Moments like these were his favorite, just because they were so rare. Especially since the Professor was gone now. Somehow that meant he was in charge of the Institute, not to mention responsible for everything and everyone in it. It wasn’t a position he particularly enjoyed, but no one else wanted to step up to the plate. So times when it was just him and a bike that could use a little bit more supping up he enjoyed his garage haven. No sounds except for the clank of a tool hitting the ground, no questions, no kids, nothing but him and what Jean like to call his big boy toys. Everyone in the mansion understood the unspoken rule: when he was in here he was not to be messed with.

So when the door from the kitchen leading into his haven dared to squeak open he sent it a menacing glare.

Kitty winced, apolitically shrugging her shoulders. “I’m like totally sorry but there’s a call for you.”

“Take a message,” he snapped, turning his attention back to the bike to signal the discussion was over. And that she should leave. He knew she would catch the hint; Katherine Pryde was the brightest student at the Institute.

“I told him that you were like busy and that you’d say that,” she said with her hands on her hips, “but he said it was important and like, you’d want to talk to him.”

He sighed and threw his wrench into the tool box. All his tools yelled in distress. “Who is it?”

The small, sprite-like girl shrugged again. “Didn’t say. I can tell him to call back if you want.”

“No, it’s alright.” He knew when to admit defeat. Duty called it seemed. “I’ll take it in the Professor’s office.”

The Professor’s Office. That’s what everyone still called it, even though the Professor hadn’t been in there for the better part of three years. He supposed it was his office now but he only used to keep confidential records there and when he need to meet with outsiders coming to the school. Or if he needed to take a phone call that was evidently of the highest importance.

He went around to the back of the desk. There was no chair there still. He’d rather talk standing up anyway. “Hello?”

“Hello to you, sir.”

His jaw tightened at the heavy, egotistical voice. “What the hell do you want, Magneto?”

“Language, young one. I know Xavier taught you better manners than that. As his successor you sully his good name with such behavior.”

The wood edge of the desk under his palm creaked and groaned under his grip. “I will ask one more time before I hang this phone up. What the hell do you want?”

A cold distant laugh carried through the line, the desk took more abuse. “Direct. Alright, if you want to do this without niceties that’s quite fine with me. I want Cerebro.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You’ve got to be joking, right? Not only no, but hell no.”

“I’m afraid I am not asking your permission, young man. I am telling you. With Charles gone it belongs more to me than to you. You were still in your filthy human mother’s womb when Charles and I built it. You have no right to deny it to me.”

“And yet I am.” He shook his head, surprised at the gall of the guy. “I’m not giving a power hungry maniac a way to be even more powerful. Sorry you wasted your time. Please feel free to never call here again, Eric.”

“I’ve wasted nothing. You will give me Cerebro.”

The headache was rapidly growing in his right temple, slowly spreading across his forehead. “Let’s hear your ‘or less’ and be done with this. I have a lot of things to do today.”

“Very well. Have you taken attendance yet today? It’s such a big school you have there.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? Just come out with it.”

“I have a young lady here,” the cold voice went on. “She would like to speak to you.”

His heart stilled for just a second, but he tried to remember to remain calm. That was until he heard his name.

“Scott! Scott, please----!”

His stomach dropped at the hysterical southern voice choking out his name. He couldn’t tell which one of them was in more pain at that moment.

“I think that’s quite enough,” the old man came back through. “You get the jest, don’t you, young man?”

~Jean! Jean!~ He ripped open the telepathic link with his wife.

~Scott? Dear, what is it, you’re hurting my--- ~

~Locate Rogue. I have to know where she is now!~

“Mr. Summers?” Magneto sneered. “This is how things will happen. You will have Cerebro dismantled by the end of next week. Do not damage it. There will be a barge docked at New York harbor. You will load it on there. I will call you with the girl’s location afterwards.”

He saw red, even with his eyes clenched shut. “How do I know that’s not just Mystique?”

~Scott-- ~

“You don’t. You are welcome to not show up on the 23rd, young man, if you so choose.”

~Scott, I can’t find her anywhere. Jubilee said she hasn’t seen her since this morning. She’s not in the mansion. What’s going on?”

“I’m sure we can use the girl for something if you do not want her.”

Voices bounced at him from every direction. And each word was fueling the anger in him even more. Slamming his hand down onto the desk was a poor release compared to opening his visor. But without Magneto standing in front of him it was the best he could do.

It didn’t sound like his voice when he was finally able to speak. “If you hurt her, I swear to God I will--”

“It’s a bit late for that kind of talk and pointless at any rate. You should be proud of her, young man. She’s quite the little fighter.”

Magneto’s laughing voice tore through his chest, his heart gripping in even more pain. He heard the phone cracking in his hand. “Xavier is not around any more to save you, Magneto. Things are different. I will find you after this and I will kill you.” He didn’t know who was speaking through him. He could still faintly hear Rogue in the background. He didn’t disagree with any of it.

“Perhaps,” Magneto said softly. The line went dead.

The phone stayed against his ear even though he only heard static.

“Scott…”

His eyes came up. Jean and Ororo were standing in the doorway, clutching at each other’s hands. Both of them were looking at him with searching eyes, waiting for orders, an expression that everyone in the school always looked at him like, except now they were simmering with confusion and fear. He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his anger and careful replaced the phone on its cradle.

