I had been hiking in the snow for over an hour, still cursing the trucker that had tossed me out after I broke his nose when he got a little touchy feely. I swear, just cause a girl is in the need of a ride, it doesn’t mean she’s gonna spread her legs as payback. I still got a fairly good portion of the southern manners my momma taught me, but I also got some pride and self respect, even after a year on the road and a nasty run in with Carol. But, at least with her strength and healing, I had control of my skin, and I didn’t have to use it to defend myself, for which I was more than grateful, cause every time I had to touch someone, I ended up with a piece of them lodged in my head and sharing my mind, with others was kind of annoying.
Course, even with Carol’s strength and healing, cold was cold and my feet felt like ice blocks as I trudged along, shivering beneath my ragged coat, wondering how long I was from the next town. Ten miles? Twenty? More? And what would the town be, when and if I got there? I certainly hadn’t been impressed with that shit hole, Laughlin City, as I was pretty sure that whoever had called that a *city* had been doing some serious drinking at the time, cause a bar surrounded by run down buildings really doesn’t quite make a city, at least in my mind.
Well, at least there had been something nice to look at while I was there.
Wolverine.
Sighing, I recalled what he had looked like in that metal cage, beating the living shit out of the guy that had been foolish enough to challenge what the pudgy announcer had call The King Of The Cage.
Shrouded in smoke, his sculpted, hairy dusted chest bare, his hair wild, his eyes beyond intense, he had seemed somehow surreal, somehow larger than life, yet oddly real and compelling all at once. I felt oddly drawn to him, connected somehow…when he set at the bar, stealing looks at me while I was trying not to stare at him, I felt almost safe, like I had finally encountered someone that understood who and what I was and I liked that, cause it was the first time I had felt safe since leaving home.
I had been trying to think of a way to start a conversation with him, to see if he would give me a ride, when that jackass from the cage came out of nowhere.
And Wolverine flashed the claws.
And I knew then why I felt connected to him, why I felt as if he understood…it was because he did understand, he knew what it was to be different, to be a mutant, to be looked at like he was a freak and deemed unworthy by those that didn’t understand that mutants weren’t evil.
We were just different.
Or cursed.
Sometimes I wondered about that, wondered if I was indeed cursed, cause I sure as hell felt that way when King Of The Cage took off, leaving me there, staring after him, with no choice but to hitch a ride with the chubby trucker that turned out to be some grabby pervert.
Trying to shake it from my mind, telling myself none of it mattered, I stopped and turned with my thumb hopefully in the air as I heard a truck coming my way.
A truck topped with a camper that drove right past me.
Son of a blasted bitch.
I can’t believe it. What an ass. What kind of person leaves a girl in snow?
Blowing out a breath, I mentally conjured up a few more curses as the truck came to a sudden haunt about a hundred feet from me and after a brief, surprised moment, I ran towards him, the best I could with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder.
Finally, I reached the truck, pulled open the door, and stopped.
It was him.
Wolverine.
“Ya gonna get in, kid, or stand there?”
His gruff voice snapped me from my shock and I quickly climbed into the truck with a sigh, savoring the warmth that enveloped me.
“Thanks. Thanks for stopping.”
He grunted, threw the truck in drive, and we were on our way, shrouded in silence and the smoke that streamed from his cigar.
“Do you…would you have anything to eat?” Please. God. I’m starved.
He raised an eyebrow, but reached out and opened the glove box, to produce a pack of beef jerky.
“Thanks.”
Tossing him a smile, I tore into the pack, barely tasting the salty meat, I was so eager to have something in my stomach.
“I’m Rogue.” An introduction. That seemed good.
But I got nothing.
“Are you in the army? Doesn’t that mean you’re in the army?”
No reply, he just tucked the tags under his shirt.
Well, Rogue, two strikes. Want to go for three?
“Does it hurt?”
He finally looked at me, frowning. “What?’
I gestured to his hands. “When they come out, does it hurt?”
“Every time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
I shrugged. “For that. I mean, I…I understand.”
“I doubt that, kid.”
“I’m one. I’m a mutant.”
That got another raised eyebrow. “Really?”
“It’s my skin. Well, it started as my skin. It can hurt people. If I touch them, I can drain out their life and memories and energy, and with mutants, I get their powers.”
“Shit”
“Yeah. I can control it now. I couldn’t before. But after…”
“After?”
“I was attacked by a mutant named Carol and I…I had to kill her, and now I have her strength and healing and I figured out how to turn my skin on and off at will, but I still have a piece of her in my head.”
“Damn. Never heard of a mutation like that.”
“It’s not a great one.”
“I got the healing too.”
“Really? Along with the claws?” He seemed suddenly easy to talk to.
“Claws weren’t a part of my mutation. Those were given to me in a lab fifteen years or so back.”
“God. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
Shit. He had been through it. Even more than me.
“So, what kind of name is Rogue?”
“What kind of name is Wolverine?”
He half smiled. “Logan.”
“Marie.”
“Where are you headed, Marie?”
I shrugged at that. “Was headed to Alaska, but I kind of got stalled.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen. Twenty next month.”
He nodded, thinking. “Listen, I work at this place in New York, in Westchester, called The Xavier’s School For The Gifted and it’s for mutants.”
“For mutants?”
“It’s a school for mutants and the guy that runs it, Charles Xavier, he does a lot for the whole mutant rights causes and if you’re interest, I could take you there, let you rest and get your head together.”
“Why? I mean, why would you help me?”
“Seems like you need it. I know what it’s like to need help.”
I looked at him, knowing he meant it. “Are you going back there to stay?”
“For a while. I usually take off for a month or so about once a year.”
“Oh.”
“But I’ll be sticking around for a while, so you know, you’ll know someone there.”
I smiled, realizing I had been right to feel connected to him. “I would like that.”
“So Westchester it is?”
“Westchester sounds good to me.”
Our eyes locked them and we exchanged a half smile that seemed to say what neither of us had the words to say.
“You know, you really should wear your seat belt.”
He huffed and frowned. “Listen, I don’t take driving tips from a nineteen year old.”
“Yeah, well, you might reconsider that someday.”
A half laugh escaped him and I went back to the remainder of my beef jerky, feeling warm and safe and in the company of my first true friend ever.
The End…Maybe.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000