Interview #1
Marie stared at the woman sitting across the booth from her. Nona, she said her name was. One of Logan's old flames.
"Please," Marie said, "I need to find him." Quietly, she laid the drawing of Logan down on the table.
Reaching for it, Nona said, "Hon, if he doesn't want to be found, there ain't no way you're gonna find him."
"Shit."
The bartender came over then, looking annoyed. "Uncle Pete's looking for you, Nona. Very rude to keep an old and valued customer waiting while you chat with this... person."
"Wait here," Nona said to Rogue as the bartender walked away, "and I'll be back when I'm done with Uncle Pete."
Xavier's not going to like this, the girl thought as she waited. You promised to stay in touch, Logan, so why the hell haven't you?
Zeroing in on another woman, this one a dancer, Rogue said, "Excuse me. Are you Luana?"
"Baby, I'm whoever you want me to be," the dancer replied. "Call me whatever you like."
"Don't play games with me," Rogue said softly. "Everyone in here knows what I can do, so don't fuck around."
"Fuck around, baby? Guess you really do know Logan. He's got the same bad manners as you."
"I just need to know where he went."
"'Just,' she says," Luana replied as Nona returned to the table, "as though we ever know what that bastard is up to."
Keeping her hands flat on the table, Rogue rose and leaned toward the two women.
"Logan's not gonna be happy you didn't help me," she said, and then walked out, sighing because she was no further along than she had been when she went into the place.
Interlude: Clyde to Athabasca
She stood leaning against the motorcycle she'd ridden all the way from Westchester to this godforsaken part of Canada. The sky was iron-gray, and it looked like it was about to snow. Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed that, but having worn out her welcome in Clyde, she had a long night's ride ahead of her to the next town. Vaulting onto the bike, she tore out of town. "When I get my hands on you, Logan, it ain't gonna be pretty," she muttered. Xavier wasn't too happy with him, either. "You better have a good reason for doing this," she shouted over the roar of the bike.
Zoning out as she drove through the night, Rogue once again wondered why Logan had left without saying goodbye. A freakin' note, she thought, is that too much to ask? Apparently, it was. Because he hadn't left one before leaving, nor had he written or called since he'd been gone. Chalking it up to his usual lack of regard for other people's feelings, no one else at the mansion had been alarmed.
"Dammit," she muttered, her attention caught by the fact that the gas gauge was nearing empty. Everything had gone wrong since she'd left Edmonton.
Finally, she reached Athabasca. Grabbing her knapsack, she trudged wearily into the lobby of the Hearthside Motor Inn. "Have you seen this man?" she asked the night clerk, laying the picture down on the reception desk. "I need to find him," she said as she smoothed the creases worn into the paper from folding and unfolding it as often as she had. Jean had drawn it for her once they realized they had no pictures of him; once they realized they weren't going to be able to convince her not to go after him.
"Kirsten, you remember this guy?" the clerk called out to someone in the back.
"Logan something-or-other," Kirsten said when she saw the picture. "Man, he was something else in bed. Never tired out. Only stayed a couple of nights, but damn, did we have fun." Perhaps the look on Rogue's face warned her, or the clenching of her fists, but Kirsten shut up all of a sudden.
Quietly, with as much dignity as she could muster in the face of yet another of Logan's conquests on this trip, she said, "Thanks." Right then, all she wanted was a hot shower and a bed.
She showered and pulled on her pajamas and lay in bed, thinking.
Over and over, she wondered why he'd left. She'd been so excited that he'd come home early -- surprising all of them, and yet, by the time she'd gone out to the foyer to greet him, he was back on his bike and tearing down the driveway.
Jean was the only one who'd seen him. It hurt Rogue to think it, but she wondered if the fact that Jean and Scott had finally set a wedding date was what drove him away.
Interview #2
Rogue didn't bother with Kirsten when she went scoping for information the next day. She was sure the woman had nothing useful to tell her.
The town had two strip clubs and one fight bar. Usually those were the best places to get information about where Logan was headed. Very cautiously, hoping her reputation hadn't preceded her, Rogue chose to start with the fight bar. When she walked in the door, all eyes turned her way.
