A/N: Please don't sue me, I make no money writing fanfiction and I swear I don't own the rights!
Chapter 9
Sunshine and Fog
The next week went by great. I didn't miss anymore breakfasts and we had lunch together everyday in the garden. I even started picking her up after she finished work, which led to us having dinner with Hank five nights that week. Strange thing was, I didn't mind. I mean, I'm normally a pretty territorial guy, comes from being a feral. And with this girl, The Rogue, it went to a whole 'nother level. I mean, me and The Wolverine hated smelling desire coming off teenage boys when they saw her, our girl. Watching them watch her even though they're too freaked out by her skin to get close, too chickenshit talk to her.
The Cajun. Ice Boy. Firebug. Tin Can. Caught it on Scooter more than once too. He's the one that bothers me the most, 'cause he does talk to her even though I can smell he's still a little scared of her powers.
But Big Blue's a good guy, never looked at her like that, sexually I mean. He treated her like a niece or something and I'm pretty sure he's someone I can trust to watch her back, look out for her. And surprisingly, that didn't make me feel jealous or nothing, made me feel better actually. The three of us always had a good time, too. Me and Hank talking and my girl writing in the big blue notebook she uses for work and talking with Chuck. The two of us never use the little red one I got her when Hank is around. That one's kind of, special, just for her and me.
The morning after Rogue and me had our Big Talk, I gave the Professor her file back even though I hadn't finished it. I decided instead to wait for her to tell me whatever I didn't know already. And to my surprise, she didn't make me wait long. Everyday she'd share something with me about herself that no one else knew, big and small stuff. Maybe it'd be from her childhood (she'd always had dogs growing up and missed having one now). Her time on the road (how clean and well taken care of a trucker's cab was said a lot about the man and his level of trustworthiness). Or something about her life at the mansion (she used to have a little thing for Hank, back when she first got here and he was taking care of her). That last piece of information bothers me less than I thought it would. Probably helped a bunch that she was smiling and her eyes were laughing when she wrote it down, like it was no big deal, something to be joked about now. She said it was silly hero worshiping and she was only thankful Blue never made her feel embarrassed or self conscious, just let her grow out of it. I'd never smelled any desire on her when the Doc was around, so I knew she didn't feel that way about him no more. Must of been like she said, just a passing school girl crush. And in a weird way, if it had to be somebody, I'm glad it was Hank. Hell of a lot better than Scooter.
Toward the end of the week, I asked her to take a walk in the garden with me after dinner. We don't really ever walk in the garden, mostly we sit on our bench and talk, or I talk and she writes. And that night I was kind of, I don't know, feeling almost a little drunk from just being with my girl like that. The two of us, outside with a full moon and lots of stars, I was feeling real relaxed and comfortable. We'd had a fun time at dinner and she was even wearing that same pretty blue dress she did the second time I ever saw her. 'Cause of all that, I decided to push my luck a little and I asked her, sort of teasing, "So what kind of a name is 'Rogue' anyway?"
As soon as I said it, I thought I fucked up, I mean, she looked pretty damn surprised at the question. And real sad for a second. But then she wrote something down quick and smiled at me kind of smug-like before handing over the notebook so I could read whatever had her like the cat who caught the canary.
Well, what kind of a name is Wolverine?
I had to laugh at that. She's definitely got spirit and some Southern sass on top of that. So I told her the story as best I knew. Got the name from the men at the lab, same with 'Logan.' Both of them were on my tags and my tags were the only thing I had when I woke up. That I don't know if 'Logan' is a first or last name, or maybe an alias. Strange thing was, I didn't feel as dangerously angry or empty like usual, while I was telling her all of it. Normally, I get seriously pissed when I tell other people something personal like that. Instead with her, I felt more of matter of fact. Talking about it to her, I felt like, 'Yeah, it fuckin' sucked big time, but that's what happened. That's what I survived.'
She made it easier for me to talk about it all that bullshit. Made me feel sort of, matter of fact about it all. I mean, I still felt bitter and angry and everything about what they'd done to me, but for some reason it was like she could keep the worst of it at bay. While she's with me, she can make all the usual hate and rage and hollowness and shit inside of me bearable, easier. Like sunshine burning off a fog.
