Idly twisting the tail end of her scarf in her fingers, Rogue stared out over the ocean, her gaze distant, as though she wasn’t seeing the waves of blue topped with white, or the pale feathers of sea gulls that flew overhead. Indeed she was lost in thoughts of another time, another place.
She didn’t know if she could do it, if she could be what was expected of her from the mansion residents. But she knew beyond a doubt that she could be enough for Logan, that she would be enough. Indeed, Logan was the other part of her soul and regardless of what was said or done in the past, she had faith in him.
Glancing down at her fingers, Rogue sighed. She was lonely beyond all reasoning, a deep yearning to call Logan haunting her dreams and filling her head during the day. She knew her call would be welcomed, knew he’d talk to her, help her, but she needed to do this on her own.
Rogue was the one who had to choose who she was going to be. Would she be the superhero that an X-Man ultimately had to be or would she just be plain old Marie, the girl with the toxic skin who loved a wild cage brawler?
Smiling softly, Rogue shrugged. It was merely a matter of deciding which she would be. She knew she could be both, that Logan would support her – albeit with a lot of protesting if she decided that the team was important enough for her to join, but could she handle risking her life, knowing that Logan was so willing to die to save her?
She didn’t think she could do that. The thought of him hurting was a big reason she worried about him when he went on missions. Yet part of her wanted to be on the team, wanted to contribute in return for all the things that Professor Xavier had done for her.
Growling softly Rogue shifted, pushing away from the railing and pacing. Okay so her heart wanted two things, things she knew she could have, would have, if she ever decided. The problem was could she handle losing one to the other if she made that choice?
“Of course I couldn’t,” she muttered angrily. “I mean if I lost Logan to a mission it would kill me. But waiting for him to come home, not knowing what’s happening, not being able to help him would tear me apart slowly, painfully. In the end I think it would kill us a lot faster than being on the team together.”
“So I guess I could join the team full time, be a part of it as long as I’m careful and I’m not risking too much. If I get hurt, I know he’s gonna touch me, know he’s gonna make me take a hit and it’s not worth hurting him. The only thing is if I refuse him, it’ll kill him, he’ll take it as rejection, and I can’t do that to him. So the problem isn’t do I join the team – instead it’s how much can I honestly take from Logan without feeling like a leech? If I stipulate it’s only life or death. No, he’d touch me even if it was just a broken bone or something like that. But what if…no, I can’t think bad thoughts. Okay, so I make him understand that it can’t be over some minor scratch or a few bruises. It has to be something major – he’ll accept that.”
Pacing back and forth she frowned, lost in her own thoughts. “Okay so no touching unless it’s major, no taking risks that don’t need to be taken, and it’s my choice to join the team or not! I think I can live with that. More importantly, I think Logan can live with that.”
Flopping into a chair she smiled as she glanced out over the railing, at least that problem was taken care of. Now on to the problem of getting into Logan’s bed.
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip she chewed softly, her fingernails tapping out a rapid beat on the glass tabletop, she wondered idly about her skin. Should she make it an issue right off the bat? Should she show him it wasn’t something to be concerned about, some sick, twisted thrill for her? Perhaps if she were to dress up, to demonstrate that she was willing to take that step to protect him.
Hiding a grin she giggled softly, it sounded so ludicrous, so absurd to think about protecting Logan when Logan had done an admirable job of protecting her for so long, had given her the freedom to choose her own path. Knowing Logan, her skin would be the very least of his concerns. He would probably be more inclined to worry about her age, about his impact on her life, about things that he had no control over.
“Poor Logan has no idea that he has no control over a situation he’s not even aware he’s in. I’m a woman, not a child, and I can make up my own mind,” she muttered under her breath.
~Really? Seems to me you’ve got more than one of us up here, darlin’, that can, uh, help you choose.~ the familiar snarl that accompanied the words held more than just anger. There was also humor and affection present.
“Seems to me you’d have changed my mind long ago if that were the case,” she muttered before shaking her head. “And now I’m talking to myself.”
~Hey, I resent that!~ there was laughter in the protest.
Rising, Rogue entered her suite and poured a tall glass of juice. Plunking a straw into it, she returned to the deck and her internal debate. They’d had two whole weeks at sea after leaving port in Greece and she was determined to have this figured out and resolved before they pulled into port in Australia for the four days left before beginning the return voyage to New York.
