"Hey, this is Rogue. I'm either not home right now or I'm sitting right here, ignoring your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." He could hear the smile in her recorded voice, and he felt a tug at the corners of his own mouth. Almost as an afterthought, she'd added, "Growling doesn't count, either."
He felt like an idiot leaving messages on answering machines, always had. He rarely called anyone at all, and part of him always felt slightly offended whenever an actual person failed to pick up.
"Uh, hey," he ventured, just in case she did happen to be sitting there, screening her calls. "You there, kid?"
He listened for a moment, waited long enough for her to get to the phone from wherever she could possibly be within her small apartment. All he could hear, though, was the sound of his own breathing and the device recording it on the other end of the line. She didn't pick up, and he felt like even more of an idiot when he simply said, "Bye."
With time to kill before his next class, Logan wandered out onto one of the mansion's many patios, despite the chilly temperature and overcast skies. Patting his jacket, he felt for his cigars and pulled one out, biting the tip off one end and lighting the other.
He took a heavy drag and thought of her, which he found himself doing more and more often. What she was doing, how her classes were going. If her car was still making that noise, and how he should have gone ahead and bought her a new one even if it did piss her off. Wondered if she was doing all right by herself, and if Alaska was turning out to be everything she'd dreamed of.
Looking out across the grounds, Logan saw some of the students throwing around a football. Eleven of them, seven boys and four girls, and as he smoked and watched their game he found himself mentally noting each kid's strengths and weaknesses. Which ones ran faster, which ones caught the ball, and which ones shied away at the last moment.
The smallest child wound up on her ass more often than not, and he rooted for her each time she picked herself up and rejoined the game, ever more determined than before. Another kid, a boy whose voice cracked on nearly every syllable, never seemed to miss an opportunity to tackle anyone. None of them seemed very coordinated, but he suspected that had more to do with the way they were bundled up against the chill than with any natural lack of grace.
It didn't matter one way or the other, though, because they were thoroughly enjoying their Thursday afternoon. He watched as they kicked their way through piles of fallen leaves, shrieking with laughter and shoving one another, and he waved in response when a few kids spotted him.
It didn't take long for the others to catch sight of him, and he told himself that he was not at all delighted when they called out for him to join their game.
"C'mon, Mr. Logan!"
"Wolvie!"
Logan shook his head even as he stubbed out the cigar. "Nah, you guys are doin' fine on your own," he answered, stretching his neck to the side and listening to the metallic cracking. "You don't want to play football with your defense teacher."
One of the older girls shook her head, the beads on the ends of her braids clicking together. "You just don't wanna get your butt beat by a buncha kids."
An immediate chorus of shocked 'oooh's ran through the crowd and really, who wouldn't respond to a challenge like that?
He stood at least a foot and a half taller than the tallest child -- in no way did that stop the students from grouping around him, pushing and pulling him farther out onto the grassy field. He let himself be prodded along, played at reluctance, but he knew none of them were the least bit fooled. At some point in the last five years, his reputation as the resident bad-ass had slipped to the point where students freely called him 'Wolvie' and lived to tell the tale.
It must have been a hell of a long time ago, he thought, glancing down at the grinning monster wrapped around his calf. When he moved as if to shake her off, she clung all the tighter, curling her furry tail around his ankle. So he growled at her, rather menacingly, and the tug at his heart was almost painful when she answered with bared teeth and a little rumble all her own.
"We gotta make it quick, guys." At their groans, he pointed toward the sky. "Storm's gonna break soon, and I have another class in fifteen minutes."
He had doubts as to whether or not the storm actually would break, though. The smell of approaching rain had tickled his nose for days, but so far there was nothing to show for it except a few dozen squirrelly children kept indoors as long as possible.
"Me and the younger ones against you five older ones," he said. He motioned for Joey to toss him the ball and as soon as he snagged it from the air, the game was on.
Passes were thrown and missed, kids ran right into each other. Logan thought he'd laugh himself sick when one feathered Gifted Youngster in particular forgot which team he was on and tackled his own teammate.
