FRIGHTENING THE HORSES
DISCLAIMER: I make no money from this, but I don't care too much for money, beacuse money can't buy me claws.
Chapter One: The Love You Make Is Equal to the Love You Take
Alkali Lake. Night
I: Rogue
Rogue didn't sleep in the Blackbird, with John and Bobby, and she didn't sleep in the encampment.
At least, not just yet.
She went off into the woods.
Once, it seemed like a thousand years ago, she had lived in a shack in a swamp much less hospitable than this pristine wilderness, by her wits and with the aid of an old 12-gauge.
Besides, she was a feral, now, had been for a long time.
So, the woods didn't scare her.
What scared her was the encampment.
Rogue lived a double life that was like walking a tightrope.
The secret was not to look down or look back.
But, with both parts of that life convering in one encampment, she could feel the rope unraveling beneath her feet.
"There you are, Marie."
And then it snapped.
"Ah have not forgiven you, yet. Erik."
"Haven't you? I had the opportunity to take a good look at Mitchell Laurio's dead body. Someone had very recently given him a very serious beating. And they carved a big, bloody "X" on his chest. In triplicate. I don't think it was Logan who felt it was necessary to avenge me."
"I did it out of duty. Not out of forgiveness."
"Rogue, has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I have never forgiven you? I saved you. I trained you. You were my heir apparent. You could have been the best and brightest of the Brotherhood. I don't know what I find more insulting. That you threw over the Brotherhood for that hairy little man, or that you threw me over for him."
"Do you think that little of me? That I would throw away mah whole life, the only life ah ever knew, the only family ah ever had for Logan's cock?"
Magneto's face flushed, and she knew it hurt him, for her to speak to him that way, but Rogue was glad; right now she wanted to hurt him, without really knowing why.
He recovered his poise, quickly.
"Well, considering you risked your physical well being for a certain other mutant, on a regular basis, yes."
Rogue considered taking her gloves off before she slapped him, but she didn't.
"I'm not trying to purposely insult you. I'm just trying to show you what a convoluted young woman you've become. You're such a believer in Charles' dream that you carve an "X" for X-Men in a man's flesh, but this is a man you beat and terrorized to the point of death for the sake of my well-being, and I am Charles' dream's worst enemy. Not to mention that if Charles knew that you attacked Laurio, he would have probably drummed you out of his school, but you risked everything for me, anyway. And still, you claim that you haven't forgiven me? As if that's all- important. And finally, you go proclaiming your undying love for Logan while he's in love with another woman and you know it, and you're most likely in love with another man. You don't know what you want, anymore, do you?"
"You're trying to trip me up by making simple things sound convoluted. Ah know what I believe in."
Magneto laughed.
"Believe? You don't believe in anything, Rogue. You think you do, but that fact of the matter is, you're still too young to know which side of the playpen smells the best. Still, I don't blame you for choosing the X-Men. I can see why Wolverine's stuck with them, too. Three squares a day. A room of your own. With private bath, no less. Steady work. Limited federal interference. All things I can't offer you. At least, I hope those are your motivations. Because if you've fallen in love with Wolverine, you're barking up the wrong mutant. He's head over heels for Jean Grey. If you're extremely lucky, he's not thinking of her while he's making love to you. But, then again, considering we both know who you're thinking of when you're with him, it doesn't matter, does it?"
"Why don't you go to hell, Erik! You're an evil old man, full of lies!"
"No. I am an evil old man full of truths. This has gone far enough, Rogue. I am not some stranger in the street. And neither is Raven. You are a grown woman, I will not ask you to give up either of your men. But, when you have graduated from the X-Institute, I want you to come home, while you attend university. You are too young to make the decisions you are making, and far too young to be living with a man who is older than me. Do you imagine that Logan isn't an evil old man? He's a lot older than I am. And he's killed many, many, many more times than I have. And he's your new mentor? Your new love? You can get that at home. From someone…whose name I will not mention."
Rogue put her face in her hands.
She still wasn't sure if Erik had really meant to sacrifice her life for the good of mutantkind on Liberty Island, or if she believed his protestations that he knew she was a feral, at the time.
But she did know that he had no right to cast aspersions on Logan.
Logan was a gentleman with her; he treated her like a lady. They have been travelling together for, well, it had to be a couple of months before she finally got him to roll over.
But it wasn't just rolling over for Logan; what they did in the bed in that cabin cemented things between them.
It made her his woman, and even if it was Jean Grey he loved; Rogue didn't care.
Logan was passionate, and protective, tender and territorial, brutal and benevolent; she was his in that old-time, old-West, grimy-faced and grim Man With No Name sort of way.
And he was hers.