“It was Magneto. He has Rogue,” he explained. “He wants Cerebro.”

“I’ll get everyone on it right away,” the weather Goddess said. “How long did he give us?”

He shook his head, the muscle in his jaw jumping beneath the skin. “No. We’re not giving it to him.”

“Scott,” Jean stepped forward, her eyebrows clenched together. “He has Rogue. We can’t let him….we have to give him what he wants. He’ll have no qualms against--”

“I know, Jean,” he snapped, yelling at her as he pounded the desk again. Both women flinched and he swore at himself. “I know. But I can’t sacrifice the whole damn world either, can I?”

Her clear mint green eyes soften. It only made him feel even more like shit.

“What are we going to do then, Scott?” Ororo asked.

He was really tired of people asking him that. More so he was sick of feeling the weight of the world quite literally resting on his shoulders. A world that hated him since birth and now he had no choice but put it in front of someone very important to him, it would be want the Professor wanted.

But he was going to be damned before he would sacrifice her for the damn stupid war they found themselves in. “We use Cerebro, find out where she is. And we go in and get her.”

Jean’s face went white; it didn’t go unnoticed by him. “We can’t. I’m sorry. Rogue’s mutation—there’s too many erratic thought patterns in her mind, there’s no way I could pin point her.”

He came out from behind the desk, stopping in front of his wife. Gently he took her face in his hands and pulled her head foreword to gently drop of kiss on her forehead. “Just try, please?”

She nodded and gave him a forced smile. Always behind him and supporting his leadership, he gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile of his own before gently touching his lips to hers. They pulled apart, both of them looking at the white hair woman in the room. She didn’t look particularly impressed. Jean balked first, nodded and moving towards the door. “I’ll get on it now.”

Ororo watched her leave, gently closing the door behind her. When she was gone she turned back to Scott, crossing her arms over her chest. “She won’t find her. Professor Xavier could never use Cerebro on Rogue. Jean doesn’t have a chance.”

“She might,” Scott countered.

The Goddess pursed her lips at him. He sighed; she was the only one left that ever challenged his default authority. It meant a lot to him. “We have to give him Cerebro, Scott. We don’t have any other options.”

He swore. Under his breath, he never did out loud in front of Ororo or the children. It was to protect the children and help them grow up straight and because the Goddess hated it and would fry his ass if she heard it.

“Not exactly,” he said reluctantly, hanging his head. He took a deep breath then looked up at her again. She watched him expectantly.

“Find a way to get in touch with Wolverine.”

Her eyes went wide at his words, he couldn’t blame her.

He knew she was there. No one reeked of jasmine and murr like Ororo Monroe. Evidently she was having a hard time spotting him since she was wondering aimlessly around the backwoods bar. With her elegant movements and dress along with her bright white hair she was standing out in the middle of a bunch of deadbeats and attracting too much attention to herself. They could track him down to the middle of nowhere Canada but they couldn't find him in a bar? They were pitiful as ever and he shook his head in shame for them. Chuck would be so proud.

“What?” He huffed into his beer as she walked right behind him. She came to an abrupt stop.

“Logan?” She whispered uncertainly then really looked. Of course it was him. Now that she was looking at him she couldn’t believe she couldn’t spot his distinctive hair style from across the room.

“Logan,” she repeated, more softly this time as she gracefully sunk down onto the bar stool beside him. He didn’t look up from his beer.

“Logan.” This time with more authority—like a mother to a sulking child. “Logan, I need to speak with you.”

Two long gulps and the bottle was empty. “So talk.”
A new bottle was immediately sat in front of him. He nodded at the retreating bartender whereas Ororo glared at him.

“We need you to come back.”

No sales pitch, no superhero hype. He always did like Stormy the best. That didn’t change anything.

“No,” he answered bluntly, still refusing to look at her.

“Logan,” matured voice again, a little softer this time. “We all miss you. You must know no one blames you for what happened.”

“Yeah?” He huffed. “Tell that to Scooter.”

She sighed heavily, looking away from him as well. “After what happened… he was grieving, Logan. He didn’t mean any thing that he said.”

Logan snorted, lifting the bottle back to his lips.

“Fine, he blamed you at the time,” she relented. “But he doesn’t any more. He’s the one that sent me here.”

“Well, I’m sending you back,” he said, looking at her for the first time.

She shook her head, taking the bottle right out of his hand. He growled but it didn’t faze her in the least. “I’m afraid I’m not making myself clear. I’m not leaving here without you.”

“Save it, ‘Ro. I’m not---”

“No!” She interrupted him, slamming the bottle down onto the bar. People around them gave faint looks before they went about their business, bar-goers in places like this never paid too close attention to things around them. “You’re coming back and you are going to help us.”
He arched an eyebrow at her and she visibly deflated.

“It’s Magneto,” she said softly, leaning closer to him. “He has taken a friend of our hostage. Her name’s Rogue. You don’t know her; she came just after you left. He wants Cerebro for her.”

Logan took his drink back out of her limp hands. “So use the damn thing to find her. I know it works since you’re sitting here ruining my Friday night.”

