The sharp smell of popcorn, cotton candy, hot dogs, and vomit hit Logan's nose in a nauseating blend. He also noted an undertone of animal waste and human sweat. At least it wasn't summer, he thought, although the warm California autumn evening wasn't much better. The carnival was larger than the last few he'd been to, which meant he'd probably end up working harder. He willed his ears trying to pick out the patter he knew to listen for above all the other barkers and noisemakers.
"Hey, fuzz face!" This from a stick-thin bottle blond in tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt. "Hey, I said," she repeated, "fuzz face..." She laughed and stumbled slightly. "You're a long tall drink of water, huh?" She said this while putting on what was no doubt her most seductive look, which involved an open mouth and a vacant stare. He started to brush by her when he paused and leaned close.
"Do you know where the ten-in-one is?" he said quietly.
"Whaddya want with those animals?" she said with a sneer.
"What I want is my own goddamn business," he said, "do you know where it is or not?"
"Yeah, whatever," she said with less interest, "it's over past the Wall of Death."
He walked past the line of people waiting to toss their cookies on the roller coaster, past the elephant ears stand, past the ring toss and the pop-a-shot. The Wall of Death had a slightly smaller line of people waiting to enter; he heard the roar of the motorcycle and thought for a second about checking it out. As he approached he heard the patter--softer than the other barkers, more secret and sinister.
"Ten-in-one, ladies and gentlemen, ten of the most horrifying, fascinating, mesmerizing freaks you've ever seen in one big show. See Dolly, the incredible Living Doll! Marvel at the feats of Luna, our own Angel here on Earth! The strength of the Brute will astound you! Listen to the hypnotic song of Lorelai the Mermaid--gentlemen, earplugs are available to prevent you from falling under her spell if you so desire... But please, please, ladies and gentlemen, do not under any circumstances miss the terrifying creature that is..." he paused dramatically and resumed his patter in a hushed, serious tone, "the Rogue... the unearthly beauty with the vampire skin! Look all you want, but don't touch--or risk losing you life to her deadly body! And gents, let me tell you, it's deadly in more ways than one, va-va-voom!"
Logan paid the fee and the barker ushered him into the tent where a couple dozen others were waiting for the show to start. There were several couples and a few kids, but the bulk were single men like himself, sitting uncomfortably and looking anywhere except at each other.
After a few minutes the barker entered the tent and welcomed the audience. The Living Doll was aptly named--a tiny woman dressed in a frilly dress with waxy skin and a deaden look.
Not even a mutant, Logan thought derisively, wondering if he'd misjudged this carny.
The Mermaid was sickly and the glue was peeling off of her tail. She did have an oddly compelling voice, however.
After a few more disappointing displays the audience was visibly restless. Suddenly the lights went dark and a spot trained on the barker announcing the next exhibit--Luna, the Angel here on Earth. She was tall and skinny--barely dressed--with almost luminescent skin. She spread her arms and her skin began to glow brightly and she rose gently off the floor, floating and twirling in the soft light emanating from her body. The audience gasped and leaned in. She was quite beautiful. She rose higher with each spin eventually almost reaching the top of the tent. The barker--who apparently functioned as keeper as well as emcee--grabbed a long stick with a loop at the end and spoke severely--"Luna! Down. Now."
The floating angel twirled at the top of the tent one more time and drifted slowly to the floor. The audience exhaled collectively and wondered what could possibly top the act.
The Brute was a large man who swallowed swords and drove a spike up his nose with a hammer. The barker invited audience members to come on stage and pound nails into his arms and knives into his stomach. The Brute stood passively while a teenage boy slammed a large nail in his foot. He didn't bleed.
Finally the barker led the Brute away and announced the final display. Two carny kids--the barker's?--set up a flimsy rope barrier.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I cannot emphasize this enough--stay behind the rope. We will not be held responsible for any injury or death if you should disregard this warning!" he said beckoning, as if inviting the audience to defy him.
The small curtain pulled back and a girl--at least it looked like a girl, but it was swathed from head to toe in a heavy cloak--walked on to the stage. She kept her eyes trained on the floor, her shoulders hunched tightly. Her hair, dark except for two white streaks in the front, was in pigtails; she looked about sixteen.
The barker stood silently for a moment, letting the audience look at the girl.
"And now," he said, "the deadly skin of... the Rogue!"
The girl twitched slightly as if startled and raised her head. Logan growled involuntarily; it was like an electric shock, looking in her eyes, even from across the tent. One of the women sitting near him glanced over at the noise and smiled appreciatively.
The girl's expression changed suddenly and she reached for the clasp at her throat. She dropped the cloak and straightened her posture, shaking out her pigtails as she did. She walked to the edge of the rope, daring the gawkers to touch her. She wore a a thin metal collar and few bits of cloth that covered enough body parts to keep it from being a peepshow. Her skin was pale, translucent even.
"Alabaster," he whispered, conjuring a word from some long forgotten past.
The Rogue stood tall and defiant now, an enigmatic smile and darkened eyes that seemed to always be trained on Logan. He knew--felt in his heavy bones without really understanding why or how--that even if she wasn't the one he was supposed to find he'd take her with him anyway.
The barker gestured off stage and the Brute emerged dragging Luna, who was visibly upset. She was crying and when she saw the Rogue she crumpled to the floor screaming. The Rogue turned to her and hesitated.
"Just for a second, my dear," Logan's sensitive ears heard the barker whisper, "just enough to give these rubes a show."
She walked over to Luna who was now past hysteria, sobbing choked tears. Rogue held out her hand, pointing her index finger at her. The Brute forced Luna's hand towards Rogue's outstretched finger in a disturbing pantomime of the Sistine ceiling. Their fingers met briefly; Luna fell to the floor in a heap. Rogue shuddered slightly, dropped her arm, and lifted her head. Her skin began to glow with the same luminescence Luna's had only a short time before; she raised her arms and began to float and twirl just as Luna had done.
The audience breathed as one, eyes fixed on the girl who was now high above the stage, twirling faster and faster, almost madly.
"Rogue!" yelled the barker, "get down now!" He took a device out of his pocket and pressed a button. The girl clutched the thin collar around her neck and cried out. She fell to the floor like a stone. All defiance and power left her and she was once again an undernourished young girl, eyes averted from the audience, trying in vain to cover her body. Tears formed in her eyes.
The Brute led Luna away and the barker threw Rogue's cloak over her and gathered her close.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you have enjoyed the show!" he cried as the two skinny kids started to usher everyone out.
"Hey kid," Logan said to one of them, "is there a private show?" The kid looked at him quizzically for a moment, sizing him up.
"Hang on a sec," he said, "I'll be right back." Logan waited near the entrance to the tent. After a few minutes the kid came back with the barker in tow.
"I hear you want somethin' private," he said leering slightly. "You ain't a cop, are ya?"
Logan scoffed at that. "I got money," he said, showing a few bills.
"Well, that's a horse of a different color," said the barker, his expression brightening. "I gotta tell you, Luna's pretty worn out right now, but Lorelai's good to go... unless you'd prefer little Dolly? Or perhaps your tastes run towards the Brute?"
"I want the Rogue," Logan said gruffly. The barker rolled his eyes.
"I shoulda known, big guy here's got a death wish," he said to the kid. "Look, we can work with this. You gotta know we won't be held responsible if anything happens to ya," he continued, "that's no joke. She sucks you dead and we dump ya out with the trash. Your mama never knows what happened to her bright young boy, you understand?"
"Yeah."
"Okay then. Follow me." The barker led him out the back tent to where several trailers were parked. He named his price and Logan paid it. He gave Logan some latex gloves and a condom and told him to wait in a small trailer equipped with a cot and not much else. He heard the barker approaching with the girl.
"Listen to me, girly," he heard the barker say, "he's a big 'un, and I don't want you gettin' any ideas about sucking out some strength to maybe run away from old Sid, y'hear? 'Cause I'll fuckin' zap you till you ain't fit for the produce aisle. Ya don't need brain smarts to do your act, missy."
"Okay, Sid," the girl whispered, "I'll behave."
The trailer door opened and she walked in.
The girl entered the trailer slowly. She was wearing her cloak and staring at the floor. Her face looked older now than it had on stage. She lifted her head, cocked to one side, looking at him sideways. He felt the same current of energy he had before; he felt like there was a burning wire stretched from his brain to hers, a wire unbreakable like the metal in his bones. He couldn't look away.
"How old are you?" he asked harshly. Jesus, he thought, I gotta job to do. I can't be thinking about fucking the talent.
"Twenty-one," she said, a trace of magnolia coloring her accent. Shit. Legal in all the ways there were to be, even the ones the government didn't seem to care about anymore. Shit.
"You lyin'?"
"No. Sid says it works better if I look like a schoolgirl so he makes me up like one. You disappointed?" Fuck. Not the way you're thinkin', kid. Job to do. No fucking the talent.
"No. What's your name, kid?" She stared at him.
"Why the hell would I wanna tell you that? So you can yell it out while you're fucking me? Fuck you."
"Okay, okay, forget I asked," he said. "Sit down. I want to talk."
"Fuck that. You didn't pay Sid for talking and I sure as shit don't talk to the guys who buy what Sid's selling. You don't want it, I'm outta here." She turned to leave the trailer. Logan stood swiftly and with a *snikt* released the claws in his right hand and blocked her from leaving.
"Don't go," he said. She was frozen in place, staring at the claws.
"Ho-ly motherfuckingchristonthecross," she said. "You're a... what the fuck are those?" He grinned.
"You kiss your mama with that mouth?" he asked. She glanced sharply at him.
"I don't kiss anyone with this mouth," she said. "Fuck you." She looked even angrier than before, but she sat on the cot. "You can't tell me you were born with those," she said. "Who the fu-heck did that? Did it hurt? Does it hurt when they come out?"
"It hurts every goddamn time," he said, retracting them. Where'd that come from? He'd never told anyone--let alone some mutie talent he was just supposed to pick up and deliver--about the burning, cutting pain of the claws.
"You kiss your mama with that mouth?" she asked, smiling widely. He opened his mouth ready with a sharp retort when he stopped. Jesus. He'd walk across a mile of broken glass and jump in a vat of vinegar for a smile like that. Her face went from pretty but overshadowed, haunted, to the most beautiful face he'd ever seen in the span of a second. He was aware of the wire he imagined between them, binding them together in an unbreakable knot, cutting their skin, and branding them with a pain that was somehow sweet and welcome. He wondered if she felt it too.
"Listen, kid, I got a proposition for you," he said.
"I don't know about you, but payin' Sid pretty much makes this a done deal," she said.
"Not that kind of proposition," he said. A done deal. Shit. Maybe he could just... No. No fucking the talent. "Look, I've been hired to find tal-people like you and make 'em an offer." That's it. Get the talent on your side before you negotiate with the money. Especially when the talent can be deadly.
"What kind of offer?" She looked curious, but wary.
"Come work for some old guy doing, uh, stuff you're particularly suited for," he said. "You'd get your own place to live, money, and you wouldn't have to wear one of those," he said gesturing at the thin collar around her neck.
"There's always one of these," she said, looking sad. "Even when you can't see them. What kind of stuff?"
"Huh?" He was looking at her full lips turned down in sadness and wondering what he could do to get another one of those smiles.
"What kind of 'stuff I'm particularly suited for' would I have to do?"
"Does it matter?" he said. "You won't have to show your tits or fuck anyone you don't want to." If you _did_ want to, on the other hand... No. No.
