“How do I always get wrapped up in this shit?” Logan muttered out of the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t that he was worried about being found out. No. That ship had already fuckin’ sailed. He was just more concerned with how the hell they were gonna get out of the mess they’d gotten themselves in.

The hall was flooded in flashing tones of red and yellow, the blood-curdling scream of sirens blaring in his ears. Another swell of guards in gas masks and riot gear were rounding the corner, and the quick pop of gunfire made him grin with anticipation. Logan snarled as he sunk his claws deep into the nearest chest and beating heart he could find. His growl echoed along the long hallway along with a shout. A scream.

Wait. Her scream.

He whipped his head around, droplets of sweat and blood flying to see a fresh round of bullets had grazed Rogue’s left arm where she had been trailing behind him. The scent of her pain and fear ratcheted up several notches and he felt the beast within growl with anger.

“Fuck!” he rounded on her. “What the fuck did I tell you about getting shot, kid?!”

“I can take care of myself!” she shouted at him, even as she gripped her arm in pain.

“Really?” he gritted out as he dispatched the closest guard with another smooth slice of his claws through his skull. The man dropped like a stone and Logan turned back to continue yelling at her. “Then tell me what the fuck all that blood is about?” he snapped. She was seething, thoroughly angry at him. Good, he thought, even as he watched the flow of red trickle down her arm over the black leather. The shock of her pale skin was just visible where the bullet had torn through her uniform, and a ripple of disgust tore through him. He fucking hated it when she bled. She was better at protecting herself than she used to be, but goddamn. He couldn’t fucking stand it when she was in trouble. He always needed to be a step ahead of the shit storm she constantly felt the need to put herself in. Always tryin’ to prove herself.

At least he could still hear her trudging along after him, so it didn’t appear to be too bad. And as much as he hated the thought of her hurting, he knew from previous experience that the pain would help keep her focused. It would help her to stay alive and get the fuck out of there. Logan chanced another look back at her face as they rushed down the corridor, and he found her scowling at him.

“You shoulda been more careful. What are ya supposed to do when they other guys have guns? Fuckin’ stand there? No. Yer supposed ta get the fuck down.” He couldn’t help the growl of anger that issued from his chest. The scent of her blood just put him on edge.

“It’s just a scratch, Wolverine. Some of us bleed and keep bleeding. And you’ve been shot at least seven times already! So why don’t you stop worrying about me and just focus on getting us the hell out of here?”

A low growl issued from his throat at her response. He hated that tough little act, that hardened attitude she took on when she was hurt. Who did she think she was foolin’? Besides, didn’t she know by now that he’d get them out of there? That for the last ten fuckin’ years he’d always gotten them the fuck out of whatever shit they found themselves in?

He was thoroughly pissed that she was on this mission to begin with. Logan’d had a bad feeling about this place from the moment Chuck had briefed them on their objective. Whatever this newest attempt at annihilating mutant-kind was, it was apparently scary enough for even Charles to show the smallest amount of fear. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed, but Logan wasn’t just anybody. The telltale twitch of a muscle in his jaw was all the hint Logan had needed to know whatever they were about to uncover was truly fucked up.

It wasn’t until Xavier had announced that Rogue was to be en pointe for a critical stage of the mission that he’d nearly lost it. Rogue was better than she used to be on the ground, but she was still vulnerable. Still capable of getting hurt. Or shot, he thought darkly. The plans for the weapons system were complex and intricate though, hundreds of memorized passwords that were constantly updated and changing. The tech was too sophisticated to be infiltrated. A little piece or two of intell wasn’t going to cut it. What they needed was the weapon’s developer, or at least, his memories and thoughts.

And that’s where Rogue came in. She was their insurance policy. If they couldn’t get what they needed from the developers, then she was gonna have to put her neck out there and touch some bastard so they could win the fuckin’ day. The fact that Charles had never before asked Rogue to absorb anyone told Logan they were in a more desperate situation than the others realized.

From the moment they had breached the facility, they hadn’t stood a fuckin’ chance. Kitty had screamed over the comms that the security system had been activated and they’d better move their asses if they were going to have a chance at getting what they needed. They hadn’t even gotten close. They had barely made it past the outward perimeter when the alarms had wailed and a burst of static had exploded in their comms. They hadn’t been able to reach anyone else since.

A second team consisting of Shadowcat and that new smooth talkin’ asshole Gumbo or whatever the fuck his name was, had been headed into R&D to see how far along the build actually was. He had no idea what’d happened with those two after they’d lost contact. Once the security system had activated and guards started showing up he’d only had one priority, to get them the fuck outta there in one piece.

As a result, the mission was a goddamn lost cause, Rogue hadn’t absorbed anyone, and now he was dragging her sorry ass down a myriad of hallways, his mind buzzing as a flood of sensory messages threatened to inundate him. He tried to focus on those sounds and scents that would help save their asses and ignore the flaring of anger he felt at the piss-poor information gathering that had gone into this operation. The smell of smoke. The roar of gunfire. The sound of footsteps. Fuck. The other way then. The note of fear that was creeping into her voice as she tried again to reach the others on her comm.

No. Focus. He tried to recall the layout of the facility in his head that he’d memorized. An exit to the northwest and southeast quadrants of the building. But where the hell were they now? They had headed...east? Maybe? Fuck. When it was clear they’d been discovered, they had taken off running, not caring which direction they went when the fucking horde of armed guards came tearing down the corridor after them. If it’d just been him, he would’ve stayed and killed them all. But Rogue was with him, and as much as she’d learned in the last ten years, even she wasn’t immune to bullets. And because he wasn’t gonna let anything happen to Rogue, he’d made her run. It hadn’t been easy. Even as he was forcing her to safety, she’d been reluctant, tryin’ to tell him she’d be fine, that she could handle herself. And now, several minutes later, every single one of these goddamn empty sprawling hallways looked identical. They might as well be rats in a goddamn maze.

Acting on pure instinct, he went left at the next corner, semi-dragging a struggling and pissed off Rogue behind him. She was currently hurling expletives at him, and he tuned out her words - Damn the kid had a mouth on her when she was pissed - focusing instead on all of his senses to help them find a way out. He inhaled deeply, sensing the slightly less stale air to his right and tore around the next corner.

He tightened his grip on her uninjured arm and moved ahead, just as the the sound of a wall being blown apart down the hall had them skidding to a halt. The bastards had grenades. Fuck. Had to turn around. He didn’t want either of them to get torn up by that shit. Picking tiny shards of metal out of your skin was no way to spend an evening out. Even if they were livin’ it up in goddamn Siberia.

But then. Shit. Too late. The metallic slide of another pin echoing in the passageway met his ears. Instinctively, he whirled around to press Rogue’s body against the far wall, just as the opposite wall exploded and a heavy shower of cinderblock, smoke, and metal shrapnel rained down on them. Rogue’s quick inhale was swallowed by the sound of the debris crashing to the ground and Logan let out a grunt of pain as he registered a rather large piece of metal that had lodged itself between his shoulder blades.

Once the threat of any further falling wreckage had passed, even the plumes of smoke clouding the air couldn’t mask the fact that a fresh round of guards was advancing. He could hear them scrambling, struggling to get up and over the blown apart wall and he turned to face the next wave of assholes comin’ for them. They just didn’t stop.

Logan snarled, throwing his claws into the throng of guards, not giving a shit where they landed as long as they drew blood. He heard a grunt of satisfaction from Rogue at his back as she kneed the man at her right. A sickening sort of crack followed and she ignored his pitiful cry of pain as she wrenched the Glock out of his hands and started picking off the guards that Logan hadn’t disemboweled.

Logan shot her a quizzical look over his shoulder, before she threw the gun down to the floor, cocking one brow. “What? Desperate times…” she muttered, before she inhaled sharply. Puzzled at her reaction, he sniffed the air thinking she’d gotten fuckin’ shot again, but he didn’t sense any fresh blood coming from her. He stopped at the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder.

“Jesus, Logan. Hold still a second, would ya?” And before he could nod, she’d pulled, slowly working the piece of scrap of metal out of his skin. An involuntary hiss of pain left his mouth even as he was grateful for her help. His body would have forced out the metal eventually, but it would’ve taken him a hell of a lot longer to heal.

Her gloved fingers roved lightly over the shredded leather of his uniform as he felt his skin begin to close itself back up. He heard the smooth slide of leather against skin and then the unexpected warmth of her bare hands against the rapidly healing skin of his back. The nerve endings were still sensitive and he almost jumped at the unexpected feeling of her touch. He didn’t move and she didn’t breathe as her bare fingers made contact with the angry exposed skin, even as it knitted itself back together, and he found himself wanting her touch to linger just a bit longer. She so rarely touched anyone, even after having gained control of her skin, and knowing she was willingly touching him - why? He frowned. As reassurance? As a thank you? He shook off that thought and tried to refocus.

“You gonna touch Gambit next, chere?”

An involuntary snarl escaped from his lips as he jerked away from Rogue’s touch, the claws on one hand sliding smoothly out between his knuckles as he threw LeBeau, who had just rounded the corner, into the remnants of the wall behind them. Logan snarled, throwing the cocky-ass bastard a dirty look, pissed as fuckin’ hell that he hadn’t noticed Remy’s approach.

“What the fuck, Logan?” Rogue shoved his arm, claws still fully extended, away from the exposed skin of Remy’s neck, her eyes flashing with anger as she turned to face him. The brief calm of the previous moment was shattered by the Cajun’s sudden appearance and Logan was unexpectedly furious at the interruption.

He growled again, keeping his eyes on the swamp rat as his other hand kept him pinned against the wall, not minding one bit the grimace of pain that flitted across his smooth tanned face. Rogue once more rebelled, shoving at his muscled forearm trying to dislodge his grip on Remy, but this time Logan didn’t budge.

“Logan,” Rogue said with a hint of impatience in her voice. She was anxious too. He could smell it on the air. “Remy’s not the enemy. He’s on our team.”

Fuck. He knew she had a point, but something about LeBeau had Logan on edge the moment the slimy bastard had walked through the door of Xavier’s lookin’ to join the X-Men. Sure, Logan would admit as much as anyone that his powers were useful, but LeBeau’s prior associations made Logan suspicious. The man hadn’t done anything to prove himself, to prove his loyalty, and Logan wanted people he trusted on missions as fucked up as this one.

A smooth, cocksure grin appeared on the Cajun’s face as he focused on Rogue. “Dats right. Gambit is on your team, chere. Always on your team.”

Logan was unable to contain another threatening snarl, as he pressed the bastard even harder into the wall, the animal pleased at the look of pain lit across his features. “Back the fuck off, Cajun, or I swear to god I’ll shove these claws right through the jugular in that pretty little neck of yours.”

“Remy,” Rogue said impatiently ignoring Logan. “What happened to Kitty? Why are you here without her?”

Logan noted the fear creeping into Rogue’s voice, consuming her previous anger.

The Cajun shrugged as best he could with Logan’s huge fist shoved into his chest. “We got separated after an explosion. The comms went down. I think she made it back to the jet, but I don’ know, chere.”

After another quick sniff of the air, Logan was convinced that LeBeau was tellin’ the truth. Didn’t mean he had to like the fact that the slick bastard hadn’t screwed up. This time. The beast was taking a sick pleasure in causing the Cajun pain, and Logan didn’t disagree nearly enough to loosen his grip.

“Erghhh. Come on. Enough of this macho bullshit. Let’s go.” Rogue paused and looked between the two of them, her rising anger obvious as neither man made a move. “Now.”

Just then, the sound of more gunfire rang out, and Logan finally shook himself free of the animal’s anger enough to realize they were gonna be in a world of shit unless they moved their asses and got to the Blackbird now.

He released his grip on LeBeau and he couldn’t help but raise his lip in a snarl as he let the other man go. He noticed Rogue roll her eyes at his display as she waited for him to figure out which direction they needed to go.

Finally, his ears perked up at the howl of the wind. Blowing east. They were at the right end of the complex, and they were close to the rendezvous point. He ushered them forward down the ruined hallway, then he was easily slicing through the bolts on a heavy pair of doors, shoving them open. The wind was a blast of icy fire against their exposed skin as the outside air rushed over them.

A desolate expanse of white. Ice and snow everywhere, covering everything and the clearing...Empty. Empty white fucking shit snow where is the fucking jet? Logan jerked his head around the clearing eyes darting frantically for a sign of the Blackbird while his ears strained for a hint of its characteristic whining engines. Behind him, he heard Rogue’s breath hitch as she realized the world of shit they were in. The Cajun was blessedly silent, but Logan could still sense his own unease filtering through the freezing air.

Rogue spoke in a panicked voice from behind him as she took in the deep imprints in the snow from the jet’s landing gear. “But it was here. It was right here! Where the hell did they go?” She looked up to him, eyes wide and opaque, and something in Logan’s gut twisted.

He could only shake his head in response as the faint sound of more guns and men met his ears. “Fuck if I know. But we’ve gotta get outta here now if we’re gonna find out.”

Logan turned to make sure they were both following him as he led them away from the research facility and into the darkening pine and larch forest past the clearing. They needed to find cover, and quickly. The temperature was already well below freezing with the already setting sun, and the thick layer of snow at their feet was a dead giveaway for the direction they were headed. The leather of their uniforms wasn’t going to do shit to keep Rogue and the swamp rat from getting frostbite. They had maybe thirty minutes if they were lucky before any exposed skin started showing signs of damage.

And the clock was already ticking.

Logan tore through the snow ahead of her, and she followed the deep trenches left by his boots. Sure, he was making it easier for her to follow him, but damn. Couldn’t he slow down for just a second? She hadn’t caught her breath from running through the facility and now they were running again through snow up to her knees. The wind hadn’t let up either, and it bit harshly at even the smallest portion of uncovered skin. Logan seemed unaffected by the dropping temperature though, and he trudged forward, intent on heading through the thickening forest.

Rogue felt herself begin to shiver at the stinging, unrelenting force of the wind, tears forming in her eyes and feeling like they were turning into slivers of ice. She trusted Logan, but dammit it was cold, making it difficult for her to focus. She knew she was going to need to get warm, and quickly, if she was gonna get out of this mess with fingers and toes intact.

Remy must’ve felt the cold too, since he unwisely addressed Logan with an impatient tone in his voice. “You gotta plan in mind, homme?”

Logan didn’t turn back to growl, but Rogue heard his irritation rumble low and deep in his chest.

“We’ve got less than thirty minutes until the two of ya start suffering the effects of frostbite. It’s warmer south. So unless you’ve got a fuckin’ better idea…”

“But Logan,” Rogue couldn’t help but question him. South was a pretty damn big target when they weren’t prepared for the elements. “Where exactly are we gonna go? We’re in Siberia. The jet is gone. We have no way of contacting the team. Those assholes at the research facility are still back there. And we’re leaving them a track a mile wide to come after us!”