“Not her.” Ororo shook her head. “Something about how her mutation works. I don’t really understand myself, Jean could explain it better.”

He shrugged. “It’s still not my problem.”

Again his beer was ripped out of his grasp. “Will you really sit there and tell me that you are going to let something bad happen to an innocent girl just because your pride is hurt. That doesn’t sound like you, Logan.”

He snarled, his claws itching underneath his skin. “My pride is just fine.”

“Good. How ‘fine’ do you think Rogue is right now?” She must have hit something. His face fell, but she didn’t feel any better about it. “I’m sorry to be doing this to you, my friend. I understand just me being here is bringing back bad memories for you. But you’re her only chance. Please, she has nothing to do with what happened before. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Ororo threw her head back, taking a long drag from his beer. They feel into silence except for him ordering whiskey. Nursing their booze they let the bar move around them. Faceless bodies and noises moving in one blurred mass.

“She just a kid?” He finally asked.

She still had a fourth of his bottle left. She never was much of a drinker, certainly not beer. “Practically. Turned twenty-one last month, mansion went to hell for a week afterwards.”

A faint smile found his face. The first one in a long time, it didn’t last. They went back to tense silence again. Ororo took one more sip then slid it back over to her with a scowl. He immediately gulped down the rest of it.

“Just this one time,” his rough voice was little more than a whisper. “I go in and get her, and then I’m gone again.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She looked sadly at her old friend as he finished the whiskey as well. She forced a slow nod. “If that’s what you want.”
“I’m not an X-Man, ‘Ro.”

She pushed to her feet, laying a gentle hand on his large shoulder. “You will always be an X-Man, Wolverine. We are nothing if not family.”

He shot her a skeptical look and she almost laughed. “I didn’t say we were a functional family. Are you coming, Logan?”

His big hand pushed him away from the bar. “Yeah. I’m coming.”

**

She lost feeling in her arms a while ago, not long after the dizziness cleared from her eyes from whatever the shot her with the second time around. Toad was not fooling around her. The ropes were tied tightly around her upper arms, her chest, her wrists, her thighs, her ankles—he was taking no chances. ‘Smart Frog,’ she thought.

**

It was eerie how much everything was just like it was before he left. That wasn’t true, he reminded himself. The front wall wasn’t blown out, there weren’t kids running around and screaming in terror. Charles Xavier wasn’t there.

He shook the ghosts off his shoulders and stomped off the ramp of the jet, leaving Storm behind to deal with it. There was no point in letting the ghosts out; he wasn’t going to stay long enough to justify the self-loathing. He’d get the dish, get the girl then drop her off at the front gate and be gone. Maybe another time.

The hanger door easily slid open, well oiled high-tech machinery at its finest. Then there was long, slim legs; small, trim waist; and fiery red hair.

“Jeanie,” he greeted with his most lecherous smile, nodding his head at her.

She didn’t return it. That brought his attention even more to her mouth. She wasn’t wearing any lipstick. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Jean without her red lipstick. “Not now, Logan. We’re not in a good mood around here.”

He pushed past her. If she didn’t want to play that was fine with him, just meant he could get out of here even sooner. She followed closely behind him, a little too close behind him for his taste but he kept his mouth shut as he moved into the school halls. Maybe he could loose her in the tidal wave of kids late for class.

“Thank you for coming,” she said in a little lighter tone as she chased after him.

He visibly was ignoring her but it took some effort to bite back the remark that popped up in his head. In his haze of resentment he didn’t see the little green skinned girl until she collided with his knee caps. He did, however, yell out several profanities when her pink and green poke-a-dotted backpack landed squarely on his foot.

“Logan!” Jean chided then same time the girl stuttered out an “I’m sorry!”

He snatched the bag up before the girl could reach for it. “What the hell you carrying in this thing, kid? Bricks?”

Her green skin paled to a sickening lime-like color. “No-no, sir. Just my history book and my math book and my biology book and my--”

“I get it,” Logan snapped, handing the bag back over to her. He hadn’t as much as seen a kid in six years and five minutes back at Xavier’s a green girl was injuring him. Memories were trying to spring up again. He forced them back down.

“Where is he?” He asked over his shoulder to Jean. The kid got the hint and ran off.

“The garage,” she answered. “I’ll go get---”

“Don’t bother,” he demised her. He had a pretty good idea of how to get there on his own, he didn’t suddenly need her help. She yelled after him but he didn’t slow. Kids instinctively moved out of his way. Suddenly the place didn’t feel so familiar. He didn’t recognize a single face. Like he was a stranger to the Institute that he spent most of his years he could remember. He swore under his breath. He should of let Jeanie do the song a dance, that way it would be easier for all of them to pretend he was just some new timer.

When he got to the door to the garage he jerked the handle open a little harder than necessary.

“No one’s allowed in here,” Scott’s voice floated from under a mustang.

Logan snorted. “Like I give a shit. You want my help or not?” There was silence, the short time of three seconds stretching on endlessly.

“Logan,” Scott finally greeted him with his back still turned. His voice was deadpanned but it was the most polite greeting he could muster for the other man.

