Smiling at my handiwork, I adjust the belt holding Forge's new device around my waist. It's the same one Logan tested for them almost six months ago. Forge and Hank were able to perfect it and produce a small number of them. Logan made sure I received the first one.
Stretching the kinks out of my back, I add the finished projectiles to a bag. Bullets are too far and few between; it's been easier to modify things like old paintball guns to shoot different projectiles. Things shouldn't have gotten this far, but many of our most powerful or experienced fighters eventually end up dead or in camps.
Actually, the guys are at one of the camps right now on a raid. Hank had discovered the means to nullifying the inhibitor collars from the tech of a downed sentinel. If everything goes right, they won't be risking life and limb to free a few mutants, but rather they can liberate the entire camp at once.
The last sentinel factory was destroyed a week ago, so any response to the fleeing captives would be limited. The MTF's numbers have dwindled and with few people joining their ranks, the camps run on a skeleton crew. Nowadays, the Force's response time to this type of thing is as slow as molasses on a good day.
Picking up my armor, I head for the living area. Logan would have a fit if he knew I wasn't wearing my armor. Today has been sunny and warm for November and I couldn't take it anymore. The belted device should be enough to keep me safe while I'm in a safe house.
"Hey, Rogue, can you come here a minute?" It's one of the younger mutants.
I mentally run through the list of names. She and her brother are new to our group. "Sure, Mary Kate."
I follow her through a maze of storerooms to where the explosive devices are laid out in various stages of completion. Mary Kate's younger brother waves hello as we enter. The two, just teenagers really, turned out to be a very efficient team with a great aptitude for explosives.
A pang of guilt hits me hard. I should be overseeing the decorations they are making for Xavier's Thanksgiving, not their skill at assembling bombs. Though the war has slowed it isn't over and even if it were finished it would be years before things became peaceful again.
"Rogue?" Mary Kate has obviously asked something while I was lamenting what couldn't be.
I pick up one of the devices, turning it over I examine it. "Looks complete."
"Good," she says as I set it down. "I wanted to make sure the new configuration was right before we did too many."
"It's a fine job, Mary Kate." I feel the pang of guilt again. "Why don't you guys clean up for the day."
It's already sunset and I make a quick patrol of the area. Those who took part in the raid should be filtering back in. The camp is far enough away we won't be moving this evening.
Getting something to eat and a book, I set up watch at one of the entrances. With all the tech available to us for perimeter protection, nothing beats a pair of real live ears. The MTF doesn't run operations at night anymore after losing several field Head Quarters that way. Yet it's still a good idea to have someone in place to alert others of anything strange.
I snort at that. The things in our daily lives that we now consider normal. Quiet at night has become the new normal all over the city. Power and water are scarce, even in former safe zones. Anything more than a scurry of an animal is worth inquiry.
Even my taste in reading material has changed. Not that I get to read much, but there are books that get passed around. I used to love dystopian books, but they've lost their appeal and not just for me. Most of the books you see are romance novels, westerns, and anything that would have been considered a beach read. Any book that takes the reader out of the pains of life and into another world. The favorite ones are where the bad guy gets his due and everyone rides into the sunset.
I look at the cover of tonight's entertainment and try to picture Logan in a kilt. It brings a smile to my lips. He wouldn't see the need for the kilt and we'd skip right to the racey parts.
Settling in with my book and food, I spend the next hour listening to the quiet sounds of those returning from the raid. Logan's the last one in. He tries to sneak up behind me and kiss my neck.
I let him, a little worried that I caught the scrape of his boot before he got to me. He'll deny being hurt if I ask, so I don't. "How'd it go?"
"Good. A few more tweaks and it will be able to deactivate and unlock the collars at the same time."
"Mmmm...," I respond as he places another kiss on my neck. "How are the Professor and Storm?"
"Fine." His hands roam down my sides. "They both say hello." I nod absently trying to finish the chapter. "What are you reading this time?"
Logan prefers the classics and often pokes fun at my choice of reading material. "Do you know how to use a broadsword?" I ask innocently.
He moves around in front of me and glances at the cover. "A claymore, sure. You want me in the kilt too?"
I laugh quietly. "Don't need the fantasy when I have you," I reply leaning in for a kiss.
He inhales and pauses before kissing me. I'm left, lips puckered, waiting. Taking my hand, he lifts it to his nose and sniffs. I sigh heavily; I should have scrubbed my hands.
"I thought we had an agreement," he states flatly.
Jerking away my hand, I head off the lecture that is coming. "We do. Mary Kate wanted to know if they were doing it right." I scrutinize his clothes, noting the fresh bloodstains and holes. "Our agreement is worthless if I'm left alone."
Suddenly, I'm angry at him and stomp off. My chances of dying behind the lines only helping are as great as if I were out fighting like I used to. I don't care if Hank said it would be best if I didn't handle the explosives. Someone's got to and why not me instead of two kids. It's just as bad for their health.
