Logan left his bike at the same parking garage in the city and took the train into Jersey. He milled around the area surrounding the diner where Rogue worked.
The district was poverty stricken, with abandoned cars and derelict buildings. There was drug paraphernalia littering a couple of the vacant lots and the few houses that looked lived in had at least a window boarded up.
He ate a late lunch at the diner, taking a seat near the door. His waitress, Pamela, who was trying to chat him up; was very different from Rogue. Pamela was someone he might have taken for a quickie once upon a time, but he was here to check on Rogue not get laid. So he tried to be nice to Pamela all the while keeping an eye on Rogue.
Rogue went about her duties talking with the customers, being polite, and prompt. Logan knew no matter how good of a waitress she was; in this neighborhood her tips were minimal.
Logan left Pamela a nice tip to make up for the people the next booth over that left a huge mess and no tip. He found a good vantage point down the street where he could watch for Rogue.
She left the diner mid-afternoon and headed the opposite direction. Carefully he trailed her the mile to the crap motel he'd woken up in. He waited a sufficient amount of time and when she didn't reemerge he went in.
There was just enough room in the lobby to set down his backpack next to the cigarette vending machine. Looking at the carpet, he thought better of it and reshouldered his pack. He rang the little bell on the small shelf, below the window, that served at the registration desk. A rotund man pried his eyes away from a small TV to stare at Logan.
"Need a room for the week," Logan told the man who had no intension of moving unless he had to.
"Two eighty," the man said, still not moving from the chair.
Only when Logan pulled out his wallet did the man finally leverage himself from the chair and shuffle over.
"Room by the lady that entered a little bit ago." The man looked at him vacantly. "Brunette in the waitress uniform."
Logan was prepared to pay extra to get the room he wanted, but the man simply grabbed a different key and took the money. This guy really didn't care what went on here. Logan didn't know what disturbed him more; the man's attitude or the fact he probably made more than Rogue who worked her butt off at the diner.
Walking down the hall, he tracked Rogue's scent to the room next to the one he'd been given. Entering his room, he did a quick assessment and it was as bad as the one he'd had two weeks ago. There was a small, but clean enough bathroom; a sink area just outside it with an old microwave, coffee pot and a mini fridge that might work.
Further in the room was a queen bed; next to it was a cheesy desk that doubled as a nightstand with a lamp and an alarm clock. He tossed his bag on the dresser next to the TV and looked out the window.
Logan settled himself on the bed; he'd go over to the bar he spotted later.
Logan heard the alarm clock go off in Rogue's room. He rolled over to see his, 4:30 A.M. Her shower started and then later what sounded like Rogue getting ready for the day. At a quarter after five she left her room. He went to the window and watched her, in uniform, walking in the direction of the diner.
He showered, put on clean clothes, and pocketed his key. Checking the hall to make sure it was empty, he jimmied Rogue's room door with no trouble. It figured, the keys were more of a formality than a security feature.
He stood for a second thinking of the berating he would have received from the Rogue he "knew" for this breach of privacy. He'd promised to take care of "her", the least he could do after that failure was to make sure this Rogue was okay.
Her bathroom held no name soap and shampoo, and a few female type products. The sink area had exactly one mismatched place setting, a mug, and several cans of soup. Underneath the sink was an old bucket with some laundry products and dish soap.
In the closet area was her dark green winter coat he remembered from another time and place. He smelled it, smiling at the memories it brought back. Memories that were now no one else's but his. He frowned and turned to the other things hanging there.
Two freshly laundered and ironed uniforms, hung ready for use. The dresser contained the usual female undergarments, two pair of jeans, a handful of shirts, and several sets of the undershirts and leggings he'd seen her in yesterday.
In the very back of the drawer were two pairs of threadbare gloves. The gloves had something wound up in them, cautiously he unwrapped them to find two hundred in cash. He made sure to put it back as he'd found it. The only other personal item in the room was a ten-year-old ipod with a cracked screen held together with packing tape. There were no pictures or letters indicating she did anything outside of work and sleep.
When Logan left her room, he admitted to himself that his original assessment of her situation might have been overly optimistic.
At breakfast he made sure to sit in her area so he could watch her without being too obvious. There were little things that remind him of the Rogue of his timeline: her smile, her light laugh, the carefulness of her movements, and the way she tilted her head when she was listening.
Other things belonged completely to this Rogue: she smelled warm and sweet almost like peaches, the sway of her hips and the way she peeked at him from under her lashes. What really bugged him though was he thought she had a different smile for him than the other customers.
He shook his head at the thought; he'd been in this timeline roughly three weeks and he was becoming starry eyed over Rogue. Finishing his breakfast, he left her a decent tip and contemplated coming back for lunch, but thought better of it. Best not to be conspicuous.