“Look, kid, I don’t know,” he barked back at her, his breath visible as it sharply cut through the air. “Why does it feel like I’m the only fuckin’ grown-up here? How bout you help me figure it out?!”

Rogue tried to bury her irritation at the way he addressed her as she continued after him. Why couldn’t Logan get it past that thick adamantium-covered skull of his that she was a grown woman entirely capable of taking care of herself? Sure. She’d gotten shot back there. But so had he. And she’d still managed to kill a hell of a lot of guards after that too. Her arm was still radiating in pain from the gunshot wound, but she hadn’t complained once. It seemed that no matter what happened, no matter how much time passed or how many missions she proved herself on, in his eyes nothing ever changed.

Suddenly, his whole posture shifted. Something about him tensed, and her whole body went rigid in response. The metallic slide of his claws, his feet suddenly planting deeply into the snow.

“Get ready,” he whispered sharply.

“Logan, wha-”

Then. She heard it. The buzzing and whining of several engines far off in the distance. The subtle whoosh and slice of snow being moved aside.

She saw Remy fumble in a pocket for some projectiles to charge, and she squared her shoulders as the three of them turned back the way they’d just come.

“Fuck,” she said as she shivered again. The temperature seemed to be dropping sharply with the setting sun, but she knew her shiver wasn’t entirely due to the cold alone.

“Snowmobiles headed our way. Three of ‘em,” Logan grumbled. He shot a look to Rogue, motioning to her with a tense jerk of his head.

“Rogue, get behind me,” Logan growled.

“Not a chance, Logan! Stop treatin’ me like I’m a child.”

“They’re likely armed, and you’re already bleedin’, kid. Stop bein’ stupid!”

Rogue rolled her eyes at him and turned toward Remy who was watching the exchange with a surprisingly passive look on his face. He smiled at her when she caught his eye and an idea came to her.

“Remy, can I touch you? Just for a second?” She sweetened her voice a little more than she might have normally, just to further piss off Logan. It worked. She heard a feral growl coming from his direction and he jerked his head at her, violence in his eyes. She ignored this tired display of overprotectiveness and smiled at Remy.

“You know you never need to ask, ma chère,” he said as he began to remove one of his gloves.

She stepped closer and took a deep breath. She knew she needed to brace herself. That much she had learned with difficulty over the years. When the connection opened up, when she willed it to happen, it always surprised her, overwhelming her with its intensity, even if she had been expecting it. This time, too, a flood of emotions filled every cell inside of her, leaving no room for her own thoughts or feelings.

Remy’s thoughts and memories threatened to overcome her the second she touched his hand, chilled with the sudden exposure to the frozen air. He was confident, so damn cocky and sure of himself. He - Jesus - he wanted her. Oh, fuck. Mistake. The thought echoed so loudly in her head, she wasn’t sure who had said it. His obvious attraction to her was swimming through her body, and she was suddenly, instantly, turned on by...herself. God, she could feel her body sinking into his attraction. She felt a surge of heat and warm wetness between her legs and shuddered as she saw herself through Remy’s eyes. She’d never really taken him seriously before, thinking he was just a damn flirt who wanted to get into her pants. But now, she wasn’t so sure.

The threads of his power blossomed beneath her skin, and she felt the energy practically crackling through her. Holy shit. Other mutant’s powers were amazing. She so rarely let herself touch anybody, even defensively, that she sometimes forgot how cheated she felt by her own mutation. Before his thoughts could overwhelm her, she swiftly broke the connection and shook her head, dizzy with the influx of power she’d just absorbed.

She was breathing hard, trying to come back to herself and ignore that slow, deep, pleasurable pulsing at her center and focus on what they had to do in order to survive. She noticed Logan starting at her, his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he raked his eyes over her body. He stared into her eyes for a moment and she wondered if they’d turned that same deep crimson as Remy’s.

“Fuck,” she thought he heard him utter as he turned back to the approaching sound. Rogue tore her glance over to where he was looking and finally saw them. Three small figures, growing larger and more threatening by the second. They began firing at a distance, and the sound of the quick shots tore through Rogue as she realized Logan had guessed right. Machine guns. That was it, big snowmobiles gaining quickly, two men on each machine, one firing at them wildly while the other closed the distance between where they stood and where they were coming from. The roar of the engines in her ears. More gunfire.

She wanted something, a weapon to wield. She knew Remy could charge objects which exploded on contact, but she didn’t have anything on her to let fly. “Here, chère!” Remy said, interpreting her frantic look correctly. He threw several spare playing cards at her, and she charged one up as she caught it, lobbing it directly at the nearest oncoming threat, sparks of pure energy flying behind it in the frozen wind.

The card exploded in front of one of the oncoming snowmobiles, ineffective and useless as its blast tossed nothing but snow into the air. Apparently her aim needed work.

“Damn,” she muttered, slightly ashamed of the miss.

“Don’ worry none about it, chère,” Remy said smoothly, one of his own cards scoring a direct hit on one of the men with machine guns and she ducked quickly as his last errant bullets flew wildly and without direction through the air towards them. “You’ll get the hang of it, especially if you keep touchin’ Remy for practice.”

The other snowmobiles kept their unwavering pace, the threat of men and bullets sliding closer with every second had them refocusing their attention quickly though. Logan bared his teeth, claws at the ready, and in mere seconds the bullets showered down on him, even as he wrenched his claws into the engine of a passing snowmobile. Violence seemed to explode from inside him - the animal rising up to protect them all, heedless and uncaring of the damage it took as it continued to rip and tear through man and machine.

The snowmobile careened sideways, smoking and obviously damaged beyond use, and Rogue couldn’t help the blooming frustration as she took in the ruined transport in front of her, blood and motor oil and gas hissing into the snow.

“Dammit, Logan! We needed all of those damn things!” She couldn’t help the pure frustration from coming through. “Make sure you don’t destroy the others so we can get the hell outta here!”

He snarled at her, and Rogue noticed the raw, feral look simmering in his eyes as he appraised her. The Wolverine stared back at her, chest heaving, his body tensed, blood and violence crawling beneath his skin. She could tell he wasn’t fully aware of who exactly she was for a minute because he sniffed at her and snarled again. She wasn’t sure why he’d growl after sniffing her now. Usually when Logan was shunted aside, a quick inhale would reassure the Wolverine of who she was and he’d relax. But this time her scent seemed to piss him off even more. But then he shook his head, his eyes cleared, and she saw that Logan had regained control and realized who she was and where they were. “How many left?!” he barked at her.

The remaining two vehicles abruptly changed course and zoomed to doubleback after seeing what an up close confrontation with Wolverine could result in.

“Two men driving!” she shouted as they began to circle back, this time separating into a left and right flank instead of a tightly packed group. More targets to hit, she thought angrily. They were splitting themselves up so they’d have a better chance at taking them down. Screw that, she thought as she took in their new strategy.

This time, she wasn’t going to miss. She summoned up her borrowed energy and forced it into another of Remy’s cards, intent on taking out the team on the left. She waited another second. Then two. She needed them to get just a little bit closer for her to feel confident in her aim. Yes, she thought as she measured the distance between her and the oncoming threat. She took a deep breath and let the card fly. It flew straight through the air and made a direct hit with the second snowmobile, causing both guards riding it to hurtle off into the deep snow. The snowmobile zoomed forward and into the trunk of a large pine tree, where it’s engine was suddenly cut off.

“FUCK!”

She jumped at the roar directly behind her and whipped around to face Logan. “What?!” She screamed back at him, completely unafraid of the rage he was emanating.

“You kiddin’ me?” He snarled, whirling back to face her, one hand pointed toward the crashed snowmobile. “You just yelled at me for destroyin’ one of those things and then you go and do the same damn thing and I don’t get to be pissed at you?”

Meanwhile, off to their right, another explosion sounded. Gambit expertly took aim and made a direct hit with one of his cards causing both the driver and gunman from the third snowmobile to go soaring through the air. A shower of red followed, and Rogue could do nothing but tear her gaze away from the sight of their lifeless bodies now staining the snow. Driverless, the snowmobile had careened and veered sharply into a large snowdrift, its engine idling loudly in the suddenly still air.

A quiet, gargled sound of pain echoed across a drift, and Logan jerked toward the source of the noise. One of the guards from the overturned second snowmobile was limping away from them,clearly intending to set off on foot. Before Rogue or Remy could make a move though, Logan had quickly stalked over to the limping man. A low snarl, a flash of metal, and the man fell into the snow once more. Dead.

Logan turned to Rogue, a fresh spatter of blood speckling his uniform. He was breathing heavily, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood and engine oil spreading through the icy air. Rogue allowed herself a moment to appreciate his physique. Even beneath the leather, she could make out the bulge of muscle. He met her eyes for a brief moment and she realized she’d been staring at him for too long. She broke away as the chill of a fresh stirring of frozen air met the bare skin of her face. Shivering. She tried to focus on what was next, but the cold and her throbbing arm was making it difficult to think clearly. She was getting tired too, the adrenaline from fleeing the facility and the fight in the snow had left her drained.

Remy cleared his throat pointedly. “Hey chère,” his voice was quiet. Gentle, as if he’d been interrupting something. “You think maybe we should take their coats? It’s only gonna get colder.”

Logan grudgingly turned to Gambit in a silent acknowledgement of the point he was making. They needed provisions, coats and gloves, or Logan would be the only one making it out alive. Rogue turned to stare at the nearest lifeless body, and she felt the chill pass through her, biting her lip. She was suddenly cognizant of the warmth of her breath as it hit the frigid air, the snow beginning to fall softly around them, as an eerie feeling descended on her. The sounds were gone, the air...still. They might as well have been standing in freshly turned graves.

Logan seemed to notice her hesitation, because then she felt the steady grip of his hand on her shoulder. He shook her a little, forcing her to look at him. “Just put on the fuckin’ coat, Rogue. He’s dead. Yer not, unless you wanna be, that is.” He shoved her away from him and strode over to the closest snowmobile and began to rummage through its compartments for supplies.

Rogue shuddered both with cold and the realization that she’d just killed several people. Being an X-Men for ten years, she was certainly no stranger to violence. Or danger, for that matter. But she’d still rarely ever had to take a human life. It didn’t sit well with her, even as she understood that it was either them or her.

Slowly, she stumbled in the snow over to one of the dead men. Blood stained the snow around him, burns and claw marks the evidence of how he’d met his end, white feathers peeking out through tears in the fabric of his coat. She extended one shaking hand to unzip the bloody parka, that still housed his remaining body heat and was stopped cold by Logan’s hand gripping her wrist.

She looked up at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told her to get a damn coat?

When he spoke, it was in a harsh sounding growl. “No. Not that one.” He held out an unbloodied coat to her in his other hand, and she was suddenly shaken by that small gesture. While she was unsure whether it was due to the fact that the blood on the coat she’d chosen was wet and wouldn’t keep in her body heat as efficiently, or because he just didn’t want to see anymore blood on her, she didn’t know. But she appreciated his action regardless and reached out to take it from him.

“Here,” Logan muttered, handing her a bundle of other items. “Yer gonna need this stuff too.”

He dumped the remaining contents into her outstretched hand and Rogue sighed with relief as she put on the stocking cap, gloves, and goggles. She wasn’t warm yet, but the extra clothes went a long way in slowing the leaching of her body heat.

Meanwhile, Remy was rifling through the leftover gear, having found his own warmer clothes to pilfer, and was coming back over to them with two bags.

“What do we got, Cajun?” Logan grumbled as he shrugged into another parka.

Remy was stomping through the snow toward them as he answered. “Two bags, two canteens of water, a flare gun.”

“And only one snowmobile?” Rogue muttered. They all turned back to look at the third idling snowmobile for a moment, and Rogue’s frown deepened. That was one ride she did not want to take. Crammed between Logan and Remy as they hurtled through the freezing air trying to find a way back to Westchester...

How the hell is that thing going to hold the three of us plus Logan’s stupid adamantium skeleton? She thought to herself.

“The second one is salvageable,” Remy responded.

“Good. You take that one,” Logan grumbled to Remy, setting his sight back on the third snowmobile still idling in the snow drift. “Kid, yer comin’ with me.”

Rogue clenched her jaw and whipped around to face Logan. “Why? Why can’t I go with Remy?”

“‘Cause yer bleedin’, internal temperature likely droppin’ a bit too. I’m,” he hesitated and his eyes flicked over Remy momentarily, “Taller. Got more body heat to share.”

“You go on with Wolverine, chère. We can cuddle up later tonight if all goes well.” And with that, Remy winked at her and strode over to the second snowmobile.

Rogue sighed as she strode over to where Logan had straddled the snowmobile.

“Do you want me in the front or the back?” She asked him as she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. The cold was making her insides feel shaky and loose and she just wanted to get warm.

Logan jerked his head up at her, one eyebrow raised nearly to his hairline. He looked her over for a minute as he considered what she meant. “Back. That way I’ll take the brunt of the wind as we’re movin’.”

She nodded and crawled up behind him, her legs plastered themselves against his longer ones, and sighed in relief as she started to relax her body against him.

“Put yer arms around me, kid. Yer gonna needta hold on tight,” he rumbled.

Hesitating, she felt an awkward awareness run through her as she snaked her arms underneath his and let them hover in the air a moment before allowing them to rest on his coat. He grunted once and grabbed her arms tighter against him.

“Yer freezin’, kid. Now’s not the time to be shy.”

She nodded in response and exhaled with the relief. He was right. He was warm. She instinctively rested her head up against broad planes of his back before her grip around his torso tightened. Meanwhile, the snowmobile was already roaring to new life as Logan backed it out of the snow, taking the lead to leave the sullied, bloody scene behind them.

Rogue wasn’t sure how long they rode. Night fell swiftly, time stretching out before them in the dark. The moon shone brightly against the white blanket of snow in front of them and the whine and purr of the engines began to lull Rogue into a sort of hypnotized state. She held herself closer to Logan as exhaustion overtook her. The roar of the engine was in her ears, the night was black and she felt herself drift, her consciousness fading in and out, as time ceased to exist.

The slow movements of Logan’s body caused her to stir and she noticed he was gradually slowing the snowmobile.

“Here’ll do,” Logan muttered as he cut the engine. Rogue peeked out from behind the warmth of his back to see a small cement structure in front of them. It looked abandoned; it had four walls and a door, and looked like it was a relic left over from the Cold War, maybe World War II.

“What is it?” Rogue’s voice was rough with disuse. She had no idea how much time had passed since they’d left the facility. Nights this far north this time of year could last far longer than the days.

“Dunno. Some kind of holding center, maybe.” He sniffed the air quickly. “Shit’s abandoned though. We gotta take some shelter soon. The temperature’s droppin’ too fast and there’s a snowstorm comin’. Needta be inside when it hits and this is the best we got.”

