Warm Hands, Cold Heart

Chapter One


As a damp October came to a fitting end, it was a blustery day outside. The fierce winds were toiling with a wave of crisp autumn leaves, golden, rain-kissed and plentiful as they were finely tuned into frostbitten weapons by Ice Man's class. The month had been pitted with highs and lows, fights and friendships, feasts and a fire in the kitchen, but one of the X-Men's star recruits had fallen foul to a shoddy stain on the patchwork quilt of life. Rogue had been bitten by the enemy within and her heart couldn't contain the poison.

Rogue's room, half decorated in soothing green paint, had been a lonely place to be before her life had imploded with the break of her bed. It had all started last year, when she had fallen headfirst and clammy-faced into a dangerous fling with an animal, a wall of feral muscle and clenched teeth. Love hadn't been spiked through their tongues, but their bodies had gotten to know each other many times over, and then, as quick as it had started, the animal had broken free from its chain and she was left broken, alone and licking her wounds. Yet, her loneliness had been plugged eventually by a special appearance: the marriage of Mississippi egg and Canadian spiced sperm. And, here he was, the beam of powerful light in her hour of need. He was her scowling little star, her spot of chubby sunshine on a cloudy day, and as he babbled, she rubbed her nose against his in an Eskimo kiss. He was pretty as a picture and cute to boot. His eyes were like molten chocolate chips, and he was almost good enough to eat. He was the cherry on her pride sundae and she was proud to call his wriggling little limbs the greatest chink in her beaten, southern-style armour because she was his, and he had saved her from the heartbreak that had been consuming her battled soul.

"Mama loves ya," Rogue whispered sweetly, as he smiled at her, his chunky feet kicking in the air. "Ya look so pretty when ya do that, darlin'. Are ya goin' to knock ya daddy's genes into a pool of gators an' smile for meh again? Ah think ya should, an' do ya know why?" Her finger gently tapped his button nose as her light emerald eyes glistened. "Ya make meh forget how much Ah miss a certain somebody, but don't tell anybody Ah said that, okay?"

The baby's eyes danced with laughter and he smiled widely, making Rogue wonder if he was always going to be this happy-go-lucky. She found herself praying he'd find a steady future out there when he was ready to leave her side, though it made her miserable to think she would be left all alone once he had found his way. With a sigh, she tried to secure the last of his clothes in place and struggled to pull the baby's chalk-blue jeans up to his hips. The older her son became, the more energy he seemed to store in that little body of his, and he only released it when she wanted to dress him, bath him, or take him to Miss Grey for a check-up.

She glanced down at the twisting tot and she shook her head, finding his inability to stay still amusing. "Let mama pull ya pants up, sugar. It's cold out there an' if we're goin' to the store ya don't want tah be makin' friends with the wind." With a triumphant whoop, she finally snapped them gently into place. "There ya go, all done. Ya easier tah handle than ya daddy ever was, too. Ah want ya to turn out like meh, anyway. Ah'm more polite, better behaved an' Ah don't stink like mean old beer an' yucky cigarettes." She stuck her tongue out and pulled a face. "Good little boys don't smell like that, they smell like ya, instead. Oh yes they do, ya mah good little boy."

A chuckling Charles Xavier was sitting in his wheelchair, watching the scene unfold from the doorway as he glanced inside her bedroom, pleased to see it looked relatively clean, as opposed to her teenage years. "Motherhood suits you well, Rogue," he informed her good-naturedly, a warm look directed toward the young woman.

She gazed over at the bald-headed man with a surprised stare as she picked the baby off the rug and cradled him in her arms. "Ah don't believe ya, Professor," she said, standing to her bare feet with ease. "How long have ya been watchin' meh, huh?"

"Not for long," he replied, gesturing to the carpet in front of him. "Do you have a spare moment to put up with my company? I come bearing biscuits."

Her eyes were drawn to the unopened packet of chocolate chip cookies balanced on his lap and she beamed, almost feeling a sense of happiness. "Anybody with cookies is welcome in here," she answered, perching on the edge of the bed and scooping up a colourful dog with a rattle inside. "He loves the toy, by the way. Thank ya for buyin' it."

"It was my pleasure," the Professor said, a genuine look of intrigue on his face as he wheeled inside Rogue's room, not wishing to allow her to sink into her state of depression for a moment longer. He paused beside her, watching the delighted child grasp the toy and shake it with an excited amount of noise. "He certainly seems to be enamoured with it."

"He is," the girl whispered, dropping a kiss to the baby's downy hair. "He loves it just as much as Ah love those cookies ya tryin' tah bribe meh with." She glanced at the Professor with a note of seriousness on her pale features. "An' ya know Ah love them, so what did ya want tah talk tah meh about?"

He began to open the packet with a smile, even though a sigh graced his wise lips. "You're a very smart young lady, Rogue. Many people twice your age would take a cookie without questioning my motives first."

The southerner shrugged, leaning forward and stealing a crumbling cookie before he even had a chance to fully open the pack. "Ah have mah smart moments, Professor. They come an' go every couple of years. Now, what did ya want tah talk about?"

Charles cleared his throat, knowing this would be difficult for the heartbroken girl to discuss, but he wanted to usher in a new state of awareness in the single mother's life. "The child's father," he informed her, his mind reaching out to hers. "This doesn't need to be an upsetting and tiring time, you know. And keeping him away will do more harm than good, to both you, and your son."

