Life was like a latte from Second Cup. Expensive but more than worth the cost.
Marie exhaled. Her breath smelled like White Mocha, looked like a blast of fog that hung in the frigid air. Winter in Montreal was a bitch. No wonder the Wolverine was fond of body hair; if this was Canadian winter, she almost envied Beast for his perma-shag-coat.
She was jolted from this comical thought when she was almost clipped by a city bus that whizzed dangerously close to her position on the sidewalk. That was another thing about Montreal she hated. The sociopathic driving style.
When the crosswalk finally blared walk across, she felt the day’s fatigue settle over her, felt every step in her bones. She only work five blocks from her apartment, but the work and bills were killing her. It didn’t help that the wind was howling up a storm and that she hadn’t yet given in and sacrificed style for slush proof boots. Although after two months of calling this city her home, she was doing remarkably well for a Southern girl in 21 degree weather.
She had to admit it surprised her how normal independence felt, how well she’d slipped back into her old routine of living hand to mouth with no plans but her own to concern her. It surprised her even more when she’d wander home from a bar at three in the morning, and her roommate Johnny didn’t even notice, let alone reprimand her. She was positively flabbergasted that it had been one month and fourteen days since she’d had to share her head with someone else. Freedom, in its entirety, was hers.
One thing that hadn’t surprised her was that no one had come to bring her back.
Marie pulled open the door to the apartment building and jabbed the elevator button. Screw it. She lived on the second floor, but was too tired to climb the one floor up. When the elevator came, she slumped against the wall and pressed the CLOSE DOOR button twice. To anyone observing her, they might feel sorry for her work-weary exterior. But these days, inside, she was always aglow.
Lykke Li’s “Little Bit” drifted through the door of her apartment, making her shake her head, not a trace of white left in the brown tresses. Only Johnny would be secure enough in his masculinity to blast Swedish chick music at four in the afternoon. Pushing her key in the lock and twisting the knob, the smell of pork and chive dumplings surrounded her. And she wasn’t fatigued enough to resist its siren aroma.
“Johnny?”
“Whassup?”
“Do ya’ll still say that up here?” She asked playfully, ignoring the withering look he shot her.
“How should I know? I’m not a local either, y’know.” But he’d been here for three years, studying at McGill, bartending to supplement his family money and the notches on his bedpost. “You look terrible.”
“Ah’m just tired. Thanks, by the by.” She smiled, trying to brighten up a bit. That was the weird thing. She’d done a total one eighty from the “thorny bitch” Logan had once told her she was. And even though she’d never fake her mood for anyone, she genuinely liked that Johnny had never thought of her as hormonal.
“You’re working too hard. I hope they pay you overtime.” She glowed inside. It was comforting that her only problem in the world was worrying about fair wages. “You thought anymore about taking some classes?” Ladies man or not, Johnny was a keen academic; he’d spent three years at Metro College before McGill, and he was intent on Rogue joining him on campus.
“Kind of hard to enrol, seeing as my passport says Ah’m someone who doesn’t exist.” She still wasn’t comfortable using her alias when she didn’t have to. She wasn’t interested in testing Canadian-American extradition laws concerning illegal mutant immigration.
“Maybe next year...” That was Johnny, always with the hopeful platitudes.
“Yeah. Maybe.” She echoed before dipping a dumpling in the soy sauce. It was better to just play along.
“So listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you... but with you being a workaholic and all...” His wink made her eyes roll, “remember that night we went to B-side and you had one too many, and you told me about your head problem?”
“Ah told you, that’s all in the past. Not a peep for ages.” Marie said around a mouthful of pork.
“Yeah, well, what if it’s only temporary?” Rogue swallowed hard, because he’d brought up a subject that plagued her some nights, so much so that she’d run on two hours of sleep at work. “If they make a repeat performance, I’d rather not have to look for a new roomie because my last one was a headcase.”
“Aw, you do like me.” Marie stole the dumpling from his hand and popped it in her mouth. She loved teasing him like that. She loved that she could. He grumbled, separating the remaining dumplings into two piles on the plate.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Do you know how many freaks are out there?”
“We’re freaks John.”
“Mutant genetics aside, there are some real doozies out there, I interviewed like a hundred people before you came along.”