Rogue heard the whine of Gambit’s engine as he caught up and pulled up beside them. He killed his own engine and dismounted, whistling as he took in the structure in front of them.

“Looks like home sweet home, eh?” he said as he walked up to the door. It was heavily dented and rusted, but didn’t appear to be locked as he tried to turn the knob. Remy frowned. The knob was turning, but the door was stuck in the frame. A couple of hits with his shoulder later, he turned to Logan with a suave gesture. “Care to do the honors, homme?”

Rogue loosened her grip on Logan’s coat to allow him to dismount. Her muscles were stiff after the events of the day and she rolled her neck trying to loosen some of the tension. She was still exhausted, and she was going to need to have someone patch up her arm before too much longer.

Logan strode over to the door, grasped the handle, and with a smooth jerk of his arm, had wrenched the dented door loose of its frame with a harsh metallic scraping noise.

“Yer dead on yer feet, kid. Head inside and Gumbo and I will take care of the rides.”

She was too tired to argue and ignoring the protests of her muscles headed into the building. Rogue simply blinked as she took in what was in front of her. It was a dump. The place had already been ransacked, stripped of supplies long ago. Trash littered the ground. A metal desk, drawers hanging open, was shoved up against the nearest wall. And leaning against the far wall was a single stained twin mattress.

The shuffling of footsteps behind her had Rogue turning to face Logan and Remy. She saw their identical looks as they took in the space they’d be spending the night in, their eyes coming to rest on the single mattress.

All three pairs of eyes met, but it was Logan that spoke.

“Well, fuck.”

“Well, fuck.”

The light from the nearly full moon shone in through the intact, though filthy window on one wall, casting just enough light for Logan to see just how dilapidated the place really was. He took in the banged up desk, the trash littering the cracked concrete floor, and his eyes came to rest on the filthy mattress in the corner. It was still bitterly cold, and as shitty as this hole appeared to his senses, at least they were out of the elements and would live to see the morning. Logan took in the Cajun’s suddenly tense body as his crimson eyes met his and then flitted over to where Rogue stood. She was still shivering, arms folded close to her body as her tired eyes settled on the mattress.

Logan sure as shit didn’t want the swamp rat to tangle up with Rogue on the mattress, but at the same time, he knew they couldn’t go without someone keepin’ an eye out for threats. They were too vulnerable here, and Logan would be a fool if he underestimated the enemy’s resources and desire to eliminate them as a threat. He’d already seen firsthand what those people were capable of. They were well-organized, and had the money and means to execute their plans. And since the rest of the team had abandoned them, they were stuck in this shithole, veritable fuckin’ sitting ducks until the snow let up and Rogue and LeBeau had a chance to warm up. There was no question; they’d have to take turns on watch. But, fuck, how were they gonna choose? He clenched his jaw as he thought it over, glancing back to Rogue as he did so.

It was still well below freezing, and there was no denying that Rogue especially needed to warm up. He also knew he was the best one to give it to her. The bleedin’ on her arm had slowed. But he could smell the stale scabbing over of her wound, and it was gnawing at him. She needed to get that thing cleaned, a proper dressing too. That had to happen first, before anything else. Logan had lived through enough shitty situations in enough shitty wars to know that infection was a real threat; as invasive and persistent as those fuckers on the snowmobiles.

“That arm needs tendin’ to, kid,” he muttered.

She furrowed her brow, offering him a defiant stare in response. “Don’t worry about it, Logan. I’ll be fine once I get a little rest. It’s just a scratch.” But Logan was already shaking his head.

“You keep sayin’ that like it’ll make it true, but it needs cleaning. Trust me, you don’t want a wound like that gettin’ worse.” He turned toward Remy. “Cajun, you see a first aid kit on the snowmobile?”

Remy shrugged one shoulder and slowly rubbed one hand over his face. Shit, Logan thought, he’s fading too. He knew the Cajun didn’t have his stamina, but then again, not many did.

“Not sure, homme. I can go check.”

Logan nodded and Remy turned to exit the small shelter, the rusted door protesting loudly. Rogue turned to glare at Logan, arms still clutching her body through the parka. The kid was tired, annoyed, maybe a bit scared, though she’d certainly never admit it, stubborn as she was. Her body was caught in a constant shiver though, and that had him worried, too. It made him want to wrap his arms around her now and let her take as much body heat as she needed to get warm. As much as she needed. As much as it took.

“I’m really fine,” she muttered, a definite hint of obstinance edging her voice.

“I’m calling the shots on this one, kid. And yer not fine. Ya need heat and rest, in that order.” He folded his arms across his chest as he eyed her, daring him to contradict what he knew she needed. She was too damn stubborn to cede his point, and the only sign of her annoyance was the clenching of her jaw as she breathed.

Remy returned a minute later with a small zippered pouch with a red cross embroidered on one side. The rending of the zipper echoed loudly in the small space, bouncing off the concrete walls.

“Come on, chère. Time to clean that wound. Remy don’t want you gettin’ anymore hurt than you already are.”

Rogue exhaled in defeat as she leaned on the edge of the desk and quickly unzipped the thick parka and then reached around to undo the zipper of her uniform. She efficiently rolled down the leather, exposing her skin, shivering harder with the sudden chill. Logan couldn’t help but inhale sharply at the sight of her pale skin marred by dark crusted blood. It was deeper than he’d thought. Fuck. She’d lost more blood than he’d expected too, her uniform was soaked with it, and it stained her arm where it’d run down in rivulets. He mentally cursed himself for not payin’ enough attention. No wonder she’d been shivering so hard.

Goddamn her stubbornness. None of this would be a fuckin’ problem if she’d just let herself absorb a little of his healin’ factor. He’d be able to take care of that gouge in her arm from the bullet in no time. But the kid already had so much of him in her head already, so much so that he couldn’t even fuckin’ warrant asking her anymore. She’d refuse anyway. She always refused, ten fucking years of refusing any offers of healing, which sent a pretty goddamn clear message to him. She didn’t want, or need, anything more from him. Logan couldn’t really blame her though. He was fucked up enough to know that the those two previous times, especially that last time, had left her shaken, changed. But, still, tonight had proven that she didn’t seem to mind touching the Cajun all that much. And that didn’t settle right with him. God fucking damnit.

Remy was sorting through the small first aid kit and smiled as he held up a couple of alcohol wipes and a sterile gauze bandage. He quickly tore one of the wipes open, and Rogue hissed as it made contact with the raw and bloodied skin of her upper arm. Logan shifted his weight into his heels, willing away the antsy feeling in his joints as he forced his muscles to remain still, feet firmly planted in the same spot. He watched LeBeau’s hands lightly touching the smooth muscled skin of her upper arm as he cleaned away the dried blood with the alcohol, the results of which smeared dark red across Rogue’s skin. He felt the wildness of Wolverine rising up to take notice of her blood, he growled, didn’t fuckin’ like it, didn’t fuckin’ want that other man touchin’ her.

Logan shoved the animal back down with difficulty, but he couldn’t help his eyes from traveling up the length of her wound over her naked shoulder, up the smooth arch of her collar bone. Her skin was practically luminous under the pulse of her neck, and curve of her breasts nestled in her dark green sports bra. Her chest moved up and down, her breathing slightly choppy as LeBeau continued to clean her wound and she mentally worked through the pain. Occasionally, she shuddered involuntarily, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes. And every time it happened Logan felt his fists clench, the itch of his claws burning between his knuckles as he forced himself to stay put. He wanted to be the one helping her, and he wanted to be the only one touching her.

He could still smell the Cajun on her after she’d fuckin’ touched him to borrow his powers. Logan hadn’t been able to help his demand that she ride with him on the snowmobiles. Sure, he’d keep her warm, but he also wanted her to have to plaster herself against him, and maybe smell a little more like him because of it.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Logan realized she was finally speaking, effectively yanking him out of his thoughts.

“It’s a nasty gouge, but you’ll live, kid,” Logan muttered. She gave him an annoyed look, and hissed a bit as Remy wrapped the gauze around her smoothly muscled arm.

“No, not my goddamn arm, Logan. The weapon they’re building. Or they wouldn’t have been so intent on killing us.”

Logan frowned at that. He turned to look at LeBeau again, thinking. They’d never had a chance to ask him what he and Kitty had found in the development lab before the shit had hit the fan.

“Cajun, you make out anythin’ from R&D?” Logan asked, suddenly curious.

The other mutant only shrugged as he finished up the dressing on Rogue’s arm and murmured, “I don’ know what I was lookin’ at. But the Shadowcat, she seemed worried before the explosion went off.”

“God, I hope she’s okay,” Rogue said quietly, almost to herself.

He caught Rogue’s eyes as Remy finished wrapping her arm. He knew what she was thinkin’. If Kitty had been worried, whatever they’d been sent to investigate was likely a lot further along than they’d anticipated. Shit. Once they got outta this fucked up situation, there was gonna be another one to deal with right afterward.

“All done, chère,” Remy murmured smoothly as he tucked one edge of the gauze into the dressing securing it as best he could without tape. Something inside Logan recoiled with anger as he watched Remy run his hand down Rogue’s bare arm and squeeze her fingers where they rested on the desk in encouragement before he packed away the unused supplies.

“So, straws or what?” Rogue joked, glancing across the room at the mattress still leaned up against the far wall, before staring up at the two men once more. She’d clearly realized that one of them was gonna have to stay up and keep watch. Logan still didn’t know what he wanted more - to keep her warm, or to watch out for her safety. Luckily, Gambit was the one to break the silence through a tired sigh.

“Ah, ma chère. Your health is the most important. The Wolverine is correct - he is - taller. He can get you nice an’ warm, and Remy can be finishing up the night with you.”

Her scent flared with interest at Remy’s words, and Logan stifled a growl. He’d noticed her reaction too when she’d absorbed Remy earlier in the snow. Her scent had thickened with arousal and he’d fuckin’ hated that it was Remy that caused that type of a response in her. But by now, he was used to lettin’ her go about livin’ her life. Just because they were in the middle of this shitstorm didn’t mean he was gonna do anything different to mess up what she wanted.

Remy winked at Rogue before he turned his back to them both and settled in by the window keeping watch. The swamp rat had already realized what Logan instinctively knew. LeBeau may be a mutant, but his body heat was no more than a regular man, and Logan, well, Logan was different. He could keep her warmer for longer, at least enough to warrant taking the first shift.

Logan sighed before he moved over to where the filthy mattress lay propped up against the far wall. With an easy flick of his wrist, he tossed it down to the center of the small room. He didn’t like the way it smelled, but he couldn’t do shit about it. Rogue looked down at it in mild disgust before bringing her gaze upward once more.

“It ain’t much, kid. But it’ll do. Softer than concrete, right?” he asked.

Something deep and dark gripped him as he stalked over to where she stood. She looked at him hesitantly, a soft vulnerability in the brown of her irises. She was still partially uncovered, the dressing starkly white across her upper arm.

“Yer gonna need that jacket, kid. Best cover up,” he found himself muttering.

He noticed her blush, even as she started zipping up the uniform and coat once more. He turned from her then, giving her as much privacy as he could, and lowered himself to the mattress. He stretched out his long legs and placed his hands behind his head, forcing himself to appear relaxed even though he felt anything but. She stared at him for a moment, blinking.

“I won’t fuckin’ bite, Rogue. Just lay down,” he grumbled. She frowned slightly, even as she lowered herself to her knees on the mattress next to him. lt was an awkward moment as they both settled in, and he could practically feel the tension strung through her muscles, even though she had kept a small but careful sliver of space between them. Some time passed in silence as she restlessly shifted on the mattress, and he finally heard her exhale frustratingly as she tried to get comfortable. She was a twitchy thing, and Logan felt himself grow steadily annoyed at her inability to stay still.

“Settle down, kid,” he muttered.

“My arm is killing me,” Rogue said, her voice slightly rough with that sort of desperate fatigue. “And it’s freezing. How the hell am I supposed to sleep?” she asked, a definite note of annoyance in her tone as she turned to him sharply. The sudden movement caused her long hair to fan out, causing a wave of scents to move through the air toward him. The crisp scent of snow and ice, the underlying scent of smoke from the grenades and gas from the snowmobiles, and her own unique scent underneath it all; fresh grass, sunshine, the smell of good tilled earth and herbs. It was something that always spoke to the Wolverine, the clean smell of nature that emanated from her. Something he craved.

He frowned as he cocked an eyebrow at her. “It’d help if you got closer to me, kid. I’ve got plenty of warmth for the both of us. Once you get warm you’ll start to relax. Now’s not the time to be shy. ”

Even before she had fully complied, Logan was guiding her, turning her gently so she was on her right side, her back against the long line of his body. He turned into her body then, and he slowly lowered his arm around hers, careful to avoid the area where her bandage was beneath her coat and uniform. His lips were now a hairsbreadth away from the nape of her neck. Her scent was even stronger here, and with difficulty he forced himself to ignore the sudden impulse to use his teeth and tongue against that tempting pulsing throb of her heartbeat. She had stopped twitching, body becoming heavier, encompassed as it was by his own, but he still sensed notes of her restlessness. After a bit of time, he felt her sigh against him once more.

“I can’t stop thinking. My mind won’t shut off,” she mumbled. He felt the vibrations of her words against his chest, and he shut his own eyes as he struggled to find the right words. I can think of somethin’ to help tire you out, darlin’, why don’t you lift one of yer legs and I’ll rip off those pants and - Jesus fuck. The thought had been so fucking clear. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He shook his head slightly, losing that train of thought, even though his grip tightened instinctively around her. He was so fuckin’ close to her that his lips were practically hovering just beyond her ear, and suddenly he was murmuring to her whatever came in his mind.

“Just… let yer mind drift. Right, kid? Listen to my breathin’. Feel the rise and fall of my chest against your back. Tune out everythin’ else and follow it.” He could tell it was helping, felt her body slowly giving way. Her breath became even and slow as he kept speaking. “Feel it in yer nose, chest, and abdomen. And then follow it back out. Feel my warmth seep into your bones. Feel it radiate out toward your arms, legs, hands, and feet. And just, breathe.”

And then the rest of her body sort of melted into him, finally relaxed and comfortable. It was in the steady rhythm of her breath, the way she fell into herself, finally. Utterly trusting in her sleep.

The night stretched itself out as a quiet stillness descended on them all. Soon, the only sounds were that of their breath and LeBeau, who was still standing by the window, occasionally shifting his weight. Logan had to hand it to the swamp rat; the man knew how to stay alert, even in the throngs of bitter cold and overwhelming exhaustion.

Sleep didn’t come for Logan. He knew it wouldn’t. Her scent was intoxicating; he was swimming in it. He hadn’t been this close to the kid in, god, fucking years. Rogue was always one to keep her mind at an arm’s-length from the rest of her, but now that she was asleep, that tension fell away. Fucking hell. What the fuck did that mean? The Wolverine growled in the blatant answer to the question, but Logan was quick to stiffen at the same response.

