Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Still unbetaed, mistakes are all mine.

CHAPTER TWELVE

She was waiting for him when he came out.

Or rather, when Hank (literally) kicked him out of the room. Claws and all. Knocked him into the corridor and then tossed his jacket after him, telling him to, “Put the redneck scalpels away in front of the lady,” when he noticed Marie waiting. Turned out, Beast wanted him to talk about what was happening, and when he refused things got a little…heated. Interactive, if you will. The Marie in his head had just rolled her eyes. Her flesh and blood counterpart did likewise.

Though she looked a little more pissed.

Stared straight ahead like nothing had happened, her mouth set in a thin line. Looked up when he opened the door, nodded to Hank, but didn’t look at him. Didn’t take his hand like she normally did neither. Just stood and made for the conference room, muttering something about having a surprise guest. Wolverine wished he could ask her about what had happened, but he knew it’d do no good. Wasn’t like he could explain how the nightmares, with their images of him slicing and dicing her, of her as some hollering, scratching, have-your-pants-off-before-you-can-say-condom stranger, scared the crap outta him. It’d change the way she looked at him with those sweet blue eyes forever. Might even drive her away, and he couldn’t let that happen now that he knew his nearness was healing her. So he had to withdraw instead. It was the only way to keep her safe.

Sure bub, his inner Wolveirne growled, This is all about her.

He pushed the thought away.

They found their guest, Assistant DA Robert “Iceman,” Drake camped outside Storm’s office like a groupie at a Backstreet Boys concert. All shiny and slick and doing his bestest impression of Cyclops. Throw in a beard and you’da sworn he’d hit puberty. Nothing about him however, from his set-your-watch-by-it haircut to his shiny Gucci loafers, was enough to make the token mutant in City Hall comfortable in front of the Wolverine, and it showed. Drake seemed to shrink the moment he laid eyes on Logan, gaze darting away soon as he’d instinctively loped an arm around Marie’s shoulders and pulled her close despite the way she stiffened. Boy damn near blushed. Inwardly Logan grinned: Felt good to remind young Robert just where he stood in the pecking order, no matter how many GQ covers he’d done. Especially since he knew he was up a certain creek without a paddle, where Marie was concerned.

“Do Ah look like a tree?” she whispered sarcastically. Though she didn’t throw his arm off.

“No, you look like a babe.”

Despite herself a tiny smile tugged at her features. “Right answer,” she murmured.

Drake cleared his throat then. “I’m sorry to just drop in unannounced,” he began, “But I was wondering whether I could have a word with Marie?” He clicked open his briefcase and started taking out papers, nodding to Kurt and Storm like Marie’d already given her okay. Dismissive in the finest pencil pusher tradition. Logan wondered idly whether a lack of morning caffeine was considered a legitimate excuse for homicide, or whether the day he’d had so far was enough. Though Drake kept this up and Marie might just go Wolvie on him herself, he thought. Which was always entertaining. “I won’t keep you long, Marie,” Drake continued obliviously, “But you must understand that I have an obligation-”

“Bobby,” Rogue interrupted dryly, “Do ya mind explaining why ya talkin’ t’me like you got a stick up your butt?”

Drake blinked. So did Kurt. Storm made a sound suspiciously like a snort.

Logan felt a little sorry for Drake, since he suspected he was about to get the tail-end of her anger at him. But then, that’s what starch in your boxers did for a boy.

“Ah mean,” she continued casually, “You show up here after who knows how long and start demanding stuff, and makin’ with the paper-work, and actin’ like Ah done something wrong.” She brushed the hair from her face with studied nonchalance. “C’mon, Bobby, Ah’ve seen ya naked: do we really gotta be so damn formal with one another?”

Drake, to his credit, didn’t rise to the bait. Exactly. After all, he had dated Marie, and he knew how little impact trying to lay down the law with her would have. Just looked nervously at Logan again and tried that same trust me smile. “I’m not sure whether this is the right forum-” he began. “The matter is delicate-”

“How delicate?”

“Your husband delicate.”

We get to talk about the swamp rat? The inner Wolverine groaned. This day just got better and better, don’t it?

Marie took in a deep breath then. Shook her head and shot Drake a tired smile. “Ah was worried you’d say that.” She nodded to the others, suddenly wary. “We need the room, okay, guys?” And then quietly, so only Logan would hear, “Stay close, yeah?”

“Always,” he growled. Took his position at her six. The others filed out soon as she asked them, Storm giving the younger woman a small pat on the shoulder as she went. Kurt closed the door last, shooting Drake a warning look as he did so. Even showing his teeth a little for effect. Drake’s eyes flashed questioningly to Logan as the lock clicked and Marie immediately straightened up, pulling his free arm around her waist. Effectively cutting off that line of inquiry before it even started.

Which was kinda a relief.

“So what’s Remy done this time?” Marie asked bluntly once they were alone. “Another incendiary speech? More playing around with those morons at Mutants First?” She let the silence hang. Again Drake looked at Wolverine like he wanted him out of the room but this time he let one of his claws loose and settled the matter. Decisively.

Drake sighed. “Marie, nobody has seen your husband for at least two weeks,” he said eventually. “He went missing from the parking lot of a bar outside of Meridian, name of Merlottes. You know it?”

He asked her, but he was looking at Logan. Which was weird.

