My Momma is a funny woman. If I was sad, she'd get me a cup of tea. If I broke my leg, she'd get me a cup of tea. I'm sure if I'd stuck around long enough, she'd have given me a cup of tea after suckin' David dry too. I bet he gets a cup of tea from her when he wakes up. It's not just Momma though, it's everyone. If they can't handle something, if something's wrong, it's always to the tea. I can never understand it.
I'm sitting here in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a piping hot coffee mug, and I can't believe the fucking week I've had. I look up at Wolverine, his eyes half-lidded and weary, his hands also clasping a mug of the all-healing brew we always seem to blame on the British. I'm thinking about the things that have happened, the huge mindfuck of events that's just left me completely brain-dead and zonked, and I wonder -- why am I here, sipping this hot beverage like it's a nice summer afternoon and I'm talking to my mother?
Hank insisted on patching up Logan, smothering him in plasters and gauze. He's sitting there probably totally healed, with white patches all over his hands and head, tainted with the deep red of his blood. His blood is an amazing colour. Just -- very powerful, reaching. I guess that's a silly thing to say about blood.
See a few days ago, Sabretooth was curled up on our front doorstep like a lost kitten, all beaten up and shit. I mean really really in a bad shape. My first instinct was to kick him off the step and thwap him over the head with a spade to put him out of his misery. Kinda startled me, thinkin' so violently when I remember bein' horrified to see Logan in that damned cage. Then when Logan said exactly what I was thinkin', I realised "Shit Marie, you're startin' to think like him now?"
I don't know why, I had an inherent distrust for this guy deep within my bones. And I saw that distrust in Logan's hazel eyes, flashin' and fierce.
Of course the Professor started on about how we all gotta look after everyone, even our enemies whether they be human or otherwise. Logan wasn't a stupid man. Rugged, impulsive, but not stupid. He'd helped Senator Kelly when he turned up in a bad state, so he wasn't one to hold grudges. No, he seriously didn't want Sabretooth here.
And that's when it all started.
They brought Sabretooth in, and the guy was passed out. I had to marvel at the very structure of the guy. He was damned huge, with these hands that spanned my shoulders when they were stretched out, and he towered over Scott, I'd seen it. Scott was no shorty.
Anyways, Jean brought him in, layin' him down in the infirmary and gettin' to work on him. Apparently he'd been beaten up pretty bad, with some deep cuts and lascerations. I snort with disbelief, at the exact same time as Logan, and everyone stares at me.
That starts freaking me out. That I'm having these automatic reactions all of a sudden to a guy I don't even know, apart from being herded about by him up the Statue of Liberty. I cut off those memories, concentrating on the situation at hand.
One thing I get away with that the other kids don't, is taggin' along. Dunno why the Professor lets me in on this stuff. Something in his eyes is sad. Maybe he knows I'm not much use for anything but fightin' evil, cause o' my skin. I mean tryin' to be out in normal public was a real stress on me. Like walkin' on a tightrope.
The next thing that worries me is the look in Logan's eyes as Jean is fixin' up Sabretooth. For once, it's not lusty (God he can be such a slut, starin' at her then goin' doe-eyed at me) and it's actually angry. He gnashes his teeth at her.
"Why the hell are we fixing this dick up?"
"We help everyone Logan," she said, injecting something into the unconscious beast-man's arm. "We helped you."
A low growl grew in Logan's throat and he stalked out. Not far though, I could sense him pacing on the other side of the door. Plus he smashed something out in the corridor, I could hear it. And to freak me out even more, I completely understood what he felt. That shuddering rage was living in my insides too, and I had never felt the like in my short life. I wanted to rip this guy apart limb from limb. He hurt Logan, I knew he did, I wanted him to pay. Stupid thing was -- how the fuck would I know? The memories I gained from him are cloudy at best. The impulses however, are crystal clear. That can scare me, and comfort me. It's an odd combination I'm learning to live with.
"He might have a point for once," I feel myself say, the rage rising up in me. "He's tried to kill Logan. He'd kill me in an instant. And you."
Jean looks up at me, her brown eyes placid. Those damned beautiful eyes that I could feel myself swooning at days after Logan entered my mind. I hated that.
"Do I have to say it all again?" she said. "You should know better, Rogue."
I let a derisive smile flit to my face. She never says my real name. Like she's scared to or something. "He'll just try to destroy us," I said.
Jean frowned now, looking a bit disturbed. "Well, we'll just have to give him the benefit of the doubt."
