“Daken is his son.”
Rogue spun around, stunned by the casually delivered revelation.
Emma strolled into the room, her perfectly pressed white outfit of tight slacks and silk blouse almost too brilliant in their whiteness. “I suspected he was Logan’s son, but wasn’t sure.” She stopped to stand beside Rogue at the window and looked out to the empty courtyard below them. “Now I know for certain.”
Rogue swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat as the horrid image of a pregnant woman’s dead body came unbidden into her mind. “There were two bullet holes in Itsu’s abdomen. How could a baby live through that?”
Emma shrugged, folding her arms under her ample breasts. “Darling, the Wolverine’s healing factor is extra-ordinary. It’s quite conceivable a child of his would inherit that ability, thereby ensuring its survival.” She sighed, sounding almost bored, but Rogue knew better. The other woman’s heart was beating fast. “I’m afraid a heartwarming reunion is out of the question. Daken absolutely loathes Logan. He made that quite clear during my brief encounter with him.”
Apprehension bulleted through Rogue. “Logan is convinced Daken tried to mark me during the time I was abducted.”
“Yes. I know.” Emma turned to face Rogue completely, her ice blue eyes serious. “You are mated with Logan, Rogue. It’s in his nature to eliminate anyone who would threaten to sever that bond.”
Rogue moved away, the horror of Emma’s inference clutching at her. She collapsed into a nearby chair, suddenly unable to stand and dropped her head into her hands. “He wouldn’t harm his own child,” she said more to herself, her voice faint. “He wouldn’t.”
I mean it, Marie. I’m gonna find him. And when I do, I’m gonna kill him.
The blonde telepath tilted her head, the skin around her eyes tightening in mild reproof. “Darling, you have Logan’s memories, his very mutation. You know exactly what the Wolverine is capable of.”
Rogue’s face paled. “He can't. His soul is barely hanging on as it is.”
“Well then. Sounds to me like you have some decisions to make.” And with that, the beautiful blonde woman left, leaving Rogue to stare after her.
The twin turbo private jet landed at the La Guardia Airport in the middle of the night. Three black Escalades waiting along the tarmac immediately pulled up alongside the multi-million dollar aircraft as its six passengers disembarked under the cover of darkness. Entering the leather confines of the government issued vehicle, Norman Osborne greeted the woman who had arrived a week earlier. “Have you word of her condition?”
The brunette’s face darkened at his question. “X-23 managed to survive,” she answered, hands curling into fists. “The X-Men got to her too quickly. I barely had time to get away.”
“Now, now,” the H.A.M.M.E.R. director consoled, patting her hand with his. “No matter. You’ve proven the Muramasa Blade works, Daken is pleased. I am sure once the Facility is up and running again you will have another opportunity to recapture X-23 and return her to the Weapon X program.” Leaning back, he crossed his legs and looked out the tinted window of the expensive car, a satisfied smile creasing his face. Everything was falling into place nicely. “You did well, Kimura.”
Blowing past Homeland Security, the large SUVs barreled down the runway, official clearance for their swift passage preceding them along the Interstate 278 highway. NYPD officers stationed in their cruisers along the cordoned off route stared after the motorcade with resentment as the black vehicles raced into the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, delivering their mutant cargo into the heart of Manhattan.
Blindspot entered Mystique’s newly assigned bedroom without knocking on the door, hoping to find the blue skinned mutant. Distracted, Daken had forgotten Blindspot behind when he left to meet with Osborne in the lobby of their new headquarters, providing a rare opportunity for her to speak to Mystique, alone.
“Mystique?”
Seeing no one, Blindspot sat on the bed, heavy disappointment leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Daken’s pheromones continued to fade, allowing her to think more clearly and tears blurred her vision, the conviction to tell Mystique what she had done growing as she pulled herself out even more from under his influence.
“Shouldn’t you be with your master?”
Blindspot jumped up as Mystique strode into the room. Swallowing hard, Melanie told her, “We only have a moment to talk before Daken comes back.”
“Talk? There’s nothing for us to discuss.” Mystique brushed past her and dropped the luggage in her hands at the foot of the bed, morphing into an attractive blonde woman whose grey eyes retained the same amount of disdain yellow ones reflected a moment before. Mystique intended to go out despite the midnight hour, looking forward to spending time in the city that never sleeps.
“You have to listen to me. I did something terrible. To Rogue.”
In an instant, Blindspot was thrown at the wall of the contemporarily decorated room, her throat held in a crushing hold against it. Lips curled back menacingly, Mystique demanded, “What did you do to my daughter?”
