indulgent toward her. If she wanted pancakes for lunch, then he'd drive until he found a diner serving them. If she asked a little timidly if she could borrow his razor to shave her legs, he agreed, knowing it would be uselessly dull in no time. If she wanted to stop and look up at the sky in a certain spot, he pulled over.

For her part, she seemed equally pleased with him. She didn't push him to talk when he was quiet. She didn't fuss if he responded with a grunt instead of a spoken answer. She didn't mind that he woke her up with his nightmares, and downplayed the fact that he'd almost clawed her once. When he wanted to talk about something on his mind, she listened quietly and thoroughly, and tried to give a thoughtful response.

Perhaps the most interesting thing was that they both found themselves smiling at the other often, and that was unusual for both. Marie was wearing one of those smiles as they pulled into the parking lot of the diner, and Logan noticed for the first time that she was beautiful. Not that he had thought her unattractive before, but for the first time, he looked at her and thought - beautiful. He felt a warmth inside him, looking at her, and he liked it.

"Well, you've been talkin' 'bout pancakes so long, I think I might hafta get some." She laughed a little at that as they approached the diner entrance. Suddenly, Marie stopped walking and drew away from Logan a little. "What?"

"No," Marie rebutted. "No, I'm not. All of the bad guys are in jail or - or gone and you don't have to stick with me any more. But you are. And I'm sticking with you too." She smiled softly, and made sure that her eyes met his. "I like you."

Logan buried both hands in her hair, drawing her closer to him. "I like you too." The got him a big smile, one he returned. He had the strangest urge to grab her and kiss her silly, right there in the parking lot. He settled for using her scarf as a barrier and planting a very chaste kiss on her lips. He pulled back to look at her and, giving her a wink, he ushered her in front of him and into the diner.