He stared at the girl for a moment, then turned on his heels and closed the door of the bedroom quietly. Reached for his jacket, and fished out a small cell phone.
He hated those tiny little gadgets with passion, but there were moments when they came in handy. Moments like this.

He stepped out from the cabin and closed the door behind him, quietly. Cringed when the hinges squeaked, but luckily the girl stayed asleep.

“It’s me. I have a bit of a… Situation here,” he blurted when a familiar voice rang from the other end of the line. Connection was poor, crackly, but words carried over clearly enough.

“I found her. She’s… She’s in bad shape.” And that was an understatement of the century.

“Physically she’s fine, as far as I can tell. Mentally… She’s a mess.” He leaned against the door and patted his pockets while the person at the other end of the line spoke, found a stub of cigar and lit it.

“Takes one to know one, Chuck. She’s a loon alright”, he grunted and took a drag, then puffed the smoke out slowly, savoring the taste on his tongue.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring her there. She’s not your average runaway. It’s quite a hassle to make her even wear clothes for most of the times…” First time he had seen her she had been laying on a plush velvet couch, naked as the day she was born, her glassy eyes reflecting the strobe light that was swirling at the ceiling.

“What? No! Those fuckers doped her up! I’m sure that she’ll be alright once it wears off, but in the meantime I think it’s better that we stay here.”

He cringed again and cut the connection. Opened the door and listened. The girl was still asleep. He left the door open and sat down, leaning his back against the doorframe and resting his eyes on a red hue of the setting sun.

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“Hey, kid… Put a shirt on. And pants,” he said. The girl in question sprinted back in to the bedroom, her whole body flushing crimson from embarrassment. He waited. No use to make a big deal about it.

It took a while, but finally the girl emerged from the bedroom. Oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweats. She was twiddling with the hem of the T-shirt nervously, her eyes skirting between his face and the floorboards beneath her feet.

He huffed, then stuck the cigar to the corner of his mouth and motioned her to come closer.

“Come here…” He grasped the hem of the shirt and yanked gently, forcing her to pull her hands inside of the shirt. One more yank and Donald Duck, grinning from ear to ear was now grinning from her chest instead of her back. He checked the sweats as well.

“Good. You’re getting better at this. But you better tie those laces before you drop your pants,” he grunted, pleased that she had remembered how to put the sweats on.
For a while the girl fiddled with the drawstring, then gave up. It was clear that the simple task of tying a knot was too much for her to handle.

“I’m not as sure as hell going to put my paws in to your pants. Sit down before they fall on their own.”

The girl complied, scooting a bit further from him as he would have preferred, but he let it slide. It wouldn’t do to get her all worked up now. For the first hours, before she went to bed, she had been afraid of him. Now that she seemed to remember who he was, at least to some extent, better let her be and make her own decisions.

They sat in silence for a long while, long enough for the sun set and moon to rise. It wasn’t before first stars emerged to the dark sky before the girl spoke for the first time.

“I’m… I’m Marie,” she said. Slight hesitation in her voice, quick glance towards him. He kept his eyes trained to the yellow orb of the moon.

“Marie. I’m Marie,” she repeated with confidence. There was still fear on her face when he turned to look at her.

“Yeah. You’re Marie,” he confirmed, then stood up. When she flinched and tried to scoot even further in to the corner she had earlier chosen it took him every ounce of willpower not to grab her. It took a physical effort just to step around her and return in to the cabin as if she hadn’t just curled to a tight ball to avoid possible kick and hail of insults. It took him even more not to crush the thermos with his bare hand. He grit his teeth and poured some coffee for himself. The girl would have to settle for herbal tea. He wasn’t going to give her anything stronger before he was absolutely sure that drugs had cleared from her system.

----------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, kid! Get back in before you freeze your ass,” he shouted. Perhaps louder than it was absolutely necessary, but she came in, even remembered to close the door after her.

“There. Have some tea. Hungry?” He asked, pushing the steaming cup in front of her when she sat down. She shook her head and leaned her elbows to the table, inhaling the aromatic steam that rose from the cup.