He saved her life, he imprinted his powers on her, he gave her his dog tags when he went away and she never doubted his promise to come back.
Logan never use his rooms at the X-Mansion until she came, and made them a home for him.
He slept in her bed and she slept in his arms, and lived with and through his nightmares.
She washed his clothes and fixed his meals and picked up his beer cans, and he watched over her, protected her, made love to her every night with all that made him an animal and all that made him a man.
He was her lover, and her friend, and her teacher, and they fought together side by side.
They could depend on each other.
Erik could never understand that.
"Love is for morons, Erik. Morons, idiots, fools, and stupid little girls. What Logan and I have together, is a whole hell of a lot stronger than love. I have to go. He's waiting."
"Marie-"
"He's waiting."
Erik grabbed her arm.
Where it was bare.
"Don't!" she insisted.
She could see the pain in his face, but he would not loosen his grasp.
"Please!"
"Do you want me to suffer for the mistakes I made? I'll do it. I will endure any pain for you, Mraie. Pass any test. Please. You can't live like this forever. Will you at least consider coming home?"
"I will."
Erik let her go, and Rogue turned around and ran back towards the campsite.
II: Logan
Logan lay in his tent, bristling from Mystique's advances towards him.
He felt guilty, about Jeannie, angry at himself, and he was wondering where the fuck Rogue was.
He'd laughed it off, Drake saying he was Rogue's boyfriend; after all she had to play it some way; the students didn't know that she was with him.
Chuck said that would set up a bad example.
A bad example.
Right.
But, what if she was?
They never had more than a minute alone since he got back.
He was so lost in thought he didn't know she was coming until she unzipped the tent, and came in, sniffing the air with distaste.
"Well, that tears it. This is officially one of the worst nights of mah life. Ah wish Mama and ah didn't have the same taste in men." she sighed.
She zipped the tent, and started taking off her clothes, folding them, and putting them beside Logan's.
"You didn't, Logan, did you?"
"Raven came here sniffin' around for somethin', darlin'. But she didn't get it."
Logan unzipped the sleeping bag, and Rogue crawled inside it, with him.
"Ah just want this day to end, Logan."
He held her close against his chest and she breathed the scent of him in, deeply, and sighed.
"Didja miss me, darlin'?"
"Did ah? With you gone, ah had to carry on like ah was nothin' but a little schoolgirl. With alla those boys. Why, even without mah powers, it would have killed poor Bobby if ah let mahself loose on him. The things a girl has to go through, to get a high school diploma."
Wolverine laughed, and his laugh rumbled through his chest.
"You ain't far from it, Rogue. Why, you must be all of 19, by now. Shit, I'm a horrible man. I've got no business being with a pretty young girl like you. Fuck, I'm so short, you're an inch or so taller'n me. No neck. Like a ball sittin' on top of a barrel. Not to mention I'm hairy as a bear an' I'm old enough to be your grandfather's grandfather. What d'you want with a man like me?"
"Are you fishin' for complements, Logan? Alright, then. You're smarter than people think you are, an' you're a fine, strong, decent man, like the way I was brought up to think a man should be. An' ah think you're good-lookin'. You may not be pretty, but a man ain't supposed to be pretty. Except your eyes. You got the most beautiful blue eyes. An' you may be short, sugah, but you've got a hell of a body on you. An' then, there's that part of you which I am too much of a lady to mention."
"That the part you missed the most?" he chuckled.
"I missed all of you, Logan. Night's passin' us quick. An' who knows what's gonna happen, tomorrow? Ah don't wanna talk, anymore."
"Me neither."
Somewhere in Canada. Winter. About 18 months before Alkali Lake.
Rogue stood, rather calmly, at the edge of the chain link cage in which Logan was taking quite a beating from a man who was easily seven feet tall.
He was also giving the man quite a beating, and Rogue knew that eventually he would win.
She also knew that whatever the big, drunken beast did to him, he'd be healed from it by the time he was done counting his five hundred dollars.
Five hundred dollars is a lot of money.
She was warm, at least, in the ugly clothes she had brought with her.
But still, she shivered a little, even though under her parka and on top of her sweater she was buttoned into one of Logan's plaid flannel shirts, this one with a quilted lining.
It was so cold, and she was unused to this kind of cold, even the cold in winters in New York City that she only had to feel when she left Erik's brownstone, chilled her to the bone.
Rogue had left Erik's brownstone for the last time about a month and a half, ago, and had spent the last month with Logan.
But they were always out.
There was no in.
She lived with him in the back of his truck.
Logan had no reason to let her stay with him, he had no reason to want to keep her around, and no reason to care if she lived or died, or look after her, but he had done all of those things.
