An hour later, Bryony was released from Hank’s care with five stitches in a freshly-cleaned wound, and no signs of concussion. Only bruises remained where the soldier had grabbed her throat. Rogue had secured the area and the room, and returned Bryony’s red shawl to her, then went to her own dorm room to concentrate on some reading and settle her nerves before bed.
Sitting at the small kitchen table, Bryony sipped a cup of hot tea and collected her own nerves while Logan double-checked on Rogue and the remains of the failed ritual. All was quiet, so he returned to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, sitting across the table from the dark-haired woman. It was nearing 2 am.
Their eyes held each other for several moments before Logan broke the silence and asked, “Do you have any reason to go back home tonight? Anyone waiting for you, or animals to take care of, anything like that?”
“Nope,” she said over her cup.
“Wanna stay here... just for safety? Or convenience? Or... company?” He gave her a look that was hard to interpret.
“I... I guess that would work,” she answered hesitantly. “Is there a place I can get some sleep? I don’t know how much room there is here, with so many students in residence.”
Sipping the beer and setting the bottle quietly on the table, he commented, “My room is quiet. And the bed is a double...”
Many moments passed before she quietly spoke, “Okay. But I gotta make a call first.”
“This late?” Logan asked, showing no emotion.
“The hunters,” she answered. “It might take them a day or two to get here, depending on where they are and what they’re involved in at the moment.”
“Right,” he acknowledged, handing her his cell phone, but she hesitated.
“I don’t remember the number. I’ll need to go home and get my book. Unless there’s a computer here that I can access my e-mail and pull it from the contacts?”
“In the library. Come on, I’ll show you...” he reached for her hand and led her from the room.
A few minutes later he eavesdropped discretely as she talked to a sleepy-voice man who said ‘they’ were in Ohio, and could be there the next evening. Giving the address and a few basic directions, she closed the call and handed the cell back to Logan.
“All arranged - they’ll be here tomorrow, before sundown.”
“I heard.”
A sly smile drifted across her mouth, “Oh, yeah - the hearing thing. You really are amazing.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured as he pulled her closer and drifted lips across her ear lobe.
Thursday
Rogue stumbled from her bed the next morning, groggy and tired after a short, tense night’s sleep. Checking her cell to make sure what day it was and whether she needed to run to class, she gave thanks for a free day and climbed into a warm shower, anxious to know how everyone else had fared the night. Wrapping a towel hastily around her dripping hair, she threw on sweats and socks and padded down the hall, up the stairs, and toward Logan’s door.
Knowing he would hear her or smell her by now, she didn’t bother knocking as usual, but grabbed the knob and gently turned, but it was locked.
He never locked his door.
Raising her hand to knock, she hesitated, knowing he had been up even later than she. Maybe he was still asleep. Crouching to press one eye to the keyhole, she peered through the tiny opening for any sign of movement within. A splash of red caught her eye.
It was Bryony’s red shawl, thrown across one corner of the bed, which showed unmoving shapes beneath the blankets. Rogue had carried that shawl down to the Med Lab last night to return to its owner. The witch had spent the night in Logan’s room, apparently in Logan’s bed.
Feeling shaky and cold, Rogue backed away from the keyhole, unsure what to do, and not wanting to be discovered snooping. Backing softly away from the locked door, she eventually ran back to her room, finished dressing, and took one of the mansion’s cars for the drive into town with the excuse of wanting a diner breakfast. Knowing something was wrong, Jubilee inserted herself behind the sedan’s wheel forcibly, knowing Rogue was stressed.
“I’m driving. You name the place, we eat.”
“I don’t care, just anywhere away from here,” Rogue groused.
“Are you that bored with the grub here, or are the ghosts ruining your morning pancake experience?”
“Neither. Just drive,” she bit off. They had barely left the ground’s main gate when Jubilee instantly wheeled the car to the berm and turned off the engine. “Hey! If you’re not gonna drive this thing, them move your ass over and I’ll drive.”