"Turn the other cheek?" I raise a brow. "That's cool if you wanna get pinned to a tree, Ah s'pose."
She just sighed now. "Do I have to send you out too?"
I shrug. "If you want."
Shaking her head she got to work at checking Sabretooth's blood pressure with a black bobbling sphigmanomometer that looked more like a crazy kid's toy than a serious doctor's instrument.
"Ah get the message," I sighed. "Ah'm leavin'."
She gave a small smile, pumping the rubber sac of the sphigmathingy. "Go check up on Logan, make sure he hasn't broken anything expensive?"
I pouted. "Why is it every time Logan has a hissy-fit you always send me out to calm him down?"
Jean looked up, an amused quirk to her lips. "Well, who do you suggest we send out -- Scott?"
"Yeah, whatever," I mumbled in my embarrassingly thick accent. She just smiled at me all affectionately and I burned up with even more embarrassment as I plodded out of the infirmary. I saw the heavy leather uniform cases down an offshooting corridor as I'd walked past. All the glass doors were broken, and there were three precise gouges that ran all the way down the corridor walls... down, back, and to the elevator. I sighed at the empty but damaged corridors, mumbling to myself.
"Logan, you know the Professor is just gonna take away your cigar privileges."
That also freaked me out. I had hankered for cigars for a while. Unlike Logan, I don't heal instantly, so I stayed away from 'em. He'd stared at me funny when he had one wedged in his mouth and I'd looked at it longingly.
"You even pick one up and I'll kick your ass," he'd say.
Needless to say, I've not tempted the thought again. Still doesn't stop the odd craving every now and again. I follow the trail of destruction (rather minimal this time really -- he stayed away from the priceless paintings and antique vases. Obviously he was short on cigars and beer) to a honed but hulking shape ripping up perfectly manicured grass in the garden. I approached him carefully, sinking down onto the grass, a couple of metres in front of him, just watching him rip and dig and growl. Shit, he was really mad.
Finally, after a moment of rage, his hazel eyes flashed up at me and he stopped. The sod that caked his hands, the grass that lay littered on his shoulders sat there not unlike the snow I'd first met him in, but it looked infinitely more ridiculous. He looked like a big stupid dog going nuts in the garden after a bone. I wanted to laugh, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to push that "Always protect me" promise he made. Not when he was in this mood. He looked over himself, a wry look on his features and cocking an expressive brow, he held out his arms as the haze of his rage receded.
"I look really stupid, don't I?"
I didn't smile, I didn't frown. I just let my lips twitch in a look of empathy. "Yeah."
His hopeful eyes dimmed a bit and he sank.
"But I know what you're feelin'."
He narrowed his eyes then, as if he wanted to believe me, but needed more to go on. I gave it to him.
"It's not stupid to feel betrayed, Logan," I said. "You gave your trust to these people, and believe me, Ah know how hard that can be."
He looked down to his muddy hands, muscles in his forearm clenching a little.
"They're suddenly helping someone you saw hurt them," I continued, giddying in the effect of my smooth voice on his obviously prickling nerves. "And you're scared they're in for a disappointment."
"Not scared," he said, voice a low growl. "I know they're in for one."
I felt a dent touch my brow and I nodded. "I do too, Logan... I just wish it weren't true."
He looked at me a long moment, and I think he did know. And looking at the flit of colour in his eyes, the tense of his lips, he was well aware that I understood, that hidin' shit from me was pretty much useless. I watched him stand, giving his arms one rough shake before trudging off, mud slinging into the gouges in the lawn, his eyes catching sight of the green snake of hose and began following it to its end, probably to wash his hands with. I did laugh this time.
"I'm gonna get this shit off my hands," he grunted.
Yeah, see, that was scary. I knew him too well. Sharing a psyche with Logan was one interesting experience, I'll tell you that for nothing.
For the next two days, Logan barely left Sabretooth's side, and it wasn't for touchy-feely-fuzzy-love reasons. His eyes were sharp and unforgiving, as if he were just sitting, waiting for an excuse to slit the bastard's throat. I knew that's exactly what he was doing. The only time he wasn't in there, was when the Professor was having private sessions with the dude, probing his mind, trying to help him free his "better traits" and take a step towards redemption. Logan said the perfect step to redemption for Sabretooth was a bullet between the eyes. Needless to say, Xavier told him to piss off till he was finished. Not in so many words but you know what I mean.
Timing was something this asshole mustah had down pat, cause the next day was the day of Magneto's trial. I mean they locked him up an' all, but they had to give him a full trial and stuff. Ya'd never guess who was payin' for his defence...that's right. The new reformed "Senator Kelly."