“Aw, you-“
“Yes, yes, fine, I like living with you.” Suddenly his face became serious and Marie felt herself fidget. “I even like you well enough I don’t want to see you hurting. My sister’s boyfriend is a scientist. And I told him about your problem-“
“You what?!”
“Calm down, he’s cool. Dr. Richard Reed. We were in the same ‘accident’, you know.” He waggled his eyebrows and Marie got the message. “He said he’s been working on something that might help evict your... tenants permanently.”
“Johnny Storm, Ah could kill you,” she whined, placing her head in her hands, feeling the grease from the dumplings soak into her roots, “Ah don’t need anybody stickin’ me with electrodes and needles. Ah just escaped from that.”
“Marie, you’re being stupid. It’s worth a shot, anything is considering what you told-“
“No, Johnny, for fuck’s sake, leave it alone!”
That night in bed, Rogue agonized over yelling at Johnny, but she logically had nothing to worry about. Her skin had been in check, roared back to life and then come under control. Maybe, just like her toxic epidermis, her brain had found the happy medium and she had finally put her inner inmates on lockdown. Johnny meant well, but she was fine.
Yah right, chere, ‘e don’ know what he says.
Marie clamped her hands over her ears, a habit that was essentially pointless. She spent the whole night trying to quiet Remy’s soft, comforting voice. Around quarter after seven, he took the hint and turned mute. But he’d returned, and the silence had been broken. Johnny was right. She needed to evict them all permanently. Or at least try.
The month of February went by in what seemed like days. Marie was so busy picking up extra shifts at Chez Cora’s and helping Johnny study for midterms, she barely had time to laze around her apartment watching MTV like she wanted. And the few hours she did have free, she was at Doc Reed’s lab.
She almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed so intrigued, so incredibly certain that his method for exorcising her demons would work. So full of hope. He hadn’t been disproved and disappointed as many times as Professor X, Beast and Storm. He didn’t know any better.
And he seemed genuinely confused as to why Marie wasn’t as gleeful with his “cure” as he was. But she had agreed that February 30th they would start treatment. And today was the 29th.
Marie knew how rigorous some lab experiments could be, so she got ready for bed at ten and snuggled up to a book until she fell asleep, determined to be well rested for her nine a.m. appointment. The fates interceded when the loud knocking from her front door woke her from a deep slumber.
The clock on the wall shone 3:47. Marie rolled over, pulling her robe haphazardly over her shoulders and shuffling toward the hallway. She was going to kill Johnny for this. She had to be up at eight to get across town, and this was the third time he’d forgotten his keys. She flipped the lock, slid the chain free and pulled open the door.
“When Ah’m done with you, Ah-“
Her eyes turned to saucers. Her shoulders bunched beneath her robe. Lightning quick she grabbed the door with both hands and threw it closed, her fingers already clasping the lock bolt. But he was lightning fast too. Lightning and a second fast.
He shoved the toe of his boot in between the frame and the door before it slammed home. For a nanosecond she thought about breaking his foot with it. But Johnny wouldn’t be happy if she broke their door.
“No hug, Rogue?”
“Whataya want?” His fingers gripped the door, shoving it open as he moved to step inside, but this time she grabbed a fistful of his plaid shirt and with all her strength focused, hauled him into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her. She cursed in her head; now she’d have to break down the door to get back inside.
“Guess you’re more choosey than the doorman.”
“What’d yah slip him? A twenty or a claw? Cause anyone can see you’re all kinds of trouble...”
“Missed your sense of humour, kid.” She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, so she just assumed he was. He cocked his head to the side, staring at her in a way that made her feel sixteen again. “Your hair’s different.”
“My boss didn’t like the skunk look.” Logan frowned.
“That’s a bit harsh...”
“Ah seem to remember you not bein’ all too fond of callin’ me ‘Stripes’, sugah.”
“Guess I was wrong.” There was a pregnant pause where he stared at her dauntingly, and she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“What’re you doin’ here Logan?” It came out a mixture of exasperation and a whine. Logan rolled his neck, the thick cracking sound of metal and bone made her tense.
“Vacation’s over. Get your stuff.”
“Ah’m not goin’ anywhere with you Wolverine.” Marie replied tiredly.
“Says you.”
