I wish I had a lighter. I want to set my coat and my gloves and my scarves on fire. I want to watch them burn. I want to cut off all of my hair so that stupid white reminder will go away. Maybe I should go wake Logan from one of his nightmares so he’ll stab me again.
I’m heading toward the garage for I don’t know what reason. Maybe I’ll steal a car. I’m starting to wish I had listened to Storm. She told me that there was nothing wrong with me, and you know what? There wasn’t, until now. Now there’s a lot wrong with me, like the fact that I’m alone and I don’t have anywhere to live and I’m flat broke because I don’t have a job. I don’t technically have a valid education, so it’s not like I can find a job…unless I become a stripper or a hooker.
Hmmm… what would my stripper name be? Rogue doesn’t exactly exude sex and seduction. Maybe something like…Peaches or Sugar. That would go well with my accent. Oh no. My big problem just got worse. Logan.
He’s got the hood up on one of the cars. He doesn’t look up at me, but he’s got very acute senses, so he knows I’m in here.
“You need a ride somewhere, kid?” I don’t now how he talks with that big cigar in his mouth.
I move away from the shadows and toward the light of the workbench where he’s rustling through a blue toolbox. I set my bag on the floor and stuff my hands into my pockets. “No…I don’t know. Maybe. Yes.”
He cocks a brow at me and rests his cigar between his thumb and index finger. Maybe it’s in my head, but his gaze is different. I feel so self-conscious. “Where you gonna go?”
“I can’t stay here, Logan. I don’t belong. Everyone’s made that quite clear.” My voice is shaking and I don’t know why.
“Really…” He tosses what’s left of his cigar on the concrete floor and squashes it with his heavy boots. He puts his hands on his hips and his dog tags clink a little with his movement. “Everyone?”
I don’t like where this conversation is headed. “I’m cured, Logan. I’m not a threat anymore. I’m not a mutant. I have to leave.”
He shrugs. “Do what you want, kid.” He’s back to examining the engine.
What? Sometimes, Logan really makes my head hurt. “So does that mean you’re going to give me a ride? Or am I gonna have to use my Southern charm to hitch rides from pervert truckers?”
He chuckles. “I got some things to do. When you leaving?”
“Right now.” The words fly out of my mouth before I’m even sure that’s what I want.
He’s quiet for a long time, unscrewing caps, wiping things down, and checking fluids. He retrieves the hand towel from his back pocket and wipes the grease from his skin. “Wait here.”
He disappears into the mansion. He comes back a few moments later, and I’m snooping around through the toolboxes. He’s put on a second shirt and his denim jacket. He says nothing to me, and heads across the garage toward the Range Rover. I guess that’s my cue. I grab my bag and follow him.
He doesn’t wait for me to get into the car to start the engine. And he doesn’t even wait for me to buckle up before he takes off, a little too quickly, toward the rolling door. He speeds toward the front gates, and makes a sharp turn onto the winding mountain road.
“Um, Logan, where are we going?” I ask hesitantly.
“I don’t know,” he replies gruffly. “You tell me.”
“I’m not really sure,” I confess.
“Well make up your mind, kid. You’re the one who’s so eager to run away.” There is impatience in his voice.
“What the hell, Logan? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m disappointed in you, kid.” He never takes his eyes off the road, although he’s driving like someone who’s wearing a blindfold.
“What?! You’re disappointed in me? Why?! What did I do? What do you expect me to do? Just sit around that place and pretend that I’m still one of the ol’ gang?” I realize that my voice is quite loud.
“Your accent gets thicker when you’re mad,” he points out.
“What?!” Like I said, Logan makes my head hurt. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Kid, I’m two seconds away from slicing out your larynx.” His grip on the steering wheel tightens.
Whoa. That shuts me up. Logan’s never threatened me with violence before. He’s joking, right?
“Look, kid, you asked me for advice and I gave it to you. I told you to never go against your gut for some snot-head, blue-balled icicle, and you completely disobeyed me.”
I feel the blood rush to my face. “Disobeyed you? What, are you my master now? You said that you aren’t my father, Logan, so you have no right to chastise me for what I did. I didn’t take the cure for Bobby!”
He snorts. “Yes you did. You know it, I know it, and he knows it. You bitched because you weren’t normal, and now you’re bitching because you are.”
“What?!” I shift so quickly in my seat that the belt locks and pins me back. “How dare you say that to me!”
“Kid, I’m the only person who’s gonna be this honest with you. You should be thanking me. I’m all you got.” He glances back and forth between the rear view mirror and the road ahead.
“Bullshit! Fuck you, Logan!”
“Watch your language.”
“Fine, screw you!” my voice breaks. I’ve started to cry and I can’t stop. I’m crying because I’m hurt, and I’m crying because he’s right. I was stupid and I thought taking the cure would solve all of my “problems.” But now, I wish I could go back.
I turn toward the window and rest my head against the cold glass. I sob quietly to myself. I hear him say something under his breath. The car slows and Logan veers off onto a county access road.
“What’re you doing?” I don’t mean to sound so panicked. He drives for several hundred feet and parks. “Is this it? Are you dropping me here?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he mutters as he unbuckles.
“You’re wearing your seatbelt,” I whisper.
He grunts in acknowledgement. “I can’t seem to shake the habit.” I almost smile. He clears his throat. “I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve put my foot down. I should never have let you walk out that door. Look at you, kid. You’re me. Isolated, alone, full of regret, and reduced to a life of roaming. You’re better than that.”
“It’s no different. Even with my skin, I was an outcast. I don’t have a ‘cool’ mutant power. I can’t move things with my mind, I can’t fly, I can’t control metal, I can’t make fire or ice… I just drain people’s memories and life. What good is that? I don’t belong anywhere, Logan.”
We’re quiet for a long time. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He strokes his chin and the stubble on his face. “Last night.”
“Oh.” What was that? That’s all I can say. Oh. What am I supposed to say? It did hurt. “No.”
“Kid, there’s no easy way to say this. But…”
“I know, Logan.” I put on my best brave face.
“No, I don’t think you do,” he exhales. “I was supposed to protect you, and I’m the one who’s the biggest threat to you. You’re gonna go back to Xavier’s and I’m gonna leave.”
“Logan, you know you can’t just pack up and abandon the school, now.”
“And you can?” He has a point.
“But Logan, I’m not a mutant anymore! How many times do I have to say it? And believe me, that makes a difference.”
“But you sure as hell ain’t one of them.” He finally looks at me. “You’re gonna run away and hide just because people are looking at you funny? That’s not Rogue.”
“Well, if I can’t go, then you can’t go,” I reason.
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not safe.” There’s definitely something bothering him. He seems so tense and nervous.
“Why?”
“ Because!” He nearly growls. “Don’t ask any more questions. I’m taking you back.”
I stare at him in awe. What just happened? He starts the engine so roughly that the car makes a creaking noise. I don’t want to go back, but right now, that looks like my only option.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: The X-Men and their likenesses belong to Marvel and Fox, not me.