Aching at the remembered horrors of lives that were not her own Rogue huddled on her bed staring out the window. She frowned as she realized the nightly sounds she was used to hearing from the next room were absent.
Rising, pushing aside her own fear and horror she headed for Logan’s bedroom. Slipping past the door she stared at the empty bed and the open closet door. Logan’s belongings still hung in place so he hadn’t left instead it looked like he had merely taken his coat and went out.
Glad to be able to focus on something other than her own misery Rogue turned and headed for the garage unmindful of the fact that she was dressed in sweats and little else. Grabbing her familiar green cloak from the coat hook beside the kitchen door she slipped out into the garage and noticed the Harley was gone.
With a pained sigh she turned and headed back inside only to pause as a frown crossed her face. Her Inner-Logan was pushing at her to keep calm that he wasn’t about to run not now. Shaking her head she shrugged and slipped a pair of boots on before heading out into the cool evening air.
Tapping her fingers on her thigh she smiled silently and turned to stare at her battered truck that Logan had been teaching her to drive. If she hurried maybe she could find him, find out what had driven him from the mansion.
The red blinking light in the window drew Logan’s attention faster than the loud booming music and rowdy laughter of the bar. Moving toward the flashing beacon, Logan slipped inside and glanced around. A long curving counter lined one side of the small diner, in front of it sat a row of stools, most of which sat unused. The occasional one offered the trucker sitting on it a moment’s rest.
Tables lined with faded red leather booths sat before the windows allowing a view of the small town’s one street. The tables cracked and mended told of a long history within the place even as he moved to the back corner away from the door. Sinking into the supple leather he stared out the window at the darkness and prayed for a moment’s peace.
Like most nights his mind had refused to allow him peace of any sort and he’d been driven from his bed. Slipping through the darkened mansion he’d peaked in on Rogue before heading for the garage, for the bike and its escape.
“What’ll you have honey?” the strong accent had him shifting his gaze to the waitress’s reflection.
“Coffee, strong and black,” he growled even as the waitress smiled softly before setting a cup down in front of him.
“Figured that’s what you’d be wanting. You just passin’ through?”
“No,” Logan replied grumpily even as he turned away from the compassionate expression within her eyes. If only he was passing through, if only he could outrun his demons, his ghosts but he couldn’t. Now there was more than just him to consider, now he knew what it meant to leave your heart behind you and he wouldn’t, couldn’t do that to Rogue.
“You want anything else just let me know,” the waitress declared before moving off. Stepping behind the counter she glanced once more at the lone man sitting in her furthest booth. He seemed weighted down by something, his own guilt or perhaps his inner demons she didn’t know but she knew suffering when she saw it.
“Looks like hell,” her cook a grumpy old man grumped. “And he’s trouble.”
“Oh hush up,” with a patient look at the cook she grinned and shrugged, “I remember you sayin’ the same thing about someone else once and look where she is.”
“Being a troublemaker,” the man grumbled with a faint smile as he eyed the waitress. “All I’m sayin’ is don’t go being too mushy woman, you’re likely to get into serious trouble.”
“Where’s that steak I ordered?”
Grumbling under his breath he set the plate on the warmer and watched the younger woman take it out before turning back to his work.
The peel of headlights along one wall had Holly glancing up to see a battered old Ford truck rolling to a stop next to a bike. Smiling she grabbed a menu and the coffee pot even as the cab door opened and a cloaked figure slipped out into the night.
Watching in silence as the figure moved into the diner and paused she frowned slightly and glanced back at the cook even as she felt a tinge of fear. When the figure moved toward the back of the building she sighed in relief and followed slowly.
“This seat taken?” Rogue whispered softly even as she slid in next to Logan and stared out the window.
“No,” hiding the grin that split his face Logan shook his head. He worshiped this girl; of course he had to remember even at his worst moments that she had his tracking skills. “Not yet anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” Rogue whispered softly even as she leaned on him offering her strength.
“For what?”
“Whatever drove you out of bed,” she shrugged and toyed with her cup. “For not being enough to..”
“You are enough,” Logan whispered softly. “Its just I know I can’t give you what you need, what you should have.”
“You already do Logan. You give me everything,” Rogue replied with a soft smile even as she fell silent and just let the night flow past them. Long after the darkness had begun to fade they sat silently, gathering strength from the other even as the lights were dimmed and the waitress dropped a check on the table for them.
Rising, Logan pulled Rogue with him as they stepped out of the roadside diner. Walking with her to his bike he paused, “Same time, and same place tonight?”
Rogue nodded and stood up to kiss him on the cheek over his muttonchops, “I’ll be here. Although I’ll try to avoid doing it in my pajamas.”
Logan nodded and started for his bike only to pause at the soft sound of Rogue’s voice. Turning to her he lifted an eyebrow and met her gaze steadily.
“I love you Logan,” Rogue smiled softly, “Just thought you should know that.”
Logan smiled warmly at her, “Right back atcha darlin’, right back atcha.”
The sound of the truck’s gears grinding slightly echoed within Logan’s mind long after Rogue had pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. How like her to find him and show him that his demons weren’t real any longer. In her own way, Rogue had long since vanquished those old demons, now he just had to deal with the new ones.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Don’t own ‘em but sure am grateful to Stan Lee and Marvel for creatin’ them for us to play with.