“No way.”

“Rogue, I don’t have time to argue.” Storm’s getting pissy in her role as self-appointed leader, and I wish, not for the first time, that Scott was still here. Okay, so he’d been a tad uptight, but at least he didn’t treat me like a kid. The stench of garbage and traffic suffuses the air and I hunker further down into my jacket. Seems our missions always involve going into areas of the city no one in their right mind would choose to visit.

I want to argue the point with Storm, demand that I be allowed to stay with Logan like old times, but then I look at him properly and his face is a blank. He doesn’t care if I stay with him or not, and the knowledge tears at my insides as surely as any metal claws once did. Suddenly all the fight leaves me and I just shrug and watch Storm and Logan disappear together into the shadows. God, she has such a crush on him. How pathetic.

“Come on then,” I snap curtly, leading my small group in the opposite direction. Bobby and Kitty exchange one of their looks, the ones that suggest that no one else in the universe matters a damn.

And it’s then I realise that I’m Velma. Without the orange turtleneck and the glasses, but Velma all the same. Not quite one of the grown-ups, but not one of the kids either. Well, hell, that just about sums up my life so far. The only consolation for the knowledge is that it means Bobby and Kitty become Shaggy and Scooby, and I allow myself a grim smile. They certainly seem to be doing a lot of slobbering since they became an item. It strikes me that losing my boyfriend to one of my best friends hurts a hell of a lot less than the change in Logan since Jean’s death, which surely can’t be right. I should be raging at the two of them, not leading them mutely into the dark alleyway looming ahead.

A dark, creepy alleyway that’s screaming ambush at me, only I’m too lost in my Scooby-Doo metaphor to pay it any attention.

Thwack.

Something lands on my head with the force of a small elephant, and my knees crumple under me. If this really were a cartoon I should be seeing stars or little tweetie-birds, but instead everything goes fuzzy. I’m aware of Bobby shouting, and a blizzard is suddenly swirling in front of my eyes. Somewhere there’s a roar, and I’m reminded of the time that Logan’s truck crashed with me stuck inside it. The freezing cold, the pain, the sound of fighting. I want Logan so bad and I try to shout, then everything goes black.

***

“You should have seen it, babes, it was soooo romantic.”

“Sorry, I was kinda unconscious at the time.”

“He just carried you inside like you weighed nothing!” Jubilee evidently finds this hard to believe, and I arch one eyebrow at her, but she’s in mid-flow and I might as well stow the sarcastic gestures. “And his face was all white and tense and really pissed-off looking. Hank tried to take you off him but he just pushed past him straight to the medlab. I swear he didn’t leave your side once til you woke up.” She beams triumphantly at me, then spoils it all by adding, “Except to pee.”

“It was romantic, I get it,” I grouse, throwing a cushion at her across the room. I must have heard the story of my dramatic rescue twenty times by now, and each time Logan becomes braver in the telling. If I’m honest, my heart beats uncomfortably fast every time I hear about Logan cradling me in his arms and tenderly watching over me, and I just wish I could remember one damn second of it but my brain’s a blank.

“Hey!” Jubilee lugs the cushion right back and it catches me full in the face. “Serves you right for bein’ a bitch. Someone fights off a pack of bad guys—”

“I heard it was three.”

“—to rescue you and all you can do is shrug your shoulders. Honey, you musta knocked your head harder than we thought.”

“I didn’t knock my head, Sabretooth landed on me,” I mutter dryly.

“Whatever. You’re just lucky that all you’ve got is a broken leg. And I still think you’re crazy.”

I tighten my lips. The truth is that I was crazy, once upon a time. Crazy about Logan, and crazy enough to think that one day he might feel the same way about me. After all, he’d saved my life, hadn’t he? Risked his own to bring me back from the brink. I told myself that it had to mean something. And then Jean came along and it was like I ceased to exist. The bond I thought we shared counted for nothing compared to his feelings for her, and it hurt. While I queued to take the cure he was out looking for Jean, and that hurt more. Bobby finally admitting that he and Kitty wanted to be together was like a fleabite in comparison. So Jubes telling me that Logan had saved my life, that he did care, well, that was real nice. But no way was I going to be crazy ever again.