“No way, chica. Something has you fired up and I want you to spill it. What’s wrong?” Jubilee pulled the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them, then threw the child lock, indicating her intentions were serious.
“You know I can just touch you and take the keys while you’re out cold...” muttered Rogue.
“And I can melt you fast to the upholstery before you can get one glove off. Now spill. What’s eating you this morning?”
“Logan,” Rogue whispered.
“Coulda figured that; so what has the big lug done now?” Jubes turned toward Rogue and leaned her shoulder against the seat. “What did he say, do, not do, etc., to hurt you? I need to know the details before I chew his ass for it. It’s more believable that way. I like to be taken seriously when I’m in Mama Bear mode.”
Wiping away a single tear, Rogue steeled herself and stated, “You’re not my mama, and Logan didn’t ‘do’ anything ‘to’ me. He’s just being Logan. It’s my problem, not his.”
“Okay,” Jubes breathed, “then what is ‘your’ problem with Logan?”
Knowing that avoidance was useless when Jubes was on the information-seeking trail, Rogue finally confessed, “I saw him with another woman. I know he’s a rounder, but I never had to see it before.”
“You say ‘another woman’ like he’s cheating on you. Is there something between you two that I wasn’t aware of? Because last time I looked, you were platonic friends. Granted, there’s a definite steamy attraction there, and who could blame either of you? You’re both perfect specimens of smoking hottiness, so an attraction is just natural.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, but I never had to see him being ‘intimate’ with someone before, and it threw me for a loop.”
Jubes gasped, “You actually saw them in the act? In flagrante? Coital activity and slippers-to-the-ceiling and everything?”
“No, no... not in the physical act. Just asleep in the same bed, which says enough.” Rogue drew a deep breath, and continued, “I know I’m being an idiot. One minute Logan flirts with me, then he’s sleeping with someone. He’s just a big horny slut, and I know that. It’s his nature. He’s a high-sex-drive loner who’s not apt to settle down for the next two or three centuries, so what chance do I stand with him sexually? None. Zip. I’m just a big naive dork.”
“No, you are not. You want him. Oh hell, I want him, Kitty wants him, probably Scott wants him, too, and I wouldn’t put it past Xavier, though I am so not going there mentally, even if they are likely of the same generation. Face it, Roguey; our big bad Wolverine’s just a sex magnet on legs. There’s nothing wrong with wanting him.”
“Poison skin is wrong with that! I can’t do anything worthwhile to him, and he isn’t likely to settle down with a virtual nun. In the meanwhile, he’s getting his rocks off with someone I know and LIKE, and I’m watching from a distance, and eating myself up from the inside over it.”
“Who is she?” Jubes almost shouted in fervent curiosity. “One of us? A student?!?”
“Noooo,” Rogue chided her. “I’m not saying. I stumbled across them asleep together, and it’s private. You don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘private’, so nopers, I’m not telling.
“It’s the ghost buster, isn’t it?” Jubes drummed her fingers quickly on the steering wheel as Rogue threw up her hands in resignation.
“Just drive. I’m hungry.”
Between a long, late breakfast and several hours of medicinal shopping, it was close to sundown when they returned toward the mansion grounds. Traffic was light as they pulled into the turn lane at the stop sign on the country road leading to the grounds. While they waited for traffic to clear, an old black car pulled alongside Rogue’s passenger side window, and the guy behind the wheel yelled something at her over the rumble of a loud stereo that was pumping out Metallica.
“Ignore him - he’s just hitting on you,” Jubes said, then checked herself. “Wait a minute! That’s what we need right now. Talk to the man, besides look at him. He’s a gorgeous hunk’o man.”
“I’m not picking up guys on the highway now just because...” But Jubilee had already rolled down the window from the master control on the driver’s side.
Shouting across Rogue, Jubilee yelled, “Turn it down!” at the guy in the car, noting a second guy, possibly even hotter than the driver, was in the other seat. Elbowing Rogue discretely, she mouthed ‘score!’.
