Chapter 5: Rogue
Marie woke up feeling displaced. Her own eyes opened to the surroundings of their dark and cool bedroom, but she also saw outside of herself. Her mind was a paper kite, and her body dutifully held the string. She lay there for a long time, as if she was watching her body from above. This happened, sometimes. Often enough that she knew not to panic and that, eventually, her body would pull her mind in. In fact, Marie periodically wondered if, with all the people nestled inside of her brain, everything got too much for her body sometimes. The people she absorbed but didn’t kill eventually faded. The others, well. They stayed. She had a good handle on them all these days, but she was not completely immune to their baggage.
It had all started about an hour earlier, when she had stirred at his sounds. It was the rustling of covers, his heavy feet padding across the wooden floor. And, then, his voice in her ear. “I think I’m gonna spar with her.” She had practically smiled, purred in her semi-conscious state. A good day, then was the idle thought that floated across her mind. If he woke up being able to breathe, often that continued on throughout the morning and into the afternoon.
And it was during these times their whole world altered just slightly, the pressure and tension lessening, the temporary but encouraging feelings of peace intoxicating them all. She had fallen back asleep content, but now she was awake once more, and her mind was gone and the other side of the bed had gone cold with his absence.
Someday, it would always be like that.
Marie shuddered, willing that thought away and instead working on slowly summoning her mind back to her body. She lifted her hands in front of her face, focusing on what was here, what she could see. She stared at her fingers intently, eyes lingering on each wrinkled line, the now-visible veins threaded over the tendons in her hands. As she registered the nicks here and there, the occasional age spot, she realized she hadn’t studied her hands like this for a very long time.
After her hands, she decided to keep taking inventory. Her body, for the most part, still worked for her rather than against her. This was partially her own doing. She was now ritualistic about yoga, meditation, too. She had gained a little weight from those early days when she had reunited with Logan at Alkali, working on adding muscle. Still though, Marie would be forty-seven this fall, and her age had made itself known, settling just slightly in all the normal, telltale places she expected it would. Her long hair had more grey now, and it was slightly more evident, nestled as it still was amidst the dark brown and white. Her left shoulder had a lingering ache she could never quite work out, and she was starting to suspect arthritis had taken hold in the joint of one knee. Ultimately, however, these things were still minor. They were the things that signified the natural course of aging. And they were things she didn’t talk about, if only because whatever she felt was always unintentionally eclipsed.
Of course, there were parts of her, parts she couldn’t quite let go of, that were still a little selfish, a little vain. Logan never showed any sign that he was unsatisfied with how she looked, always responding with a Yer beautiful, darlin’ or Have you taken a good look at me, kid? , and she was grateful for his often and generous kindness.
Still though, there was no denying that they were both older, and she would be lying if she said there was something in her that sometimes pined for that cocksure grin and swagger of that deceptively looking thirty-year-old. Not for his physical appearance, no. That part of her, selfishly sometimes, was grateful Logan looked the way he did. The simple fact of the matter was they matched now. As she had begun to understand and respect the signs of aging, she realized it would have looked a bit ridiculous if he had still looked the way he had when she had first met him, swinging a leg off a Harley, dark brown hair slicked into points, immortally smirking. But it was the rest of it. The attitude that had come along with the leather jacket. The forthrightness, the assurance. The wind in his sails. Sometimes, on days not like today, he would become resigned, prone to long periods of being quiet. Logan had always been known to shut others out or simply escape from what he knew when things were amiss, but, now, there was nowhere to go. No motorcycle to take off on. And even if he could, she wasn’t so sure how far he would make it.
Marie frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. It’s a good day, she chanted to herself. Her mantra. She wouldn’t focus on the rest. She couldn’t. She realized through these ruminations that her mind was, in fact, finally finished returning, her body once more summoning the strength it needed to hold her in place. She still moved slowly to sit up, stretching out the achy shoulder before massaging it with her other hand. Her hair was everywhere, and she found herself instinctively running her hands through it, loosely braiding it as she did so. She had just finished working out the tips of the strands, tying it off with a band from her wrist, when she heard the door open.
“Morning, darlin’,” he said. His eyes were bright, and there was still a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he was shirtless and smiling. Smiling. She tried to focus on that, and not the fact that she could tell he had lost more weight recently. He was still all muscle, taught and hardened, but somehow he was also leaner. Just slightly…less. He needed to eat more, she thought. If he caught her looking him over he didn’t show it, and he was still grinning as he walked over to her side of the bed.
“Morning” she whispered, as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You guys have a good time?” she asked.
“Yeah…” he said, standing back up, taking a deep, unencumbered breath, working his own shoulder through a couple more light stretches. “Kid’s gettin’ stronger.”
“She kick your ass?” Marie asked playfully. Logan only chuckled.
“Not quite,” he said, although he sighed a little tiredly as he sat on the foot of the bed by her feet.
“Well, maybe next time, then. I’ve been working with her on those uppercuts, and teaching her how to use her core as a point of force,” Marie added. Logan’s lips turned upward into a smirk.
“You two ganging up on me?” he asked, as he intuitively took hold of her foot that had been peeking out from underneath the covers, massaging it gently.
“Maybe,” she said, a playful note in her voice as she pressed her foot into the outer side of this thigh. He arched his brow at her before crawling over her, forcing her once more into a prone position, his lips now lingering right near her ear.
“You’re gonna hafta pay for that,” he said devilishly, before gently lining up his teeth with the scar on the side of her neck.
“I haven’t even got out of bed yet. Haven’t brushed my teeth,” she said sheepishly.
“Like I fucking care about that,” he said into her ear. He moved in once more to attempt to lick the side of her neck, but she put an arm to his chest to slow him.