“One-Eye,” Logan countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Scott sighed, wondering if he had enough blood pressure medicine left for the guy to be in a five mile radius of him. He’d have to remember to tell Jean tonight to order his refill. Trying to shake it off he snatched a rag off the ground beside him a stood to his feet. He turned around as he cleaned his hands. “Come on, I’ll brief you in the strategy room.”

“Here’s fine,” Logan shot back. “I don’t plan on staying long enough to walk all the way down to the damn strategy room. Just give me the facts.”

Scott nodded, completely agreeing with him for once. “Her name is Rogue. She’s about 5’7”, 120 I’d say. Heavy southern accent. Brown and white hair, kind of can’t miss it.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s a freak like the rest of us, I got it. Where was she last?”

Scott shook his head, throwing the sullied rag down. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know she left. Hold on.” He opened up the telepathic link. To Wolverine it looked like he was staring blankly at him, it was a little off putting. Of course he knew he wasn’t. The Professor tried a time or two to get in touch with him like that. But he hated having anyone in his head but himself. Looking at Scott now affirmed his opinion—the guy looked like an idiot. Just as Logan was going to let him know of his opinion the door behind him banged back open, nearly hitting him in the back.

“Jean said you need me,” an Asian girl dressed in head to toe yellow chirped. Logan actually found himself taking a step closer to Summers.

“Logan, this is Jubilation Lee, Rogue’s side kick,” Scott explained. “Did you talk to Rogue the other morning, before she left?”

The girl looked between the two men and popped her gum. It was neon yellow too. “Hel---uh, heck no. She left at like five in the morning. You know I’m not any kind of social before nine. And who said I was the side kick? Because I am totally no one’s side kick; we are an equal level crime fighting duo, dude.”

Logan could feel a headache beginning to form in his left temple, despite his healing factor. And the girl was still talking. “I know where she went though,” she said. Both men raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded at them and popped her gum again.

“Where?” Logan snapped, having no patience left with anything to do with the school. That would have been the sentence he wanted to hear three blood vessels ago.
The girl didn’t jump back or otherwise show any signs of fear at him. In fact a hand went to her hip and she shot him a glare. “Hey, who the hell are you, Hairy, huh?”

“Jubilee,” Scott stepped forward, feeling Wolverine winding tight beside him. “Just tell us where, please.”

“Uh huh,” She replied directly at Logan, blowing a large bubble just for his benefit before popping it loudly. He growled at her but she just turned her attention back to Scott. “She went to the nature reserve, goes jogging there every Sunday morning. Evidently the sunrise is pretty cool looking over the lake. Not my thing, though, you know? Just as soon watch it on T.V, thanks.”

“Keys,” Logan growled at Summers the same time the younger man thanked the girl and sent her off and out of his domain. Scott considered pointing out to him that the damn keys were hanging up right behind that pointy head of his but opted to keep the encounter as civil as possible and simply walked around him instead. Wolverine effortlessly caught the flying metal tossed at him. When one eyebrow arched up on his forehead Scott’s hands itched to laser it off.

“What the hell do these go to?” Wolverine huffed, rolling the dull metal in his hand.

“The van. It’s right over there.”

“Van? As is that piece of shit?” Wolverine gawked. Up against the side of the garage was a large navy blue panel van, complete with a silver stripe down the side. “How about somethin’ a little less noticeable than a fucking blue van? Forget the fact it’s a damn eyesore; Buckethead is gonna be able to sense that much metal comin’ a mile away.”

“You’re taking it,” Scott ordered, his leader voice wavered slightly with his frustration. “She could be injured. Damn it, Logan, she’s probably beat to hell and you know it. That eyesore has a full first aid kit and a bed in the back. You’re taking it.”

“Shit,” Logan swore under his breath. If Sabretooth was involved at all in the snatch then it was a guarantee the girl wasn’t in good shape. He should have never gotten his ass off that bar stool. Now on top of a damn annoying as hell rescue he was going to have to deal with a whiny, busted up kid. Driving a blue van. “Great.”

The driver’s side door surprisingly didn’t make a sound when it jerked it open. Wonders of wonders.

“Logan!” Summers voice stopped him just as he was about to slam it shut. He leaned his head out to glare at the other man.

The X-Men’s voice went cold in warning. “Don’t mess this up. All you have to do it get her out.”

He should have killed him. He should have rammed his claws so deep into the bastard’s chest Jeanie got heartburn. The imagery of that brought a slanted grin to his face. So much for Storm’s sales pitch that Summer’s didn’t still blame him for Xavier’s death. Hell, he was already geared up to blame him for this Rogue’s cold body too. Why he just drove off and let the little twerp get away with talking to him like that he had no clue. Maybe all that whiskey finally started to rot his brain. Or maybe his age was just starting to catch up with him. Whatever the reason he didn’t want to go a round with the tight-ass. Again, too many memories. A problem he never thought he would have.

But he had to push One-Eye’s up coming form of agonizing death away for now and concentrate on finding this kid since he was going to have to get creative. The instant he first stepped out onto the wet soil he realized his mistake. He had no clue what the girl smelled like. Didn’t grab a damn thing from her room like he meant to, fucking Summers. He spent at least an hour just pacing the paved bike trail near the lake, trying to pick up a scent. There were twenty or so, all fairly fresh, and none that screamed out, “Hey! I’m a mutant!”