"You sure you're in the right place?" the bartender asked as she sat down at the bar and removed the leather coat she wore.
"Zeke around?" she said, not answering the question.
"Depends. Who's asking?"
"I'm a friend of the Wolverine," she replied. "I'm trying to find him."
The bartender laughed. "Honey, every woman is a friend of Wolverine's. What makes you think you're any different?" Wordlessly, Rogue pulled out the dog tags she still wore snug against her bosom. His manner changed immediately. "I'm Zeke."
"I'll have a bourbon, neat," she said. "He was here recently?"
Zeke poured the amber liquid into a glass and nodded. "Couple of weeks ago. Looked like hell. Even more pissed off than usual. No one lasted more than thirty seconds against him."
Rogue knocked back the shot and enjoyed the warmth spreading in her chest. "He say where he was headed?"
Zeke shrugged. "He don't talk much. He works the circuit usually, so Chisholm would be next."
"Chisholm?"
"North and west of here. Two bars in town hold fights. The Wily Moose and Red's."
"The Wily Moose?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Zeke chuckled. "Dan Moore, the owner -- he's got a weird sense of humor. Best line up of fighters this side of Regina, though."
She laid some money down on the bar and said, "Thanks, Zeke. I really appreciate your help."
"Well, put in a good word for me, will ya? I don't wanna get skinned because I gave up information I wasn't supposed to."
Rogue pulled her coat back on, getting ready to leave. "Don't worry, sugar. He'll be real happy to see me," she said with more confidence than she felt. He hadn't even stopped to say hello, let alone goodbye.
She and Jubilee had been sitting on the couch discussing the wedding.
// "I can't believe I'm walking down the aisle with Remy. It's so surreal," Rogue said.
"You got lucky," Jubilee said wryly, slightly envious that her boyfriend was ushering Rogue instead of herself at the wedding.
"Maybe," Rogue said with a toss of her head. "He's gonna look fab in the tux, though."
"And you in that gown -- I think I'm jealous. I've never seen anyone look like they stepped out of a fairy tale until I saw you in that gown, Roguey. I don't know how you do it."
It was then they'd heard Jean's voice. "But you just got here. Aren't you going to stay for the wedding? I know Rogue would love to have you here."
"You couldn't pay me to stay, Jeannie. Tell Scooter I'm taking his bike."
And he was gone before she was even able to get off the couch. //
Her cell phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. "What is it now, Bobby?"
"How'd you know it was me?"
"You're the only one who calls me, sugar. What's up?" She leaned against the side of the building, trying to shield herself from the wind.
"You made the news in Edmonton, Rogue. The Prof is worried."
"Well, what was I supposed to do? Those guys attacked me. I was just minding my own business and --"
"You were poking your nose into Logan's business, Rogue. How do you know they weren't looking for him, too? What if you hadn't been able to get away? What if they used you to get to him?"
"They couldn't use me, Bobby, because I don't know where he is. Anyway, I got away. And put three of 'em in the hospital." She said it with a hint of pride. Six years of training had paid off. She was the best brawler of the younger X-Men, thanks to Logan.
Bobby sighed. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't take the Blackbird and come and get you right now?"
"Because you're a lousy pilot, sugar. You'd never survive the trip."
"Rogue!"
"Okay. You're still better than Jubes." Her tone hardened as she said, "I'm not coming home until I find him, Bobby. I'm serious."
He sighed again, this time in resignation. They had the same conversation almost daily, it seemed. "Call if you need me."
"I will. Take care of Kitty and the baby, all right?"
"Be careful."
"Always."
She folded the phone and put it back in her pocket. Bobby was a dear, but such a worrier. He couldn't understand that she had to know why Logan had run, and why he hadn't bothered to stay in touch.
Interview #3
Rogue went back to the motel and packed up her stuff. She wanted to get on the road; the trip to Chisholm wasn't short.
She arrived early the next morning. Getting a room was easy, so she decided to do a recon of the town. She found the two fight bars easily enough -- they were on the same street, across from the motel. Along with two strip clubs.
She sighed. Why did Logan always have to pick the bad side of town?
