Logan was driving the nondescript black Ford Focus, not his choice, on some back road in the middle of BFE, as the Jellybean kept saying every time they happened to pass a cow, when he felt the vehicle under him start to slow slightly before resuming its speed. He shrugged it off until, about another mile up, it did it again.
"Fuck no! This is not happening!" he growled as the engine chugged its last few inches before rocking to a stop and cutting out. He stabbed his finger into the glass over the gas gage, which still read half a tank, before rounding on the backseat. "Kitty find us a gas station since your phone dumped us out here. Figures One-eye would throw me in the only car in the bunch with a fucked gage." Snagging a cigar out of his jacket pocket, he stepped out of the car and lit it after biting off the tip. Sometimes he was pretty sure there was a bad luck stain preceding his every step because he always seemed to step into it. He huffed out some smoke and leaned over the top of the car, bracing his elbows before grabbing handfuls of his hair and using it to hold his head up. Keeping that position for a while in an attempt to calm his temper, he was feeling almost rational when the back door on the opposite side of the car opened. He glanced up at Jubes as she got out pointing, at another cow most likely, and shouted to the world in general, "I just want a Goddamn beer!"
"Well, I'm not exactly the beer fairy, but I think I might be able to help ya'll out with your other problem there, sugar," a husky, Blue Label voice drawled from about five feet behind him, the place Jubilee had been indicating. He spun on the spot, barely keeping the claws in check. He must have been really checked out mentally to not notice the sound or smell of a girl coming up behind him.
Eyes raked her over and he upgraded the estimation to young woman from girl, which felt just a titch too young. Regardless, she was a sexy little thing. She only came up to his chin but her dark jeans hugged curvy hips like they were painted on and the green gauzy long sleeve shirt she wore over a tank top fluttered in the breeze around her breasts, making him have to jerk his gaze back to her face when it wanted to linger too long. Who the hell wore long sleeves in this heat anyway? His white T-shirt was almost transparent with sweat from the sun. He saw straps over her shoulders, a duffel bag in her left hand and noticed one of those ear bud things in left ear. He caught a quick impression of large green eyes, pale as hell skin and slightly pouty lips as he turned his back on her again, assigning her the title of fucking hassle instead of threat, and snarled "Get outta here kid, we don't need no stinkin' help. We'll help ourselves just fine"
"Ya sure about that?" She stepped closer to him and bumped his side with her duffel, causing Jubilee's eyes widen at him across the roof. This chick had balls. "Where ya gonna go out here? Ain't nothing round for miles." He could swear her accent got more saturated and her voice deeper with every sentence. This lady was trying to use that southern belle crap to play him. He found himself slightly intrigued by her guts, but not enough so to take on all the drama that was sure to come from the obvious runaway.
"Get lost," he ground out through his teeth just as Kitty got out of the car next to Jubilee, eyes still on that monstrosity she called a phone.
"It's twenty miles from here to a gas station. Couldn't we have waited just one more mile on that highway? It would have put us basically on top of one. We need to work on your..." She halted herself when she noticed the fierce look in his eye and the tilt of his head towards the woman behind him. Kitty glanced at Jubes and both of them turned in unison, giving their backs to the stranger and Logan. He nodded slightly in approval that they girls had listened to his silent urging, maybe he could make it so they weren't as identifiable, before facing the woman.
He advanced on her one slow step at a time, hoping that she would turn tail, but the only reaction he got was a slight tightening in her core muscles. It figures a suicidal nutcase would find him in the middle of BFE (whatever the hell that phrase actually meant). His metal bones must put out a magnetic field to draw them in like hyenas to a carcass. "What makes you think you can help? You've got nothing but those bags and I know there ain't a gas can in either of 'em. Unless you want me to believe that that's what's tenting your shirt instead of breasts." He heard Jubes squeak as he shot a pointed look downward, "Stop wasting my fucking time."
Her accent was almost completely absent, earning her a raised eyebrow, when she seemed to make a split second decision to switch tactics. "You're right, I don't. What I have is knowledge of southerners. We'll help each other out. I find you gas, you get me the Hell out of Mississippi. You don't even have to take me all the way to New York." His eyes must have upped the danger threat to level orange because she quickly added, "I noticed the plates on the car. Nothing funny going on." She raised her hands, delicate fingers slightly spread as if they could convince him of her sincerity. "Now, I'll be right back. Watch my bag." She dropped her duffel and showing the utter lack of regard this girl seemed to have for her safety, began walking away from him through a field of waist high corn, weaponless and with the nape of her neck bared by a sweaty pulled up mass of hair.
If asked later by others none of them would admit it, but he and the girls definitely heard "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest..." which faded more and more as her distance from them grew. Logan turned to the wonder twins and raised both eyebrows this time. What the hell had they found?
Marie was shaking so much as she walked across the cornfield towards a distant barn that her footsteps probably looked like a drunks following a three-day bender. After gaining some ground she finally allowed herself to feel the fear that should have been paralyzing her when she was in front of that man. Sometimes, her mutation could be considered a blessing. It had forced her to learn to compartmentalize the different personalities in her head (only four thank god), which had in turn allowed her to be able lock up emotions so she didn't even feel them. Like her collection, the emotions didn't stay in check for long but the ability did occasionally come in handy. Shoring up her courage with some good old English, she talked herself out of some of the fear and into brainstorming. That line about southerners had been complete bull. She mentally patted herself on the back for quick thinking but concentrated on her next problem. Where the hell would someone put a gas can? It made sense that the owners would have full ones somewhere because all types of equipment on a farm would use the fuel.
