Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

A Mississippi Belle in the Connecticut Breakdown Lane

Title: A Mississippi Belle in the Connecticut Breakdown Lane

E-Mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13, swearing

Archive: Dolphin Haven, Peep Hut - anyone else, please ask :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Rats.

Feedback: Please? With a good driver insurance discount on top? Good, Bad, and Ugly welcome.......

Summary: Logan and Rogue's first date goes more than a little wrong.

Comments: This was inspired by several things, first and foremost being CJ's wonderful Bad Dates - it unleashed a super-speedy, long-toothed bunny that tore me away from finishing my Hank fic and demanded that I write this instead. After reading CJ's fic, I began wondering - what if Rogue went out on a Bad Date with Logan? The JerkScott you see here is influenced by me not liking him much in JenN's fabulous Remember Me? where he's being awfully pissy to Bobby ;) Lastly, this was inspired by a real life experience, many, many moons ago, way back when I myself was a teenager ;) I was heading to Boston for the summer, and I'd never been further northeast than Pennsylvania in my whole life, at the time. I was driving my trusty Chevy Cavalier and congratulating myself on surviving traffic in and around big, bad New York City when I crossed over into Connecticut and began seeing strange signs - 'One vehicle per lane,' 'Do not Drive in Median,' and 'Do Not Drive in Breakdown Lane.' Well, this was before I'd ever been exposed to the wonder that is big city traffic (gee, thanks, Chicago!) and I'm driving along thinking - who the hell would be so stupid as to drive in the breakdown lane? Yep, right on cue, a convertible BMW blew past me on the right, in the breakdown lane. I was doing, well, let's say just a wee bit over the legal speed limit, and this guy passed me like I was standing still. He must've been doing 90, at least. In the breakdown lane! My mind still can't wrap itself around that spectacle of bad driving, but suffice to say, I've since seen worse, and driving in Boston that summer was an adventure all of its own.....

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Logan approaching. Logan imminent. Must take one last glance in mirror. Looking good, if I do say so myself. Checking the time - 5:59. One minute until Logan. Logan ETA under sixty seconds. Makeup - good; hair - good, just-long-enough-not-to-be-slutty skirt - good; sweater - good. Gloves and scarf are go. I am ready for this. I am ready for a date with Logan.

Eeep! He's early. It's still 5:59. "Come in."

"Hey, you, uh, ready?" Oh, my goodness. Oh, my. It looks like I'm not the only one who's been primping in front of a mirror all afternoon. He looks *hot*, and I mean different and better than the usual hotness. He dressed up. Logan. Dressed. Up. There's not a scrap of denim or flannel anywhere on his body. Nope, not a bit. Instead, we have this nice black turtleneck and black slacks ensemble that - oh dear Lord - is even finished off with shoes. Nice shoes, black shoes that have obviously been recently polished. Not boots, shoes. And a belt. "Marie?"

"Um, sorry. Yeah, I'm ready. You look really good."

"Yeah. You too." Not that his eyes have left my boobs, but that's OK. That's what this sweater is for, and it's doing it's job. Good sweater. It's saying - I am Rogue, high school graduate and legal adult. I am Rogue - dating eligible and ready for a relationship, yes even one with someone much, much older than me. "Nice sweater."

"I'm glad you like it." And, seemingly, the boobs therein. "I wasn't sure how to dress, but since you said a nice place, I hope this is OK."

"Yeah. Yeah. We're - we're goin' to the Eight Mile Brook Steak House. I made reservations." Oooh - steak house. Definitely sounds like a nice place. It'll probably be quiet, and, dare I say - intimate. Hmmmm. "Ready?"

"Yeah." And we're off. First date with Logan. Whoo-hoo!

"Um, you know when you said we were going to this place, I kind of thought it was in town." Not that I'm opposed to driving a couple hours with this spiffed-up Logan by my side, oh no. It's just that if we drive up to Connecticut, eat, and drive back, I'll be out well into the wee hours of tomorrow morning. Which, again, is perfectly okey-dokey with me, but God knows we'll come back to Scott sitting on the couch with a huge crank-on for us. It's not like I have a curfew or anything - once you're on the team and kicking bad guy ass, you can't always be home by midnight - but he's so nervous about the whole me-and-Logan-dating thing, that I can just see him turning purple when we're running late. Then again, maybe that's why we're going to Connecticut - Logan does like to give Scott grief whenever possible and ever since he stopped flirting with Jean, those opportunities have been few and far between.