“-actually, you’re the one who kicked me outta your truck-”
“You wanted a ride to the station-“
“And you just couldn’t get me there fast enough.”
He didn’t argue. But to her brief surprise, or her imagination, she thought she saw guilt flit across his face that inexplicably needled her. She didn’t want that. She wanted them to have a screaming match, ending with him storming out of the complex in an emasculated huff, while she spared him a quick laugh and went back to sleep effortlessly.
“I wanted to sit down and talk to you, but seein’ as you don’t seem so amenable to that...” Rogue folded her arms over her chest defiantly. “Didn’t think you’d be so pissy about it.”
“You thought we’d just chat over a pot of green tea and become all buddy-buddy again? Ah never pegged ya for a dreamer.”
“I guess I missed you verbally kicking me in the balls every chance you get.”
“You can’t use a phone?”
“You didn’t leave a number, kiddo.” She resented the nickname almost as much as his inability to call ahead.
“Ah’ve been settling in. Plus it didn’t seem like anybody’d miss me.” She leaned against the wall, finally taking the time to look at him. He looked the same as the day they’d met; not just the fact that he hadn’t aged, but the way his clothes were wrinkled, like he’d slept in the car, and the way he held himself, like he’d gone a few rounds in the cage and was vibrating with weary energy. “So how long have Ah been under your special brand of surveillance?”
“Just got into the city yesterday. Found out where you lived, came straight away.”
“Wow. How gung-ho of yah.” She wondered how he found her, wondered how much of her new life he knew about already. “Well, it’s been swell, but Ah gotta rise and shine real early tomorrow for work.” She blatantly lied, hoping he had no idea yet about Doc Reed.
“So quit. You could sleep in.”
“In the real world, you gotta work to pay rent. Hand to hand combat doesn’t call to me like it does you.”
“So settle up and come home. I could spot you if you need-“
“Alright, hold up. If me talkin’ to you gave ya the impression Ah might be comin’ back with you, Ah shoulda just broken your foot when Ah’d had a mind to.” She thought she saw his mouth quirk, a reluctant smile that was gone so quick she couldn’t be sure it ever existed.
“You can’t just haul ass and expect no one to come get you.”
“Yeah, it’s fine when you do it.” She grumbled. He ruffled a little at the accusation in her voice and stood up a little straighter, a little more commanding.
“I’m here now. You’ve had your space; it’s time for you to come home so we can sort out what happened.” That caught her attention. What happened? He said it like he knew something she didn’t, which was impossible because she knew it all and no one else could have. Carol, Remy, Fury. It was her burden to bear, and after tomorrow, she had a slim chance at getting past it all. Couldn’t they just let her have that?
“My space? How about my life? My freedom? Some goddamn solitude?!”
“Marie?” Johnny couldn’t have picked a worse moment to introduce himself to the equation. He ruffled his bed-head hair, squinting at the hall light. His hangover from Friday night bartending was obviously setting in. “You alright?” Judging by the way Logan flared his nostrils, it wasn’t Marie who needed protecting. She turned her back on the glaring Wolverine and put her hand on John’s arm, gently pushing him back inside, lest he get sliced and diced.
“Yeah, Johnny, go back inside.” He didn’t budge, not until she shot him her patented (remember I’m stronger than you could possibly imagine) look. And even then he turned the lock in the door so it stayed open. She avoided looking at Logan for as long as possible; she wasn’t sure if he’d look smug or outraged.
“Solitude, huh.” His voice said it all. Outraged it is. “Kind of hard to get when you’re shackin’ up with... Who’s the douche bag?”
“He’s not. And we’re not.” Was that a flicker of relief in his eye? “Ah don’t expect you tah get it, but Ah don’t sleep with every member a’ the opposite sex Ah cross paths with.” That barb was something that would have hurt him in the past, especially coming from sweet little Marie. But from his stony, unmoved face, Rogue guessed they’d long since passed the point of hurting each other with words alone. “You want me to come back with ya? Ah’d take down this whole building with you tryin’ tah drag me out of it.”
“I’ll take down this whole building myself, starting with pretty boy in there-”
She was in his face so fast, he actually moved back a millimetre in shock.