Ever since Rogue had gone off to college and experienced a bit of the world, she’d come back a spitfire, hell on wheels. Now, she was dangerous. Powerful. Her mind and her body were quick, as was evidenced by the way she had taken up that fucking gun and had mowed over those sorry fuckers back at the research facility. It was fuckin’ unsettling, all that power. And there was no denying, that because of it, their relationship had developed an edge. It had sharper corners now. And goddamn him if it didn’t stir something deep inside him.

She’d always been the student to his teacher. The mentee to his mentor. And right now all he could think about was rippin’ off that leather with his fucking teeth. Get a fuckin’ grip. Jesus. He was a goddamn animal. One whiff of her, one brush of her hair against his lips, and he couldn’t think of anything else.

He willed his mind to focus. For a long while, he zeroed in on the sounds around him. The steady rise and fall of her breath, the thud of her heart in her chest. Occasionally she would whimper in her sleep, soft sharp intakes of breath that prickled that place inside of him that he kept shoving aside.

After more hours slipped away, he finally heard LeBeau fumbling around in the dark, doing god knows what, and Logan’s eyes snapped open. Fuck. He’d forgotten all about the swamp rat. He didn’t wanna get up, didn’t want to leave her side, but he knew it wasn’t fair for LeBeau to keep watch all night. He didn’t have Logan’s healing, and he needed rest, just as Rogue did. Logan grumbled as he pushed himself up smoothly from the mattress and tried to ignore the small noise of loss Rogue issued in her sleep as her unconscious mind noticed the sudden lack of warmth.

Maybe it was a result of the line of thought he’d been perusing, but he couldn’t help but give a low growl of warning as LeBeau neared the edge of the mattress. “You try anythin’ on my watch, swamp rat and I’ll make damn sure you don’t leave this continent with both balls intact.”

The Cajun stopped mid-stride and cocked his head as he appraised Logan, those fuckin’ red eyes glowing in the semi-darkness. “What’s it to you, homme?” he responded quietly. “You think you gotta protect ma chère here? She’s a woman grown, she can choose who she wants, and she don’ need the Wolverine to save her from big bad Remy.”

“Just keep yer hands - and yer dick - to yerself, Cajun. She needs rest, not for some smooth-talkin’ red-eyed creep to feel ‘er up,” he growled. Fuck this smug asshole for questioning him. He felt a tick in his jaw as he noticed LeBeau scooting closer to Rogue, taking the position that Logan had been enjoying just a minute ago. He didn’t want to fucking see that. It seemed wrong for someone else to be enjoying breathing in the heat from her body.

Logan strode over to the window, keepin’ one eye on Remy as he settled in next to Rogue, and another on the cold quiet night. The snow was comin’ down harder now, obscuring their tracks. Good, he thought.

Hours passed. He wasn’t sure how many. But slowly, something changed, and the snow on the ground seemed to illuminate on its own. The sun would rise soon. The whole world seemed to shift just slightly with his realization, and his ears perked as he heard the change in her breath. It grew more shallow, she began to stir, restlessly. She was waking up. And then, like clockwork. There was a subtle shifting of her body, and her eyes blinked open, confused and drowsy in the early, pre-dawn light, even as Remy still snored beside her.

“You doin’ alright, kid?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want the swamp rat to wake up.

She groaned slightly as she sat up, body protesting as she tested the movements in her injured arm. “Ugh. My arm feels like shit,” she hesitated, then blurted out, “And I’ve gotta pee.” She sighed as she got up from the mattress, rolling her shoulders to work the kinks out. He couldn’t help but watch the movements of her body as she tried to loosen her stiff muscles. The uniform, while never really that comfortable to begin with, was always a pain in the ass to sleep in, the leather would ride up, bunch, and was generally all-around uncomfortable. She tugged at the sleeves of her coat and when that failed to force her uniform back into a comfortable place, she sighed in frustration as she jerked down the zipper of the parka. Logan watched as she pulled at the fabric, realigning it to its proper position, and couldn’t help but notice the press of her breasts as she tugged the uniform back into place.

“You sleep okay?” he asked, tryin’ to take his focus off her body.

She raised one of her eyebrows at him as she quickly zipped her coat back into place, and he let out a small chuff of air at her reaction.

“Yeah, definitely got my beauty sleep on that ancient stained creaky-ass smelly freezing mattress.”

“Well, kid. Sorry I don’t have yer usual coffee for ya. But there’s a plenty big bathroom right on the other side of the door if ya need it.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly as she headed for the bent metal door. She turned the handle and pulled, a creaking rusty sound echoing through the small room. But the door didn’t budge, having apparently settled again during the long night. She let out an exasperated sigh and turned back to face him. “You mind?”

He grunted as he strode over and easily swung the door loose from its frame. He held one arm aloft as she exited the room, shivering as a fresh blast of icy air stuck her face. “Stay where I can see ya,” he called after her as she strode out into the snow.

“I’ll pee wherever the hell I want, Logan!” she called after him.

Logan couldn’t help but snort in amusement, and he kept his eyes glued to her slight figure as she trudged further and further into the woods. She disappeared behind a large pine tree trunk and the thick falling snow finally caused him to lose sight of her.

He kept his gaze locked onto the tree where she’d disappeared, counting the minutes before she came back into sight. One minute. Two. Then three. How long does it take a girl to pee in the woods? He thought violently. He didn’t like that he couldn’t see her, but he’d respect her privacy all the same. He didn’t envy her, that was for damn sure. Havin’ to bare her skin to that fuckin’ freezing air just to relieve herself?

Four minutes. Five.

Six.

What the fuck? He stilled his body as his ears pricked at a sudden noise. Had she screamed? Or was that just the fuckin’ wind? The hair on his arms stood straight up, as he heard another noise. A faint snarl echoed across the snow and the bitter taste of adrenaline flooded his mouth as he tore out of the shelter, trudging through the snow as fast as he could. It’d fallen at least another foot during the night, and came up to mid-thigh.

“Rogue!” he called out, heedless of alerting another person to his presence. He didn’t give a shit if they heard him; he’d fuckin’ rip their guts out if they’d hurt her.

And then, from just off his right shoulder, he heard what sounded like a growl. Logan’s ears perked as he turned his head around quickly toward the source of the noise. Was it another feral mutant? Fuckin’ Sabretooth? Then he heard it again and fear ripped through him. Fuck. The air was tinged with electricity, like those final moments right before a knock-out bloody gruesome fight. And still, he didn’t see her.

“Marie?!” he shouted, desperation coloring his call, whipping his head this way and that. White. Everything was fucking white. He was sick of all this goddamn snow.

The same sound came again. This time, more clear and off to his left. The animal in him rose up, now just underneath the surface, responding to the threat of violence. Several hearts beating, wild and erratic. The sound of panting, the origin of the noises constantly shifting around him.

The animal was itching, claws out, ready to bury them inside the warm innards of the threat. And then he saw one. A flash of light grey overlaid on white. Another sniff of the air and he realized. These weren’t feral mutants, these were simpler, more base creatures. They were animals. A fuckin’ pack of wolves. Two to his right, one ahead. Another one rounding on his left. A fifth somewhere else. Rogue...nowhere. Where the fuck was she? Logan snarled, whipping around in the snow. They were surrounding on him, one on each side. That’s why packs were so fucking useful; they could overwhelm you from any angle.

Logan tried to calculate the best strategy, weigh his options, but he was fighting the Wolverine’s desperate rage too. He could feel the restraints slipping, the chains were threatening to snap entirely. And then. He smelled it. The sharp tang in the air. Coppery and pungent. Blood. Fucking goddammit her fresh blood. It wasn’t just the slow trickle of a bullet graze either. It was a gush of warm life leaching out of her and he still didn’t know where the fuck she was. And just like that, the chains gave way and Wolverine roared as he took in the puny threats surrounding him. He charged the nearest beast, his snarl of rage and violence rebounding off the frozen trees, as his claws ripped and shredded through warm flesh and bone.

His instincts reared up and took over, Wolverine rising to the challenge of fighting with the more primitive beasts surrounding him. The claws whirled through the air, the weak morning sunlight flashing off the adamantium before they were covered in the blood of the animals. He defeated them almost too easily. Every bite, every searing jolt of pain, was worth the effort to put them down quickly. It meant he could get to her that much faster.

A whining yelp from the last beast sounded across the snow and Wolverine snarled as he sniffed the air, desperate for a hint of her scent. There. It was coming from the east, behind a group of mature larch trees. He tore through the snow, leg muscles burning with the efforts at rendering the icy landscape. A flash of red and back from behind a tree. He sniffed again and frowned as he continued forward. He could sense Rogue, but there was something different, something sharper about her scent. It was wild, and the Wolverine was intrigued by the dissonant edge to her usual notes.

Another growl met his ears and he released the claws again, intent on gutting anything that had hurt her. He skidded to a stop near a cluster of pine trees as he whipped his head around furiously. Where? And then…by the edge of the bank of a frozen stream, he saw her.

Blood spattered and steamed in the snow turning it from virgin white to ruined red. A broken, limp form, fur jutting out in places was draped across her body. And then, the steady thud of her heart. Still beating. He exhaled in relief. As he made his way toward her, he realized the wolf that had attacked her was dead. But it wasn’t the wolf’s blood seeping into the ground, it was hers, and she’d lost a lot of it based on the deep pockets of red marring the snow.

He could only snarl as he rushed by her side, only to freeze in his tracks at the growl that met his ears.

She was laying prone, flat on her back in the cold damp ground. The blood was coming primarily from her right thigh, her uniform had served as little protection from the attack and he could make out the deep gouges and puncture marks left by the wolf’s jaws.

Rogue’s head jerked toward him and he couldn’t fuckin’ believe what was staring back at him. Her eyes were dark, opaque, and he saw an unending void in them as they locked eyes while she slowly rose up. Then, she gave another harsh growl in his direction, the curl of her lip ticking up, her legs seeking purchase in the frozen ground. The slow shifting of muscle and skin as she heaved the last of the wolf’s body aside, and then she was stalking toward him. Purely feral, entirely animal. And he knew in that moment exactly what had happened.

She’d killed the fuckin’ thing to protect herself. By touchin’ it. Fucking christ.

Another snarl, and Logan couldn't help but growl back. The deep timbre of his growl put hers to shame as it reverberated against the quiet morning of the forest. But she didn’t stop her pursuit. She maintained that slow saunter toward him, her eyes fathomless as her intentions were broadcast in the language of her body.

So that was how it was gonna be. That kinda language.The kind that didn’t need words. About damn time, was the last coherent thought he had. He’d make her understand. Make her realize, and the Wolverine snarled with satisfaction.

She was his.

She was hurt. She knew that much. Her leg throbbed with the pulsing beat of her heart, and she could feel the warm wetness of blood pouring out of the wound. It was chilling rapidly with the freezing air, and she knew she’d have to return to the warmth and safety of the others, and the den, soon.

She opened her eyes and things were sharper, keener than before. The forest seemed brighter and clearer in the pre-dawn light, even though the sun was yet to show its face. She frowned. The forests’ scents were amplified too, and she could sense the coppery tang of her blood, her fur, and something else. Something foreign - but not. It was her, but it was a stranger. She was confused. Since she didn’t know what to think of that scent, she let the troubling thought go.

A sudden roaring from the west met her ears. The yowl and yelp of her pack. Hurt. Dying. Dead. An unfamiliar yet comforting scent on the air. A stranger. A friend. An intruder. An ally. No. A threat approaching. She growled. She would show no weakness. No hints of her injury.

A voice suddenly echoed inside her mind, and she frowned. What was that noise? It seemed like she should understand, but the capability to do so was just out of reach.

The threat showed himself. He was large and heavily muscled. But she uttered another growl regardless. It was deeper, and longer this time. She would show the male she was not intimidated. He snarled back at her, the sound echoing against the trees, and she fought to suppress the shiver that wracked her body. It was a sound full of fury and fear. And power. Then, she scented the air again. He’d killed them. He had killed her pack. Their blood was all over him. She was incensed. Furious. She’d make him pay. Her life meant nothing, was nothing, without the rest of them.

He stalked toward her slowly, edging her up against the bank of the stream. She felt her hackles rise as she recognized the predatory glint in his eye, his desire to corner her, make her feel weak and without options. She would not allow him to gain control of this fight though. She stood taller and faced him without fear in her eyes. Another warning snarl issued from her throat at his continued approach.

His move toward her was relentless, and he rolled his shoulders, a popping noise sounding in the forest, as he prepared himself to lunge. His scent reached her again, and she felt the first stirrings of doubt. There was - something familiar, something comforting and intriguing about it. But she couldn’t name it. It made her feel things that she couldn’t possibly associate with this male who had killed her pack. Familiarity. Safety. Comfort. Trust.

She missed it. She missed the decisive moment in his golden eyes. A snarl, a snap. And the snow flying as he slid toward her. He snarled back as he threw his weight into her, knocking her to the side. A yelp tore through her throat as the searing pain in her leg registered with the pressure, and she felt it crumple beneath her. She wasn’t down for long, but twisted her body, contorting herself to escape the incredible weight of him, and she was back on her feet, trying to find an opening in his posture to strike. But he moved again, too fast, too quick for her to react, and he rolled his body against her, forcing her to the cold frozen ground.

He was holding her down now, his muscled forearm leaning into her throat as she writhed beneath him, still snapping, ripping, tearing. She was desperate to gain the upper hand and turn him on his back and clasp his throat between her teeth. His left side leaning into her chest, his other hand tightening on her arm as his breath slowed. His chest was still heaving with the fight and his lip was curled upward in a snarl. His eyes collided with hers and she would not look down. Would not show submission. He growled at her in warning, the threat of her disobedience clear.

He straddled her pelvis, pressing his weight into her body, willing her to still. She feigned quiet, feigned submission and bid her body to quiet itself. He stopped his efforts to subdue her and narrowed his eyes as he took in her posture. She glanced away and turned her neck, exposing the vulnerable pulse of her blood to his teeth. His scent changed then. The promise of dominance was now threaded with lust.

The male leaned in to sniff her and she struck. She threw her head forward into his and took great satisfaction at the cracking sound that rent the air. A yelp of surprise and his grip loosened just enough for her to turn over and gain a foothold in the icy ground. She was scrambling, trying to gain traction as he roared in her ear and twisted her around again to slam her into the ground once more. The breath was knocked from her abdomen with the force of his body and she froze, helpless as he pressed himself against the length of her. The warmth of his breath was against her face as he sniffed at her again, a low rumble deep in his chest vibrated against her in warning. He was pissed at her deception, furious that she’d resisted him.

The pain in her leg was throbbing now, radiating outward, and she could feel herself losing strength with the blood that stained the snow. Their breath intertwined in the sharp morning air. Another low growl issued from his throat as he tightened his hold on her. The pressure against her leg increased, and then a whine, a whimper from her own lips. She had lost. She conceded.

