Hey there, internet. Not much to this story, but I wrote it so I figured I might as well share it. I'm one of those people who believes in the parent/child relationship between Rogue and Logan, but while the series does certainly hint at it, it isn't as developed as I'd like it to be. So, this is basically the first in a series of headcannons put to words about the off-camera moments between Rogue and Logan. This particular one takes place directly after "Turn of the Rogue" and before "Spyke Cam." Mostly just an introspection piece, so don't expect a great deal of excitement. Other than that, enjoy!


Late fall rattled the leaves with a bitter wind. Winter was coming; it had been well on its way for weeks now. The mountains were already deep with snow, but the lower places were still free of more than a little morning frost, a frost that was gone when the sun rose.

There were no clouds tonight; the stars glittered coldly and the air was as sharp as a knife when he left the warmer climate of his room for the balcony outside of it. Logan inhaled deeply, so deeply that his throat hurt with the sudden chill. Jolts of electricity laced through his veins, and when he exhaled he couldn't bite back a satisfied growl. The bitter season lingered so heavily in the wind he could taste it, even while the world had yet to touch it. The cold wind around his bare arms felt like the hand of an old friend, and he let out a satisfied huff as he made his way to the roof with motions made smooth by habit.

The fires inside had been put out long ago, but the scent of wood smoke still clung to the chimneys as he wove his way between them. The Professor had a way of rubbing off on people, even when they didn't realize it; anywhere else, he wouldn't have given a damn where he smoked, but ever since arriving at the institute he'd had to wrestle with a very strange new desire: the desire to set an example. The Wolverine snorted to himself. If anyone out of his past saw him this soft, anyone at all, he'd never be able to live it down.

He took his time unwrapping the cigar; it'd been far, far too long since he'd indulged himself, and he wanted to stretch this moment out for as long as it was worth. And it was just as he had clamped down and lit his ever-so-carefully-hidden treasure that he caught another scent.

Makeup, and too much of it. Leather boots meant for function but used as fashion. Tears.

Curious, the Wolverine angled towards the source. He never forgot a scent, and this particular one was a scent he had gotten accustomed to in the last few hours, at least enough to instantly recognize who it was. She sat against another chimney, legs pulled up to her chest and chin on her knees. She was facing the east, away from him, arms wrapped protectively around herself. She hadn't noticed him.

For a bit, he simply watched her. Her breathing was light, but a bit ragged. She'd been crying. She didn't move, not at the wind, not at the cold, not at anything. She simply sat and watched the thin sliver of the moon crawl its way past the horizon. From the smell of it, she'd been out here for hours. Probably hadn't gone to bed.

In the end, he knew it was going to be his smoke that would give him away. Even so, he didn't move to put out his cigar. He'd been waiting a long time for this, and dammit, he was going to enjoy it. She raised her head, sniffed, turned, then gasped and jerked back a few inches when she caught sight of his shadow.

"I—I—I didn't… I know I'm not—I didn't mean—I'm sorry, I—"

Logan shrugged noncommittally and took another draw on the cigar, and when no outward anger came from him then her stuttering half-explanations slowed down. When they came to a proper halt, Logan took the cigar from his mouth.

"Look, kid, ain't my business why you're here."

"What?" she blinked at him for a moment, as if she wasn't quite sure if he'd actually said what he'd said. "Look, I wasn't doin' anythin' up here. I just… just couldn't sleep, and…"

She trailed off, and in the silence Logan made an easy meander to take a seat on the point of the roof a few yards away.

"Ain't my business what you do on your own time. Tell you what: you don't tell the Prof I'm breakin' his smokin' policy, and I don't tell him you were here to see me break it. Sound good?"

She examined him for a moment, then warily nodded and settled back against the chimney. "Yeah, okay."

He nodded with a grunt and stuck the cigar back in his mouth, turning towards the front of the property. A wind kicked up, shaking the trees even louder than before and then dying down just as quickly. He could feel her eyes on him, but didn't react or even make an indication that he was aware of it. In all honesty, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the Rogue that had fallen into the money-lined lap of the X-Men, and he was damn sure she didn't know what to make of him, either. She seemed to have recovered well from the scrap in the mountains, despite having fallen into a river wearing almost nothing but cotton, but she'd been quiet. Hell, she hadn't said anything on the ride back, and he suspected the only reason she'd begun talking at all was when Charles had put her on the spot in the whole Mystique conversation. God knew why the hell Charles would board her up with Kitty, who seemed incapable of shutting up.