After I finished explaining about my codename, she looked at me kind of softly with those big brown eyes of hers and I swear I could almost hear her saying out loud how sorry she was I had suffered like that. I don't know how she does it, talk with her eyes like that, but it's pretty amazing that she can. Hell, even the expression she had practically like, radiated empathy. And all the scents that were coming off her were nice ones too, hard to describe but kind of like acceptance (similar to 'calm', but happier more welcoming). Concern – caring, (like 'worry' but less anxious, warmer and not at all sour). And something else, too. Maybe, maybe something like part pride and part awe. I'm not sure if I'm right about that though, and if I am, I still don't know what she would be proud of or impressed by.
So I was just sort of basking in all that goodness coming off of her (even if I didn't really get it – gifted horses* and all that), when she slowly reached forward with one of her little gloved hands and carefully took one of mine in hers, stroking the nooks in between my knuckles, right where the claws pop out. Where it hurts every time. About a minute later, she started writing again with her right hand, her free hand, and passed the book back over to me. Now she was smelling a little nervous,
Marie.
My name is Marie.
"Marie. Marie. That's uh, that's a beautiful name, darlin'. Real pretty... If ya don't mind, I'd like to call ya that insteada Rogue." I could tell she was real nervous about having told me her real name, worried probably 'cause I'm the only one here who knows it, I remember that from reading Chuck's notes. And it's a big gamble for her, I mean she's trusting me with this important, real personal secret, taking a risk on me and just going on faith alone that I won't screw her over. That's a big deal and I'm sure as hell not gonna let her down or make her regret it.
I don't mind. I think – I think I might like that.
But – could you not use it around other people? Just between us, in private like this?
No one – no one else knows that name except for you.
I'd kind of like to keep it that way.
"If that's what you want, then sure. I'll keep it to myself, Marie." Fuck if I can't help grinning like an idiot whenever I say her name out loud like that.
oOo
The next day was Sunday we ended up having a picnic dinner in our spot in the garden since it was so warm that evening. After we ate, Marie wrote she had something important to ask me. Well, of course I told her to ask away, that I'd tell her anything she wanted to know. She surprised me by explaining it was more like a favor or a request than a question really.
Logan, would you teach me to protect myself?
Like self defense?
She had such a serious look on her face, it almost made me crack a smile. Not at her in a mean way or anything, but sort of, for her. That she was brave enough and comfortable enough with me to ask that. But I wanted to make sure she was serious so I asked her outright if she was sure, really sure. When I read what she wrote in response, it felt like someone kicked me in the fucking balls.
I'm – I'm tired of being a 'Victim,' Logan.
I hate that the only way I can protect myself is my skin.
I hate that.
I hate it so much.
When I take the bad ones in, if they hold on long enough, I take all of them.
All of their twisted ideas & evil thoughts & awful memories.
It hurts me just as much as it hurts them.
The first time I absorbed someone it was almost like I could feel him living underneath my skin, moving inside my body, trying to squeeze me out.
There was so much of him inside me, taking up so much space, I could taste him, like he was still kissing me, even for days afterward.
I was so caught up in her words that I didn't fucking think twice and just outright asked what the fuck exactly happened when she manifested. She just sat there looking and smelling really sad and I nearly took it back, told Marie to forget about it. But then she started writing again, the most she'd ever written at one time since I'd known her. She cried a little while she wrote and some tears dropped on the paper, made a few of the words kind of blurry and my heart ache.
I wasn't very popular in school.
I was pretty quiet, but everybody knew I'd sass back if someone started to try and bully me.
The principal called it "back talking" when I did it to teachers.
I didn't really have friends. Mostly, I very happy to spend my time alone, reading & planning my dream trip to Alaska after graduation.
It didn't bother me much. I mean, I was friendly with people, I just wasn't real close to anyone. Mostly people thought I was a little weird, kind of odd for being so independent & wanting to travel like I did.