It wasn't long before the tides of war changed and Logan had no team to speak of any longer. Girls and boys both younger and older united against him, and it was Them against the Wolverine for long drawn out minutes of what eventually amounted to Dodgeball.
If they were waiting for a moment of opportunity to present itself, they couldn't have asked for anything better than having his cell phone ring while he was in the midst of choosing his next target.
He'd barely gotten the phone to his ear when they swarmed him from all sides --kids pulling at his jacket, jumping on his back, pushing at his thighs and chest. It took a bit of maneuvering to fall without landing on one of them, but somehow he managed.
Logan kept a firm grip on the phone, despite prying fingers and wriggling bodies scrambling for purchase. "Hello?"
If he hadn't been blessed with enhanced hearing, he would have missed her bewildered laughter. "Logan?" she ventured, and he wondered what the chaos must sound like to her. "What in the hell is goin' on? Where are you?"
"At the bottom of a dogpile a dozen kids deep," he answered as he watched the girl with a tail run around the group, looking for the best spot to launch herself. Having an adamantium-enhanced frame came in damn handy sometimes. "Can you hold on a minute?"
"Sure thing, sugar."
To the mass of kids sprawled atop him one after another, he said, "C'mon, guys, lunch is almost over. Up."
"Who's on the phone?"
"Is it the Professor? I bet it's the Professor," Rebecca guessed, rolling her raspberry-colored eyes. Another kid dismissed that idea: "I bet it's his bookie."
"Wolvie, is it your arms dealer?"
Confused, another one said, "But he's already got arms."
Well, Logan thought, strangely pleased. Maybe I haven't completely lost the bad-ass reputation after all. Against his ear, the sound of Marie's choked laughter poked a rather large hole in that particular bubble.
"Is it a girl?"
"Oooh! I bet it's Miss Rogue!"
"I wanna talk to her!"
"Miss Rogue!"
More laughter in his ear. "Awww. They haven't forgotten me."
"'Course they haven't," he said, glaring at the kid in the process of pinching his nose shut. "Gimme a minute here, huh?"
Squirming around to tuck the phone into his jacket pocket, it took Logan more than just a moment or two to free himself, taking care not to hurt anyone. Growling and a series of well-placed tickles did the trick, and when the last child scampered away, he lay there for a moment before retrieving the phone.
"Still there?"
"Sure am," she answered, chewing something. "I wish to God there were pictures of that whole thing."
"Thank God there aren't." He came close to adding that she wouldn't need pictures if she'd been there in the first place, but the last time he'd said something like that she hadn't taken his calls for three days. "What're you eatin'?"
"Um . . . "
He knew from extensive experience that nothing ever good followed an 'um' from Marie. 'Um' had immediately preceded 'I had a little accident with your truck'. There was an 'um' the time she said 'Don't go ballistic, but I broke my arm. In three places.'
She'd said 'um' right before she'd said 'I want to go to school in Alaska, and I want to go without you.'
Staring up at the darkening clouds, he said, "Tell me you're eatin' something healthy."
"Cheese is very nutritional, I'll have you know." There was some slight coughing, and then she said, "Even if it does come in a jar."
Logan shook his head, took a deep breath. "Marie."
"I'm taking care of myself just fine, Logan." Her words were gentle and he could hear the smile behind them. "It's a snack, it's not the end of the world. If it makes you feel any better, there's crackers involved. And an apple. I'm even drinking a nice, tall glass of milk. Alright?"
Logan knew better than to keep on down that line of conversation, because really, you can only have the same argument so many times before you have to cut your losses. He listened to her breathe for a moment or two, recognized the old song playing on the kitchen radio.
He remembered the last meal they shared together, nearly three months ago. Pizza eaten from a box between them on the bare floor of her brand-new apartment, a bottle of cheap wine passed back and forth because they'd forgotten to bring the cups. He hadn't felt much like celebrating, but he couldn't forget the sparkle of pure excitement in her eyes.
A crack of thunder startled him out of his reverie, and he glanced at his watch. "Darlin' --"
"I know," she cut in, and there's something in her voice he can't quite figure out. "You were supposed to be in your classroom three minutes ago."