The music lowered slightly, and Rogue did turn to regard the driver in the car beside them. He was late twenties, short brown hair, full lips, somewhere between handsome and pulchritudinous. The other man was darker, seemed younger and a little uncomfortable with the yelling, and instantly he reached again for the volume control. The music faded down slightly and the conversation continued at a reasonable level.
“Ladies,” the driver gleamed a smile at them, “can you tell me where Greymalkin Lane is? Been up and down this road a couple of times now, and there’s no sign with that name on it.” He was oozing charm with his arm casually draped across the gigantic steering wheel of the dinosaur he was driving. He was definitely flirting with them, and Rogue knew it. It made her feel warm and gooey when his eyes met hers, since he wasn’t being stupid about it, and saying stupid things. A bright smile was all it took sometimes. And that twinkle in hazel eyes...
Hazel eyes? She looked him squarely in the face. Yep, hazel eyes. And wasn’t that just too much of a coincidence? Feeling Jubes poke her in the ribs again, Rogue took the cue and spoke up.
“We’re about to turn onto Greymalkin. The road sign was run over by a truck last week and the county crew hasn’t replaced it yet. It’s in the bushes somewhere in pieces.”
Hazel Man smiled at her again, and asked, “Is there a school on that road? We’re trying to find...” he fumbled through his pockets for something, but Rogue took the initiative.
“Who are you looking for?”
The other guy in the car spoke across the driver, adding, “Professor Charles Xavier. His school is the one we’re looking for. Do you know it?”
“Know it?” Jubes piped up, “That’s where we’re going. Who should I say is calling?”
This time it was Rogue’s turn to elbow Jubes. They weren’t supposed to bring people onto the school grounds unannounced and unattended, for security reasons.
“I’m Dean,” he hooked a thumb toward the passenger in the car. “This is my brother Sam. Our father was a friend of the Professor’s. We’re here on business. It’s been years since we’ve been out here, and we’ve sort of forgotten the lay of the land. Thanks for your help. See ya there.” And he threw a very decided wink and a grin at Rogue before cranking the wheel over and cutting in front of their car, throwing gravel as they blasted down the side road.
“He’s a pistol,” commented Jubes. “I want the other one. You can have the driver.”
“Jubilee!” Rogue chided her friend, then laughed for the first time that day as they followed the black car toward the school’s main gate. The two men had stopped at the gate and apparently been buzzed through by the time Jubilee and Rogue made the turn into direct view.
Rogue grimaced as the sedan rolled up the driveway in time for her to see the two men exit the black car and immediately meet with the witch, sweeping her into a 3-person, 6-armed hug that took Bryony off her feet as the two brothers swung her around. Apparently they were close friends.
Apparently she was friends with every hot man in the county.
Rogue checked her thoughts and drew a deep breath, mentally scolding herself for thinking nastiness about the woman she liked so well.
Logan descended the steps halfway, standing quietly but well above and obviously glaring at the two strangers, being his usual suspicious, territorial self. Rogue craned her head to see every last thing as Jubilee drove the car around to the back of the grounds and the entrance to the garage. Jubes reached out and patted Rogue’s cheek over her hair, forcing her to look away from the cluster of adults. Pulling into the parking slot, Jubilee quietly stated, “Don’t sweat it, chica. You know he’s not likely to settle down with anyone, anywhere, for a long, long time. He’s not the marrying kind. And as long as he isn’t married, you can’t be called a home-wrecker if you go after him with the intent to seduce.”
“He likes her,” Rogue breathed, then sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt, resigned to ride out the whole thing with some dignity intact. Then she shot Jubes a critical glance.
“Intent to seduce? You’ve been watching ‘Boston Legal’ re-runs again, haven’t you?”
“What can I say? Lawyers are hot. It’s the designer suits and silk ties, and the killer dialogue. Gotta love ‘em. Alan Shore may be a pudgy little Pillsbury dough-boy, but when he’s in full lawyer mode and ripping people to shreds with his rapier tongue, he’s lethally hot. Come on, let’s go see the hot young men in the foyer.”
“Is that all you think about?”
“That, and what kind of convertible I want next summer.”
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