Rogue slipped silently along the narrow ledge surrounding the board room Friends of Humanity had selected as its latest meeting place. In the darkness, the cool, crisp New England fall weather chapped her cheeks. She knew from experience that for the next several days her cheeks would glow pink in the soft afternoon sunlight. Frowning, she grimaced at the lecture she would get from Logan for failing to protect her skin. Little did Logan know it actually made her feel more human and less mutant when her invulnerable skin managed to be altered by something as simple as cold air.
Accessing Ms. Marvel’s powers, she floated several inches above the ledge, insuring that her boots didn’t alert those whom she was listening to. The Friends of Humanity were a radical mutant hate group led by the son of Sabretooth, Graydon Creed. Rumor had it that Sabretooth was actually Wolverine’s father, which would subsequently make Graydon his half-brother. She’d never forget that particular X-Men debriefing. The cold Molson Logan had spit three feet across the game room and his shocked and horrified face were enough to entertain her over and over again when she was at her most bored.
Recently, mutant hate crimes had increased around Westchester. Wolverine, with the help of Charles and Cyclops, had mapped each attack on a topographical grid surrounding the mansion. The red dots formed circles like the rings on a fallen tree. The circles grew smaller and smaller as they got closer and closer to the mansion. The mansion, conspicuously enough, was in the perfect center.
It was blatantly obvious the FoH was planning to mount an attack, but with powerful mutants like Xavier, Cyclops, Wolverine, and Storm calling the residence home, as well as the plethora of dangerously lethal mutant children running around, it was a desperate move at best. Xavier worried that Graydon may have some sort of secret weapon he was planning to employ against the X-Men. Wolverine-in-her-head had desperately hoped it was a Sentinel. Nothing beat the pants off of a Sentinel like adamantium slicing through it’s thick noggin, and that, the Wolverine had purred, was an afternoon well spent.
Of course, Wolverine also considered afternoons well spent those in which he managed to yank Rogue’s clothing off abruptly and dump her into his king sized bed. Images of yesterday afternoon vividly came to mind. Logan peeling her worn t-shirt and jeans off, piling them on the floor and growling in approval at her lack of undergarments. Logan, nibbling from her toes, to her knees, to her thighs...Logan’s chest, her fingertips splayed against it, dragging long scratches down his toned back as he rocked steadily into her, lips devouring her neck and breasts...Logan demanding she say his name when she...
“You alright, kid?” a gruff growl snarled from the edge of the balcony overhang. Wolverine crouched there, hair wild from the winds atop the high rise hotel.
Rogue jumped, sucking in a startled scream. Blushing profusely, she rested her hand lightly on the stuccoed wall outside the board room’s windows to steady her racing heart. She barely made eye contact with Wolverine as he smirked devilishly, a sharp, feral fang peeking from the corner of his rakish smile as he scented the wind. His black X-Men uniform hugged all of him tightly, and he winked at her as she bit the edge of her lip from trying not to groan at the sight of his ass caressed by soft leather.
“Like whatcha see?” his voice growled in her ear, teeth nibbling gently along the edge of her ear lobe.
“Shut the fuck up, Logan.” she hissed.
“Wanna find Graydon Creed’s bedroom and...” he continued, his breath hot on her neck
“LOGAN!” a disturbed voice growled over the communication link in Rogue’s ear, “DO YOU MIND?!”
“Sorry, Scooter.” Wolverine chuckled.
“We gonna do this, or what?” she whispered, sliding down further along the ledge. “We don’t have all day.”
“Yeah, yeah sure, don’t rush me!” he scolded softly. “I've been doing this a lot longer than you, you know.”
Rolling her eyes, Rogue reached into a pouch on her belt to produce several of the tiny, robotic listening bugs that Beast had formulated in his free time. It looked almost exactly like a fly, but contained a high powered, miniscule camera and microphone which streamed a live feed via satellite back to the mansion. Nightcrawler had recently hinted that the reason Beast was so wealthy was not because he was a doctor, but because he had sold this technology to the military some time back.