After a nap, a meal and a shower, she headed out for the evening. Since the fights wouldn't start until late, she figured she'd make the rounds of the strip clubs. First, she repacked her duffel bag and stowed it in the bike. You never knew when you might have to leave town in a hurry. Edmonton had taught her that.
Billy's Topless was useless. Logan hadn't spent any time there at all, Rogue discovered, much to her surprise. The other strip joint, Miss Kitty's, seemed a little upscale for his taste.
She walked in and made a beeline for the bar. She was the only fully-clothed woman in the joint. A number of heads turned and she realized she stood out.
Ordering her usual shot of bourbon -- Logan's presence in her head was strongest whenever she found herself in places he'd been -- she eyeballed the place warily.
Two young blonde women danced on stage to the strains of "Freebird." Rogue wondered how she could be thousands of miles from Mississippi and yet still wind up in a redneck strip joint. Pulling out the sketch, she waved the bartender over. "You seen him?" she asked, raising her voice to make herself heard over the Lynyrd Skynyrd blaring from the speakers.
The barkeep snorted. "Hell, yeah. Practically put me outta business. He can't be human. The man never loses a fight."
She arched an eyebrow. She loved doing that -- it was such a useful trick. "You bet against the Wolverine?" she asked incredulously. The bartender looked sheepish and shrugged. "He say where he was headed when he left town?"
"I didn't talk to him," the man replied. "Kathryn might know. Or Margie. I'll get them for you."
He moved down the bar and Rogue thought, Jesus, Logan. Can't you keep it in your pants? She didn't think she could deal with meeting more bimbos who just couldn't wait to tell her what a great lay he was. When she saw him again, she was going to let him know how much she didn't care for his coping methods.
A tall redhead with green eyes and almost translucent skin walked over to Rogue, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm Kathryn. Larry says you're looking for the Wolverine?" Her voice was hard, wary.
Rogue wasn't going to back off, though she was flustered at the woman's resemblance to Jean. "Yeah. I -- he--"
"He doesn't like to be followed, and if he doesn't want to be found, you won't ever find him," Kathryn continued. "Why don't you go back home to Daddy, missy? You had your fun, but a man like that is never going to tie himself down to a girl like you."
"Kathryn." Another woman spoke. She was nothing like anyone Rogue expected to see in a strip joint. Tall, older -- in her late sixties, Rogue guessed -- with iron-gray hair and black eyes, she moved with the grace and speed of someone decades younger.
"I'm Margie. How can we help you?"
"I need to find him. It's important," Rogue said coolly, giving away nothing.
"And how do we know you mean him no harm?" Margie asked, her tone matching Rogue's. Kathryn snorted, as if the idea of Rogue being able to damage the man they called Wolverine was unbelievable. Which it was, Rogue guessed, to anyone who didn't know her power. The redhead walked away, shaking her head.
Rogue pulled out the dog tags again, since it had worked on Zeke. Margie looked startled. "I need to return these."
"You're Marie?" The old woman was shrewd.
Rogue blinked. "I, yeah. How --"
"He talks about you a lot." Margie's gaze dropped to Rogue's gloved hands. Rogue self-consciously slid them into her pockets, hiding from the woman's penetrating gaze. "He left a week ago. He's got a cabin up at Rainbow Lake. I'm pretty sure that's where he was heading."
"A cabin? Can you give me directions?"
"It's a long ride, hon, and pretty far north. Are you sure about this?" Margie asked compassionately.
"I need to know why he left. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't even say hello." Her voice came close to breaking and she was angry about that. Margie was one of the few people on her journey who'd been nice to her, and it was amazing how a little sympathy made her want to bawl. But she wasn't going to cry over him anymore. She'd decided, on the ride from Athabasca to Chisholm, that she was going to ask him why, return his tags, and get on with her life. She could only wait for so long for him to wake up and realize they belonged together. If he couldn't see it or didn't feel it, she'd call Bobby and head straight back to Westchester to begin the next phase of her life.
Margie wrote down some directions and said, "I'll be right back." She disappeared into the darkness, and Rogue was glad. She needed a moment to collect herself.
