Summary: Eight months after Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect. Ryro Pairing.
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.
Author's Note: Rewritten with major editing.
Chapter IV
Rogue's Point of View:
Click!
I heard the signature flick of a lighter giving birth to a flame. The grind of metal against flint to awaken the fire he loved so dearly. The sound was foreign to me. It came so unexpectedly it jolted me out of my sleep. It had been months since I heard John play with the menacing instrument that preludes his manipulative control over fire.
Click! Click!
There it was again.
Eyes fluttering open I laid on my side and listened as my enigmatic pyromaniac tempted fate and the security of my household to revel in the gleam of a simple flame. I shuffled, restless, hugging the sheets closer to my naked body, somewhat chilled by his absence, but I wasn't bothered for I hadn't been sleeping deeply anyhow.
I was thinking, dreading, counting the minutes that turned to hours; counted the moment when John and I would depart to the airport and journey three thousand miles over land, mountain, and prairie to New England; awaiting our arrival, nestled on a vast stretch of land, a mansion and everyone who resided within the gilded residence.
I tried to hone my thoughts. Not allow them stray and meditate on the moment John and I would pass through the gates and greet hard eyes and down turned mouths. I didn't want to reflect on the melancholy hour, friends would portray me as a foe, a traitor to X-Men morals and cardinal laws.
Thou shalt not sleep or fall in love with the enemy.
My burdens rolled out of me in a heavy sigh. I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
"Can't sleep?" he asked
"Can you?"
"You're worried aren't you?"
I rolled my head on the pillow to spy out John in the shadows; eerily, his crystal blue eyes crossed the spaced that divided us, and held mine with great intensity.
"No," I lied. I watched his mouth curl into a sexy sneer and saw the motions of his hand glide over the lighter squared away in his right hand.
Click.
Instantly, a tiny flame flicked to life illuminating a well proportion face and prominent lips, sweet and sumptuous. Lips that had delivered endless amounts of pleasure earlier in the evening. Heat spread like a raging inferno across my body, a wealth of desire sent tingles down to my toes, and a crimson shade dimmed my cheeks.
"You need to learn how to lie better."
I narrowed my eyes warily. I hated how he treated me like an impetuous child. "Would you rather I tell you I'm terrified? That I'm afraid Logan would shred you to pieces."
He laughed. "I can handle the big bad Wolverine and the rest of those pansies hiding behind the Xavier's foolish notions of peace between mutants and humanity."
I grew cold, disliking his words.
Magneto's vicious ideals had apparently sunk deep into him and had taken root. I hoped to sway him. I wasn't expecting him to become an X-Man; however, I didn't want him returning to that madman's services if he ever chose to resurface. It made me wonder. If my powers were evolving, and John was growing in strength…what of Magneto. Bobby told me of the four doses of the cure he had received on Alcatraz. His mutant power would be monstrous now, earth shattering...
"Rogue."
"Huh?" I focused my eyes on my boyfriend and he arched a brow at me.
"Daydreaming again," he snorted, the right corner of his lip went up. "You should see a psychiatrist about that." His words grated and I glared at him. "You're gorgeous when you're angry."
Taken aback, I saw him rise from off the ground and close the distance in three slow strides. He sat down on the bed, his cobalt eyes penetrating, never veering from my own. He set the lighter aside on the nightstand and combed his fingers in my hair, delving through the knotted locks to take part of my platinum strands in between his thumb and forefinger.
"I love your hair," he whispered, sending shivers rocketing throughout me as he leaned close to plant a kiss on my lips.
I awoke in the morning, content and safe in his arms, almost wishing we didn't have to leave yet we found ourselves flying about my apartment finalizing and stuffing last minute items into our suitcases. Nervous fears sped up my heart as we journeyed down to the cab we had ordered to ride to the airport. A Christmas breeze greeted us. It was chilly for California. Rare. I snuggled into my jacket, while tucking the heavy duty coat designer from Sax and Fifth Avenue under my arm. I wasn't naïve about New York weather. I knew an industrial garment would soon be needed.
"Why did you have to pack so much shit?" John grumbled, shoving my carry-on bag into the back seat of the cab as the driver loaded our suitcases into the truck. "I hope there is room for us."
"Some of them are loaded with gifts John, so be careful." I remarked and then said with a glittering smile. "Don't worry I put your name on all of them."
"Swell," he muttered. "Let's go."
We climbed into the car and arrived to a glorious traffic jam. It was a major overflow. Hordes of people were entering and vacating the airport. Single people, couples, families, flight attendants and pilots swarmed the area; hoping to arrive to their destination to celebrate the holidays with friends and loved ones.
"John, grab a trolley!" I screamed once we were abandoned to handle our luggage by the driver.
"Yes master," he hobbled, mimicking the strange servant of Dr. Frankenstein.
"Funny," I said and helped him place our bags on the rack before entering the massive airport. I was calm and collected through the hustle and bustle and altogether once we finally boarded the plane. It was when we took off did the shadows of doubt and fear curl in my stomach.
"Worried?"