Talk about a lucrative business.
The lights dimmed as the meeting came to an end, the men and women who chaired FoH standing, shaking hands, and exiting the room swiftly and silently. Checking her countdown of five minutes, Rogue summoned Shadowcat to the forefront of her mind and slid through the wall like a hot knife through butter. Wolverine stood outside the window as a body guard, body vibrating with his soft growls. If he had it his way, Rogue was pretty sure she’d be barefoot and pregnant, comfortably protected at the mansion where no harm could come to her.
She quickly and silently placed the bugs around the room, watching them remotely sit up and fly away to hide in various locations: under chairs, in ceiling tiles and air vents, as well as inside the blindingly fluorescent lighting. A sudden movement made her step back as a member of FoH suddenly sat up from behind the massive council’s desk that stretched across the front of the room.
“What the...?” he hissed, then let out a violent yell of “MUTANT!” sure to bring every participant in the meeting back, double time. From beneath the desk he pulled a lever action rifle and aimed it at Rogue.
The sound of pounding feet running towards the situation from down the hall was accompanied by that of shattering glass as the Wolverine barreled into the room, claws outstretched, a guttural, angry roar declaring his murderous intent.
Marie turning, distracted, to glance at Wolverine, gasped when the FoH extremist fired the gun. The slug slammed into the soft place where her collarbone and neck collided. Instead of injuring her, the slug collapsed, releasing a noxious, potent drug cocktail into the air. She inhaled deeply, and it darted from her lungs to her bloodstream, flooding her body.
Choking and gagging, her eyes rolled back into her head and her body dropped like a rag doll onto the multi-patterned, cheap carpet that was wall to wall common in this hotel.
-------
All Logan saw was Marie falling, falling, falling, into a heap on the floor. On the way down, it looked as if she had disappeared from inside her own uniform with a flash of smoke. Something hit the floor with a loud thunk, and Logan’s unsheathed claws ran the FoH shooter through violently. Then, he ran towards the board room doors. Borrowing on adrenaline, he shoved the entire board room table against them, blocking them from the inside. Turning, he gulped back something that felt suspiciously like a sob as he approached the bundle of clothes where his, HIS sweet girl had just stood.
Her scent had not disappeared, it just seemed, muted somehow. Oblivious to FoH trying to ram the door down, he sheathed one set of claws and let his rough fingers slide through the leather uniform, encountering only a strange bump at the bottom.
He prodded the bundle, and a soft wail suddenly erupted into the room, the sound of a baby crying made Logan’s ears shriek in protest. The door gave way, cracking all the way down the middle. Not knowing what to do, he grasped the bundle tightly, and dove from the building, one set of claws dragging down the exterior wall with a fierce grating noise to slow his descent.
Reaching the bottom of the building, Logan dug through the clothes, desperate for some sign of Marie. Instead, he was greeted with a child’s giggle as he unzipped the suit. There, laying amidst the black leather, was a tiny baby.
His dog tags were gently wrapped around its neck.
Marie’s two platinum streaks of hair faintly showed through the edges of light brown, thin baby hair.
“Marie?” Logan asked, one eyebrow raised.
In response, the baby giggled and tugged on his hair playfully. Super strength ripped a chunk of it from his head.
“Fuck! Marie?” he asked again, and her laughter, sweet as wild bluebells, burst forth as his healing factor reversed the damage done to his scalp.
Shouts and gunshots ricocheted loudly into the air behind him. He grabbed the baby, Marie or not, and tore into the nearest woods looking for the rendezvous point he and Scooter had established earlier.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Music Selection: “Sweet Child O’ Mine” by Guns ‘n’ Roses
“She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky, now and then when I see her face, she takes me away to that special place, and if I stared too long, I’d probably break down and cry”
“She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky, now and then when I see her face, she takes me away to that special place, and if I stared too long, I’d probably break down and cry”
Chapter End Notes:
Let me know what you think! I hope this uploads correctly this time, I think it's my Mac that's screwing with the formatting.