The strain of traveling was beginning to get to her. She'd been on the road for six weeks, and had cut Logan's lead down from four months to a week. Four long months she'd waited to hear from him. And she was only going to be able to stay on the road a month longer, because she'd promised to be home for Thanksgiving, and it didn’t look like she was going to be successful. She just hoped the weather would cooperate. She didn't feature getting stuck in Northern Canada until the spring thaw.
Rogue was lost in her own thoughts and didn't notice the man who sidled up to her. She'd forgotten her surroundings, something she tried never to do.
"Hey, sweet thing, can I buy you a drink?"
She shook her head and looked at the man talking to her. About her height, brown eyes, brown hair, not bad looking. "No, thanks," she said with a half-hearted smile. "I'm waiting for Margie, and then I'm on my way out."
"You gonna be working here?" he asked, running his eyes up and down her body lasciviously. She could smell the whiskey on his breath.
She hated when men did that. It made her feel itchy, like they could see through her clothes or something. "No. Just passing through."
"You think you're too good for me?"
"No. I'm just passing through."
"You Americans all think you own the world. Well, you're in Canada now and you can't be all high and mighty with me," he shouted. The crowd was starting to notice them.
"I'm not trying to be high and mighty," Rogue said, keeping a tight rein on her nervousness and her temper. "I'm just on my way out the door."
He reached for her and suddenly found his arm twisted behind his back and his face banged hard into the bar.
Margie came out, nose buried in an atlas. "You want to take Route 2 north and -- Ned, leave the lady alone. She's a friend of Wolverine's."
Ned sputtered and squirmed in Rogue's grip. "Leave her alone? I’m the one who just got a face full of wood."
Rogue let him up and smiled with false sweetness. "Sorry." He walked away, muttering under his breath. She didn't notice the interested look from another face in the crowd.
Margie handed her the directions and smiled. "Ned's a little pushy at times, but he's harmless. Are you leaving tonight?"
"No. I'm tired of driving at night," Rogue replied. "I'm going to check out the Wily Moose. Zeke at The Barn told me the fights are good."
Margie smiled. "You be careful, Marie. I've known Logan a long time, and I've never seen him as upset as he was when he came through here. I'm sure you two can work out whatever it is that's causing the trouble. And let me know if you need anything else." She pulled the startled girl into her arms for a quick hug and Marie had to duck quickly to avoid touching her face to Margie's bare skin.
"Thanks," she said, touched. "Thanks a lot. Take care, Margie."
She tucked the directions in her pocket and thumbed through the atlas Margie had given her, never noticing the man who followed her out into the night.
Interlude: The Wily Moose
Rogue walked into the bar, congratulating herself on finding someone who was actually friendly to Logan. She didn't think many people were. Too many people wanted too many things from him, and he'd been hardened not only by being used, but by the things people had used him for. Unlike the X-geeks, as he affectionately called them -- not that he ever let them know he cared -- who seemed content to let him come and go in peace, asking little and in return giving him a home.
"Very nice," someone called out as she sat down at the bar.
"Wild Turkey," she said, ignoring the whistles and catcalls her entrance had set off and turning her attention to the cage.
"Xerxes is fighting tonight," the bartender said, putting a glass of bourbon in front of her. "You looking to bet?"
Amused that someone actually called himself "Xerxes," Rogue shook her head. "Betting closes in five minutes," he said. "Call me if you change your mind."
Downing the bourbon, Rogue waited for the fight to begin.
Everything got quiet when the emcee stepped into the cage. "Friends, tonight we've got a good one for you. George Crenshaw -- yes, ladies and gentlemen, our very own George Crenshaw -- is going to be fighting Xerxes the Dominator, who's joining us all the way from Mexico." He was short, but heavily muscled, and he taunted the crowd in Spanish.
"I think I know you." Jumping at the voice in her ear, Rogue spun quickly. "Kevin," the man said, calling over someone else, "haven't we seen her somewhere before?"
"Like the news?" a new voice chimed in.
"Maybe, Rick," the second man said.
"No, I don't think so," Rogue replied, hiding her nervousness.
"Oh," the new voice said, "she's the one from the riot in Edmonton. Put three guys in the hospital."
Quietly, hoping to keep things under control, Rogue said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Please leave me alone. I'd just like to watch the fights."