But he wasn’t satisfied. Wasn’t taking her actions for granted this time. He snarled and pressed himself closer to her neck, scenting her, breathing her in. A sudden change and she could feel herself submitting. She hated it but couldn’t help the instinct that ran through her. He’d dominated her physically in the fight, and he was showing her that he’d won. A ripping sound and a desperate snarl met her ears as he drove his jaws into the exposed skin of her throat.

Lips. Tongue. Teeth. Lust. Fuck. The sensations ripped through her at the first contact of his mouth against her throat. And she wanted. God, she wanted him. He snarled in approval of the tilt of her neck, the relaxing of her body against his as she accepted his claim on her.

And then… the pull. A strong wave of complex and layered emotions inundating her. Confusion. Anger. Lust. Then, she was taking more. The hints of emotion became entire moments, snippets of memory and thoughts, troubling fears and tiny joys. The feelings of concern from him in the facility as he watched Rogue roughly wipe the blood from her eyes. The rumbling warmth deep in his chest as she had shot him a look, the arch of one brow. The budding lust from the feel of her body as she lay down on the mattress beside him.

And then, there. Finally, the sharp ache of consciousness once more blooming in her mind. His consciousness. Hers. Both now. A man with complicated emotions and contradictory thoughts. His doubt of his own capacity to be good. His struggle with others’ acceptance, and also the acceptance of himself. And, there, over all of it the need. The fierce need to protect, to provide, to bury himself inside her skin and envelope himself in her warmth. To be there beside her and have her keep him whole.

A sudden emptiness as the rush of thoughts broke off, and she felt the lessening of the weight on top of her. The male - no, Logan, shook his head briskly as he stared down at her, chest heaving with the force of their recent struggle. His lip was still curled up in a snarl as he gazed down at her.

Rogue. Marie. That’s who she was. Jesus. The strains of animalistic instinct still roiled within her, along with his thoughts and she wanted to lay back down on her back, open her thighs, and welcome - Fuck! She shook herself out of that dangerous line of thinking. Her mind was whirling, the recent influx of the mind of the wolf and Logan danced inside her, twirling together, the instincts of Wolverine and the wolf mirroring each other in a sick sort of synchronicity.

He moved off of her then, she felt his weight leave her, and she felt a spark of surprise at the feeling of emptiness that settled over her. Something was suddenly missing. Gone. She stared at him wildly as he looked up at her, hazel eyes returning and breath skill uneven and heavy, when a sharp tsk met the air.

“Que se passe?!” A sudden shout from Rogue’s left had both her and Logan jerking toward the source. Remy stood beside the large trunk of a pine tree in half-fighting stance, a look of bewilderment on his face. “You are covered in blood, chére!”

Rogue glanced down at her leg, feeling the throbbing pain of the wolf bite dissipate as Logan’s mutation flooded her body. She could smell the lingering effects of the stirrings of her own arousal, as well as the spike in Logan’s scent as he’d let the Wolverine take over. It was tinged with wildness and lust, and longing, and she didn’t know what the fuck to make of it.

“What the hell happened, chére?” Remy asked, walking cautiously over to her. And then, sensing her unease, he turned to furiously round on Logan. “What did you do to her?” His voice was full of accusation and anger.

“I didn’t...fuck. I didn’t fuckin’ do shit except save her ass, Gumbo,” Logan snarled, now standing slowly to his feet, before gesturing furiously to her. “I turn my back for a few goddamn minutes and the kid managed to get herself attacked by a pack of fuckin’ wolves.”

“Dis true, chére?” he asked, his voice softer as he addressed her.

Rogue couldn't’ respond. She could only continue to breathe, looking blankly at Logan, struggling with the recent influx of instincts and feelings running through her. If she hadn’t absorbed Logan’s healing, she’d likely be going into shock, or dying. Dammit, she thought harshly. That’s another time he’s saved my life. How am I supposed to ever make things even between us?

“You kill them all?” she asked him quietly. He only nodded, before tilting his head to something behind her. “All but that one, kid. You did that.” Rogue turned around slowly, glancing at the grey and white fur now matted with blood, her blood, in the snow, beginning to realize now the full extent of what had just happened. She couldn’t have been gone from the shelter more than fifteen minutes.

“Fuck,” she muttered, as she woozily put a hand to her head, Logan’s senses still pulsing hotly inside her. Once she’d begun to process what was happening, she’d felt all of the instincts of the wolf and Wolverine swirling together. The feral, animalistic thoughts of protection and possession were oddly shocking. She could understand the wolf’s nature - Logan had killed her pack - but the Wolverine, that odd duality of wanting to keep her safe and own her. She didn’t, couldn’t, understand that. It had been so long since she’d had to take some of his healing, that she’d been unprepared for the new layers of complexity, of nuance. His thoughts had been nothing like this before. Now, things had changed. She had taken so much.

“Are you...ok?” she asked Logan finally, unable to bring her gaze to meet his.

“Fine,” he growled, crossing his arms as he did so.

Rogue exhaled sharply in frustration. She was familiar enough with that look. He wasn’t gonna say another goddamn word about what had just happened. He’d done what he’d needed to to keep her alive, and that was it.

A low growl echoed in her mind and she jerked at the sudden sound. It was her recent acquisition of Wolverine. He was so clear right now, pacing, looking out for her. Wanting to protect her, wanting other things from her too. She sucked in her breath at the sudden impression of raw, primal lust that he gave off and she closed her eyes to steady herself. Even if if the Wolverine wanted her, it was clear that Logan wasn’t going to act on those instincts. He kept forcing those thoughts down, keeping them locked, caged, his goddamn honor preventing him from going after what he wanted. Too convinced of his own shortcomings, his fear of hurting other people stifling his true desires. She’d long ago dealt with the realization that he’d never allow himself to look at her that way, as an equal, as somebody who could match his darkness with some of her own. Somebody who could dish it out as well as she could take it. The truth was, she’d enjoyed that wild primal instinct running through her. Too much. She’d wanted that bite to linger. Wanted the sharp scrape of his teeth to work down the length of her neck and taste her. Christ. With difficulty, she took a moment to box up the fresh personalities in her mind, compartmentalizing and quieting them. She needed to focus on her own thoughts now. Not waste her time over something that would never happen.

Rogue refocused on the situation unfolding in front of her and saw Remy shoot Logan another look, the red of his eyes still laced with blatant suspicion. Rogue knew that Remy, being an empath, had probably worked out the particulars of the situation before she had. The copper haired mutant sighed, before walking over to Rogue, offering her a gloved hand to help her to her feet, murmuring a “No worries, petit. Remy’s got you now.” She smiled weakly at him. Her legs were wobbly beneath her, but the leg injury was healed. Her arm, too, had stopped throbbing, the first time since she’d been shot.

“You all healed?” Logan grumbled.

“Uhh, yeah,” she said, gripping her arm once more, frowning as she worked out the achy pain that came with her skin stitching itself back together.

“Great. Guess that means you can start pullin’ yer own weight,” he barked roughly, and Rogue’s frown deepened. “Come, both of you. We’ve wasted enough fuckin’ time as it is and we need to find a way out of this shithole.” And with that, Logan turned on his booted heel and began to head back to the shelter.

Rogue shoved away the spark of irritation she felt at Logan’s behavior as she watched him walk away, the deep snow flying behind him, leaving a deep path for them to follow. Remy turned toward her again, placing one arm gently around the small of her back, softly urging her forward. “Après vous, chére.”

The short back to their abandoned shelter passed in silence, Rogue’s mind turning over everything. Remy must have sensed her restlessness, for he tried to engage her in conversation, his voice trailing off as he realized she wasn’t interested in talking. She just wanted to calm her thoughts. Forget the complex threads of emotions and instincts that had been forced upon her, and go back to just being Rogue.

They found themselves back at the cement structure in just a few minutes, the rough sound of metal being slammed into something reaching her sensitive ears. She could make out Logan’s movements inside the walls, could sense the tension coming off him from outside. She could detect her soft scent of sleep on the mattress, mixed with Logan’s and Remy’s, and she heard his rough pacing, the slam of the mattress against the wall as he growled with frustration.

Rogue and Remy strode into the building, stamping off the remnants of snow from their boots. Logan was haphazardly shoving medical gauze and kanteens back in their packs, scouring the shelter for anything else they could use, before he was roughly yanking them closed.

“You need any help?” Rogue asked, trying to break the tension she could sense rolling off him.

Logan only growled, shoving one of the packs in her hands. “Already done,” he said. Rogue’s frown deepened as she gripped the sides of the bag, before turning toward Remy.

“You two enjoy yer stroll through the fuckin’ winter wonderland?” he asked, his voice low and with a dangerous edge. Rogue knew he wasn’t entirely in control of himself right now, he was letting his instincts lead his actions. The fight with the wolves had roused his predatory instincts, and for whatever reason, Logan was having a hell of a time suppressing them.

“Of course, homme,” Remy said smoothly as he turned to face Logan, a sly grin on his face. “Who wouldn’t enjoy such time with ma chére?”

A low snarl of warning issued from his chest at Remy’s words and Logan froze at the blatant challenge in Gambit’s tone.

“Fuck off, bub,” Logan snarled.

“Or what.” It wasn’t a question. Remy had stepped forward, his hand moving toward the now unzipped lining of his coat where Rogue knew he kept his cards.

“You know what, swamp rat,” Logan said as Rogue heard the smooth slide of metal releasing from between his knuckles. “There’s only one way this thing would go, and it begins and ends with me guttin’ yer sorry ass.”

A spark of red fluttered against Gambit’s fingertips as he reached for a card. “I’d like to see you try, le con carcajou.”

“Enough!” Rogue exploded forward and shoved each man back, her temporary borrowed strength allowing her to move even Logan’s heavy frame back a few steps. “I’m beyond sick of this bullshit between you two.”

Logan’s look was fiery as he rounded on Rogue, their eyes locking for one torturous unending moment. Finally, he broke his gaze, sneering at the pair of them as he retracted his claws and stormed out of the shelter, without a word.

“You ride wit’ Remy dis time, chére,” he said as he let the charge between his fingers dissipate in the cold air. “He keep you plenty warm now.”

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect,” Rogue couldn’t keep the low growl out of her voice, and Remy blinked at her reaction.

“You need some time to let the wolf dissipate, eh?” he asked gently.

Rogue rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the knots of tension in her neck. “Yeah. I really do.” She looked up at him, and gave him a small smile. “Let’s keep moving. I wanna take the world’s longest bath when we get back to the mansion.”

Remy chuckled and moved closer as he held his hand out for her. “And Gambit wants you nice and warm, chére. Let’s go, eh?”

They headed outside to see that Logan had already mounted his snowmobile, offering them nothing more than a tense jerk of his head to tell them to get a move on with it already.

Though the sun had now been up for some time, the sky was so overcast that Rogue could no longer tell which direction they were headed. The roar of Logan’s snowmobile ahead of them filled her ears, and Rogue found herself leaning into the broad planes of Remy’s back, enjoying the small bit of warmth he provided. She let her attention drift as the time passed, trying not to think about Logan’s reaction back at the shelter, or about how much gas was left in the snowmobiles. She suppressed the fierce hunger she felt. Her stomach was growling noisily, her body craving sustenance from the energy it had expended healing itself. Eventually the white landscape darkened into gray, and she sniffed the air suddenly.

“Remy!” She shouted into his ear, trying to be heard above the whine of the engines. He slowed their pace enough for her to speak. “Southeast. I can smell food.”

Remy nodded once as he saw Logan turning as well, and he adjusted their course to follow.

“Oh, god,” Rogue moaned as she sorted through the various smells of cooking food. “I’m starving.”

Remy practically purred in response. “We get you plenty to eat soon, chére.”

Rogue’s heart sank as she noted that Logan was already slowing his snowmobile as they approached the outskirts of the village, obviously intent on not barging into town. Leave it to Logan to want to be subtle now. The smells of civilization were intoxicating, and though Rogue still felt the desire of the wolf to turn away from such noises and smells, her own instincts for food and warmth prevailed. She’d noticed the biting edge of the cold increasing, and while it had been getting steadily darker, she knew that Logan’s healing was beginning to wear off. It had been more than twenty-four hours since they’d been abandoned, and the effects of the elements were beginning to wear on her.

From this distance the village appeared to be nothing more than a few buildings, most of them with sheet metal roofs, it would be enough for them to find food and heat, and maybe, a phone.
Just beyond the backside of one of the buildings on the outskirts, Logan killed the engine. Remy followed suit. They were all quiet as Rogue wearily climbed off the back of the snowmobile, stretching her stiff muscles.

“We’ll stash ‘em here,” Logan grumbled.

Before either of them had a chance to reply, he’d dismounted his ride and trudged forward through the snow, following the stale scents of cigarette smoke, sweat, and beer. He threw open the battered wooden door and the sounds of music and Russian voices met her ears.

“Figures.” Rogue said as they followed behind Logan.

“What figures, chere?” Remy asked curiously as he walked beside her.

She sighed, too tired to sugarcoat anything. “It figures that the first building Logan finds in Siberia is a fuckin’ bar.”

The glass was already mostly empty. The acrid scent of the double vodka was still burning in his nose, but the alcohol wasn’t doing shit. Logan frowned deeply as he drained the last of the liquor and sloppily set down the glass with a bang. Shit, don’t break the fuckin’ glass. Don’t need the attention.

“Another.” He growled at the bartender. The man was fat, bald, and had a slightly greasy sheen to his skin that made Logan want to grimace. Why the hell was the guy so greasy? It was well below fucking freezing outside. The guy looked back at him blankly, clearly not understanding him. Logan grunted and motioned to his glass. A look of dawning comprehension lit up the man’s face and he poured another double into the chipped tumbler.

He noted the swirl of discordant conversations around him. The mutters and grunts of foreign tongues. Mostly Russian. Some Chinese. The place was fucking desperate. Not so different from some of the little towns he’d see in Alberta. A fishing town, trying to survive. The bar was crowded and cramped, and as another glass appeared before him, he tossed the drink back in one smooth motion, no longer minding the harsh burn of cheap vodka. Another, and maybe it’d work. He needed the dulling effects of the liquor more than the taste, and quick. He’d barely been able to regain his control on the beast since he’d taken over back in the woods. He hadn’t been able to help the instinctual, guttural response to seeing Rogue in an animalistic, feral state. He’d felt the Wolverine light up and growl in approval at the sight and scent of her body as she’d come stalking toward him. Fuck, he’d wanted her like that. All wild and out of control and -

Goddamnit. Knock it off!

The animal snarled at him again and Logan licked the last few drops from the glass before motioning again to the greasy man, who scowled at him, but complied and poured another double. He was just considering asking for the bottle when he caught a whiff of her as the door opened up and a snap of frigid air hit the place. Her smell. Like gardens and fucking sunshine. And the Cajun too. Logan growled lowly, tossing back the third drink just as he heard her slide up to the bar next to him.

