Marvel owns the X-men, no Profit is being made from this work.
Author's Note - Just a short little update, just something I've been toying with and had to get down. Enjoy!
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Logan had watched them all amble off with Jono in tow, Marie with her box of records and CDs while Jono held an old record player, Jubilee holding his haul and rambling on about mp3s. Parking the Jeep back off with the rest of the faculty use vehicles he promised to give it a good wash tomorrow, his favourite out of the lot. Rubbing his eyes he knew he had paperwork to catch up on, all that stuff that came with the job he'd been given, the trust. Taking a page out of his students playbook he decided to put it off until tomorrow, walking along the school looking at all the kids out there enjoying the evening.
Making his rounds as he did every night he saw Ororo up there in her loft sitting all lotus, knowing she was meditating and centring herself. If he was a beast in him, he knew she had as much as her namesake within her, a Storm. Time and again he found himself up there, found out how easy it was to loose himself to the exercise, the incense that burned. Visions had come, so crisp and clear he thought they might have been memories, a woman in his arms, a sword in his hand. Shaking his head he walked along, running from the ghosts that haunted him, needing to live in the moment this night, content to be just who he'd become, Logan, the Wolverine.
The tree house was empty, remembering nights he'd sat under the rope ladder with a cigar, twirling it as he waited for her to fall asleep, hearing every breath taken until they fell even. He could smell them all on it, the stink of their emotions, marking it in their own way. Looking at the mess Logan knew what his next punishment for her would be, cleaning up after herself, finding all the things she'd lost and forgotten about. Lighting up his cigar this time as he twirled it out of habit he walked off along the edge of the woods, felt something calling to him in those dark trees, fought against it as he walked back to the brightly lit school.
Most of the kids were inside now, a few stragglers but he knew they'd leave him alone at the front entrance, too public for their sneaking back in. Sitting on the brick railing of the stairs he looked to the stars above, watched as they came to life in the ebon darkness, wondering how long until that streak of light across the sky came, the Milky Way in it's full glory. Stubbing out his cigar he reached for another, left it unlit in his mouth, shaking the box of wooden matches in his fist just listening to the rattle they made.
After a time the door opened, caught her scent immediately, heard her steps along the paved walk in those cowboy boots she wore. Looking up at the sky above he ignored her, wondered just what she was doing there even if he had his own ideas, just kept shaking his box of matches enjoying the rhythm.
"You know who you reminded me of when I first saw you?" Logan looked up to her now, the latest to join the school in a long tradition, Alison Blaire.
Raising an eyebrow in question Logan stared at her, waited for her knowing all he had to do was just play dumb for her to tell him. Sure enough she looked at him, walked to the other railing and sat down with her back to the wall, pulled her knees to her chest.
"Rocky." Alison said after a time, looking back at him with a saucy look.
"The Itallian Stallion?" Logan asked, laughing at the comparison.
Alison joined him, laughing hard as she shook her head, waving at him. After a time she caught her breath, looked up to the sky for a moment.
"Nah, though I'd throw a c note on you if you and him got into the ring. No, Rocky was my first roadie. Big guy, didn't say much, always grumbling and growling. Had to have been half way to seven feet, beard down to his belt, leather jacket and a bandana always." Alison said, running her hand through her hair before throwing a look his way.
Logan looked to her interested, let the matchbox quiet as he took one out, struck it and pressed it to his cigar, enjoyed the first puff of the rolled tobacco. He saw Alison take a breath, savour it in her own way, close her eyes as she settled down on the wide railing of the stairs.
"He was the guy we always sent to 'negotiate' when some gig tried to cheap out on us or even screw us on the dough when I was just starting out, me and the band. Always came back with the cash in hand, didn't say much whenever I'd hug him, I was always so scared back then before I made it big." Alison swung her legs across the rail, kicking her feet as she looked across to him.
"He also liked his cigars, nothing like yours, nah I can tell you don't smoke the cheap ones, you enjoy 'em. Nah, he would just smoke those nasty two dollar cigars you'd get at any truck stop just to make sure everyone took a hike when he wanted to be left alone." Alison slipped from her seat, walked across to him, stood there looking down at him.
Logan looked up to her, saw her reach for his cigar, let her take it from his lips only to press it to her own, puffing a way for a few moments as she stood there savouring it. He hadn't met a woman live who looked like she enjoyed one, knew Marie only liked the lingering smell of them, hated being around as he puffed away at one. After a time she handed it back, blew a few smoke rings expertly before sitting back down on the railing. Logan pressed it to his lips, tasted her on it, found he didn't mind it as he drew a mouthful of smoke, joined her in blowing a few rings.
