Rogue half smiled as what Jean had told Logan those few years ago finally registered as actually being funny. "She picked up a few of your more charming personality traits." Doctor Jean Grey was always one you could rely on to remain in confidence.
Not that it was really much of a secret to anyone but Logan and the Professor. Rogue sighed and watched the man most often called Wolverine from her bedroom window. Having claws pop out of my fists everytime I lost my temper for a week wasn't excactly the most...subtle thing in the world.
The young mutant absently rubbed the fingers of one hand over the knuckles of her closed fist. The memory of sharp bone claws made her hands ache dully. Her touch had almost killed Logan twice. The first time had been to save her own life after he had accidentally speared her on his cold, shiny claws while he had screamed for someone to come help him save her. The second time, he had touched her.
Sometimes when it was late at night and nightmares, that had originally come from the hard, rough-spoken man out there in the rain, woke her up... Sometimes Rogue could still feel his lips pressed against her forehead, silently demanding that she take his power to heal for herself. It feels nice to know he cares about me so much. Makes me feel less alone.
The young mutant whose touch could drain any living thing to the point of death could have dropped into a depression that no one could have reached her through. But, the first time she got to that point, the man out there in the rain had wrapped his arms around her and had promised to protect her.
And the important part was that he had protected her. From Magneto, and from herself.
She smiled as she twisted his old dogtags around her gloved fingers. After all, Wolverine always keeps his promises. I ought to know after having him in my head for so long.
Wolverine stared down at his hands. Big, rough, meaty things that they were -- maybe "paws" would be a better discription. Part of what he had discovered in Canada still seemed to stick in his craw. It was just something he had trouble chewing up and spitting back out.
I'm an animal. For five fucking years I ran around like some Goddamned primitive in the woods. The Weapon X project fried my brain completely. Assholes. He growled at the thought and clenched his hands into fists, letting his claws snap in and out without bothering to control them. An animal, that's how most of them look at me here. They don't say it, but they smell like it. They smell like fear. Except for the Professor, but he can get into my head. Except for Storm, but why should a goddess fear a beast?
Jean and Cyclops. They don't fear me either, because they've got each other to watch out for. And Rogue... Marie. She's not afraid of me. With her powers she's been me.
That made him chuckle as his muscles started to relax under the relentless pounding of the rain. The almost icy water felt good against his bare shoulders and chest. It half reminded him of how cool Rogue's skin had been when he had held her closely on top of the Statue of Liberty. It would have been worth it if she had drained me completely. Then nothing would be able to hurt her for long. I never thought I'd get so...soft. Not over a kid like that. But she's not a kid anymore.
He chuckled again and tilted his head from one side to the other, making it crack and pop. The storm continued to rage and thunder around him, but he ignored it in favor of the thoughts that continued to race through his head.
Twenty-one. She's suddenly twenty-one and she ain't a kid. Red-Eye is pushing thirty and he's still a kid. Must be something about having me and Buckethead running around in her head. Those brown eyes of hers are too damned old to belong to a kid.
Logan dropped his eyes to the cold, shiny claws still sticking out of his hands even though they weren't clenched into fists anymore. A faint memory teased at the back of his scrambled mind. A memory where the claws were still there, still cold, but they hadn't been shiny. Then the memory was gone.
Logan snorted. There maybe a little more back where it's supposed to be, but it's still a mess in there. Bone claws. Right.
He turned back toward the mansion that served as a shelter and school for young mutants. A slow smile turned up his lips as he caught sight of the figure standing in an upstairs window. Even as just a shadow he could recognise his Marie, keeping an eye on him like a guardian angel.
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