“Baby,” she protested weakly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him. It was just that Logan, true to form, solved many things he worried about with sex. Despite his condition, they managed to have it most every day. It was just something they weren’t willing to give up, to compromise on. Ever. Even when he felt especially bad, they often found themselves tangled up in each other in the darkest parts of the night, and often it was slow and winding, like a sad unyielding song. He was somehow more patient during these times, more inquisitive, as if pain made him more thoughtful to all the ways a body could be undone. And, of course, when he felt better, well…
“I wanna taste every fucking inch of you,” he murmured. Something deep within her ached at his words, and it took every part of her to try not to become distracted by what she was saying.
“Sugar,” she said, bringing her hand up to touch his bearded face, turning his head slightly so he was looking in her in the eye. Today wasn’t just about him feeling well though. The goddamn man was stalling. Although Marie could freely admit a three-hour drive to go to a monthly appointment with a mutant specialist was not anyone’s idea of a good time, it was crucially necessary.
“You know we can’t miss this,” she said, running a thumb lightly across a faint scar to the left of his nose.
“We can do whatever the fuck we want,” he growled, gripping her wrist tightly before bringing her hand down from his face.
“No, we can’t,” she said pointedly.
“You’re not going to let me off the hook, not just this once?” he asked, hands now running up underneath her sweater, thumbing her nipples lightly at first and then more roughly. She took in a sharp breath, before, stricken with a wild idea, she pulled him close to her, rolling them both over so he was underneath her and she was now straddling him.
“Atta girl,” he smirked up at her, thoroughly amused with the situation he now found himself in. She threw him a serious look as she met his eye.
“This is not for you… this , lover, is a display of dominance,” she said. He cocked a suspicious eyebrow at her, his right lip tugging up into a grin to show that he still looked damn pleased with himself. She squeezed her thighs around his waist once more in response to let him know she wasn’t joking around.
“Dominance, eh?” Logan’s eyes were dancing.
“We’re going,” she said.
He growled a little bit, and she returned it with a slight snarl back. That threw him. He tilted his head to the left, in the most adorably puppy-like way she had ever witnessed, obviously taken aback by her purely feral response.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t think being around the language of two feral mutants constantly means I haven’t picked up a few phrases?”
He growled approvingly once more before he reached up to bite her ear. She let him for a moment, before she pushed him back down into the mattress.
“Now,” Rogue’s voice dropped as she lowered her head to his own, words lingering in his ear. “Laura’s getting ready, and we both need showers. So you have five minutes to have your way with me sugar, so make the most of it.” He only rumbled approvingly in response, before he was whipping her around so her back was on the bed again, before dutifully diving between her legs.
--
An hour later, Marie stared down at the giant gift basket, the sheen of the clear wrapping and giant satin bow looking mildly ridiculous as it graced the fairly muddy doormat. This wasn’t their first care package, but it certainly was the biggest. She nudged it lightly with her boot, before sighing, bending down to heave it up in her arms, swinging the door shut with her foot before she set it down on the kitchen island and took a couple steps back, staring at the gift once more.
It was pretty much known or suspected that they were all a family of mutants. Logan and Marie had come up with a thin cover story about having fled to Canada when the political fallout in the United States got too bad, because Logan was originally from Alberta anyway. Marie, they had decided, also had a sister whose health had been declining and that was why she had not initially been with them when Logan and Laura had first settled here. They hadn’t really needed to reiterate this cover story to anyone, however; no one had asked. And certainly no one had come out and directly asked if they were mutants, but if the people in town suspected they all were or not, the town now knew Laura was, and that was enough. They had been showered with invitations and gifts, much to Logan’s shock and suspicion and Rogue’s general amusement, but now it was getting a little, well, much. They had been invited to church gatherings, spring socials, PTA meetings, even dinner parties. They had declined most of these things, with the exception of Marie periodically helping Jody, Cole’s mother, with a couple of initiatives regarding tribal anti-discrimination efforts in the community, but that was it.
Marie had just started picking through the package, seeing if she might be able to use any of what was there to help round out the spread she had planned for the dinner with Kay, when she heard Logan’s footsteps up the deck stairs. He was most likely deliberately making noise so she knew he was there in order not to startle her. She smiled faintly. He had taken Laura to school this morning, much to their mutual delight.
“Hell, another one?” he said, as he swung the door shut, stalking over to the kitchen island.
“Looks like it,” Marie said.
“When’s this shit gonna stop?” he asked, throwing the keys on the counter. He was in a workman’s jacket, jeans, a button down, his typical attire. Marie often wore jeans nowadays too, but opted for a sweater today, because the nights were still cool enough to warrant one.
“I dunno,” she said. “This one’s impressive…”
Logan sighed, before moving a bit closer to her, hand possessively resting on her hip.
“You were right,” he murmured, his breath on the nape of her neck.
“About what?” she asked.
“We were sorta sheltered back east, you know?” he murmured, leaning back slightly as she turned to look at him.
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to understand what he was getting at.
“Just...I guess we stuck around there for a reason. The notoriety, the fame. It’s somethin’ we never took to, ya know?”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“I warned the kid about some of it,” he muttered.
“What do you mean?” she asked, crossing her arms as she watched pass by her now to walk over to the basket, beginning to fumble through it.
“Just…you know. To keep her guard up. Either they’re obsessed with us or they hate us. Things can change,” he said. Then, picking up the card in the basket, he read, “‘ Welcome to the neighborhood.’ What a fucking riot. Laura and I have been here since last summer,” and then he was throwing the card down, sniffing around for the food. Rogue frowned a bit as she watched him.
“You think now that Transigen is disabled, at least up north, we’ll start seeing more mutants? Or more…discrimination?” she asked quietly. At this Logan stopped, looking up to her from where he had been rustling through the contents of the gift.
“Hell if I know, darlin’. I try not to think about it,” he said through another frown, before rustling about in the basket once more. “Ugh. there’s just a bunch of candy and shit in here. Laura’s gonna have a fucking field day, though.” Finally, he held up a bag of peanut M&M’s. “Road food,” he added, before tossing the candy at her, which she caught easily enough.
“What, you’re not fighting me on this one anymore?” she asked, staring down at the yellow and black packaging before looking up to him again.