"It matters."
"You'd... you'd be working with other mutants towards, uh, establishing a mutant presence in the eye of the world," he said. She looked at him in disbelief.
"Is that what you're doing?" she asked.
"I'm-- I'm freelance," he said.
"I don't know," she started to say when they both heard a woman scream outside the trailer. "Lori!" Rogue jumped up and went to the door. Logan followed.
Outside the large muscular mutant billed as "the Brute" was grappling with the sideshow mermaid, her tail now removed. She was trying to use her voice to subdue him but he wasn't responding. He had her by the arm and was dragging her to a trailer next to theirs.
"Jim!" Rogue yelled. "Jimmy, stop it right now!" She ran quickly over to the two mutants. "Don't make me," she said holding up her bare hand as if ready for a slap. The Brute brushed past her without a glance. She grabbed him by the arm and for a second it seemed like he didn't even notice. Logan clenched his fists, ready to pop the claws and blow his cover in an instant if Rogue was in trouble. Lorelai gasped and reached out to her in terror. She grasped Rogue's hand tightly and for a moment they froze, the three mutants bound by touch: the Brute held Lorelai by one arm, she clutched Rogue with her free hand, Rogue gripped the Brute's wrist. Then it started. Lorelai collapsed first, then the Brute. Rogue dropped her hold on him in a flash and tried to pull her arm out of Lorelai's hand.
"Help," she said to Logan in a thin, reedy voice. "She'll die." Logan knelt and unhooked the mermaid's hand from Rogue's arm. Rogue stumbled a little and fell to the ground. She cried out with a raw scream that rattled his soul; the pain in that noise was laid bare and exposed to the world.
"Rogue," he said. "Rogue?" She lay on the ground in a fetal position, muttering to herself while tears ran from her eyes. Logan touched her hair and her shoulder, where it was safe. "Come on, darlin'" he said softly. He stroked her hair and felt the hard collar at her neck. With a growl he popped a claw and cut it off and cast it aside. He looked at the red chafe mark where the collar had rested for who knows how long. She cried out in a deep, strangled voice:
"God forgive me!" She lifted her head and met Logan's eyes. "Have you got any sweets?" she asked in a high-pitched tone.
"Shit!" This was Sid, the barker, walking up behind Logan, surveying the scene. "Her brains'll be scrambled for days. She took down half my show!" Logan stood and faced him, his face impassive.
"Look, bub," he said. "Normally I do this the polite way--with money. This time I'm gonna do it my way--which means you do what I want and I don't gut you. Understand?"
Sid looked like he was about to object when he noticed the claw still extended at Logan's side.
"Damn," he said. "You'd be a good addition to the show. We need a new flash act since our firebug bit the dust..."
"Sid."
"Whaddya want?"
"I want Rogue," Logan said.
"You can't have her--she's my moneymaker," Sid said.
"I'm takin' her and you ain't puttin' up a fight, okay? It seems to me your muscles in this outfit is over on the ground there," Logan said waving at the Brute. "You think about goin' to the cops and they'll be real interested in how many unregistered muties you got in this show, right?"
Sid dithered and tried to bargain but eventually Logan packed a nearly catatonic Rogue and a small bag of her belongings into his camper and hit the road.
The old man probably wouldn't be too happy with his obvious display of mutanthood, Logan thought. The old man could go to hell.
It could take up to a month, Logan thought, if they needed to hole up a while. At least they could both pass for human if need be. Once she gets a hold of her mind, at least. He glanced at her, next to him in the cab of his truck. She was curled in a ball, trembling and muttering.
"No no no no nononono..." she whispered. "I _have_ been good, mama!" Practically all trace of the sassy girl with the sailor's mouth was gone; she looked lost and hurt.
"Hey, kid," he said. "What, uh... can I do something?" He didn't know how to deal with this situation. Crazy mutants weren't part of the job description, no matter how pretty and soft they were, or how much they smelled like home and comfort.
"My name is legion," she said darkly, "for there are many of us." She sat up straight. "I am the resurrection... Lazarus! Come forth!" She started panting shallowly. "I am thirsty..."
Logan was about to offer her the water bottle when she looked at him with clear eyes. He held his breath. Was she coming out of it?
"You see," she said softly, "I've learnt my verses: may I have a holy card now, Sister? I am good. I am."
She slumped in the seat. "I'll make her give it to me," she said, "I'll make her. Give it to me!" The last was uttered in a deeper tone, a tone that rumbled Logan's bones and made him look around involuntarily for whatever it was she wanted.
Shit. The mermaid's voice. She hadn't sounded like that in her act; the voice coming from Rogue was strong and insistent. He grabbed the first thing he could--some beef jerky--and handed it to her. She clutched it and tore off a bite. She held it to her chest and looked at him with lowered eyes.
"The subject shows remarkable resistance to drug treatment," she said in a monotone, "her mutation appears to be of the worst kind: deadly to humans while able to be concealed from all but the most observant. I feel we have no choice but to consider more radical methods of containment." She thrust her arm out rapidly and hit the dash full on, leaving a large dent. "It is unfortunate that her mutation manifested so late in development, as she has socialized as a human..." Her voice trailed off and she rested her head against the seat. She stared out the window silently, eventually drifting off to sleep.
Logan drove until he felt like there was enough dust between them and the carny. He pulled off the road and did what he could to make the camper as discreet as possible. As gently as he could he picked Rogue up and carried her sleeping form to the back. She was really out. He settled her in the sleeping bag, making a place for himself next to her with the second bag, trying not to think about how they could be zipped together. What kind of lowdown fuck-up would he have to be to take advantage of her now? He was about to zip her up when he noticed her hand was bruised and a little bloody from hitting the dash. He shuffled around looking for the first aid kit: he never needed it but sometimes the talent got a little banged up in transport. He found it and, careful of her skin, cleaned and bandaged her hand. The thought of touching her, letting her borrow his mutation, flitted across his mind and was summarily dismissed. Damn. Who knows what his brain would do to her already tenuous grasp on reality? He settled in, pushing his bag as far from hers as he could, to sleep.
Fuck! Nightmare. What? It's her. Logan awoke with a start and almost got a deadly fist in his face. The girl was thrashing in her sleep, guttural sounds escaping her mouth punctuated with the occasional "goddamn whores. Don't you look at me!" He grabbed her wrists, mindful of her skin, and held them together in one hand, pulling her close with the other. Not letting go of her struggling wrists, he held her tight and leaned in, stroking her back through the thick sleeping bag.
"Shhh," he whispered in her hair, all sweat and oranges and cheap shampoo, "it's okay. Just a nightmare. Hush." This seemed to calm her a bit and they slept again.
Logan dreamed he was in an orange grove, sun warming his head, a breeze ruffling his hair. He sat on the grass and closed his eyes, feeling the breeze and sun, breathing in the oranges and fresh cut grass, listening to the birds in the distance.
"Hey." He heard a voice, thick and sweet like fudge, and the birds flew en masse from the nearby tree.
"Hey, fuckhead." The voice was louder and he opened his eyes. Rogue sat watching him sleep in the cold gray trailer.
"You okay?" he asked.
"What's it to you?" she said. "I'm hungry and I have to pee."
"Won't get much to eat till the next town," he said, "as for the other--be my guest." He gestured out the camper door to the wilderness outside. She looked at him, questioning. "Go on," he said. "I know you aren't a princess. Just do it in the woods like the rest of us." Still she sat unmoving, quizzical eyes on his. Her hand reached unconsciously to her neck where the red chafe mark of the collar was beginning to heal. "Shit, Rogue," he said, understanding at last. "Where the hell would you run to? You don't know where you are and I'd find you in a second if you tried. I'm not worried about you running."
"Fuck you," she said, getting up and exiting the camper. Logan chuckled. She seemed okay now.
They drove another hour or so before pulling into a truck stop for breakfast. She grabbed some gloves from her bag but couldn't fit one over her bandaged hand.
"You did this?" she asked. Logan nodded. "You could've touched me," she said. "Don't be a fucking idiot." Logan laughed. Rogue looked pissed. "What?" she said. "What's so fucking funny? You could've died and I'd be stuck with whatever the fuck it is you've got that passes for a brain." Logan kept laughing.
"I was just thinkin'," he said, "you should buy stock in the letters f - u -c and - k." Her eyes narrowed but she didn't snap back at him. Probably couldn't think of an insult that didn't have "fuck" in it, he thought, chuckling.
They went into the truck stop and ordered breakfast. Rogue ordered pancakes, eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and toast with coffee and orange juice, her expression defying Logan to protest. She put her bare hands under the table every time the waitress passed by. After she'd eaten her fill (which was almost everything), she ate the two orange slices that had garnished her pancakes. Logan watched her full mouth bite the fruit, her tongue dart out to catch the juice.
"You like oranges," he asked, surprised when it sounded choked. She looked at him cautiously.
"So?" The single word was defensive, angry, and confused all at once.
"Hey, kid, not every question is about tryin' to put one over you," he said.
"Look, mister," she began.
"Why don't you call me by name?" She snapped her eyes to his.
"Maybe because you haven't told it to me yet," she said. Damn. With all the excitement yesterday he hadn't told her his name. He thought for half a second about giving her his code name before deciding he wanted her to know the only name he called his own.
"It's Logan," he said gruffly.
"Logan," she said hesitantly. "Logan." He knew he'd made the right decision hearing his name from her lips. He'd never told his real name to the talent before. Just a brief "you can call me Wolverine," was about all they usually rated.
"Where are we going, Logan?" she asked.
"I told you," he said. "I'm taking you to see the old man. You can decide what to do from there."
"You're taking me to see your father?" Logan choked on his coffee.
"Hell, he isn't my father," he said dryly. "He's just old." I could be older than he is, he thought.
"And he'd not gonna..." she lowered her head. "He won't..."
"He won't," Logan said. "At least he never has before." He shifted uncomfortably in the booth. She looked at him.
"You don't like him much, do you," she said. He thought for a minute.
"He makes me... uneasy sometimes," he said. "He's a mutant too--a real powerful one. I don't like what he could do to me if he ever put his mind to it." She took that in for a moment, wrinkling her nose. Even her nose crinkle was cute, he thought.
"Thanks," she said.
"What for?"
"For telling me what you thought of him," she said. "For not trying to tell me he was the answer to all my prayers."
The waitress appeared behind Rogue with the check, startling the girl. She snatched her hands away quickly, spilling the last few drops of her orange juice. The waitress looked at her intently.
"You all right, sugar?" she said. Rogue looked up at her, her eyes wild.
"Goddamn whore," she muttered, "what are you lookin' at?" The waitress looked startled. Logan stood and motioned for Rogue to do the same.
"The check will be fine," he said. "We're leaving now."
Rogue stood and before he could stop her she reached out to the waitress, index finger extended. She ran her finger down the waitress's bare arm. The waitress fell to the floor in a dead faint. Logan gripped Rogue to his side and dropped a handful of bills on the table. He steered her out of the truck stop. She was giggling and grinning and trying to run her hands over his back.
"Ooh, my sweet sugar pie," she said breathlessly. "What you _do_ to me! Mmm... sugar, sweetie, babydoll... let me kiss it, honey!" She laughed. "Give me some sugar, sugar!"
Logan stopped at the passenger door and shook her hard by the shoulders.
