He knew she was there. No one reeked of jasmine and murr like Ororo Monroe. Evidently she was having a hard time spotting him since she was wondering aimlessly around the backwoods bar. With her elegant movements and dress along with her bright white hair she was standing out in the middle of a bunch of deadbeats and attracting too much attention to herself. They could track him down to the middle of nowhere Canada but they couldn't find him in a bar? They were pitiful as ever and he shook his head in shame for them. Chuck would be so proud.
“What?” He huffed into his beer as she walked right behind him. She came to an abrupt stop.
“Logan?” She whispered uncertainly then really looked. Of course it was him. Now that she was looking at him she couldn’t believe she couldn’t spot his distinctive hair style from across the room.
“Logan,” she repeated, more softly this time as she gracefully sunk down onto the bar stool beside him. He didn’t look up from his beer.
“Logan.” This time with more authority—like a mother to a sulking child. “Logan, I need to speak with you.”
Two long gulps and the bottle was empty. “So talk.”
A new bottle was immediately sat in front of him. He nodded at the retreating bartender whereas Ororo glared at him.
“We need you to come back.”
No sales pitch, no superhero hype. He always did like Stormy the best. That didn’t change anything.
“No,” he answered bluntly, still refusing to look at her.
“Logan,” matured voice again, a little softer this time. “We all miss you. You must know no one blames you for what happened.”
“Yeah?” He huffed. “Tell that to Scooter.”
She sighed heavily, looking away from him as well. “After what happened… he was grieving, Logan. He didn’t mean any thing that he said.”
Logan snorted, lifting the bottle back to his lips.
“Fine, he blamed you at the time,” she relented. “But he doesn’t any more. He’s the one that sent me here.”
“Well, I’m sending you back,” he said, looking at her for the first time.
She shook her head, taking the bottle right out of his hand. He growled but it didn’t faze her in the least. “I’m afraid I’m not making myself clear. I’m not leaving here without you.”
“Save it, ‘Ro. I’m not---”
“No!” She interrupted him, slamming the bottle down onto the bar. People around them gave faint looks before they went about their business, bar-goers in places like this never paid too close attention to things around them. “You’re coming back and you are going to help us.”
He arched an eyebrow at her and she visibly deflated.
“It’s Magneto,” she said softly, leaning closer to him. “He has taken a friend of our hostage. Her name’s Rogue. You don’t know her; she came just after you left. He wants Cerebro for her.”
Logan took his drink back out of her limp hands. “So use the damn thing to find her. I know it works since you’re sitting here ruining my Friday night.”
“Not her.” Ororo shook her head. “Something about how her mutation works. I don’t really understand myself, Jean could explain it better.”
He shrugged. “It’s still not my problem.”
Again his beer was ripped out of his grasp. “Will you really sit there and tell me that you are going to let something bad happen to an innocent girl just because your pride is hurt. That doesn’t sound like you, Logan.”
He snarled, his claws itching underneath his skin. “My pride is just fine.”
“Good. How ‘fine’ do you think Rogue is right now?” She must have hit something. His face fell, but she didn’t feel any better about it. “I’m sorry to be doing this to you, my friend. I understand just me being here is bringing back bad memories for you. But you’re her only chance. Please, she has nothing to do with what happened before. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”
Ororo threw her head back, taking a long drag from his beer. They feel into silence except for him ordering whiskey. Nursing their booze they let the bar move around them. Faceless bodies and noises moving in one blurred mass.
“She just a kid?” He finally asked.
She still had a fourth of his bottle left. She never was much of a drinker, certainly not beer. “Practically. Turned twenty-one last month, mansion went to hell for a week afterwards.”
A faint smile found his face. The first one in a long time, it didn’t last. They went back to tense silence again. Ororo took one more sip then slid it back over to her with a scowl. He immediately gulped down the rest of it.
“Just this one time,” his rough voice was little more than a whisper. “I go in and get her, and then I’m gone again.”
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She looked sadly at her old friend as he finished the whiskey as well. She forced a slow nod. “If that’s what you want.”