“Enough!” I groan, spinning round in my chair so that I don’t have to look her in the eye. “Okay, I’m willing to admit that he was the hero of the hour. Happy now?”

Jubes scowls at me, so I decide to distract her by telling her my theory that I’m Velma. I get as far as musing about whether we should paint the jet like the mystery machine when she interrupts me.

“Rogue, I’m sorry, but you acted too dumb to be Velma. Velma’s the brainy one, right? No way Velma’s gonna be walking into some dark alley without checkin’ whether it’s a trap or not. You acted more like Shaggy, if you want the honest truth. And that means Logan’s Freddie ’cause he had to come and rescue you.”

“Uh huh. So following your logic that means Storm’s Daphne.” I point out. I’m not liking the idea of that one little bit.

She gives it some serious thought. “Nah, Storm’s too monochrome to be Daphne. Jean would’ve made a good Daphne. It’s the red hair,” she explains when I frown.

Everything seems to come back to Jean in the end.

***

On the whole the mansion is a good place to be if you’re in a wheelchair, even if it’s only a temporary thing. Hank says that as soon as I’m strong enough I’ll be able to use crutches, but until then I’ve been zipping about quite happily on my wheels. Well, up until now anyway.

Cursing under my breath I punch the button to summon the elevator again, but nothing happens. The stark white corridors of the basement level of the mansion echo my curses back at me. Looks like I’ll have to use one of the phones to summon help. Damn, I hate knowing that I’m dependent on other people.

“Hey, kid, what’s up?”

I spin around and there’s Logan. I’d forgotten how quiet he can be. He’s wearing his white vest and the usual jeans, and has a towel draped around his neck. And he’s sweating; I can practically feel the heat from where I’m sitting. My mouth goes dry and it’s a while before I manage to form a coherent thought.

“Uh, the elevator’s not coming. What’re you doing down here?”

“Danger room session.” He leans casually against the wall. “Nothin’ like gutting a few bad guys first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, right.” I turn and punch the call button a few more times, like it’ll make a difference.

“You need a hand?” he asks, and I summon a breezy smile.

“I’m sure it’ll come in a minute. Don’t worry.”

He straightens up and comes closer, and I try to swallow round the lump in my throat. At this height I’m on a level with his belt buckle, and it’s oddly disturbing. He brushes my hand away and stabs the button a few times with his forefinger. Typical man - thinking that it would work for him where it had failed for me. After a while he looks down and crooks one eyebrow.

“The elevator’s busted, Marie. Where you heading to?”

“Er. My room?” At this point I’m like a rabbit in the headlights. I can see what’s coming but I’m powerless to do anything about it.

“Okay. Well I’ll give you a ride.”

I attempt to squawk a protest but I might as well save my breath. One arm scoops me up and then I’m being held against Logan’s chest, pressed tight against the fabric of his vest. I can smell hot male flesh and see every hair on his jaw in close up. It probably looks a lot less romantic than last time, what with my plastered leg sticking straight out, and I’m conscious of my weight and the muscles bulging in his arms, but Jubes is right: he carries me like I’m made of thistledown. Suddenly being helpless doesn’t seem so bad after all. Okay, so I’m shallow.

There are three flights of stairs to go up, and by the time we reach the door to my room I’m practically a dribbling vegetable. Logan shoulders the door open and deposits me on my bed, and just for an instant his hand brushes against my breast. The contact is so fleeting it’s negligible, but the aftershocks go zipping up my neck like firecrackers. I feel a hot tide of colour rising in my cheeks, and it’s hard to meet his eyes.

“Thanks Logan. Um…guess I’ll see you around then?”

