It had been almost two years since he left. Being told he had to ‘find’ himself may have been a lame line to let a girl off easy; but coming from him, to her, they were the truest words ever spoken. She understood the importance his past held for him, and knew that without the keys to that past the door to his future would remain locked tight.
People at the school first thought it only natural for her to have a sort-of hero worship for the grumpy man-beast. He had saved her life, after all. And even without that, he had a larger than life presence. It would not have been surprising to find that many members of the female population were taken with the gruff, alpha-type male. They thought it sweet, if not completely out of character from what little they knew of him, that he gave her a small token to remember him by when he left. Everyone expected the crush to fade as the woman-child settled into her new life among fellow students and mutants.
What no one seemed to realize was that, just as he had left a tangible reminder of himself in the form of the tarnished old dog tags; she also held in her mind another, completely different, kind of keepsake. Memories, thoughts, a portion of whatever it is that makes us human. She held this indefinable part of him in her mind, in her heart, maybe even in her very soul.
A fluke of human evolution allowed her to take ethereal portions of being from anyone she came into skin to skin contact with. This happened on two occasions with the brusque man from Canada. Either situation could have ended her young life; but a quirk in the way their individual ‘gifts’ synched allowed his ability to heal from any injury to be shared with her.
This was how a curt, arrogant, seemingly self centered Canadian came to have an unexplainable connection with a soft spoken, Southern Belle.
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“It’s been two years, Marie, I don’t think it’s healthy for anyone to be so distant from her peers.”
Jean Summers, resident MD for Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, was starting once again on a tiring and unbearable conversation. Her intentions were always heartfelt and above-board, but the unsolicited advice was beginning to wear thin on the nerves of the young woman to which they were aimed.
“I appreciate your concern, Jean, I really do. But we’ve had this discussion a hundred times. I have friends, I’m just not an overt ‘people person’. I have my small, tight knit group and I enjoy them. I don’t see a need to try on a gregarious personality that’s not my own. I have several personalities I could choose from if I wanted to change, but I don’t want to. Please, I’m asking once again, could you drop this?”
The fiery haired doctor sighed audibly, smiled at the one she had come to think of as the younger sister she never had, nodded her assent and left the bedroom of the young woman she was so concerned about.
Marie smiled to herself, knowing that Jean only meant well, but not wanting to make her own life any harder on herself. Even though she had learned control over her skin with the help of the school’s founder, Charles Xavier, there was still the possibility of accidents if her concentration wasn’t finely focused.
Her small group of friends were well aware of the consequences of coming into contact with her skin. They were a tight, protective, group, and in her time at the school she had become comfortable enough with them that her focus was never an issue. Larger crowds and people that were not aware of her power made her very nervous and so she countered by wearing long sleeves, long pants and gloves; for everyone’s safety.
Speaking of her ‘crew’, it was Tuesday night and they had plans. She turned her attention to preparing for the upcoming night out.
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Two years, almost two full years he had been canvassing the Canadian countryside searching for something, anything that could give him the smallest clue to who he once was. All he’d been able to find in that time was five abandoned military bases, each looking like it had been in it’s prime sometime between the two World Wars. The only thing he was able to find in and amongst the empty hallways was overturned furniture and layer upon layer of dirt and dust.
As much as he wanted the secrets to his past, the seemingly never ending trail of empty rooms and echoing halls was beginning to wear on him. Coupled with the face of a certain southern beauty that he couldn’t get out of his head; the time alone in the wilderness was fast becoming something he wanted to put an end to, answers or no.
But two years was a very long time. She must have gotten over her hero worship crush by now, surely. Besides, what could a brash, egotistical, Canuck possibly have in common with a sweet, innocent, nineteen year old girl??
Girl? Not likely, not anymore. If the scared, rag-a-muffin he left behind held any evidence of the beauty that would bloom from those big brown eyes, ‘girl’ is the last word that would be used to describe her. And as far as innocent? In several connotations of the word, yes. Marie was still innocent in so many ways, her skin being the most persuasive argument for the most base of definitions. But after absorbing him twice and having that bastard Magneto put his hands on her; many other types of innocence had been forcibly taken from her.
That she still lived and breathed was the only consolation he could take solace in when he thought of the horrors that had to accompany his healing ability.