“I’m not an X-Man, ‘Ro.”
She pushed to her feet, laying a gentle hand on his large shoulder. “You will always be an X-Man, Wolverine. We are nothing if not family.”
He shot her a skeptical look and she almost laughed. “I didn’t say we were a functional family. Are you coming, Logan?”
His big hand pushed him away from the bar. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
**
She lost feeling in her arms a while ago, not long after the dizziness cleared from her eyes from whatever the shot her with the second time around. Toad was not fooling around her. The ropes were tied tightly around her upper arms, her chest, her wrists, her thighs, her ankles—he was taking no chances. ‘Smart Frog,’ she thought.
**
It was eerie how much everything was just like it was before he left. That wasn’t true, he reminded himself. The front wall wasn’t blown out, there weren’t kids running around and screaming in terror. Charles Xavier wasn’t there.
He shook the ghosts off his shoulders and stomped off the ramp of the jet, leaving Storm behind to deal with it. There was no point in letting the ghosts out; he wasn’t going to stay long enough to justify the self-loathing. He’d get the dish, get the girl then drop her off at the front gate and be gone. Maybe another time.
The hanger door easily slid open, well oiled high-tech machinery at its finest. Then there was long, slim legs; small, trim waist; and fiery red hair.
“Jeanie,” he greeted with his most lecherous smile, nodding his head at her.
She didn’t return it. That brought his attention even more to her mouth. She wasn’t wearing any lipstick. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Jean without her red lipstick. “Not now, Logan. We’re not in a good mood around here.”
He pushed past her. If she didn’t want to play that was fine with him, just meant he could get out of here even sooner. She followed closely behind him, a little too close behind him for his taste but he kept his mouth shut as he moved into the school halls. Maybe he could loose her in the tidal wave of kids late for class.
“Thank you for coming,” she said in a little lighter tone as she chased after him.
He visibly was ignoring her but it took some effort to bite back the remark that popped up in his head. In his haze of resentment he didn’t see the little green skinned girl until she collided with his knee caps. He did, however, yell out several profanities when her pink and green poke-a-dotted backpack landed squarely on his foot.
“Logan!” Jean chided then same time the girl stuttered out an “I’m sorry!”
He snatched the bag up before the girl could reach for it. “What the hell you carrying in this thing, kid? Bricks?”
Her green skin paled to a sickening lime-like color. “No-no, sir. Just my history book and my math book and my biology book and my--”
“I get it,” Logan snapped, handing the bag back over to her. He hadn’t as much as seen a kid in six years and five minutes back at Xavier’s a green girl was injuring him. Memories were trying to spring up again. He forced them back down.
“Where is he?” He asked over his shoulder to Jean. The kid got the hint and ran off.
“The garage,” she answered. “I’ll go get---”
“Don’t bother,” he demised her. He had a pretty good idea of how to get there on his own, he didn’t suddenly need her help. She yelled after him but he didn’t slow. Kids instinctively moved out of his way. Suddenly the place didn’t feel so familiar. He didn’t recognize a single face. Like he was a stranger to the Institute that he spent most of his years he could remember. He swore under his breath. He should of let Jeanie do the song a dance, that way it would be easier for all of them to pretend he was just some new timer.
When he got to the door to the garage he jerked the handle open a little harder than necessary.
“No one’s allowed in here,” Scott’s voice floated from under a mustang.
Logan snorted. “Like I give a shit. You want my help or not?” There was silence, the short time of three seconds stretching on endlessly.
“Logan,” Scott finally greeted him with his back still turned. His voice was deadpanned but it was the most polite greeting he could muster for the other man.
“One-Eye,” Logan countered, crossing his arms over his chest.
Scott sighed, wondering if he had enough blood pressure medicine left for the guy to be in a five mile radius of him. He’d have to remember to tell Jean tonight to order his refill. Trying to shake it off he snatched a rag off the ground beside him a stood to his feet. He turned around as he cleaned his hands. “Come on, I’ll brief you in the strategy room.”