"Yep, Rocky, walking brick shit house. Doing that first tour with that sleaze ball manager half the guys thought he was a bookie, always scribbling away in some little leather bound book no bigger than a date book watching the game. Call me curious but the one day I just had enough, we were out in some backwater town between gigs, everyone else was at the bar getting blotto, not Rocky." Alison clearly was lost to a memory, Logan slipping from his place walking across to her, handing her his cigar again.
Alison looked up, took it with a wink, rolled it between her lips as she savoured it. Logan just admired the view, leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking down to her. Holding the cigar in her delicate fingers she let the smoke free in a misty breath in the chill evening, smoke and mist mingling. She handed it back to him, Logan taking it and pressing it to his lips again, savouring the taste twice over.
"Now I won't lie and say I'm not a diva when I want to be, that I don't play at being a brat or a bitch when I want to get my way. That's show biz babe. So I had a couple shots, pounded back a beer, and then walked up to Rocky at his table with two beers in hand. Rocky loved his import beers, but he wouldn't turn down a free one. Sitting there I stared him down, worked every bit of 'I'm up to no good' until I saw him reach for it." Swinging her legs over the railing she looked up to him, Logan just listening quietly.
"The game was on, he had that little black book, he'd been scribbling in it. Course now he wanted to be left alone so I knew what was coming, saw him reach for some dirty cigar wrapped up in plastic, tossed the book down on the table between us as he tore it open. I snatched the book and ran from him, heard him swear a blue streak. Flipping through the pages I started reading, froze stiff there in the middle of some hick bar, felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach." Alison said softly, the night all too quiet suddenly.
Logan took a step closer to her, held the cigar out only to see her wave it off, stubbed it out under his foot after. Looking at her he saw a side of the woman he hadn't seen yet, not the teacher he found no fault with, not the rock star that loved the cheers of the kids and their adoration, imagined he might have caught a glimpse of the kid she'd been just stepping into a new life, overwhelmed but ready for a fight, reminded him all too much of so many others he'd seen around the school.
"I flipped the pages slowly, reading them and felt my eyes burning with tears, felt right an ass for what I'd just done, then I felt his hand on my shoulder. I looked up, saw Rocky behind me, not the big man that would make ya shit a brick, naw, saw him for the first time. Page for page in that book was some of the most beautiful, soulful poetry I'd ever read. We got off the floor, found a booth. For the rest of the night I let him read it to me over drinks." Alison looked up, her eyes misted with unshed tears, smiling despite them.
Slipping from the railing she stood near him, Logan looking down at her, still feeling the truth of everything she'd just told him, wondering just where she'd been going with it. He watched as she leaned into him, pressed a kiss to his cheek, wrapped her arms about him in a earnest hug for long moments. Rigid at first he let himself fall into the embrace, wrapped his arms about her just as he'd done with Marie time and again. He felt her breath against her ear, her cheek against his.
"I knew when I saw you that first time I guessed right in one, gruff and tough as you look and act, you're just a big softie. Don't ever change man." Alison whispered, pulling away from the embrace.
Logan stared at her, lost to her bright blue eyes. Reaching into her back jean pocket she pulled out a book, some paperback that looked worn and ragged, dog eared and beaten. Holding it in her hands she flipped through the pages, smiled to herself. Logan watched it all.
"Rocky was the only person I ever let write lyrics and songs for me, you ever get a chance to listen to my stuff you'll probably figure out which was his. I always keep a few of these around, give it a read sometime. Rocky by any other name, they wanted to get a picture of him on the jacket but he told them no, to just let his words speak for him. Thought you might like it." Alison handed off the worn paper back, Logan taking it gently, flipping through the pages.
Looking at the title he read it, Billboard Blues and Clubhouse Confessions, just a picture of an open road on the front. Looking to her again Logan opened his mouth, looking for the words he couldn't find. Feeling her delicate finger pressed against his lips he had another reason to thank her then.
"You know where to find me when you're done, take your time. I think I'm gonna crash, first period sucks, later Logan." Alison threw him a wink, opening the door, walking off with her cowboy boots clicking against the hardwood, Logan throwing one last look to her as she left, looking back to the book in his hands.
Flipping through it again he found his place back on the railing, found another cigar and lit up with his wooden matches. The dedication was obvious, smirking at it, opening it to the first page he started to read, felt the words reach him. The pages fluttered past, after a time realizing his cigar had long since burnt out and the milky way had risen high in the sky. Clapping the book shut Logan looked up to the sky, a longing for the open road filling him, the roar of a Harley tearing down the road. A smirk on his lips he slipped from his seat, knowing just how late the hour was, knowing just how close first period was. With a last look to the woods, he felt all the easier walking away from them, that beckoning call suddenly quieted.
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