So the trail was out. The glow in the dark motor mouth said she liked the sunrise over the lake. The closer he moved to the soggy bank the deeper his boots sunk down into the mud. He was a heavy man and his weight was working against him like everything else.

“God damn---” He muttered, trying to pull his boot out of the vacuum sealed mud. The sooner he got back up North the better. A few more choice words were about to come out when a distinct smell wafted past his nose a stopped him. Sewage. Another sniff. Sewage and clovers. A scent he could tract for miles.

“Toad,” he growled.

**

That didn’t go as planned. In fact, it pretty much had to go right up there with that time her and Jubilee tried to liven up the Macy’s Fourth of July fireworks show. Really, it should have worked. It was classic captive maneuver. Play dead until the guard comes to check on you then attack when they get close enough. Scott would have given her at least a B- for effort. Alright, who was she kidding she’d been lucky to get out with a D+ and a fifteen minute lecture.

The problem was this was not a danger room simulation and she had very little moveable body to attack with. And Toad was not getting anywhere close to her. She loved her Sunday morning jogs because she could go out in little shorts and a sports bra—like a normal girl—and feel the cool morning air chill the sweat on her skin.

Backfire. Instead of coming within reach of her poisonous display the scaly bastard poked her relentlessly in the thigh with a fucking stick. There’s only so long a person can pretend to be out while being poked. She’d been tied up for what she guessed was three days, probably closer to four now. Hell it could have been a month. No water since a few days ago after she made some comment about his mother. No food ever. And Rogue was famous for nothing if not her healthy appetite and her short temper.

So when the stick mistakenly poked at her hands she grabbed it and pulled. She was a strong girl and he was very small so Toad went flying over her, crashing somewhere in the darkness. She didn’t particularly care, besides hopefully on his head. Getting to her knees was easy, pushing to her feet from there not so much, but she managed. Standing she could get a better look at where she was. A warehouse or something? Of course, it was the Brotherhood. They liked warehouses for some reason. Directly in front of her was a short wall she could see over. A few hops closer to it and she could see down. A loft. Not too high. Maybe. Six feet give or take a small child.


Toad’s screeching voice yelled “Hey!” in the distance. Sure, there was probably a better way down. But her damn thighs and feet were tied together so it wasn’t like she was ladder worthy or anything anyway. What was six little feet? A couple more hops got her to the wall. And a short prayer and a rolling leap got her over it.

The plan could have worked had there been anything softer than railroad ties under the loft. And there are a lot of things softer than railroad ties so statistics should have been on her side. But she hated math and it obviously hated her too as she was fairly sure she heard at least one bone break. Going by feel was out because her whole body basically felt like a still vibrating gong. She started to celebrate the small victory that her head hadn’t taken a direct hit. It wasn’t until she heard Toad’s God awful laughter that it official became the worse idea ever.

**

He had to give Toad credit. He was making things easier for him than he originally thought. The little snot was either moving in some kind of open air vehicle or he drove with the window down the whole way because he left a blazing trail down the wooden New York back roads. It was just a little too easy. It could be a trap set up just for him or it could just be that Toad really was one hell of an idiot. But he didn’t let his usual paranoia set too far in. It didn’t make since for the Brotherhood to set up a trap that would only work on him when he hadn’t been an X-Man in five years. And Toad was a moron. At least he hadn’t caught a whiff of Creed so far. If it was for him Creed would be involved.

He’d been driving for just over forty-eight hours, only stopping at a questionable looking burger place to grab something to eat and a short nap in the bed in the back that was really nothing more than a cot with a blanket. The van might not have been much of a looker but he gave it credit, it was a much more comfortable ride than his bike. With the window down he could lean against the door and get plenty of the oncoming air by without having to worry about bugs. The thing didn’t have any of the standard X-Tech on it, though. He’d already pressed all of the buttons and pulled all of the levers- no super charger or radar. Just an average of piece of shit with a crappy radio.

It looked like he had a while to drive yet, still nothing but trees lining the roadside. In the distance he heard a train horn. At least that was something.

**
“Real genius you are,” Toad giggled.

Rogue squirming as he dragged her across the cold concrete floor. The rope tied around her foot chaffed (how damn ropes did the freak have on him?) and her ankle didn’t appreciate having to haul her whole weight but at least the manphibian didn’t tie it around her broken leg. Besides, it’s not like she could disagree with him.

“Sooner or later ya slimy little ass is gonna be mine,” she hissed at him anyway. There was no point being mad at her when he was still lurking around.

A yellow, toothy grin spread across his face. “Yeah? I’d like to see that, girly. You’re going to kill yourself before Magneto even gets to you.”

She sat up then, considering it a challenge. Her butt scooting hurt more than being dragged but she quickly grabbed the rope and pulled it to her chest before she thought better of that plan too. He gasped and lost his balance, tripping up on her feet and falling backwards. His slight frame landing on her chest wasn’t enough to knock the air out of her but his memories quickly flashing past her eyes was more than uncomfortable enough. She managed to roll him off of her and then further away herself.