Blindspot winced from the pressure on her esophagus and Mystique loosened her grip, just a little, to allow leeway for speech. “After Daken attempted to rape Rogue,” the frightened woman managed to gasp out, her words broken from the still tight cinch around her neck, “I thought the best protection for her would be…her skin. I took her memories away…to make sure I took away the memory of when… she learned control.”
Mystique reverted back to her natural form, blue scales overlapping each other in an outward wave. “What do you mean, to be sure? How much did you take from her?”
“All of them. I took away… all of them. I only managed to return to Rogue the memories she had… before she met the Wolverine, before she… met the X-Men.” At Mystique’s sharp inhale, Blindspot hastened to add, “But I didn’t mean… to leave her like that! I intended… to return her memories but… I didn’t expect the X-Men to arrive so fast! You said… we would escape with Rogue, I thought I had time! I didn’t… have a chance to fix what I did…I… wasn’t thinking clearly. I just wanted Daken to leave her alone… I thought I was protecting her!”
“You’re lying!” Mystique hissed at her, squeezing her fingers around the smaller woman’s throat again. “You could have returned all her memories in an instant with a single touch. Tell me the truth, Melanie or I swear, I will snap your neck in half!”
Choking, Blindspot desperately tried to pry Mystique’s gloved hand away, blood vessels beginning to burst through the whites of her eyes. Realizing she needed her alive, Mystique released Blindspot and she fell to the floor, fighting with strangled breaths to drag much needed air back into her depleted lungs. Unmoved, Mystique waited for Blindspot to recover enough to speak again, and when she did, tears ran unchecked down her face.
“I didn’t want Rogue to remember him! She was supposed to stay untouchable!”
Mystique stared down at her, confused. “Remember who? What are you saying?”
“Rogue loves the Wolverine. She’s been in love with him from the moment she first saw him and…and…he loves her.” Blindspot broke down further, her jealous rage giving over to deep regret. “I wanted Rogue to forget him - I wanted her stay with me, but Rogue’s suffered so much in her life, Mystique. I’ve been through her memories. She’s waited so long for her happiness, to be with him. And I took it all away from her.”
Mystique didn’t have time to question her further as both women’s heads jerked towards the sound of Daken’s voice out in the hallway. Shifting back into the blonde, Mystique stepped in front of Blindspot who quickly stood up and wiped away her tears just as the tall feral walked into the room. Daken deliberately inhaled the air.
“My pretty little Melanie has been crying. Naughty, naughty Mystique. Have you been mean to my pet again?”
Annoyed, Mystique grabbed her purse to leave. With a warning glace at Blindspot to stay where she was, Daken shot out his hand and wrapped his fingers around Mystique’s wrist, pulling her roughly back towards him.
“Why is it that you don’t like me, hmm? I had hoped to nourish our relationship, and yet, you continue to push me away.”
“I prefer my lovers sane, Daken.”
He laughed, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “A bit of crazy runs in your veins too, aoi hana. You showed me some of it not too long ago.”
Mystique’s eyes were cold. “It was a necessary requirement to get you off my daughter.”
“Ah yes.” She saw his dark eyes flare in anticipation. “I look forward to spending more time with the beautiful Rogue, now that we have returned to your country.”
“You touch her again, you die.” Their eyes locked and moments passed as both assassins veraciously assessed each other. Pulling away, a malicious smile curled Daken’s lips.
“Ah, but you see Mystique, I will touch her again. The small sampling I got from that delicious female has only whetted my appetite. Now I am hungry for her.”
Mystique felt pure fear hook into her as she watched the feral’s pupils fade into the blackening irises surrounding them. Experience taught her to remain still, to look away and appear submissive and soon, his loud growl subsided into a low approving rumble. Holding Mystique’s face in place, he smashed his mouth down on her lips and with a satisfied purr, slowly licked away the blood that spilled down her chin from the split he caused from the vicious contact.
Throwing her onto the bed, Daken laughed at Mystique’s look of revulsion and grabbed Blindspot’s arm instead, the scent of his pheromones blanketing the younger woman as her eyes once again clouded over before being dragged away.
Logan didn’t return until well past midnight. Rogue stayed out on the terrace for hours - waiting - hoping - he would come back, and at the sound of the familiar roar of his motorcycle, stepped into the shadows to remain unseen when he parked it and stepped out of the garage. She forced herself to not call out his name as he walked across the manicured lawns towards the dense forest of the estate - away from the academy, and her. It wasn’t until Rogue was halfway across the sports-field that she realized she was following him. Slowing down, she made sure she stayed downwind to keep her presence unknown as he made his way through the trees.