“We have muesli,” he said. He had been doing some last minute shopping, just trying to get everything and anything he could find that would make her feel comfortable and at home with him. He had found the cardboard packages from the furthest corner of the small grocery store. Clerk had been more than willing to let go of them, with a hefty discount. Nobody ate rabbit food at this corner of the world. Nobody except the girl named Marie.

Mention of muesli, delicates that would have made her mouth water and eyes sparkle just a month ago made no difference now. She just shook her head. He shook his head.

“We’re leaving in few days. We’re not going to leave food in here, draws rats and mice. If you think that I’m going to shovel two kilos of hay and grain down to my throat, think again, kid. Eventually you have to eat,” he said. His words drew a faint smile on her lips, and she opened her mouth as if she were to say something. Then, as suddenly as the last rays of the sun, all life vanished from her eyes and she bowed her head to hide the grin she didn’t quite manage to vanquish.

He wanted to lash out, tear in to anything and everything at his path, scream out his rage and frustration. Instead he left the table, opened the front door and sat down, leaning his back against the doorjamb. His numb fingers found a cigar. A lighter.

His hands shook when he lit the cigar.

A month.

It had taken him a mere month to find her.

It would take hell of a lot longer to pull her back home from the Hell she lived in.

”Where is she?” Genuine worry coloring his otherwise harsh and raspy voice.
“Rogue…” Confusion shining from Professor Xavier’s face.
“She’s gone?” Question on professor’s face, question in his mind.

One mistake had been enough to drive her away. He turned to look at the girl that was sitting on the passenger’s seat, her eyes glued to the scenery outside. If one could call it that. Scenery. Thick forest, just waiting for a crew of lumberjacks and big machines, now parching under the sun. Yet the girl kept watching it like it was the most breath-taking sight of her life. Perhaps it was. From what he remembered, she was originally from the South, more accustomed to magnolias than firs and pines.

Jean’s beautiful face, twisted to painful grimace. Whispered, barely audible syllables, then words. Horror rising, accompanied by nausea.

His first instinct after finding her had been to take her home, back to her family. Force her parents to take her back no matter what. Surely they would understand how important it was to take care of her. Surely they would understand how much she needed them. Surely… It had been an idea born out of helplessness. For the first time in his remembered years he had been utterly unable to handle the situation at hand.

Days turning to weeks, weeks turning to months. Road ahead, former lover, now turning to bitter bitch who just kept on stretching, mile after mile clues and promises providing false hope.

It had taken him a good while to realize that taking her back home wasn’t possible. It wouldn’t do any good for her. If he was right, and those bastards had kicked her out, they wouldn’t take her back now. If she had run away on her own, they probably would accept her, but would they be able to give her the peace and quiet she seemed to need and crave? Would they give her the space she seemed to need to pull herself back together?

Relief washing over him when he finally found a solid lead, straight path to the hell that Magneto had created.

No. Her parents weren’t the answer. Neither was Professor Xavier. He turned to look at the girl again. She was leaning her forehead against the window, her eyes closed. Not asleep, but not fully awake either. Past nights had been restless, constant battle between her physical need to sleep and her mind’s demand on being alert and conscious.

Anger. Rage. Grief. Madness.

He wasn’t sure of how much of what had happened the girl could remember. Magneto had been arrogant at first, but in the end the old man had caved in and spilt the whole sordid tale, words tumbling from his swollen and cracked lips, grey, beady eyes searching his, searching for mercy.

After Magneto finished his story, there had been no mercy left. Just patience and diligence. And pain. Loads of pain, reserved just for Magneto.

He shook his head, no use to dwell in the past now. More important was to get the girl fixed. To get her feel at ease with herself and with the rest of the world. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon if he kept slipping behind his memories and got all growly and hostile even from the slightest hint of discomfort and grief she dared to show.