Cold gnawed at Rogue's bones, and hunger at her guts; she hadn't eaten for a day or two, and Logan hadn't eaten for longer; he said it didn't bother him.
She had begged him not to take this fight, but, he explained, with five hundred dollars they could buy supplies and food, and they'd have enough gas money to get the truck to a cabin high on a mountain near the little town of Howlett, British Columbia, where another man named Logan would not turn them away.
But, despite his stoicism and his adamantium skeleton, despite his healing factor and his sense of honor, Logan was still a man, a human being, and it had to bother him.
The cold, and the hunger, and the gnawing uncertainty over what the next day might bring.
Not to mention pain.
And that was why Rogue didn't feel bad at all about sticking two fingers in through the chain link, and touching Logan's opponent on his bare ankle, above the top of his sock.
Rogue had little control over her power, but, if she concentrated, she found she could focus it.
And she focused it on harming Logan's opponent.
The man gasped, and stiffened, Rogue moved her hand and Logan knocked him cold.
Calmly, Rogue took off her gloves when the bar owner refused to pay Logan.
Just as calmly, she unbuttoned the second button on his shirt and put one finger over his heart.
"If ah put mah whole haind down, you're dead. Why don't you just pay the man?" she suggested.
The bar owner paid up, and between Logan's claws and both of her outstretched, ungloved hands, they made it out to the truck.
Logan must have drove fifty miles until he went off the road, down into the snowy brush a little, and stopped the car.
"You didn't have to do that, darlin'."
Somewhere along the ride, Logan had stopped calling her "kid" and started calling her "darlin'"
That was as much as she could get out of him, even though she had discovered that she could touch him without any harm, mental or physical, coming to him.
Unlike most other humans, mutant or otherwise, on the planet.
"Yes ah did, Logan. I'm not just some dumb little girl. Ah was being groomed to for the Brotherhood. Ah can take mah share of tough."
"I know you can. I just don't want you to."
"Why? Because I'm just a girl."
"No. Because you're my girl."
He climbed into the back of the truck, where the sleeping bags and the pillows and the blankets were.
"I am? Really? I would have thought ah was like a little sister to you." Rogue complained, crawling into the back with him.
"It's not just rolling over to me, darlin'. Not to you, either. Besides, this ain't no place for romance."
They settled in under the layers of blankets and the two sleeping bags.
Back to back.
After Logan fell asleep, Rogue usually turned over to hug him, and sometimes, while he was sleeping, he'd roll over, too, and she'd wake up snuggled against his chest.
That was always nice.
It was how she had discovered her touch wouldn't harm him.
Waking up one morning with her face half against his chest and half-against his undershirt, with his arms around her.
And he was just fine.
"You always tell me that. What the hell do you mean?"
"I mean you're a good girl. A lady. A real, genuine lady. Where I come from, the way I was raised, a man doesn't treat a lady like a whore. And your people raised you to be a lady, an' I'm gonna treat you like one. That don't include screwin' you in the back of a truck."
Rogue didn't try and disagree with him.
"Well, then, can we use some of that money to get a hotel room?"
"No. Not until I get you home."
Home.
That was a strange word, coming from Logan.
"Did you grow up there?"
"Pa says I did. I don't remember much. What I do remember is the good parts about the place. When I was a boy. When Pa showed me what I was, and how to survive, up in those woods. When I lived there with Victor, and he was lookin' after me, all those years Pa was on the lam. I know there were bad parts, but I don't recall them. And Pa never told me. It's better that way. I just get a feelin' when I go there. Maybe it ain't my home, but it's the closest thing I got. An' when I say that, I mean the closest thing we got."
Rogue knew the rest of Logan's plan.
He was going to spend the winter at his father's cabin, working at the logging camp, and in the spring he was going to take her to New York.
To the X-Institute.
Rogue had come to long for something like a normal life.
To finish high school, and go to college, and then?
Well, something other than being in the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants.
It seemed like a dream come true, but she didn't want to go if he couldn't stay with her.
"Logan, what if they won't accept that…you've retired?"
"They'll have to. Charlie never turns a mutant away. I can do a lot of things, darlin'. I'm sure there'll be a job for me for a coupla years."
"As an X-Man?"
"Fuck no! I'll never put on a uniform again. I told you, I'm done with that .The goddam world can fuck itself, I ain't savin' it no more. I mean a real job. There's lot of jobs a man like me can do. Fixin' cars. Groundskeepin'. Maintenance. I got a pilot's license too. An' u used to own a bar, back in the day. I think. Hell, there's a town nearby, they know the old Canucklehead there, I'll get me a job, or buy some dump, get an apartment. Have a normal life. You can tell the team I said hello. Drop in and see me. But I ain't goin back an' puttin' that uniform on. Not me. Fuck that. Ship sailed. All I need's a steady paycheck, an' a roof over my head, in a quiet life where nobody's chasin me an' tryna kill me. If I hafta, I'll cook burgers an' corndogs for the kiddies in the kitchen."