Oh smooth. Real smooth, Marie.

Instead of leaving straightaway he crouches down next to the bed and lifts my plastered leg, running his hand along its length until he comes to my painted toenails peeking out the end. He runs his thumb across them and I squirm, a giggle escaping my lips and easing some of the tension in my shoulders.

“I’ll have to sign your cast or somethin’, seeing as I can’t heal you anymore.”

It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned the consequences of me taking the cure, and I’m not sure how to react. So far it hasn’t brought me a lot of luck: Bobby broke up with me a few days after I took it, and I know there were some mutterings about me staying on at the mansion as a ‘normal’ person. I no longer really feel like part of the team, and it’s been the worst time in the world for Logan to withdraw into whatever dark place inside he goes to when he’s hurting. He’s always been there for me before; the change is hard to deal with. But now doesn’t seem to be the time to ask him to snap the fuck out of it.

“If I’d known I was gonna break my leg I’d have kept the mutation-sucking skin a bit longer,” I quip, and he gives a brief smile. It’s not much, but it shows there’s a flicker of the old Logan under there somewhere.

“How does it feel,” he asks suddenly, staring straight into my eyes, “being touched?” As he says it he takes one of my hands and holds it gently, and I feel the warmth of his palm spreading across my skin.

“It feels…” I struggle to find the words. How do I explain the joy of real human contact after so long? When a friend touches me it’s comforting, a reminder that I’m not alone in the world after all. But when he touches me it’s not comforting at all – it’s fucking disturbing. And there’s no way I’m telling him that. My hand prickles beneath his fingers, but I smile and whisper inadequately, “It feels good. Logan. Really good.”

***

“So what happened next?” Jubilee demands impatiently, and I bite back a grin.

“Next?” How long shall I make her suffer? “Next he flung me down on the bed and made mad passionate love to me. For hours.”

Her eyes are like saucers and I can’t keep a straight face any longer. “Sorry to disappoint you, Jubes, but nothing happened next. He went down to the basement to collect my wheelchair, then he disappeared to find out what went wrong with the elevator. Turns out it was some kind of power surge. That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh? Well don’t try and tell me that man doesn’t care about you, because I won’t believe it.”

I grimace. “Logan does care about me. But like a kid sister or a good friend.”

She purses her lips, obviously unconvinced. “All I can say is that I wish he looked at me the way he looks at you. I’d spontaneously combust.”

“You’re imagining it,” I tell her firmly. Then I spend the next half hour trying to convince myself I’m not going crazy again. Because whenever I close my eyes I can smell his skin, and it feels like I’m drowning.

***

“Hey kid. How’s it goin’?”

I’m dripping with sweat, and I’m conscious of my hair hanging around my face in limp strands. I don’t need a mirror to tell me my face is red and shiny. But other than that I’m looking great for my first meeting with Logan since the foot-holding incident.

“Just fine, thanks for askin’. Hank seems to think that this infernal machine is actually gonna do me some good.” I roll my eyes and glare in the general direction of the Doc, but all my evil looks seem to bounce straight off his skin. He just raises his brows and slowly brings the treadmill to a halt.

“That will do for today, Rogue. We don’t want to overdo it.”

“Sure thing,” I pant, releasing my deathly grip on the handrails and throwing myself down onto a bench. I try not to dwell on the fact that Hank is like the living embodiment of a Scooby-doo monster. The temptation to grab the top of his furry head and pull to reveal the person beneath is growing stronger every time I look at him.

Hank regards my crumpled, sweaty form for a while longer then walks out the room, shaking his head. He’s too polite to comment on my personal appearance. Logan isn’t such a gentleman.

“Marie, you’re a wreck,” he declares, squatting down next to me.

“Gee thanks.”

His mouth twists in a semi-smile, and he lifts a strand of my hair with one finger, tugging it gently.

