“Are you sure this is the place, darlin’?” Logan looked up from his motorcycle and gazed at the luxury apartment building.
A soft giggle reverberated through his back. “I’m sure, Logan,” replied Rogue, who got off the bike and confidently headed towards the front entrance. Logan shut off the engine and hopped off, quickly catching up to her, just as the doorman opened the door for her with a smile. The knowing nod between Marie and the doorman just made Logan more confused.
“You come here often?”
“God, Logan, you make it sound like a cheap pick-up line.”
“I’ll have you know there ain’t anything cheap about my pick-up lines.”
“Suuuure there aren’t,” she retorted, entering the elevator.
“You going to answer my question?”
“I’ve been living here the last two months, so yeah, I’m here a lot.”
“I thought you said we were visiting some guy, not visiting your apartment.”
“I’m living with the guy.”
“WHAT!?!” The Wolverine was suddenly straining at the leash. The idea of his girl, his mate, shacking up with someone else filled him with a fury he hadn’t felt since he stared down Stryker.
“Living with,” she said calmly, “not sleeping with.”
The elevator dinged and she slid out. Paralyzed with rage, Logan stayed in the elevator till the doors started to close again and he rushed out, just as Marie came to a stop before a door. Logan quickly realized that it was one of only two doors on the floor. Logan’s rage gave way to bewilderment when she didn’t make a move to unlock the door or even knock on it. He was about to ask her what was going on when the door opened.
Marie turned and smiled at him, “Come on in.”
He followed her in, calming slightly. Then he realized who had opened the door for them. “You!”
“What’s wrong, little brother?” Victor Creed smirked at Logan, as the smaller mutant lunged forward, but Victor simply dodged him.
“What the hell is going on here?” demanded Logan, baring his teeth to Sabertooth.
The larger feral ignored the question, “Why’d you bring him here, Rogue?”
“He remembers –” Victor looked at the snarling maw of his brother and scoffed. “At least he remembers some things,” she concluded.
“Like what? What do you remember, runt?” He stalked closer to Logan, staring him down.
Logan didn’t break eye contact, but visibly shrank. “I knew her,” he indicated Rogue, “back when she was a kid.”
Victor gave a deep, dark laugh and turned to Rogue. “’Knew you,’ huh? How very Biblical of you. Got more than that?”
“Logan, he knows, you don’t have to mince words.”
‘How the fuck can I be mincing my words when I barely know anything myself?’ He irritatedly thought to himself.
Marie and Victor looked at the confused mutant, their expression felt both familiar and haunting. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, one he’d been holding for almost two decades.
“I don’t need any of your help to take care of my girl.”
“The way I see it, you do. She’s all skin and bones.”
“She’s fine,” Logan growled back. The both moved into fighting stances.
“Will you two stop it?” he heard Anna Marie ask petulantly.
“I can take care of my own,” he told his brother.
“You can’t take care of your own shit, let alone someone else’s!”
“Go fuck yourself!”
Rogue growled in frustration, “Lordy, why don’t you two just whip ‘em out and measure them, be done with it.”
Victor smiled, purposefully displaying all his razor sharp teeth to his brother. “Hear that, runt? Your mate wants to see what a real man’s cock looks like.”
His claws reflexively sprung forth as he charged and managed to pierce his brother’s belly. Victor responded with a swipe across his face, taking part of his cheek away.
He heard a dramatic sigh from Rogue as she stomped away. The brothers started fighting in earnest.
Logan smirked at the memory, then turned his eyes to his family again.
‘Family. Shit. They are my family.’
The anger drained from his body, but the confusion remained. The demeanors of all three mutants calmed.
Victor silently walked into the living room, and Logan instinctively followed with Rogue. For the first time, Logan took note of the surprisingly posh digs that his brother had. The penthouse apartment was sparsely, but tastefully, decorated. Mostly consisting of dark wood, rich leather, and gleaming metal, the place had a distinctly masculine ambiance. Victor sat himself on a large brown sofa, while Rogue disappeared into the kitchen, only to return seconds later with three bottles of beer. She handed them around and sat in a large easy chair. Logan was still too agitated to sit, so he stood with his back to the unlit fireplace.
“Don’t remember much,” he finally said to them. “Bits and pieces. Some good, some bad.” He looked over to Victor, who was languidly relaxing on the couch, face unreadable. “Know you’re my brother. Know you’re a major asshole, but you always got my back.”
“That about sums it up,” Rogue muttered into her beer bottle.
Logan turned to her. “Know that I did horrible things to you. Took you away from your family. Made you mine. But for some fucking reason, you stuck with me, cared for me.”