Everyone was goin' off to see the trial, all the X-Men that is, except me and the young'uns, and Wolverine. He stayed behind, next to Sabretooth, eyes fixed to the downed beast-man. I think I was supposed to stay behind to watch him. They knew I was the only one that could stop either of them. Ironic, huh? Little Ol' Marie, their line of defense.
S'anyways. Borin' night. I'm tellin' you -- it's the kids watchin' Friends on the TV, Jubilee howling about how much she hates Rachel, Kitty screamin' for her to shut up cause she's trying to listen to what's being said, and Bobby and John grunting over the foosball table. Yeah, everything's normal there, right? Yeah.
So I go down to keep an eye on Wolverine for a minute. Not the most labourous task, and if I'm completely honest with myself, a guilty pleasure I'd gotten to enjoy the past two days. I'd just stare at his neck and lips, sometimes his eyes. I know I know, he's too old, I'm too young. Tell my loins that -- they don't care. Sometimes I dare to think neither do Logan's, but we've been over this -- he's a complete slut sometimes.
To my surprise, he wasn't there. No, I'm talking REAL surprise here. He hadn't left Sabretooth's side all day. So I sat there in the chair he'd been sitting in. Still warm, and I could still smell his spicy cologne. For a moment, our scents kinda mingled, where he'd been and I now sat. I wallowed in that sensation a moment, of strawberries and hot spicy aftershave, totally immersing myself in it. Of course being so caught up in sniffin' out Logan I never noticed the sheet-swathed hand as wide as my shoulders that shot up out of its restraints, breaking them like paper. I did notice it encircling my neck and pinning me up against the wall, the other hand seeking out my gloved arms and pinning them to my chest. He grinned, teeth bear and pointing.
"Don't want you touchin' what you shouldn't, now!"
His hand tightened around my throat. I'd often seen people being strangled in the movies, on TV. You think that maybe it'd be like holdin' your breath. Nuh-uh. I learnt pretty fast it was like something was gonna break, and pressure, so much pressure. Sharp pain stabbed through my neck as his hands enclosed around my larynx. Even if the windpipe is lined with gristle to keep it open, it was bendin' closed, my tongue falling back and betraying me. I kicked, struggled, tryin' desperately to remember self defense stuff. All the use it did me. My body screamed for breath and panic ripped through me as my eyesight began to grow fuzzy and my fingers began to tingle. And I thought So this is it. I am going to die.
"I'm gonna kill you all," he said. "One by one, usin' only three claws."
It was a really odd thing to say, but it all sank in. The guy was tryin' to frame Logan. With what little strength I had, I drew up some spit, and with a jerk of my head I let it fly...er...kinda. It went for about two inches then dripped harmlessly on Sabretooth's sleeve. He wrinkled a felinesque nose and tilted his head.
"That's grotty."
I tried to kick -- and was really close to passing out. Then I heard the most amazing sound in my life. It's crazy I know, finding something like this so awe-inspiring, but you never know what it is to be a living breathing animal till something like this happens.
There was a roar of complete and utter berserker rage. A rough, throat-stripping roar and a clean "shink" of metal against metal, popping through skin. And that anger, rage, fury and awesome display of power was all for me. Okay, so it was ego coming in to play, but it was also awe at what a superb effective machine Logan could be. I saw the flash of his blades and relief swept through me as the hands grabbed the towering shoulders, ripping the wayward mutant away from me. He didn't let go of my neck and I tumbled down on top of them. I felt kinda silly in the writhing jerking pile of mutant bodies, and I could see Wolverine scrambling underneath us, waiting for me to be clear before he let loose with his claws. I growled, fingers digging into the barrel chest I was stuck on top of. And I did the first thing that occurred to me.
I tickled the bastard. I yanked at his fur, I scratched and ripped and dug. He just -- laughed at me! Convenient distraction though, because as I staggered away, Sabretooth giggling inanely at me, long shiny claws punched deep into the ribcage, the eyes of Sabretooth glazing over.
Wolverine looked up at me from under Sabretooth as I wriggled off the guy, feeling a bit sick inside at the sight of those claws so deep in somebody. His eyes were wide, wild with worry. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
"Ah'm fine," I breathed, running my hand over my throat. "I'm probably gonna get some major bruisin' though."
He grimaced, it was almost a smile, and rolled the unconscious Sabretooth off him. "You can say it's a hickey."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Very funny, Logan."
"Sorry," he growled, and with a grunt he buried his claws back into Sabretooth after crouching over him. I looked horrified.