"You're too good for that kind of work, sugah."
"Rogue, my Pa was born in 1760, in a god-forsaken shack in a backwater bog in Ireland. He left home at 15 an' joined the British army, an' he fought all over the world in every army you can think of in every war from 1775 until 1865. That's when he retired to that mountain, first to become a groundskeeper for Squire Howlett, an' after Pa ran off with his wife an made me, to become a logger an' a mountain man. He was about the same age I am when he got out of the savin' the world business, an' he's told me the last 110 years of his life have been a damn sight better than the first. That, and in a war, even men like us die. I got no plans to die. I'd like to live to see two hundred. So, I'm done. The only world I wanna save is mine. An' yours. Now, get your hand outa my back pocket, an' go to sleep."
"And it's got nothing to do with Dr. Grey's marriage?"
Logan's body stiffened.
"That was just the cherry onna fuckin' cake. I said to go to sleep."
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The next day, Logan drove them in the general direction of civilization.
When they passed a mini-mall with a thrift store, a drugstore and a McDonalds in it, he parked the truck.
He gave Rogue fiftyy dollars.
"Get yourself a coupla shirts like the one I gave you. An' get three for me, I don't care what color they are, as long as they're the right size. An' if they have an M-65 jacket in there in size extra large, short, buy it. You need anything in the drugstore?"
"Yes. A package of socks. Women's socks. And two packages of panties. Size 6. Ah am not wearin' used socks an' underwear. Also, in…six days, I'll be needing some…personal supplies."
"What? Oh, ya mean tampons, or pads? I'll get both, what the hell. They got a nurse or somethin' inna back of these joints. You better go in and get them to refill your pills."
"Logan!"
Rogue was actually shocked.
"What? Most of the time I been alive, darlin', I've tried to keep a woman around. I know the drill."
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Rogue wanted to buy some pretty things, but she took Logan's advice.
She bought herself some flannel pyjamas.
And they had the jacket Logan was looking for.
She was left with five dollars change.
Outside, she folded everything, took off the tags, and packed Logan's stuff into his duffel bag, and her things into hers.
She loaded it all into the back of the truck, using the extra key Logan gave her.
She walked over to the Shoppers Drug Mart.
Up and down the aisles, she couldn't find Logan, but spotted him in the back, where the clinic was, with a plastic bag on the seat next to him.
"You're next." He told her.
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"You can pick up your prescription at the front counter, Miss Lehnsherr."
The doctor looked concerned.
He was a small, round, middle-aged man, balding, with a moustache, a kind face, and laugh lines around a pair of soft brown eyes.
He had an accent that wasn't Canadian, it sounded English, Rogue thought.
"Is there something you're not asking me, doctor?"
"Yes, actually. You look awfully disheveled, and awfully thin. I see you have a New York driver's license, and that your address is in New York City. It also tells me that you are awfully young. Just because you're a mutant, that doesn't mean that you have to live this kind of life. This man who made your appointment, did he take you away from your home? I can help you. I'll call the police, and they'll make sure you get back to your family, safe."
Rogue was touched by the doctor's genuine concern.
"Thank you, Doctor. But I have no family. My parents are dead, and my aunt threw me out of the house when ah I was just 13. I met a man from New York, named Lehnsherr who took me in. He adopted me. But ah have recently discovered that mah father was not the man I thought he was. He was not a good man, and what he had planned for me was downright evil. So ah left him. The man who brought me here, he is a good man. He does have my best interests at heart. Come spring, he's going to take me to a school, back in New York, where they give people like me a chance at a normal life. Please, don't call the police. You'll be sending me back to hell."
"But that man whose name you took, he should be arrested? Don't you realise what he did to you?"
"He's a worse man than you can know. But there was nothing like that. You should stay away from him, doctor. Forget you ever met me, or your family will never see you again. And yes, I know that what he did was wrong." Rogue said, softly.
The doctor, of course, was implying that Erik was a child molester, but he would never do something like that to her.
Erik was a twisted man, but not that twisted.
And he'd had a terrible life.
He was kind to her, he took care of her, he was her Papa, and he loved her.
He was probably terribly worried about her, right now.
Perhaps it didn't matter if he was grooming her for a terrible fate.
In his mind, they were both making the ultimate sacrifice for the good of mutantkind.
Let someone else pass judgment on Papa; Rogue just wanted to get on with her life.