“You can’t blame it all on the leg. When you’ve fully healed we’re gonna have to put in some serious work to get you fit. I’m thinking danger room sessions. Lots of dark alleys with heavy waits ready to drop on your head if you don’t shift your ass.”

I scowl at him. “There is nothing wrong with me that won’t be fixed by a cup of coffee and a donut. And let go of my hair!”

He’s still twining the strand round and round his fingers, pulling me closer to him with each movement. If I’m honest it’s kind of erotic, and my breath catches in my throat as he deliberately tightens his grip. For one moment we’re staring into each others eyes and I’m almost sure that he’s about to say something. And then…

“Logan! I need to talk to you. Now.” Storm’s icy command is like a bucket of cold water, and I can virtually see the shutters come down over Logan’s face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he growls. She looks about ready to argue then she catches a glimpse of his face and thinks better of it. I could have told her that shouting is a bad way to handle the Wolverine.

“Okay then. I’ll be waiting.” She glares at me pointedly, and I resist the urge to stick out my tongue. Anyway, she’s won. The moment’s gone, and I feel like throttling her with my bare hands.

The door slams behind her and Logan releases my hair with a sigh. “Places to go, kid.” he says wearily, standing up and offering me his hand. I take it gratefully, wincing as my muscles protest at the movement. Maybe he had a point about the need for exercise.

I look around for the crutches I left propped up against the wall, then frown. They’re gone. I was sure I’d left them there. I look again, my eyes flicking round the room desperately. The scary gym equipment is still present, but no crutches. What the hell is going on?

“What’s up?”

“My crutches are gone! I don’t believe this!”

“Relax, they can’t have gone far,” Logan says soothingly, scanning the room.

I’m almost dead on my feet, and I don’t even want to think about the miles of corridor between me and my room. I suppose I could do some kind of hop and hobble combination, but it lacks a certain dignity. I turn back to Logan to ask him to fetch me some spare crutches from Hank in the medlab but the words die on my tongue. Not again!

The world spins around me as Logan scoops me up, and I’m back in the position that’s fast becoming a favourite with the less intelligent areas of my body. While I’m here I figure I might as well lay back and enjoy the sensation, than remember with a thrill of horror that I’m hot and sweaty and past my best.

“Put me down, Logan! Someone might see!”

“Let them see. I’m just helping you back to your room, that’s all.”

“Logan!” I pummell his back and shoulders but it’s like hitting a wall, and he grins down at me.

“Relax, kid. I’m not putting you down any time soon. You’ll just hurt yourself if you struggle.”

“Storm’s gonna be pissed if you’re late.” I point out reluctantly as he carries me up the stairs.

“Storm can wait.”

I think the alpha male part of him is enjoying all this caveman stuff, a suspicion that’s confirmed by the wide, satisfied smile and the wicked glint in his eye. If I’m honest I’m enjoying it too – more than is good for me probably.

When we arrive back at my room Logan puts me down, his hand sliding up my legs as he gently sets me on my feet and – omigod – lingering for one long second on my ass. Did I imagine that? I’m still in a fluster as I watch him walk away down the corridor, and I let myself into my room with a stupid grin plastered across my face. And then I see my crutches laying neatly on the bed and a note stuck to the pillow.

***

The next day I stride - well, limp - into the canteen and up to the table, surveying the assembled faces of my so-called friends. They’re all there: Jubes, Bobby and Kitty, and not one of them looks the teensiest bit repentant.

“So which of you sickos ran off with my crutches?” I demand angrily, plunking myself down into the vacant chair. Jubilee pushes a glass of soda at me but I ignore it, skewering them all to the spot with my eyes

“Calm down, Rogue, we did it for your own good,” Kitty says softly. She thinks I can’t tell she’s holding Bobby’s hand for courage under the table.

“Calm down?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes at her, “You stole my goddamn crutches! You’re lucky I’m not chasing you round this table with an axe!”

“Yeah, but she’s not the one who trashed the elevator, sweetie,” Jubes interrupts with a wide grin. “It was kinda fun watching Logan sweep you off your feet all over again.”

