The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Um... anyone remember this fic?! I'm finally... finally... finishing it off. This (actually rather short) epilogue has taken me a mere 4 months to post.... that's pretty slack - heh! Part of the reason I've been so lazy is that a big part of me likes where it ended in the last chapter, and I'm worried about overdoing it with an epilogue that's not needed. But if you do want to read it & find out what happens a few months down the line - well... then here it is.
Big thanks to empressnan for her help & for prodding me in the right direction (i.e. towards finally getting around to posting!)
Big thanks to empressnan for her help & for prodding me in the right direction (i.e. towards finally getting around to posting!)
What was it I said to you at the beginning of this story? Do you ever wonder who you are? Have you ever felt like a fake in your own skin?
God that seems like years ago now.
All the self-doubt. All the sass I used to hide it. I understand it more now. Oh, I'm still just as bad, don't get me wrong. There ain't no 'and they rode off into the sunset together and they all lived perfectly sensible lives happily ever after' cure-all ending. Heh. To be honest, if that was the case, I think I would get bored.
It's been months, and I still fall apart occasionally. I still act stupid when I'm drunk. I still get grouchy when I don't get my own way. But then... well... Logan gets grouchy too. Especially in the mornings. And he's not a big talker, although I more than make up for that.
I guess what I'm saying is that neither of us is perfect. But he picks me up when I need it the most, and I try and do the same for him.
Maybe, between us, we can just about scrape together a whole person again.
...Or maybe I should just stop over analysing everything to shit, take each day as it comes, and say screw you world. Like anybody else out there is normal.
I should definitely stop talking to myself. That would probably help.
“You asleep?”
Logan's voice startles me out of my mind-ambling stupor. I shake my head. Uhh, fuzzy. Hate that. “Not yet,” I yawn massively. “Although only just. Why? You want me to drive for a while?”
He gives me a half-amused look. I'm becoming pretty damn good at interpreting those looks these days, even if I do say so myself. This time, the raised eyebrow is clearly saying 'you serious? Hell no.'
“I'm not that bad.” I grumble in my defence.
The half-amused look widens into a full on smirk.
“I missed the tree didn't I?” I still swear the thing came out of nowhere! It was over a week ago as well and I was least a foot away from hitting it. Whatever. Self-righteous smug bastard. He's lucky he looks so hot when he does that.
I make a good effort at pouting, but it fails pretty much before it's off the ground. Instead I find I can't help the smile that crawls across my face. I don't mind it being there either, because his good humour is infectious. In the end I give up, slouch back in my seat, wriggling my bare feet up on the dashboard like I love, and watching the trees race by the window of our truck in a dark green blur.
It’s been just over eight months since we left the Mansion. Eight months since the morning Logan left me to sleep in. Since he went to wake up Scott and told him it was time he hauled his ass out of bed. That there was a school that needed runnin'.
Eight months. Yeah. Take note of that date. There’s an age-old life-lesson in there somewhere. One involving protection and thinking before you... well... grope in the rain.
We’ve been living in Canada. Got ourselves a scraggy looking piece of land by a lake with a cabin that’s big enough for the two of us, and far enough away from all civilisation that neither of us have to worry too much about lying low. Not that it makes all that much difference. Out there, no one really gives a damn about what the Government wants anyway.
Still, we decided it's safer not to take risks. Even after a file and two highly-classified hard drives arrived on our doorstep one day, along with the lingering smell of jet fuel, and a note from Scott saying he knew a guy who could teleport and a girl who could walk through walls.
Logan went very quiet, that day. Even though the weather was god-damn awful, he went off on his own for a few hours. Worried the hell out of me. When he came back he burned the lot. It was one of the only times I've seen him really angry since we left.
Anyway, I'm not naive enough to believe that the Government only had three copies of my file, but... well... it's a start.
Eight months.
Christ, you should have seen his face when he first found out. He went white.
Eight months can go by very quickly though. It feels strange to be heading back so soon.
We agreed with the Professor that it’s okay for us to visit the Mansion again for this. This is scary and new. For both of us. And dammit, I am not brazening this one out. I want doctors and a fuck lot of drugs around.
We stop for gas outside of Albany and Logan leans in to nuzzle my ear before heading into the station. “You want anything?”
God yeah. I’m constantly hungry at the moment. “Hmmmm... Fried bologna on rye with mayo and lettuce?”
“They ain't gonna have that here, darlin;”
Ugh. “Chicken salad sandwich then.”
He nods.
“...Oh, and a Coke?”
Eyebrow. “Anythin’ else?”
I shake my almost empty packet at him hopefully. “More Goobers?”
A smart looking business woman gives me a disapproving look as I waggle my bare feet in her direction, comfortably eating the last few chocolates off my giant belly.
And is this a clichéd ending? Who knows. We're far from perfect. We still argue. I still screw up. Regularly in fact. I still get freaked out by all the large insects in the woods... they're huge goddamit... and I worry about all the wrong things. I still talk to the voices in my head.
Is it an ending at all? Because really, it’s nothing more than a moment. It’ll pass into memory like everything else, and the world, your world will go on regardless.
But...meh... that’s being far too philosophical about the whole thing.
Personally, I'd much rather just sit here eating chocolates and feel all loved-up.
God, I need to pee again. How long before we get there?