"Rogue!" he said firmly. "I know you're in there, get it together!" He shook her once more and shoved her into the cab. When he got in the driver's side she was quiet and her shoulders were hunched tightly.
He started the engine and almost missed it. Her soft admission.
"Mree," she said.
"What?"
"Marie. It's my name."
Logan dreamed. He sat on the fresh green--greener than any he'd seen in nature--grass and looked out at tree after tree, laden with oranges. The breeze carried the sweet scent and warmth to his face. He felt like he could stay there, in the evening sun, listening to the birds and insects sing and chirp forever. Marie would like it here, he thought. Marie. Marie. He'd been saying her name over and over since she told him. It was a secret treasure she had entrusted to him. Marie.
"What?" Marie's sleep heavy voice woke him. He opened his eyes halfway. It was still dark out. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her bag closer to his.
"Nothing," he said. "Go back to sleep."
"Mmmm."
Logan woke with a start. Something--someone was outside. "Marie," he said quietly. She woke and sat up instantly. They heard a rustle and snap and muffled laughter. Logan held up three fingers--Marie nodded. Three of them out there. He crouched on the floor of the camper, his knuckles itching. Marie stood and slipped her boots on. He gestured for her to sit tight. She flipped him off. Outside they heard a hissed stage whisper:
"Mutie freaks." Logan stood and made to open the door when they heard a loud thud from the front of the truck. Marie jumped and made an undignified squeak before she clapped her hands over her mouth. Logan moved swiftly. He opened the camper door and jumped out, senses on alert. Two young men--22, 23, drunk--and some kind of mutant on a chain--large, teeth bared, yellow eyes, utterly feral-- crouched on the hood of the camper.
"Whaddya think you're doin', bub?" he asked, looking at the nearest man.
"Shit, Jake, we woke one of 'em up!"
"Shut up," said the nearest, "and don't say my name, damnit!" The nearest man--Jake--looked at Logan, hate and disgust burning behind his eyes. "We got word there's a coupla rogue muties headed this way. Seen any?"
"Why would I give a shit about coupla un-regs?" Jake paused as if considering Logan's question.
"You got anyone else in there?" he said. "We got word they're traveling in a truck like this..."
"There's a lotta trucks like this," Logan said. "Maybe you should head on out of here. I wouldn't wanna have a hunting accident, y'know?"
"Come on," said the second man. "We should be getting back. This is a bust, okay?" Jake squinted.
"I don't know," he said. "I think Rover here smelled us out our muties. I think this is the truck we're lookin' for. I think we're gonna have our barbecue after all." Logan growled, low and deep.
Within the span of a few seconds the chained mutant leapt from the hood of the truck. Logan swung around, claws out, and sliced Jake across the chest. In the next second, Logan caught the mutant as it was about to land on his head with three claws right through the chin. They toppled to the ground together. Logan rolled the mutant off and jumped to his feet. He couldn't see the second man, but he could smell him. Close. Jake lay on the ground, small whimpers escaping his mouth. The scent of his blood and that of the feral mutant were almost enough to block out other scents. He heard Marie gasp and everything went red.
Logan would be hard pressed to say exactly what happened. The Wolverine knew, though. The man was at the trailer door--that much he knew--and Marie was scared. She was gonna touch him, drain him, and that scared her almost as much as what the man wanted to do to her. Wolverine growled, panting heavily. Marie was in the door, looking pissed off, reaching up to the man's face. Wolverine came up behind him and silently jabbed the claws through the man's lower back, twisted and pushed till the man fell to the ground, no longer a threat. Marie stood looking at him in surprise, her mouth open in a perfect "O." She dropped her hand and looked at her stomach. Three thin cuts were beginning to bleed. He'd cut her through the man.
"Marie! Oh, fuck. Marie!" Logan retracted the claws instantly and grabbed for her.
"It's not bad," she said hoarsely.
"Let me see."
"Fuck you," she whispered, with a small smile. Logan lifted her back into the trailer. Her shirt was soaked in blood now. He used a claw to slice it down the middle and pulled it off. Marie looked up at his sharp intake of breath. In addition to the bleeding cuts, there was a large purple bruise--probably a cracked rib from the fall in the tent--running down one side of her body, a few small scars, and what looked distinctly like fresh burns in the shape of a cigarette tip. Logan thought for a minute before he knew what to do.
"Marie," he said, "I'm gonna touch you."
"No! What good would that do?"
"I can heal; it's my mutation. You need it."
"No. You could die. You can't die and leave me here. If you die I'll fucking hate you!"
"I thought you already did," he said smiling. "You goin' soft on me?"
"Fuck you."
"That's my girl," he said. "Now, I'm going to do this and you can't stop me--so why don't you tell me what I can do to make it easier, eh? How long before it starts working?"
"It depends. Usually just a couple of seconds," she said, pausing a moment. "And... I get thoughts and memories and stuff, too. Maybe you could try to think happy thoughts?" She laughed weakly as she said that.
"Okay. Couple of seconds and happy thoughts," Logan said, thinking. Happy thoughts? What the fuck kind of happy thoughts could he think? Marie was a happy thought, but the last thing he wanted was to give her a nice dose of Wolverine-lust pointed in her direction. He closed his eyes and thought of winter. Once he woken early after a snowfall, and he'd looked out the trailer door at the forest, blanketed in new snow, snow so fresh that no animal had marked it yet. He didn't want to leave the trailer and be the first to leave prints in the smooth shining surface. He had sat in the door, watching the clean whiteness for a long time. Logan thought of that morning and touched his fingertips to Marie's stomach.
It felt like getting the breath knocked out of you, he thought, only it wasn't your breath: it was you life. He felt... drained. It was the only way to put it. Marie shuddered and drew in a large breath. Her eyes met his and for a second it was like looking into a mirror. Then he passed out.
There was no dream. Logan drifted in darkness, the scent of blood and oranges swirling in his mind. He felt like he was moving, but he didn't know where. He heard a noise like bees and he thought of the orange grove. He smelled metal and gasoline and thought of the lab. Then he smelled Marie and knew everything was all right. He opened his eyes. Daylight assaulted him.
"Please, please, pleasepleaseplease," he heard Marie's whispers like buzzing bees. He was in the cab of the truck, she was at the wheel, wearing one of his shirts. They were moving.
"Worried about me, darlin'?" he said, the words strangling in his throat. Marie shot a glance at him and slammed on the brakes with both feet. Logan jerked forward, stopped by his seatbelt. Shit, he didn't even know this thing had seatbelts.
"Goddamn it, don't you ever do anything like that again," she said, turning the engine off. "You try it and I'll drop you, bub!"
"Uh..."
"You had no right, got that? No fucking right. I decide who gets to bounce around in my brain. Me. Not you. You could have died, damn it!"
"Marie--"
"And where do you get off, thinking those things about me?" Damn. What things? "You don't know me, _darlin'_. I'm not a nice girl. I'm not cute, or sweet, or fucking _clean_," she said, scoffing. "Did you forget how we met? Jesus, you're a fucking idiot."
"It's not gonna work," he said, sitting up straight.
"What?"
"I'm not gonna get pissed at you and dump you by the road." She was quiet for a moment after that.
"Why don't you tell me which way to drive," she finally said. "I don't know where the hell we're going."
"We're going to cross into Canada," he said. "Then work our way over. It's better there."
"A couple of un-regs are just going to cross the border? How's that going to work?"
"Like clockwork, Marie darlin'," he said, smiling. "I'm a Canadian citizen. You're gonna be one too, in a couple days."
She glanced at him out the side of her eyes and started the engine. "So why are we going up the coast highway? I-5 is much faster."
"Yeah, and it's got a lot more staties just waiting to bag a few mutants," he said. "There's a safe house just outside of Seattle we're going to hole up in for a bit. Switch vehicles. Get you a passport. Let things die down a bit before we cross."
Marie nodded her head. "Okay." They drove without talking for an hour or two.
Logan drifted in and out of sleep, listening to Marie breathing. He woke when he felt the truck stop. Marie was hopping out of the driver's seat.
"Where are we?"
"Oregon," she said. "Just look." She was walking across the road to the edge of the two-lane highway. The truck was parked off the highway; on the east side large evergreens towered over them. On the west side, Marie was standing on the edge of the road looking down a steep cliff at the ocean. It was windy, and the beach below was wild and battered by waves. The scent of salt and wet pine surrounded them. Without knowing really why, Logan walked over to her. The wire didn't burn so much when he was near her. He rested his arm around her shoulders. It didn't burn at all when he touched her. She stared straight ahead, looking at the ocean, not looking at him, and he felt her arm creep slowly around his waist. It was like that morning in the fresh snow; he didn't want to move or even breathe for fear of disturbing the moment.
A car passed and Marie stiffened and dropped her arm from his waist. She turned and walked back to the truck, getting in on the passenger side. Logan got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Marie was looking at him with an odd expression.
"Will you tell me about Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier?" she said.
Logan coughed. "What?"
She touched her head. "You think about them a lot. Is one of them the man you're taking me to?"
He nodded. "Yeah, one of them." He scratched his nose. "I do work for both of them sometimes. They used to, uh, work together but now... they don't."
"Why?"
"They had some kind of argument about how to fight for mutant recognition. Xavier wants to start on the sly, using mutants who can pass for human to infiltrate and assimilate into mainstream society. Lensherr wants to use force."
"Which one are you taking me to?"
Logan thought for a minute. "I... I don't know." He paused--he really didn't know. He'd been planning to take her to Erik; Magneto wanted someone with a mutation like hers, bad. But the Professor would probably be nicer to her. Since his contact to Magneto was also in New York he'd decided to put off making the decision till later. Suddenly he didn't want to take her to either of them. He knew they could protect her, if they wanted. He also knew that he could protect her--more than that, he knew he _wanted_ to protect her. If she'd let him. Would taking her to one of the old men really do her any good? He could use the money, but... God. He was gettin' soft. That's all there was to it. Soft like a jelly doughnut. Fuck that. No pretty-smelling gir-- woma-- femal-- goddamn _talent_ was gonna come between the Wolverine and his way of life. Besides, they'd take care of her. She was powerful and valuable. He was doin' her a favor. He was bein' nice. Yeah, nice.
"You don't know? You mean you just wander the country picking up sideshow mutants and one of these men will take them off your hands, no questions asked?"
"Pretty much." He suddenly didn't feel so nice. "I have standing agreements with both of them. They want powerful talent to join their cause. I wasn't lyin' when I said you'd be better off than you were in the show."
Marie scowled. "So you're going to sell me off to be either a soldier or a spy, and that's better than the show how?" Logan was silent. He wasn't even in the same room with nice.
"We're gonna head over to Portland and switch vehicles," he said. "Then head up past Seattle to the safe house. We'll pick up some clothes and stuff for you on the way."
Marie nodded shortly. Subject dropped. Her hand went to her neck and rubbed gently where her collar had rested. Shit. Nice was in another galaxy.
They got into Portland and switched the camper for a old IH Scout at a mutant-friendly (read: one that would take mutant money) garage. Logan grabbed a couple sandwiches at a deli and shoved one at Marie. She hadn't said a word since their talk about the old men. She didn't seem mad, merely resigned. Logan would've preferred mad. They drove up I-5 towards Seattle. They hit the city limits at sunset.
"What'd it feel like?" Marie still didn't look at him but her question was firm and clear.
"What?"
"When you touched me. What'd it feel like?" She glanced at him. "No one's ever touched me that wasn't scared out of their minds. Or completely surprised. No one ever did it... on purpose like that."