II: Logan
Logan owed Rogue a lot.
Perhaps even his life.
He wasn't sure how long he had been living the way he was.
A drunken, homeless drifter who neither knew nor cared where he was, as long as there was a drink there for him, and when he thought of it, a woman who wasn't too picky to share it with.
He realized he was trying to drink himself to death, which was going to be a difficult thing, but he was a determined man.
A few times, he had nearly achieved his goal.
And then he found her, sleeping in the back of his truck, wrapped around that big army green duffle bag with the wheels on the bottom.
She was cold, and hungry, and lost, and right from the start she clung to him like he was a life preserver and she was drowning.
Almost right from the start, he clung to her the same way.
She might have been lost, but not terrified.
There was strength in her, great strength that came from great hardship, and she bore the life they led with resolve and quiet dignity.
Rogue was quite a woman; and she was the kind of woman who didn't go dying on you, that was for sure.
She made him want to turn his life around, to have a life, and even if all he did with that life was to protect her, maybe even love her, that would be good enough.
It was something to live for, and he hadn't had that since Jeannie married Cyke.
And with Rogue, there was something. Something in her clam, stoic, abiding green eyes that spoke to him, right in his soul.
Of course, he had known for a long time that she wasn't telling him everything.
He knew she came from Magneto, and he knew that his brother was Magneto's right hand mutant, so he let that explain to him why the smell of Victor Creed clung to her.
But she once asked him to get an extra blanket for them out of her duffel bag, and when he opened it; the whole thing was permeated with Victor, like they were his things, and not Rogue's.
He looked at the way the duffel was packed, the duffel, itself, and the clothes and supplies that were in it, and the way they were arranged.
Heavy, practical clothes, survival supplies, right down to the snub-nosed, nickel-plated Colt revolver that she kept strapped to her ankle all the time, except when she was sleeping.
The cartridges were even packed in a military-grade waterproof pouch.
He realized that Victor had bought the bag, and the clothes, and the supplies, and he had carefully packed it for her.
Packed it for her and sent her to the Great White North.
And probably told her to find his brother.
Needing more information, Logan looked in her wallet while she was sleeping.
Rogue's real name was Marie Lehnsherr, and if that was the legal name on her New York driver's license, that meant that Magneto had adopted her.
He was her father, not her boyfriend.
It didn't take mental gymnastics to figure out who the boyfriend might have been.
Shorty after making his discoveries, while they were eating at a greasy spoon, Logan told Rogue he was going to the john, but went to the back of the diner they were in to use the pay phone.
"Hello? Jimmy, is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me. What the fuck is going on? Are you tryin' to fuck me even harder than I already been fucked?"
"You're fucked? You're fucked! You wanna talk fucked, little brother? I am fucked. I am triple-monkey fucked. I'll tell you what's goin' on. I fucked up, that's what. I fucked up everything."
Victor sounded incredibly drunk.
Logan realized, with stupid belatedness, that was because Victor he was going through the same thing he was.
Rogue, Jeus H. Christ, she was Victor's woman.
"Jesus, Vic, I can't do this to you. Not even you, you son of a bitch. If you feel the way I felt, all these years…fuck, you're still my brother. Why? I mean what the fuck is going on with you packing up your woman, and sending her to me? Because I think she's gettin' attached to me. And I'm gettin' attached to her. I don't wanna do this shit a second time. Worse, I don't want to do to you what's been done to me." Sabretooth laughed, in an ugly way.
"So, you remember you're my brother, huh? Takes a woman to remind you of that, Jimmy? That's alright. Stripe, she's quite a woman. It ain't like that dog and pony show with your red-headed doctor. You're not doin' shit to me. You're doin'somethin' for me. Like a brother should. I told her to forget about me, Jimmy. Just take care of her, alright? Get her to Chuck X's school. Make sure she gets to have a fucking life. I want you to take over where I left off."
"Why, Vic?"
"Like you said. You're my brother, Jimmy. My baby brother. You're the one who's still pissed off at me. I got over it a long time ago. I trust you."
"What if you decide to quit being so fuckin' noble, an' you want her back? Then what?"
Victor laughed.
"Then I guess we share and share alike. Like we did in the old days. Before you started putting frails before me. Me, your goddamn flesh and blood. Who was practically a father to you."
Logan let that one go.
He leaned against the phone.
"What did you do, Victor? What did Magneto do?"
"Nothin' yet. That's the thing."
"Because, yunno, Vic, I might just be in love with that girl."