He inhaled deeply as she neared him and clenched his jaw at that snarl of awareness that ripped through the animal. They needed to get the fuck outta Siberia before he did something he’d regret.

“You doin’ okay, sugar?”

“Fine.” he practically growled at her, unwilling to bring his gaze upward.
“Alright,” she said slowly as she eased up next to him at the bar.

He could tell she was just tryin’ to check on him. See if he was okay after what had happened back by that frozen creek. But he didn’t want her anywhere near him. Even after several hours of riding through the blistering cold, trying to drown out the taste of her against his tongue, the animal was still too fucking close to the surface. He needed her to get the hell away from him.

“You enjoy your cuddle time with the Cajun?” he spat at her. He couldn’t keep the acerbic bite out of his voice. The animal was pissed. He wouldn’t shut up about how good Rogue smelled, how sweet she had tasted on their tongue. Couldn’t stop questioning Logan about just why the fuck he was still holding back after all this time. She’s too young. She’s ours to protect. Not to screw.

We could protect her a hell of a lot better if she was next to us in bed.

A bolt of lust shot through him at the thought of a naked Marie plastered against him, her body warm and sweaty from a fast bout of sex, and he bit back another growl as he shoved the thought down and brought the glass up to his lips again.

“Yeah. I did.” She had some fire back in her tone now, and Logan could tell she didn’t like him pulling at that sore thread between them. “They got any food in this place? I’m starving.”

“Fuck if I know.” He set the empty glass down on the counter and slid it back and forth from palm to palm, the worn tumbler sliding easily on the chipped and polished wooden bar top.

“Jesus, Logan. Lighten up. We didn’t freeze to death. I didn’t get mauled by wolves - well,” she paused taking in her shredded and bloodied uniform, “Maybe a little.”

Logan blatantly ignored her, moving to stand to once more command the bartender’s attention. “Hey. Hey! You got a phone in here, bub?” The bartender gave him yet another blank look and he clenched his jaw in annoyance. “You speak English?”

“Keitai motteru?” he muttered, attempting some Japanese, to another confused stare. Logan sighed, pulling out the very little, very rusty bit of Russian from the recesses of his brain.

"Ehh...May I do one calling?" he asked the bartender in halting Russian, who had gone back to washing glasses but turned around once more, obviously highly annoyed.

"Man, you're already drunk, sorry," the surly man muttered, taking Logan’s empty glass away from him much to Logan’s frustration. Logan visibly pointed to the man, than to himself, and then to the space between them.

"You. To me. Phone."

It was obvious the bartender knew Logan wasn’t from around here, and he sneered a bit, before muttering,“The foreigner, his mother..."

“Motherfucker,” Logan growled, gripping the edges of the bar now in anger. “How the fuck are we supposed to get out of this shitty little town if I can’t even borrow a goddamn phone?”

Rogue leaned over the bar and smiled warmly at the bartender as she drawled out a sultry “Hi there, sugar.” Logan scowled as he noted the man looked a little too goddamn interested for his peace of mind, his gaze blatantly roving over her curves that were showcased all too well by the leather. She calmly mimed picking up a phone and holding to her ear, and to Logan’s complete and utter annoyance, the bartender calmly pulled out a faded yellow rotary dial phone.

“You fuckin’ kidding me with this thing?” He growled at the bartender who gave him another dirty look as he slid a fresh set of glasses toward Rogue. “You know how long it’s gonna take me to make this goddamn call on this ancient piece of shit phone?” The man cocked an eyebrow at him as he set a full bottle of top shelf vodka next to Rogue’s pair of tumblers.


“Don’t be such an ass, Logan.” And with that, she grabbed the empty glasses and bottle and strode over to where the Cajun had secured a pair of chairs at the far end of the bar.

Scowling as he noted just how fucking close the swamp rat sat to Rogue, Logan dug around his memory to summon up the international emergency number that phoned the mansion, nearly ripping off the dialer with each agonizingly long spin of the sticky finger holes. The phone rang several times, and right as he was about to give up, Scott-Mother-Fucking-Summers answered the phone.

“What the fuck, Cyke?” Logan barked into the receiver.

“Wha-? Logan?”

“Yes. Logan. Get us the fuck outta here.”

“Jesus. Who else made it out with you?”

“Rogue and Gambit. Now get your skinny ass back on the bird and pick us up.”
“Tell me your location.”

“How the fuck should I know where we are?!” Logan growled, shooting a glance across the bar to a guest. “Hey! Hey bub. Where the fuck are we?” The man only sneered at him, and Logan snarled in return.

“Hell if I know, Cyke. Can’t you figure this shit out?”

“Hold on. I’ve got Kitty with me. We’re tracing the number….”

“Take your goddamn time why don’t ya,” Logan muttered, throwing another glance over to the pair across the bar. In the few minutes since she’d left, she’d managed to acquire a bowl of pretzels and was tossing several back, inhaling the badly needed calories greedily as her body worked to replenish what it had lost. He gripped the phone cord hard in his left hand as he saw her smile at something the Cajun had just whispered in her ear, and he turned his back to them.

“Huh,” Scott said after several minutes of silence. “Looks like you’re in the tiny fishing village of Yuryung-Khaya. Hell, Logan. That’s like a hundred miles away from the facility. How the hell did you make it that far?”

“Too long a fuckin’ story,” Logan grumbled. He wasn’t about to relive the last twenty-four hours. Not when he was still dealing with the consequences of everything that had happened.

“Well, we can have the Blackbird there in forty-eight hours,” Scott said evenly.

“What? Forty-eight FUCKIN’ HOURS? What the fuck are we supposed to do until then?”

“Jesus. I don’t know Logan. Get drunk. Enjoy your goddamn vacation. You need to wait there. We just got back to the mansion, and we’re debriefing, trying to get our heads wrapped around the news.”

Scott’s voice was laced with tension and it put Logan on edge. “What news, Cyke?”

“You got enough money for food and a place to stay, right?”

“What fuckin’ news?” he asked again.

“We’ll debrief you when you get here. It’s concerning the weapon Kitty found,” he said evenly.

“Shit,” Logan said.

“Forty-eight hours.”

Logan found himself staring at the phone in disbelief. Scott had just hung up on him. He slammed the ancient handset back into its cradle and shoved it away from him, the mechanical bell ringing slightly with the force of his push.

Nothing about this sounded good. Whatever Scott was sitting on was just more bad news on top of an already shitty situation. He glanced back to where Rogue and Remy sat and frowned, resigned to standing. There weren’t any spare seats left and as much as the Wolverine approved of starting a fight, Logan knew they didn’t need any additional attention caused by him forcibly removing some drunk asshole from his chair. ‘Sides, the two of them had been by themselves too fuckin’ long anyway. He slowly stalked over to the other side of the bar, and though Rogue’s back was turned, he could see Remy’s eery red eyes follow him the whole way over.

“Listen, Rogue-” Logan began, purposefully avoiding addressing the swamp rat.

“-We know,” she grumbled, turning quickly in her chair to look up at him. Those brown goddamn eyes of hers staring daggers at him.

“How the fuck? How do you know?”

She was frowning, and only cocked an eyebrow at him. He must’ve looked at her with a confused expression, because she pointed to her ears then waggled her fingers at him. Of fucking course. Her skin. She still had the remnants of the earlier absorption. She would’ve overheard every word from his brief phone call with Scott.

Logan spotted Remy watching them, an expression of deep amusement plastered on his arrogant face, and Logan heard himself snarl in frustration.

“You forget so easily about this morning, homme?” he asked, a small smirk on his face.

“Shut yer mouth, Cajun. Didn’t ask ya,” Logan muttered, and Marie turned to angrily stare at him once more.

“You interrupted us, sugar,” she practically purred as she inched closer to Remy.

“Well, excuse me darlin’, but we needta figure out what the fuck we’re gonna do here for forty-eight hours. Cause I gotta tell ya, I don’t like the sound of it. Like fucking sitting ducks here.” He couldn’t help but glance around the bar again, took a sniff of the air to detect any familiar scents. But all he got was vodka, sweat, grease, fish, the charged scent of the Cajun, and the underlying freshness of Marie.

“Quit being so goddamn paranoid and learn to relax a little sugar,” Rogue said through another deep swallow of vodka, and Logan once more frowned. A handful of fuckin’ pretzels in two days and now two or three rounds of liquor. Remnants of his healin’ factor or not, she was gonna be in a world of hurt if she kept up that pace.

“Oui, homme. Listen to mon chere and relax a little.”

“Seems like you two are doin’ enough relaxin’ for all of us.”

“Seems like we doin’ just that,” Gambit smirked, and Logan watched as he deftly snaked an arm around Rogue’s shoulder. For a moment, just for a moment, it seemed to surprise Rogue, but she covered it up instantly, painting a smug smile on her face.

“If you wanna be so serious about everything sugar, why don’t you find us a place to stay?”

Logan only growled in response, shooting Gambit another threatening look, before storming off back to his spot at the bar.

“Hey, bub,” he gestured at the now belligerent bartender. “Uh, I have three room numbers for us,” he stuttered. Russian never had come easily to him. He had no idea if he was asking for three rooms, or three eggs. “Also, the fuckin’ bottle,” he barked.
____________

As all three of them drunkenly plodded upstairs an hour later, Logan could almost feel himself swaying on the spot as he stared once more at the keys in his hand. Two keys. Two keys. Meaning….two rooms. Only two goddamn fuckin’ rooms.

He swung the keys in Rogue’s face a little, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “Looks like yer with me kid,” he slurred, gesturing toward the room on the right. Rogue’s eyebrows shot up in offended surprise, as she looked back to Remy.

“What makes you think, for one minute on God’s green earth, that I’m gonna be shackin’ up with you, sugar?” she said, throwing Remy a side glance and a smile.

Something in Logan almost snapped. The vodka, mixed with his earlier frustration, caused the animal to rise even closer to the fucking surface. And he just wasn't fuckin’ having it tonight.

“If they find us, and trust me darlin’, they will, who do you think’s gonna be the one to take a fuckin’ bullet for ya and live to see tomorrow?” he practically spat. At this, Remy, even as drunk as he was, began to take the bait, and the air around them all suddenly singed with energy.

“You wanna fuckin’ take me, gumbo?” Logan snarled, beginning to back him against the hallway, before Rogue brought one gloved hand to Logan’s forearm and shoved him away from Remy.

“For the last goddamn time, both of you, stop it!” she practically shouted, forcibly bringing Logan’s arm down.

“You need to stop makin’ my decisions for me and let me handle this goddamn thing on my own,” she exclaimed through gritted teeth. “Come on, Remy.” and she grabbed one key from Logan’s outstretched hand before he could stop her.

Before he could get a handle on the situation, he felt the animal rise up and growl at her complete denial of the situation. His chest began to rise and fall rapidly as the pace of his breath increased. He tried to control the sheer rage of the beast coursing through him. How could she choose him?

He snarled, his hold on the Wolverine breaking as he stalked forward, shoving Remy back against the narrow hallway, roughly forcing himself in between the two before he could realize the full extent of his actions.

“Logan!” he heard Rogue shout, before Remy’s eyes darkened into a blaze of red fire. He noted the crackling spark of energy snap between his fingertips as he gripped a card in his hand, having procured it smoothly from the inner lining of his coat pocket.

Rogue stepped closer to Logan, only centimeters away from him now as she held his gaze. “Please,” she said simply. “Stop.” And this time, she didn’t have to touch him for him to understand, for him to realize what he was risking. What he was assuming. What he was asking of her. Something in him gave way then, as the look in her eye commanded him to calm down, to lower his guard. And accept her decision.

“Fine,” he growled once more, turning abruptly away from them both in that moment, the other key in hand. He stalked to the door on the right, wrenching it open. He took one last glance at them both, before slamming it behind him.

Logan stood with his back to the door, the room spinning slightly behind closed eyes. His jaw and fists were clenched, as he tried to prevent himself from ripping open the door, grabbing Rogue, and tossing her onto the bed in a fury of animalistic need.

What the fuck had just happened?

The smell of the Cajun’s charged card was still burning in his nostrils along with the spike in Rogue’s adrenaline as the two of them had nearly killed each other in the hallway.

Never had his senses been such a fuckin’ curse. He tried, with everything in him, to block out the sounds coming behind the two closed doors that separated them, but nothing seemed to be able to stop the onslaught. Muffled voices. Hushed whispers. He groaned, stumbling forward to the small twin bed in the cramped room, the mattress sagging under his weight.

Even now, the spinning was slowing and senses sharpening, as his healing factor viciously fought the copious amount of vodka he’d consumed. He couldn’t take much more of this shit.

Then. A sudden silence rang in his ears. It was deafening. The lack of sounds was somehow worse than the small noises that had been coming from the adjoining room. His imagination kicked into overdrive. There. A rustle of fabric against skin and the low murmuring of words.

“Motherfucker.” The word was barely intelligible, strangled by the thick growling that seemed to be coming from his chest as rought the sudden rage of the animal at the mental picture that surfaced in his mind.

If that’s the way she wants it, ain’t no way I’m gonna stick around to witness it.

He sprang up from the bed, the coils of the mattress creaking in protest at the sudden movement.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He thought as he sped out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Fuck the bartender. He needed more vodka. Now.

Why was all of this bothering him so fucking much? Rogue was grown. Her own woman. She’d dated others before. So what the fuck was up with him? Why the shitty goddamn attitude?

Don’t be an idiot. You know. Was the immediate response from the back of his mind. She’s ours. And we’re tired of her not really bein’ ours.

The fuck she is. If that was the case, doncha think she’d be here right now? Instead she’s in there. With the fuckin’ swamp rat.

Instead of the smartass response he expected, all he received was a scoffing noise.

Logan didn’t have time for this shit. He pounded down the stairs and headed straight for the bar.

One look was all it took. He leaned his weight against the thick oak bar top, slapped some cash down, not knowing or caring about the actual amount, and without question, filched a bottle. A grunt of acceptance, as he gripped in tightly, stalking over to the far end of the bar, back to the wall, inclined to drink himself into oblivion. He’d stay there all night if he had to. Whatever it took to get rid of the memory of those fucking noises.

The air was thick with the scent of tobacco now, and for a while Logan did nothing but drink. His mind was finally quiet, and he sank into the silence. No one dared bother him, the crowd was dwindling anyway, something Logan found himself grateful of.

He had been staring down at the peeling label of now only half-full vodka bottle, and when Logan looked up, he saw him. For an instant, he thought he had to be hallucinating, but... no. He could smell him from here, the swamp rat having just stalked down the stairs, drunkenly making his way over to the other end of the bar. Logan’s muscles tensed, the possibility of such an appearance almost too much to fathom. Why the fuck was he down here? He finished already?