"Wanted to head out a little. Hardly ever get outta the mansion, or offa the grounds unless it's for a mission."

"Ah." Still not fully explanatory, but I can go with it.

"We're almost there. 'Bout another twenty minutes. We'll be right on time for the reservations, don't worry."

"It was nice of you to make reservations." And to get all dressed up. And to come get me at my door instead of the usual 'meetcha in the garage, kid' whenever we go somewhere together. I like this dating thing a lot so far.

"Have you ever eaten at this place before?" Weird look there.

"No, Chuck suggested it."

"Oh." Still with the weird look. What's up with that?

"You wanna go somewhere else?"

"No, no. This sounds great. Just - just wondering." Wondering whether you'd taken some other babe there before, mostly. Which could be good, or bad. Good - because it would be a sign that he really does see me as a dating-eligible babe, and bad because - well, if it could be his regular babe- trap or something. You know, give them a little wine, some good steak, and kablammo, pop them over to the nearest motel for some hot, sweaty sex. I'd kind of like for us to do something a little different than his usual, you know, even if I am perfectly willing to be babe-trapped. Well - babe- trapped to some extent. I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to jump right into bed together, just like that. I kind of want to go slower, and not just because I'm so woefully inexperienced. And I am woefully inexperienced. I mean, this is my third date ever. I've only had one kiss, which just about killed the guy in question. But it's not just that - I want to go slower so that he can make up his mind about me - whether he can deal with the age factor, the skin factor, and whether he really wants to have a serious relationship with me. I think we should take our time and find those things out.

"That's a weird sign."

"That sign there - 'no driving in the breakdown lane.' Who the hell would drive in the - "

Heh. Right on cue, a BMW ripping up on our right, in the breakdown lane. Logan thinks that's pretty funny and so do I. "This is why I don't fuckin' drive in the city."

"But we're not in the city, we're out in the country. We're in Connecticut." That didn't sound very convincing since I'm still laughing a little.

"Aw, Connecticut ain't the country, darlin'. Only seems that way to people who've only ever been in cities."

"You're right." And I just love it that you're relaxing a little - finally. I should jot down BMW guy's license plate and send him some cookies. "That's one thing I liked about being on the road - I got to see a lot of the country."

"Yeah. Only way to really see things is drivin', or on foot. You don't see jack shit when you fly."

"Yeah. Although I've only ever flown in the blackbird. And Magneto's helicopter." Oh, crap. You put your foot in it there, girl. Bringing up Erik always makes Logan tense. Quick - change the subject. "You know, I'm really glad you did decide to get us out of the mansion a little. It's nice to just leave everything behind." Like the memories of the extreme badness and near-death experiences we've had at the hands of Magneto. Hint, hint.

"Didn't want Scooter lookin' over my shoulder. Or Chuck doin' any eavesdroppin' - wanted it to be just us."

"Me too." Not that I think that either one of them would've - well, OK maybe Scott would've tried to follow us.

"They don't like this too damn much, this you and me thing."

"Does that bother you?"

"Nah. Just - " Oh, no you don't. You always complain when I do that. No fair.

"Just makes me..careful."

Yes, I heard you correctly. I repeated the word in a questioning tone because I did not understand what you meant by it. Allow me to clarify that. "What do you mean by careful?"

"Careful not to mess up with you."

"You haven't so far."

"Logan - " I know it's just the first date and all, but this evening - well, it could really set the tone for how things go, and I don't want him feeling like he has to walk on eggshells all the time. " - you know that I really love Scott, and the Professor. I owe them both a lot. But if you're going to special trouble or anything because of them, you should probably know that I'm not really inclined to take their advice over my own feelings. I mean - what you do with me will matter more to me than what they think about anything. Sure, they're great guys, but you're - you're dating me, not them."

Oooh - intense look there. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Maybe too intense. Time to lighten things up a little. Dates are supposed to be fun, after all. "Unless there's something you're not telling me. Scott does look good in leather.."

"Heh." Whew. "Not as good as you." Whoa! "Um, not that I noticed."

"Clearly not." He deserves a little teasing for that one. "And it's not like I noticed that you look really good in just about anything."

"Especially this get-up."

"Hmph." Now, that look I recognize - it's the Look of Ponderation, as I have dubbed it, and it's usually prompted by Logan meeting up with something he can't quite figure out or that doesn't match his assumptions. It happens sometimes on missions, and, to be honest, I've noticed it happening on more than a few occasions with me. "You really like this?"