"Logan -- Ah think he's dead!"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I threw this fuck off the top of the Statue of Liberty onto a patrol boat. He lived. He's a superhealer like me, Rogue."
I nodded, tilting my head at the guy. "What're you gonna do, sit there with your claws in 'im till everyone comes home?"
He pressed his lips together. "You got a point."
I smiled grimly and nodded.
"Back!"
"Uhuh..."
"Back back back -- stop!"
I winced, grappling the huge hulking weight of the unconscious Sabretooth in my arms, his wrists crossed and tied together over his chest. Logan took the most of the weight through the man's shoulders, and he lifted the body, whilst I lugged the legs.
"Man, Logan, this guy reeks!"
Logan flared his nostrils at me pointedly. "Tell me something I don't know."
I let go as Logan plomped him down onto a medical bed, his claws still dug into the bigger man's ribs. He grit his teeth, looking at the situation that presented itself. Tilting his head, he regarded it, and I almost felt amused at the deep look of concentration that fell across his face. He glanced up at me and sighed.
"You might wanna turn away."
I nodded, turning my head and closing my eyes. To be honest, I was a little worried, my heart freezing. I knew what he was going to do. It was something I couldn't watch, and I knew it was also something Sabretooth wouldn't be recovering from any time soon. I heard his claws slide out of the ribcage of the downed man with a muffled shink, and silence. A long silence, calculating and tense. I heard his arms shift suddenly, and I squinted my eyes hard.
"LOGAN!"
I jumped and whirled about, he did too, our eyes wide and catching the two figures in the doorway.
"Jean!" I stammered, instinctively stepping back to Logan. "Professor..."
The Professor's thin lips were pursed together, his usually bright blue eyes darkened in disappointment. I hated having that look directed at me. I'd come to love this man dearly, and that dour look of disatisfaction -- it ripped my heart out. I slumped, looking to Logan, who just had a grimace of determination on his face, his bloody claws in the air.
"Don't try to stop me," he said. "I'm just givin' this bastard what he deserves!"
"He deserves to die?" snapped Xavier.
"He was gonna kill me!"
The resounding yell echoed off the walls, and I could hardly believe it came from me. It stilled Xavier, his lips paused mid-word. I stepped forward, shakily I admit, yanking the scarf from around my neck, and tilting my head up. I could smell Jean drawing closer, then glancing down over my cheeks I could see her face descend into a frown. She walked over to her examination table, digging around in her drawers.
"Every second we wait, this guy is healing," growled Logan.
"With those deep gashes, I'm sure we have plenty of time," Jean said.
"We don't."
She glared up at him, then snapping on the gloves she retrieved she walked over to me, tiltin' up my head again. She took a careful breath in, I could feel the air rushin' against my neck.
"Well, she does seem to have some bruising coming up..." She pushed around my throat and I hissed in pain.
"Watch it, Jean!"
"Sorry," she said. She frowned, then looked to the Professor. "This happened in the last fifteen minutes. Logan -- come here."
With a grimace he did so, and she took his hand, holding it up to my neck. I froze, feeling the warmth radiate from his palm. His eyes were wide, kinda soft. So greeny-brown. I kinda let myself get lost in them for a moment. I just gazed at him as Jean spoke to the Professor.
"See, Logan's hands are too small for these marks. It was definitely Sabretooth."
Logan's lips were tense as he gazed back at me, a strange look in his eyes. His nostril flared, and I knew he'd picked something up. I felt it too, dunno how, but as I saw something move in the corner of my eyes, all speech failed me. My jaw hung open, waggling as I squeaked lightly.
"Luh luh luh--"
*SHINK*
I slammed shut my eyes as Logan's arm whipped behind him, and as a sickening *splatch* followed I knew what had happened. Easing open an eye, I felt my insides shudder.
Sabretooth was impaled on Logan's claws, bent over. I saw Logan gnash his teeth, and he yanked up his arm, the *splatch* of before stretching into a *squelch*, blood overflowing from the wound and splashing on the floor. I gasped and jumped back.
"Logan!" barked the Professor. "Stop!"
"Not this time," snarled Logan in a breathy tone. "Not after nearly killing Marie."
"I said STOP!"
A tense pause filled the room, and I could see Logan's muscles quivering as he held the claws inside of Sabretooth. With a roar he pushed the hulk of a man away from him, making sure his claws did some damage on the way out. Sabretooth collapsed against the wall of the infirmary, and being completely unconscious and mortally wounded, slid down the wall onto his back, leaving a rather interesting three-dashed pattern on the wall. Jean rushed forward, and I shook my head, disbelief filling me.