"Hmph. It was like... it tingled at first, and then it was like exhaling everything, pushing everything into you. Through my fingers."
"Did it hurt?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"No."
"Oh. Good."
"What about you? What's it feel like?"
"With you or with everyone else?" Logan looked at her. She was blushing slightly. "Uh, you were different," she said lamely. Logan grinned involuntarily.
"With both," he said.
"It... it depends whether they're expecting it or if it's a surprise," she started. "When it's unexpected I get all these jumbled thoughts and feelings and it's all so confusing. If-- if they died," she whispered, "they're with me forever. They never fade, and it's like they're confused forever. Like they don't know they're dead and they don't know why they see me when they look in the mirror."
She blinked as if willing herself not to cry. "If they know it's coming it... it's worse. They know what I can do and I terrify them. I see myself through their eyes and I'm a monster. I get terror primarily. The terror they feel from me, and memories of things that terrified them before. Like Lorelai," she said, her voice breaking. "Her real name is Ann, y'know. She just felt so scared and sad and guilty, like she thought she deserved what Jimmy wanted to do to her. I think she wanted to die. She had this memory of when her mutation manifested in Sunday school and that was all mixed in with her fear of Jimmy and her fear of me."
Marie was silent for a moment before continuing. "It always stirs up the others when I touch someone new."
"The others?" he asked.
"The permanent residents," she said dryly. "The ones that, um, died." He wondered how many there were and was about to ask when she continued. "Five. Five permanent residents," she said. "They don't like it when there's a new arrival. It sometimes takes me a long time to get everyone back in line."
She shifted in her seat. "Not with you though. It was easier to calm everything down after you touched me," she said, looking out the window. "You like to take charge and you've intimidated all the others into their hidey-holes. And... and the touch was different too. Usually I feel the tingle and then it's this big rush, like trying to take a drink of water from a fire hose. It hurts, usually. This time, I felt the tingle and then it was like this warm feeling filling me. You had a nice calm thought in your head and that alone was different. Then I felt the pain and you passed out."
She looked at him. He was grinning. "That doesn't mean you get to be smug about it," she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "It was still a fucking stupid thing to do."
They pulled into the driveway of the safe house. Marie expressed surprise. "But it's just a regular house!" Logan laughed.
"What'd you expect-- secret passages and underground lairs? It belongs to a mixed couple, the wife's a mutant, who live in Europe most of the time and they let others use it on their way out of the country."
Inside the house was even more ordinary. A sparely furnished small kitchen, living room, and two small bedrooms with a bathroom in between. The garage was attached and covered, which made concealing the Scout easy. They dropped their few belongings on the floor.
"Want the shower first?" Logan asked. Marie shook her head.
"You go. I'm going to be in there till kingdom come," she said.
Logan showered quickly. He was rinsing off when the voice filled his head.
Wolverine
Shit. The Professor.
Wolverine, it has come to my attention that you have a most interesting new find
What's it to you? Logan thought. And I thought I told you to stay out of my brain
Ah, but these are desperate times, Wolverine
The Professor always called him Wolverine, although Logan was pretty sure he knew his name. He was waiting to be invited to use it, though. It was one of the things that made him seem a little nicer than Magneto. A little.
Cyclops has left us
What took him so long? Logan wasn't surprised. Scott couldn't pass for human with those glasses he wore and he'd been getting more and more frustrated with the limitations of the mansion.
Jean is quite distressed
Jeannie stuck around? That did surprise him. He pegged her to follow her man to the ends of the earth.
I fear we may lose her eventually. Perhaps if you returned...
Bringin' my 'most interesting new find' with me, no doubt?
If you choose
I'll think about it Logan shut the water off. And no more telepathy or I take her straight to Mags, got it?
Clearly
"Goddamn telepaths," Logan said, grumbling as he toweled off and dressed. In the living room Marie was sitting stiffly on the sofa. She had moved their bags into the bedrooms. Hers in one, his in the other. Message received loud and clear, darlin'.
"Shower's all yours," he said.
She jumped up and walked to the bathroom, smiling. "Thank goodness, sugar! I was getting pretty ripe. I'm gonna stay in there till the water's freezing." She shut the door and he heard the water start running.
That smile. That damn smile. The one that tightened the wire. The one that made him think of taking on pain just to save her from feeling it. That smile was fifteen feet, a door, and a thin shower curtain away. That smile was currently attached to a wet and naked Marie. Fifteen feet, a door, and a thin shower curtain away.
He had to get out of there.
Scribbling 'M, gone to get supplies. back soon. -L' on a scrap of paper Logan bolted out the door and to the Scout, wet smiles plaguing his thoughts.
Why did supermarkets have to be so damn bright? And why did they have to play such fucking perky music?
Logan pushed the cart tossing items in the basket ferociously. It was ridiculous to be shopping for supplies in a supermarket. The alternative, waiting in the living room while Marie showered, was unthinkable. They'd need some jugs of water, batteries, matches... Her skin would be so soft and smooth. He could tell even when it was bruised and cut. Jerky. He should get more jerky. Her hair would be long and dark, plastered to her soft skin in wet tendrils as the water from the showerhead cascaded down her-- Juice? Would she like juice? Her mouth probably tasted like fruit juice. Toothbrush. She'd need a toothbrush and paste and shampoo and, uh, girl stuff. Girl stuff. Shit, he wasn't putting any of that crap in his cart. He wouldn't even know what kind to buy. There were about a million boxes and packages. She could get her own damn girl stuff. His eyes lit on a display of colorful little boxes right next to the girl stuff. Logan snagged a couple of them and got the hell out of that aisle. Never hurt to be prepared.
Picking up some stuff for dinner and swinging by the beer case for a half-rack he finally ended up in the produce aisle. He grabbed a bag of small oranges and went to check out.
Marie was sitting in a semi-lotus position on the sofa when he got back; she was wearing another of his shirts, so big on her she had the sleeves rolled up three times and the flannel tails reached almost to her knees, and a pair of thermal underwear she must have packed. Her hair was damp and sticking to her face a little. She had a bottle in one hand and her eyes were closed. She was still smiling that killer smile.
"This smelling and hearing thing of yours is incredible," she said, eyes still closed. He grunted and she opened her eyes. "I think I like this place," she said, offering him the bottle. He took it. Jack Daniels. "All the comforts of home."
He took a pull off the bottle and tasted her along with the alcohol. Handing it back he dropped the groceries on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room.
"Ooo," she said, giggling and twisting around on the sofa to face the kitchen. "Are you gonna cook?"
Logan grunted again and she turned back, bored. "I'm smelling the house," she said, taking a drink from the bottle. "Someone wears perfume." He sniffed. She was right.
He cracked open a beer and put the bag of oranges on the counter. Using a small knife he started to cut them into quarters.
"Shit." He was staring at the orange. It was bad. It had to be spoiled.
"What?" Marie asked, getting up from the sofa.
"Something's wrong with these oranges."
"You got oranges?" she said, walking over. The orange flesh was a dark, deep red. The juice on the knife and counter looked like...
"Oh. They're blood oranges," she said. "They're supposed to look like that. Try it--they're good." She took the knife and cut one of the halves in half and gave a piece to him. He watched as she bit the flesh from her piece, the red juice staining her lips, her tongue licking the corner of her mouth. She was standing right next to him. Her eyes looked at him, waiting.
"Marie..." he whispered. He leaned down and licked the tart juice from her lips fast, before her mutation kicked in. She gasped slightly but didn't pull away. Encouraged, he kissed her mouth, soft and swift. He could hear her heartbeat and her breathing quicken. Slowly he started to feather kisses in the corners of her mouth, lifting away before her skin noticed his presence. Her palms flattened against his chest, half pushing him away, half caressing him.
"Wha-- what do you think you're doing?" she said, trying to look angry.
"I think I'm kissing you."
"Oh."
Logan set his orange slice on the counter and slid a hand around her waist to the small of her back, pressing her against the length of his body. She was so soft and warm. He met her eyes; her pupils were dilated and unfocused. He kissed her again, this time for a second longer, licking her bottom lip before he broke contact. She opened her mouth and her tongue slipped out to touch his briefly. A growl rumbled low in his chest and he kissed her deep and full, running his tongue along the length of hers. He felt the tingle that signaled the onset of her mutation but didn't stop. She tasted like sweet-tart oranges and Jack Daniels.
Marie shoved hard against his chest. "No, stop!" True anger shone in her eyes now. "You really do have a death wish, don't you?" she yelled, rubbing her hand over her mouth. She dodged past him and ran to her bedroom, slamming the door. Logan slumped against the counter. Damn.
She didn't come out all night. Logan finished the bottle of JD and started on his half rack. After a while he shambled off to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
The dream hit hard and cold. Hot cutting pain and freezing liquid. Unheard screams from a shattered mind. Cruel laughter. Everything was gray; he didn't know if he was colorblind or if there just wasn't any color. Then the deep dark red of blood--his own blood. Every day his wrists bound, his legs bound, left immobile and helpless to wait for the pain to start. He heard his own screams and wondered what poor bastard they were torturing now. As each day passed the Man part of his brain conjured fantasy and phantasm as shields against its own decay, and the Animal part lay waiting. Waiting and cultivating its thirst for revenge. The Man's pain was fertile ground. It waited and watched for a sign--a loose strap, a distracted guard, any sign. The Man screamed and pulled at his bonds; his hands burned. Something soft touched his foot and shook it.
"...gan!" This was some new torture. The Animal was starting to hallucinate too. A woman--mate--sent to drive it insane and make it forget about revenge. That wasn't going to happen. Smooth fingers shook his bare foot again.
"Logan, you're having a nightmare! Wake up!" Won't believe it. Not real. Claws out--arms straining against the straps.
"Whoa!" Logan heard Marie's voice and woke abruptly. He was sitting up in bed, claws extended. She was holding on to his foot, hunched down on the floor at the end of the bed.
"Marie, what the fuck are you doing in here? I coulda clawed you..." Something wasn't right. There was some... difference.
"I-- you were having a nightmare. You yelled." She dropped his foot and sat on the side of the bed. "Was it where... they did those things to you?" He looked at her. She blushed and touched her head. "I don't have everything, just... little flashes."
"That's about as much as I have," he said gruffly.
She narrowed her eyes. "You don't remember?"
He shook his head no. She touched his head, stroking his hair twice. Something... her hand. His bare foot. Her bare hand. Touching. "Marie?"
"What?"
"Are you-- can you control it?"
Her eyes widened with fear. "No. No! It's uncontrollable." He could smell the ugly lie coming off her in waves.
"Marie--"
Her voice was small and broken. "Don't-- Please... please don't tell anyone. It's all I have. My only strength."
He thought for a minute. If she could control it her value would increase tenfold. No wonder she didn't want anyone to know. "How?"
"It doesn't always work," she said. "I have to concentrate for a long time and even then it might not work. It... it got a little easier after you touched me..." Her shoulders were hunched and her body looked like it wanted to turn in on itself. He ran his hand over her back and she jumped.
"I won't tell," he said.
She sniffed back tears and smiled. "Thanks."
He twisted so he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to her and pulled her close. "How long?" he asked.
"Mmhm?"
"How long do you have to concentrate before it works?" Whatever answer he was expecting he didn't expect the deep blush that flooded her face. Or the hot scent of desire that assaulted his nose. She looked away.