“So… You hungry?” He asked, trying to remember when they had last eaten. Road snacks they had would last several days, but perhaps a warm meal would do some good for both of them. The girl shrugged her shoulders, apparently unable to turn to look at him.
“I was thinking that we could stop for a while. Grab some burgers, or something. Or we could cook. You know how to cook?” He tried to coax verbal answer out from her. Again she just shrugged, then nodded, hesitantly, but it was miles better than what he had expected.
“Good. I know the basics. I can boil water, and I think I could manage to fix us some eggs and bacon, but if you want something else, you’ll have to show me how to do it.”

A lie. But she wasn’t equipped with his senses. She wouldn’t detect it.

Teaching him how to cook would force her to communicate with him. Simple nodding, shrugging and shaking her head wouldn’t do. He’d make sure of it. He’d be the dumbest, most idiotic cook that had ever walked on the Earth.

After several failed attempts he had to face the facts. Cooking wasn’t his forte. Had never been. And it was quite apparent that Marie wasn’t Michelin material either. Scent of burnt butter and flour filled the room, and what had once been a kettle reminded now a smoking cauldron. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, making the girl at his side flinch.

“You looking for a girl, pal?”
“I’m not your pal, but as it happens, I’m looking. Why?”
“Heard of Magneto’s new place yet? He’s got one sweet set-up going on. This great big mansion, filled with chicks. And the best part of it? It’s free!”

“Okay. Plan B. Let’s go and grab some burgers,” he huffed. Marie’s head drooped. Failure. It was written all over her. She had failed, and now would be a perfect time for a punishment. Little whipping perhaps for her shortcomings as a cook? He shook his head, but decided not to react. Instead he went around her and reached for his jacket, opening the front door. Sound of it forced her to lift her gaze. There was hope, a shimmer of it. And when he smiled that shimmer escalated to something, almost resembling an honest smile.

Getting in hadn’t been a problem. Getting out with the girl posed a challenge of sorts. It really got difficult after.

The girl standing behind the cash register gave them thorough look, then popped her gum and rang his order. He knew what the girl was thinking. He didn’t care, just picked up burgers from the counter and steered Marie out. Eating at the greasy diner under the watchful eyes of the cook and the cashier felt like a bad idea. Marie was still jittery around strangers, and the pair that run the diner looked just a tad bit too curious.

Max was the only one he trusted enough. Well, basically Max was a grade A asshole who couldn’t have found his own ass even if he tried with both hands, but the guy had healthy attitude towards life. He preferred it instead of slow and painful death that Logan had to offer should he screw up anything.
“Take care of her. Your life depends on her well-being.”
“Yeah, yeah… Like always.”

She ate silently her share of the meal. Not a hint of complaint or revulsion over rare burger he had ordered from a girl who had preferred fresh salad over any kind of burger just a month ago.

“I was thinking…” He started, hoping against hope that she’d interrupt her with some witty remark. She opted to stay silent and wait for him to continue.
“Perhaps we should head back home. There’s not a hell of a lot I can do for you. I… I thought I could help, but…”
“Home?” It was barely audible, scratchy whisper, but it came from her lips, and shone from her eyes. An actual question. He resisted the urge to grab and kiss her. Instead he nodded.
“Home. Back to Xavier’s place. I thought this would be better for you, tag along with me and get over what happened at your own pace, but it’s not working.”
There was a question in her eyes, burning through loud and clear, but he wasn’t going to answer before she actually asked it. Her brows scrunched from frustration, then she cleared her throat.

“I… I will get better. With you,” she whispered, her gaze darting back and forth between his face and the floor. He shook his head.
“No, you don’t.”
“I will,” she whispered, tone of her voice more confident.
“Is that a promise?” He asked. She huffed, then braced herself and looked him straight in the eye.
“I promise.”

He knew that Max would rather die than let anything happen to Marie. A fact that didn’t alleviate uneasy feeling in his gut. He should have stayed with her instead of going after Magneto in hopes of sweet revenge. Yet here he was, standing at the front porch of Magneto’s brothel.