“You will not threaten me. Or my friend.” Her nose was almost touching his, she could feel his breath on her chin, but his eyes weren’t rattled like she wanted them. She could feel the heat of his chest radiating onto hers, almost felt the air move between then with every deep, angered breath they took. Looking into those stubborn, hazel eyes, she had the sudden urge to grab him and shake some sense into him. She needed him to go, before she hurled him through a wall.
She broke eye contact, sank back down from her toes and made to move away. Marie hadn’t counted on Logan having a similar urge to shake her. His adamantium grip snagged her left arm; he didn’t yank her back, but she couldn’t move any farther away.
“I won’t let you go again. You’re not safe. You’re living with a stranger for fuck’s sake. Does he even know what you’re capable of?”
“Ah went on the road with you before we knew each other. There was a time Ah thought that showed Ah had a good judge a’ character.” She pulled back, but his grip wasn’t loosening and he was actually starting to pull her toward him. “You think women actually like you bein’ all ass-backward, psycho protective of them? Or’d you forget Ah could toss your big kittycat ass across the province?”
“Go ahead Marie. You hate me so much, why don’t you punch it out?” She froze, looking at him intently. Tempting. “Go on. Try and put a dent in me. Tire yourself out.” Oh, how she wanted to. But that’s what he wanted too. For her to damage her new life and by default, have to go back with him.
“Ah’m already tired of you. Go away Logan.” He looked infuriated, and a bit deflated. She peeled his fingers off her small bicep, and they curled into a fist when she let him go. She pushed open the door to her apartment, but before entering, she turned and gave him her best wounded look. “You said you weren’t my father. You said you were my friend.” Logan shook his head.
“That was a long time ago.” He said it with no emotion. She waited for him to say more, leaning against the open door. She needed him to say more. When he didn’t, she sighed, massaging her aching forehead.
“Well you’re still not my father.”
“I’ll wait you out.” The door was closing already.
“Then you’ll be waitin’ a lifetime.”
“I can do that.”
She shut the door soundly in his face and threw the deadlock in place. She leaned against it, hoping he’d realize that cutting down the barrier would cut her up too. After five minutes, his footfalls began to sound farther away and she slumped forward, cussing him out in her head. She was tired, but knew she’d be unable to sleep the rest of the night.
“Who’s the hairy tool?”
“He’s gone now. Go back to bed, Johnny.”
“He’s gonna come back though. Isn’t he?”
“Fuck if I care.”
“Yeah. Right.” From his tone, Marie figured he knew she was lying, but wouldn’t press the issue at four in the fucking morning. He shuffled back into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving her in the hallway to think about how seething mad Logan made her, and how mad she made herself for noticing how lovely his breath felt on her face.
Life is like a coffee, the espresso does you no good, but you keep on taking a sip.
When Marie ducked into work ten minutes late for the lunch hour rush, she just barely had time to notice the other waitress Manon had left her a note on her locker. She had to ask her what it said because of her terrible English writing.
“A grumpy man wearing peejamas came in looking for you.”
“Pajamas?”
“Yes... uh, un chemise comme...ca.” She pointed at a hipster student wearing an orange plaid button up. “But not like dis colour.” Oh, god. So he was harassing her at work now. Fan-freaking-tastic.
“This grumpy man... Did you tell him I was coming in late?”
“Mais oui.” Marie couldn’t stifle her exasperated groan. “Pardon, Marie.” And the thin blonde Quebecois flitted off to seat a party of seven in her section, acing Marie out of a hefty tip. Balls.
Rogue spent the next two hours on edge, her neck craning every time the door jingled open. She almost wished he’d just put her out of her misery. But of course he’d do it when she was deep in conversation with her boss.
“Nice apron, kid.” Marie slowly turned to face him, hoping her boss was used to large Anglo-Canadian lumberjacks with aerodynamic hair interrupting them. Given the raised eyebrows, she guessed not so much. “She’s taking her break.”
“No. I’m not.” She commanded, giving Logan a pronounced stink eye. “Uh... je m’excuse.” Her boss just shrugged and moved away toward the kitchens. “Ah don’t remember you bein’ this bossy.”
“I never thought I’d have to be.” He retorted in a low voice.
“Take a seat. I’ll break in half an hour. Ya’ll can leave, or order and wait.” Logan took the proffered seat.