“Nah. Not today,” he said through another stretch of his neck, before snagging the keys off the table once more.
“Why the change of tune?” she asked through an arched brow.
“I called in a favor. Pushed up some plans I had to today,” he said, as he walked back over to her, swinging the keys in his hand.
“What plans?” Marie asked. Logan only smirked, before moving to kiss the spot right under her earlobe.
“You’ll see when we get there,” he murmured softly into her skin.
--
The drive to Fort Smith was a relatively peaceful one, and Logan’s good mood had remained. He had insisted on being behind the wheel, and they both liked it that way. She lazily had her boots up on the dash now as they idly chatted. The conversation always ebbed and flowed, and when the cabin fell into silence, it was consistently in that familiar, comfortable way. At one point, she’d been languidly watching the snow melt off in the distance, when Logan had thrown a spare M&M at her. She grinned wickedly before pelting one back at him. He chuckled, and they both smiled.
Marie had stumbled on a few old Bob Dylan tapes in Kay’s shop, and now Time Out of Mind was playing from the tinny speakers of the Bronco. When she had discovered it, she had grinned ear-to-ear. The Bronco only had a tape player and a radio and Logan found himself caring for much for the two radio stations they could get up here, so she knew the find had been a valuable one. She had discovered what his favorite Dylan album was back at Xavier’s, when he had touted the vinyl record home from an old little music store in upstate New York he sometimes had frequented. Time Out of Mind was his favorite Dylan album, “the best” as far as he was concerned, far more precious to him than Highway 61 Revisited or Blonde on Blonde, even if he knew he was going against popular opinion. His best stuff was his later stuff, Logan had said that day he had brought the record back to Xavier’s, sliding it out of its sleeve and carefully placing it on the player. Rogue only smiled. She loved Blonde on Blonde and would always think it was better. Agree to disagree , she had said, even as she had settled in to listening to the record with him that day.
“You know, no one back there ever really got your taste in music,” she now teased, and only as she snagged another M&M out of the bag did she realize, a little too late, what she had said. Logan didn’t often like to talk about Xavier’s, and most of the time neither did Rogue. Still though, he only smiled at her, running his hand through his hair before turning the music up slightly.
“’Ro hated Dylan,” he said through a grin.
“ Now give me some of that Chuck Berry,” Marie said, quoting Storm. Logan laughed.
“That’s right, wasn’t it? She loved Chuck Berry. Well, that wasn’t such bad taste. But Michael Jackson,” he said through a shake of his head. “That I couldn’t forgive her for.”
“Better than Kitty and the Spice Girls,” Marie said through a laugh, as Logan visibly cringed.
“You girls and your shitty 2000 music,” he muttered. At this, Marie threw another M&M at him, which he easily dodged.
“Hey, don’t knock Y2K,” she said a little defensively, and he snorted. “There’s nothing wrong with Matchbox Twenty and Coldplay.” Logan only scowled, as Marie continued on. “Kitty loved Coldplay,” she said. “She’d make me sing along when we’d be getting ready in the morning, shared bathrooms and all.” Rogue was still smiling, but then something shifted, and her smile fell, as the shaky voice of Dylan singing to “Love Sick” still played in the background.
“I miss them,” she murmured.
“I know you do, kid,” he muttered, throwing a wary glance her way.
After a bit of silence, slowly another town started sliding up to meet them, and Marie realized, this time, it was Fort Smith. As the buildings started to multiply, she sat up a bit, especially when Logan took an unfamiliar left down a street a few away from where they typically turned.
“Logan, where are we-” she began asking.
“-I already told ya. I pushed up some plans. Gotta couple of things to do here first,” he muttered, before pulling into the roadside diner on the fringes of town. She stared at the neon sign of the giant burger, perplexed.
“You’re hungry?” she asked blinking at him. He smirked, but shook his head.
“No. I gotta friend in town,” he said through a grin. At this, Marie perked up even more.
“A friend ?” Marie asked, and Logan knew she wasn’t being rude. Logan and Marie used to have dozens of friends, friends so close they called them family, but now they only had each other. He was already getting out of the driver’s side door though, not having bothered answering her question, and Marie had to quicken her pace to keep up. The bell on the door rang, opening up to red vinyl booths and a checkered floor, a classic looking burger joint, verging on picking up with the lunch rush. As Marie glanced around, she realized. There, four booths down, sat Dani, nursing a hot chocolate. A wide smile broke out on Marie’s face. They hadn’t seen Dani since they had traveled north.
“Dani!” Marie couldn’t help but exclaim, and when Dani saw Rogue she smiled and stood, before giving the older woman a hug.
“Hi Rogue,” she said through a wide grin. “ Sensei Logan,” Dani said, through a small bow. Something about seeing the younger mutant lit up Marie’s orbit. Dani was one of the only other remnants of the past, of Xavier’s and the life she had so cherished. Marie was grinning hopelessly as they all sat, Logan in the booth beside Marie and Dani across from them.
“And I thought I lived up north. Jeez. It’s still cold up here,” Dani exclaimed. Rogue noticed that she had on only a fashionable jacket, hair done up in that way that younger women with a lot of time on their hands always had it. She was flawless, beautiful and womanly, despite the fact Rogue guess she was maybe only hovering around the age of twenty.
“Can I get you l something?” a younger woman asked, hovering over them with a pad of paper. Dani smiled politely, before slipping a twenty dollar note across the table. “About fifteen minutes of privacy,” she said sweetly. The woman raised her eyebrows, but only curtly nodded, taking the twenty and tottering off.
“Why are you here?” Marie asked, before realizing what she was saying, and adding a, “Not that I mind seeing you.” Dani smiled, before shooting a glance at Logan.
“Two reasons. Logan knows about one of them. He called this morning and set this up,” Marie looked at Logan through an arched brow, her curiosity over the whole situation returning. Meanwhile, Dani was still talking. “You surprised me when you suddenly wanted to meet today. You’re just lucky everything already arrived.” With that, Dani was grabbing a full-sized manila envelope from her bag and sliding it across the table toward Logan.