Kevin didn't look convinced. "Little lady, why don't you come with me down to the police station? I'm sure they'd be happy to see you. I bet there's even a reward." He grabbed her arm and she slammed him into the bar, much as she'd done to Ned at Miss Kitty's.
"Leave me the fuck alone," she growled.
"Look, freak, this is our bar, and our town, and we don't like your kind here," the third voice said, and Rogue finally got a look at her real tormentor. Big, burly, with blonde hair and a mustache, his eyes flashed yellow and she gasped.
"Mystique."
It was all she had time to say as Kevin took advantage of her inattention to punch her in the stomach. She doubled over, more to give herself time to think than in pain. Staying down in a crouch, she swept a leg out, bringing Rick down easily. She leaned over the bar to grab a bottle she could break and use as a weapon.
The crowd turned from the fight in the cage to the one at the bar.
All hell broke loose then, as people took the opportunity to take old grudges out on each other.
Rogue looked frantically for Mystique, but she could be anyone, and she had her hands full at the moment, fending off Kevin and Rick and trying not to get hit in the face -- the only part of her skin that was exposed.
Finally, sirens could be heard in the distance, and Rogue was able to slip out before anyone noticed she had gone.
Thanking her lucky stars she was already packed, and mourning the loss of her second night's rental at the motel, she took off on her bike.
Interlude: Slave Lake
She rode through the night, hoping Mystique wasn't on her trail and praying that Sabretooth wasn't with her.
Shit, shit, shit. I really stepped in it this time. I knew I should have dyed my hair after Edmonton.
She called Bobby when she arrived at Slave Lake. "What happened to the guys from Edmonton?" she asked without preamble.
"Two were released from the hospital after getting bandaged up, but one's still in pretty bad shape. You broke some ribs and one of 'em punctured a lung. He also had damage to his kidneys. You really worked him over, babe." Bobby paused, then, "You wanna come home? Storm and I will come get you. Just say the word."
"I don't think so, sugar. I'm close, so close, Bobby. I just know it. I met a friend of his, a woman --" Bobby snorted, but Rogue ignored him, "Margie. She was really nice to me. Not one of his girlfriends, but an older lady, like the Professor." She took a deep breath. "If I don't find him by the Monday of Thanksgiving week, I'll come home, I swear. You can come get me and say, 'I told you so,' the whole ride.
"But I, I just need to see this through, Bobby. I need to know why he left, and why he's fucking his way across the Great White North. And why--" her voice broke, "why he can't see how I feel." She mentioned nothing about Mystique. She knew if she did, Bobby, and the rest of the team, would be there before she could turn around twice. And she didn't want that.
Bobby sighed. He'd been through this with her for the past six years. Even during the short time they'd dated, she'd spent more time trying to attract Logan than she had him. "I know, Rogue. He's an asshole who doesn't deserve you. I'll freeze his nuts off if he hurts you, and Johnny will set him on fire."
That made her laugh and she was able to end the phone call on a good note.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was her main vanity. It was long -- to the middle of her back -- and glossy, and the two white stripes made it distinctive. It had to go. She'd stopped at Apple Drugs and picked up what she needed.
Unceremoniously, she chopped at it with the scissors she'd bought, afraid to go get it cut professionally because of her skin. It wasn't easy or neat, but soon, the wastebasket in the bathroom of her motel room was filled with her hair and a new, sleeker Rogue stared back. She'd cut it so it curled just under her chin. God, she felt naked without the curtain of hair to hide behind.
Next, she pulled out the box of hair coloring. It was "Midnight" according to the box. She just hoped it would cover the white adequately. After pacing for thirty minutes with the stinky chemical gloop on her head, she hopped in the shower and washed it all out.
Then, it was back to the mirror. Oh God, she thought, I look like Wednesday Addams. Her natural pallor faded to a deathly luminescence, made even paler by the ivory concealer she smoothed over her cheeks, and the dark purple lipstick she applied.
"Goth-Rogue," she said out loud, giggling. "Remy would say I looked like something out of an Anne Rice novel."
As disguises go, it wasn't much, but she hoped it would be enough.