He closed his eyes and let his head droop backward, leaning against the backrest of the armchair he had chosen. It was easier to sleep like this. It was easier to get up and comfort her like this if she happened to have a nightmare. She had those quite often. Some of them her own, some of them something she had absorbed from her ‘customers’, as Magneto had called her victims.

They let him in no questions asked. Magneto was either arrogant or foolish. Or both. Two goons guarding the front door escorted him to the office and told him to wait there; the boss would be with him soon. He sat down and waited. Waited like a good little doggy.

This night seemed to be a pleasant exception to the norm. She was sleeping peacefully, curled on her side. He cracked his eyes open and regarded her. Like this it was impossible to tell that she had gone through Hell. She looked like any other girl would look when sleeping. A tad too young, too fragile, a child in so many aspects. It was hard to believe that any of Magneto’s customers would have preferred her over the professionals working at the brothel.

“Wolverine,” Magneto greeted him casually as if they were old friends, then locked the door behind him before settling behind his rickety desk. He nodded. Magneto leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest.
“And what do I owe this pleasure, my boy?” Magneto asked.
“Rogue.” His answer was simple. Magneto nodded.
“The girl you stole from me. I assume that this is somewhat… Personal?” He asked.
“You could say so…”

For some reason dreams were evading him tonight. Just as he was about to plunge deep in to that refreshing state of numbness he jolted fully awake for no apparent reason. He sat up straighter, lit the small lamp on the bedside table after making sure that it wouldn’t shine on Marie’s face and reached for a book he had found earlier. He didn’t know what the book was about, it was missing cover and several pages from here and there, but perhaps reading something, anything, would finally lull him in to sleep.

He managed to scrape Magneto badly enough to make him loose it. The old man was far too concerned of the state of his innards to even try to fend off his assailant.
“Talk to me, and you just might live another day…” He growled. Magneto grimaced, clutching the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Talk to you? What makes you so sure that I even wish to live?”

And now he could detect the faint scent of sickness. Magneto was already dying. Had been for good while already.

He tossed the book in to trash bin when it became too hard to follow the fractured plotline. Formidable gap from the page 35 to the page 136 was quite impossible to bridge with his limited imagination. He turned his attention to the sleeping girl again. She looked so peaceful. So at ease. If she could get out of her shell like this at waking hours… He shook his head and smiled. He actually felt sorry for the boys and men around her. She could twist them in to tight knots just by looking at them.

“Why?”
“Because I could?” Magneto gasped backing in to corner. Away from him. Away from his claws.
“Why did you have to screw up her life? What the fuck had she done to you?”
“Nothing… She was just… Convenient. I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist…”
He stepped closer and crouched in front of the old mutant. First question answered. Trickier dilemmas ahead.

He stood up and stretched his back. It was raining outside. Big fat droplets were bombarding the paved parking lot. He turned off the light, then just stood there, staring in to the night, trying to figure out if Marie really wanted to stay with him, or had she refused to return to Xavier because she thought that it was what he wanted.

He actually had to resort to first-aid. He couldn’t let Magneto die before the old man had revealed the whole truth. He didn’t know what had happened, the brothel around him was eerily silent, and nobody answered Magneto’s screams and pleading.

After dressing the worst of the wounds and making sure that Magneto wasn’t going to die for blood loss he waited for a while, entertaining himself with contents of Magneto’s archives. Folders filled with pictures and names, many of them stapled shut and labeled as ‘case closed’.

He could tell that she was really trying now. She was making an honest effort not to flinch or try and hide. Even talked a bit. Answered if he asked a question, with as few syllables as possible.

Folders gave names and faces for the dead men. They gave out their occupation, family and where they lived at. He even knew where they had bought their clothes and food. Most important information was missing. Why?
He discarded his futile search and turned to Magneto who had once again regained his consciousness and started pleading. Begging Wolverine to kill him.

“You’ll die when I say its okay for you to die. Now… We have some matters to discuss…” He said, placing the pile of folders in front of the old man.