I looked at John. He frowned, obviously the little flecks of fear in my eyes, were not to his liking. "A little." I admitted that much but he could see the truth and I lowered my eyes. "I'm not ashamed of you John. I know what we have and it is real. But I-I doubt…they'd understand."
"I don't care if they do as long as they all know you are mine."
He spoke in such determination that it frightened me yet I was glad to be claimed by someone who wouldn't let me go. And John was just the sort of man. I took his hand and held it. It was strong, rough with calluses; the mark of a man hardened by toil and prejudice. I gripped it and grinned when he squeezed mine in equal intensity.
"Sleep," he said looking me over, noting the dark circles beneath my eyes due the lack of sleep hours earlier. "It will be over soon." He then turned and stared out the window.
"That's my wish," I whispered softly so he wouldn't hear and adjusted in my seat to gain a comfortable position and rested my head on his shoulder. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about our impending visit with old friends.
The whole day was spent aboard the American Airline 747 before we touched ground in the airport. Maneuvering through a great crowd of travelers, we collected our bags and checked through customs. By then my nerves were rattled and my stomach was tight and a fretful sleep filled with turbulence and a lousy airline meal certainly didn't add to my spirit of Yuletides.
"You look like hell Marie," John teased, sipping a mocha cappuccino he managed to acquire at a Starbucks in the airport.
I wanted to strangle him and demanded why he didn't get me one, but merely shrugged and said I should gone ahead when he offered to watched the bags on his return. But I didn't want to stand in that never ending line. A hot shower and a bed were calling me and his incessant laughter was driving me up the wall.
I tugged on my heavy coat, glowering, I watched as he coolly walked out of the airport with the black leather jacket he wore into the blistering wind and falling snow. Onlookers stared horror stricken at the maniac wishing for death through freezing in New England weather.
I caught the eyes of some who pegged him a mutant and they moved silently down the sidewalk away from us. I gritted my teeth to stop them from chattering and stared at him, stunned by his manner. He was boldly declaring he was a mutant and didn't give the slightest care on what people thought. I marveled at his braveness and envied his power. Hugging my torso, I stood next to him, hoping to seep some of his good heat that pulsed in waves from his body.
"You're cold?" he asked his finger consistently heating the coffee in his hand as he looked me over.
My head dropped a notch. "You're kidding right," I chattered.
He grinned then heralded a cab. "Get in," he said opening the door for me then helped the driver load our bags in the trunk. Thank God for the creation of heaters for it was toasty inside and I found myself drifting off to sleep. A blast of cold air stirred me awake and I shot up straight in the seat. John apologized and instructed the driver on where to take us.
"Dat's quite a distance mac," the driver said.
"If you got the time," John said flashing the almighty green. "I got the collateral."
"You're speaking my language." The driver said jovially and pulled his cab out of park.
"Sleep Marie," he said draping his arm around me and pulling me against him. I let out a soft moan when I connected his warm body. Drowsy, I let the heat emanating off John's body loll me to sleep.
Quarter past three beeped on my watch, gently, John shook me awake. Yawning, I stretched and gasped softly in exhilaration to the glittering lights adorning a massive iron gate and a huge house in the background. It took me a few seconds to figure out we had arrived at the mansion and my heart started thundering in my chest. I looked at the driver then to John. He was sullen and quiet.
"Want to ring the bell or should I?"
I held my breath. "I'll do it."
John pursed his lips. "Make it quick, I wanna sleep."
I stepped out of the cab. A cold wind slammed into me so hard I nearly fell into a nearby snow bank. Clamping my arms about me, I hurried with great speed to the voice box mounted on a brick wall that braced the metal gate. With a gloved finger, I pushed the button and waited. The freezing chill increased each minute I lingered outside and I began hopping up in down to get my blood circulating.
"Come on," I stammered and pressed the button three more times.
"Who in the blue fuck—it's three in the goddamn morning—fuckin' house better be under attack."
I giggled. I could only guess who that was. "Logan it's me—Rogue—open the gate."
"Rogue," he said in total surprise.
"Yeah, can you open up I'm freezing?"
"Jesus, kid, we weren't expecting yah till mornin'."
"I took an early flight. Open up," I literally screamed into the speaker. I didn't mean to but I was freezing to death.
"Sure." There was humor in his voice, but I knew it would dissipate the second his eyes laid on a certain someone I had brought home with me. Racing back to the cab I jumped in and snuggled next to my fire wielding boyfriend.
"Are we good?" John asked.
"Yes."
The black gate craned and swayed open and the cab drove inside and circled the brick round-a-bout to park in front of a massive four story mansion. "Nice place," the cab driver commented after he let us know how much his services had rendered.
"Thanks," John muttered, dishing out the fee. "It ain't mine."
"Visiting friends."
"No." He ducked out of the cab and slammed the door. He knocked on the trunk and the driver released it.
"He's not in the Christmas spirit is he miss?"
I shook my head and exhaled. "No."
When the driver finished flipping through the cash and a generous tip he got out the cab and went to aid John with the bags. Heaviness settled within me when I was left alone in the car. I entwined my fingers, shaking, doubt and fear coursing through my veins. It was a mistake to come here. I realized that now. John's mood had become ever more distant, chilling like Bobby's touch. Cringing, I set my eyes to the house, and glazed over the beautiful decorations that added to spirit of the season. A porch light came to life and the front doors open.