Interview #4
Rogue arrived in Faust three days later. She hadn't planned on staying in Slave Lake so long, but there'd been a bad ice storm, and she couldn't ride the bike in that kind of weather. She was cursing her decision to sacrifice speed for caution as she sat in the motel and waited for Mother Nature to cooperate. It wasn't the first time she'd ever wished for Storm's power. She hoped Logan was stuck wherever he was, too, and that it was close by.
Following her usual routine, she scoped out the town and targeted the likely Logan hot spots -- a bar called the Pig and Whistle looked promising, though it didn't host cage fighting.
That night she slapped the picture down on the bar and got no response from the barkeeper. He said maybe Tex, the guy who worked weekends, would know, and was she going to stick around?
She had a couple of drinks and then headed over to the other likely bar in town, Roger's. Again, her questions turned up nothing. She didn't even know why she'd come here; Margie had given her directions and told her where to go. But on the road she'd worried. What if Margie had been Mystique? She'd known Logan for six years, had him in her head, and she knew nothing about a cabin.
So, she decided to continue on as if she hadn't gotten the information about the cabin. Roger's had a cage and where there was a cage, there was sure to be word of the Wolverine, sooner or later.
The next night was a Friday, so she went back around eight to the Pig and Whistle to see Tex.
"He's not on until eleven," the bartender told her, so she settled in with a cheeseburger and a beer.
An hour later, a group of young guys came in and started pumping money into the jukebox. Two hours later, Rogue had joined them for shots of Wild Turkey at the bar, her mission forgotten as she had let loose and had fun for the first time since she'd left New York.
"Where you been?" one of them asked, and she detailed her travels.
"New York, Niagara, Halifax, Ottawa, Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Edmonton. I've seen more of this damned country than any of you boys," she said, "and I ain't done yet."
The sound of Stevie Ray Vaughan singing "Look At Little Sister" blared from the speakers, and Rogue shouted, "I love this song!"
"Up on the bar, baby," one of the guys said, taking the opportunity to grab her ass as he helped boost her up.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey mama look at little sis
Out in the backyard, playin' like this
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
Hey hey hey hey, look at little sister
Rogue was on the bar, shaking her groove thang. She never noticed the man who walked in the door.
He paused, head cocked as if he were testing the air for a scent. Then he shook his head and made his way to the bar.
What about the neighbors, what they gonna say
Stop little sister, gettin' carried away
Hey hey hey, look at little sister
Hey hey hey hey, look at little sister
Rogue shimmied and tossed her hair around, still not used to the lack of length.
The man was speaking quietly with the bartender.
"That's her," the bartender said, jerking his head in Rogue's direction. "She's been asking for you all over town. All over the country, from what Margie told me."
Shakin' like a tree, rollin' like a log
Shakin' and a rollin' now, that ain't all
Hey hey hey, look at little sister
Hey hey hey hey, look at little sister
She was rolling her hips and doing a passable imitation of the strippers she'd seen in the numerous places she'd visited on her trek when, all of a sudden, strong hands grabbed her and pulled her down off the bar.
The guys she was with took one look at Logan's angry face and turned back to their beers. Everyone in the place knew who he was and what he could do to someone who crossed him, even if they didn't know about the claws.
Rogue struggled for a moment or two, then realized who had hold of her. She relaxed and started giggling at the irony of being pulled down off the bar and slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
As he walked, he said, "Halloween's over, kid. What the hell did you do to your hair? It smells terrible."
"Logan, where we goin'?" she asked as they entered the back room of the bar. The men at the pool table cleared out quickly at Logan's growl.
He put her down on her feet. His voice was harsh when he asked, "What the fuck is goin' on, Marie?"
"I, I--" Now that she was finally face to face with him, she had no idea what to do or say. The amount of alcohol in her system wasn't helping. She flung herself at him and gave him a fierce hug. "I missed you so much," she said, squeezing him tightly and rubbing her face against his chest. She couldn't see it, but his expression softened and something akin to wistfulness overtook his features for a moment. "Why'd you leave like that? And why didn't you call? I've been so worried." She let go, took a step back, and began pacing.
"You've been worried about me?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I woulda thought you'd have more important stuff to worry about, what with the wedding and all."
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Yeah, there was a lot of stuff goin' on, but--"
She never got a chance to finish the sentence.