Logan tried to cast out his hearing upward, toward her room. Nothing though. No noise to speak of. Not a fuckin’ shred of evidence as to what had happened, other than the bastard’s presence in the bar. The animal gave a low rumble of approval at the sight of him. That meant he wasn’t upstairs with her. As far as he was concerned, that was a good thing. But Logan knew what he’d heard. He couldn’t fuckin’ unhear it.

He frowned, glancing back at LeBeau once more. The Cajun’s movements were stilted and slow as he stumbled over to the bar, loudly demanding vodka. A couple of bruisers around him, fellas not as tall and certainly not as lean, noticed. He had a fucking fist on the table now. And then, one of the guys was tapping Remy’s shoulder, saying something loud and rude in Russian, and then, fuck.

He had to hand it to the Cajun. He was quick with a punch. The man stumbled backward, and his buddy was already on LeBeau, knocking him backward with a swift punch to the nose. The swamp rat shouted and Logan swore under his breath.

People were already crowding around the three, and Logan sneered as he pushed a couple aside. They were wailing on him, but then Remy was fumbling in his pockets, where he kept his cards…

One quick motion and Logan was on his feet, reached around to the bar stool, and threw it across the room at the fight. He didn’t care who he hit as long as it kept Remy from revealing his fucking abilities. He was already suspicious as fuck with those red glowing eyes.

The brawl exploded then, the barstool having splintered when it collided with flesh and a part of the oak bar. Logan didn’t waste any time but strode through the crowd, shoving anyone who was stupid enough to try and slow him down aside.

Finally, he grabbed a hold of the fuckin’ swamp rat’s wrist, jerking him forward outta the center of the fight, and hauled his drunk ass outside into the cold. The hostility of the crowd lessened as they saw Logan taking the troublemaker out of the mix, and the noise of the bar resumed its normal buzz as the door slammed behind him.

Nothing like subzero temperatures to sober you up, he thought as he tossed Remy head first into a snowbank.

“The fuck is your problem, Cajun?” he growled in a low voice. “You want every Russian in a hundred mile radius to know there are a buncha mutants hiding out in their pissant town?”

Remy scoffed as he dragged himself out of the bank, wiping a smear of snow mixed with blood from his face, before spitting at his feet.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est pour toi, chien?”

Logan knew enough French to know when he was being insulted. He reached down to grab the swamp rat’s collar and hauled him up so that he was eye-level with Logan. The movement forced an assault of scent to reach his nostrils. He could smell the tang of of Remy, the sourness of alcohol, the gas from the snowmobiles, the underlying acrid scent of the wolf pack they’d encountered. And Rogue. Goddammit. Her scent was all over him. His gut twisted as he inhaled deeply. Fuck it all.

“Listen to me you little shit. It’s fuckin’ freezing out here and yer about to get our asses kicked outta the place we’re supposed t’be stayin’. So you better have a fuckin’ good reason to go startin’ a fuckin’ brawl like that, you slimy rat.”

Blood continued to pour from his nose as he sneered at Logan. He was still impossibly close to him, but Logan refused to stand down.

“And Remy’s supposed to be listenin’ to the likes of you now, eh, homme?” he breathed bitterly. The man’s eyes were on fire, and Logan could feel himself struggling to keep hold of the animal.

And then, the scent again. Or, rather, the lack of.

See? Ours.

The realization slammed through him, and the relief must have shown on his face because Remy snickered at him and jerked himself loose from Logan’s grip.

“That’s right, homme. You win. Ma chere, non. She don’ want Remy. And Remy done bein’ rejected.” He shoved Logan away from him and turned his back. “Don’ act so surprised, homme. Anyone could see it. An’ you, wit’ ‘dem senses. Must’ve guessed by now.”

Logan didn’t know what to say. While logically he understood what the swamp rat was alluding to, he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Rogue had turned him down. Meaning, she didn’t want Remy. That last shred of doubt surfaced in his mind as he flashed back to after she’d absorbed LeBeau outside the facility. He’d smelled the arousal on her. Fuckin’ hated that he could. Fuckin’ hated that it was Remy that had caused her reaction. Maybe that’s why he’d hated it so goddamn much. ‘Cause it wasn’t him that was causing her to react that way.

It had been a fuckin’ joke, paradin’ around, claiming he wanted to simply protect the woman.

“Well. Fuck,” he said simply.

After a slightly awkward silence, Remy had motioned with his head to the closed door of the bar.

“Think they let us back in?”

Logan frowned. “For as much money as I dumped at the bar, they’d fuckin’ better.” And he strode forward to throw open the door. The atmosphere that met them was anything but hospitable. A few glares. A rumbling of angry Russian voices. And the tilt of the bartender’s head upward, obviously communicating he wanted both of them back in the rooms they had paid for. Logan couldn’t help but issue a low growl at being told what to do, but he silently followed LeBeau past the lingering patrons to the back of the bar, and then finally up the stairs once more.

Realizing they still had a decision to make about who would be in what rooms, Logan could feel the tension rising once again. Would he really be the one who got to share a room with Rogue? His thoughts went into overdrive at the thought. But then he noticed Remy had stopped, standing just outside the first of the two rooms, the last of the fight seemingly drained from him. His shoulders began to shake slightly, and for one horrifying second, Logan thought he was crying. But instead, he slowly turned to Logan, with a huge grin on his face as he gestured to a note that was crammed into the crack of Rogue’s door.

First one of you that comes inside this room is the first one dead.

“Well, Cajun. Looks like she’s taken the decision out of our hands.”

Logan took the key from his pocket and stepped past LeBeau to unlock his room. As he swung open the door to reveal the small twin bed, he grimaced.

“Look. Seein’ as you had a rough night, why don’t you take the bed. I’ll do just fine on the floor.”

Remy raised an eyebrow at Logan, seemingly suspicious of the gesture. “You sure, homme? That floor don’ look too clean.”

Logan shrugged. “Ain’t anything it can give me that I can’t heal from.”

The two settled into an uneasy silence, though it wasn’t long before Remy’s breathing evened and slowed. The past two days had been hard on all of them. He hadn’t slept last night, and now exhaustion mixed with the vodka was dulling his senses. Still though, he willed himself to pause, and to listen. Just there, the sound of her breathing, and the steady thud of her heartbeat in the next room. She was asleep. Close enough to hear. Safe.

__

The whine of the familiar engines had Logan jerking awake. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep, and the distant noise of the Blackbird had him instantly alert, springing to his feet from the hard wooden floor.

“The fuck?” he muttered, his voice deep and rough from sleep. He tiredly began to wonder what Scott was doing here a day and a half early.

Who cares. Gets us the fuck outta here.

Logan raised one eyebrow as he agreed with Wolverine and moved over to the bed to shake LeBeau awake.

“C’mon, Cajun. Grab yer shit. Our ride is here.”

He slammed his fist against Rogue’s door a few moments later, well aware that he was risking her early morning, pre-caffeine wrath. “Rise and shine, kid. Time to go.”

He heard her rough groan from beyond the door and the sound of a muffled, “Fuck,” as she threw back the sheets. Shoving aside the mental picture of a warm and sleepy-eyed Marie, he growled as he let out a, “Hurry the fuck up. Don’t want the whole goddamn village seein’ the bird.”

They all three stumbled out of the bar in the early dawn light, and through the grit-covered window Logan could make out the outline of the Blackbird on edge of town, having landed in the snowy field beyond. Rogue turned to look at Logan, before sighing, stomping resolutely forward toward the jet.

Minutes later, Scott looked them up and down, taking in their stolen coats, rumpled appearances, blood-stained and torn uniforms, and signs of exhaustion from Remy and Rogue.

“Jesus. What the hell happened to you three?”

Logan had no patience left. “Fuck off, Cyke, and get us the fuck off this continent.”

Rogue walked down the metal gangway of the jet toward the rear mansion entrance. Exhaustion was screaming out from every muscle in her body. The past three days had been almost more than she could handle. The failed mission. The bullet in her arm. The cold. The vodka. So much vodka. The two idiots she’d been stuck with who’d been in a two-day long pissing contest over her. The wolf. Logan healing her. She shuddered again as she remembered the base and primal instincts of the wolf as they’d taken over her consciousness for a short time. Logan had saved her. Again.

Fuck. How was she ever going to make things even with him? Prove to him that she didn’t need constant rescue? Show him that she was more than capable of taking care of things herself? Sure, the femoral artery in her leg had been punctured and she’d been close to bleeding out, but she was sure she would have managed something before he’d come along.

But he had come along. Taken care of what needed doing, and brought her back to herself and given her the gift of his mutation so that she would keep living. Keep going. Keep being Rogue. He was a man of strong principles. An unbreakable adamantium fucking backbone that would never allow him to break a promise. Even one that he’d made to a seventeen-year old girl.

She’d felt everything in those few brief moments of contact. His crushing desire to keep her safe. The lingering thoughts from Wolverine about wanting more and Logan’s never-failing response of, No. Whatever his instincts were telling him, the man was shouting them down, refusing to submit to what he believed was best for her.

It was crippling. That desire to keep her safe above all costs, while sacrificing his feelings because of it. Because he thought he wasn’t safe for her. Wasn’t good for her. She almost snorted out loud at this. He really was an idiot.

But still. He was a stubborn idiot. And she couldn’t see a way for her to make him understand. He wouldn’t be hurting her. Goddammit. He would be giving her something she never thought she’d have. How could he not see that? All this time, and yet...nothing. Nothing.

No one had said much on the flight back. Instead, an awkward silence between Scott and the rest of them had settled its oppressive weight on Rogue right after they’d taken off, and the rest of the flight had passed in exhaustive sort of silence. She found herself jerking awake as Scott touched down, having finally succumbed to exhaustion after several hours.

“Clean up. Debriefing room in five minutes.�

Scott’s tone didn’t allow any room for argument, and she sighed as she felt fatigue setting in in a way it hadn’t on the long ride back home. It wasn’t just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one. And she tried to suppress her feelings of frustration as she quietly made her way to the women’s locker room on her own. She avoided looking at either of the men she had spent the last three days with. It was too much right now, all of it.

The locker room, thank god, was empty, and slowly and precisely she shed the torn remnants of her uniform that had become caked in dried blood. Her blood. The wolf. She took a quick sniff to see if she could detect any other scents, wondering if her borrowed senses were still in play. No. Nothing. She frowned as she tossed the uniform in the garbage. It was unsalvageable. She flicked the faucet on to hot, and, silently, she let the scalding hot water pour over her body, steam rising up off her as she exhaled.

She tried not to think about how her body had recoiled when Remy had moved closer to her, both of them drunk on too much vodka. She tried not to think about his hand on the small of her back, how she had let him put it there. How he had leaned in, pressing his lips against her own. How she had torn away, intuitively knowing in that one instant that it was wrong. That she had been wrong, only out to make Logan jealous, to make him pay for being such an ass. For being so god damn stubborn. For not seeing her, who she was, how she was now.

A sudden surge of anger had her twisting the faucet off and throwing back the curtain. She was tired of it. All of it. She grabbed the closest clean towel and began to dry off. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She wasn’t someone that needed protecting. She was strong and powerful, in her own way. She would’ve figured out a way to get herself out of the shitstorm of the facility and the cold.

And the wolf?

It was a question from a voice she didn’t want to have to answer.

It was then she heard a sudden shift, and she knew Kitty was at the door. Quickly, she returned back from the innermost place her thoughts had led her, and smiled brightly as she looked up to the one person she needed to know was truly safe throughout all of this.

Uncaring of the wet towel between them, Rogue threw her arms around Kitty and squeezed tight as she let out a sigh of relief.

“Missed me, huh?� Kitty smiled into Rogue’s damp hair.

“Hell, Kitty. I’m so damn glad to see you,� Rogue said as she released Kitty from her embrace. “You have no idea.�

Kitty smirked at her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “What? The three of you didn’t have fun on your little camping trip?�

Rogue rolled her eyes at this. “Sure. Fun. Yeah. Stuck between two jackasses who were fighting over who has the biggest dick. Lots of fun.�

Kitty laughed as she sat down on one of the benches. Rogue moved to her locker to change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She didn’t care if it wasn't protocol. After three days in the fucking frozen tundra of Siberia, she wanted to be comfortable.

“So tell me,� Rogue said as she zipped up her boots and threaded her fingers through her damp hair. “How did you get back to the jet? What happened after you and Remy were separated in the explosion?�

Kitty smirked at her again. “You know I can walk through walls, right?�

Rogue laughed. “Of course. But what happened on the jet? Why did you guys leave us behind?�

Kitty shook her head. “Rogue, this weapon. It’s the real deal. We need to go to the debrief so that you understand.�

There was so much unsaid in Kitty’s words and it had a pit of uneasiness growing in Rogue’s stomach. She let out a sigh and nodded. “Alright. But I’m so glad you’re okay,� she said as she reached over to squeeze Kitty’s shoulder.

Together they left the locker room and headed up toward the space that Scott had designated as the official debriefing room. Rogue sat herself in the middle of the large wooden table, and waited for the rest of the team to join them.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She wasn’t even sure how to feel, exactly. One by one, she watched the rest of the team entered, and her overwhelming feeling of dread grew. Scott finally entered with a brief nod of his head in her direction, before she felt Logan’s presence descend upon them. He was moody, gruff, as he stalked into the room, eyes on the floor and back to the wall closest to the door. He made no move to join them at the table, and Rogue wasn’t sure if she was relieved or perturbed by his decision.

Still, Rogue frowned as Scott moved to start the briefing. She glanced around at the other team members to make sure she hadn’t missed him. But no. Remy was decidedly absent.

“Let’s get started,� Scott said as he began to pull together some notes that had been spread out on the table.

“Hold up,� Rogue interrupted. “Are we not waiting for Remy?�

Scott cleared his throat uncomfortably as she heard a small growl issue from Logan’s direction. “Remy decided to go back to Baton Rouge. He left the mansion a few minutes ago.�

Rogue felt the slight twinge of guilt as she took in Scott’s words. Remy had left. Because of her. Not that she regretted turning him down, but still. Maybe he could have found a place here, eventually. She hated to think she might’ve prevented him from having a home.

Scott was still awkwardly shuffling papers as he looked at her. Rogue didn’t know how to tell Scott, particularly with the entire team bearing witness, that she was fine with Remy not being here. But instead of her having to tell him to go ahead and get on with it, Logan spared her the humiliation and instead barked out, “Who cares if that swamp rat ain’t here. Get on with it, Cyke.�

Rogue shuddered at the unhampered sound of animosity in Logan’s voice. No lost love there, that was for sure.