Logan had wandered his way down to the bar. It was a small place, with a few regulars that came and went during the afternoon. The beer on draught was passable. Listening to the bartenders, he could tell that on the weekends the bar would fill up with a rougher crowd. Occasionally, the younger, rowdy soldiers from Fort Dix would come in.
Late in the afternoon, a young tough that had been sizing up Logan for the last hour came over and sat beside him at the bar. "Name's Tony."
Logan didn't even bother to acknowledge the guy. He finished his beer and stood up to leave. Tony spoke again. "You ever do any fighting?"
Tony turned toward Logan and started to put his hand on Logan's arm. Logan stopped the guy with a steely glare. Laughing, Tony put his back to the bar. "Oh yeah, you know how to fight." Tony took a gulp of his beer. "If you're interested we do matches down at the warehouse district starting at ten. No cage, but the money's good, if you are."
Logan grunted and walked out. Four days in town and he had a promising form of entertainment for the night.
That night he's spent a fair amount of time scoping out the fights. The place was easy enough to find. The crowd was small and he hung out on the edge of it. There was a makeshift platform with burn barrels at the corners made up the fight ring.
The first few fights were lightweights, nothing worth his time. Toward the end, there was a fighter or two that might last a round or so with him.
Tony found him before Logan left. "The fights heat up on the weekend." Tony pointed out a muscular built, bald man. "Dog will fight then. He's just here tonight for the fighter he's training."
Logan's eyes followed Tony's finger as he pointed out several other men in the audience, probably scoping out the competition like he was. "Sometimes the soldiers from the Fort make a showing."
Logan only grunted. If it was payday it could be lucrative.
"If you were to compete, what name would you go by?" Logan knew Tony had wanted to ask that from the start.
"Wolverine."
Tony looked surprised. "It's been awhile." Logan fixed him with a glare. Tony continued on quickly. "I mean, haven't heard your name on any of the circuits lately."
"Been busy," Logan said as he left.
Rogue's alarm went off at the same time as the morning before. When Logan got up to relieve himself, he heard her crying through the adjoining bathroom wall.
His first impulse was to go knock on her door and offer to kick the ass of whatever boy was making her cry. Then it dawned on him that this wasn't the mansion. This Rogue wouldn't understand his need to hunt down and beat the shit out of some guy he didn't even know.
He growled internally and went back to bed. Did he even understand this need of his?
Logan got up again around noon and headed to the diner for a late lunch. Rogue served him with a smile, but was scarce the rest of the time. He didn't see her again after she cleared his plates and he decided to head back to the motel.
He was outside finishing his cigar when Rogue walked past him into the small motel lobby. She was talking to a man behind the counter, who was also the manager. Logan inched closer to the door to hear what was being said clearly.
"I know I'm twenty short on rent. I'll pay you tomorrow." Rogue's voice sounded strained. Logan closed his eyes and down graded her living situation another notch.
"Today," said the manager. Logan peered through the glass door at the slim, greasy man who worked the early afternoon.
"It was a bad week," countered Rogue.
"What if tomorrow is bad, too?" The manager asked.
"You know I'm good for it." Rogue was losing her patience.
"You could work it off." The manager had an odd sort of glee in his voice that left little doubt he was offering Rogue a trade for a sexual act.
Logan yanked open the door while fishing two twenties out of his jean's pocket. He approached Rogue and the manager, holding the cash out toward Rogue. The manager's growing pleasure at the prospects of the situation were suddenly dashed. The distaste in Rogue's eyes changed to confusion when she faced Logan.
"I think you dropped this out front." Logan was offering a way out of the predicament without being beholden to anyone.
Rogue stared at the money then at Logan. He could see the wheels turning in her head while she tried to decide how far she could trust him.
She reached out tentatively and that soft smile he thought was for him alone flitted across her lips. "Thank you!"
Rogue turned back to the man behind the window and put one of the twenties on the counter. Without saying another word she strode off toward the stairs, ponytail bouncing proudly with every step.
Logan directed his attention back to the manager. He didn't want to know how many women and men in this place fell prey to this man's demands to keep a roof over their heads. Logan wanted to snap the manager's neck like the little weasel deserved. He settled for a glower that made the man take a step backwards and turn a sickly green color.
Logan took the stairs slowly, allowing Rogue plenty of time to enter her room before he reached the hall. As he passed by her door, he could hear her on the other side. He felt her staring at him, he walked on past as if he had no idea it was her room.
He was here to check on her not make goo-goo eyes at her through the peephole. He wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible and not let her think he was stalking her. She let out a small, frustrated huff as he unlocked the room next to hers.
~*~
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