"It ain't hard to do, Jimmy. I was hopin' you would be. That way I know, you'll keep her safe. I can't keep her safe, anymore. Fuck, I never could. And if I could keep her safe from the world, she'd never be safe from me. So, I'm goin, now, Jimmy. For once in your life, just do what I ask you to do. Okay?"
Abruptly, Victor hung up the phone.
Logan just looked at it.
He and Victor, they had a tendency to go for the same kind of girls, and girls who liked Victor usually liked him, and vice versa.
When they were just kids, they almost killed each other over a woman a couple of times, until they decided, what the hell, we're brothers, we share and share alike.
That had worked out pretty well, until Logan really fell in love with a girl.
Now it was Victor who had really fallen in love, and Logan was pretty sure he was following in his brother's footsteps.
Now, either Victor really didn't have feelings like any other man did, or he was sacrificing something precious, all the more precious to him, because of the kind of man he was.
Logan's resolve, and his feelings for Rogue both strengthened.
Come Hell or high water, he would see her safely to Charlie and the X-Institute.
And, as for him?
Well, it was about time for him to quit running and hiding and crying like a little bitch, and face the music.
Take it like a man.
He came back, and slid into the booth across from Rogue.
She had looked desperately unhappy, sitting there, by herself, but her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he came and sat with her.
He understood.
He knew that loving Victor was a hard thing to do, and that in the end it brought you nothing but pain and misery.
He knew that when you were out from under the influence of bad men who were good to you, out in the same world with everybody else, how new and bright and clean it looked.
And how devoted you were to the person who pulled you out of the hole.
She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
"You hungry, darlin'?"
"Starved."
"Well, get whatever you want. My credit's good, here."
Howlett Logging Company, Canadian Rockies. Near Howlett, British Columbia.
I: Tom
Thomas "Old Black Tom" Logan threw his axe and his chainsaw into the back of his worn yet still reliable 1950 Ford F2 pickup.
As a man who was 240, he didn't think keeping a car for 50 years was anything unusual, and besides, the newer models weren't superior, all made of plastic, they were.
He sniffed the air and looked at the heavily falling snow, and put the chains on his tires.
Then he started the truck, and went back into the office.
Black Tom always gave the truck about ten minutes to run, in this bad weather.
His boss had a funny look on his face, sitting behind his desk, staring at the phone.
"Tom, it's your son. It's Jimmy."
The last time anybody at Howlett Logging heard from Jimmy was 1985.
Not a long time for Black Tom and his son, but quite some time for most people.
"Well, gi'me the phone! Jimmy, you little bastard, I been lookin' all over for you! I thought you was sure to die, and so did your people in New York."
"I thought I might have too. Pop, you think they need another logger this winter?"
"They sure do? I know ye've hit hard times, Jimmy lad. Ya looked awful last time I sawr yer. Awful an;' drunk. And close to death."
"I hit bottom, Pa. I was makin' money on cage fights."
"But you met a woman, an' she's made you want ter turn yer life around, an' you want to spend the winter workin' so's you can take yourselves someplace, an' have a decent life. Right?"
"I guess you've heard this before, huh, Pa?"
"I have, Jimmy. But it's a good idea every time. Did you get smart and pick somebody like us this time? Somebody your brother can't hurt?"
There was a pause on the line, like he was looking both ways.
"More like somebody my brother won't hurt."
"So you found her, huh?"
"I did. He did quite a number on her head, Pa. It might just be worse havin' Victor love you than hate you."
"It's been worse on you, hasn't it, Jimmy, lad? Why the fuck are ye whispering? Speak up, I'm in the office of a loggin' camp, not the powder room of a cathouse!"
Tom heard another voice.
"That's right, Logan. Ah know all about you and Victor. You keep it a secret. He doesn't."
"Darlin', I only got so much time on this pay phone."
"Well, alright. I'll be in the McDonalds. Havin' everythin' with a side of everythin' else."
"She sounds young, Jimmy. An' Southern. You an' a little Southern belle? Who can kill a man as just by touchin' him? Tough enough to run with the Brotherhood? You're gettin' smarter as you get older, lad. I'll be waitin' for you. How's the truck?"
"Lousy."
"Don't worry. We'll get it up to the camp, and you an me an' the lads, we'll fix her. You done the deed to the girl yet?"
"Pa!"
"Well, don't. If you're gonna put all your eggs in her basket, puttin' the boots to her in the back of that old rustbucket don't exactly say that you're in it for the long haul."
"I figured that out, Pa."
"Good."
Black Tom's Logan's homestead. Canadian Rockies. Near Howlett, BC
III: Rogue
For the past three miles up the winding mountain road, Rogue had literally been praying, silently, that Logan's ailing truck would make it.
As they rumbled off the rough road onto a narrow gravel path, their visibility almost zero due to the relentlessly falling snow, Rogue began praying out loud.