“Seems like ya got the basics,” Victor said, still unexpressive.
“Yeah, but that’s all the fuck I’ve got.”
“So what? You want me to fill ya in? Ain’t got that kind of time.”
“What the fuck, Victor?” Rogue yelled. “You’ve been on me about telling his past for months, and now you don’t give a damn?”
“You know that I give a damn, woman. Even went along with your stupid ‘let him remember in his own time’ plan of yours. But I’m not about to go telling him his life story. Hell, I don’t even know it all. We were never much for ‘sharing,’ ya know.”
Rogue glared at Victor, but then turned to Logan, her brown eyes softening. She sighed.
“I might not be able to tell you your story, but I can tell your mine,” Rogue gave an encouraging smile to Logan, which was met with his nervousness. “I was born in –”
“Fuck no. You aren’t going that far back, David Copperfield,” retorted Victor. Rogue gave him an incredulous look that he immediately rebuffed. “What? I read. Hurry it up.”
“As I was saying, I was born in 1918 in Whitefish, Montana.”
“You’re ninety years old?” Logan was stunned.
“I know, I know. I don’t look a day over 75,” she flippantly retorted.
Victor chuckled darkly at Logan, “You’re a shitload older than that, you know.”
“Can I get back to the story without any more comments from the peanut gallery?” She glared at both of them. Logan nodded, Victor simply grunted.
“Had two older sisters, and a younger brother. My parents did what they could to get by, but we were always pretty poor. Lived a ways from town, hunted, scavenged, and grew our own food.”
The woman looked frail, her mousey brown hair was prematurely graying, and there were bags under her eyes. Three girls ran around, keeping her company, as she picked blackberries in the spring twilight. The older woman turned to the eldest girl, who was already beginning to emerge into womanhood, and said something he couldn’t understand. The girl stopped her playing and checked on the baby who sat on a nearby thread-bare blanket. The middle daughter, her hair haphazardly decorated with ribbons, joined her mother in picking berries.
The youngest girl, the one with beautiful brown eyes and a more beautiful scent wandered away. He stealthily followed, watching from the woods. She started to walk amongst the trees, a serene smile gracing her face. She was home here. He was home here.
Amongst the dense trees and dingy scrub-brush, a single pale yellow flower appeared to catch her eye. She leaned over, placing her hand out to pick it, and then suddenly halted. The Wolverine feared he might have been detected, but was relieved when she simply left the flower blossom in the brief warm light.
Another yell from the mother broke them both from their stupor. The girl headed back to her family, and he could tell that the mother was upset with her. He understood only one word of the mother’s reproach – “monster.”
Rogue had stopped talking, but Logan wasn’t sure how much he’d missed. She didn’t look angry, though. ‘Damn. A woman who doesn’t get pissed when I ignore what she’s saying. I did hit the jackpot with this one.’ Then the image of the small girl, surrounded by the corpses of her family, played in his mind, overwhelming him with guilt. He knew he had to ask, even though he didn’t really want to know the answer.
“How old? How old were you when I . . .” he trailed off.
“Murdered her family and kidnapped her?” Creed gleefully helped his brother out.
Logan hung his head, “Yeah.”
“Eleven,” Rogue simply stated.
Logan closed his eyes as a wave of shame overcame him. “Fuck. Why the hell do you still want me after that? You got Stockholm Syndrome or something?”
“Or something,” muttered Victor.
“Logan, listen to me,” Rogue commanded, “I ain’t saying you’re perfect. Part of me will never forgive you for what you did, but I’m here now, aren’t I? There’s a reason for that.” She sighed and stood in front of him. He looked at her just long enough to see that she looked introspective and serious, not furious like he thought she should be. “I’m no saint either. And before you even say it – it’s not because of what you did to me or what you made me into.” She scrunched up her eyebrows, as if considering something.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I really did go to the clinic where they were giving out the cure. Almost got it, too.”
Logan heard a growl, and was surprised that it was both him and his brother.
Rogue continued, heedless, “I was all wound up about it being my choice. I started to get all bellicose about never being given a choice. I didn’t choose to be a mutant, to have my family die, to be with you – BUT – I made plenty of my own choices. I remember making the choice to kill, you never forced me to anything sexual that I wasn’t willing to do, and I’ve chosen to be here with you now.”
Logan looked down into her loving brown eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, raking his hand through her snow-white tress.
Victor let out a derisive snort, “Shit, you still are a pansy, runt.” Logan decided he didn’t want to waste the energy on a retort, and was happy when his brother stomped out of the room.
“I love you, Logan.” She said tearfully. “So I had to give you a choice, too. I thought you wanted to be a hero, so I left you to it. But now you’re here and I don’t know what you want.”