“What you asked for. Courtesy of Alpha Flight Intelligence Division,” she said, with a little nod of her head and a wink. Logan snorted a bit in response.
“Which consists of?” Logan asked, through one raised eyebrow. Dani only laughed.
“Me. And some very precious connections at the Canadian government. Let’s just say they owed us one.”
“Thanks, Dani,” he said, before placing a hand on the envelope that now lay between them. Marie looked down at the envelope, then back up to Logan and then to Dani, who was biting her lip a little nervously, obviously debating whether or not to bring up the second thing. She could hear Logan huffing beside her, the mood suddenly shifting toward uncomfortable.
“Dani, I know what yer gonna say, and I’m not having it,” he snarled.
“But if you’d just-” she began.
“-Absolutely not,” he said stiffly. Dani sighed, sitting back a bit and showing off a little immaturity, before she muttered under her breath, “It’s just an internship.”
Marie’s eyebrows raised at that. Internship?
“She’s eleven,” Logan grumbled.
“Almost twelve. And I was thirteen,” Dani willfully offered.
“You were at a school ,” he shot back.
“And does her school teach her everything she needs to learn?”
“Yer crossing a line,” he growled.
“Sorry. Look, Sensei. Like I said, internship. ”
“I think I know what this is about, but do you mind filling me in on the specifics?” Marie finally interjected.
“Alpha Flight’s trying to poach Laura,” Logan growled through his teeth, turning to Marie for the briefest of moments before settling his attention back on Dani.
“We’re not poaching anyone. Jean-Paul just wants to talk to her. Let her know, that when she’s old enough, she has options.”
Logan only scoffed, but Marie turned this over in her mind. It didn’t necessarily surprise her. She wondered if at some point, Alpha Flight would ever come knocking. They had relocated and found new homes for most of the children they had sprung from the facility, but there was no denying that Laura was, well, unique. A virtually indestructible skeleton, a healthy healing factor and a whole lot of grit were the same reasons Logan had been so valuable to the X-Men for so long. No doubt Alpha Flight had the same things in mind. They were not, of course, without their own motives.
“She’s a little young for any of that though, Dani,” Marie offered. Laura was dangerous, powerful, even, but she was still incredibly young. Still malleable. Although, in a few years… Marie resisted the urge to shiver at the thought. Heaven only knew what Logan’s daughter would be capable of at Dani’s age. Oddly enough, Marie’s thoughts suddenly flew to the Outta This World Dance! and she frowned. Lord help the boy or girl Laura ended up with. She would need to have a long, long chat with that individual, eventually.
“I said when she’s old enough . But, come on, Rogue, I’ve seen Laura rip out grown men’s jugulars with a foot claw and not think twice!” Dani exclaimed, and then when she saw Logan and Marie were both throwing her an alarming stare, she seemed to realize just how loudly she was talking, and she softly added, “You really think Laura’s gonna be, what, be a human resources officer or something? A mid-level business manager, pushing paper ?”
“ Kanojo wa watashitachi ga daredeatta ka de nayamasa rerubekide wa arimasen ,” Logan tottered off very quickly in Japanese, a low growl issuing from his throat as he did so. Marie only blinked at him. She often forgot Logan was fluent in the language, if only because he rarely spoke it off the karate mat, and it always surprised her when he did.
“You can hide her away in this remote tundra, but kanojo wa itsumo anata no kage ni sunde imasu,” Dani said, with a certain gusto Rogue was fairly impressed with, even if she didn’t quite take Dani’s meaning.
“You tell JP she’s not going near Alpha Flight,” Logan retorted, growling in response.
“She’d help save a lot of people,” Dani mumbled.
“And help kill how many more? She’s already got enough nightmares to last her the rest of her unnaturally long life,” Logan snapped, his grip tightening slightly on the unmarked manila envelope beneath his hand.
“Alright. Enough,” Marie said. They both turned to her, perhaps for the first time since the entire conversation started, and Marie continued on. “I think you both need to remember that Laura is her own person. And when she’s legally an adult, and not a moment before, Dani, she’ll make her own decisions about what sort of life she wants to lead.”
“Exactly my point, Rogue. Just let her know we exist, at least. Anata no josei ni mimiwokatamukeru, Sensei,” she said forcibly.
“You would’ve never spoken to me like that back in the day, Dani,” Logan snarled.
“But we’re not there, are we Sensei?” Dani asked, and something in her voice softened, almost breaking as she realized what she had said, and the tension at the table subsided. She sighed then, before pulling another object out of her bag, sliding it across the table.
“I figured you’d say no, so, at least take this,” Dani said quietly. Logan just stared at it for moment.
“What is that?” he asked, looking up to her suspiciously.
Dani blinked, before glancing up to him confusedly. “Uhhhh a cellphone. How old are you?” He threw her a nasty look that had her looking down and muttering, “ Shazai, sensei.”
“I know it’s a cell phone. Why do we need it?”
“Consider it an upgrade. An early birthday present for Laura, if you will,” she said. “It’s virtually untraceable. A substantial improvement from her current phone.” They both looked up to her then, and Dani rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on. We know she has a phone. We’ve tapped it a couple times, just to make sure the line is safe. It’s not. No one’s listening in, as far as we could tell, but they could if they wanted to.” Marie looked at Logan again, mildly disturbed, even as Dani continued on. “What? You can’t imagine that we don’t keep an eye on you all. Two of the most prolific members of the original X-Men team with a living mutant child, huddled under one roof? You’re lucky we didn’t place you all in some sort of hyperbaric bubble chamber.” Marie couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, even as Logan shot her an annoyed look. She had idly wondered if Alpha Flight knew or was even interested in their whereabouts, and now she realized that there was no way in hell the team was going to lose them all to the wind. Logan too, seemed to realize this, and he sighed, turning back to Dani once more.