"Yeah. You look nice."

"Civilized, for a change?"

"I didn't say that." And he didn't sound mad, not quite, but -

OK, Rogue, think. "I guess it's less the actual clothing - which does look very good on you, and I will say that I've always thought black is your color - it's less the actual clothing than the fact that I know you went to some trouble to dress like this. I guess I like it because I'm flattered and pleasantly surprised that you'd do that for me."

"Why wouldya think I wouldn't I go to trouble for you?" Dear Lord, that was a little upset, and I can almost hear the giant sucking sound of this date going down the toilet. Stupid brain, why didn't you come up with something good to say instead of something that made him think I don't appreciate all the times he's risked his life and everything for me?

"I know you would. And you have, repeatedly. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that I don't think you'd do that. I meant to say that I wasn't - I mean, to dress up just for me is - what I'm trying to say is that I don't usually think of myself as - um, you know what? I'm just going to stop talking now. I can't make it come out right, I'm sorry."

"Sorry." Great job, Rogue. You've ruined the date. Now he's going to be all quiet and awkward for the rest of the night, and you're just going to sit there, across the table from him, trying to eat the nice food he'll buy you and think of a way to apologize that makes some actual sense. Yeah, that's a wonderful first date for the man of your dreams. Way to go.

"Listen, Marie, I - I - just forget I said anythin', huh?"

"No, you were right. I made it sound like - like I'm either really stupid and just haven't *noticed* all the things you've done for me and all the times you saved my life, or really ungrateful and bitchy."

"You're not bitchy." Just stupid and ungrateful, then. Yay. "I'm - I'm - hmph."

"Go ahead, just say it, Logan." Because maybe hearing him bitch me out will give me some clue of how to salvage this big old crap-heap I've gotten us into.

"I dunno how to talk to you anymore. It's like - I find myself lookin' for what's behind everythin' you say and do. I'm just readin' more inta what's there or somethin', lookin' for signs of what you're thinkin'."

"What I'm thinking about what? You could, um, just ask if there's something you'd like to know."

"Why'd you tell me to start datin' you?" Whoa - there was no 'telling'. I told him that I liked him and that I thought if he liked me maybe we could go on a date. A date, singular. "You worried 'bout somethin'?"

OK, now I'm totally lost. "Worried about what?"

"Me just jumpin' you or takin' advantage of you or somethin'."

"Oh, Logan." I didn't mean to laugh at that, and I know that pissed him off, but it's really kind of funny. "I'm not worried about that at all. Not one bit. Taking advantage of me would be the last thing you'd ever do. It's so out there, it's funny."

"Yeah, well, some people don't think it's so funny."

"I'm not one of those people." Time to be a little serious, I think, and to call on my inner-Logan for a little help. "Look, I said maybe we could go on a date because I like you, a lot, and I think we would be, you know, really great together. That's the only reason. Not because I'm worried about you doing anything. Well, OK, I am worried that you'll want to date someone else, and I have a few other me-related worries, but none about you."

"What the hell would you be worried 'bout?" That's surprised, not pissed, which is progress.

"Oh, you know, killer skin, powerful enemies, the whole stupid awkward teenager thing."

"You're seriously worried that - that what? I wouldn't wanna be with you 'cause of those things?"

"Well, yeah." As in, 'duh'. I mean, I'm not making this up - they're pretty compelling reasons.

"You're outta your goddamn mind if you think that."

"I mean it, Marie - just stop worryin' over those things right now. It's stupid."

"Again with the - gee, thanks."

"Hmph." Oh-oh. We're pulling over. Into the breakdown lane. I hope there aren't any more speeding - "Look - I dunno how I can possibly make it any clearer to you that I wanna be with you, regardless of pretty much everything." Whoa. Heart doing flip-flops. Pulse racing. Not breathing. But - brain still has a counter-argument.

"Everything except what you're worried that Scott and the Professor think. Everything except what you're worried I think - if you might take advantage or things like that."

"Hmph." Good counter-argument, brain, but you made all the nice things he was saying stop. Stupid brain. Last time I let you do the thinking. "OK, you got a point there." Oh shut up, you're not as smart as you think you are, you smug little grey matter. "I just wanna - I do wanna be careful with you, and not just 'cause of what other people think, 'cause of what you think. Marie, I really dunno what you think half the time. You got me in your head, but I don't have you up here. I dunno if you might think - I dunno what you might think."