I open my mouth to speak but words fail me. It seems there’s been some kind of conspiracy going on with me as the hapless victim. I give up on the idea of chastising Jubilee – I have a hunch it would be wasted breath – and set my sights on an easier victim.

“So Kitty,” I demand, leaning forward across the table, “is this supposed to be an attempt to make up for stealing my boyfriend from under my nose?”

She has the grace to blush and hang her head, but Bobby immediately sticks up for her. “Knock it off, Rogue. We both know our relationship had been over for a long time.”

I glare at him, thinking of all the mean, hurtful things I could throw at him. But then I huff out my breath. It’s no good. I really don’t hate him that much, and what’s more he’s right. The fact that I really haven’t hunted them both down like a mad axe-woman is testimony to my real feelings. I reach across and punch him lightly on the arm. “Jerk,” I growl, then we’re grinning at each other across the table and all the bitterness is gone. Just like that.

“So spill. What’s goin’ on between you and Logan then,” Jubilee asks eagerly, waving a chocolate donut under my nose. “Tell us the truth and I’ll give you all the chocolatey goodness you want.”

“I don’t know!” I exclaim, playing with the sugar grains that have been spilled on the checkered tablecloth. Anthing to buy myself a little thinking time. “Sometimes I think there’s something, and then it’s gone again. We’re friends, but as for anything more than that your guess is as good as mine. And that’s the truth.”

“So you don’t know how he feels?”

“I’m not a mind reader, Jubes.”

“Okay, I’ll let you have the donut. But you’re hot for him, admit it.”

I choke on a mouthful of soda. “Jesus! Gimme a break here!”

“Uh uh. Not until you tell us how much you luuuuurve the Wolverine. C’mon, we’ve all seen the way you look at him.”

“I do not look at him!” I declare hotly, then when Jubes raises one eyebrow I add: “Much.”

“He’s got a great ass,” Kitty says thoughtfully, and we all turn to stare at her incredulously. Bobby looks horrified.

“He’s not bad looking,” I admit grudgingly. I can feel a smile creeping across my face just thinking about him, especially in the leather suit. Mmmmm. Jubilee gives me a look and I crumble. “Okay then, he’s hot as hell.”

“And you fancy the pants off him,” she states. She waggles the donut enticingly and I make a grab for it.

“You know I do! I always have.” I glance apologetically at Bobby but he just shrugs. “Dammit, Jubilee, I’m fucking crazy about Logan, okay? Now just give me the donut and leave me to pine in peace.”

“Okay, sweetie, you’ve earned it.” She slides the donut across the table and I pounce on it eagerly. If I can’t have Logan in leather I’ll go for carbs every time.

“And no more stunts with lifts or crutches or anything else, is that clear? Or you’re all for the chop,” I say as threateningly as I can with my mouth full.

They all exchange a look and Jubilee nods. “From this moment on I swear no more tricks to get you and Logan together. It’s up to the pair of you now.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, licking the frosting off my lips. I’m not liking the way she’s smirking, and I’m suddenly conscious of the bustling canteen growing quiet around me, but Bobby distracts me by taking a slim black machine out of his pocket and clicking a switch on the side. “What’s that?” I ask.

“The latest in surveillance equipment. You can hide this anywhere and listen in from a distance of up to two miles with digital clarity. Cool huh?”

I have a very nasty feeling about this. I spin round and Logan is stalking across the canteen, heading towards me with all the deadly focus of a missile. A swift glance at the faces around me confirms my suspicions. I’ve been set up. Again. Bobby is leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head, and I point my finger at him accusingly.

“You…you…” I struggle to find the appropriate words to convey my fury and embarrassment. “You know who you are? You’re Scrappy-doo!”

Ignoring the puzzled looks and the sniggers I get to my feet, but it’s too late. Logan’s hands grasp my shoulders and spin me round to face him, his eyes pinning me to the spot. The noise around me fades into the background. There’s just me and him in the whole world, and the only sound is my heart thudding in my ears.