"You come up here often?"

Logan shifted enough to bring her out of his peripherals and into his vision proper. "Every now an' then. Gets crowded inside."

"Yeah, I guess it would." She pulled her knees up to her chest. "Can't be any worse where I was, though."

"That place Mystique had you all shacked up in?"

She jumped at the mention of Mystique, but gathered herself. "Yeah. Better than that."

There was finality to her voice, and he could almost see her switch off from their conversation. He knew when someone didn't want to talk, and he wasn't the kind of person to push an unwanted subject. So he just settled into a more comfortable position and continued to puff away at his cigar.

Rogue was different, that was for sure. She'd be an interesting addition to the lineup. The others, they all had a certain innocence… no, that wasn't the right word… inexperience that made them exactly what they deserved to be: kids. But he'd been around enough to see how people worked, and he knew that Rogue worked differently than them. This was the second time in what, five weeks that she'd been taken out of anything resembling a home and just dropped into another? He knew well enough that Scott had felt accomplished when the Rogue had decided to throw her lot in with them, but he'd be disappointed if he expected her to cozy on up to them just like that. She'd been burned, that was for sure, and here they were offering her a fire that was just a different color. It'd be a while before she reached out to take true hold.

"Kitty's loud."

Logan couldn't help an amused snort. "Get used to it, kid. We all got our quirks, and trust me when I say the Half-Pint don't shut up for nothing."

"Wonderful. The others like that, too?"

Logan grunted again. "The elf, a bit. Not quite as much. But he's a 'porter, so he can get places he shouldn't. Likes to pop in front of people. If you're walkin', you can kick 'im in the shins and blame it on him an' see if it gets him to stop."

He didn't look, but he felt the ghost of a smile pass over her.

"Doesn't sound too bad, though."

Logan shrugged. "No, it isn't." He took another draw and let it out slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night and eventually disappear entirely. "And compared to some of the things out there, it ain't a huge price to pay for safety."

Safety. The word stood out even after he'd said it and lingered in the air between them. Then she had switched off again, retreating back into herself and returning to silence. Logan sighed and stirred, not willing to let this one be.

"Look, kid, you've got a lot more problems than you deserve. I ain't gonna lie to you and say that it's easy here; we've all got our own problems, and we got our own ways of dealin' with 'em. And you gotta do the same with yours. You can go it solo if you want; may seem weird, but you could walk right outta here an' back to Mystique if you wanted. And if you told us not to follow, we wouldn't. S'your choice. But we don't leave people. This whole mutant thing, it's tough, no matter where you go. It's gonna hurt, and there'll be blood and tears and hidin' until you don't know where you stand. But if you stay, that's something you ain't gonna have to face alone. We got each other's backs, and if you decide to get ours then we'll get yours."

"I know." She rested her chin on her knees, but her eyes were hard despite her words. "I know. I know 'cause I know Kurt an' Scott an' Ororo. I knew 'em when I touched 'em. An' they're still here, tossin' an' turnin' in my head. The powers go, but the minds stay."

"The Prof might be able to help."

"I don't want his help." She looked away. "You've all helped me too much already."

"Fair enough. He won't help if you don't want it. But helpin's what we do. Don't matter if you want to be one of us or not; we'll still help you if you need it."

She turned back and looked Logan full in the eye, searching his gaze. Her eyes were green, he noticed. As green as Red's, he'd wager. After a moment, she broke contact and laughed mirthlessly. "You're serious."

"Damn serious."

Slowly, ever so slowly, a warmth crept into her face. Her eyes crinkled at the edges. Her smile became genuine. She settled her chin back onto her knees, looking off into the distance, and the two fell into a companionable silence.

Another strong wind kicked up, stirring the trees into yet another uproar. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, and a few stray leaves skittered across the asphalt below.

She was the one that finally broke the silence with a sullen "I guess I'll still have to go to school tomorrow."

"You went to school before, didn't you?"

Now it was her turn to snort. "Yeah, but I didn't go to school with you guys."

Logan blinked at her.

"I was shacked up with those others, remember? Toad, Lance an' them?"

Logan grunted in understanding but was cut off by a sudden "Shit!"

"What's the matter?" he asked, removing his cigar.

"Goddamnit, all my stuff's over there."

He blinked, and was halfway to saying "shit" himself before remembering that he had agreed not to curse in front of the students. Logan stood, and Rogue turned to face him fully.

"Where you goin'?"

"To go get it."