"So, ask me. Ask me, and I'll tell you. I've never lied to you, or refused to tell you something, even when it was really embarrassing." Like the time you asked why I wasn't acting like myself and I had to tell you it wasn't anything you did, it was just PMS. "Just ask."

"You wanna date me?"

"Yes. In fact, that's why I suggested it." Good, he's smiling a little again. Teasing - he really does like it when I do that. Got to file that away for future use.

"You wanna pick me for that, outta all the guys you coulda had."

That's a very short list, but my answer is the same. "Yeah."

"Well, then, will you agree to somethin'?"

"You're mine." Whoa. Holy intensity, Batman. "All mine. Just mine. Mine."

"Deal. But - but you're mine too, then. And this - dating - I still want to do it, I still want to go a little slow."

"Deal." This is the part where I'd kiss him smack on the lips if I was a normal girl. I think he'd kiss me at this part too, but instead he's just going to put the car in drive again. "Hey, Marie? You know, we're runnin' a little late. Do you wanna - "

The sign is very simple. It's very clear. 'No driving in the breakdown lane.' I'm sure it was put there for many reasons, not the least of which is the driver's own safety. Sure, I'd bet the legislature thought about the fact that people on their first date may need to utilize the breakdown lane to have important relationship conversations, but I'm sure they mostly thought - hey, if some dumbass went speeding down the breakdown lane and ran into a - surprise! - broken down car, they could really get hurt. Still, I would bet that the Connecticut State Legislature never enacted this particular law to try to spare irresponsible motorists from being skewered by adamantium claws.

"One second." What is the remaining life span of the idiot currently at the pointy end of Logan's claws? I'll take Road Signs and the People Who Ignore Them for four hundred, Alex. Oh, stop it, brain, it's not funny.

"Logan, I, um, could use your help here. I think my cut is bleeding." Well, it is now because I poked it a little. And because head wounds just bleed a lot. But a few drops of my blood will save many pints of Mr. Bad Driver's.

"Grrrrr." OK, growling and brandishing the claws *is* scary, but the guy is a wuss - he just soiled his pants - again. He'd already gone number one, but that was number two, for sure. That's not really what I was hoping to ever see on a first date with Logan. "You - stay put."

"Hey, let's not kill the guy, OK?" Via claw or excessive diarrhea

"Lemme see your head." It's just a little blood, sugar, and now that I see the scared-to-death look on your face, I really feel bad about poking it. "Dammit."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"We gotta getcha to a hospital. Now."

"It's not that bad."

"I ain't takin' any chances." Aw. That is kind of cute. But -

"We should wait for the police."

"Can hear the sirens a little ways off. I'll grab one of their patrol cars to getcha to some help. Jeep's totaled."

"I'll be just fine. It's just a little cut, really. The airbag deployed and my seat belt kicked in. I'm OK."

"Thank God you were wearin' that damn seat belt." And thank God you're a super-healing mutant who can ignore my oft-repeated auto safety advice and survive a second lifetime head-first trip through a windshield. Freaked the other guy out quite a bit to see Logan just stand up and shake it off, but he should be grateful that Logan's OK. My skin works a lot faster than Logan's claws, and believe me, I'd be every bit as homicidal as he is now if he hadn't just gotten up and shaken it off. "Too bad that asshole was wearin' his. Coulda rid the world of one more careless, stupid fuckhead."

"Logan, hush. He'll just poo in his pants again and he's already stinky enough." Plus, here come the police. They don't need to see you beating the hell out of the guy or shredding him with your claws. They put people in jail for that kind of thing.

"What happened here, sir?" I think I'd better field this one, Sergeant.

"We pulled over in the breakdown lane and this guy, he came up behind us and totally rear-ended us." Then he stumbled out of the car, the classic unhurt drunken driver, and then he screamed when he saw Logan and then he wet himself, and then - well, I'm sure the Sergeant can smell the rest for himself.

"She needs a hospital."

"Not really, I'm fine. You should probably check the other guy out. I'm OK." Darn. I think the police are siding with Logan on this one.

"I'll call for an ambulance. We'll have the paramedics check you out." Dammit. Well, at least this turned out to be a *memorable* first date..

"And so you're *sure* she's OK?"

"Yes." That poor paramedic is probably thinking 'yes, for the thousandth time, yes, please for the love of God, leave me alone!' but I think it's pretty sweet how concerned Logan is for me. Not that I enjoy scaring him, but it makes me feel really warm all over to know that he cares so much. "If she develops a headache, has any nausea, dizziness, or lightheadedness, get her to an emergency room right away, but I think she's fine. You're lucky he slammed on the brakes quite a bit before hitting you." Logan's glancing over at the other driver to make sure he knows just how lucky he is. "Take her home, get some rest."