What would it take for these people to realise what bad news Sabretooth was?
"Logan."
There was a crisp control to that voice that made Logan stop dead in his tracks.
"What you have done is inexcusable."
I glared at the Professor now, anger welling up within me. I stepped forward, pointing to Sabretooth.
"That son of a bitch was going to hurt the other students, Professor!" I let a lip curl in anger. "What's more important? This bastard who's hurt and hurt and hurt without any remorse, or those kids in there just tryin' to give life a go?!"
The wrinkle of anger and determination in the Professor's brow grew deeper, and he didn't move. I could feel Logan's shocked eyes on me. I don't think he realised how much of him was in my head. If there was any doubt before, it was obliterated now.
"I am -- very disappointed," Xavier said. "But I understand. Those memories inside of you, they were created in bias, Rogue. Logan's point of view is that bias."
That wild defensiveness flashed in me and I clenched my fists. I could sense Logan's peaking anger.
"I trust Logan," I said, evenly. "With my life. Seein' as Blondie over here was goin' to rip me to ribbons a moment ago, I think it's a bias I can live with believin' in."
"Why are you tryin' to protect him?" Logan said suddenly to Xavier.
Professor Xavier glared up at him, his lips firm. "Because his psyche, his mind...it reminds me very much of you."
Logan's eyes widened and I think he was offended.
"He has memories that very well could be a key to your past."
Logan's eyes lidded suddenly, and he clenched his fists. "If it's my bad memories, or the lives of those kids -- I'll choose the kids anyday."
I tried incredibly hard not to swoon. He kinda looked at me funny as I sighed.
"Logan -- perhaps it's best if you stay in your room for the time being."
It was then a laugh burst out of me. I don't know why, I just tipped my head back and laughter just fell outta me. I couldn't believe it, I couldn't fucking believe it.
Xavier paused, a deep worry in his brow. "Perhaps you too, Rogue."
"Whut for?"
He gave me a soft smile. "I'd prefer you and Logan didn't have to deal with Sabretooth. I can see it's deeply traumatic for the both of you."
I nodded and looked to Logan, who just seemed incredibly worried for me. Well, he didn't have to be worried for me. Mostly Jean -- she was alone in the room with the superhealing mutant guy. Somehow I don't know if the multiple hari-kiri slicin' bode well for him, though. We'd saved the school for the time being. I hoped.
I spent all of five minutes in my room before I got bored and sought out Logan's. I loped down the hallway, imitatin' him to a point, a grin of excitement growing on my features. I had to wonder when the hell I got so feral. It was just so much fun, and it shocked Logan. I loved seein' that look of surprise on his face. It usually calmed to a growly look that just got me giddy. Of course then I could just turn around, wiggle a hip, and grin, and he'd be just as useless afterwards.
"Rogue! What're you doing?!"
I jumped a mile in the air, bad swears fallin' from my lips. I turned, seeing a rather shocked-lookin' Bobby.
"Hi," I smiled thinly.
"I heard about what happened with that Sabretooth guy," he said, his voice almost squeakin'. "Are you okay?"
I shrugged, cocking a lip. "Yeah I'm fine."
He smiled, nodding with some relief. "Good."
I nodded.
"So um -- aren't you supposed to be staying in your room?"
I gave another thin smile. "Yes. Yes I am."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're gonna get in trouble you know."
"Not if no one tells anyone that I've been out," I said pointedly.
He sighed. "Sure. Where you off to?"
I froze. He probably wouldn't be so genial if he knew I was off to annoy Logan for a while. I smiled brightly now. "The little girls' supplies closet!"
He blanched, a lost smile on his face. "Oh -- okay...uh...I'll let you get to it then."
"Thanks."
He kinda hurried off, and so did I, right in the direction of Logan's room.
"Rogue!"
I whirled about, anger bubbling in me. Bobby stood there, that blank look on his face again.
"The ladies' supplies closet is um -- that way." He was pointing in the other direction.
"Ah know."
He nodded, and I went in the direction of Logan's room anyway. Gawd, the guy was such a geek sometimes. I snuck up the hallway, letting my feet pad silently, hands skimming the wall. I grew very slow and still as I reached his door, crouching and holding my breath. I let my hand reach out silently, a thrill in me as I thought that he could be just lying there, and I could surprise him.