He held her head in his large hands, and softly kissed away the stray tear that was rolling down her cheek. “I just wanted to know who I was.”
“And now? Now that you know?”
Her eyes were pleading, for honesty, for sympathy, for love. “Now that I know what a monster I am, I just want you to be there in the morning when I wake up. I want to be someone you want to wake up next to. Every morning. For the rest of my life.”
She gave him a brilliant smile that made his heart soar. “Let’s start on that right now shall we?” She said suggestively as she took his hand and led him down the hall, to a bedroom.
He glanced over at her, wrapped up in brown blankets like they were a cocoon. The only part of her that was showing was her face and just enough of her hands so that she could hold the book. He tried to catch her eye, but she was too enraptured in what she was reading. He grinned, ‘wrapped up like that, she literally looks like a bookworm.’ He noted the title of the book and his grin grew.
“Howl, huh? They wrote a book about me?”
She didn’t look up from her book, “Not exactly. But this Ginsburg guy certainly has a unique point of view, like you do. Although in his case, I think probably has less to do with being born with special abilities and more to do with smoking an excessive amount of marijuana.”
“Are you suggesting that taking drugs turns you into a poet?”
“Just maybe.” Her eyes still on the book.
“And do you like poetry?”
“Yep. Wouldn’t be reading this otherwise, would I?”
“Huh. I got to get myself some opium.”
He laughed, as he finally managed to get her to put down the book. Or more specifically, got it thrown at his head.
Logan figured the bedroom was ‘her room,’ but it still felt like a guest room, even to his decidedly non-metrosexual eye. Only a few items made it Rogue’s – a few articles of scattered clothing and a pile of books. ‘Stop smiling at the books, ya wuss,’ he berated himself, ‘it’s the bed that your woman is leading you to that should make you happy.’
“Wait, Logan. . . before anything else happens, we still got one more elephant in the room, ya know.”
“And what would that be?”
“Jean.”
Logan swallowed hard and looked away from her. His happiness evaporated. Silence started to fill the room, the weight of it soon becoming unbearable.
“Don’t know what I’m supposed to say about that, Marie.”
“Anna,” she corrected. “And I just want the truth.”
He steeled himself and looked at her. “I loved her. At least I thought I did. It hurt like hell when I lost her – both times.”
Sadness clouded Rogue’s brown eyes. “I know, sugar. I saw enough of your mind up on the statue to know you were falling for her. And I knew it destroyed you when she died. Especially the second time.”
Her words of comfort managed to make him feel more guilty.
“Can’t explain it, but it doesn’t feel like love anymore,” he concluded.
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t want you to say that just for my benefit, you know.”
“I know, Anna.” The name still felt strange on his tongue. “It’s just that . . . I don’t know I’m just waking up from a dream or something, And everything that I was or felt over the last eighteen years was only partly read, An echo of who I really an and really feel.”
The wrinkles of confusion deepened. “Well, apparently in that extended dream you managed to learn how to express yourself succinctly. How’s that for a silver lining?”
He chuckled. “Glad I could give you something, I live to serve,” she replied sarcastically.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
He moved to her, placing his hands on her hips. “Sure is.” He brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “Anything else I can do for ya, darlin’?”
Before he could react, she had ripped open his shirt and was placing burning kisses on his chest while her hands groped him through his jeans.
A lusty growl thundered through his chest. Both the human and animal side of him seemed in agreement, ‘Our perfect match.’
She lay beneath him. Clean, pure, naked.
“Logan,” her whisper was laced with desire.
He growled in response, then took one of her nipples in his teeth, and let his greedy hands explore her breasts. His fingers kneaded her flesh, almost painfully. Sucking harder on her pert nipple, he made her gasp and arch into him further. His hands made their way farther down her body, but the rough touches vanished once his hands reached her swelled stomach. He massaged her belly almost reverently and pulled his head away from her chest long enough to place a kiss on his unborn child.
A muffled moan and surge of her arousal pulled him from contemplating the life within her. He glanced at her face, her need etched into every pore. He grinned at her, baring his teeth, and thrust into her.
Logan stopped in his tracks. The mostly naked Rogue halted one she realized that he was no longer responding to his touch.
“Sugar?”
He glanced up at her concerned face, placing his hand gently on her bare stomach.
Her eyes widened. “Oh no. Please tell me you don’t remember that. You’ve been through too much already.”
He didn’t respond, but lightly felt around her once-pregnant stomach. He halted on a small scar, slightly raised, almost circular. He felt Anna Marie pull him to the bed as a memory washed over him.