She was surprised Logan knew the words, but he would, wouldn't he?
He was born into a far more religious time than she was.
Rogue had her eyes shut tight, and she was prepared for the eventuality of the horrible crash, hoping that Logan could impart his healing factor to her to prevent her from being permanently maimed or crippled.
The truck stalled and slipped backwards down the road.
For some reason, Rogue waited for Logan to scream before she did.
They ended up in a snowbank.
"Are ya hurt, Rogue?"
"Marie, Logan. My real name is Marie Lehnsherr."
"So, Magneto's your father? I kinda figured that."
Rogue bit her lip.
Victor Creed did not make it general knowledge that Logan was his brother; he had told Rogue because they had become…close.
Erik had adopted her, legally, he was her father, and he had certainly never made an improper advance to her.
Rogue's lover in the Brotherhood had been another man that her touch couldn't harm.
Victor Creed.
She had gone to Canada looking for the mysterious "Jimmy", the good and decent version of the man she had taken to her bed, in the hopes he could protect her, that he would want to.
She never really expected to find him, and she never really expected to come to care for him so deeply, and every time she went to tell him the truth, she thought about how Logan was using her as a cornerstone to build his new life on, just as she was with him, and the words stuck in her throat.
But, as Logan coaxed the truck to start again, and gingerly pulled it out of the snowbank and began their ascent, again, she felt a pang of mortal terror.
I have to tell him.
I can't die with this on my conscience.
"Logan, ah have to tell you something. You've got it all wrong. Erik adopted me, he's my father, as if he'd been there the day I was born. There was never anything improper between us. He might be a megalomaniac, but he's not a monster."
Logan pulled the truck over into the brush, and opened his door.
"We're gonna hafta hike up the rest of the way. Truck won't go without killin' us. Me an Pa will hafta use his truck to tow it up, after the storm's over. I got your duffel, you just worry about the backpack. So, if it wasn't Magneto, why'd you let me think it was?"
Rogue cursed herself.
She had literally spoken to soon.
Wildly, her mind reached for any lie, but there really was no use.
"Logan, I came to Canada looking for you. My father wanst to kill me. And he..he said you could protect me. You and Professor Xavier, and the X-Men."
Logan sighed, heavily.
"And by he, I s'pose you mean my sunnuvabitch brother."
"I'm sorry, Logan. Ah am. But ah never thought I'd meet a man, any man that could touch me without my killing him. Ah couldn't even touch mah own father's hand without wearin' gloves. An' I trusted Victor, because he worked for mah father. Ah had no idea the kind of man he was. It didn't bother me, knowin' he couldn't love me. Not the way another man could. Ah knew that love wasn't something Victor is capable of. What we did have was good enough. But he would always talk about you. I couldn't help but think that you were a far better man than he was. Mah father found out, about Victor and I, and d he was furious. I won't even tell you what he did to Victor, no matter how much you hate him, he's still your brother, and you wouldn't want to know. Tortured him. With hot metal. And fire. It took him Three months to recover, and after that Papa, Magneto, you know, suspended him from the Brotherhood for a year. He said if Victor ever touched me again, he'd kill him. Of course, he sat me down and told me, in great and terrible detail, what kind of a man Victor is. I was appalled. Ah still am. But somehow, it didn't seem to matter. Victor came back to me as soon as he was able, and I begged Papa to at least let him go back to being my bodyguard, I swore to him that Victor and ah were through. But I was lyin'. Ah loved Victor. Ah suppose ah still do. But it was so hard to love him, it's almost like now it's a weight off my shoulders,. And it's been so easy for me to fall in love with you, Logan, Ah do love you. You have to believe me. An don't hate me. Please."
She looked at Logan and saw that he was smiling.
Grimly.
"You knew, didn't you?"
"Yup."
"For how long?"
"Month. A little more, maybe."
"Oh, Logan! You must think I'm an awful whore!" She cried.
"Why? Marie, I'm Victor's baby brother. Most of the memories I do have, he's in them. From the time I was, 12, or somethin', Victor raised me like he was my father, not my brother. Hell, even when I was a grown man, a young man, though, I thought Victor was just about the smartest man in the world. He said the way it was and I believed him. Of course, as time went on I started seeing how nobody else agreed with him, and his way of lookin' at the world, and I realized, neither did I. Still, even after I renounced him, and I lost most of my memories, it took me awhile to get out from under the shadow of my brother. And when I got out in the light, it just about blinded me. And then, like a fool, I went and fell in love with the person who showed me how the other half lived. I couldn't help it. I clung to her like a drowning man clings to a piece of driftwood. And when she made it plain to me I wasn't the man she loved, well, I lost my mind. It nearly killed me. Then, I met you. The good news for you, darlin' is you can go right ahead and cling to me. I'm holdin' onto you just as tight."