“So this one’s…secure?” he asked. Dani nodded.
“So, complete honesty. This also has my number programmed in it along with a few others. Just, ya know, if Laura ever needs anyone to chat with.”
“She’s got us,” Marie found herself saying. At this, Dani smiled.
“And she’s lucky she does,” Dani said. “Look, it’s not…for trying to recruit her. Trust me, I’m sure every year for the next six years JP will try to do that. It’s just… if she, you know, wants to talk to someone closer to her age. Who’s also a mutant,” she winked at them both, before Marie slid took the phone from the middle of the table and gently dropped it into her bag next to her.
“Dani, we’d invite you back with us, but we’ve got-” Marie started, before Dani cut her off.
“A doctor’s appointment. I know,” she said. “Like I said, we’re keeping tabs.”
“We’d happily have you over later for dinner if you like. We already have some company coming but I’m sure we could make room,” Marie offered, but Dani was already politely shaking her head through an apologetic smile.
“I wish I could. But I’m needed south. I’ve got a teleporter picking me up in ten.” With that she stood, casting one more glance in Logan’s direction, before gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “We know you’re done, Logan, Rogue. But I want you to remember that the fight’s not over.”
“It never is,” Logan muttered.
“True,” Dani said through a small frown. And then, bowing her head slightly, she added, “Mata au made, Sensei Logan.”
“ Sayōnara, Dani,” he murmured, as he watched walk out of the diner.
Marie turned her head to stare after the younger mutant the whole way out of the diner. “Boy, she’s a pistol. All grown up.”
“Hell, she was a pistol back then too. Happens fast,” Logan said, before turning back to the envelope still under his hand. And then he was gently nudging it in her direction.
“No use stalling now. I want you to open this,” he said. Brown eyes met hazel as she stared at him hesitantly. She carefully picked up the envelope and she slowly opened the metal fastener. There were several crisp papers inside, and Marie instantly realized what some of documents were. New identification cards and social insurance numbers. Passports, too. All of it there, and all of it accurate. Even a proper birth certificate for Laura. Marie took her time with this one, smiling faintly as she read the partially false lies printed on the very official-looking certificate.
Certificate of Live Birth. Laura Gabriella Howlett. Date of Birth: 25 June 2018. Female. Location of Birth: Edmonton. Mother: Gabriela Rodriguez (Deceased)
Laura looked at it, smiling sadly. “Gabriela… was that Laura’s…?” But Logan was already shaking his head.
“No,” Logan said. “I never…I never found out her mother’s name. Nobody knew. But Gabriela was…a woman that helped her. The woman who contacted me.” The woman I let die. She practically heard that last remark in the air, even though he hadn’t said it. She had heard the story enough now to know what Logan thought about Gabriela’s death. Marie bit her lip, before looking through the rest of the envelope’s contents.
It was a fairly thick stack of official-looking paperwork, firmly stapled at the top. Marie handled it carefully, eyes flying over a page that was flagged with a small post-it note first.
Full Name of Birth Father: James Charles Howlett
Date of Birth: 25 December 1970
Below this, there was a line with Logan’s scrawl, a blocky signature he used when signing documents. And underneath that:
Full Name of Adoptive Mother: Anna Marie D’Ancanto
Date of Birth: 11 November 1983
And under that, a blank line, ready to be signed.
“You…” she stuttered and stopped. This was adoption paperwork. Joint custody. He was offering her joint custody of Laura. He was asking for Marie to adopt her. Marie’s eyes lingered on the word Mother, feelings of fear and love and guilt and pride threatening to inundate her all at once. Her hands shook slightly as she gripped the form she held, looking up to him once more.
“Yeah, kid,” he muttered, moving to tuck a strand of platinum hair behind her ear.
“But…” she tried once more, but then stopped, as he began to speak.
“I-I could’ve had arranged to have it forged. Hell, I could have the documents doctored to show you as her mother, but I didn’t think that was fair to either of you. Keep it as real as possible, yeah? But I thought, at least this. But also that I’d ask you first. Let you make the decision to sign.”
Marie breathed out unsteadily, as she cradled the paperwork in her hands, before looking back up at him, unable to stop a hot tear from rolling down her cheek.
“She’s half yours, if you’ll have her,” he murmured.
“Of…of course. But does Laura…?” she began.
“I already asked her,” Logan said, before his brow furrowed slightly, and he gently took the paperwork from her, setting it down on the table.
“Listen, Marie. If this is somethin’ you want, you gotta take the decision seriously,” he said, pointing to the form with his index finger. “I know you’ll take care of her. There’s no doubt about that. Hell, you’ve been taking care of both of us lately-”
“Baby,” she stumbled, before he shushed her.
“Lemme finish. What I’m tryin’ to say is… if you sign this, right now, obviously she’d be half yours. But later, when I’m gone, kid, this means she’d be all yours. For long as you both are alive. And that ain’t something to sign up for lightly.”
“When…you’re gone...” she stuttered. She could barely breathe. She looked around the diner wildly, anywhere but at him, as her mind grappled with the charge he had given her. Of course she would take care of Laura. Had planned on it since the beginning. But, from Logan, this acceptance, this level of formality, what it all meant…. oh god.
“Hey,” he barely murmured as he realized she was coming undone, and then he was quickly abandoning all attempts at English and gave in to that other language, that different way of speaking. He uttered a possessive growl, before gently pulling her closer so that she was leaning into him. A few more silent tears ran down her cheeks, and she could do nothing other than lay her head against his chest as he gently stroked her hair for several long moments, murmuring incomprehensible sounds, soothing rumbles and gentle growls into her ear. She was fluent enough in the language now to understand. There was no way his meaning, no matter how animalistic it sounded, could go unmissed. I don’t want to leave you. But if I have to, this is what I want. She whimpered slightly in quiet acknowledgement, and his grip on her shoulder tightened.