Wide eyes landed on Logan decked out in his traditional suit of jeans, white tank shirt and his tattered brown robe that had seen better day. Emotions swept me out the car and up the steps to greet the man who was more than a friend to me.
"Kid," he said swinging me into a huge bear hug.
"Logan." I smiled and pecked his cheek with a kiss.
"It's been forever." I felt him go rigid and knew he weeded out the two men depositing the bags on the steps; one sniff informed him that a traitor lurked in his presence.
"You actually brought him home! I know you're screwing the guy but—Jesus Rogue!"
"Logan, please." Shocked by his words and stared into his eyes and made a silent plea for him to be nice to the man I loved. Unwillingly, he grunted; a sign or promise he would be nice. It wouldn't be permanent. Logan never played the nice guy for too long. It never suited him nor did he try.
He moved past me his heavy boots pounding down the marble steps. I saw John's eyes trail to reach the towering six foot three mutant. He straightened to his full height, unafraid, ready for any assault. By then the driver had cleared the driveway and vanished in the waning night. I held my breath, expecting some sort of hard deliberation from Logan. Some verbal exercising his disapproval of John and our relationship. Amazingly he held his peace.
"Welcome home," Logan said in a gruff voice and bent down to take a bag.
"Yeah," John squeezed out and fixed his eyes on me.
I skipped down the steps and put a hand on John's shoulder. "Hey," I said. "Are you okay?" His tension eased only slightly at my touch.
"You want to stay here with these fucking people?" he sneered.
"John," I sighed. "They're my friends." I placed both my hands on the side of his face and looked him squared in the eyes. "And your friends."
"They're no friends of mine." He hissed.
The anger in his voice should have shocked me but I was only saddened by the fact that these three weeks would not be all to the good. I watched him grab a couple bags and march up the staircase and I hesitantly walked into the mansion.
Sighing, I took the remaindering bags inside and filed silently across the foyer. The mansion was the same. It smelled of polished oak and fresh flowers blowing in from the garden. I felt a strange sense of home and well-being as I followed John while he trailed Logan up the winding stairs. I wondered what he felt. What images crossed his brain while moving through the household of his school years.
"This is you," Logan said above an audible growl, putting his hand flat on the door of a bedroom, and pushing it open.
John charged in first and dropped our bags. Flicking on the lights, he surveyed our new surroundings and let out a hard grunt when he saw two single beds before him. "What the fuck is this shit?" he said gesturing his head to the beds.
I widened my eyes then fanned them on Logan. His expression was blank though his eyes betrayed the thoughts dancing in his brain. I shook my head. It was too late for him to try to protect my honor. "It's all we have left," remarked Logan. "The school is filled to the max, beside I wasn't expecting you bub?"
"I wasn't anxious to be here."
"They why don't you leave."
John stood firm like a soldier. His eyes were deadly. "Maybe I'll—"
"Guys please," I interjected in a loud angry voice. I was in no mood for this macho trip. "Logan, thanks its fine."
"Yeah," John said, glaring at Logan. "Besides we can always push the beds together." I saw the way Logan's eyes shot wide from the way John pronounced the words beds. Grinning deviously, he turned and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door close.
I heard Logan ease out a growl and shook my head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for him," he barked. "It's too convenient for the little dick."
"Logan," I said tears stinging my eyes. "You promised."
"Yeah." He grounded out before exiting the room.
I stood alone; slowly circling the room. I sank onto the bed, and tried to push the rest of what was to come in the morning out from my head. Ten minutes had passed and John didn't reappear. If I didn't know better he was probably planning his escape. Hiking up the window and scrambling down the wall as we speak.
Edgy from the long travel and the uncomfortable run in with Logan I stripped out of my clothes and started to rummage through our suitcases for something to sleep in. I found one of John's grey shirts and slipped into it. I felt gritty, yet didn't care. I was dying for sleep.
I turned and set to work on correcting our current sleeping arrangements. I unplugged the lamp and placed it on the desk. I then cleared the nightstand off the ground with ease and set it to the far side of the room next to the closet. It surprised me how easily I lifted the sturdy oak furniture, which should have been heavy but wasn't. Next, I pushed the single beds together and then spread a quilt over the top. I made up the bed with a sheet, fluffed the pillows and finally eased onto the mattress, pulling another blanket on top of me. I turned out the overhead light.
It was cold and lonesome without John. I yearned to feel his heat against me and his arms folded about my waist. I heard the door open and swallowed. I heard movement. He cursed as he stubbed his toe on something—probably the nightstand by the closet—and I stifled a giggle. I then felt the box spring creak and shake as he sat down on the bed. The blanket rose and I felt a thigh stretch against my leg and an arm close about my waist. I relaxed and snuggled into him. It was then sleep finally claimed me, and I dozed into a deep slumber.
Mini Note: Hope you like this version and in this one Bobby is not aware that Rogue and John are together. It's going to get really heated in the next chapter.