By the time I make it to our 'bed' I've calmed down. I've never been one to be moody. I tell myself it must be the change of seasons and the thought of another year lost. The longer the war drags on the more people grate on each other's nerves.
Can someone become a professional sigher? I think I spend half my days sighing, usually at something Logan has said or done. It didn't use to bother me, but not even a year ago I was still pining for him. Now that were together...I don't know, I'm tired and need to sleep.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Logan says in a hushed, soothing tone. He's lying beside me but giving me space.
I suppress my sigh before it can escape. I don't want him tiptoeing around me, forever thinking he's on my bad side. "I'm the one who should be sorry...about earlier. I was out of line."
Pushing the stray hairs out of my face, he cups my cheek. "No, you weren't out of line. I expect you to understand and it's not fair." Moving closer, he places a kiss on my forehead. "It's not easy living with me, especially now."
We've rehashed this conversation more than I care to think about. I know he thinks that going all out keeps me safe. I can't ask him to be somebody he's not, letting someone else take a hit he can easily survive; that's not the man I fell in love with. If he started pulling punches and taking the easy way out, he wouldn't be the Wolverine anymore. Logan and Wolverine are a package deal and I wouldn't have it any other way.
"I love you," I whisper, putting my hand on his. "Life hasn't been fair to either of us. But I can't imagine it without you."
I shift around on my nest of old shipping blankets; snuggling back into him and pulling his arm over me. He draws me in. "Love you," he breathes into my ear.
"You know what I could use right now?" I ask wiggling my ass into his groin.
"A bowl of chocolate ice cream," he teases me, running his hand down my hip and thigh.
"Unless you have some, don't tease," I say as he sneaks his hand under my shirt. "I thought you might be up for a demonstration of your love."
"Is that so?" he asks, cupping my breast and thumbing my nipple. I moan as he lightly bites my neck. "Like this?"
I raise my head and look around. The others are far enough away, but I still feel slightly off balance, vulnerable from earlier. This position is the easiest and simplest for what I need. I'm not ashamed to admit that tonight I want the closeness it brings more than the orgasm.
"Yes, just like this," I affirm, unfastening my pants. He helps me push them down and kick them off.
He pushes his down far enough to free himself and press his hardening cock into the flesh of my butt cheek. His hand on my hip is gentle but firm. "You'll tell me if..."
I answer yes before the question can be finished; only it comes out more as a moan when his fingers find my clit. All other thoughts are lost as he works his magic on my body. His cock is hot and throbbing on my backside and I'm beginning to rethink my earlier decision on an orgasm.
Rearranging us, he pulls my leg over his and moves so I'm leaning on him more than not. He holds me securely as he eases himself into me. The first thrust is slow, it's an odd angle, but not unpleasant.
He stops, his heart pounding into my back.
"Logan?"
"Give me a sec," he grunts out. I want to tease him and grind down, but this isn't the right position for that. He moans with pleasure, "You're so..."
He doesn't finish the thought, knowing him it is something that will do him in if he says it out loud. Instead, his fingers are back on my bud starting a rhythm there. I wiggle and he groans; his breath in my ear, his body drawn tight from the strain. He rocks into me slowly, carefully.
His hand falters on my clit as his thrusting becomes faster, I tangle my fingers with his to keep the friction I need going. Biting my shoulder he tries to stifle the noise he makes when he comes. We make another stroke across my sensitive flesh and I shudder with my own orgasm.
Pressing a kiss behind my ear, he continues to cradle me. "Where are your boots?"
I laugh lightly. Pillow talk in our current situation is rarely sweet murmurings. Waving a hand toward the end of my nest, I answer, "Feet were cold."
"Want me to massage them?" he asks turning my pants properly and helping me put them on.
"No, they're pretty toasty now," I say. He winks at me and retrieves my boots, putting them on and tying them for me.
Logan snuggles back in behind me, carefully wrapping me up in his arms. He smoothes a hand over my growing belly. "Can I talk you into taking our girl to Hank's yet?"
I lay a hand on top of his. Another discussion we continue to have. He insists the baby is a girl and that I'm further along than calculated. I don't care boy or girl, but well the truth is it's all guesswork anyway. It's not like there are any sonogram machines laying around that we can use.
Early on we had talked about being careful. We did try. Or rather Logan tried, but sometimes I flung caution to the wind. Other times, well he'd throw me one of those looks I can't refuse. All it takes is one time of being careless and suddenly we are on our way to being parents in less than desirable conditions.
"Nope, women have babies all the time. Even during war." I turn my head and he leans over for a kiss. "Besides, I would worry more about you while I'm there than staying with you."
I slide his hand across my stomach to feel the movement of the baby. He grunts in amusement, smiling into the skin of my neck. I know right now that he is feeling the hope that we might make it out of this. That one day our daughter won't have to live like this. Patiently we wait for the next kick, one moment at a time.
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