She shrugged. “Merlottes is a swamp dive,” she answered. “Remy knew a lot of swamp dives. Him and Emma-” and she trailed off. A slight blush on her cheeks. Now that was one story he wanted to hear. “You wanna know where he is, go check with Belladonna in New Orleans: he’s probably hiding behind her skirts. Or you could try Etienne’s.” She shot him a mirthless smile. “If ya can get out in once piece, that is.” She met his gaze now, eyes quizzical. “He does this, Bobby: channels his inner Johnny Cash. He’ll be back in a couple o’ weeks, swearing blind the government drove him to it and stinking of someone who ain’t me.”

Drake cocked an eyebrow. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, Ah do.” She twined her hands through Logan’s and leaned more closely into him, her tenseness forgotten for a moment. Closed her eyes, the expression strangely vulnerable. She looked so damn small. “Truth is, Ah seen him less than the courts did this last year, Bobby. You’d have more luck trying his PA.” Again that mirthless smile. “Who knows? You might even get a straight answer outta her. Ah never could.”

“So you two weren’t close?”

She shook her head. “You can’t be close to someone who’s never there.” And then she smiled sadly at Logan. “Or more precisely, who’s there in body but not in spirit.”

“The last time you talked it was amicable?”

“No, it was a screaming match. But that was in our cabin here in New York, so unless you think Ah can teleport across the country, he was miles away from me when he went walkabout.”

Drake nodded thoughtfully then, but he didn’t relax. If anything he tensed up. “And there hasn’t been any other incidents you might like to add?” He gestured towards Logan. Got tenser again. Which just proved what a clever boy he was. “After all,” he continued, “Your relationship with your husband was hardly placid. And from what I’ve seen today you’ve moved on quite decisively in the last few weeks-”

“Watch your mouth, bub,” Logan growled.

Drake blinked at him, feigning innocence. “Are you telling me you were unaware of her marriage to Mr. LeBeau?”

Now Marie growled. “I’m telling you it’s none of your business, Robert.”

The smug look on Drake’s face woulda made Gandhi’s blood boil. “And the six separate call-outs from police in the last eighteen months, those aren’t my business either?” He shook his head. “Tell me, Marie: how many times were you going to call the cops before you actually pressed charges?”

What?

Logan growled then, getting to his feet. Charges? he thought, They wanted her to press charges? He shot Marie an angry, questioning look but she shook her head, asking him to be quiet. Later, she mouthed, Not here. She didn’t like the idea of people knowing her business, never had. And judging by the look on her face, she liked the idea of Bobby Drake knowing her business even less. “Whatever you’re fishing for, Robert,” she snapped through clenched teeth, “Ah suggest you look somewhere else.” She stood up. “We’re done here.”

“A man is missing-”

“And you are outta line.” She crossed her arms, jerked her chin stubbornly in an expression she knew he’d recognise. “A high profile mutant activist has gone missing and you need someone to blame,” she bit out. “Preferably another mutant, since if this is a hate crime you’d have t’open up a whole can o’ civil rights worms you and your bosses wanna pretend don’t even exist.” Drake opened his mouth to correct her but she spoke over him with nary a pause. “Mah husband is missing. Fine. You know what? He’s been missing on and off for the last three years. You didn’t care much then. Ah can only hazard a guess why you care now, in this re-election year.” She bounced back on her heels. “If you wanna make a name for yourself, knock yourself out. But you will not drag me inta this, Bobby Drake, and you won’t drag Logan into it either.” She put her face in his, not a trace of her earlier vulnerability visible. “Now get the hell outta mah house. ‘Fore Ah kick you out.”

“You should listen to her, son,” Logan muttered. “Girl’s got a vicious temper.”

Drake shot him a venomous look. “And a pet rottweiler, by the looks of things.”

Logan smiled extra pretty. “I’m a wolverine.”

“That’s one word for it.” He snapped the briefcase closed. “This isn’t over. You’ll be hearing from my office-”

“And you’ll be wearing those Guccis for a hat. Son.” Just for a second temper got the better of Drake at that and the air began to drop, his power gearing up. Ice beginning to form on his finger-tips, his skin getting pale and cold. Logan dropped his weight to the balls of his feet, shifted his stance for combat. Popped out one other claw like the was doing Drake a favour and grinned.

Marie began pulling off one of her gloves and instantly the ice disappeared.

So he knew her mutation was back.

Drake straightened his shirt then. Tugged at a cufflink and tried to regain his calm. “If something did happen,” he muttered, “And it was a case of self defence, I’d have fought your corner. It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with that terrain.”

Marie’s voice was caustic. “Ah ain’t Kitty,” she drawled. “Ah don’t need a knight in shining armour to fight mah battles for me. Ah take care o’ mahself.”

Drake’s eyes shifted to Logan and then back to her. A callous smile slit his face. “You just keep telling yourself that, Mrs. LeBeau,” he muttered. And then he was gone.

The silence in his wake was deafening.

Logan sat down, gearing himself up for a conversation about her marriage he’d been avoiding since she’d gotten here, and tried to rein in the impulse to go looking for Gambit himself. If that rat bastard had raised a hand to her- Marie must’ve read the look on his face because she cleared her throat then and sat down next to him. Sighed and took his hand in hers. And to think two hours ago one little nightmare had been all he had to worry about…

“Some days,” she murmured sourly, “It’s just Johnny Cash all the way, ain’t it?”

He nodded grimly.

Ain’t it just.