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“What’ll it be, Mac?”
“Th’ name’s not Mac. I’ll have whatever ya got that passes for red meat ‘round here; rare, with all the side fixins and a large coffee, black. An’ keep the cup filled!”
“Right, hold the mac, stab a steer with everything and a bottomless cup a’ high test joe. Anythin’ else?”
“Yeah, ya got a phone booth ‘round here?”
“Sure do, down the same hall as the restrooms.”
“Gimme some change then, and holler when that steer’s ready.”
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“Good afternoon, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, this is Kitty Pryde speaking, how may I help you?”
~Kitty Pryde? Who the hell is that?~ “Uh, I’d like to talk to Mar- uh – Rogue.”
“Certainly, if you’ll hold for a moment please…”
~When the heck did Wheels get so high-falutin’ that he’s gotta have a damn secretary??~
“I’m sorry sir, Rogue doesn’t seem to be answering her in-room phone, would you like me to connect you to her voice mail? Or I could forward you directly to her cell phone?”
“Uh, yeah, the voice mail thing sounds like a good idea, I’ll take that……uh, please.”
“Alright sir, if you’ll hold for just a momen-..”
“HEY! There, kid—Kit—Kitty, you said Rogue had an ‘in-room’ phone, can you give me the number directly to it so I don’t have ta go buggin’ you whenever I call?” ~Yeah, right, like I’m her damn mother, checkin’ in once a week, sure bub!~
“Of course sir, that number is 2-0-1-5-5-5-1-2-9-2, I’ll connect you to her voice mail now…”
“HI! You’ve reached Rogue, if you’re getting this then I’m probably not in, or I might be, maybe I’m just screening my calls in case you’re somebody I don’t wanna talk to – [giggle]. If it’s Monday I’m probably shopping at the mall with the girls, Tuesday is arcade night, Wednesday I’m usually in but probably studying for that darn Thursday-not-so-much-of-a-surprise-anymore-pop-quiz Mr. Summers always gives. So leave your message at the beep and I’ll get back to you when I get back in. Oh, and if this is Hudson, I still love you.” *BEEP*
Logan stood in shock. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Almost two years had gone by and she still had feelings for him. There was no mistaking the ‘Hudson’ reference. Even when he had no idea where the Professor’s leads may take him, he’d told Marie of a stretch of land he owned up on the West shore of the Hudson Bay. He’d go there when “civilization” got too much for him, he’d told her. It was quiet and still, had only the fresh clean scent of the wilderness and he could actually, REALLY relax there.
He realized he was still standing there, holding a buzzing phone receiver. He didn’t even hear the connection go dead and the annoying ‘your phone is off the hook’ buzz begin. He carefully, almost reverently, placed the receiver back on the hook and made his way back to his seat.
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It had been many days since his attempt at phoning Marie. How many, he didn’t know. The entire time he just kept asking himself the same questions, over and over again. What did this mean? Did she truly have feelings for him? If she did, were they any different than the crush from two years ago? Could they be any different than the crush? If they were different, how different were they? These questions and more kept rolling around in his head. An annoyingly incessant circle that had no end and no answers.
The time had passed and he drove on with absent attention to what direction or how long he had been driving. Without realizing it, he found himself at the border crossing into the United States. The realization of where he was only really hit him just as the Border Patrolman approached his truck.
He never really put any faith in the god, or gods of humans. Neither did he have any belief in such things as fate or karma, but something took hold of him and he found himself crossing the border back into the country that held the Southern beauty he could not exorcise from his mind.
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The days and possibly weeks had passed by him with barely any evidence. But each one passed with the questions in his mind only getting more loud and insistent. He could only imagine this was but a taste of what telepaths must go through, being able to hear the thoughts and mental ramblings of those within their telepathic range. He knew, as the racket and ramblings grew in his own head, there was only one way to silence the din.
“HI! You’ve reached Rogue, if you’re getting this then I’m probably not in, or I might be, maybe I’m just screening my calls in case you’re somebody I don’t wanna talk to – [giggle]. It’s getting close to the weekend, whoo-hoo! So, if it’s Thursday, I’m probably recovering from my turn at dinner time clean up. It’s anybody’s guess what I’m doing if it’s Friday night. But I’m sure I’m not home! This Saturday me and the girls are taking a little trek up into the New England states to check out the fall colors, so leave me a message and I’ll get back with ya on Sunday. And, Hudson? I still love you.” *BEEP*
Not knowing what else to do or say, but also not being able to hang up again without doing anything, he simply recited the phone number to the motel room he had been holed up in since crossing the border.