“Wolverine, Rogue,� Scott began, “It’s time to catch you up on what the rest of the team has already been made aware of.�

“Bet ya had plenty of time to talk if over on the jet after you left us in fuckin’ Siberia.�

Rogue’s eyes shifted over to where Logan stood. He was barely holding on to his temper. He hadn’t forgiven Scott and the others for abandoning them at the facility. Far from it. Rogue couldn’t blame him either. She wasn’t feeling overly appreciative of Scott’s actions, even if they had been necessary to maintain the integrity of the core team. What Scott had done went against everything that Logan stood for. He would sacrifice himself a million times over if that’s what it took to keep everyone safe. And that, Rogue thought, was the core difference between the two men.

“Well,� Scott answered, a fair bit of heat in his own voice as he glared back at Logan, “it was either that or we all would have ended up dead. And we have too much to do for me to let that happen.�

The muscles in Logan’s jaw were tight, the bands of muscles in his forearms twitching. Rogue knew he was struggling to reign in his temper, and while most of the time a good old fashioned brawl between Logan and Scott was prime entertainment, they had more serious matters to discuss at present.

“It emits sound waves,� Scott was saying, from somewhere far off. Rogue couldn’t focus. She couldn’t make herself listen, even as the team was huddled together, in the cramped space of the debriefing room. Logan had begun pacing in front of the entryway, tension visible in every taut line of muscle. As irritated as she was with him, Rogue couldn’t keep her eyes off him, found herself drawn to his every movement. Shit. Pay attention, she berated herself as she heard Scott saying something about dangerous frequencies.

“That can kill people?� Rogue found herself asking, forcing herself to focus on the briefing.

“No. At least, not yet. But they can affect mutants. Not kill them, precisely, but render their powers useless for hours, maybe days. It’s only a matter of time until it could potentially wipe out human and mutantkind alike.� Rogue could hear the gentle tones of the professor’s voice as he made his way into the room, always at the right moment, always like clockwork.

Rogue could feel Logan’s eyes dart quickly to her, and there was nothing she could do but sit still. What did he want from her? What more could she possibly do or say to shake him awake? Had something changed, or had nothing? He was his typical self, brooding and self-loathing, and yet all she could recall was the feeling of him pressed up against her on that awful, old mattress, telling her to breathe, showing her how to fall asleep. She knew what she wanted. But what did he want?

She could feel her frustration mounting, the more Scott kept talking. Now this news, the knowledge that it was most likely too little, too late. She was selfish for even being entangled in this fucking love triangle, when it was likely that they might all be in imminent danger. For all they had suffered in fucking Siberia, it wasn’t enough. It would take months to gather more intel, to even understand what they were up against. And what they were up against was already too much. There was no way-

“We’re gone however many fucking days, and that’s all you can tell us?� Logan barked, finally pausing from his frantic pacing. Rogue couldn’t help but glance up in his direction, and for the first time since the meeting began, he made eye contact with her. His eyes were fiery, fierce, and Rogue instinctively wanted to half-shudder, half-retaliate with her own snarl. His anger was overwhelming, but also infectious. She was just as frustrated as Logan, but only one of them was acting like an adult. Meanwhile, Scott scowled in Logan’s general direction, before clearing his throat.

“It’s complicated,� Scott finally muttered, his patience wearing thin. No one spoke as he looked around the room once more, and Rogue realized that, as leader, it was his job to say what everyone already knew.

“Whatever it is,� Scott finally added. “It’s biological warfare.�

At this, Rogue actually shuddered. And then, without any notice, Logan had left, out the door as silently as he had entered it. Rogue’s eyes followed him until they couldn’t make out his tall, retreating form any longer. What a fucking mess, she thought.

After the depressing briefing was over, Rogue returned to her room, exasperated. It was funny how so many things had stayed the same, when so many other things had changed. Her book was still propped open on her desk from where she had been reading it before they’d been called out for the mission. The Wood Brothers poster still tacked up on the wall. The lingering sense of peace, when nothing about these past few days had been peaceful. It all felt wrong.

She picked up her book and tried to pick up where she’d left off as she flopped down on the bed. But she found herself re-reading the same sentence over and over again, not taking in any of the words. She threw it off the edge of the bed, letting out a frustrated sigh. Maybe she was just too fucking exhausted and needed some sleep. No vodka. No bullets. No stinking mattresses. Just her own bed and the quiet calm of her room.

She kicked off her boots and closed her eyes, determined to try and rest. Determined to put the past few days behind her. But when she closed her eyes, no matter how much she tried to focus on her breathing, all she could see was the endless white snow. The yellow eyes of the wolf and its matted foul-smelling fur. Remy’s red eyes as he moved closer. The sound of Logan’s growling as he stalked her. The feeling of his lips, his teeth against her neck as she’d felt a hot and quick dart of arousal spreading through her as she found herself submitting. The desire to press against him, open herself to him, use her own teeth against his skin. Taste him, feel him shuddering against her with his own need.

Rogue bolted upright, feeling her heart pound with the remembered intensity of those instincts. There was no way in hell she was going to be able to rest now. Her body was thrumming with unspent energy, with the echoes of adrenaline and lust. And she needed an outlet. Now.

She quickly changed out of her jeans and tshirt into her standard Danger Room gear; black skin-tight workout pants, dark green sports bra, and black workout tank. She decided to forgo her usual combat boots and instead opted for her cross-trainers. She could see programming in some running into her sessions to burn off her nervous energy. She pulled her hair back into a tight braid and twisted it up so it was secure against her head. No loose ponytails for her. Nothing for an enemy to grab hold of.

Rogue headed down the staff hallway and down to the lower levels of the mansion, her blood humming beneath her skin in anticipation of a good fight. But then, noises from the danger room, the doors already sealed shut, meaning it was already in use. She huffed in annoyance as she typed in the code to access the control center, only to see what she already anticipated happening in front of her.

He was there, and he had the settings turned up to Utter Insanity.

An instant feeling of rage coupled with fear surged through her body. She didn’t want him here, and she wanted to tear apart some sentinels, fighting with him back to back. She wanted to run away, and wanted to join him, all at the same time.

She watched momentarily from the control room, stock still and frozen with indecision as he moved animalistically, viciously tearing apart threat after threat. What took her breath away, what really made her pause, was how thoughtless it was. No hesitation. No pause in his actions before he took them. He was his body, and his body was primal, fluid.

Her fingers twitched over the emergency shutdown button while her feet were automatically turning toward the door. She didn’t know what she wanted to do. She was caught between what she wanted and what was safe. And the two didn’t mix. Not for her. Never for her.

She hung her head slightly as she felt the pull of safety winning out over desire and her fingers curled back into a fist as she turned away from the control center. The sudden deafening sound of metal against glass had her jumping and instantly crouching down into a fighting stance, heart racing, eyes wide and alert. She whipped around to face the safety glass that overlooked the Danger Room and saw that severed head of a sentinel tumbling back down to the floor where Logan stood. He was glaring at her. Chest heaving. Claws out. Eyes dark. She couldn’t hear him, but saw the words he mouthed at her nonetheless.

“Get yer ass in here.�

The idea of him ordering her to do anything instantly caused her spine to draw up straight and she glared right back at him. She flipped him the finger as she turned her back to him and headed back to her room. She wasn’t going to fight him. Not when he was in that kind of a mood.

She was moving fast, faster than a brisk pace. But it still wasn’t fast enough. Logan came tearing out of the entrance to the lower level of the Danger Room, just as she had started to slip past it. He’d sheathed his claws and reached out to grab her shoulder.

“Where the hell do you think yer going?� he growled, pressing her back against the door just tight enough for her pulse to quicken.

“Let go, Logan,� she said as she tried unsuccessfully to throw off his grip. She never had been good at breaking close grips. And right now she was in no mood to put up with any more of his surly standoffish self. She took in the grim set of his jaw, the tension coiled beneath a black tshirt, black tactical pants and combat boots. He was almost shaking with anger. And Rogue found herself matching his level of frustration. He wasn’t the only one who had shit to work through.

“What. You afraid I’ll win?�

“Ha,� she let out a short bitter laugh. “We both know that I’m the stronger of the two of us and could kick your ass any day of the week.�

He only stepped closer to her. “Then fuckin’ prove it.�

At this, Rogue raised her lip in a snarl as a new, gritty spark of determination flooded her body. Maybe if he saw what she was capable of, he’d finally stop treating her like a scrawny scared teenager.

“Fine,� she murmured, before she finally shoved him off, striding intently to the Danger Room door again. She could feel his smirk smouldering behind her, which made her anger flare even hotter. Nothing about this, nothing at all, was child’s play.

“So where did all the smoldering rubble and mutant-thirsty sentinels go?� she asked curtly, looking around the now-empty Danger Room.

“Though ya needed to start out easy, kid. You’ve been through a lot the past few days.�

Rogue felt all of her rage and frustration boiling up and for just a moment she wished she’d touched Scott recently so she could blast the hell out of him and that smug-ass look he was sporting clear across the fucking room.

“You put the Danger Room on ‘Toddler’?� She managed to get out through her gritted teeth.

Logan shrugged and stood back at her, arms crossed across his chest. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em,� he finally muttered.

“God. I’m gonna kick your ass, Logan.�

“Don’t get cocky, kid. That’ll be your first and last mistake.�

Rogue forced herself to swallow her temper. While his attitude wasn’t helping her get over all of the frustration that had been bottling up over the past days, no, years, she sure as shit wasn’t going to let him beat her with the Danger Room set to a kiddie-playtime level.

She stopped half-way, turning on her heel in the middle of the empty room and facing him once more. For a moment, she simply smirked, arching a brow before swiftly and effectively changing the settings.

“Switch settings back to Utter Insanity,� she said cooly.

“Override,� Logan immediately growled.

The cool calm voice of the computer came over the loudspeaker, “Override request denied.�

“Goddammit. Override! Authorization code echo-alpha-tango six seven nine.�

“Override request denied.�

“What’s the matter, Logan. You scared?� Rogue knew she was treading on thin ice, but couldn’t help but goad him just as he’d done her. It was time he learned that she could dish it out as well as take it.

Meanwhile, the room was quickly changing, the ground beneath them scorched, the sounds of bullet shells falling to the ground. Everything was suddenly on fire, and Rogue’s grin only widened.

As shrapnel began reigning down, she watched him flinch. And then, the roar of a flatbed being ripped apart, and just as the back half of the vehicle flew in their direction, she felt him up against her, pushing out of the way of the falling debris. As he tackled her to the ground, she only growled, easily wrapping her legs around him and pinning him to the ground.

“The point’s not to save me, Logan,� she muttered. “So quit trying to.�

He shoved her back hard and she twisted around so that she landed on her hands and knees instead of her back. She was on her feet again in an instant, years of training coming easily to her aid.

“You got it, kid.�

She felt herself smiling in anticipation of what was to come. Logan had underestimated her for too long. And after years of training and several rounds of contact with other mutants, she was more than ready to face him in a fight even as the world fell apart around them.

He was already coming at her, but she knew what to do. He was telegraphing his moves, intentional or otherwise, he was being too easy on her. Giving her an opening that she didn’t want. Or need. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment and focused all of her energy on calling forth Magneto. Even though it had been more than ten years, her long-fought battle for control had taught her how to channel and focus her previous absorptions at will. Logan had nearly reached her when she raised one hand and forced all of that lovely metal beneath his skin to hum in response to her command. She only had a brief moment to laugh as his stunned expression before she tossed him clear across the room, sailing clear past the oncoming sentinel hoard.

She heard him land, and she felt satisfaction and worry all at once. He was up almost instantly, and was snarling as he began to stalk back over to her, barely holding on to the animal.

“Yer not playin’ fair, Rogue,� he growled out at her from across the room.

“Who said anything about fair, Wolverine?� she threw back at him. “You wanted to fight. So let’s fight.�

“I can’t fight you, kid. Not for real,� he muttered, and something in his eyes darkened.

“Stop treatin’ me like a kid. I can take whatever you can dish out.� She could feel recklessness coursing through her as she reached out once more to focus Magneto’s power to toss a wrecked sedan at his head. He snarled as he reached up to shred the metal apart like butter with his claws, the car splitting easily into two pieces on either side of him. She knew she was deliberately pissing him off now, but she couldn’t help it. Ten years of him handling her with kid gloves, treating her like a fragile tender flower. She’d had enough.

“What do you want, Rogue?� he growled, lunging closer to her. He stopped just in front of her, without touching her. And she felt herself starting to sway closer to him.

“I-� she stopped, breathing heavy as she stared back at him, mere inches from hazel eyes. His chest was heaving with effort and she could feel the warmth of his muscles, watched a bead of sweat roll off his temple and disappear against the dark fabric of his shirt. She couldn’t stand it any longer. He was too close, and the memory of his lips against her throat was too fresh. She gripped the front of his shirt with both hands and pulled him close, raising herself up to kiss him. He froze against her as she pressed her lips against his, tasting the sweat of his exertion and she shuddered against him.

His fists were clenched at his side and she felt the sting of rejection coming from him as she broke the kiss.

She stepped back and wiped her lips, closing her eyes against the hurt that threatened to drown her.

“I-I’m sorry,� she said as she turned away. “I thought-� she broke off then. Determined to prevent him from seeing any more of her hurt. “Nevermind.�

Logan hadn’t moved. His breathing was coming fast and hard, and she could see the fluttering pulse at his neck. Jesus, how embarrassing. She blinked back the sting of tears as she took a step toward the exit, thoroughly and completely ashamed of what she’d just done. Maybe she’d read him wrong. Maybe she’d misinterpreted everything he’d ever done for her. Maybe every single one of his actions had been geared toward protecting her and keeping her safe. Without the intent of furthering their relationship past the point of friendship.

Instantly a hard searing pain drove through her as she realized what she’d been hoping for. What she’d wanted for so many years. It was gone in an instant. Leaving behind the hollow empty pain of shattered thoughts.

And then, to her complete and utter shock, the sound of a harsh guttural growl, and a strong and firm grip on her left arm, pulling her backward. She gasped, before she was up against him, and he was kissing her savagely. Disbelief was flooding her body. God, he was kissing her. Logan. Kissing. Her. And suddenly she responded back with the frustration of ten years of wanting. Needing. And going without. She pressed herself close to him, unaware and uncaring of the world around them crashing to their feet. Warmth and acceptance swiftly replaced the hollowness of despair as she kissed him back. Hard. Harder than was good for her. But she couldn’t help it. She needed him. Longing was flooding her body and she found her hips rocking against his, need driving her past all common sense.

“Logan,� she breathed.

“What?� he snarled, before kissing her roughly again.

Just then though, he snarled, instinctively moving her to his left, protecting her from a large, robotic fist decimating the ground where she’d just been.

Rogue looked up at him then, the warm buzz of his kiss lingering on her lips. She’d had no idea of the danger they’d been in. And still. Without a thought for his own safety. He’d protected her. Again.

“C’mon,� he growled. “Let’s get outta here.�

“End program,� she muttered as she grabbed his hand and followed him toward the exit, the world around them instantly going dark and quiet.