Logan remained seated on his motorcycle while his eyes took in the sight before him. What had once been a rowdy bar was now barely a ghost of its former self. The neon sign that had hung above the entrance proclaiming ‘Lion’s Den Bar & Grill’ was now noticeably absent, while all the windows were either smashed or boarded up. Combined with the building's structural damage, it now looked more like somewhere a snuff film would be shot than a place you would go for a drink.
A cold wind ruffled Logan’s dark hair as a maelstrom of snow flew around his body, prompting him to leave his bike and head for the relative protection of the decrepit bar. It wasn’t just the elements that carried his feet to the entrance; ever since leaving the school, he had been compelled to come here, to stand in the place where he and Rogue had first met. During his long trip from New York to Laughlin, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of her and his conflicting emotions regarding their tumultuous relationship. The past several weeks he had spent traveling had been strictly reserved for thinking about Jean and the things about her that had drew him to her and made him love her. Now that she was irrevocably gone, he found that he could be brutally honest with himself and admit that he never really knew Jean at all. She had reminded him of someone that he knew from long ago, from a past he couldn't remember, and though the feelings he had had for her had been very real, he saw now there was no sustenance to them. He had been so fixated on the past that he never even saw what was around him in the present; now that he had arrived at the place where it had all started, it was time to settle in for some serious thinking about the platinum and chestnut haired woman who claimed his every waking thought. He had hated to leave her while she was still unconscious, but Hank had assured him that she was going to be fine; trusting the blue doctor, he had fled as quickly as possible, not trusting himself to be around her while his head and heart were in such an uproar.
Reaching the door, he pulled it open, wincing at the rusty hinges that squealed loudly in protest before he stepped inside. The interior wasn’t much more aesthetically pleasing than outside, but then again, the bar hadn’t been made for ambiance. Aside from the distinct lack of people and the thick layer of dust covering every surface, it still looked pretty much the same as he remembered it. The dirty, cracked floor was still littered with sawdust and the massive chain-link cage set in the middle of the room was the same as ever. Logan stared at it for a long time, the sight of it bringing back so many memories. Remembering standing within it as his eyes roved defiantly over the sea of jeering faces until his hot gaze fell on a lone figure in a dark cloak; a figure whose shadowy face wasn’t calling for his blood but instead seemed to… what? For years now Logan had always wondered what that look on Rogue’s face meant when their eyes had first met, with him in the cage and her almost lost within the mob she was crushed into.
Taking a step forwards, he paused and breathed in deeply while a smirk crossed his lips; he wasn’t alone. Moments later he felt the barrel of a shotgun pressing against the back of his head and his grin widened. Déjà vu anyone? he thought as he recognized the person’s scent.
“I told you punks what would happen the next time you came around here to do more damage,” the voice behind him snarled furiously. “Now turn around, nice and slow.”
Raising his hands complacently, Logan slowly turned to face the man, whose eyes widened in shock and recognition upon seeing him while his jaw dropped several inches. “Goddamn,” he whispered.
Logan raised an eyebrow at the shotgun still aimed at his head. “You gonna keep pointin’ that thing at me, or am I gonna have to slice it in half again?” he demanded.
The old bartender’s eyes dropped to the gun as though surprised to find it in his hands. Slowly he lowered the weapon so the muzzle pointed to the ground though he continued to watch Logan warily. "Wolverine," he said. "If you're looking for a cage fight, you're in the wrong bar."
"Yeah, I noticed," Logan replied, peering around the dim interior once more. "Looks to me like you need to fire your cleaning lady."
The bartender snorted loudly as he placed the shotgun on a nearby table. "Want a drink?" he asked, already turning to the bar before Logan could answer. "I still keep a few bottles back here. Scotch alright?"
Logan grunted an inaudible reply as he followed behind him and sat himself on a stool at the counter while the old man poured two shots of scotch. Filling them to the brim, he handed an overflowing glass to Logan, keeping one for himself as he leaned comfortably against the worn counter.
Logan held his glass in his hand as he studied the amber liquid. "I'm surprised you'd want to have a drink with me, considering our last meeting."
The bartender shrugged his large shoulders and said, "Don't get much company out here these days. Unless you count the bastards who come by to wreck the place some more." He emptied the contents of his glass into his mouth, already reaching to pour another before he had even swallowed. "Name's Joe, by the way."
Logan was taken aback when the old man stuck out his liver spotted hand for a shake and he hesitated a moment before taking it in his own and giving it a few pumps while he simply said, "Logan."
Downing his own drink, he waited until Joe refilled it before asking, "So what the hell happened here anyway? Last time I was here, business was good."
Joe gulped back his third shot while he eyed Logan speculatively, clearly debating what he should say. Finally he drew in a deep breath and said, "Few years back my grandson, Spencer... he turned into a mutant."
Logan raised his eyebrow at the man's choice of words. Seeing it, Joe hastily rushed on, "Well, you know what I mean. For twelve years, he's a normal kid then one day he starts shooting these... blasts of some kind from his fingertips. He never tried to hurt anyone, he just... had a hard time controlling it sometimes." He paused to refill both glasses before continuing, "This is a small town and word gets around fast. People around here, they're not too tolerant of mutants. Christ, you know what I mean; look at they way they reacted to you... the way I did."