"Sperm donor," Anna corrected him, munching on her cookie and rolling her eyes. "He was nothin' but a sperm donor, Professor. Ah know ya mean well, but Ah never asked him to run away with fear in his heart, he did that by his lonesome. Ah have more balls than him, too. Ah'm raisin' this baby because he wanted no part of a family life. Anyway, he's damaged goods. Scott told meh so!"

"Yes, well, Scott is unable to step aside his hatred for the Brotherhood," he explained sagely, attempting to bring forth his views in a way she would understand. Setting the cookies down beside the girl, he steeped his fingers together. "Rogue, a man is only as guarded as his past has made him. Perhaps, the time apart has soothed his urge to travel?"

"Travel?! Ya call it travellin'?" she scoffed, helping herself to another cookie. "Ah call it duckin' out on his responsibilities because he's a dirty dog who needs to be snipped, stuffed and fed to a bunch of liquor hungry hicks."

The Professor sighed, deep in thought. "I guess you don't wish to know about the information I've discovered, then?" He saw the hopeful look in her eyes and he reassured her with a pat to her knee. "According to cerebro, he's settled in a small town in Canada, north-west of Edmonton to be precise."

"He's actually settled somewhere?" Rogue said quietly, her words slow and stifled with surprise. She thought back to the last conversation/screaming match they'd had, and she wrinkled her button nose, a rush of anger stampeding through her veins. "Ah'm goin' to drive up there and kick his ass, Professor. Ah swear to God, Ah'm takin' the baby with meh and he can watch meh kick his daddy's ass from Canada to the gates of Hell." Her posture changed, her back suddenly poker straight as she planned her road trip, readying herself to kick feral butt. "In fact, Ah'm pretty sure Ah'm goin' to wring his wrinkly old chicken neck till he's seein' southern stars." She grabbed another cookie, stuffing the entire snack into her mouth with a huff.

Charles remained silent throughout her tirade, although he wasn't easily swayed by her show of fury. He knew her true feelings were hidden under lock and key inside her heart. "As long as you're happy, Rogue," he replied, his attention turning towards the baby playing happily with the toy in her arms. "And what about your son, does he enjoy having a newly registered name?"

She blushed slightly, feeling a little mortified it had taken her three months to pick a name for her baby, but she hadn't wanted to make a mistake that would lead him to be teased for the rest of his life. Swallowing the half-chewed cookie, she nodded. "For some time he thought 'Pudgy Legs' was his name, but Ah'm hopin' to break the habit now," she answered, tickling the boy's tummy. "At least Ah hope Ah can, when Ah call him by his name he doesn't even look at meh, so Ah'll carry on callin' him 'Pudgy Legs', even when he starts school," she giggled, joking her way through her anxiety.

"Ah, I see," the Professor chuckled, in good spirits. "What was the name you chose in the end, Rogue?"

Holding the baby up, his little socked feet brushing against her thighs, she tenderly watched her son's face with a glimmer of satisfaction. "Ah called him, wait for it, because this is a really important moment in his life." She made sure the baby was facing Charles before she continued. "Professor, meet Logan James Creed. Ah love the name James; it was mah granddaddy's name. So, Ah might just call him that and only use his full name when he's in trouble."

Charles reached for the child's delicate hand and he shook it with an air of prominence. "It's very nice to meet you, James," he uttered, bowing his head gracefully. "I do hope you approve of your name. After all, 'Pudgy Legs' might be looked down upon in some circles of society."

Giggling, the happy-go-lucky Anna kissed James' cheek. "Ah think he'll grow to love his name, Professor, Ah really do. As ya say, by the time he reaches thirty, Ah don't think he'll want to teach a class in the Danger Room with the name, Mr. P. Legs."

The Professor couldn't help but smile at the girl's optimism. "So, you believe the child will become an X-Man?" he asked, impressed by her foresight.

"Of course Ah do," she said cheerfully, setting the baby on her knee again. "Mah little man is goin' to be a star pupil, a star fighter and a star X-Man. Ah'm sure he's got a bright future ahead of him. Ah don't mind if he's mutant or human, but he's already special and Ah know the best is yet to come."

He smiled warmly, wondering if it was possible the young lady was correct. James was certainly the son of two powerful, yet stubborn mutants. "Speaking of mutations, Rogue, how is the ring faring?"

Anna's attention dropped to the silver band encasing a circle of pale skin on her ring finger. "It's great, fantastic even, and it's stopped mah skin in its tracks without meh havin' to dress like a mummy for the rest of mah life. Ah don't think Ah ever thanked ya for investin' ya time and money into creatin' it. James thanks ya, too, because he wouldn't be here otherwise." She beamed happily, her thoughts suddenly careering toward another goal. "And Victor will be thankin' ya eventually - once Ah hand his balls back in a sack stained with vengeance."

The man began to massage his temples, worried for his own sanity. "I do hope you avoid angering Sabretooth, Rogue. I've only given you the information so you're able to reunite him with his son, you know. I never intended to cause a small war in the Canadian mountains."

"He lives in the mountains, the Rocky Mountains?" she muttered, blinking as she thought about the trip ahead. "Ah'll have to take the jeep with the snow tyres, it's goin' to be cold up there when the hood of the truck hits Victor square on the ass."