It was quite some time before I saw Logan again after our little kitchen talk. I frankly thought he was going crazy. He was avoiding me like the plague and I had no idea why.
John and Kitty actually warned me that he was asking lots of questions. Like where I'd be at a certain time of day, what was I doing? It was a little scary but I figured he had his reasons. He would have been a stalker if not for the fact that he was staying away from me instead of stalking. Which left me wondering: what did I do wrong?
Now, I was upset that he had waited so long to actually talk to me. Then, when he did talk to me, he disappeared again. He didn't want to see me and that was really painful because, despite all the time that'd passed, I still considered Logan a friend. Much more than a friend, actually.
One day, I actually skipped class so I could look for him. And I did find him, in the dining hall, eating. When he saw me, he stopped eating, stopped chewing for chrissake, and got up and left. He didn't even acknowledge me. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to hit him, making him look at me, tell me why I was so awful he couldn't bring himself to actually see me anymore. Instead, I just sat at his table and stared at his half eaten food. I leaned my head against the cool, hard wood and tried very hard to keep myself from crying. It was a while before I got up.
I'd like to think that, when I make my mind up about something, there's no stopping me. One morning I woke up convinced that I had to find out just what was going on, what was making him behave that way. I decided then and there, that I would confront Logan about his strange behavior.
Tracking him down was hard. It was like he could smell me coming. Maybe he could. When I finally did run into him, it was not because I was looking for him. In fact, it was purely coincidental. I'm sure it came as an equal surprise to the both of us.
I'm not really an exercise freak but just about the only thing I can do in that arena is run. I can't play basketball with the rest of the kids; team sports are out. So I figure, I have to do something.
The morning I saw Logan again, I was running down a path that leads from the mansion into a rather secluded wooded area. As I made my way down into the woods, I saw him. He was not running. I'm still not quite sure what he was doing.
He was wearing shorts and sneakers and that was it. No socks, no shirt. I was already out of breath from running, I can't tell you what the site of him did to my heart.
It looked like he was meditating, but I really don't think so. He was just sort of sitting there up against a tree, eyes closed, looking very tense. His brow was furrowed and his body was set for action. But, he was just sitting there. Sweat poured down his face and chest so he had to have been doing something strenuous before I showed up.
I knew he could sense me; he could probably hear me, I was breathing so hard. Still, he didn't look up. His eyes remained closed and it looked like he was really concentrating on something.
"Logan," I called out. He didn't move.
I can be stubborn sometimes and I wasn't going to let him ignore me anymore. Moving closer, I called out his name again. No response.
The next thing I did wasn't very dignified, I know, but it was all I could think of at the moment. Well, that's not true. It's what I most felt like doing; I was so angry with him. So, I kicked off one of my shoes and threw it at him. It hit him square in the chest and, yes that certainly got his attention.
I don't think I've seen any non-teleporting mutant move quite as fast as Wolverine did when my shoe landed on him. He sprang up, claws unsheathed, teeth clenched, looking very much like the cage fighter I'd met in Canada. If I hadn't still been so pissed, I might have been afraid.
He saw me, through all his fury, and we both knew there was no reason for him to have his claws out like that. But it still took him quite a few moments to pop them back in. It was like his anger was expressed in the release of his claws, and when he was still mad he wasn't ready to put them away.
When he looked away from me and began eyeing his spot by the tree, I thought he would just go and sit down, ignore me again. Instead, he went and leaned against it and asked, "What'd you do that for?" His voice was gruff but his features had softened slightly.
"I was trying to get your attention." What could I say? You'd been ignoring me all week, you jackass. The least I could do was throw something at you.
He simply raised that insufferable eyebrow and, at that moment, I felt like reaching over and pulling it off his face.
"Logan." I stepped closer to him and I could see his body tense again. If that tree hadn't been at his back, I swear, he would have taken a step backwards. "What did I do, Logan?" It slipped it but, since it was what I'd been meaning to ask anyway, I wasn't too sorry.
He blinked and looked at me like I'd grown another head, or something. "Nothing," he replied, but he didn't sound too sure.
"Then why the hell have you been ignoring me?" I couldn't help myself. And he sounded so darned surprised that the word "hell" had come out of my mouth, I almost wanted to laugh. But, I was still angry and frustrated and I didn't care if he looked like my daddy ready to wash my mouth out with soap. Which he didn't. Look like my daddy, that is. In fact, when he got over his initial shock, Logan looked a little pleased that I'd suddenly become confrontational.
"Don't whine, Marie. It doesn't suit you," he drawled out.
"It doesn't suit me, huh? And what would you know about what suits me, Logan? You've been gone an awful long time. You might have no idea who I really am anymore." That wasn't true. And the look he gave me told me he knew it wasn't either. He still knew me. Somewhere, deep inside, I knew Logan knew me better than anyone else. Just like I knew him. Or thought I knew him. It's easy to be wrong.
He moved towards me now, sauntering over like the Wolverine sizing up his opponents. Out of nowhere, his hand came up and grabbed the tags I was wearing around my neck. "Thought you weren't putting these on anymore?"
"I wasn't," I countered quickly. "I put them on in case I saw you again. So I could give them back." His hand fell away and I instantly drew mine up so I could pull the tags over my head.
He grabbed my arm as I began pulling on the chain. "Don't," he growled. "Keep 'em. It's. They're not that important to me. So. You have them."
"Liar," I whispered, and removed the chain anyway. "Here." I extended it out to him. "Take them. I know what they mean to you, Logan. Don't say they don't mean anything to you." Because, then, your having given them to me will mean absolutely nothing.
He took the tags I dangled before him and studied them briefly before sliding them over his head. "All right," he said, tersely.
"Are you going to tell me why I'm such a horrible person you had to keep away from me?" I didn't mean it the way it came out. And the look he gave me. Well, I didn't want him feeling sorry for me.
"Rogue--"
"What?"
"Listen, kid, why don't you run back now? I have some things to take care of. I'll catch you back at the school. All right?"
He wasn't going to get rid of me that easily. Not again. "I think whatever it is that you want to do can wait until you explain why you've been behaving the way you have."
"And which way is that?" He started turning away from me and I almost reached out to pull him back, until I remembered I wasn't wearing my gloves.
"Like this Logan. I thought we were friends."
"Goddammit, Rogue! Just get out of here!" I could almost see him trembling with fury. What had I done to inspire so much anger?
"No. Just talk to me. Please?" And, yeah, I was pleading. I was almost begging for him to tell me, tell me what I could do to fix whatever I'd broken.
And then, he did it. He turned back to me and in a split second pulled me up to him by the collar of my shirt. I was right up against him, my hands dangling helplessly at my sides. His face was a mixture of anger and pain and something else I couldn't really recognize but I think I knew. And the idiot kissed me. He put his lips right up against my own and opened my mouth to his and, for a split second, I felt his tongue move against mine.
He was out like a light.
I was left to run back to the mansion, babbling incoherently to whoever would listen, that Logan was hurt and, oh god, it was my fault.
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