"A-- a... awhile," she whispered.
"Why were you in my room?" he asked again, holding his breath.
"I wanted... I just wanted to, uh, touch you a little," she said. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before. I didn't mean it. I didn't want you to be mad. I wante--mph." He cut her off by covering her mouth with a languid, lazy kiss, taking the time to savor the sweetness and heat of her.
The hot wire between them wrapped around his heart and his gut and bound him to her tightly. Her lips opened and her hands cradled his face. He reveled in the gentle pattern she traced on his cheeks. Inhaling sharply he drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked lightly. She murmured and nibbled his lip. Simultaneously they deepened the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he moved his hands to her waist, pushing her--his--shirt up to sweep her beautiful skin. He wanted to touch every inch of the pale expanse of her body. He ached for her. She licked and nipped his ear and brushed her hand lower grazing his stomach. God. He was going to die. He rolled her back on the bed and thrust his hard body against her yielding one. He had to feel her, taste her. "Marie," he breathed, moving his hand below the waistband of her thermal underwear. He groaned when he felt how wet and burning she was for him.
She caught his hand. She was panting. "Wait." He stilled immediately. "You're making me-- it's too much. I can't focus..."
He smiled. "That's kind of the point."
"No... If I lose focus I can't keep control of my skin. Just... Just let me touch you." She pulled his hand up and, meeting his eyes, licked his fingertips, tasting herself. He choked tightly at the erotic image and the feel of her mouth closing on his fingers, suckling them.
"But--" he started to say. This wasn't how he wanted it. Not this time.
All thoughts went fuzzy when she moved her ministrations to his torso, biting his nipples and kissing lower. Vaguely he thought this wasn't... Fuck! Her tongue lapped at the point where torso met thigh.
(It's all she has... her only strength...)
What was that? Why was he thinking about anything but Marie's mouth, which was about to be on his--
(She didn't want me to be mad. It's her only strength. Her only defense. She didn't want me to be mad.)
He gripped her by the shoulder and pulled her up to his side. "Marie, you don't have to do this. I'm not mad; I don't expect this..."
Her eyes were dark and her lips were swollen and wet. "I want to," she said.
Damn. He closed his eyes and tried to think of ice, snow, sleet, anything but her hot mouth saying those words. I want to... Damn.
"God, Marie, darlin'... I want you. You gotta know that. But... I don't want you to think you have to do it."
"I don't--"
He sighed. "Look. Your skin, it doesn't have to be your only strength. Tomorrow I'm gonna start teaching you some things--fighting things. And, uh, if me touchin' you helped you with getting control of your skin, maybe we should try it again."
She shook her head violently. "No."
"I'll be careful. I won't let anything happen."
Her expression was doubtful. "You-- you didn't stop. In the kitchen, when it started."
"I know. I'm sorry. You tasted so good and I couldn't believe you were kissin' me and wanting me."
"No one's ever worried about me wanting them," she whispered so quiet he barely heard it. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"I--" He didn't want to tell her about the wire that connected him to her. She might not understand. He didn't really understand. "I wanna take care of you," he said. "And part of that is makin' sure you can take care of yourself so that if we--when we have each other it's not 'cause you don't have any other options."
She looked at him, questions swirling behind her eyes. He could almost hear them. What about the Professor and Magneto? "Maybe we should stick around here a while longer," he said. "Work on this a while."
She nodded and rose to leave the room. "Okay."
"Wait," he said. "Maybe... you could hang out a bit? I-- I didn't have that nightmare when we were in the camper."
Smiling shyly she crawled back on to the bed next to him, wrapping herself in the top blanket. "Be careful," she said. "It flips back on when I'm asleep."
He pulled her close and breathed in the lingering scent of her desire. Damn. He really was a fucking idiot.
His dreams were filled with sweet scents and warm breezes.
"Remember, hard and fast. Keep your hands close until you're ready to strike; don't let 'em see it coming. You got two things on your side when you're fighting someone bigger than you are. First: surprise--never let 'em know what you got in you until it's too late. Second: your size--it might mean you're faster and harder to catch. Don't rely on it though."
Marie nodded. "Hard and fast and surprise 'em. I still don't see how someone like me could stand a chance against someone--"
"--like me?" She averted her eyes. "Remember, darlin', it ain't fighting dirty when the other guy's bigger and meaner than you are. You hit 'em with whatever you got, wherever you can. The last resort is your skin; only use it when there isn't any other option, okay?"
"Okay."
Logan was surprised by how quickly Marie was picking up the maneuvers he was teaching her. She had a natural grace and could pack a punch. She probably had some kind of sense memory from him and the others she'd touched, but it was her who had to make it all come together and work. They had fallen into a routine over the week: fighting practice in the morning, in the afternoon Logan went out and did what he had to in order for them to cross the border, and touching practice in the evening. Marie always tried to weasel out of touching practice.
Sometimes they watched television and drank beer; they stopped that after they saw a reality show featuring mutants pitted against each other in a ring, humans shouting and screaming for blood. Now they would sit and listen to music on the radio. He like it because Marie would sometimes curl up on the sofa and lay her head on his shoulder. They would sit and listen to the music and their own breathing.
She didn't move her things into Logan's room, but each night she silently joined him in his bed. Logan couldn't recall when (or if) he'd ever slept so well. They hadn't gone beyond occasional small, chaste kisses since the first night they arrived at the house.
Marie was getting better at touching. She could flip her skin off in five minutes now, where it had taken a half an hour a week before. Keeping it off was still a problem. Logan touched her and let her absorb a little of him three times; she wouldn't let him do more than that.
He was different than the others, she told him, but that didn't make it okay. She said she hated hurting him. He didn't think anyone had ever felt like that about him, and it made his throat tight and his chest ache.
"I'm like an Amazon tree frog," she said once, shortly after they started fighting practice. "I haven't got any armor or claws or sharp teeth, but oh, boy, try to eat me and you better watch out!"
Logan laughed. "Tree frog, huh? That's rich. Wolverine and his trusty sidekick Tree Frog... heh."
Marie frowned. "Who says I have to be the sidekick?"
He liked it when she joked and teased. When she was swearing up a storm, that meant she was on the defensive. When she was quiet, that meant she was either pissed off or sad. When she was joking and teasing, he thought maybe that meant she was happy.
"Some superduo we'd make, huh?" she continued. "I bet Superman wouldn't have been nearly as popular if he'd had life sucking skin and scary claws along with x-ray vision and the ability to fly."
"Superman ain't real," he said. "If he was, he'da been locked up before he could stop his first bullet. People would pay good money for a mutie like him."
She'd been real quiet after that for a while. As they got into bed, later, she snuggled close to him. "Superman wasn't a mutant," she said. "He was an alien from the planet Krypton."
A few days after that he brought her something from the drugstore.
"What's that for?" she asked.
"That white in your hair. It's too noticeable."
She looked worried. "I have to dye it?"
"It says it washes out after three weeks." He wondered what was so special about the streaks. They were completely white; they almost looked like someone had just erased the color from a portion of her hair.
"Okay," she said, reluctantly, touching her hair. "I just-- I've had it forever. I can hardly remember what it was like before."
"How'd it happen?"
"Question-game time, huh?" This was Marie's term for the slightly uneasy trading back and forth of questions they had fallen into every evening, each one raising the stakes--more difficult and personal than the last. Neither would back down or call the other's bluff.
Logan grunted. "Yeah."
Marie was quiet for a long time. "It happened after my mutation manifested," she said dully. "My folks acted like they didn't even know me; they acted like I was the creature from the Black Lagoon or something. I--I almost killed my boyfriend." She sat down on the sofa. "I shouldn't even call him my boyfriend, we'd just started going out. He was my first... my first kiss, and it nearly killed him." Logan touched her back softly. "My daddy wanted to kick me out flat. Mama thought I should be locked away where I couldn't hurt anyone else. They both agreed they didn't want me to register and have to list them as my parents." She paused and shivered. "They sent me to an institution. The doctor in charge wrote down that I'd been admitted for a breakdown, in exchange for my parents letting him do whatever he wanted with me. He made that agreement with a few other parents, too."
Logan pulled her close and ran his fingers through her hair.
"The doctor was the first person I murdered," she went on. "I killed him in cold blood. This was before I knew he'd stay with me forever if I did. I would've let go sooner if I'd known that."
"I bet he deserved it," Logan said.
She started to nod and stopped herself short. "Does anyone deserve that? To just be-- erased from the earth? Who am I to say, 'sorry, your time's up'?"
"What happened with the doctor, Marie? What does this have to do with your hair?"
"He thought he was working to save mankind," she said. "Save it from extinction at the hands of killer mutants like me. He also was the first one who wanted to fuck Death." Logan grasped the arm of the sofa tightly, but kept his touch on Marie's head soft and light. "That's what they called me in the institution--Death. All the others could be manipulated or forced in some way, but not me. 'You'd have to be crazy to try it with her,' the orderlies said. Doctor Meade-- he wanted to try it."
She paused and turned her head to bury it against Logan's chest. Her words were muffled and he felt her breath, hot on his skin, as she spoke. "I think he always wanted to, but at first he pretended all he wanted was to contain me; to neuter my mutation so I didn't present a danger to society. He tried with drugs, and EST--shock treatment--but they didn't work. Then he started talking about 'more radical methods,' which meant a lobotomy and a permanent padded room. He wanted to fuck me before he turned me into a vegetable," she said, laughing hard and choked. "That was his mistake."
"The biggest mistake he made was in telling me what he wanted before he did it," she continued. "He wanted me to dress appropriately; he gave me a catsuit thing and some gloves. When he came to me I was ready. He had a taser to keep me down--he didn't use drugs because he wanted me aware. I laid down on my cot like he told me and let him fuck me. I was a virgin; I had to bite my cheek to keep from crying."
Logan growled fiercely. He wanted something to kill, now. "When he finished I made my move," Marie said. "The whole time he was doing it, it was like a part of me had stepped outside my body and just kept saying 'as soon as this is over, we'll go ahead.' Then he, uh, came and he closed his eyes for a second, let his guard down. I lifted my head and touched his face with mine. I bit his lip to keep him from pulling away. He tried anyway and I ripped his mouth with my teeth; he bled all over my face. When he collapsed I took my gloves off and grabbed him. I held on for fifteen minutes. Then I put on his coat and walked out of the institution. I had all the codes to all the doors from his brain and the keys to his car were in his coat pocket."
She shifted a little on the sofa. "I found out about the hair later on. I lived on the street for a while and... they had cut it all off at the institution. I-- I didn't like looking in mirrors. They didn't let me have one, so I'm not sure if it happened that night or not. I think it did."
Something that could have been tears burned in Logan's eyes. He didn't know how to respond, how to help her or make the awful sick feeling in his heart go away. Hating himself, he asked her what he wanted to know. Maybe if she talked about it... no. He was just a scumbag who wanted to know all the gory details.
"Tell me about the others?"
Wiping her eyes violently, Marie sat up and coughed. "The ones who fucked me, or the ones I killed?"
Jesus. "Both."
"You're going to owe me three questions," she said dryly. "There's a lot of stuff bouncing around in my head I'm pretty curious about."
"Sure. Three questions."
She smiled. "Okay... I-- well, in a way I guess I was luckier than some girls. The skin kept most people away. Including the good doctor I've been fucked by fewer people than I've killed. Four--two died, one went into a coma, and one was a friend. I liked him; he survived it. Luna had 'private shows' every other night; at least the skin saved me from that..."