Finally, after some time passed, he was tucking a hand under her face, lifting her head up from where she had lain it on his chest, both of them coming back to the more human parts of themselves. His eyes were wide but dry, a newfound resolve etched into his features.
“Chin up, kid,” he said, even as he swiped his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a lone teardrop as he did so. “I’ve got an appointment, right?”
“Right,” Marie managed to say, grabbing an unused napkin off the table and wiping her eyes once more, before staring back at him.
“Then let’s go,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I better not miss it.”
--
The specialist had a small, discreet practice, and Marie had found her by using a couple of her connections she still maintained with mutants’ rights groups. She had a background in genetics, but she had also been studying up on heavy metal poisoning for Logan and Marie’s sake, which she had diagnosed Logan with upon arrival. Although she had given them a rough guideline to the signs and symptoms Logan likely might experience based on other metallic compounds like lead and chromium, Logan was unique in his exposure to adamantium, so ultimately they were unsure of just how much, and how quickly, his health would fade.
Of course, he was on a heavy round of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication. This had, for a time, helped them hobble along, but now there were new concerns. His respiratory system had obviously been compromised, as the hemoptysis suggested. Of course, there were also the concerns with Logan’s susceptibility to infection now too. His immune system, in part from his waning healing factor and in part from the metal inside of him, was shot. Even under several rounds of antibiotics, Logan had been under strict instructions to not use his claws, because the constant wounds he created were prone to infection. The worst of it, though, and what was lately most concerning, was the trembling. Logan was exceptionally skilled at hiding it, but on their last visit, the specialist had guessed that the adamantium’s next victim would be the peripheral nervous system, and from there, the central.
It was after that appointment Logan insisted on going in there alone.
Her clinic was in a small, nondescript bit of office space downtown, and Logan had left Marie with a kiss on the forehead and a squeeze of her hand, insisting once more to go himself. She hadn’t fought him on it, if only because she felt like he deserved his dignity, his pride, and if he felt like it was somehow weakened by her presence, Marie knew better than to be there. She also knew, or at least she hoped, he would be honest with her about any new developments. And if he wasn’t…well. That was his decision to make.
The last couple of appointments Marie found herself killing time by perusing a little used bookstore, and often spent the hour or so the appointment typically took staring at the titles crammed floor-to-ceiling on its shelves. She had initially been enamored with it, so many books lost to the sands of time wedged haphazardly into mostly-disorganized rows, but, lately, things had changed, and upon entering the store again, intent on facing her fears and sniffing around for some books for Laura, she realized she still felt claustrophobic.
She knew she hadn’t read in two months, could hardly stand picking up a book. Every time she tried, she was yet again reminded of the last book she had read. The one about the woman’s husband keeling over in the middle of the apartment living room from cardiac arrest.
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.
Marie shuddered, before forcing herself to round another corner, now intent on cookbooks, which felt like more friendly territory. There had only been one other time in her life that she hadn’t been able to read, and that was after the hysterectomy. She had been alone then, and she would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been afraid, hadn’t pined for and simultaneously mourned over Logan in every way possible. The day after the surgery she had felt sore and empty, and it was then that she wept for all the things she had missed, all the little children or babies or bits of starlight that she would never help create, that would always be winking at her, somewhere far off and untouchable. She would have given anything to have had him by her side then, even though she would never tell him that. And now. Now.
Adoptive mother. The words were seared into her mind. Marie supposed, in many ways, she had been already acting in a motherly fashion towards Laura, at least with whatever she could summon up, having no true experience in the matter. It was an amalgamation of gestures of friendship and some of her old teacher bravado, of common sense and compromise. Laura liked her, that she knew, and she liked Laura. They didn’t always understand each other, but they genuinely enjoyed one another’s company. Sometimes, even, especially in the past few weeks, Laura had taken to deliberately being more physical in her approach to Marie, choosing to lean her head on her shoulder or take her hand sometimes, nuzzling up against her while Marie told Laura a story of the X-Men late at night, after Logan had long-since fallen asleep.
Was Papa very brave?
Oh, he was the bravest. Just like you.
Marie frowned slightly again, shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets. Of course she had signed the paperwork. Had rustled about for a pen in her purse and when she had finally found one had easily scrawled her signature next to Logan’s. She offered to mail the documentation back herself. It wasn’t that she was unwilling.
It was just that she was terrified.
How long? It had been the question on her mind since she had taken in his grey hair and scarred face and limping gait after hopping off the helicopter. He hadn’t needed to say anything. She knew, even then the reason why. The question now was simply: How long did he have left? And maybe, now…that wasn’t even the real question. Perhaps the real question bordered more along the lines of How long did he have left that he could tolerate?
Because that was it. That was the difference. Logan would only tolerate so much, up to a certain point, no matter who was in his life. And the paperwork today, all the careful consideration and thought that must have gone into planning it, that’s what scared her.
Marie stared at the brightly colored spines of the cookbooks, most of them advertising different ways to make a soufflé, before she realized there was an odd, blocky sort of book shoved on top of the others, precariously balanced by the thick spines of how to create the perfect holiday dinner and how to brine a turkey.
War and Peace. It was a thick paperback copy, the cover practically falling off, Marie noticed. They already had two copies back at the house, but still she worked on dislodging it from its hiding spot anyway. Her frown changed, her lips curving upward slightly, as she brought it closer to her, smelling the old, faded yellow of the paper. She carefully opened the cover, checking for an inscription, an age-old habit of hers she always partook in when she encountered old books, but found none. Still, she cracked the spine, turning to the first words on the page, loved and familiar.
“WELL, PRINCE, Genoa and Lucca are now no more than private estates of the Bonaparte family. No, I warn you, that if you do not tell me we are at war, if you again allow yourself to palliate all the infamies and atrocities of this Antichrist (upon my word, I believe he is), I don't know you in future, you are no longer my friend, no longer my faithful slave, as you say. There, how do you do, how do you do? I see I'm scaring you, sit down and talk to me."