“Bourbon.”
“It’s two in the afternoon.” She dropped a tall glass in front of him and began to pour. “Here. Water.” He looked as if the clear glass in front of him was a personal insult. “Half an hour.” Before Logan could protest, she whipped around to take another table’s orders and didn’t glance at him once until thirty minutes had passed.
“Half an hour. You said.”
“Ah did, didn’t Ah?” She paused, pretending to think about postponing her break until she heard the chair scrape menacingly under him. “Manon, Ah’m takin’ twenty. You. Outside.”
Four minutes later they were on the back stoop behind the kitchens, her with a coffee, him with the bourbon he’d threatened out of the fry cook.
“Hafta say, Ah don’t like bein’ ordered around.”
“Then why are you a waitress?”
“By you, Logan. Ah don’t like bein’ ordered around by you. Seriously, what happened to all that crap about you bein’ a friend and not makin’ my decisions for me?”
“That rule doesn’t apply internationally.”
“Har har. You grew a sense of humour while Ah was gone.” She took a long draw from her coffee, trying to suppress a shiver.
“You really like this gig? Slingin’ substandard hash browns for hungover University kids and families with snotty rug rats? For minimum wage and shitty tips?”
“It’s fine for now. Things are tight, with the bills, but Ah’m gettin’ by. Considering Ah never had a job before... it’s actually kinda thrillin’.”
“Uh huh. You’ve battled evil super villains, but blue plate specials really get you going.”
“Again. Har. Har.”
“Gotta ask... why Quebec?”
“Extra insurance. You hate French people.” He snorted. At least she wasn’t running low on spunk.
“So deep down, you knew I’d come after you.”
“Deep down, Ah knew you hated French people. Maybe Ah came here to spite you.”
“That so?”
“Maybe.” And then she smiled. It was small, but her mask cracked enough. The tension in his gut that’d taken up residence since she left eased a little. “How long we gonna play twenty questions?”
“Till I get caught up. You been gone three months.” Three months he’d spent on the road trying to pick up her trail. He’d taught her well. He was halfway to the Yukon before a guy called Wyatt Wingnutt or some stupid name called him with information on a girl named Stella Drake.
“Yeah, Ah’m real interestin’.” She said it in a sarcastic voice. It was a relief. Montreal was full of college kids and clubs and he’d imagined infinite scenes in which Rogue found her way into trouble. Not danger, just trouble.
“Well, I wanna hear it all. Start to finish. Nothin’ left out.”
“Why the sudden interest? Even before Ah left... you didn’t seem so keen on heart-tah-heartin’ with me...” The year prelude to her departure wedged between them like an invisible elephant. He wanted to answer her, but this wasn’t the place. There wasn’t enough time.
“You wanna talk about this now, or do I get more than ten minutes?” At first, a flash of anxiety swept across her face, followed by uncertainty. His grip on the bourbon threatened to shatter the glass, so he downed the liquid in case.
“What’d you have in mind?” She finally asked tentatively. He shrugged, relishing the warmth trickling down his abdomen.
“I walk you home. We go inside. No green tea buddy-buddy shit, just you an’ me talkin’ like right now.” Marie nodded slowly, rolling the idea around for a moment. She eyed him suspiciously.
“This ain’t a trick. Ya’ll aren’t plannin’ on kidnappin’ me or havin’ another screaming match, or-“
“Just talking, Marie.” Another nod. More considering.
“No skewering my roommate either.” He looked displeased with this arrangement. “Wolverine...”
“We’ll see.” He conceded. She shook her head.
“No. Not ‘we’ll see’. Ah see your knuckles reflectin’ light, you’ll be takin’ a flight out the window.”
“...Maybe it’d be best if he stayed out late.”
“He usually does. He’s a bartender. And a lotta times he sleeps... elsewhere.” She paused, as if an epiphany had just struck her dumb. “Actually, under different circumstances, Ah think you two’d really hit it off.”
“Sure.” They watched a cat dart out from behind the garbage dumpster and up the alleyway toward the fish market. “He’s still a douchebag.”
Marie wanted to throw her lukewarm coffee in his lap.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the late update. Listened to Lykke Li while writing. Wolverine-Rogue romance in Canada coming up...