Logan nodded, remembering all too clearly the fear and disgust in everyone's face when he let his claws out after that hot-head tried to stick him with a knife. Not everyone though, he thought, Rogue's face dancing behind his eyes. She was never afraid or disgusted.
"Anyway," Joe went on, jerking Logan from the past. ""Things went downhill after that. People started harassing the family, me included, calling the house late at night, threatening them then hanging up, petty vandalism, stuff like that. My son finally had to take Spencer and the rest of the family out of here after someone nearly beat his wife to death. Told her it was for bringing a mutie into the world." Pain was in his voice as he spoke while his hands trembled slightly around his glass. "My son wanted me to go with them, but I wouldn't leave. This bar is my home and it's all I got. I'll be damned if I'm gonna be chased out by some ignorant hicks."
Logan smirked at him, finding the whole thing incredibly ironic. "It puts a whole different spin on things, doesn't it?" he asked. "When someone you love turns out to be one of the freaks you hate."
Joe hung his head in shame, unable to meet the other man's eyes as he spoke in a low voice. "After I saw everything that Spencer went through, the things people said and did to him once they knew what he was... I thought about you, the way I treated you. I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of; I'm glad that now I got the chance to apologize for one of them."
Logan was surprised to find himself somewhat touched by the man's words and the sincerity in his tone. "Don't worry about it," he said gruffly. "I've been called worse things then a freak in my lifetime."
Joe chuckled softly and raised the now half-empty bottle of scotch in a silent question while Logan gestured to his empty glass affirmatively. Pouring them both another round, Joe frowned as he took a small sip from his glass, his eyes distant. "Do you remember the girl?" he asked suddenly, causing Logan to jerk in shock, a bit of his drink sloshing out onto his hand from the action. He had just been staring at the stool where Rogue had once sat all those years ago, hunched within her voluminous coat as she nursed a glass of water and stared at him from the corner of her eye.
"The girl?" he asked blankly while Joe nodded.
"Yeah. Pretty little thing. Huge eyes, dark hair. She warned you about the nut with the blade?"
Logan nodded, hastily gulping back his drink and reaching for another as Joe continued. "That's another thing I'm not proud of. Poor girl looked half starved, obviously had no money and I couldn't even be bothered to offer her a bowl of pretzels or a cup of coffee. Think I even insinuated that she was going to rob my tip jar."
Once again Logan's eyes were drawn back to that stool, visualizing Rogue sitting there starving while he was polishing off a steak dinner with all the trimmings before heading to the bar for a beer. At the time he didn't know that she had been seated there. Had he known, would he still have sat there? He honestly didn't know. She had made him nervous with her tragic eyes and inscrutable expression; a haunted woman-child who showed no fear of him, the first person he had encountered who he couldn't get a clear read from.
"She had the most beautiful eyes," Joe was saying, his slightly slurred voice bringing Logan back to the present. "Greenest eyes I've ever seen. My father was a born and raised Irishman and he always told me that the Irish lasses had eyes greener than anywhere else. Was she Irish, d'ya think?"
"Southern," Logan replied automatically. "From Mississippi."
Joe paused with his drink raised halfway to his mouth before he lowered it again, an inquisitive expression on his wizened face. "Now how do you know that?" he asked curiously.
"I gave her a ride," Logan said evasively. His nostrils flared at a shift in the old man's scent and he looked up at Joe's alarmed expression as a growl rumbled threateningly in his chest. "I didn't do anything with her." he ground out, sensing the turn the bartender's thoughts had taken.
Joe nodded, an embarrassed look in his eyes. "Yeah, you don't seem like the type who would. Still, if you've been around as long as me you'll know there's plenty of sick fucks in this world. A guy like you could put some serious hurt on a little girl like that and you wouldn't even have to try."
His choice of words left Logan unsettled. Of course he had never physically hurt Rogue, aside from the stabbing her in the chest episode, but hadn't her hurt her in so many other ways? He remembered the night about two years ago when she told him that she loved him and his first words to her had been, 'I don't.' He had quickly explained that he meant that he didn't love her in that way, not as a lover, but the damage had already been done. She had been quick to recover from the rebuff, brushing it off and claiming that everything was alright, but he had seen something in her eyes die that night. Their friendship had continued on as usual, both of them pretending nothing had happened, but every now and then he would catch her looking at him with that dead look in her eyes.
"What was her name? Did she tell you?" Joe asked him now, and Logan took a long time before answering. Rogue's real name was something nobody knew, not even Charles, and he saw that he liked it that way; it was his and his alone to know. Yet a sudden urge to let someone else hear it filled him, the urge to let someone else know that once upon a time that girl from Mississippi had existed and he heard his voice say, "Anna Marie."
Rogue had once mentioned to him in an off-hand way that that was her full name, but the only person who ever called her that had been her mother; after she died and her father remarried, the first name was mostly forgotten. This was the first time Logan had ever said both names aloud and he discovered that he enjoyed the sound of it.