Now - that's something I haven't thought about. We're minus one car and stranded in the middle of Connecticut. All of the options for getting home involve calling someone from the mansion to pick us up. You know, we already had the date pretty much ruined, I'd at least like to avoid being picked up by a lecturing Scott or a worried-and-eager-to-reexamine-me Hank. Sheesh.

"Yep. I'll take good care of her." Aw, again. "You still feelin' OK?"

"The cell phone's OK. I'll just call back to Westchester and - "

"Logan, let's not. Let's not, OK? I don't want to go home yet. We didn't get to have our date."

"I know, darlin', but I wantcha somewhere safe now, OK? We can go out on another date sometime."

"Sometime?" Hey, what happened to 'you're mine' and the whole dating deal we made just before the crash?

"Anytime." Whew. There he is - didn't change his mind. "But let's getcha back to Westchester tonight."

"OK, sugar, OK." I guess I shouldn't make him worry any more than I already have. But, still.. "I would've had a wonderful time, you know. I would've especially liked the good scotch you would've ordered and then let me have a sip of. But mostly I would've really liked sitting across from you and looking at you all night. It would've been a really good time."

Whoa - I think that's the tightest he's ever hugged me, and that's saying something. It's OK, sugar. I'm OK. We're going to be OK.

"All I'm saying is that I just don't possibly see how someone with your acute senses didn't notice motion in the rearview mirror, that's all."

It's even worse than I thought. Scott came, alone, and made Logan sit in the front instead of with me in the back. I know it might seem kind of silly, but when I'm hurt, or anything's wrong, Logan really, really likes having me in his line of sight. He's been looking over his shoulder at me the whole way back. Of course, Scott's constant monologue about Why Logan Should've Taken Better Care Of Me is the very worst part. I'm not loving the fact that he hasn't let me get a word in edgewise and I'm really *not* loving the fact that he asked Logan if I was OK - Logan, not me. Um, hello? I'm a person too, despite my pesky little lack of a Y chromosome. Didn't Jean teach him anything about feminism?

"I don't know how you missed that, and I don't even want to make a guess at what you were pulled over for in the first place. You were supposed to be taking her to a nice restaurant, not pulling over with her on the side of the road."

"You know, I knew something like this would happen." So much for me getting a word in edgewise in a reasonably polite manner. "I told the Professor that - "

"A-HEM. If you don't mind, I have something to say here." I'm getting the glare of death in the rearview mirror, but at least Scott stopped talking for a second. "We pulled over a second to discuss something, and I didn't see the car coming up in the rear view mirror either."

"Rogue, I wouldn't expect that you would. Logan, with his senses - "

"Are you saying that you're mad at him because he didn't anticipate that someone might illegally be driving in the breakdown lane and might hit us from behind?" Yes, that was sarcasm. Don't look so surprised.

"He was supposed to be looking out for you, Rogue, not - not trying to waylay you along some roadside." Ooooh - that's over the line, especially that smarmy tone he used. And look - Logan's wincing, actually wincing. Gee, thanks, Scott for making my boyfriend feel like crap. Nobody gets away with that, mister.

"You are such a big jerk." OK, not as impressive an insult as Logan would come up with, but, hey, I'm all discombobulated and I've had a head injury. "Don't give me that - waylay? Who the hell uses words like 'waylay'? There's been no laying of any kind, for your information, and we would've had a very nice evening if not for the accident. Don't give me 'waylay,' you - you jerk! I know you think you're my big brother, but right now, you're just being a pain the posterior. You know as well as I do, Scott Summers, that Logan would've avoided the whole accident if he could've and that he's taken very good care of me until you got here. I know that you don't like the idea of us dating, but we are, and I'll tell you something, mister - I'm still a teenager and I'm a southern lady to boot, and, sugar, that means I'm just contrary enough to want to date Logan all the more each and every time you complain about it or try to get a little dig in. You just think about that, Mr. Smarty Pants. And I'll tell you one more thing. I *was* raised a proper southern lady and I acted that way even when I was on my own for eight months before Logan found me." Or I found him. Whichever. I'm still mad, and I'm just going to go with it. "I realize you're a Yankee, and as such, you probably don't know any better, but implying that a lady would permit herself to be 'waylaid' on the roadside on a first date is just the kind of insult that still leads to duel challenges where I come from, bucko, and it might lead to a butt-kicking from the lady herself, if you don't apologize." Logan's just giving him the eyebrow, but I'm serious. "I mean it. I don't appreciate you making assumptions about me like that. Or about Logan. Just name me one time - one time when either one of us have ever acted in a way to make you think that."