Sniffling and laughing a little to cover her sniffles, she squared her body and confronted him straight on. "Are you sure you want to know this? You might not think I'm so charming and irresistible after--"
"Darlin', that's somethin' you don't ever have to worry about. You already know I've got some bad skeletons..."
Marie thought. "Logan, before I say anything more... I need to use one of my three questions." She waited for him to nod. "Where are you taking me when we leave?"
Without really knowing what he would say, he just said what he felt in his gut. "I thought you might wanna stick with me, for a while... I can get you into Canada, and then, you can go wherever you want. Fuck, you can go back to the show if that's what you want."
"But I could stay with you? You'd... be okay with that?"
Hell yeah. "Yep."
"All right. I think I'd like that... You can change your mind after you know what I've done, I won't blame you."
Taking a cue from her willingness to stick with him that little intimacies were acceptable, he cupped her face and kissed her lightly, but hardly chastely, on the lips. "I'm not going anywhere," he said.
Marie sighed. "Hmm... right. Number one was the good doctor--first fuck, first murder." Her voice was cold and low. "After I escaped from the institution I-- I guess I was naive. I didn't know how to survive on my own; I was sixteen. I started north, figuring people wouldn't look at me weird for wearing long sleeved shirts up there. I hooked up with a man--he was like a sort of pimp for mutants, y'know? He'd hire out our mutations and in exchange he'd protect us from the reg-cops. My mutation was useful to folks who wanted to 'extract information' from people. I killed the first two I worked on because I couldn't gauge when to let go. There was another mutant working for the pimp--a thief and a cutthroat. He was my only friend for two years. He... it wasn't this grand passion or anything like that. We just needed something that wasn't about killing and torturing; we needed each other then. He showed me it didn't have to be about pain and death, that it could be about comfort."
She smiled a little at the memory. "But Antoine--the pimp--got the idea that he could be with me too, if R--, uh, my friend could. He got jealous and crazy. He turned my friend into the authorities and they shipped him off to a registration farm. Antoine came after me then and I made up my mind I'd hurt him. I told myself I'd only hold on enough to put him in a coma, but he was so heavy... I couldn't get him off me. He died and slipped into my brain and I lay there with his heavy body on top of me, getting colder."
Shuddering, she leaned against Logan and pulled his arm around her. "Eventually I rolled him off me and split. Sid picked me up a little after that. You know he's a mutant, right?"
Logan stared. He hadn't known. Marie continued. "He can sense other mutants. It's a pretty mild mutation, so he can pass anything but a DNA scan... All the time I was with the show, you were only the second person who asked for me--I was smart with the other one, I let go before he died. Sid dropped him by the side of the road when we packed up."
Shifting slightly to stretch her arms out, Marie yawned. "The last person I killed was the flash act in the show before I got there. He wasn't a mutant, but he did a fire act that was-- well, it was amazing. He knew all this stuff about meditation and using the mind to control the body; he was also dying. Cancer--inoperable. It was an accident. I think his system was so weak that it only took a small touch, an accidental brush when we passed in the tent. After-- I started practicing some of the things he did and got so I could control my skin a little..."
She laughed shortly. "Every cloud has a silver lining, huh? I kill one of my only friends and I get to touch y--, um, people."
Standing to get ready for bed, Marie touched Logan's forehead softly. "Some sordid tale, huh? I almost wish I had amnesia like you."
Logan stood and gathered her close. "You don't wish that," he said. "Believe me."
"Don't forget, I have two questions coming," she said walking to the bedroom.
Two days after Logan gave Marie the hair dye, she still hadn't asked her two questions. She seemed more quiet and shy since she'd told him about her experiences. They practiced fighting and touching--she had it down to a minute to turn off; she still didn't think she could keep it off without focused concentration. Logan had doubts about that.
"Here, you're officially a Canadian citizen."
Marie opened the red passport booklet he tossed her. "You couldn't have taken a better picture?"
"I'm sure you coulda done better," he said with a slight growl.
"I might could, sugar..." she said, drawling, halting abruptly when she noticed the name he'd given her. "Marie Logan?"
"Hmph."
She grinned. "So... am I your sister?"
This got a low growl. She stepped closer. "Hmm... could I be your daughter?"
A louder growl. One step closer. "I know... your granddaughter!"
He rubbed his knuckles and growled, "damn it, Marie." Granddaughter--fuck! She closed the gap between them swiftly and, before he registered her intent, she'd dropped him to the floor with the foot sweep he'd shown her a few days ago.
Straddling his chest she leaned close. "Maybe I'm your... wife?"
Rising to a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her waist, and burying his face against her neck, Logan growled again--deep and rumbling--this time his reaction to her words was immediate and primal.
She grasped his face with both hands and brought her mouth to within an inch of his. "Hard, fast, and surprise 'em, right?" she breathed, touching her lips softly against his chin, working her way around his face. "Hit 'em with whatever I've got..." she kissed him gently everywhere but his lips. "It's not fighting dirty when the other guy's bigger and meaner than I am--" she paused, her lips centimeters from his, breathing heavily.
Logan was almost painfully aware of her weight as she straddled his lap; her soft warm parts separated from his by a few layers of cloth. "Logan," Marie whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke. "I think I'd like to practice keeping my skin under control..." She punctuated her words by slowly twisting her pelvis against his and deepening her teasing kiss to a passionate one. Scratch 'almost'--this _was_ painful.
Cupping her bottom and standing, he carried her--legs and arms wrapped around him--to the bedroom. He set her down on the edge of the bed, her legs still embracing him, unwilling to break contact for even a moment. "Are you sure?" he asked, thickly.
"Mmmm..." she slipped her hand under his shirt and ran her fingers over his stomach. "Logan... when a perfectly sober lady says she wants to fuck you, it's not polite to protest."
Chuckling in spite of himself, Logan tugged her shirt up and pulled it over her head. "Thank God, darlin'. I was about to burst from wantin' you."
She smiled and pulled his shirt up and off. Glancing at the dogtags, a brief flash of confusion crossed her eyes; then, almost like she'd consulted some reference source, she nodded and touched them gently. Her fingers stayed on his chest, caressing his skin, as she leaned close for a kiss. "Tell me about it."
"Whaddya wanna know?" he said, unhooking her bra and dropping it to the floor. "How much I've thought about doing this?" he whispered, covering her breasts with his hands. "Or this?" he said, lowering his mouth to her nipple and biting softly. She moaned. "Or hearing you make those sounds?" he continued, biting slowly up to her collarbone.
"Wait a sec, sugar," Marie said breathlessly. Logan groaned. She kissed him deeply, sucking his tongue from his mouth and scratching her nails across his back. "Just a sec, I promise," she said, unwrapping her legs from around his waist and turning, on her hands and knees, to face the head of the bed. "I just need to find..." she said, rummaging in the drawer of the sidetable. Logan, faced with distracting image of Marie's rear end, took a moment to comprehend what she was saying. What did she want?
He reached around to her waist and unzipped her jeans. Tugging them down he groaned again at the sight of her lacy blue panties and the overwhelming scent of her desire. "Darlin', I've got..."
"Ah-ha!" Marie cried, sitting and facing him again. She kicked her jeans off and Logan was distracted once more by the endless expanse of her legs. What the hell did she find? "Not-- those," she said. "I _know_ you've got those... I need this." She opened her hand. That was _not_ what he thought it was. It couldn't be.
"A golf ball?"
Marie blushed--all the way to her toes. "It's not for anything, um, weird," she said. "It's something I thought of, to help me focus. I figure it's like driving--there's all these things we do to drive a car that become like second nature after a while. But we're still concentrating and focusing on driving, even if we don't really know it. I thought if I channeled the energy I need to keep my skin off into something like not dropping a golf ball, maybe I can let the other parts of my brain, um, go..." she said, blushing even deeper. "It could be anything that fits in my hand. It doesn't have to be-- if you think it's weird..."
"It ain't weird," he said. "If it's gonna help with you lettin' your, uh, brain go." He thought for a second. "How about this?" he asked, taking the tags off and handing them to her.
Her eyes widened. "But you never take those off."
"I'll know right where they are," he said, twisting the chain around her wrist and pressing the tags in her palm. "Now... where were we?"
"I think you need to be more naked," she said, grinning.
He met her grin. "Uh-uh. You first," he said, leaning to kiss her, hard. She opened her mouth fully to him; she tasted like honey, oranges, and mint toothpaste. It was ambrosia. Her tongue matched his rhythm and her nipples hardened against his chest. He thought he would die from the ache of wanting her. When he lowered his hand to her panties and found them wet, he groaned, biting her hard on the neck. She gasped and shuddered. Her fist was tight around his tags.
Turning her body on the bed so her legs dangled off the side, he slid down her body, kissing and licking every inch as he went, until he knelt by the side of the bed, between her legs. He pulled her panties off.
"Um.. what are y--" Marie began, gasping when he leaned close and breathed in the scent of her. "I-- No one's ever... I've never-- oh..." she panted the words until she felt his mouth on her; then words seemed beyond her capacity.
Logan savored the taste of her and the muffled noises she made--he thought he heard "Logan," "Love," and "Oh, my fucking God," amongst the gasps and moans. She tasted so good. He sped up his attention and she wrapped her legs around his head. When she shuddered and cried out, panting and shaking, he kissed his way back up her body to her mouth, where she met his and kissed him, tasting herself.
"Mmmmm..."
"Like that, eh?"
"Damn."
"Heh."
She opened her eyes and looked at the tags in her hand. There were deep red marks on her palm from where she'd squeezed them tightly. She met his gaze and smiled a crooked smile. "You. More naked, now."
"Happy to oblige," he said, slipping out of his jeans, grabbing a condom from the pocket before he threw them on the floor. They kissed, and Marie dropped her free hand to him, so smooth and soft, yet so hard and wanting. "Fuck," he said, pulling and twisting until she was under him and he was between her legs.
Suddenly she looked worried and nervous. "Um... do you think we could..." Blushing, she pushed on his shoulder until he rolled to his back. Of course. She didn't want to be reminded of the two men she'd killed in just that position. All the same, Logan wrinkled his brow unconsciously. He didn't like being flat on his back either--it made him feel less in control. But if it got him Marie...
"Sure," he said. She looked in his eyes and did that "consulting a reference source" gesture again; he knew she knew what his feelings were. He watched as she lowered her head to his chest and her body shook--was she crying? "Marie? What's wrong, baby? It doesn't matter--we can do it however you want, darlin'?"
She raised her head--she was laughing, not crying. "Oh, sugar, aren't we the sorriest couple of dysfunctional mutants you ever did see?"
He laughed and scanned the room quickly. "C'mere," he said, picking her up off the bed. Sitting in the straightbacked chair next to the small desk, he guided her to his lap. "Marie, baby, there's about a million different ways we can do this without... maybe after we get through 'em all we'll be ready to try it the old fashioned way, eh?"
"A million? Hmmm... I could see that..." She reached down and clasped him in her free hand. Bracing his feet on the floor, he opened the condom and put it on. She placed his hands on her waist and covered his mouth with hers; he moved her into place. For a moment, they froze, then Marie lowered herself on him, thrusting her tongue in his mouth as she did.
Tight, hot, and sweet. She rocked against him, guided by his hands on her hips. "God, baby..."