Logan's head snapped up, nostrils flared. "Sabretooth," he growled.
The big blond mutant launched himself into the room, knocking both Rogue and Logan over.
Logan recovered first and, claws extended, he closed with the other man.
Rogue grabbed a pool cue and looked for an opportunity to whack Sabretooth.
"Marie, get out of here," Logan yelled, his eyes never leaving his opponent. He slashed and Sabretooth parried and the two were locked in a deadly dance. Rogue froze, uncertain of what to do and not wanting to distract Logan.
She felt rather than saw Mystique and, turning with all the skill she'd been taught, she hit the blue woman with the pool cue, breaking it across her collarbone. Mystique grabbed what was left of the stick and shoved it back at Rogue, hard. She let go and tumbled backwards as she'd been taught, coming to her feet quickly and following up immediately with a punch to Mystique's stomach and the sweeping kick she liked to use. Mystique didn't go down. She spun and launched a roundhouse kick of her own, catching Rogue in the shoulder. She stumbled, but kept her balance, grabbing Mystique's foot and shoving hard.
Sabretooth picked Logan up and body-slammed him into the pool table. Logan flung the eight ball at Sabretooth, hitting him right between the eyes. The nine and the three balls followed, as Logan rolled and returned to his feet.
Sabretooth roared and charged. Logan crouched low, jabbed his claws into the other man's stomach and jerked up, ripping three long gashes in his trunk. Sabretooth went down, and Logan stabbed him again for good measure.
Mystique, seeing that Logan was going to be coming for her next, whirled and ran, morphing into an ordinary man as she went.
Trevor, the owner of the bar and the man with whom Logan had huddled earlier, stood in the doorway with a shotgun. "I'll clean up," he said, priming the weapon and getting ready to put another hole in Sabretooth.
Logan grinned ferally. "Thanks, Trev. I owe ya one." He grabbed Rogue's arm. "C'mon kid. Let's blow this joint." He dragged her out, barely stopping to pick up her coat from the college boys with whom she'd been drinking. No one looked twice at them as the headed out into the night.
Interview #5
They got back to her motel room before the police arrived at the bar. They stood and stared at each other in silence. Every time Rogue opened her mouth to say something, Logan would shush her. I feel like Scott Evil, she thought. She was also sobering up quickly from the bourbon and the fight. She knew Logan, and what came next on the agenda. She only hoped he wouldn't leave her in search of it. She didn't think she could take him leaving her to work off his adrenaline high with some other woman.
"What the hell are you doin' here?" he asked finally.
"I told you," she replied. "I missed you. The way you left -- you didn't even stop to see me. I know, I know you were upset, but the least you could do--"
She broke off as he grabbed her left hand. "Where's the ring?"
"What?"
"The ring. And shouldn't you be on your honeymoon? I can't believe Gumbo is lettin' you chase me all over Canada. What the hell kinda marriage do you have?"
"Back the fuck up." She was sober now, and couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You think that Remy and I--" she stopped again, and things fell into place. Jeez, she thought, if Jubes was two inches taller, or Scott just a little less anal, this never would have happened. "But still, why would you-- I don't understand," she said, sinking down onto the bed.
"You deserve better than him, Marie." He sat next to her and stroked her hair. "You deserve better than that thief. You know he always had one hand up Jubilee's skirt while he was sweet-talkin' you. What kinda husband lets his wife go off chasin' another man right after the wedding? I'm sorry, Marie, but I just couldn't stick around and watch you throw yourself away on that punk."
She shook her head. "Logan, listen to me. Read my lips." She placed her hands on his cheeks and turned him to face her. "Remy and I are not married. Scott and Jean got married. Remy was my partner in the wedding. He and Jubilee are shacking up."
He blinked. He cocked his head. "Really?"
"And for true," she said, a smile lighting up her face. Another thought crossed her mind and wiped away the smile. "But I don't get it. Why were you sleeping your way west with women who looked like Jean?" She blushed as she said it. "I mean, it's none of my business, of course. I know how you feel about her. I just, I don't get it."