"You're joking, right?" But he was already climbing back down the side of the building, so she had to stand herself and trot over to peer over the edge of the roof.

"Shouldn't be too hard," he replied. "They ain't the toughest nails in the box. What are you doing?"

Rogue had begun her own descent, or rather, was trying to mimic the beginning of Logan's.

"Kid, you ain't—left foot, over a little more. Hand hold, to your right. Down."

Then she was just above him, so he had to descend a little more to give her room. She continued the next few feet on her own, so Logan went the full distance to the balcony below them. Looking up, he saw that she was having trouble on a particularly sheer spot.

"There's a crooked brick by your right foot. A little more over. There. Now move your hand to that windowsill."

She followed his directions quickly, and within less than twenty seconds she had joined him on the balcony. He looked her over quickly to make sure she didn't have any injuries, then jumped neatly off the balcony to the ground below. He looked back up to see her gaping at him.

"I'm not jumping," she informed him.

Logan shrugged and walked towards the garage. "Wasn't askin' you to."

"No, wait!"

He stopped and looked back at her. "Kid, you don't gotta follow me. I got'cher scent. I can tell what's yours an' what's not."

"You can't just strut in there and take my stuff!"

"It's late. You just hit the sack an' let me worry about it."

She scowled at him, and before he could say anything more she was swinging her leg over the balcony, inching back onto the wall and crawling down.

"Hey, kid, wait—!"

Her haste betrayed her, and she lost her grip on the wall. Logan managed to catch her before she hit the ground, but his face was pulled into quite a displeased growl as he set her upright.

"What the hell was that?"

She was blushing a bit when she squared up to him, but her face was anything but apologetic.

"Lost my grip."

"Oh, did you now?" he snapped sarcastically. "An' here I thought you were just trying to fly."

"Well, you just looked so happy doin' it that I had t'try it out for myself," she bit back with equal sarcasm.

"Listen, you don't need to help me with this. I can get your stuff back to you in half an hour."

"Says the guy who just lectured me on helpin' others? It's my stuff."

"You almost froze to death earlier today. You shouldn't be out doin' things."

"Weren't you the one that said it wasn't your business what I do on my own time?"

He actually bared his teeth at her, but didn't have a retort. She'd trapped him, and he didn't like to be trapped. Without much else to say, Logan snarled audibly and turned on his heel. He didn't say yes, but the damn girl took it as one and followed him anyway.

She was still following him by the time they reached the garage. She lingered back a bit, but didn't stop, even when he punched the code into the little pad on the side and the door rattled up. She slowed to give an appreciative glance at the van, an uncertain one at Scott's car, but stopped altogether when she caught sight of where Logan was headed.

"That's yours?"

Logan grunted and swung into the seat with a familiarity only an owner could muster.

"Funny," she said, making him pause in his movement to start it up. "I would've taken you for more of a Harley kinda guy."

He leveled a gaze at her, and she stared straight back, one hand on her hip and one eyebrow arched. Part of her stare was stubbornness, and another part was genuine curiosity. Logan sighed. He didn't think he'd met a teenager so stubborn.

"I am," he finally admitted. "I got one, but it's personal. I don't take my Harley where it could get hurt."

"Huh. I guess that makes sense."

A new silence descended between them, but this one was more uncomfortable than the last. It took a few moments for Logan to decide that he would be the one to break it.

"Look, Stripes, you don't have to come with me. I can get this done and you don't have to worry about it."

"I know." She closed her eyes and took a determined breath. "But… no, I think… I just gotta come with you. I should come with you. I gotta tell the boys. To their faces. It wouldn't be fair for you to just break in and take my things. They might think you kidnapped me or somethin'."

"You sure that's somethin' you're up for?"

She smiled without humor. "Hell no. But I think it's something I still gotta do."

Logan looked her over again. She didn't put up any fronts for him in her effort to convince him to let her come. She didn't try to hide the anxiousness on her face, but didn't try to display it, either; she knew what it was she was asking to get into, and she wasn't sugarcoating it to him or to herself. And that, at least, was something Logan could respect.

He sighed. "You ride?"

She blinked, and then a spark ignited in her eyes for a moment. She smiled nervously and nodded, so Logan moved to give her room on the back of his bike. She climbed on and took the helmet Logan offered her, but paused before putting it on.

"What about you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Don't need it."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it and settled the too-big helmet onto her head.

"Y'good?"

She gave him a thumbs-up, and the motorcycle roared to life.