“Aw…gross,” Rogue whined, looking down at the large amount of green skin she had on display. Both her and her captor laid on their backs in the middle of the floor, an exciting party to be sure. As she studied the corrugated steel of the roof she tried to come up with a plan B before her temporary twin woke up. There was a reason she was a front-line fighter, not a strategist.

**

“Fuck!” He swore, slamming the car into park. He’d lost Toad’s distinctive stench. The whole van rocked against the force of the slamming door. The few people walking around the small town main street sent him a collective cult glare but he had bigger issues.

Toads scent didn’t just disappear. If the road cut straight through the tiny town like it was suppose to he wouldn’t have a problem. But of course it had to split into a four way at the town square. His trail was being covered by the typical small town scents and a heavy blanket of coal and soot. Enough of it that he wagered the entire population had lung cancer. On top of everything the sun was dropping on his third official day of tracking. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it probably meant town activity would drop and some of the blocking scents would move on. But mostly it just made him want to head into the little bar across the street with half the light blubs burnt out on their sign.

He felt in his pocket for his cigar. He lit it and enjoyed the first long drag, soothing smoke filling his lungs. Blowing out the smoke he made his way across the street. If the girl survived this long a few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

**
She had to get out of there. There had to be something on the wall or the floor she could use to cut the ropes. She was an X-Man. She was resourceful. She was totally screwed if she didn’t figure out something by Friday. According to the lump of frog still comatose beside her that’s when Sabretooth was coming to ‘collect’ her. Whatever the hell that meant. Nothing good was a safe guess.

Her neck was cramping from straining it in an attempt to look around her surroundings so she let it fall back onto the ground. Yeah, she was pretty screwed. At least her skin wasn’t green anymore.

**

“Beer. Molsen’s. Whiskey chaser.” The bartender immediately jumped to fetch his order as he settled onto the stool. It was a decent place, all and all. More high class than he was use to, considering the place had more than two lights hanging from the ceiling. The music was too loud for his taste and the locals were playing just a little too much attention to him but they kept to themselves beside that. And the bartender was fast.

He nodded his thanks and downed the whiskey first. The cool mouth of the beer bottle touched his lips when his ears picked up “seen that freak around here lately?” in a hushed whisper at the far end of the bar.

“No. Got my handgun on me just in case, though.”

The amber liquid slid easily down his throat as he tried to listen to filter the conversation from the increasing background noise.


“Mutants. I swear they’re getting more disgusting by the day. Did you see its skin?”

“Skin? What about those yellow eyes half popped out of his head?”

Gotcha, Wolverine thought setting the empty bottle down. Another reason why he always followed his instincts. Just because they usually led him to a stool didn’t mean they weren’t as sharp as ever. The bartender came over but he shook him off and moved down the bar to the two men. They were both young, mid-twenties he figured. The age of trigger happy idiots.

“Boys,” he greeted, gaining their attention.

One of them shot him a searching look. “Something we can do for you, man?”

Logan smirked. “No. But there’s something I can do for you.” Confusion danced across their faces as he leaned closer. “I hear you got a mutant problem.”

One of the boy’s eyes went wide as the color dripped from his face. It was just the reaction he was looking for. But his companion—typical, the one carrying a gun—just leaned back on his stool and glared at him.

“And how would you hear a thing like that?”

Smartass little prick, Logan thought. He shrugged though, leaning back again against the bar. “My hearing’s good. I happen to be a mutant hunter, heard rumors there was one running around these parts. You two got any good information?”

Rambo’s face only got more skeptical, but his buddy took the bait. “One started showing up about a week ago. Ugly son of a bitch.”

Logan grinned. “Aren’t they all?”

“This one takes the cake. Like the swamp thing or something.”

The other one snorted and looked Logan up and down, sizing him up. It was all he could do to suppress the growl. “And you’re going go after him?” He asked skeptically.

“You got it, bub.” Just a rumble low in his chest. “It’s what I do.”

“There’s an old lumber yard to the east, about thirty miles outside of town,” his buddy offered up, completely oblivious of the tension between the other two. “A few guys think he’s hiding out there.”

Logan grunted in some semblance of a thanks. Really it was just a dismissal of them now that he had what he needed. He’d start heading east. His nose should be able to pick up Toad’s scent again to get a better pinpoint.

The full moon helped. Not that he needed it; his eye sight was pretty good. But there were a lot of random size logs and divots in the dirt scattered around the yard. With the extra light he didn’t have to pay so much attention to where he put his feet. This was definitely the place. It reeked of the slimy little bastard. At the end of the yard close to the tracks there was a warehouse. He didn’t have to use his nose to know to head that way. The Brotherhood loved a warehouse.

He stopped and shook his head. The thing didn’t even have a door. Its lack of modern comforts assured him he didn’t have to worry about Mags being inside. Or even the Blue Bitch for that matter. His nose told him no Creed still. A pretty piss poor effort on the Brotherhood’s part to be sure. So why the hell couldn’t the X-Geeks handle this one their one? One-Eye must have developed a fear of little green men as well as a bigger stick up his ass. He was sort of beginning to look forward to a thrill, looked like he wasn’t getting anything near that exciting tonight.

No point dragging this out. The sooner he grabbed her the sooner he’d be back on the road. With it just being Toad she couldn’t be in that bad of shape. Toad was a sniveling creep, but he wasn’t exactly violent.