*CLA-CHUNK*
The door swung open abruptly and my heart nearly burst in my chest, my legs going AWOL underneath me and scampering till I fell on my butt. Great. Logan stood in the doorway, cocking a brow at me, an amused smirk on his face.
"Girls' deoderant is one of the most potent unnatural smells that exist. Did you know that?"
I shook my head. He reached a hand down, and I took it, letting his easy strength pull me up to him. Dang, he was so dreamy. Dropping my hand he turned, plodding into his room, letting me close the door behind us. He just sat on his bed, picked up the newspaper and wedged a cigar he'd obviously been smoking back between his teeth. I watched his lips wrap around it, and mentally berated myself again. I was so gone on this guy, it was scarin' me. I sat down on the edge of the bed, fidgeting. He didn't ask me what I was doing here. He didn't even ask me how I was. He just read the stupid newspaper. I frowned, an impatience growing within me. I risked my neck getting here, and even blew off Bobby so I could spend some time with a fellow inmate, and he ignores me completely.
I traced the contours of my glove for a while, watching the shine of the brown satin in the dim lamplight, but it soon got boring. I stared past my splayed fingers, watching the smoke waft up from behind the wall of newspaper.
"What're you reading?"
"The newspaper."
There's a news flash. I pulled off my gloves and looked over my hands. My nails were growing longer now they were shrouded in the gloves constantly. With a lot of embarrassment I noticed a bit of dinner under one nail. I picked at it, a light flicking noise filling the silence.
"Stop that."
I glanced up, seeing one of Wolverine's eyes peering over the edge of the paper. I stopped, pulling on my gloves again, watching him as he pulled up the newspaper once more. I let my gaze wander around the room, taking in the scenery with some dull boredom. The need to spice up this little visit was rustling in my stomach, and went ballistic when I spotted the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
I slid to my feet, striding over to the mirror, and with deliberate and languourous movements, I pulled off my sweater. I glanced to him in the corner of my eyes -- no nothing yet. I pulled off my tight baby-tee, leaving me with the thin stretchy singlet underneath it that didn't hide much. I pouted, stretching my body and tiptoeing in the mirror. I lifted the hem of the singlet, and stuck out my belly, tilting my head and regarding the sight before me. Well, I was a streamlined little thing, and I let inches and inches of my midriff show. It was then I heard the paper rustle.
"What're you doing?"
I pouted thoughtfully at him, tilting my head. "Logan -- do you think I've put on weight?"
One brow lifted to meet a cocked one and he shook his head with wide shellshocked eyes. "No, Marie. I don't."
I frowned, plodding over to him and lifting my singlet practically in his face. "Are you sure?"
I worked so hard to hide the frantic giggles welling up inside of me when he glared up at me like I was completely insane. The laughs were on the brink when he crossed his legs uncomfortably in the bed. Then they died, and I got a little hot under the -- well, I had no collar. So it was hot under the singlet, I suppose.
"Marie, I'm sure. You have not gained a pound."
He looked back to the paper. I pursed my lips. This wasn't going to be easy.
"Shift up," I said, easing his heavy shoulders forward with a gloved hand. He glared at me again, looking rather puzzled.
"What are you doing?"
"You're tense," I said, kneeling behind him, his back between my legs. "I'm gonna give you a massage."
Not the subtlest come on I know, but this guy was really dense. Then I kinda startled myself -- since when was this me coming on to him? It was like mah hormones made the decision before I did. I blushed brightly, then grinned. Well, while I was here...
"I don't need a massage," he grunted, sitting forward anyway.
"Yes you do," I said. "After all the fuss tonight, I think you deserve one."
He was still tense, and he looked back at me, a green eye glinting with dryness.
"Look," I said, planting my hands on my hips, kind of amused that his face was just about at the level of my breasts. "I used to give mah Poppa a massage all the time when I was younger. Now stop bein' a baby and relax!"
I forced his head forward, secretly revelling in the scratchiness of his stubble against my gloves, and began kneading his shoulders thoroughly. He was silent a moment, till he grunted.
"You think I'm your Poppa?"
Now I had to giggle. "Hardly. My Poppa don't have your ass."
Shit. He glared at me, and I blushed wildly. All I could breath was--
"Your trait. Trait from you. Your fault."
He gave an uncomfortable nod and looked back to the paper. It took a minute or two before he relaxed into the massage, but it worked like a dream. After a little while, I was layin' against the bedhead, huge fluffy pillows cushioning me, hands roamin' all over Logan's chest and shoulders whilst he read the paper, layin' against me, my legs splayed either side of him. His hand flicked and the paper went flying onto the floor. I barely registered it, I just gazed at the ceiling, complete serenity taking me.
