Chapter 12
"No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched." - George Jean Nathan.
The sun had barely peaked above the horizon when Logan eased himself from Rogue’s bed and prepared himself for the day ahead. Despite everything Rogue had said and done the previous night, Logan had brought her to that bed to sleep, and get the rest she required. Leaving the room without disturbing her, Logan quietly tread down the empty corridors of the mansion, taking in the serenity that surrounded the building at this early hour. Morning sunlight filtered in through the tall glass windows of the corridor, streaming spotlights of golden dust, which pooled upon the polished wooden floor.
As he made his way towards the kitchen, he passed the open doorway of the ground floor recreation room. Within remained the mess he and Rogue left the night before, an untidiness that he hadn’t thought to be quite so bad then. But now, the suspiciously scattered cushions, the DVD box lopsided against the foot of the couch and the television remote lost amongst the accidentally strewn food packaging all screamed something he didn’t want to travel around the mansion. He himself could practically smell the pheromones reeking from that room and it was enough to make him too uncomfortable at such an early hour in the morning.
Giving the room one last glance, he slipped on by, deciding against going in and tidying up save someone like Scott walking in and immediately taking it the wrong way. Well, it was the right way, just wrongly! Passing the grand foyer, Logan continued his path towards the kitchen, planning on a spot of breakfast before he would see if Rogue was yet awake.
He had only gotten a couple of bites out of some toast (after an eventful experiment with the toaster settings) when Storm walked in, her name-sake etched all over her face. Another early riser of the mutant household, Logan wasn’t entirely surprised to see her enter. But when the words, “Have you seen the state of the recreation room?” left her lips, he unhelpfully gagged on a piece of burnt toast. Logan thankfully wasn’t required to respond as he sat there coughing and thumping his chest so firmly it’d possibly bruise a normal person. “There’s mess everywhere! Not to mention I don’t like the way that couch is disrupted. Some students have sneaked down there. I’ll have to mention this to Charles, we can’t have our students going down in the early hours and getting up to goodness knows what.” She said all this as she prepared herself some cereal, Logan finally swallowing his toast and blinking his watering eyes.
“C-Charles?” he managed to say afterwards, before he almost dropped his piece of toast in realisation that this reaching the powerful telepath spelt bad news. “No!” he said quickly, seeing Storm sharply look his way caused him to hastily add, “No, it’s just kids messin’ around, Ro.. you don’t need to bother him. Just start doin’ some earlier patrols or somethin’. Get a lock on the door.”
“Yes, well, I knew you wouldn’t be so quick to disapprove,” said Storm, seating herself at the breakfast bar and proceeding to eat her food.
Logan grunted to himself, quickly downing the remains of his orange juice. “Just drop it, Ro,” he retorted sharply, standing with an audible scrape of his stool. Storm cast him an affronted look. Logan should have known better than to think he could get away without a response, and his steps away from Storm were halted by noticeable rumble in the skies outside as Storm rose to her feet.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
There was a sigh as Logan raised a hand to run his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. “Look, don’t worry about last night.. there’s no kids sneakin’ round. It was me.”
Storm raised a slim eyebrow as she watched Logan. “On your own?” she said in a disbelieving tone.
Logan proceeded towards the kettle that had just finished boiling, pouring the hot water into the mug he had earlier prepared on the counter. “Rogue’s ill,” he eventually muttered.
“Don’t change the subject,” Storm then sighed, but spoke gently from the mention of Rogue.
Logan set down the kettle, not looking at Storm as he stirred milk into the brew. “I’m not,” he said pointedly. “She’s sick.”
Curious at this information, Storm turned towards him, a hand settling on her hip. “Have you told Beast? He should be able to – “
“It was Beast who told her,” Logan interrupted, still refusing to meet Storm’s gaze. There was silence between the pair for the next moment, the only sound being the repetitive clink of the spoon against the porcelain as Logan stirred in the milk excessively.
“Surely he’s doing something to help her.”
Logan pulled the spoon out of the mug of coffee, depositing it on the draining board before he picked up the mug. “There’s nothing that can be done, Ro. It’s terminal. She’s just tryin’ to enjoy the time she’s got left. We went down at night so she wouldn’t have to be asked questions by everyone, cos she ain’t been around much.”
Keeping his eyes on the mug he held, he did not see the relaxing features on Storm’s face as his shocking words hit her. “She’s dying?” she whispered. “Oh, but how long has this been going on?”
“A few months,” murmured Logan solemnly.
“Does Beast know what illness she has? I mean, how long does she have left?”
“He ain’t got a clue, that’s why he can’t cure it. Somethin’ to do with her mutation destroying cells.” Logan adjusted his footing uncomfortably. “I don’t think there’s much longer.”
Storm shook her head sadly, “Does the Professor know?”
“Of course he does,” Logan muttered. “Listen, ‘Ro, do the girl a favour, huh? She don’t want it spread around like gossip, we’ve all kept our promise, don’t go tellin’ everyone. She won’t mind you knowin’, but no one else – especially not the students.”
“I won’t, you have my word,” assured Storm, nodding her head gently. “But has Rogue been discussing what she wants to happen prior to her death? Regarding a funeral?”
Logan shook his head in answer. “No,” he sighed softly, “I don’t think she really wants to think about it to be honest, Storm.”
“No, you’re right, of course not..”
“I’d better take her this coffee before it goes cold,” Logan muttered, glad to have an excuse to leave because this conversation was making him uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to show his emotions in front of Storm. Storm nodded her head in understanding and Logan didn’t waste anymore time, swiftly departing from the kitchen and walking through the mansion’s corridors once more. The time had worn on, and now the mansion was slowly coming to life.
