He grasps her wrist and turns her arm toward him, looking at the finger-shaped bruises that show above the top of her glove.
“I’m your friend, Rogue, and you being hurt *is* my business.”
She wrenches her arm free and spits, “Oh, yeah, my *friend*!”
Bobby jerks his head. “What does that mean?”
“Never mind,” she closes her eyes for a second. “Bobby, I’m not being hurt.”
“Tell me what’s going on, Rogue. Why the bruises?”
She just looks at him.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Rogue. Just explain. I won’t get mad.”
“Bobby…” She looks away at the wall, and when she returns her eyes to him they are cold and hard. “Shit, Bobby, you need me to spell it out? It’s sex, Bobby. And it’s not polite, and it’s not friendly. And I fucking *like* it.”
Bobby’s jaw clenches and unclenches once, twice, three times as he stares at her. He narrows his eyes, prepares to say something ugly, but changes his mind.
Instead he sighs and says almost gently, “Logan.”
“Of course Logan. Christ, who else? Who else would have the balls to touch *me*? Certainly not you.”
He takes a step toward her. “Rogue, are you doing this to hurt me?”
“No, no. It’s nothing to do with you. I shouldn’t have said that.” She softens a bit. “I’m sorry, Bobby. That wasn’t fair.”
“It wasn’t. Sometimes you are so mean these days.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Rogue,” he says, putting his hand on her shoulder in a brotherly gesture. “I am worried about you. You’ve changed a lot. These days I see more Logan in you than I do Rogue. You used to tell me what it was like, having someone else in your head. Well, how do you even know what you want, what you like, anymore? How many times has he touched you? It used to last a while, the swearing and smoking and drinking and meanness – but you’d come back to more or less yourself. You haven’t been yourself in a long time, Rogue.”
“Damn it, Bobby!” She knocks his hand from her shoulder. “What the hell do you know about me? Maybe I’m just not who you thought I was, eh? Maybe I wasn’t back then, either. You ask me how do I know what I want? I’ll tell you how I know. I know because I wake up begging for it. I know because my blood pounds in my ears when his hands close on my skin. I know because when I look into his eyes, I could kill every other person on the earth and not care. He makes me stronger, Bobby. He makes me”-
“He *makes* you! That’s exactly my god damned point, Rogue! He makes you.” Bobby sits down, puts his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands in frustration.
Rogue stands glaring at him. Minutes pass. Slowly her face softens from anger to thoughtfulness. She approaches him and crouches before him, looking up at his face.
“Bobby. I know. I know, Bobby. When he touches me, he changes me. But there’s something else you have to understand. I chose his touch. I liked what I felt the first time, and so I came back for more. I wanted to have him in my head. I wanted to feel what he felt, want what he wanted. Now I don’t know who wants what anymore, you’re right, but I couldn’t care less whose want it is. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Bobby stands up, and puts his arms around her. His eyes are wet as he hugs her tightly.
“Oh, Rogue. I worry about you. You can’t stop me from that. I feel so helpless. There is absolutely nothing I can do to protect you. I won’t fight him. I can’t fight you. I don’t know if you’re lost, or found.”
There is the sound of a motorcycle approaching, slowing, cutting out. The crunch of boots on gravel, carrying Logan’s exceptionally heavy body their way. Rogue and Bobby separate.
Logan stops ten feet from them. Bobby turns his most aggressive look on the older man, who lifts an eyebrow sarcastically in return.
“Hey, there, Freezerburn. Don’t mind me. Hell, hug ‘er all you want, kid. Later, Rogue.”
“I’m coming in now, anyway,” Rogue says, and follows him into the mansion.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry I've been so negative and dark lately. I really do like Logan, I swear!