She crept up on the door of the barn, eyes constantly moving in search of someone who would object to her trespassing, but the cows didn't seem too interested in her presence. Seeing no one, she tried opening the door of the barn only to find it wouldn't budge. After studying the doors, she noticed that there was a padlock on the bottom of the each by the sliders, stopping the wheels from rotating. So, upside, everyone appeared to be gone. Downside, they locked up before leaving.
Frowning, Marie began walking the whole way around the weatherworn structure, looking for other entranceways or a loose board that she might be able to squeeze through, hearing the seconds tick away her dreamed-up time limit. At some point, that man was either going to come after her (she was pretty sure he hadn't been happy to have her around and would want to know what she was up to) or he was going to get fed up and walk off looking for his own fuel, leaving her stranded like before. She needed this ride, therefore, she needed this gas because the traffic was barely a mere trickle in this area.
Returning to the start of her trek, she looked towards the house, wondering if a window or something may have been left open, granting her entrance to search for the key to the padlocks. She was about to head that way when she noticed that someone had left the door to the hayloft open and part of the rope connected to the pulley system hung over the door was only twelve feet in the air. This was totally doable. She quickly changed her CD from Bach to the 'Mission Impossible' soundtrack, singing out loud to herself during the few seconds of silence, before dropping her backpack to the ground. Searching the surrounding area and finding a suitable rock about the size of her fist, she grabbed her 6ft. tube scarf out of her bag and tied a knot in one end. The rock went in the other and she slid it down to the knot, tying another to keep it in place. Now for the fun part.
Swinging the scarf around in circles, she attempted to fling the weighted end over the bend in the rope and pull it down towards her, having to dodge out of the way when she misjudged the angle. "Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season. When in the why and the wherefore is neither rhyme nor reason?" she quoted, starting the rotation of the scarf once again. This time, her release was perfect, hooking the lowest part of the rope so she could haul the rest of it down out of the hayloft. She unknotted her scarf, dumped the rock and climbed the rope to swing herself in, leaving the backpack sitting at the bottom as silent testimony of her passage.
She squinted in the dim light and used her hands to feel her way over the few small bales that were left over from the winter months. Finding the ladder and scrambling down it only took a minute. Then she was amongst tractors and other pieces of machinery that she had no name for but were clearly the reason behind the secured door. There was easily tens of thousands of dollars of equipment just waiting for someone to take if they felt the need. Fortunately, for the sake of her conscience and the owner's pocketbook, she was in the market for something a little less expensive.
Marie wandered around the barn, climbing onto tractors and over what might have been a hay baler, before literally stumbling over a saddle that someone had carelessly left on the floor. In the process of picking herself off the ground, she spotted her quarry. She dusted off her jeans and strode over to the corner of the barn opposite from the ladder, grabbing one of the four five-galleon gas cans then switching it for the next in line when the first felt half empty. Digging in her pocket, she produced a twenty-dollar bill and left it in the spot for the owner. It made her feel better and maybe it would stop him from being so pissed that someone had magically gotten into his secured barn. She smirked at the thought of his headache and headed back towards the ladder before a loud bang on the door almost made her drop the can and run for a hiding spot.
"You in there kid?" directly followed the noise and she was glad to realize it was the voice of the man from the car instead of a stranger. Some people had a disturbing tendency to shoot trespassers before asking questions. She took a deep breath, "Yeah. And I was successful." Would that appease him and excuse the amount of time she had taken? Though she was kinda proud of herself for pinning this guy's character, something about him had screamed he would come after her, she had also inferred that he was not a patient man.
"Get your ass out here!" he yelled through the door, sounding more annoyed with each word. Great. Now she had a deal with Mr. Grouchy. She tripped her way up the ladder. Maybe walking wouldn't be so bad idea after all.
Who the hell was this kid? He thought, pacing next to her bag outside of the barn. He had no clue how she'd gotten in but she'd better come out soon or he was getting in his way. Something about this chick just rubbed him wrong. It didn't make sense that a pretty girl her age would be out in the middle of nowhere trying to hitch. Also, why was she so desperate to leave that she'd willingly broken in to someone else's property? She didn't strike him as a thief or as the type to get herself in trouble. He shook his head. They'd give her a ride and that would be that. Trade favors. Then they could get the hell out of the fucking south and he could get some peace and quiet because he didn't need any more crazy in his life.
"Stop thinkin' so hard sugar. Gonna melt in this heat." He heard dripping from above his head. Son of a bitch. Maybe this girl wasn't as dumb as he thought. She had the gas can hanging from the baling hook and she was standing on it, walking the rope through her hands to lower herself to the ground. When the can was about a foot up, she jumped to the ground and grabbed it off the hook before bending over to sling her bag over her shoulder. "I go, and it is done," she proclaimed, like it made any sense and started walking back towards the road. He picked his jaw up from somewhere around his knees and started trudging after her, grabbing the can out of her hands which, finally showing some proper fear, she practically threw at him when he go too close. He took the lead, oddly somewhat mad that she was afraid of him, and didn't even check if she was following. Fuck if he knew what was going on with her, but he just didn't care.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this. I'm glad you like it. It's my baby now and I rock the bunny to sleep every night so it will be nicer to me when I try to write. Sometimes it doesn't work. And now, I'll turn off the crazy faucet and go to sleep, which I should have done a long time ago. Happy reading!
Chapter End Notes:
I live off reviews. Feed the beast. Kiss Kiss!
Three quotes in this one! Oh my.
"Once more unto the breach dear friends..."-Henry V
"Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season..."- Comedy of Errors
"I go, and it is done."- MacBeth
Three quotes in this one! Oh my.
"Once more unto the breach dear friends..."-Henry V
"Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season..."- Comedy of Errors
"I go, and it is done."- MacBeth