I don't think I've ever seen Scott's jaw clench as much as I have tonight. "How about all those times he came on to my fiancee?"

"I flirted with her, so what?" OK, not the 'I've only ever loved Marie' response I would've liked, but not bad. "I've flirted with women from here to Dawson City. Don't mean nothin'."

"Why don't you ask Rogue if it means anything to her?" Oooh - that was a low blow. And Logan really looks - well, if he was still looking at me, I could tell you how he looks, but he's found something of sudden interest out the window. Great. Scooter, you are going to get it now.

"You know what means something to me? It means something to me that he's risked his life to save me. It means something to me that - whenever I come into a room, he moves to touch me. Do you know, Scott, in all the time I've been at the mansion, I can count the number of times you've touched me on one hand? It means something to me that he looks out for me, and that he's always been honest with me. It means something to me that when that car plowed into us, and sent him flying through the windshield, the first thing he did was get up and run back to me, before all the cuts on him had even started to heal up." Nothing to say to that, fearless leader? "You know what? I stand by my earlier assessment. You are a big jerk."

"I'm just trying to protect you, Rogue."

"You're just trying to get a little payback for the times that Logan did flirt with Jean. This doesn't have anything to do with me, not really. Telling yourself it does is what your conscience needs to give you permission to act like such a big jerk to Logan. It's really all about you and Jean, so don't give me that crap."

Judging by the white-knuckle grip he's got on the steering wheel and the way he just glued his eyes to the road, he won't say anything else for the rest of the trip. And neither will Logan, I can tell. That's great, just great. What a wonderful way to end our first date. God, my head hurts. All this yelling, and being in the back seat always gives me motion sickness. But of course, our Fearless Leader didn't take that into account, did he? Oh, no, it was just 'get in the back seat, Rogue, alone.' You know, I could really use a good stiff drink right now.

"Hey - your head hurt?"

Wonderful. Even better. Now I'm worrying Logan by rubbing at my temples to get rid of the tension headache. "It's nothing. It's just - I'm fine. It's just the argument, that's all."

"You look a little pale."

"No, no, I'm OK. I just want to go home. I just want some peace and quiet. That's all."

"Scooter - take the next exit. She's gotta go to an emergency room."

"Logan, it's just a headache and she said she'll be fine. I don't think this is the way to make it up to her that - "

"Would you just fuckin' do it? The paramedic said to get her to an emergency room right away if she had a headache." Now he looks mega-worried. Crap.

"I really think it's just the yelling and the fight, I really do. I mean, I always get a little motion sick riding in the back seat anyway, and - "

"You feel sick too?"

"Not really. I'm sure it's nothing." Brain, could you help me out here a little and stop me from doing anything else stupid? "I'm fine."

"Get off the next exit."

"You're goin'." You know, I've had just about enough of being told what to do for one night, even if it is coming from Logan and I know it's only out of concern. I'm - um, whoa. Really dizzy there. Really dizzy. "Rogue?" I should've added to my earlier diatribe that it means something to me that he never tells my secrets - like that one, my name. Because that really does mean a lot to me. He's always careful about that. "Rogue?" Why does he sound funny all of a sudden? You know, I think something might really be wrong..

"Right here." Whew. Waking up in a medical facility feeling all woozy does not bring back good memories, for either my inner Logan or my inner Erik. Glad to feel Logan holding my hand. Very comforting. Very non-nightmarish. "Just lie back, OK?"

"You're at Memorial Hospital. We're still in Connecticut. What's the last thing you remember, darlin'?"

I bet I'm smiling all silly - the 'darlin'' really does get me every time. "I remember thinking that Scott was a big jerk."

"You got a blood clot or somethin' in the wreck. Didn't show up until a while after and that's why you had the headache. You had a - a seizure or somethin' in the car and we brought you here."

"Don't move. They gotta keep you here, under observation for at least 24 hours. You got, ah, about twelve to go."

"In the waitin' room. When you were in and out, you kept on swearin' at him and tellin' the nurses you were gonna challenge him to a duel and then kick his ass."