For some awful reason, my brain didn't let me keep serenity. If ever I was happy, the reality of who I was would come back to haunt me. It was always at these moments I'd think of the woman I'd accidently absorbed a few months back. Logan had only been back about three months himself, and now I suddenly had this self-crisis of some loony mutant bird in my head. Sometimes she popped out, and I'd display some of her tendencies. It scared people, but when I was happy, she'd be dead. Right now, she was at peace within me. I think she appreciated having some happiness to digest.
I looked down to Logan, who just lay against me. I saw his arm dig underneath him, then behind me, and I felt something pull. I sat up a bit, and he did too, and he pulled out -- a pillow? He regarded it a long moment, a glint in those hazel eyes that alerted me. So I did what any self-respecting young woman in my situation would do.
I grabbed my own pillow and thwapped him fair across the side of the head.
"OOPH!"
Of course, I'm not any self-respectin' young woman. He went flying into the wall and there was a resoundin' crack.
"Logan!"
I jumped off the bed, runnin' over to him, jiggling his shoulder. He lay on the ground, slumped, his eyes blinkin' all funny.
"It's okay, it's okay," he grunted, rolling forward stiffly. "It was the wall, not me."
Surely enough as he came forward, a lighter-coloured crack had splintered the wood-panelled wall. I swore under my breath, smacking my forehead.
"Holy shit," I sighed. "The Professor is really going to KILL me!"
"It was an accident," he said. "It happened two days from now, when you fell over getting me milk."
I looked up to him, meeting his eyes. He was smiling with them, a cheeky look on his features that made this lightly aged man look about as young as me. I grinned suddenly, and with a *whoosh* a white wall of pillow slammed into my head, tumbling me over. I fell over onto the ground, giggling wildly.
"Rogue, 1, Wolverine, 1."
"You're gonna pay for that, Logan," I drawled, gripping my own pillow and jumping to my feet.
We stalked each other in circles, lips tense and grinning, eyes glinting with clues and false intentions. It took only a second for us to be locked in a writhing pile of limbs and bodies, his pillow pinning me down across my chest as I beat mine over his head. His normally neatly combed hair was a fluffy mess and it was driving me wild.
"Stop that."
I giggled. "No!"
He growled at me, bearing his teeth.
"Ooh, you scare me so much, ya big animal!"
He glared at me. "Are you mocking me?"
I sniggered. "What do you think?" I thwapped him over the head again.
"That's it!" he roared, throwing the pillow he had over his shoulder, grabbing mine and sending it along with the other one, and grabbing my wrists. Okay -- I hadn't forseen that one. He pinned them down either side of my head, his nostril flaring as he glared at me finally. A giggle lifted and died in my throat, those eyes so damn close to me, starin' right into me. I felt my breaths all too clearly, his warm body that pinned me down pressing against my ribcage that shuddered from my heart doin' a jig. I swallowed, an anxious smile on my face.
"Logan?"
His eyes narrowed affectionately, looking over my face. "Mmm?"
"Think quick."
He barely had a second to brace himself as I spread my legs and clasped him between my thighs, flipping him over. I rolled upright, pinning him down in the same fashion he had me, except my legs clasped his firmly.
"D'ya give?"
He snarled. "Never."
I bounced firmly on him.
"NnuuuNNGH!" he groaned as a breath was forced from him. "That ain't fair!"
"You give?"
"No. NUNGH!"
"I'm the Queen."
"No you're not NUNGH!"
I rose a brow at him. "Two words, Logan!"
"Marie -- NNGH! I'd stop that--"
"Yeah what're you gonna--"
I stopped. I looked down, between my legs where I straddled his hips, then back up at him. I gulped. "Oh."
He blushed bright red. I looked away, my hands pulling away from his wrists, and he sat up. "Marie."
I looked to him.
"You have to get off me now."
I felt my lips curl up in a grimace of need. "I do?"
He blushed again and nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay."
I slid off him, letting him crawl up onto his bed, looking a little battleworn. He shot me a tired glower. "You're gonna do me an injury one of these days, girl."
The "girl" hit me and I felt sick. What the hell was I doing? The only reason he doesn't like me thinking of him in a Daddy sort of way was the age thing. He adored Jean, I felt it within me, and I was foolin' no one but myself trying to think in any other way. I curled up against my knees on the floor, gazing at the broken wall sullenly. I felt damned stupid.
"Marie..."
I didn't look at him. I'd behaved like an idiot tonight, I was damned embarrassed.
