Rogue stretched, taking in the smell of coffee and bacon. She wondered if that was the remnants of his mutation making breakfast smell too intense or if it was her hunger and the smallness of the cabin. Either way, she was starving and thought she best get a move on.
Throwing off the blanket she'd wrapped herself into, she took in the state of the bed. It looked no worse for wear; most of the blood had been in the comforter and the sheets. Logan had stripped and washed those last night before she lay down.
In a chair next to the bed, the sheets waited all neatly folded to be put back on. For a man that she was beginning to think was trying to go full on mountain man, he sure did know how to fold laundry.
Who was she to pick on looks anyway? She now stood out with the white streaks in her hair. With his beard an even length, he fit in better with some of the men she had seen up this way. His hair would always be wild no matter the length. None of that was why she loved him.
There it was. She stood in the doorway watching him cook and knew that in less than a week she'd fallen in love. Not with the man that bought her things and paid her way, but with the gruff man she glimpsed beneath it all. The man she'd seen in his memories last night.
Sadly, she already knew it wasn't meant to be. He was on a downward spiral and she was floating aimlessly looking for meaning in her life. She decided then and there to make the best of it until they parted ways.
Logan could feel her staring, and for the first time he could remember, he was self-conscious. He still couldn't shake the feeling that she saw right through him. "Eggs are almost done," he said gesturing to the bacon.
She padded over and chewed on a piece of bacon. He glanced at her leaning against the counter. She hadn't changed out of his t-shirt she'd slept in. He had to admit she looked real good and he'd take a side of that with his breakfast.
He shook his head; he had to stop thinking that way. The snow hadn't let up yet and at this rate, they would be there a solid three days or more. She didn't need some lecherous old man taking advantage of her, despite the fact that he was beginning to care for her.
They stood together at the counter eating their breakfast. He tried to think of a way to explain what had happened, but he felt it sounded too "out there". At worst she would think he was delusional, at best that he was a drunk. Why the hell did her opinion matter anyway? He never cared what anyone thought and yet he didn't want her to think badly of him.
The longer they stood in silence, the guiltier Rogue felt. She had seen him start to say something several times, only to huff in frustration and close his mouth. From his memories and his demeanor earlier this week she knew he was a man of few words and not given to long explanations.
It might help if she started. "I don't blame you for last night." Staring at their feet next to each other she knew they were just two people lost in the world. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it lightly; maybe they weren't so alone after all. "It just happened."
He was shaking his head at her, "I tried to kill you."
She snorted at his assertion. "No," she began. He needed to know that she had seen who he was and she was okay with it. "My mutation takes memories too. I know you don't go around killing indiscriminately."
Great. He scrubbed his hands over his face. He'd been wrong, there was a worse case scenario. She saw through him because she knew exactly what he'd done in the past. "You're wrong," he said weakly. "I've done it before."
Sighing, she pushed away from the counter and left him in the kitchen. There was no arguing this until he saw his own way through. "You are the only one blaming you for what happened to her," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked out.
Making the bed helped ease her mood; Rogue could hear him doing the same thing by clanging plates and pans around. Weren't they a pair, having their first argument. That thought took all the wind out of her sails. They were not a couple and nothing was going to happen after the Yukon.
Laundry awaited her and she spent the next couple of hours washing everything in her bag. Her old coat and the duffle bag itself got a wash for good measure. There wasn't much more she could do so it was time to quit avoiding him.
Logan had turned on the radio and finally found a staticky station that gave weather updates in between country and western songs. One of the cabinets had some liquor and he poured himself a whiskey. By the time she approached him again, he'd taken over the couch, empty glass on the floor beside him.
She sat next to him, having yet to change out of his t-shirt. "Washer's all yours," she said, trying to break the ice.
He merely grunted, keeping his eyes closed pretending to relax.
"So a few more days?" She was persistent.
"After the snow stops," he confirmed.
"Tonight like the weatherman says?" she asked.
He got a distinct feeling. since she wasn't giving up on talking, that she was leading up to something. "Probably."
"Hmm, then I guess I better get comfy," she said, laying down on top of him and resting her head on his chest.
"There are chairs," he said gruffly.
"Yeah, but this is the comfy spot," she retorted. Then waved a hand toward one of the chairs. "Those look like they've never been used."
He refused to concede the point even though she was right; the couch had been broken in while the chairs were pristine. She didn't seem inclined to move and he let her be. It would be a nice gesture to make up for earlier, he reasoned.
"This is nice," she commented picking up her head.
Lifting his head, he looked at her and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Marie gave him a lazy smile. "You. Me. Out here all alone. The world and its problems far away."
He returned her smile, the first time he'd done so, before laying his head back down. Sighing to himself, he had to admit she was right once more. He wouldn't mind staying here and letting the world pass them by. However, they were living in borrowed space so that wasn't a possibility.
"Should get some lunch," she suggested sleepily.
After he agreed, they both stayed put. Sometime later he moved enough to relieve an arm that kept trying to fall asleep. He glanced at her, breathing lightly as she slept, her hair spread out across his chest.