He bent her back to the desk and lowered his mouth to her breasts. Sucking first one, then the other, he made her nipples peak before he bit them in a soft rhythm that matched their larger rhythm. "Yes... yes," she breathed.
She braced herself with her free hand on the desk and thrust to him hard and fast. "Darlin', baby... Marie... don't stop, baby..."
"Logan... yes." He grabbed for the hand with his tags and laced his fingers with hers, the tags pressed between their palms. She straightened and wrapped her arm around his neck, kissing him wildly, feverishly. "I'm... Logan-- I'm going to-- oh, God!" She cast her head back, her face shining, and cried out his name. He pulled her close by her shoulder and pushed her down against his pelvis, hard, riding out her orgasm. Biting her neck, he thrust into her twice and his own release was so intense he yelled her name and bit down hard enough to break her skin. Ripples of pleasure shuddered through their bodies and he tasted her salty blood.
"Holy fuck," Marie said, collapsing against him.
"Yeah."
They reluctantly separated. Logan picked her up and carried her to the bed, kissing her face. Beads of sweat collected at her hairline.
"Can we just stay in this room forever? We do have 999,999 different ways to try..."
He kissed her again and traced his fingers over her stomach. "Fine by me."
She rested her head on his chest.
"Fuck, Marie!"
"What?"
"Your neck-- I... shit. I'm sorry. I bit you..."
"Hmmm... I noticed," she said.
"It's not-- you don't mind?"
"Well, you probably shouldn't do it _every time_," she said, grinning.
He looked serious. "Sometimes I can get a little... crazy. I don't want to hurt you."
"Sugar, you can get a lot crazy with me and I'll still-- I'll be okay with it. I'll be more than okay with it. You make me feel... different. Better. I want to know--to be with all of you, even this part," she said, touching his knuckles. "Even if it's only for a little while; if you decide this isn't for you, that's okay. I just want you--all of you--for now."
He hugged her close. "Not goin' anywhere." He wanted to say more, to tell her about the strange connection--the wire--he'd felt since he first saw her; he wanted to tell her of his dreams about the orange grove and ask her what she thought it meant. Instead, he held her and murmured her name in her hair.
The next morning they still hadn't left the bed--Marie gotten up to put her sleeping getup on, worried about her skin turning on as she slept, but that was about it. They were down to only 999,996 ways left as the sun peeked through the window.
He was counting her scars--apparently his healing factor couldn't heal her already scarred wounds--his legs intertwined with hers in the early morning sun, when she asked her second question.
"Tell me about the orange grove?"
"What?"
"It must be your dream," she said. "I've been having it since the first time you touched me..."
I, uh, I don't really--" he stopped. Something was coming. Something... familiar. "Shh," he said, getting out of bed and pulling his jeans on. Marie looked puzzled, but followed his lead, getting dressed.
"Here," she whispered, handing him the tags.
"You hang on to 'em for now," he said, kissing the bruises on her palm where she'd clutched them.
They both heard the sound on the porch--someone was there.
Logan walked to the door, motioning for Marie to stay hidden. She kept back, but didn't stay in the room. He curled his fists, ready for a fight, when the doorknob turned and the door pushed open.
"Oh, fuck," said Logan, staring at the unshaven man with the strange red glasses.
"Fuck, Scott, you look like shit," Logan said, holding the door open. He did look awful--his hair was dirty and it looked like he hadn't shaved in at least a week.
"Nice to see you, too, Logan," Scott said, entering the house, limping slightly. Pausing and turning before he pulled the door shut, he whistled shortly and said "come on." A very thin, bedraggled dog followed him into the house.
"Who's your friend?"
"Long story."
"Heard you'd ditched the mansion life."
"Yeah."
"Heard Jean stayed behind."
"Yeah."
"You mind telling us what the hell you're doing here?"
Scott looked around at that, noticing Marie for the first time. "I just... needed to do some thinking," he said. "I figured I'd catch up with you sooner or later. Didn't think it'd be so soon, though."
"Yeah, but what are you doing _here_, at this house?"
"Did you forget I'm the one who told _you_ about it in the first place?"
Logan grinned. "Oh, right... s'good to see ya, Summers."
Marie walked over to Logan tentatively. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "This is Scott. He's mostly okay."
"Hi." Marie gave a little wave instead of offering her hand.
"Don't listen to anything Edward Scissorhands here says about me," Scott said. "He's still upset from the last time I kicked his ass."
The skeptical look Marie gave Scott made Logan grin wider and puff his chest out. He and Scott stared at each other silently for a moment, then laughed simultaneously.
"It is good to see you," Logan said. "You want to tell me why you're acting like a dumbass by leaving the best thing that ever happened to your scrawny hide?"
Scott frowned. "Can I get cleaned up a little first?"
When Scott got out of the shower, Logan and Marie were in the small kitchen eating fruit and touching. Mostly touching. Logan lifted Marie on to the formica counter and rested his arm around her waist. She winced slightly at the movement and Logan was instantly attentive. "What's wrong? You all right?"
Marie blushed. "Just a little sore."
"Oh. Oh. Heh. You want to, uh, touch me?"
"No." She giggled. "This is one pain I kind of like, y'know?"
Scott cleared his throat. Obviously this was more than the usual talent transport. "Is there anything in this kitchen for my dog?"
Marie hopped down and dug up some jerky. "Come here... c'mere..." She coaxed the dog to her and gingerly fed him. The dog--your basic medium sized brown mutt--ate, shying away from her hand. "What's his name?"
"Charles," Scott said.
Logan coughed loudly. "Where'd you pick him up?"
"In Colorado. He-- some kids, teenagers, were stringing him up in a park."
Marie gasped. "Oh!"
"I got him down," Scott continued. "It would've taken too long to climb up to him so I had to use a blast. The kids ran off and for a while after that I had the reg-cops right on my ass."
"Only you could get the cops after ya for rescuing a dog," Logan said, snorting. He glanced at Marie. Shit. She was eating this up, lookin' at Summers like he was golden. "Want to tell me why you left your wife?"
"It's... complicated. I-- I just need to rest a little first, okay?"
Marie stood. "I'll clear my things out of the other room," she said.
Scott watched her walk away. "Guess we both have a thing for strays."
"Hmph."
"What was the cardinal rule you were always spouting back when we were working together? Something about not getting involved with the talent?"
"Tell me about Jean?" This was Marie's tactic. No confrontational 'what the fuck are you doing, dumbass?' just a simple, neutral, 'tell me about Erik and Charles,' or 'tell me about the orange grove dream.'
Scott sighed. "I left. I couldn't take it anymore--hiding in the mansion, protecting the illusion that we're all normal and unremarkable."
"You hooking up with Magneto?"
"No! God, why would you think that? He and the Professor--they're two sides of the same coin. I'm-- I don't know... I'm looking for a safe place. A place where we can have our baby in peace."
"Jeannie's pregnant? You left your pregnant wife? What the hell is going on, shit-for-brains?" So much for neutral questioning.
"She's about three months along. When we found out, I started thinking--we're two powerful mutants. What if our kids don't look as socially acceptable as Charles wants? I couldn't take the idea of raising our kids to hide behind the mansion walls. I thought about it for a long time before I left. I don't know. There's got to be a place--somewhere." Scott rubbed his forehead like he had a headache.
"What does Jean have to say?"
Scott reddened. "I don't know. I took off kind of suddenly. She would've wanted to come along, and it's not safe for her or the baby. I left a note..."
Logan shook his head. "Fuck, Summers, you are a moron. You think Jean's just going to sit home passively waiting for you, knowing your the kind of stupid idiot who'd risk his ass for a stray dog?"
"You think she'll follow me?" Scott said, worried.
"I know she will."
The two men were suddenly aware of Marie, kneeling in the doorway, scratching the dog's ears.
"Well. I'm going to get some sleep." Scott yawned, as if to make a point, and went to the second bedroom, leaving Logan with Marie and the dog.
Marie yawned, too. "I might do the same," she said. "But first I really need a shower. Join me?" Logan didn't have to be asked twice.
"I'll be back in an hour--two, tops. I'm just going to grab some food and fill up the tank. We should take off before dark." Logan kissed Marie quickly. "I think we should drive over the mountains and cross into Canada where the border is less guarded."
"Okay... Is, um, is he going to be all right?" Scott had been asleep for most of the day.
"Yeah... I don't like it that he had the cops after him. We don't need any more attention."
"Right."
With a kiss and a caress, Logan took off. This time he stocked up properly, buying food that would last for a long trip, some camping equipment, and a thick warm jacket for Marie. As an afterthought, he picked up some dog food and a chew bone.
On his way back, he passed a gray van going the opposite direction--notable only because the road to the house was relatively private.
When he got back to the house, the sun was low on the horizon and the front door was ajar. Dropping the bag with the dog stuff, Logan ran into the house. "Marie?"
The dog barked. Logan was on the verge of panic. "Marie?! Scott?" Scott's room was empty; his wraparound red glasses were on the floor. Logan and Marie's room was empty. In the bathroom, Logan fell to his knees--blood. On the corner of the sink and the tiled floor, spatters of blood. Marie's blood.
Logan plunged all six claws into the bathroom walls and let out a ferocious roar.
They were gone.
Gone. Marie was gone and someone had hurt her when they took her. Logan yelled and ripped six jagged cuts in the bathroom walls.
No. No, this wasn't gonna help. Think, dumbass, think. They must be close--he'd only been gone a few hours. Scott was probably with her, and, as much as it galled Logan to admit, he was a good fighter. He wouldn't have gone easily, and yet he was gone. And rendered blind without his glasses. Someone had known how to deal with him. It wasn't the reg-cops: they would've stuck the large yellow 'confiscation of unregistered mutant lifeforms' notice on the door.
Who else would've wanted them? Magneto? How would he find out about Marie in the first place, and how would he know where to look? Who else... People like him--out to make a few scouting mutie talent? He knew Charles had at least one other who supplied him. Maybe Erik did, too. Mercenaries who'd sell 'em to the highest bidder? Fuck. He felt sick. He had to get after them. They had to be in some kind of vehicle, and there were only two directions they could go at the end of the driveway.
Logan thought. The gray van he'd passed... It wasn't much, but he clung to it. He grabbed Scott's glasses and ran back to the Scout. The dog followed, pricking its ears.
"All right. Come on, Chuck Junior." The dog didn't have to be asked twice. It hopped in and curled up in the passenger side.
They drove as fast as Logan could push the Scout. Fucking fuckers. Hurting Marie was gonna buy them a gut full of metal.
A sedan was approaching from the opposite direction, driving almost as fast as he was. Logan barely looked at it, but after they crossed it braked sharply and made a U-turn to follow him.
Goddamn fuckers. If they did anything to her... Logan took a little pleasure in imagining the violent end that awaited Marie's abductors at the end of his claws. He didn't notice the car behind him until it started honking. What the fu--? He glanced in the side mirror. Shit. He pulled over and hopped out of the Scout, fuming.
"Do I have the entire Summers clan on my ass? What the fuck are you doing out here, Jean?"
"Calm down, Logan. You're projecting to half the state." Jean looked mildly amused. "Can I take it you've run into my fool of a husband?"
"Yeah. Managed to get himself kidnapped. Took my-- my latest find, too. Goin' after the fuckers now."
Jean narrowed her eyes. Grabbing a bag from her car, she opened the passenger door on the Scout. "Move over," she ordered the dog.
"What about--" Logan nodded at her car.
"It's a rental."