"It's a nice name," Joe said. "When me and my wife were about to have our firstborn, she made me spend hours going through baby name books, finding the meaning to each and every one, both male and female. Now let's see if I remember..." he trailed off in thought, sipping his drink slowly while Logan looked on in amusement. "Anna means gracious and Marie...means bitter."
Logan barked out a laugh when Joe finished talking. Gracious and bitter certainly fit her to a T, he thought, considering Rogue's kind nature combined with her paradoxically cynical attitude towards life. But then, that was what made her interesting and always kept him guessing; she was the most contradictory woman he had ever met.
Joe's eyes had grown a bit misty as he poured himself another jigger of scotch and took a healthy swallow before saying softly, "When I was a young man, I had a girl named Marie. Never loved someone so much before or since."
"What happened to her?" Logan asked, surprised to find that he was genuinely interested.
"I knocked up another woman," Joe replied bluntly. "I was a stupid kid who made a mistake, and I paid for it. Times were different then, I had to marry the other girl. And Marie...she was devastated. I never saw or heard from her again."
"You still think about her?" Logan demanded, watching as the old bartender tiredly scrubbed a hand across his grizzled face.
"Every day," he said softly. "And everyday I regret... God, so many things. She was the best thing to ever happen to me and I lost her because of my foolishness."
Logan refilled their glasses for the last time, draining the bottle of its contents before he raised his glass in a toast. "To Marie."
Joe smiled weakly as he raised his own glass and touched it to Logan's. "To both of them."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next night when Logan pulled up to the old bar, he was greeted with the sight of flashing red lights from an ambulance parked near the entrance while a crown of rubberneckers looked on in excitement. Parking his bike, he hurried to the closest person and asked, "What's going on?"
The man, a tall overweight fellow wearing a trucker's hat replied enthusiastically, "Joe's dropped dead. That old bartender? Had a heart attack right there at the bar. Some salesman looking for directions heard him tip over and called for help. They're gonna be wheeling him out soon."
As if on cue, a stretcher was rolled out by two paramedics, neither of them moving very quickly as it was apparent that Joe was in no rush; a white sheet covered him from head to toe, completely obscuring his face and body while one hand still clenched in a fist dangled lifelessly from the side.
As Logan watched, he saw something flutter from that hand to land in the snow and he moved quickly to pick it up before the rising wind could blow it away. In the dim light he saw that it was a photograph of a pretty blonde girl who couldn't have been more than eighteen, frolicking on a beach in an old-fashioned swimsuit. Turning it over in his hand, he read the faint inscription written on the back in spidery handwriting: Marie, June '59
Logan stood in the snowy parking lot as the ambulance pulled away silently, staring at the faded picture still clutched in his hand. He idly wondered if there was some significance to the fact that the first person that he had told Rogue's real name to had died less than twenty-four hours later, but he brushed the thought away. He was surprised at the unexpected wave of sympathy that washed over him for Joe who had died thinking of his lost love.
Absentmindedly tucking the photo into his pocket, Logan turned heel and leapt on his bike, revving the engine loudly before roaring out of the parking lot at high speeds. He had come here for answers, to sort out his feelings for Rogue. Instead he learned that he could waste a lifetime trying to put a label on everything he felt for her and still have no clue what it meant. His feelings were too deep, too big, too all-encompassing to simply be called love or lust or friendship; they always had been when it came to her. He didn't want to end up like Joe, alone with nothing but regrets and the knowledge that he lost the greatest thing he had; and as he drove away from the place where it had all began, Logan knew now that all he wanted was Marie.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: i Don't own any of the x-men or anything relating to them. i just like to play with them for my amusement
I don't know if anyone knows that it was recently revealed in the comics that Rogue's real name is Anna Marie, which I find to be an absolutely beautiful name for her. So i hope no one minds that i incorporated it into this chapter, and probably future ones to come. Any questions about anything, you all know where to find me. and keep those reviews coming, i'm super psyched you guys are liking it so far!!! i figure there's about 3 chapters left to go in this story, so enjoy! also, if anyone has seen the delted scenes from X3, there's one where Logan goes back to the bar, which made my inner L/R shipper jump for joy at it's significance. Title comes from the Matthew Good song, a truly lovely little tune
I don't know if anyone knows that it was recently revealed in the comics that Rogue's real name is Anna Marie, which I find to be an absolutely beautiful name for her. So i hope no one minds that i incorporated it into this chapter, and probably future ones to come. Any questions about anything, you all know where to find me. and keep those reviews coming, i'm super psyched you guys are liking it so far!!! i figure there's about 3 chapters left to go in this story, so enjoy! also, if anyone has seen the delted scenes from X3, there's one where Logan goes back to the bar, which made my inner L/R shipper jump for joy at it's significance. Title comes from the Matthew Good song, a truly lovely little tune
Chapter End Notes:
i really did look up the name meanings, and anna does mean gracious and Marie is Hebrew for bitter. another one said bitter sea, but that's just odd...