“Here’s fine,” Logan shot back. “I don’t plan on staying long enough to walk all the way down to the damn strategy room. Just give me the facts.”
Scott nodded, completely agreeing with him for once. “Her name is Rogue. She’s about 5’7”, 120 I’d say. Heavy southern accent. Brown and white hair, kind of can’t miss it.”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s a freak like the rest of us, I got it. Where was she last?”
Scott shook his head, throwing the sullied rag down. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know she left. Hold on.” He opened up the telepathic link. To Wolverine it looked like he was staring blankly at him, it was a little off putting. Of course he knew he wasn’t. The Professor tried a time or two to get in touch with him like that. But he hated having anyone in his head but himself. Looking at Scott now affirmed his opinion—the guy looked like an idiot. Just as Logan was going to let him know of his opinion the door behind him banged back open, nearly hitting him in the back.
“Jean said you need me,” an Asian girl dressed in head to toe yellow chirped. Logan actually found himself taking a step closer to Summers.
“Logan, this is Jubilation Lee, Rogue’s side kick,” Scott explained. “Did you talk to Rogue the other morning, before she left?”
The girl looked between the two men and popped her gum. It was neon yellow too. “Hel---uh, heck no. She left at like five in the morning. You know I’m not any kind of social before nine. And who said I was the side kick? Because I am totally no one’s side kick; we are an equal level crime fighting duo, dude.”
Logan could feel a headache beginning to form in his left temple, despite his healing factor. And the girl was still talking. “I know where she went though,” she said. Both men raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded at them and popped her gum again.
“Where?” Logan snapped, having no patience left with anything to do with the school. That would have been the sentence he wanted to hear three blood vessels ago.
The girl didn’t jump back or otherwise show any signs of fear at him. In fact a hand went to her hip and she shot him a glare. “Hey, who the hell are you, Hairy, huh?”
“Jubilee,” Scott stepped forward, feeling Wolverine winding tight beside him. “Just tell us where, please.”
“Uh huh,” She replied directly at Logan, blowing a large bubble just for his benefit before popping it loudly. He growled at her but she just turned her attention back to Scott. “She went to the nature reserve, goes jogging there every Sunday morning. Evidently the sunrise is pretty cool looking over the lake. Not my thing, though, you know? Just as soon watch it on T.V, thanks.”
“Keys,” Logan growled at Summers the same time the younger man thanked the girl and sent her off and out of his domain. Scott considered pointing out to him that the damn keys were hanging up right behind that pointy head of his but opted to keep the encounter as civil as possible and simply walked around him instead. Wolverine effortlessly caught the flying metal tossed at him. When one eyebrow arched up on his forehead Scott’s hands itched to laser it off.
“What the hell do these go to?” Wolverine huffed, rolling the dull metal in his hand.
“The van. It’s right over there.”
“Van? As is that piece of shit?” Wolverine gawked. Up against the side of the garage was a large navy blue panel van, complete with a silver stripe down the side. “How about somethin’ a little less noticeable than a fucking blue van? Forget the fact it’s a damn eyesore; Buckethead is gonna be able to sense that much metal comin’ a mile away.”
“You’re taking it,” Scott ordered, his leader voice wavered slightly with his frustration. “She could be injured. Damn it, Logan, she’s probably beat to hell and you know it. That eyesore has a full first aid kit and a bed in the back. You’re taking it.”
“Shit,” Logan swore under his breath. If Sabretooth was involved at all in the snatch then it was a guarantee the girl wasn’t in good shape. He should have never gotten his ass off that bar stool. Now on top of a damn annoying as hell rescue he was going to have to deal with a whiny, busted up kid. Driving a blue van. “Great.”
The driver’s side door surprisingly didn’t make a sound when it jerked it open. Wonders of wonders.
“Logan!” Summers voice stopped him just as he was about to slam it shut. He leaned his head out to glare at the other man.
The X-Men’s voice went cold in warning. “Don’t mess this up. All you have to do it get her out.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm like the worst updater ever. I know. But admitting it is the first step to recover. I'm gonna try to wrap this up as soon as possible. Love ya's!