He walked in to nothing really. Big empty space, dirt on the floor. He sniffed once, twice, and then started walking towards the right. As he rounded the corner he saw the green lump on the floor. Another very feminine lump a few feet beside it. Her back was to him but she had long brown hair and the tiniest dark green shorts he’d ever seen, barely covering her ass. Oh, and tennis shoes. Had to be his disappearing lake runner.

“Looks like I missed the party,” he broadcasting loudly as he walked closer to get the girl’s attention. “Toad.” He nodded down at him. He got no response back. The girl rolled. And the sight of the bold white bangs falling into and framing her face threw him off a little bit. Then he saw nothing but big green eyes. “So you must be Rogue.”

“Who tha hell are you?” Heavy southern accent. Check.

“Wolverine.” He nudged the source of his tracking trail with his foot. “What happened to Toad?”

“Ah happened to Toad,” the girl snapped. She started squirming around in what he could only guess was an attempt to sit up. She was failing miserably if that was the case. A squirm or two more and she gave up. “You a friend of Sabretooth’s or somethin’?”

“No,” he growled. Although he could tell by the look on her face his action did little to convince her. “The X-Men sent me.”

“Really?” She kind of laugh, kind of snorted. It was a very unattractive sound. “And Ah’m just suppose to believe that? Do ah look like ah was born yesterday, sugah?”

His eyes dropped down to her chest and her black sports bra of their own accord. “No, I can’t say that you do, darlin’. Tell you what,” he moved closer and kneeled down. “Why don’t I cut you out of these sausage ties and we can go from there?”

He released the claws on his right hand and a little yelping gasp came out of her mouth. It was a much cuter odd noise than her last. Aside from that she didn’t jump, or roll in her case, away nor did her scent spike fear or nervousness. Mainly she smelled like dirt. As he leaned closer he was about to place his other hand on her bound arms, just to keep her from a potentially bloody movement her whole body jerked as far as her restraints would let her move.

“Hey!” She yelled. “No. Touchin’.”

He groaned. Just when he thought this was going to be simple. “Look, kid. I ain’t gonna feel you up. Just hold still.”

She didn’t. She jerked away from his out stretched hand again and this time he found himself nearly snarling. “Ah said no touchin’. You tellin’ me no one in the Brotherhood told ya about mah uncontrollable deadly skin?” A little giggle. “Nice friends ya got.”

His brain stopped for a minute as he stared down at the not so demure smirk on her face. “Deadly skin?” He repeated, just because that all he could come up with.

She nodded. “Mah mutation, honey. Keep up.”

He sat back on his heels and looked her up and down again. There was no denying the view was nice. All the right peaks and valleys. And a hell of a lot pale, creamy skin all out in the open. One hell of a killer view, alright. “Friends indeed,” he grunted, shaking his head clear. Summers got him again.

“Fine,” he groaned, making another mental note to never get involved with anything that had to do with the X-Men ever again. “Just hold still.”

The safest place was the gap between her balled up fists. He pulled two of the claws back, leaving only the middle one out and set it against the under sit of the rope.

“Do not move,” he warned in a deep growl.

“Ah hear ya the first time,” she huffed. “Just do it.”

The girl had brass. Too much of it, he decided as he easily sliced through the ropes, freeing her hands. With her hands no longer tied together she tried to help him by lifting the remaining ropes away from her body. The only one that really made him nervous was the one tightly wound around her chest. She couldn’t lift it much at all and he sure as hell didn’t want to damage anything there.

When all the ropes feel away he stepped back, letting the metal slid home into his fist. Big bottomless green eyes followed him. “Now what?”

“Now what?” He echoed. “Now you get your ass up so we can get the hell out of here.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she mumbled under her breath, turning her head away from him. He heard every word loud and clear.

Definitely too much brass. It was going to get her killed. Tonight, if she kept giving him lip. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her. “There a problem, sweet heart?”

She gnawed viciously on her bottom lip then took a very deep breath with an unnecessarily loud exhale. Then she turned her head back away and mumbled again.

“Shit.” He swore, dropping his arms. Just when he thought everything was going easy. She thought her leg was broken. He could tell by the stun look on her face it wasn’t something he was suppose to be able to hear. Well, they were both in for surprises about the other’s mutation. “Toad broke your leg? That lump,” he pointed an angry finger down on the ground. “That ninety pound tree-hugging lump broke your leg? He can’t even lift a hammer.”

“No he didn’t break mah leg,” she snapped back, like he’d just said the stupidest sentence alive. “Ah broke it.”

“You…” He was speechless. Then he was laughing, big barking laugh that had her face turning candy apple red. “You kicked your own ass? Hell, no wonder he tied you up so much. Save you from yourself.”

“Okay.” She muttered, clearly fuming. “Ya know what, don’t help.”

He watched as she got to her knees, then shakily to her feet with a poorly restrained smile on his face. With one foot up off the ground, her injured one he figured, she managed to straighten up and balance on one foot with no near topples. He’d have been impressed if he wasn’t still cracking up that Summers was so worried the Brotherhood had busted her up.

“Ah,” she shook her hair out of her face. “Will hop out. Ah’m a very good hopper.”