“So you’re crazy about me, huh?”

The urge to run is nearly overpowering, but I force myself to face him. “Yes!” I almost shout the word, my hands curling into fists defiantly.

“Crazy about some jaded barfighter who nearly abandoned you in Laughlin City? Who’s maybe decades older than you? Someone who stabbed you in his sleep?” He punctuates each sentence with a tiny shake, and I start to tremble. He must be able to feel the shudders racking my body and it just seems to make him angrier. “Crazy about someone who let you to go to some fuckin’ lab by yourself while he made a fool of himself with another woman?”

I flinch, but I know this may be my only chance to get through to him. I step closer, raising my hands up to cradle his face. “Someone who saved my life,” I whisper. It’s not enough though. He needs to hear me say it, and I press closer: “Someone I love.”

By standing on my tiptoes I manage to press my lips against his, although the pain shoots through my weak leg like fire. He remains unresponsive, his lips drawn into a tight, grim line, and I wonder if I’ve finally gone too far, if this is the end of our friendship. Finally my mouth falls away in defeat, and I feel my leg give way as I start the slow slide to the floor. For an instant the world snaps back into focus, and I become aware of the horrified faces of my friends watching. I want to tell them that it doesn’t matter: nothing matters anymore.

One second before I fall in a crumpled heap arms like steel bands wrap around me, crushing all the breath from my lungs. Logan hauls me up so that my feet are dangling a foot above the floor and I’m on a level with his face.

“You really are crazy,” he mutters hoarsely, then I’m being kissed so fiercely that stars explode behind my eyelids. And Logan isn’t a shy kisser. His tongue plunges deeply into my mouth, and if we weren’t in the middle of a school canteen I’m pretty sure I would be sprawled across a table by now. I’m vaguely aware of whooping and catcalls, but I’m too happy to be embarrassed. Time enough for that tomorrow.

“You taste of chocolate,” he mutters, licking his lips. I’m too dazed to reply, and he presses another swift, fierce kiss to my mouth, his hand swooping lower to rest possessively against my denim-clad rear, pulling me tighter against his hips. Suddenly the canteen seems to be getting uncomfortably warm.

“Time to leave,” he declares, swinging me into his arms and striding towards the doorway. I bury my face in his shoulder and nearly faint with lust. Damn pheromones.

“So you really love me?” he asks as we head down the corridor, and the tenderness in his eyes is everything I ever wanted. It seems a bit pointless to be coy now, so I nod happily.

“I’m afraid so. That teenage crush just never really went away.”

“Thank God for that, because I’m crazy about you too, Marie.”

“Really?”

“Completely. Didn’t realise it until you damn near got yourself killed.” He scowls down at me. “Don’t ever let that happen again. I’m serious about those danger room sessions, darlin’. And from now on you stick close to me.”

“If you insist,” I agree meekly. That should piss Storm off. “I can think of better ways of keeping fit though.”

For a second he looks startled and then he increases his pace, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I twine my arms around his neck and start pressing soft kisses against his chest, and he half laughs, half groans.

“Quit it or we’ll never reach my room!”

“I don’t care,” I whisper, touching my tongue to his neck. He growls at me and I laugh.

He pauses for a moment and looks down at me seriously. “Would you ever have told me, Marie? If Jubilee and the others hadn’t hidden that damn transmitter in my room?”

I think about it carefully and finally I answer, “Probably not. I thought you were still too hung up on Jean to ever love anyone else. And I was scared that you’d reject me and I’d have to leave. I wanted to stay just to be near you, even if you didn’t care about me any more.”

He holds me tightly to him and we stay like that, silently, just for a while. But there’s been too much sadness in the mansion lately, too many deaths. I need to lighten the atmosphere, and there’s really only one thing to say.

“And I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for those meddling kids.”



The End.