Marie frowned slightly, as she cradled the book to her chest, once more closing the cover. Logan had liked War and Peace. Marie now knew that he had read it several times over. But what had he said about it that first time? Something about the ending? It’s not good, and it’s not bad. S’real. I like that too.
That’s when she blushed. His words, that whole speech had been the impetus to what had followed. That night. The night they had first made love. It had been… intense. Exceptionally erotic. The tiny scar on his hand from cooking. The haunted, dark look in his eyes. Claws hinting in moonlight. His body, carved and beautiful, like it always was. He had had her up on the counter and then down on the floor. His fingers had explored her. His tongue, god, the way it lapped at her wetness, wanting to taste everything, consume her in every possible way. Not so different from how he had feasted on her this morning. Not so different, and yet… when things were more simple, before…before….
Marie jumped as her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she whipped it out to read the text from him.
“All done” it read. “Meet me at the car?”
Realizing her cheeks were hot, she bit her lip, before slipping to the front of the store, handing the cashier a ten dollar note and carrying the book out with her. She found him there, leaning up against the side of the Bronco, arms crossed, and she found it impossible to tell if there had been good news or bad news or no news at all. Her cheeks were still flushed, the place between her legs was still wet, and her hands were still clammy as she clutched the book to her chest, muttering a “H’lo” as she made her way to him.
“Marie…what’s..?” he began, before immediately stopping. One sniff. That’s all it took. A heady, involuntary growl rose in his throat as he began to understand, even as she muttered, “Sorry…I…what did the doctor say?”
“Nothin’ new,” he barely made out, predatorily moving a step closer to her.
“No?” she asked, her throat suddenly raspy and raw.
“Just…called in the prescription,” he managed.
“Okay,” she said, blinking at him once more before he growled again, this time more savagely.
“Get in the fucking car, Marie,” he ordered.
--
They had barely made it out of town when Logan had pulled off the road into a small clearing, as a few geese took off from where they had been settled in the field. No one had spoken, but Logan had been breathing heavily, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. She had absorbed enough of him in the past to know that her scent was driving him mad. It had to be. Just then, he killed the engine, turning roughly toward her.
“In the back. Now,” he finally ground out. He was already climbing out and slamming the driver’s side door and opening up the back as she climbed into the open area that sometimes serves as a backseat, but was more often used as a lounging space. A few blankets had been spread out, more for long day drives and the occasional camping trip when Logan felt up for it, and now they were wholly convenient.
He climbed over her, both of their movements raw and desperate. Clumsy, too, as they learned how to maneuver in the back of the Bronco. He bit her lip, she ran her tongue over his. He rolled her over, and they accidentally slammed into the side of the car’s interior. Marie yelped out of surprise more than anything, and he chuckled slightly. Just as repositioned them both, his hand then slipped on the sheer fabric of her sweater and he fell down on his elbow. She repaid him by giggling. He growled irritatedly quickly becoming impatient with the silliness of it all, as he pinned her beneath him, his hands now roughly holding her hips. Most of their clothes were still on, but he easily unbuttoned her jeans, working them off her ass just enough so he could shove two thick fingers inside her. She cried out, not caring who heard, as he rumbled approvingly, removing his fingers almost entirely from inside her before roughly shoving them back in once more. She cried out again, unable to help herself.
“Gonna make you come, and I want ya to describe it for me,” he muttered into her ear.
“ Sugar ,’ she managed to say, and he chuckled, slowing his pace slightly.
“You can do better than that,” he joked, and she began to snarl at him.
“Uh uh,” he said. “Enough of that. English. English now,” he demanded, even as he explored her with his fingers. Marie was always astonished by the fact that, even though he knew every inch of her, he approached her each time with a healthy level of curiosity, like there were still secrets nestled inside her body just waiting for him to draw out.
“It feels… god,” she stuttered, as he quickened his pace, “Tight. Stretched around you. Pressure.”
“Yeah?” his voice was only a heady rasp. “Keep going. Keep telling me how it feels.”
“Full. I feel… full,” she murmured, right as he added a third, and she moaned louder.
“You feel me here?” he said roughly.
“Yes,” she hissed.
“I’m with you,” he said, and she struggled to breathe, a thick thumb rolling over her clitoris as he worked her, and she gripped his shoulders tightly.
She cried out, and he paused. He was holding her there, right on the precipice, and he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. Not yet. He moved off her momentarily before heading downward, settling his face between her legs, fingers still inside her as he replaced his thumb with his mouth, rolling the bundle of nerves between his tongue, licking and sucking and gently biting down until he had her seeing stars, on the edge of some sort of desperate oblivion.
She made a sound that wasn’t human, and he tore away from her, panting, as he gave her a slight shake of his head.
“Words, Marie,” he chastised, before his mouth was on her again.
“God, oh god,” she mumbled as he quickened the pace of his fingers. “Shaking. Hot. Tight. Slippery.” He rumbled low and deep, urging her to continue. He licked up the side of her folds, tongue once more flicking her center.
“Undoing me. L-Like unraveling. Like thread. Like you’re…you… oh fuck oh god,” and then she screamed as she felt herself come around his mouth, a new wetness all over everything, even as he lapped at her, quickly cleaning her, before he moved upward, and then she was gripping him tightly as he sank into her in every way possible, his length filling her while his teeth found a home in the delicate skin of her neck, the blossoming feelings of searing heat and pleasure spiraling outward.
He finally broke away from her skin enough to whisper “Pain?” before licking her skin once more.
“Yes,” she hissed. He still had her pinned, holding her down roughly in the back of the
Bronco, unmoving.
“Full? Tight?” he asked again.
“ Yes,” she moaned, bucking her hips up slightly to get him to move, but still he refused.
“Feels tight for me too. Hot and slick. Swallowed all up in your legs, you holdin’ me here. Harborin’ me.”