"Ah won't leave you, Logan. Ever. Not even if you live to be a thousand. Ah will find a way."
Logan had never kissed her, but, just then, he pulled her into his arms, and he did, and it was just the right time to do it.
Rogue let everything go.
She forgot it all, and just kissed him back.
When they parted she felt a little…strange.
"Logan, did that bother you, just now? Us kissing?"
"Got me pretty hot an' bothered, darlin'. I promised myself I'd leave you alone till we got to Pa's cabin, and now I'm in a big fuckin' hurry to get there. Why?"
"Because ah feel…funny."
Rogue had to sit down.
A flood of images assaulted Rogue's mind; Logan's whole life that was locked away from him, rushing into her in seconds.
And then…
It was like the whole world had been put under a microscope, but one that magnified all of the senses, not just sight.
She could see through the veil of snow like it wasn't there at all.
Familiar smells assailed her nose with great clarity; on the wind she caught a whiff of a scent a lot like Logan's, but still different.
She could also smell chicken cooking.
The cold was much colder but it didn't seem to bother her as much, and she could hear the cars crunching through the snow on the main road way down the mountain.
Rogue's limbs felt full of energy, she felt like she could have sprinted up the mountain.
Everything was awake, new, exciting.
"Logan, ah think ah know what Victor meant when he said that you could give me everything he couldn't! Because ah can smell chicken cooking in your father's cabin. And ah can see through that snow clear as day. And ah can hear the cars goin' down the road on the main highway down below."
She looked at her hands
And thought:
All right, come on out.
SHUNK!
"AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGHHHH!"
Pain still hurts.
There was not, however, very much blood.
Rogue marveled at them.
Claws.
Just like Logan's.
They were a little thinner, and a little shorter, but they looked wickeder, being made of white bone, talon-like.
"Logan! Look at me! Claws! Ah got claws!"
Logan looked horrified.
"Why are you lookin' at me like that? Shoot, sugah, you didn't do anything wrong. This is what ah wanted, since ah got involved with Victor. Ah wanted it even more, since ah met you. Don't you see? Now ah won't grow old an sick and die, while you live another hundred years. Another thousand years! Ahm not just some poor little girl nobody can touch. Now ah got claws of mah own, and nobody's ever gonna push me around, again."
Shunk!
This time, all she did was wince, and say a bunch of words she normally didn't use.
"Hurts less the second time."
"No it don't. You just get used to it. So you want to be a feral mutant? You and Victor…he was tryin' to make you like us?"
"Every day! Hell, Logan, you show me a mutant who doesn't wish he was a feral! Y'all have the most fun!"
Logan had to laugh.
"Fun, huh? Now listen to me. Don't tell anybody you're like me. Not Pa. Not anybody at that school. Nobody. Not until you have to."
"Why?"
"Because it's your Ace In the Hole. Anybody but Victor, you can kill by laying a finger on him. You don't need to be a feral. You might need that little surprise, sometime. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Good. Let's keep going."
Logan still carried her duffel bag, even as Rogue sprang up the trail after him like a mountain goat.
"Why doesn't it seem odd to me, Logan?"
"Instinct. People have instincts, too. They're tellin' ya what to do now. Most of the time you can trust them. But not until you learn about them. I take that back about not tellin' Pa. You could stand to learn a few lessons from him, too."
"Lessons? About what?"
"You may be a feral, now, but you don't know how to live like one. We'll give you your start. And after that, I guess I'll just keep teachin' you. We've got nothin' but time, right? You ready for lesson number one?"
"Yes."
"Just about everything Vic ever told you was wrong. Now that you're a feral, it's twice as important that you know that."
"Ah knew that. Why are you still carrying my bag?"
"Because that's the way I was brought up, darlin'."
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
In terms of appearance, I am writing about comicverse Logan, but if you really need to close your eyes and think of Hugh Jackman, who am I to puncture your dreams?
Author's Chapter Notes:
In which we discover that Rogue's life is very, very, very complicated, that Victor Creed has a heart even if it is as black as midnight in a coal mine, and that Logan has the soul of a poet in the body of a Wolverine.
Chapter End Notes:
If you think this is complicated, wait untiil the next chapter,when we add Jean Grey to the mix! Can Dr. Grey take it as well as she can dish it out? How long can Sabretooth be noble and self-sacrificing? And just how far will Magneto go to prove to Rogue that he only ever had her best interests at heart? The answers to these and other questions will be found in the neXt X-citing chapter!