The next few days, he quickly decided, were worse than any he could recall from his spotty memory. More questions came to mind, questions with a much grittier edge to them. What's she doing right now? Has she picked up the message? Has she heard it but decided she was wrong about her feelings? Was it just some game she’d decided to play with him on the out-of-this-world chance that he ever did call?
It took barely twenty-four hours for him to realize what he’d put Marie through, if she really held these feelings for him, these last two years.
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Sunday rolled around, not soon enough, he mused to himself. He didn’t know how, but he’d apparently stocked the room with food and such, making the necessity to leave uncalled-for. And he found a strange and completely unfamiliar sensation creeping into him as the day wore on. At first he simply could not identify it. But as morning seeped into afternoon, and the hour hand on the clock above the tired and worn dresser dragged itself around the circumference once again, it slowly dawned on him…..he was scared.
At first, he huffed out a grunt of cynicism, to no one in particular. The Wolverine? Scared? It was ridiculous! But one more trip around the twelve tiny numbers over the dresser, and Logan was ready to admit, he was scared. He’d quickly come to realize, since his waking this very morning, HE had feelings for this tiny slip of a gir- uh, woman. Very deep and very foreign feelings. But not so foreign that he wasn’t willing to investigate them.
Now, all he had to do was wait and see if the auburn haired woman in Westchester wanted to investigate her feelings as well.
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The ringing of the phone caused Logan to practically launch himself out of the chair that he’d apparently drifted off to sleep in. More out of reflex than conscious thought, he grabbed the receiver. Before he could speak, his higher brain function kicked in and he immediately realized who was on the other end of the line.
At first he only heard dead silence, then his superior senses kicked in and he could make out the thin, ragged breath of a person who, like him, was apparently scared witless over what would happen in the next few seconds.
“Hey, this’s Logan, I might not have been around much lately, but I’ve been thinkin’ I might like ta head back to a place I think I could call home. So if you happen ta be a knock-out, auburn haired, Southern belle with a sassy attitude and big mouth……”
He paused for a fraction of a second to hear a rapid intake of air combined with a muffled giggle…then he continued quietly…
“…tell me ya love me again, darlin’, ‘cause I’m right here for real and can’t wait ta hear it…..”
The heavy sigh of a held breath released, followed by a soft, happy sounding, sob; was all the response he needed to hear.
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Blake Shelton Austin
She left without leavin' a number
Said she needed to clear her mind
He figured she'd gone back to Austin
'cause she talked about it all the time
It was almost a year before she called him up
Three rings and an answering machine is what she got
‘If you're callin' 'bout the car I sold it
If this is Tuesday night I’m bowling
If you've got somethin' to sell, you're wastin' your time, I’m not buyin'
If it's anybody else, wait for the tone,
You know what to do
And P.S. if this is Austin, I still love you’
The telephone fell to the counter
She heard, but she couldn't believe
What kind of man would hang on that long
What kind of love that must be
She waited three days, and then she tried again
She didn't know what she'd say,
But she heard three rings and then
‘If it's Friday night I’m at the ballgame
And first thing Saturday, if it don't rain
I'm headed out to the lake
And I’ll be gone, all weekend long
But I’ll call you back when I get home
On Sunday afternoon
And P.S. if this is Austin, I still love you ‘
Well, this time she left her number
But not another word
Then she waited by the phone on Sunday evenin'
And this is what he heard
“If you're callin' 'bout my heart, it's still yours
I should've listened to it a little more
Then it wouldn't have taken me so long to know where I belong
And by the way, boy, this is no machine you're talkin' to
Can't you tell, this is Austin, and I still love you”
I still love you
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
This song never fails to give me goose bumps, even on the most hot and humid of summer days. In the right (or wrong) mood, it can even make me cry; whether that’s for good or bad I don’t know.
I’ve taken a few liberties with ages and time spans, just to get the story and song to fit better.
I’ve taken a few liberties with ages and time spans, just to get the story and song to fit better.