"Not for a while, huh? Just lay back, baby." OK. Laying back. Let me just get my bearings a bit here. I'm - um, why am I all covered in gauze and surgical gloves? And, apparently, paper booties of some sort. "I hadta tell 'em 'bout your skin. Didn't wanna have you get someone else in your head by mistake. They got a little crazy 'bout it. As soon as the twenty-four hours are up, we're outta here." That little growl tells me this hasn't exactly been a fun time for Logan. In fact, it's got to be awful. He hates anything medical, and a human hospital, with people all over me, poking and prodding me, and wrapping me up like a mummy - that can't possibly be making it any better.

"Just fine. Don't you worry 'bout me."

"You've got to hate it here."

"Not goin' anywhere else. Not until you're outta the woods. Dammit, Marie, I wish you woulda let me take you to a hospital right away."

"Next time, I won't argue."

"Damn right." God, he really does look haggard. Spent. Totaled. Just like our poor little jeep. "Wanna tell you somethin'. It's important. You know, you scared the shit outta me, Marie." I know, sugar, I know. "What Scooter said, back in the car, what he said 'bout what me flirtin' with other women means to you - that's why you think those things you said before, the thing you said 'bout maybe I don't wanna be with ya 'cause of your skin or somethin' 'bout you. That's why you think it, dontcha?"

"You're a bad liar, darlin'."

Not exactly. "It's not that you flirt with other women. It's that I look at those other women, and then I look at me, and I think - I can't measure up. You've been with a lot of really beautiful women, touchable women, experienced women, women who - "

"Who I never woulda put on nice clothes and damn uncomfortable shoes just to have some hope of her lookin' at me like I was handsome. Women who I never woulda lifted a finger to help out if it wasn't convenient for me. Women who were afraid of the claws, or worse, afraid of me. Women who didn't give a shit 'bout me beyond what they could get outta me. You're the one woman who could get absolutely anythin' outta me that you wanted, but you never use that. Never, Marie. You're always so damn good to me."

"If getting you almost killed a few times is being good to you, I really don't think I want to meet any of those other women."

"Hmph. Lemme tell ya somethin'. You measure up. You're the yardstick, OK? You can stop thinkin' all that crap."

"Only if you make me the same deal, sugar. You can't think that what Scott said back in the car was true, or how I think about you. You have to cut me the same deal."

"Deal." I honestly don't know how anyone - even Scott - can really think Logan's a bad guy. Well, OK, maybe I can see how some people might think that, if they don't know him. But there's no way anyone could ever think he'd treat me badly or try to 'waylay' me. All you have to do is take one look at him at moments like right now. "Just lay back and close your eyes a while, darlin'. Get some rest."

Mmm. Nice and comfy. Just going to take a quick peek and see where we are. Hey, I don't think we're moving and that sign - it says 'Connecticut Shell.' "Good Lord, are we still in Connecticut? It's not that big of a state." I mean it. I even took a nap, and I feel rested, so it couldn't have been that short of a nap. How can we possibly still be in this state? Is there no escape?

"We're almost at the border. Logan wanted to stop and get a few things before we crossed back into New York." Ugh. Scott. I've really got to learn to open my eyes before I start talking. I would've been just as happy to keep up the silent treatment. "How are you feeling?"

"Look, Rogue, I want to apologize for before."

"For what?" Because I'm sure it's not for hurting Logan's feelings or being an ass toward him in general, and those are really the only things I want an apology for. Well, those things plus thinking I'm some kind of roadside hussy. I still think we should go ten paces with pistols for that.

"For making you upset. For not realizing that you needed help right away." Hmph. Classic Scooter. The non-apology apology, an apology for things that aren't really what he's done wrong and that, gosh-darn it, aren't really his fault, but ones that he can look good for feeling bad about. He really should've been a lawyer or something. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"No." I really, honestly can't think of a thing that wouldn't either start the fight all over again or that would constitute meaningful conversation. I'm tired, I've had a hellacious few days, and I want to go home.

"OK, then." Wait - he said Logan wanted to stop for a few things - what things? Logan - he's not a stopper for things. "You know, I know you're mad at me - "

"And I have a right to be." Furthermore, shut up. I was trying to think.

"I'm just looking out for you, Rogue."

"We've had this conversation, Scott." That's the polite way to say 'shut up.' I really don't want to get into all this again.