“Okay, so that takes care of my concerns about the team,” Rogue muttered, crossing it off a mental list. “I think I’ll just give Logan a full body suit to match one of mine and ask him if he’d wear it to be with me. I could probably pick one up in Sydney. That takes care of any hesitation about my skin. I don’t think he’d refuse, unless he’s got another idea. Something he could use around my mutation – a real possibility with Logan. That man is way too prepared…ooh speaking of prepared I should go see Hank or Jean when I get back. If we’re gonna have a serious, mature relationship I should do my part to prevent a pregnancy. Although I do have to wonder about my skin, I mean what if even with it off I still hurt any baby I have? I wouldn’t want to do that, so maybe they can tell me if that’s a cause for concern. If it’s a big one then I’ll just get my tubes tied or something. After I talk to Logan he is, after all, the other half of this equation.”
~Skin ain’t an issue with me. And if we’re lucky enough to be blessed with kids, it’ll be okay,~ the inner Logan drawled, sending waves of desire racing through her body.
“Would you stop that? I’m trying to think here about serious stuff,” Rogue whimpered slightly.
~Ooh, poor Marie, can’t think and want at the same time.~ The teasing drew a low pitched growl from Rogue and was instantly squashed, silence replacing the low purr of his voice.
“Thank you,” Rogue muttered, sipping at her drink. “So that’s on my to-do list when I get home. I should probably have a good look around Sydney and see if I can pick up some really nice full bodysuits in both our sizes, as well as other things we can use in the bedroom. I want to get Logan something really nice as a present too, something that shows I’m not a kid.”
~And bodysuits aren’t it?~
“Logan, if you don’t shut up, I’m gonna let Magnet head out to play with you,” Rogue threatened angrily.
~All I’m sayin’ is you don’t need to go wasting money on the me out there. You could show up in nothing but your skin, and I’d still have you screaming my name out within ten minutes.~
Rolling her eyes, Rogue shifted, “Okay then tell me what to get him that would scream ‘I’m ready for this. I want to be with you.’”
The soft, husky chuckle that filled her mind echoed with a warmth in her body, ~Darlin’, you want us to think you’re all grown up, strut your stuff. Don’t come home swathed in layers of silk and cotton; don’t pretend that your mutation is a prison. It ain’t anymore than ours is. It’s a part of us, and we don’t care about it. Show me, show us that you’re a woman in every sense of the word, and you’ll be fine.~
“Thanks, that’s no help,” Rogue muttered even as she twisted the words around. How could she show Logan she was a woman without driving half the mansion’s residents into a flurry of stupidity? Simple: walk the walk and talk the talk. No more of the all day gossip sessions about some stupid boy in a magazine, no more whining about how much she hated her skin, no more of any of the childishness that had driven her to take this cruise. She was a woman, not a child, and it was high time she showed it. First thing when she got back, she would ask the professor for a job…a real one not just as a member of the team but a job that paid money, that made her earn her way!
Thinking hard, she sighed. There wasn’t too much she was qualified for but she could certainly offer some therapeutic thoughts to help new arrivals. Perhaps the Professor would allow her to help in that department, or maybe she could help with the cleaning and cooking. Mrs. Martin was, after all, getting older, and she had suggested more than once that she would like more help soon.
Okay, so those were two options. She also needed to find a place to live, a place to call her own. She couldn’t continue to room with Jubilee and Kitty if she wanted the world to think of her as a woman, perhaps if the Professor was agreeable she could have the corner loft in the right tower? It was spacious, and she could do some painting there as well as playing the piano.
“Alright! I think I’ve got it,” Rogue grabbed a slip of paper and a pen, “Here’s what I’m gonna need to pick up in Sydney. If I have a list then I won’t forget anything, which will be a good thing.”
The scratch of the pen on paper seemed inordinately loud as Rogue scribbled quickly; writing down what she knew she’d need to pick up. Glancing upwards, she sighed. She missed having Mr. M to talk to at times, and right now she wondered how he was doing – in a lot of ways he reminded her of Logan, the gruff exterior that hid a heart of gold, the way he’d listened to her.
“A poor substitute, though,” she muttered as she shook her head, a soft smile on her face. “But a good friend none the less. Hmm, I wonder if it would be a bit presumptuous to purchase a wedding trousseau?”
Rising to her feet, she slipped into her sandals and headed for the upper deck where she knew Mrs. Monroe was sunning. Ignoring Cherie who glared daggers at her, she trotted up the steps and over to where Mrs. Monroe lay on a lounge chair with a tall, frosty glass of something in one hand. Settling next to the older woman on a nearby chair Rogue smiled, “Mrs. Monroe, I’m not disturbing you, am I? Have you a moment?”