"Hey."
Okay, he was going to be persistent. I dared to turn my head and look at him. Of course, like always, his face was still and betrayed nothing.
"Put your sweater on and hop over here."
I nodded, pulling on the soft fleecy material and crawling onto the bed next to him, his hands pulling me down next to him. I felt strange as he let me sink down against him.
"Logan?"
"Mmm."
I swallowed, nervously. "It's okay. I know you like Jean better. She's prettier than me, and she's all stylish an' stuff. I understand."
There was a silence, and I just gazed at the ceiling, feeling the rise and fall of his chest underneath me.
"Jean -- Jean is pretty. Very very pretty."
I nodded, trying to quash the resentment that grew within me.
"She looks like the girls in the magazine," he said. He was sounding very matter of fact.
"And Ah don't."
I was nervous, my accent was as thick as molasses. When I spoke, I thought I felt him shudder.
"No."
Disappointment splashed through me.
"Ever seen an old painting?"
I shook my head, looking up to him. He glanced down at me gruffly, tilting his head and gesturing with a hand.
"Well, go to the gallery some time. Xavier has a few that I haven't ripped up yet. They got these ladies in them. Like um -- Titian."
I frowned. He was talking wierd.
"The ladies in them -- people devote their lives to looking at them. They spend thousands to own an image of them -- just a painting. Cause they're so real, they're so vivid and intimate."
I nodded, my heart finally shuddering back to life.
"That's you. With your eyes and your lips and your hair. Always beautiful, no matter what."
I smiled, breathing so lightly, clutching him to me.
"People throw out magazines," he said finally.
A soft laugh took me and I gazed up at him, holding onto him. "Thank you."
He snuffled ruggedly, settling down with me. "Never mind. Just remember it, 'kay?"
"Always," I smiled, nuzzling my face into the soft flannelette of his overshirt. We sat there a long while, just enjoying the silence like before. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing. With an excited rush I realised he intended on me stayin' here. Pulling up a blanket I got comfortable, wrapping myself in a sheet to make extra sure I didn't hurt the sweet lunk of a man. As I finally lay down, his arms wrapped around me as he was half asleep, a possessiveness in the movements that rocked me to my core.
I fell asleep very happy that night.
Of course, I'm Rogue. Life's a real bitch to me, and it doesn't do me any favours without throwin' a few curveballs to keep me on my toes. I wouldn't have minded so much, but this particular curveball was SO ridiculous, so incredibly gory and so perfectly, wonderfully DAMNING, that in any other situation, it would have been laughable. Right now, it was not laughable.
What woke me was Logan jumping up out of bed, my support whipping out from underneath me. I blinked, turning on the lamp, realising he must have woken up again and made himself comfortable. He was shirtless and standing stock still next to the bed, claws extended and glinting in the dim light.
"Logan--"
"Shhh!"
It was then I heard it. Dump...dump...thudump...
"Those are footsteps!" I whispered. Logan nodded quickly, finger to his lips to silence me. I felt like I was stuck in a corny urban legend or something. Except instead of a car, I was in my crush's bedroom, and it wasn't his head being smacked on the roof. Okay -- I definitely had to get more sleep.
Logan tensed, grabbing my arm, and the door-knob shook as someone fumbled with it on the other side. We crouched, alert, and glared as the door blustered open with a collapse of thumps.
Tall blonde bloody mutant with gaping abdomen filled the doorway, and I took a frightened gasp in, the smell of the guy evading me. He was rotting, I could smell it. His body just wouldn't let him die.
Wolverine growled in warning, hand clutching mine. Cold black eyes regarded the shiny claws a moment, and Sabretooth gnashed his teeth with amusement.
His lips fell down over the sharp mandibles, and something went out in his eyes. I could almost hear the wind whistling as the seven foot of almost-animal keeled over in front of us with a loud 'FWOOMP' that shook the room. My eyes darted to Logan, fear in them.
"Logan--"
"Shh."
I was sick of him shooshing me. He pressed his lips together, then gnashed his teeth at me, worry in his features. "This isn't good."
"No shit, Sherlock."
He frowned at me and let go of my hand. I couldn't help but eye his naked chest a moment whilst my brain tried to sort itself out. This was all too weird.
"What're we gonna do?" I sighed. "There's a dead guy in your room."
His eyes met mine with a black scowl. "I know, Marie."
My face fell flat all of a sudden as something occurred to me, probably about the same time as it occured to Logan. We glared at each other, our mouths falling open.
"Jean!"
End Part One