"Right." Whew. The return of Logan. I can see him in the mirror. Logan, with a smirk and something - it looks like something large and rectangular hidden underneath his shirt. Heh. Scott started when he opened the back to put whatever it was in there, and I won't even comment on the irony of Scott failing to see him coming in the rearview mirror. "Are we set, then?"

"Yep. How're you feelin', darlin'?" God help me, he's been wearing the same clothes for about 48 hours, he's all rumpled and covered in dried blood from the accident, and he's got some serious stubble going, but he's still so darn sexy. Especially when he says 'darlin'.'

Date number two with Logan. Date two is much less ambitious in its plan. It includes me heading over to Logan's room to watch a movie and have some popcorn. The only dangerous moments were using the ancient popper in the kitchen, one that is the very definition of 'fire hazard,' and the remote possibility of me accidentally burning myself with the butter I melted in the microwave. But, having successfully navigated those two hazards, I feel confident in saying that date two will go much more smoothly than date one. How can it not, right?

"Hello, Rogue." Scott. You know, I could do without the universe mocking me every *single* time I do that.

"Hello." I can be polite. I am a southern lady, after all.

"Are you busy?" Now, I'd bet that he knows very well that I'm on my way to Logan's. I'm sure someone told him that, and besides, it's pretty clear that I'm doing *something*, and ergo, am busy. I mean, I'm carrying popcorn and a videocassette, so I'm obviously going to be busy watching a movie momentarily. Logan's right. Scooter is irritating. But I can still be polite.

"Rogue, wait - please." Hmph. OK, fine, but don't give me any more crap here, Scott. You've reached your lifetime limit. "If you're going to date Logan, I can't stop you." That's definitely going to get him the raised eyebrow. "I mean, I understand that you have to make your own mistakes." Not much better. "But, Rogue, promise me something, OK?"

"You're not really in a position to demand promises from me. I've got to go. Excuse me."

"Rogue - please." Grabbing my arm - must be serious. OK, that'll get you another second or two. "Whatever happens between you, just promise me, please, that you won't - that you won't let him use this last time to pressure you into anything."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know - I know you always say he never asks for anything in return for touching you and giving you his powers, but, Rogue, I know you probably feel some sense of obligation to - "

"Scott, back up. I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about this last time that he touched you. I'm sure he's painting it as his heroic little act, made necessary because I just didn't get you to help fast enough, but, really, if he'd followed his instincts and taken you to the hospital in the first place, it wouldn't have been necessary. Just don't let your sense of obligation to him make you feel indebted to - to give him things you might not be ready to otherwise." Oh, God. Oh, God. "Um, Rogue?" Oh my God. He touched me. He had to touch me. Oh dear God. "Rogue, you look a little pale."

"You'll promise me, then?"

"You'll promise me that you won't feel obligated because of this last time?"

Oh God, if the situation weren't so serious, I'd laugh right in his face. But as it is, I think this little barb will do. "He never told me, Scott. He never said a word. I never knew that he touched me; I already have him up there and it wasn't any different to me. Logan never even told me. I'm hearing it from you for the first time." Now he's looking a little pale. Well, good. Serves you right, mister. "So maybe the next time you're feeling all self-righteous and decide to shoot your mouth off at Logan, you should remember that, hmm? I've got to go. Excuse me."

"Hey. Popcorn smells good."

"Why didn't you tell me you touched me back there?" Hey, I'm not small-talk-girl. I'm pretty much cut-to-the-chase girl. And a big, heaving sigh isn't an answer, sugar.

"C'mere. Sit down." Oh God, do you know what I just noticed? He's wearing black slacks and a nice black v-neck sweater, with all his curly little chest hairs sticking out of it. No shoes this time, he's barefoot, but he's got the belt and everything else. He dressed up for me. Again. For date two. For movies in his room. "I didn't want ya to get all worried over it, but I shoulda known that Scooter couldn't keep his mouth shut."

"You told him not to tell me?" Because if he went ahead and did it anyway, he really is going to get some buckshot in the behind.

"Nah. Didn't say nothin'. Tellin' him not to tell ya woulda just made him do it all the faster. Was hopin' he'd just skip over it, you know, in conversation, but I guess not."

"Why didn't you tell me, Logan?"

"C'mere." OK, cuddling up to you is always a good thing, but I really do want an answer. "I know you worry 'bout it. I know you don't like hurtin' me. Darlin', I really know that. I don't like hurtin' you either, and I knew you'd hurt, no matter how much I toldya that it was OK, that I don't mind doin' it. Hell, I'm so damn glad I can do it. I woulda lost ya three times now."