“For you, my dear? I’ve got all the time in the world,” the woman smiled and turned her head to look into the bright eyes of the young woman who meant so much to the recently departed guest.
“I have a question. Would it be presumptuous of me to purchase a wedding trousseau before I’ve been asked to marry someone?”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Monroe sat up and tugged the pale silk of her wrap-around over her legs.
“Well you see, I’ve come to some conclusions during this trip and I’ve been talking to Logan and I think he might be ready to be with me. I know I’m ready to be with him, have been for a very long time. The thing is, with Logan his idea of preplanning is giving an hour’s notice. I want to have things organized so that when he does pop the big question, I’m ready…” Rogue gasped out.
“My dear slow down, catch your breath,” Mrs. Monroe smiled warmly. “There is no harm in being prepared. If you feel that a marriage proposal is going to come, then by all means purchase what you need. Just don’t do it with the expectation that he’s going to do what you want because you’re pressuring him.”
“Oh, no!” Rogue shook her head firmly, “I’ve waited for Logan for years; a couple more won’t hurt anything. It’s just; I think he’s serious now. He’s coming to realize I’m not a little girl with a bad case of ‘hero worship’ like everyone said I was. I mean a guy saves your life not once but three times, risking his own in the process, it can give a girl ideas – but the part of him in my head says it wasn’t because he wanted that from me. He did it because he had to, not because he wanted anything from me.”
Mrs. Monroe sighed and studied the young woman, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes held a happy sparkle, and there was a steely resolve to her frame. In the weeks that she’d been on board the young girl had grown into quite the woman, a woman who knew what she wanted, who she wanted, and it showed in everything about her.
Thinking back to the conversation she’d had with a certain dark, brooding man who’d hovered over Rogue while he’d been onboard. Mrs. Monroe hid a grin, Mr. Mustelidae wasn’t a man who made decisions lightly – he wanted Rogue in all her glory, deadly skin and all, and he’d take her to places no one had ever been to. Beyond the physical aspects, beyond the lethal claws and lethal skin there were two very delicate hearts that yearned to be close, that over time had grown to care less and less about what others thought and more and more about what the other wanted.
There was no doubt in her mind that the pair would make it, that they could survive anything with a love as strong, as healthy, and as determined as theirs. “Answer me one question, Rogue,” Mrs. Monroe spoke softly as she reached over to pat her on the knee, “If tomorrow fate were to intervene and take away your control, if you had to choose between a world where you had to dress in yards of satin and silk to have Logan or a world of touches and physical freedom without him – what would your choice be?”
“The silk and satin,” Rogue replied softly, seriously, her tone firm, unyielding. “Logan is more important to me than touch any day of the week.”
Nodding, Mrs. Monroe chuckled, “Have fun shopping, Rogue.”
Rising, Rogue leaned over to hug the older woman, “Thank you. You’ve been a good friend to me.”
Chuckling, Mrs. Monroe shrugged, “You are very welcome, my dear. You are very welcome.”
Watching the young woman all but race across the deck and head for the stairwell Mrs. Monroe chuckled, glancing up quickly at the appearance of a slight shadow over her, “Eavesdropping now are we?” she muttered reaching up to take the hand that fell on her shoulder.
“No, just watching a woman in love, who is going to be royally pissed when she finds out that she’s been played,” Mr. Monroe declared, sinking into the chair Rogue had vacated.
“She’ll be pissed for a while, but then she’ll get over it, I think,” she drawled as she turned to stare at her husband, “After all, we both know that those in New York wouldn’t have let them be together any other way.”
“Only you would give a man a house and some acreage as a wedding present despite the fact that he hasn’t asked her to marry him yet.”
Laughing softly, she shrugged, “I owed him.”
Glancing at his wife, he shrugged and pulled her closer to his body, “We both do.”
Shivering at the reminder of the group of young men who’d been beating on her husband, who’d been willing to kill to get a few dollars, she clung tighter, thankful that at that moment they’d been given a guardian angel in the form of a rough, crass, hardened mutant named Logan aka Wolverine. “Seems a small price to pay for your life, my dear,” she whispered as she glanced at him. “A house, a trip on a boat for two young people? Not hardly enough!”
“Not hardly,” he agreed kissing her hand gently, a slight scar on his own a silent reminder of a debt that they could never really repay!
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000