She got up and turned away from him. Her hand went unconsciously to the dogtags around her neck. Now that the moment of truth had arrived, she didn't think she could do it. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the chain over her head and turned back to him. "I think you should take these back, Logan. I can't be your little girl anymore. I need to get on with my life. If you can't -- if you don't feel like I feel -- I can't wait around. I've wasted the last six years of my life chasing you -- literally, for the past few weeks -- and I can't do it anymore." She held the tags out to him, blinking rapidly to forestall the tears beginning to form in her eyes.
"You want me?" he said hoarsely, stunned.
"More than anything," she whispered. "I thought you knew and were just being, you know, nice about not wanting me back."
He shook his head. "I, you were with Bobby when I came back, and then that guy from Boston. I just never thought. Oh fuck, I've had my head up my ass for six years? Shit." He pulled her into his arms, pressing kisses to her hair. "Marie, I'm so sorry. I've wanted you -- loved you -- for years. But you were too young and then you always had boyfriends. And then I thought you were gettin' married… Shit."
He traced her lips with gloved fingers, and then floated her scarf across them. "I'm going to kiss you now," he whispered.
"Please," she said.
The warm wet silk tasted of her, he thought, and it was good enough to make him wonder if he'd be able to stop. She wouldn't let him, moaning low in her throat and running her fingers through his hair.
He walked her to the bed and laid her down gently. She quickly stripped him of his clothes, hands roaming, eager to touch every part of his perfectly sculpted body. He growled as she pressed kisses to his chest through the scarf and again when she feathered it over his erection and took him into her mouth. His hips jerked instinctively and he fought against it, wanting to be inside her the first time. "Marie, please," he whimpered.
She lifted her head and grinned. "Like that, do you?"
"Get over here," he rumbled, dragging her up, enjoying the friction the motion created. He unzipped her jeans and murmured, "Thank God for pantyhose."
"Tights, Logan. These are tights."
"Whatever," he replied, far too interested in exploring the damp triangle between her legs. He inhaled the scent of her arousal and wondered how he got to be so lucky. He unsheathed about an inch of adamantium and slit the tights -- and her underwear, too -- from front to back. He stoked her and she squirmed.
"Logan," she breathed. He loved the way she said his name. He felt around on the floor for his pants -- luckily, he still had condoms in his wallet -- and then they were good to go. He sat up, his mouth finding her breasts as she straddled him. She rocked back and forth, getting used to the feel of him. "It's been a while," she whispered.
He didn't ask who and she didn't tell him. None of that was important now anyway. They were finally together.
She began moving faster and his hands on her hips controlled their rhythm. She arched her back and he slid his fingers in between their bodies to press her clit. He kept his eyes open, drinking in the sight of her above him, and he could see the tension building as he drove her towards climax. "Oh, God, Logan," she moaned, her voice getting louder as she came.
"That's it, baby," he said hoarsely. "You got it. That's it. You're so beautiful, Marie." He felt her muscles clench around him and he thrust deeper, shuddering as he spilled into her, shouting her name.
They spent the rest of the night similarly occupied, and would have spent most of the morning that way too, except her cell phone rang.
"Not now, Bobby," she said as Logan was slipping the scarf between her legs. "Everything's fine. Yeah, he's here. And we'll be home for the holidays."
End
Look At Little Sister
by H. Ballard
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey mama look at little sis
Out in the backyard, playin' like this
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
Hey, hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
What about the neighbors, what they gonna say
Stop little sister, gettin' carried away
Hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
Hey, hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
Shakin' like a tree, rollin' like a log
Shakin' and a rollin' now, that ain't all
Hey hey hey, look at little sister
Hey, hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
Shakin' like a tree, rollin' like a log
Shakin' and a rollin' now, that ain't all
Hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
Hey, hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
What about the neighbors, what they gonna say
Stop little sister, gettin' carried away
Hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
Hey, hey, hey, hey, look at little sister
~*~
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Meg, Jen, Dot and Pete. This started out as an ABC fic, but I couldn't manage to tell a whole story in 26 sentences. So it's sometimes ABC, sometimes not. I was inspired by any number of excellent fics I've recently read, most especially Sare's "Little Sister" and Terri's "Eighteen" series.
Text in italics indicate thoughts.
// // indicates flashbacks.