He couldn’t believe he had let them get the drop on him. Yet suddenly, the cabin was surrounded. Before he could even manage to assume a defensive position, they converged.
The glass of the windows shattered, the doors were broken down, and two dozen guns were trained on them both. Instinctively unsheathing his claws, he did his best to protect Anna. She shrieked and made herself small against his back. Her rapid heart-beat pounded in his ears, louder than her his own pulse.
“His head,” came the order from the frame of the front door.
He heard the barrage of shots, felt searing pain, then nothing.
When he revived, his mate’s heat was no longer at his back. Instead, several heavily armored commandos were attempting to bind him.
In front of him was Anna already shackled with a gut to her head. The smell of her fear filled the room.
“Ah, he’s awake,” he heard a voice, but couldn’t take his eyes off his struggling mate.
“Should we shoot him again, sir?”
“No. I have a better idea.” The commander stood directly in front of him, blocking his view of his woman. He looked like a bland, middle-aged government thug. He’d seen, and killed, dozens like him before. “Listen here, Wolverine. Let my men shackle you and come with us quietly, or we’ll shoot your little girlfriend.”
He heard Rogue whimper slightly; it was all he needed. He stopped struggling.
“Lovely. Thank you. We had these bonds especially made for you, it would be a shame to waste them. Adamantium isn’t cheap, you know,”
The soldiers finished binding his arms and legs and pulled him up. He could see Anna Marie once again, her eyes silently pleading with him.
The commander followed Logan’s gaze. “I think that’s all we need you for, my dear.” He pulled out a pistol, aimed it at her stomach, and fired a single bullet.
Pulling fiercely at his bonds the Wolverine roared and attempted to go to his mate. The soldiers surrounded him, and the world once again went black. This time, he was thankful. He had nothing left to live for.
Logan gazed down at the mark, at the place where the bullet entered, taking away his love, his child, and his life, in one foul swoop. He gritted his teeth in a desperate attempt not to cry, but a single sob wrung out as the tears began to flow. He kissed the scar, and then held on to Anna for dear life. She returned the embrace.
She said nothing as she held him to her, but he could smell the scent of her own salty tears. They silently mourned together, for the loss of their child, for the loss of their life together. He heard his brother stealthily enter the room, but he too stood silent.
The tears stopped, and eventually dried. The sky outside began to lighten, as dawn neared. At long last, he spoke.
“What happened, after they took me away?” He glanced up at weary, brown eyes.
“They bashed my head in,” Rogue replied in a strained, tired voice. “They must have not known about my powers, the fact that I had a healing factor.”
“Borrowed healing factor,” Victor chimed in.
“Been permanent for a while now, Vic. Anyways, they chucked me in shallow grave. When I recovered, there were a couple of the soldiers still about doing clean-up work. Did what I could to get info out of them, but I was too weak to use my powers, my brain was still knitting itself together.”
“She means literally.” Logan glanced over at his brother. A quiet rage was brewing inside the larger feral. “When I got there, the soldiers were dead, but there were still bits of her skull that were poking out.”
The claws in his hands ached to be released.
“Victor gave me a pretty good dose of his healing factor, took out both of us for a while. It fixed me up, but . . .” Tears pooled in her eyes and she couldn’t force the words to come.
“But it was too late for our child.”
“And too late to find you,” Victor added.
Rogue continued, with a mournful voice, “We split up after that. I’d heard that the man in charge came from the Southern US, so I went that way. Victor here was sure that you hadn’t been taken out of Canada.” She glanced over at Sabertooth, “Guess you were right about that one.”
He scowled, “Was there ever any doubt?”
She rolled her eyes.
Logan lay their quietly, comforted by the presence his brother and his mate. Exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. ‘Didn’t know emotions could take it out of me like this.’
He let out and exasperated sigh. “Still got a lot that I don’t remember.”
“It’ll come back.” His brother said stoically.
“And we’ll be here for you the whole way,” confirmed Rogue.
“Got any more bombshells for me?”
“A few,” Rogue said wistfully, indicating that the worst was already out in the open.
He closed his eyes and let the images from his past swirl through his mind. ‘So much pain. So much destruction. And so much of it was my fucking fault.’ He opened his eyes and looked at Anna Marie once more.
“I’m not the good guy, am I?” Logan asked ruefully.
Rogue shook her head. “No, not really. But you’re my guy.”
He found that concept strangely comforting. He pulled her further into him. “I think I can live with that,” he said, before catching her lips in a soul-searing kiss.
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Chapter End Notes:
Yes, there is a place called Whitefish, Montana. You know what? I’ve decided to be nice. I’ll be putting up an epilogue. If you’re happy with this ending, stop here, if you want some sweetness, read on.