She stopped well behind the copse of cedars that lined the pebbled shore of the lake, her eyes trained on him as he walked to the end of the pier next to the boathouse. He stood there for while, his body rock still before sitting heavily on the wooden planks and swinging his long legs over its edge. Rogue saw him dig inside his leather jacket to pull out a bottle. No, not one bottle. Two. She frowned, making out with her heightened eyesight, the markings on their gold banded black labels as a light breeze fluttered past her.
Johnny Walker Black.
His head lifted sharply, a slight movement, but it told her Logan caught her scent. Gathering up her courage, Rogue made her way towards him, digging her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She stopped a few feet back, and waited. Every nerve ending on alert, she watched as he ripped the paper seal from the top of one of the large bottles before twisting its cap off with one quick turn of his hand. Without looking at her, he held out the opened bottle.
“You get first dibs, darlin’. I was an asshole this morning.”
Rogue released the breath she had been holding and took it, sitting down next to him. His eyes were clear, showing nothing as he watched her tilt the bottle to her lips and swallow the amber liquid, her face grimacing from its absinthal taste. Forcing the burning substance down, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and passed the bottle back to him, suppressing a shudder from the after-taste.
Face still expressionless, he took it back from her. “Having my craving for whiskey doesn’t mean you can handle it.”
Rogue coughed a bit, eyes watering. He brought the bottle to his mouth and half its contents disappeared down his throat within seconds. She stared at him, fascinated. “Won’t your stomach reject that much alcohol all in one shot?”
Placing the bottle beside him, Logan pulled back his lips from his teeth with a sound of inhaled appreciation. “Used to. A long, long time ago.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Listen, Rogue – you can’t stay. I’m not gonna be good company.”
“I know.” Rogue forced her hands to stay on her lap, to prevent them from touching him. “I just wanted to catch you before you let loose. Make sure you’re okay.”
He looked out over the water, focusing on its inky surface. There was no moonlight, the lunar satellite hidden behind the low riding clouds above them, insulating them in darkness. “Emma tell you?”
Rogue nodded. Logan’s face tightened and he brought the bottle to his lips again, smiling mirthlessly. “Forgot to hand out cigars.”
She pulled at her jeans, needing to do something with her rebellious fingers. The air around them was thick with his misery. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
Closing his eyes, he snapped his head back and forth to release the tension in his neck. “Don’t be. Turns out the boy chose a pretty nasty road in life.” Coldness ran through him, recalling what he learned hours earlier at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Assassin. Thief. Mercenary. Murderer.
Just like his good ole dad.
Rogue’s heart twisted, seeing pain and guilt flicker across his handsome face. “You didn’t know, Logan. You thought the baby was dead.”
“Yeah, well, I should have stuck around to bury his mom.” This time, he drank more, leaving the bottle almost empty.
Rogue’s voice became softer. “You were taken over by a berserker rage. You couldn’t.” A heavy silence settled over them and seeing the look on his face, Rogue bit her lower lip, afraid he was going to send her away again.
“Took a ride down my memory lane, darlin’?” It wasn’t meant as a rebuke.
Crossing her legs, she turned quarter circle to face him and rested her elbows on her knees, hands clasped between them. “Actually, I didn’t. I was hoping you would tell me instead.”
He looked sharply at her and Rogue kept her eyes steady on his. The sounds of gently lapping water hitting the dock’s moorings floated up towards them, breaking the quiet stillness of the cooling night. At his hesitation she added, “I’m your friend, Logan. Besides, didn’t you hear? I absorbed super-listening somewhere along the way. And it comes with a handy speech inhibiter.”
That got a small smile out of him, but then he became serious again. “Okay, Rogue, you win. But when I tell you to go, you go. I need to get real ugly tonight and I don’t want you around when I do.”
She made a criss-cross motion with her fingers near her heart followed by a twisting motion in front of her mouth. Logan lifted his arm and Rogue fit under it, resting her head on his shoulder. Feeling her arms wrap around his waist, he took a deep breath.
And began to talk.
Hours later, sitting in the brown leather chair by his opened bedroom window, Rogue pulled the motorcycle jacket Logan insisted she wear back to the mansion tighter around her. The tears she held back earlier escaped her eyes when the Wolverine's tortured howls in the distance made their way into her equally tormented heart.
I love you, Logan.
I love you.