“ God yes ,” she mumbled. “Logan…”
“Gonna move now. Can’t fucking stand it anymore, M’rie,” he managed. She only moaned, growled a little as he lifted his body back and then shoved his entire length deep within her again. And again. And again. He commanded all of her senses, the sounds of his groans and snarls, the smell of aftershave and her own come on him, the close-up sight of his stubble, the coiled muscles of his neck, the slickness of sweat, the feel of hot skin, rougher than hers but still taught, even underneath the scars, and the taste… god the taste of him.
Then he slammed into more roughly, and the poetry was gone. Words, abandoned.
He fucked her harder than he had in weeks, taking full advantage of this buen dia, even as the Bronco groaned under their weight. She cried out, and it was rough and hard and somehow smooth and gentle all at the same fucking time. Some distant part of her mind knew what they were up to. After the emotion of earlier what they needed to feel. He commissioned her, demanded her to feel it, to feel it, to feel something…oh god. The song. What were the fucking words to the song? Something had broken open, and she realized too late there was a steady leak of air, and she felt the hissing, the buzzing before she could stop it. He was groaning, beginning to let go of all voluntary function and it was she all could do but hold on, even as her skin burned, greedily taking more than what was natural. He knew it was happening too, but he did nothing to move away from her, as he spent himself inside her. She cried out as a swell of his emotions of paindesperationsadnessfutilityloveprideangerjoy flowed into her as well, and she was lost in the feeling of him losing himself as the pleasure now swept her in the current too, and her muscles were convulsing, throbbing around him, a new pain sprouting in her belly from coming again so soon, the feeling of it all disorienting and raw. She struggled, slipped and stumbled to turn off her skin, to close the open line between them, and finally she felt herself do it, finally stuffing a finger in the hole of the dam. God. Holy fucking god.
He let her go, and she rolled out from underneath him in an instant. She looked at him with a desperate attention, checking to make sure he was ok, in one piece, even as the rolling waves of pleasure from both of their orgasms still radiated within her. He seemed fine however, breathing out steadily, looking thoroughly sated, albeit a bit breathless.
“ Holy fuck,” he growled. “Jesus, I forgot what that felt like.”
“S-Sorry,” she said, blushing a deep shade of crimson.
“Huh?” he murmured confusedly. “You didn’t mean to do that?” he asked.
“ No!!” she said, looking around wildly, obviously panicked. Her head throbbed with the smell of larch and pine and musk and birch and earth and rain as she simultaneously felt her shame and his wildness, her concern and his heartache.
“Hey,” he said, realizing she was overwhelmed and moving to sit up a little before just as quickly leaning back. “Whoa. Dizzy.” The look on her face must have contorted into something pained, because then he added. “Not bad, darlin’. It was just a little bit. I’m alright. Just…C’mere.” And he drew her closer to him once more and she finally relinquished her fear that she would hurt him again, trying to regulate her frantic breathing as she dealt with the onslaught of senses.
“Sorry. I’m just...rusty,” she muttered, embarrassed.
“It’s a lot to feel, isn’t it?” he asked her honestly.
“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes, and she felt his grip on her tighten.
“Here…just use what I gave you. Turn it back on itself. Take a moment. Listen with me. Let the world distract you.” She exhaled deeply, trying to remember her meditation rules. Focus. The sounds. Sticks settling, grass twitching, birds calling out, the wind in the milkweed, his deep breathing, his steady, stubborn heartbeat. He was right. After several long, winding moments, her mind did begin to settle as it got used to processing everything it was taking in.
“I can’t believe you hear all of this all the time,” she finally murmured after things quieted down.
“I know it’s a lot. But kinda beautiful too, ya know?” he asked, rubbing her arm gently. She opened her brown eyes and looked at him.
“Yes,” she whispered, and he smiled at her. “God, it’s been…years… since I’ve lost control like that,” she finally said.
“Glad I was the one to do it to ya,” he joked. She could feel him smirking a bit, and she lifted her face up to look at him, letting him know she was serious.
“I could have really hurt you,” she murmured. He was already shaking his head.
“Nah. No way. How much did you even take?” Marie quickly assessed. Heightened senses, no real animal urges. No clear memories.
“Not all that much, in the end,” she murmured.
“See?” he said, before tightening his grip around her, before carefully adding, “Any thoughts…?”
“No. Just… like impressions.”
“Yeah? Like what?” he asked gently.
“Sadness, futility,” she said through a quiet voice, and then she bit her lip as his hazel eyes lingered on her features.
“Kid….I-” he began, before he immediately stopped himself.
“What?” she asked. His eyes darkened a little, but he only shook his head.
“S’nothing,” he muttered, but he didn’t take his stare off her.
She frowned at him, trying to figure out what he had tried to say, before she watched his lips turn upward into another smile. She was the one to cock her head at him now, all the more confused.
“What?” she asked again.
“That look,” he said, eyes dancing.
“What look?”
He only chuckled, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip, and she could still taste herself on his fingers.
“You look nothing older than seventeen when ya do that. Pout that little lip of yours,” he rumbled, flashing her another smile. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed, glancing downward quietly.
“That was a long time ago,” she muttered.
“Feels like yesterday,” he said simply.
She stopped, considering this, before she looked up to him darkly. “Even though we were different people to each other,” she said, before she could help herself.
“Not so different,” he muttered, running a finger down a streak of platinum hair. She said nothing in return, and he once more brought a hand under her chin to lift her gaze upward just like he had in the diner.
“Hey…what did I say? Chin up, kid,” he said. She smiled, albeit a bit sadly, and when that didn’t satisfy him, he snuck an arm around her, leaning in and kissing her forehead once more, as if he was keeping her mind steady, keeping it all in place. And then, out of nowhere, he chuckled slightly, and she once more threw him an incredulous look.
“What?” she asked. He only grinned.
“I was just thinkin’ how it’s about fucking time we christened this damn vehicle,” he laughed.
She smiled widely back at him. “Seems appropriate,” she mumbled. And then, he smacked her ass lightly, moving to sit up. “Come on, kid. We’re already running late, and I wanna pick up Laura and surprise her.”
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