Logan had turned the corner only to see Scott Summers walking the other way, obviously having just left his room and was off to prepare his own breakfast. Logan hadn’t actually come into contact with the X-Men leader for quite a while since spending the majority of time with Rogue. Not that he complained, for it was common knowledge around the mansion that the meet of Logan and Scott usually prompted some sort of snide remark or an offhand comment.
“What’s this?” Scott chuckled, that alone causing Logan’s hackles to rise. “I didn’t think someone had the Wolverine running around with breakfast. Who’s taming you, Logan?”
“Shut the hell up,” Logan uttered under his breath, only just managing to keep a range of additional profanities in reign.
Scott never responded well to being told to shut up by anyone, especially not Logan. “Don’t tell me to shut up, Logan,” he replied coolly, his jaw set. “I see you’re heading towards Rogue’s room again. Lucky for her.” A growl rumbled from Logan before everything happened in quick succession. The hot mug of coffee he held somehow left his grip. Somehow, Logan’s arm swung forth and somehow the mug flew towards Scott.
There was a fierce snarl, a blast of red light followed by a pained exclamation. His instant reaction was to blast the oncoming object, but it had smashed too close to him and scalding hot coffee had rained down upon his face. He gasped as he hurriedly wiped it from his face before it could cause any lasting damage, his eyes luckily protected by his glasses. Scott looked up to seek out Logan, but the man was already upon him. Thick hands grasped Scott by the neck of his attire, easily catching him by surprise and hoisting him up against the wall.
“Don’t you dare even speak her name,” Logan growled in his face, his mind lost to the whirlwind of anger. Scott grabbed hold of Logan’s arms, a knee sharply driving up to meet Logan firmly in the gut. With a strangled sound, Logan staggered back; his unprotected abdomen arguably one of his weakest points. Scott was panting softly from the rush of rage and adrenaline, his hand at his temple, ready with his optic blasts should Logan attack again. Logan straightened slowly, his growls still noticeable. He made a rash move forward, but was abruptly thrown backwards by a blast of red laser. He hit the wall of the corridor with a grunt, gasping as he felt warm blood trickling from his upper chest where he had been struck.
The men glared at each other, sizing each other up warningly before they slowly parted from each other, each in such a state of anger it was unwise to remain close to one another. Soon, they had both departed from the scene, the remains of a mug littering the coffee stained carpet and the telltale dint in the wooden wall enough to spread the word that the two had locked horns once more.
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The sound of the closing door stirred Rogue from her sleep, who rolled round to see Logan stalking inside, his eyes blazing and blood staining his shirt. She started, sitting up and staring in horror, “Logan? What’s happened?”
Logan growled as he wrenched his shirt off his torso, throwing it aside and observing almost healed wound at his upper chest. “Cyclops got in my grill,” he said, tone harsh. He stomped towards Rogue’s en-suite, leaving the girl staring at his retreating form in alarm. She shuffled out of the bed carefully, treading out across the wooden floor as she followed him into the bathroom where he was washing the blood off his bare chest in the sink.
“There’s normally no blood when you two have a spat.”
“Yeah, well, he pissed me off,” grumbled Logan as he washed around his neck and face.
Remaining stood in the doorway, Rogue gently leaned up against the wooden frame, watching Logan as he stood with his back to her. She observed his face via the mirror. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, kid,” he muttered, glancing up to view his reflection, catching Rogue’s form in the vision over his shoulder. “I was bringing you a mug of coffee.. it’s now all over Cyclops’s face.”
Rogue gasped at this, a hand lifting to her lips, “Oh, Logan! You didn’t..”
“He pissed me off!” Logan repeated, “He was being funny about me comin’ to your room all the time.” He straightened from the sink, grabbing the nearby towel and wiping himself dry. “Sorry, Marie. I’m pretty highly strung, right now. I need to get outta the mansion.”
He saw Rogue’s face cloud over in disappointment. “You’re leavin’ me?”
“Nah, kid. Y’can come with me. I’m only goin’ for a short drive. I just need to keep my head low for a while, because I can bet you anythin’ that that pansy will be cryin’ his eyes out to the Professor.”
Rogue absently bridled herself against the doorframe in a coy manner, studying Logan with a mischievous little smirk, “Only if we can go back to your broodin’ spot.”
There was a grin on Logan’s face as he moved towards her, his large arms easily scooping her lithe torso up against his, chuckling at her little noise of surprise. “Maybe,” he murmured softly, leaning his head down to nuzzle against her cheek in an affectionate manner.
“It’s gotta be better than a ‘maybe’, sugar,” laughed Rogue as she rested against him, pleasantly surprised at his affection.
But after last night, Logan couldn’t help but feel this way towards her, not to mention the headful of pheromones he got from the recreation room this morning did nothing to quell his amorous advances. “Mhrm,” he sounded against her cheek as he gently inhaled her scent. “I could always promise?”
“That’s better,” said Rogue, pulling back with a tender smile. “You ought to go and grab yourself another shirt, unless you’re planning on travelling half-commando.” She reached up to boldly kiss him on his cheek, and was pleased when he tilted his head towards her affections with a slow rumble of pleasure. “Whilst I get dressed..” she added afterwards, lowering back from her tiptoes. “Meet you in the garage?”
“Sure thing, darlin’,” he muttered softly, allowing his arms to slip free, watching her move off back into her bedroom to get ready for their trip.
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