She was making progress. Slowly but surely she was climbing out from the cocoon she had wrapped herself in. Every day she smiled more often. Spoke more often. She was even able to look him in the eye long enough for it to be classified as prolonged contact.

He tried his best to ignore temporary setbacks, involuntary twitches and flinches and long periods of mulish brooding. She was entitled to those as long as she kept getting better. And she really was trying.

“Why do you want to know…” Magneto’s voice had turned hoarse and scratchy from the screaming already; he was no more the all powerful leader, but an old, sick man. He felt no remorse. The old geezer had put Marie through wringer; it was only polite to return the favor.

“I need to know. I need to know, because there has got to be a sensible explanation for this whole mess. I know you. You’re a hard bastard, but you don’t bully little girls just for the hell of it. Why?”

Magneto stared at the folders, reluctance written all over his hunched posture. He huffed, then reached for his jaw and lifted his head. Raised his fist and released his claws.

“I will kill you as soon as I get what I want. It’s up to you how long it’ll take. We can get over with this quickly; just tell me what I want to know. I can keep you alive like this for probably several days, you know…”

Now she wasn’t entitled to any kind of brooding. Paralyzing reagent was spreading through his systems rapidly, shutting off organs, muscles and nerves, rendering him basically useless. Few more minutes and she would be on her own.

He had already managed to shove her on to the driver’s seat. He had even managed to crawl to passenger’s seat. The door was still hanging open, closing it would have required strength he didn’t have any more. He could only lean back and try and breathe, his eyes set to the rearview mirror. The road was empty and dark behind them, but too soon powerful searchlights would turn it to blazing inferno. And she was just sitting there, frozen, hands clamped tightly around her ribs, eyes screwed shut and her whole body shivering.

“Kid… Snap out of it… Marie? Ki…”

Magneto had spilled out the whole sordid tale along his guts, after several hours of careful handling. And no, it really didn’t justify the treatment Marie had gotten, but gave it a reason.

When Logan left the brothel he soon found out that somebody had heard Magneto’s screams after all. He could hear sirens, not too far away, approaching fast. Police. He walked across the street and leaned against the wall of the opposite building. Just lounging there, all casual. And when they arrived, left. Walked slowly down the road to where his truck was parked, shivering from the inside.

Unfamiliar coldness crept along his veins when he realized that they were not just ordinary cops. MF. Mutant Force. Special unit hiring men and mutant, dealing with mutant relations and mutant related crimes fast and efficiently.

Mattress was lumpy. It smelt funny. Bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling was blinking from time to time erratically. At least he thought so. Seizures and spasms made it difficult to fully comprehend his surroundings, and he could only wait for his mutation to sweep off toxins from his blood and flesh.

Max shoved Marie to his arms as soon as he opened to door of the dimly lit apartment.

“This little missus’ a freak. She’s all yours now. I don’t want to see her, or you, ever again.”
He took the girl with no arguments. Max had done his share. For now.

Marie was sharing the cell with him. As far as he knew, it wasn’t a standard procedure. And it wouldn’t last long. She was here only waiting for the social worker. They had no place to keep her, so they had tossed her in with him. He was in no condition to harm her. He was in no condition to harm anyone, period. And it was quite apparent that he had nothing to do with her condition. She had made it perfectly clear, screaming and trashing violently as soon as she was separated from him.

Trip to the small cabin had been uneventful, just as days spent there. For him they had been pure agony, trying to take care of the girl, hoping against hope that Magneto had somehow miraculously survived so he could kill him again.

Magneto had used Marie to get rid of wrong opinions. Politicians and those in power, they all had very common, very humane flaw. Just like anybody else they craved the forbidden. Magneto offered it, seemingly for free. Cost of one night spent with a girl was often paid with life and a sizeable fraction of Marie’s sanity.