He extended one arm out, pointing towards the exit, still trying to stop laughing. “Hop away, darlin’.”

Her nose wrinkled up, in what was supposed to be a threatening glare, he was sure. It only made him smirk more. She managed one hop before she screamed and toppled forward. She caught herself with her hands on the floor before he could react to grab her.

“Ow, ow, ow,” she repeated over and over again, her hands still supporting her weight.

At least this little mission wasn’t a complete waste of his time. It was entertaining as hell. “You alright there, kid?”

“Shut up, don’t call me that. And stop laughing.” He heard, but all he could see was the back of strained legs and a toned, little ass sticking up in the air. He didn’t stop laughing.

Her head whipped around, nose wrinkled up again and this time she added the pouty lip. It was even more hilarious. Especially since he wasn’t sure the intense redness of her face was coming from the anger rolling off her or all the blood rushing to her head.

“Hopin’ is out,” she declared as again she straightened with perfect balance.

He fought his laughter down. Now he was looking forward to her next bright idea. He could just imagine how she broke her leg to start with. “Clearly.”

“Ah thought ah told you to shut up.” He just shrugged his shoulders. She sighed. “Ah’ll crawl.”

Some of the redness left her face as she looked down at the dirt floor of the warehouse. Not that it mattered, she was caked in dirt already but he figured he let her torture herself enough. Despite One-Eye’s opinion he wasn’t heartless enough to let her crawl on her hands and knees out of there after everything she went through. Even if she did do it all to herself.

“How about this,” he said as he closed the distance between them. “I’ll just carry you and we’ll get out of here before tomorrow afternoon.”

Again, though she jerked away from his outstretch hand. It was a really annoying tendency she had. “Excuse me? Deadly skin. How tha hell do ya plan to carry me?”

He hadn’t thought about that. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans but the sleeves weren’t anywhere long enough to cover his hands. And how the hell was he supposed to carry her without his hands? She—she wasn’t wearing a damn thing, really, so there was no help there. He swore under his breath. Deadly skin might have been a good thing for Summers to clue him in on. More so than, say, her approximate height. Brown and white hair with deadly skin would have been a decent briefing that covered the highlights.

“Here,” he grunted and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyebrows shot up when he threw the flannel at her but she caught it never the less. “Put it on.”

“Why?” She asked but did it anyway. The material swallowed her whole, doing down almost to her knees. But more importantly the sleeves hung way past her hands. She seemed to catch his notion but tugged on the bottom of the shirt then shook her head. “It’s not long enough. It’ll ride up too much.”

He smirked at her and leaned down to her ear to whisper, “Who said anything about me touchin’ your legs, darlin’?”

She screamed in surprised when suddenly she was being lifted off the ground by her waist. Her arms instantly shot out to steady herself, wrapping them around his neck. For a terrifying second she thought she’d catch the skin of his shoulder not covered by his undershirt but the long sleeves of the flannel kept her hands hidden.

Nothing but one of his massive muscular arms was holding her up against his side, her legs dangling in the air. And he wasn’t even shaking from supporting her weight. She was impressed.

“You have some manhandling experience,” she teased. “Ah can tell.”

His only response was another rumbling laugh as he started walking toward the exit. Her leg dangling like that still hurt like hell but it wasn’t as bad as the hoping jerking it about. And there was no getting around that crawling would have sucked. So she just tightened her hold around the biggest shoulders she’d ever seen and tried to enjoy the ride.

When they stepped out of the warehouse and into the night air her heart dropped down into the pit of her stomach. He stopped walking at her little gasp.

“What’s wrong? Your leg?” He asked, although he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to make her more comfortable besides hurry his ass along and putting her in the van.

“No,” her voice was small, just a above a whisper. “Scott really did send you.”

He followed her eye line to realize she was staring at the van. “Told you.”

“Is he—is he--” she stuttered as he stared walking again. “Is—What’s wrong? Is he okay?

“He’s fine,” Logan grunted. He shouldn’t be. He should have been skewered. “A pain in the ass, but fine.”

“Why didn’t he come himself? Why’d he send you?”

“That’s a very good question,” he said as he jerked the passenger side door open. As he set her on the seat she whimpered and he looked down he realized he had pinned her hurt leg between the seat and his body. “Shit. Sorry, darlin’.”

“Ah’m fine,” she assured him but her voice wavered and her eyes were closed. When she opened them again they were a bit wild and hazy. He found himself leaning forward closer to her, resting his hands on her now covered thighs. “Ah’m fine, Ah just--”

“Give me the list,” he ordered gently. He’d done more than his share of rescues before back in the X-Men days. Not to mention been locked away himself a time or two. “In order.”

Her eyes cleared a little bit as she smiled at him. “Water. Then a bathroom. No, bathroom first. Then somethin’ ta drink, then food. Lot’s of food, preferably a cheese burger with fries and a milkshake. No, wait. Ideally a shower then food. Ah could enjoy tha food more if ah didn’t reek.”

“You got it.” He shut her door. A cheese burger did sound pretty good right now. He’d just have to find a place open at two in the morning. He just had one more thing to take care of first. “I’ll be right back.”

He headed back into the warehouse.