They drove in silence till they reached the first gas station in the direction the gray van had been traveling.
Logan strode into the convenience store, his knuckles itching.
The clerk--his name tag proclaimed 'Marty: bear with me, I'm in training!'--dropped the Hustler he'd been perusing and stared at his two latest customers. The guy was big, with crazy pointy hair and a mean glint in his eye. The chick was a hottie--classy outfit and red hair. Although he'd never had the chance to find out for himself, Marty had it on good authority that redheads were dynamite in the sack.
"Can I hel--"
Pointy hair cut him off abruptly. "You seen a gray van come through here in the last hour or so?"
"Uh, I dunno. If they paid at the pump I wouldn't have noticed." Oh, man, Pointy hair didn't like that answer. He had his fists balled up like he wanted to hit something.
"Wait." The foxy redhead put her hand on his fist. Marty didn't think he'd touch that guy's hands if it was a challenge on Fear Factor. "Let's try to be subtle about this, okay?"
Then she turned her eyes to Marty. "Are you sure you don't remember?" Man, she had pretty eyes. He thought about it, and suddenly he did remember something--just a flash, a chick filling up the tank, and turning out towards the highway that headed over the mountains.
When the two left, Marty felt strange, lightheaded. He grabbed a candy bar and a coke and returned to his magazine.
"What happened to your telepath's ethics?" Logan didn't really care--it had gotten info out of the little twerp--he was just making conversation.
Jean flashed anger, then resignation. "I guess they go out the window when Scott's in trouble."
"Hmph. Hear you got a bun in the oven."
"Yeah." Jean's voice cracked and it looked like she was about to start crying.
Logan sighed. "We'll find 'em, Jeannie. We will." And then they'd tear the fuckers who took them apart. Show 'em what a pissed off mutie was capable of. "That's Scott's dog, y'know. Calls him 'Charles'."
Jean laughed, a little choked by tears, and scratched the dog's head. "Pleased to meet you, Charles."
Charles whined and rested his head on her lap.
They drove for another hour or so until they came upon a rest stop, nestled in the mountains. Logan twitched his nose and pulled over. It wasn't much of a rest area--just a bathroom and a few picnic tables. Logan was practically panting. Marie had been here. Recently. Her scent wafted in the air. Caught in the door to the women's toilet, flapping like a flag in the wind, he found a scrap of cloth--torn from one of his shirts, the one she'd thrown on after their shower. It had been ripped in a strip and was stained with Marie's blood. He gripped it in his fist and brought it to his nose, breathing her in.
Jean watched, guarded.
"She's smart," Logan said. "Knew I'd pick her scent up. Knew something with her blood on it would be one of the strongest scents." He looked around, an almost crazed look in his eyes. "Jean, I've got to find her. Have to."
Touching his arm tentatively, Jean started to speak, but suddenly he was hugging her tight and spilling everything. How Marie was different, how she sassed him and wasn't afraid. How she smelled like oranges and made him dream calm dreams. How there was some sort of connection between them, burning like a taut wire that had snared them--the more they moved, the tighter the wire encircled them.
"I don't know what it is. It's caught me and bound me to her and I don't want to get away," he said. "I don't know what it is, but I don't want to--I don't think I can--be without it."
Jean rubbed her eyes. "God, Logan. I knew you could be dense sometimes..."
He glared at her. "Whaddya mean?"
"It's obvious you're in love with this girl."
Logan looked confused while Jean continued. "It's love that binds you to someone and makes you not want to get away, you big dolt."
He stared hard at her. Then his face crumbled. "Jean--"
"Come on. We'll find them, right?"
They stopped at the first town over the mountains, and pulled into the lone bar/truckstop which bore the promising name "Lucky's."
Inside Lucky's was like any other bar in any other small town on an old highway: dark, smoke filled, pool in one corner, juke in the other. A few old crusters sitting at the bar, some younger toughs at the pool table. Logan fit right in. Jean didn't. Before he could say a word, she grabbed his arm. "Something's going on--that tall one by the jukebox is extremely tense."
Logan cleared his throat and addressed the bartender. "Slow night?"
The bartender sized him up. "Yep."
Jean furrowed her brow and Logan knew she was picking the brains of everyone in the bar. "Can you tell us where Svenson's field is?" she asked with a friendly smile.
"Oh. You're here for that." The distaste on the bartender's face was palpable. "Down Main, past the Sears, take a left on Granite. It's about a 20 minute drive. Turn on the dirt road that says 'Svenson's'... and don't come back here after you've had your fun."
They drove up the dirt road which went on for another mile or so. At the end, there was a large open field ringed with cars. Logan twitched--he smelled her. She was here. Jean shifted in her seat. "Scott's here. He's... hurt, I think, but not badly."
People were milling around the field in the light from a few lanterns and the nearly full moon. Logan pulled the Scout around and parked so it was pointing down the way they'd come. As they got out a grizzled, dirty man approached them.
"Who sent ya?" It was all Logan could do to keep from gutting the guy and tearing his way through the fifty or so people wandering through the field, but he couldn't see Marie.
Jean paused in thought. "Ollie told us about it."
"Ollie, huh? All right then. Ya got the money?"
"Yes. Just a sec." Jean reached in her bag and produced a bundle of bills. She gave most of it to the grizzled man, who promptly lost interest in them.
"How can you stand it," Logan said. "Talkin' nice to 'em, not ripping them apart?"
"I don't know if they've got a gun to his head," she said. "What if I try something and they kill him before I get to him?"
People were gathering in the circle defined by most of the cars. A few men with guns hung out around the perimeter of the field. Opposite the ring from Logan and Jean they spotted a gray van--a tall woman stood by the back door talking to the grizzled man. He handed her a roll of money. The night breeze brought a snatch of their conversation to Logan's sensitive ears.
"Yer the best mutie catcher I ever met," the grizzled man said. "Ya always bring the primo talent. No watered down mutations from you. Sure ya don't wanna stay and see the action?"
The woman laughed. "I don't like to watch, old man." She turned and got in a small sports car. Logan thought he saw a flash of yellow in her eyes as she left, but it was probably a reflection from the lanterns.
The grizzled man picked up a megaphone and announced that the show was about to begin. "Come on, folks. We got a real interestin' mix for ya tonight. How's about a half-man, half-ape? Maybe a fella that can shoot laser beams from his eyes? I know I don't gotta remind you all that if ya get hurt in the crossfire, well, that ain't our problem." The crowd laughed nervously.
"We got a different one for ya now," the man continued. "A pretty little thing with deadly skin--one touch and yer down for the count! Anyone want to volunteer to test her out?" He paused dramatically. "Didn't think so... How about a demonstration?" He nodded to one of the armed men, who opened the van door. Someone inside the van pushed Scott roughly out on the ground. He was blindfolded and had his arms tied behind his back. Jean gasped. Scott held his head up sharply, like he was listening for something.
"He's hurt," Jean said. "His leg. He won't be able to fight much unless he can get that blindfold off."
A man emerged from the van holding a kicking and squirming Marie. She was dressed in Logan's shirt, just as she had been when he left--her legs and feet were bare. The man held her by her shoulders and dropped her to the ground next to Scott. Her arms were also tied behind her back. Scott said something to her and she looked around wildly.
"Wait," Jean said, preempting Logan's rush to Marie's side. "There are five men with semi-automatic weapons. They might not kill you, but they could slow you down enough for someone to hurt her before you got to her. We should take them out first." She stared intently at one of them and Logan understood she was doing something telekinetically to the man's gun. He nodded, frustrated.
The grizzled man put the megaphone down and said something to the guy in the van. He kicked Scott and Marie till they stumbled to the center of the ring. "All right, folks, we're gonna show ya what she can do with the gimpy one here. He prodded Marie with his foot. She glared at him.
"Keep your fucking feet to yourself, you motherfucking fuckhead!"
Logan would have laughed if he hadn't been filled with rage.
"Oh... she's feisty!" said grizzled man. "Let's see what she's got!" The crowd clapped and hooted. "Go on, touch him. Touch him or we give him to the ape man--either way, the crowd gets what it wants!" The second man started to shove Marie towards Scott.
"No, wait," she said. "I'll do it. I'll make it look good, too." She smiled cruelly.
Jean's concentration broke. "Logan... I can't get anything clear from her. Her mind's all a jumble..."
Logan stared at Marie. "It's okay. She-- she knows what she's doin'." Hopefully.
Marie knelt beside Scott and leaned close to his face. She whispered something in his ear, closed her eyes, and then laid her cheek against his.
He fell to the ground like a stone. Marie stood up, her eyes still closed. "You overlooked one important factor of my mutation, old man," she said, opening her eyes. A blast shot from them, hitting the man. She turned her head and blasted a swath among the crowd--the blast was weaker than the first, but strong enough to do serious damage.
"Look, Jean," Logan pointed at Scott, lying on the ground--his hands were twisting at his bonds.
Logan unsheathed his claws and ran to the nearest armed man, cutting his gun neatly in two. The crowd was dispersing, screaming and running to cars. In the mayhem, Logan was able to disarm the other men easily. Jean ran to Scott, untying his hands and cradling his head. Marie clutched her eyes and yelled. "Fuck! It hurts!"
They heard a roar and the sound of metal against metal. A huge, hairy mutant burst from a trailer hitched to a truck. Panting, it surveyed the scene. Without a word, it ran off into the woods.
Running to Marie's side, Logan gathered her in his arms. "I hoped you'd come," she said, holding her hands over her eyes.
In the Scout, Jean sat in the back with Scott resting in her lap. Charles was on the floor, licking his hand. Marie was in front with Logan, eyes still shut. "Is-- is he okay?"
Jean opened her mouth to speak, but Scott cut her off. "I'm fine," he said, his voice thick with anger. "Somebody needs to do something. We can't live like this. Somebody needs to help..."
Marie started to cry. "Ten seconds," she told Logan. "I got it off in ten seconds."
Four hours later, in Idaho, they stopped at a motel. Jean tended to Scott's leg in an adjourning room. Marie hadn't opened her eyes yet. Logan was still turning the conversation he'd had with Jean over in his mind.
"Marie, open your eyes." She sat on the edge of the bed, next to him. "I gotta talk to you about something and I want you to look at me."
She shook her head. "Not yet."
He sighed. "Okay. I'm just gonna tell you, then. I-- I think, no, I know, I'm in love with you."
Marie raised her face but didn't open her eyes. "You're what?"
"It's the only explanation," he said. "From the minute I saw you in that show, it was like... we were connected. I couldn't get away from you."
"I saw you, in the crowd," she said, softly. "You stood out."
Logan's heart tightened. "That dream--the one about the orange grove? I never had that before you. It was always nightmares or no dreams at all. It's you. Your the calm, beautiful place. You make me feel content. I'm bound to you and I know that's the way things should be. You don't have to be in love with me. But, maybe... you could be, one day? I just want to be with you and take care of you..." He trailed off as Marie turned her head away from him. It was too much, too soon. She was freaking out. Hell, he was freaking out.
When she turned back, her eyes were open and clear and the love reflected in them was strong and fierce. "Taking care of me is definitely something I could use a hand with," she said, pulling his head down to kiss him.
End
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
A bit of an AU--a world where the question of mutant rights is a non-question--they don't have any. Humans see mutants as subhuman and thus the idea that they might have rights has never come up. They are required to register as mutants, and humans can hold them as indentured servants--what semblance of rights they have are slightly above those of animals.