“Kid?” Perhaps it was okay to speak now. Tremors had stopped and he was able to form coherent sentences.
“Kid? Are you alright?” He could see her from the corner of his eye, squeezed against the furthest corner of the cell; her eyes scrunched tightly shut and small palms practically glued over her ears. He turned on his side, slowly and carefully to avoid cramping. Horrible sinking and spinning feeling made the mattress underneath tilt alarmingly and he fell face first on to the cold concrete floor.

“Oww… shit…” He struggled to turn his head. The sound of cartilage snapping had been all too audible and he could already taste the blood at the back of his throat. He tried to move his hands, tried to turn over but it really wasn’t working.
“I really could use some help here…”

“Kid? Help me up… We can go and have some muesli as soon as you help me up…” No answer. Had she ever really liked the shit, or had it been just some sort of phase in her life?
“Come on! I could use a hand…”

Raising his head for the required inches that it took to see the girl wore him out. He managed to steal a brief glimpse of her before his head fell again. What he saw made him renew his efforts. She was still in the same corner as before, but it didn’t look like she was sitting there to hide. Come to think of it, she hadn’t moved an inch from her slouched position.

She was unconscious.

He wasn’t completely sure of what had happened. He had hazy memories of a struggle. Broken metal bars. Screaming. Blood. Lots of blood. And here they were now. At Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

He didn’t know where the girl was, but he was quite sure that she was safe. He’d know if something was wrong with her, right? Right?

“Logan, Logan, Logan…” Xavier. Patient and understanding, as always. His face filled with compassion.
“I’m sure that this whole mess wasn’t your intention when you took it upon yourself to try and help Rogue.”
“No.” He stared at his hands, his knuckles in particularly. White as bone, fingers laced tightly together, resting on his lap. So this how it felt. To be ashamed.
“I can see the motive behind your actions concerning Eric. He… He crossed a line that should never be even approached.” Absolution, even if it was just partial did nothing in relieving his discomfort.
“But events that followed… Why must you be so stubborn, Logan?”

He didn’t have an answer to Xavier’s question, but the professor wasn’t probably even expecting one.
“She’s safe. She’s with Jean now.”
“Is she…” He couldn’t force the words out. He knew that she was safe, but was she alright?
“As for your concern of her well-being… She didn’t witness the events that led you back here. She’s still unconscious. From what I was able to gather from her mind, things that she projects even now loud and clear… She’s afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
“Afraid that she’s taken away from you. I believe that her state is due to stress. Her mind closed off when she realized that she’d be taken in to custody,” Professor Xavier explained.
“Can’t you do anything?”
“It’s impossible to get through to her while she remains unconscious. We’ll just have to wait. She must take the steps to recovery by herself.”

Wait. Easier said than done. She had been on her way back to civilization, baby steps, but even that slow and blundering pace was better than this. Better than lying on a hospital bed, closed off from the world.
“You should get some sleep.” Jean, on full doctor-mode.
“I slept enough already.”
“That doesn’t count. You were drugged. You need proper rest.”
“And I will rest as soon as she wakes up. If… If she really needs me to be here, what she will do if she wakes up while I’m away sleeping?”
“Logan, you…”
“No. I’ll wait until she wakes up.”

Stubbornness. Something he had always been good at. Maybe it would come in handy now. Because as determined as he was, he could already feel dreams sneaking closer, eerie tentacles sliding in and out of his consciousness, making his head droop and eyelids heavy. He forced himself to straighten up and shook his head. Renewed his efforts.

He would not be sleeping before Rogue woke up.

As he sat in silence he finally had the time to mull things over. He was stubborn. He was hasty in his assessment. He had a temper that flared often, usually at wrong occasions. He was generally bad news. Bad company. What on earth had possessed him to think that he’d be fit to play a shrink? What had made him thinking that Marie would be better off with him than in here?

As he sat, Jean came by and checked the girl, adjusted her pillow, then left.

He was still sitting there, deep in thought when the girl moved. Her eyelids fluttered slowly, opening finally, and he just knew why he had decided to play the hero.

At first her gaze flittered back and forth, slightly panicked, but when she saw his face she seemed to relax instantly.

He played the hero because she saw him as one.