The next time he opened his eyes, Marie was trying to snuggle into him more. The room had taken on a chill and he realized the electricity that had been flickering some during the morning had finally gone off, along with the most of the afternoon.
"Hey, Marie," he moved underneath her. "Need to get the fireplace going."
"You do that," she mumbled burrowing into him further.
Chuckling, Logan carefully moved out from under her. He did hate to leave the peace of the couch, but he could only do so much to keep her warm on his own. She harrumphed at him as he worked to get the pilot light on the gas insert lit.
Rogue drug herself from the couch and into the bedroom. Pulling on a pair of sweats and an extra shirt, she walked back toward the kitchen.
"I'm starving," she stated, bypassing the fridge for the pantry. She knew from experience that it was best to make something quick and easy in a power outage. "How about stew from a can and crackers?"
"Sounds fine," Logan answered, turning the fireplace's thermostat to a reasonable level. He handed over the matches for the stove before getting out a few more blankets for later.
They sat at the table, the late afternoon light and the fireplace providing enough light to eat by. As they finished he needed to know, "How much?"
"Huh?" was all she could manage around her mouthful of cracker.
"Memories," he clarified. With the way she looked at and treated him, she must not have gotten as big a dose as she hinted at.
Rogue had hoped they wouldn't have this conversation. People didn't like others knowing their private thoughts. She knew he was even more sensitive to his privacy than others. "Enough?" she answered hoping to placate him.
A stony stare met her. Sighing heavily she took their bowls to the sink and busied herself heating water. "You're one of those elusive X-Men. Been with them since..." Hesitating, she searched for the right idea. That period of time had something to do with his claws; there was no solid picture of that or before. "A long time."
It was the best she could do; from the way he nodded it was enough of a description. "You run around saving people, fighting bad guys and you're," she blushed. At his quirked eyebrow, she cleared her throat, "not celibate."
He grunted at that. Not that he was embarrassed by that, but he liked that she blushed at the thought. Above all, she was painting a rosy picture of his life, about as far from reality as one could get.
"Anyway, I have a better idea of that freak accident at Alcatraz last year being more about you saving the whole lot of us. Not some rare explosion story that gets passed around."
Logan stared out the window, the snow had finally stopped. The clouds hadn't dispersed yet but hung low in the sky. "Not a hero."
"Okay," her voice held a dismissive quality that let him know he wouldn't be changing her mind.
He could really use a drink right now. This trip was started so he could sort things out and before he picked her up he was sure that he was the lowest of human life. It hadn't mattered what any of them said. The Professor, Storm, even Scott were just glad to be alive. They didn't have to live with slicing Jean open and having her die in their arms.
Rogue finished what little clean up she could in the kitchen and walked over to where he still sat at the dining table. Hugging him from behind, she rested her chin on his head. "Wish I had words of wisdom for you."
He huffed a little but didn't send her away. Her touch brought him a measure of calm.
"I used to think if I held onto something tight enough it wouldn't slip through my fingers." She had tried that with her parents, Eddie, and Savannah; it hadn't helped.
She kissed him on the top of the head and walked toward the bedroom. "You come up with any sage advice, you let me know."
In the bedroom, she looked through her socks for the thickest pair. About the time she decided to borrow some of Logan's, she heard him go outside. Pulling on the extra socks, she went to peek out the front window.
She couldn't make out much except the glow of his cigar as he stood on the porch. It all seemed futile; if only she could help but she knew that wasn't possible. Rogue had left before Savannah had hit bottom. There was no magically fixing someone else's problems and she wasn't willing to watch a person self-destruct.
Walking into the panty, she fumbled around for the battery run lantern she'd spied earlier. With it, a blanket, and a handful of magazines she'd found she settled herself on the couch. It had been a long time since she'd been able to sit and read.
Sometime later she heard Logan at the door and the cold air made it's way to her. It struck her at how quiet he was. Most people went around making as much noise as they could, but not him. She knew he was hanging up his coat and taking off his boots but there was barely a whisper of sound from him. There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask about his life, as a second-hand view didn't always give a full picture.
Logan could see that Marie had found that little lantern and had moved an end table to the back of the couch so she could read. The cold evening air had done him wonders. He'd been so wrapped up in life at the mansion for too long, he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a break with no obligations hanging over his head.
Or maybe it was the fact that when he entered the cabin Marie's smell greeted him. Warm, inviting, calling to him. He could envision himself waking up to this, no to her every morning. Opening the door every evening and feeling instantly at home.
Studying her in the dim light, he was already trying to put aside the thought that by the end of the week she would be gone. She looked up, beaming him a smile. When she drew her feet up for him to join her, he could see the other blanket she'd brought out for him. For the second time, that day he returned her smile and life seemed to fall into place.
That night under a truckload of blankets, way too many for him, she snuggled into him and slept. He woke up several times, turning over to find her glued to him. Finally, he gave up trying to untwine himself and curled around her smaller form and wondered why he hadn't done this sooner.
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