Logan shrugged, sitting up. "A few more minutes won't hurt 'em."
"I was out shopping when you called, or we would have had more time to talk." She sounded regretful, maybe apologetic . . . anxious, and something else.
"Not a problem, kid. What were you lookin' for?"
"The one thing that'll complete my living room," she answered. "A Greek urn I found at Pier One."
He had no idea what in the world she could use an urn for. "A vase?" he guessed.
"More like an alternative to ugly ashtrays."
Logan knew she didn't smoke, but his mind couldn't make sense of her words. Surely she didn't mean . . .
He didn't have time to figure it out. "I gotta go," he said. "If you want, I'll call you after your last class tonight."
"Yeah, that'd be great."
"Talk to you later, then."
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he waited for the response he knew would come. She always ended their calls the same way, which frustrated him to no end because he never knew what she wanted him to say.
There was a quick little sigh before she said, "I miss you, Logan."
He opened his mouth to mutter his usual 'you, too' and then thought better of it, his chest tightening up. He was sick of this shit.
"Then why are we doin' this?"
She didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "Logan . . ."
"If you miss me so damn bad, and you know I want to be up there with you in fuckin' Alaska, what the hell am I doin' here?" When he didn't get an immediate response he added, "You tell me, kid, 'cause I don't have a clue."
"I wanted to prove that I could do this without you," she burst out. Nobody liked being cornered, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.
"Who're you provin' this to?"
"Who do you think, dumbass?" She shouted out the answer, just in case he didn't get it. "You! I've been tryin' to prove that I can handle my own life, that I don't need you babysittin' me."
"There's a hell of a difference between lookin' out for you and babysittin' you!" Logan could hardly believe what he was hearing. "I know damn well you're capable of handling yourself, Marie. If I didn't believe that, I'd be camped out on your god-damned doorstep. Or did you think of that?"
He heard her teeth snap shut on whatever comment she was about to make. And then, much more quietly, she said, "Maybe I also wanted to know. For myself, I mean. That I can live independent from you."
Another peal of thunder and Logan felt the first few drops of rain splatter on his face. "How's that workin' out for you?" His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears.
"It's not working, not at all," she choked out. "I think about you all the time. I miss you every day. I pay my own bills now, I fix my own problems, but . . . but I . . ."
"Marie," he began, "do you think I worry about you and take care of you because you're some kind of burden I'm responsible for? That I don't think of you at the oddest damn times, that I don't miss you, too?"
Her silence was answer enough.
"And you say I'm the dumbass." His voice was gentle, though, and she gave a watery laugh.
The rain began to really pour, but Logan didn't really care. He was soaked to the skin but somehow felt lighter than he could ever remember feeling.
"I've been so stupid."
He could hear the apology in her voice. "We're both idiots -- let's leave it at that, alright?"
"Alright," she agreed.
Logan felt compelled to make damn sure they were on the same page. "What do you want, Marie?"
He didn't have to wait long for an answer.
"I want you to come to Alaska," she said, her voice strong despite her tears. "I want you to bring all your stuff, I want you to live here with me. I want you to love this place like I do. I want you to sleep in my bed and I want to eat breakfast with you every morning."
She was saying everything he never knew he wanted her to say. He cleared his throat before asking, "Is that all?"
Marie laughed, sniffling. "Nope, there's more."
"Yeah?"
"I want you to love me," she said. "And . . . yeah, that's pretty much it."
"I already love you, kid." And he was surprised by how easily that rolled off his tongue, so he said it again. "I've loved you for years."
She made a soft sound of surprise, her breath catching. Then she asked one more thing of him.
"When do you think you can get here?"
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Story Notes:
Jenn said 'jump.' Naturally, I asked 'how high.' Mega thanks go out to Caryn, for being available sixteen hours straight for an Instant!Beta, to my favorite Grammar!Grrrl, Macha, and Em because she caught that the bouncing timeline. I also want to thank Jenn for asking me to join illuminatedtext.com. My new site is http://skindeep.illuminatedtext.com.