All that's why people started calling me 'Rogue.' I was sort of the official weird girl of our little town. You know the type of place, the sleepy, Southern stereotype: 1 high school, 1 general store, 1 old movie theater & 6 churches. There's only about 800 people in the whole county.
I did used to have one friend though.
Her name was Heather & until 7th grade started, we were pretty much inseparable.
But then boys started noticing her & she – she sort of moved into a different crowd.
Well, 10th grade had just started, we were both almost 16 & Heather began dating this senior, a football player. The town's golden boy, kind of.
About halfway through the year, she came by my house one night & asked me for help after almost 4 years of her basically forgetting about me.
But she told me the senior had been hitting her & making her – do things to him.
Heather was terrified, she didn't know who to ask for help since he was so popular & the son of the richest man in town. She was afraid to break it off with him herself.
Plus the community's so small, gossip spreads like wildfire, people take sides & then the self-righteous judgment follows. It's practically tradition there. It didn't help either that her parents were big on reputation & upholding a certain perfect 'image.'
So I told her I'd talk to Cody – that was his name – for her in private. That I'd be discreet, but clear that it was over between him & her.
That I'd tell Cody I'd go to the Sheriff if he didn't leave Heather alone. I thought I could use that as like a threat against him to keep him from making a fuss.
I was so foolish, Logan.
I didn't even think that he might do something to me when I confronted him. I was just so angry, you know? I mean, how dare he hurt her? Who the hell did he think he was? And I never thought –– I was just so stupid, Logan.
I talked to him alone in the school parking lot after football practice one evening and he started screaming at me, poking me in the chest real hard with his finger over & over again.
Some of his teammates heard him yelling & came over and – and then things got out of hand.
They dragged me into the boys locker room & one of them held my arms behind my back while a few of the others started – started touching me & pinching me over my clothes.
I was so scared, Logan & I kept begging & screaming for them to STOP but they wouldn't. They just wouldn't.
I was crying & Cody kept saying that I must want it since I got his girlfriend to break up with him. That I must want to be his new girlfriend –– and that he shared everything with his team mates.
That's when I started feeling really strange, like this humming or buzzing sensation running through my skin.
It didn't hurt, it was more like the feeling you get right after you get a little electric shock. Kind of tingly & hyper aware. Really alive.
And that's when Cody kissed me.
My first kiss.
It was so awful, Logan. All wet & his tongue was kind of slimy & he tasted sour & bitter – I think because all the boys back there dip.**
That's when my mutation turned on for the first time. In the boys locker room of my high school, surrounded by those – those things.
And then it was like Cody couldn't let go, like he was stuck to me. And I could feel him like, flowing into me, inside of me. All his ugly thoughts about me & what he was going to do to me. Everything he was feeling, all the disgusting lust & hate & anger he felt toward me for helping Heather. And then fear. Fear of what was happening to him, fear of what I was doing to him. Fear of me. So much fear mixed with this awful, growing hate.
That's when his veins started turning black & the other 3 boys started screaming & the 1 holding me let my arms go. I think the only reason he wasn't hurt too is because I wore long sleeves that day. Funny how my fashion choice might have saved his life. And more of my sanity, probably.
It took me a little while to push Cody off of me, his whole body was almost locked in place & he was still holding onto me so tightly. The other boys didn't help me or their friend, they just took off. One of them called 911 from the coach's office.
When I finally did get Cody off, he dropped to the floor & started convulsing & foaming at the mouth.
I started screaming. It was so horrible, Logan. I was so scared & just – shocked. I had no idea what happened. What I'd just done to him. How I did it.
I don't remember much after that, not until my parents took me home from the hospital the next day.
The same hospital where Cody had to stay behind. Where I put him.
Where the first boy I ever kissed was in a coma for 3 weeks.
I didn't go back to school after "The Incident." My parents pretty much locked me in my room 24/7 as soon as we got back from the hospital.
They came in to feed me twice a day but wouldn't let me out of my room except to use the bathroom. Said it was "too dangerous."
At first my mama brought me my food, but she just kept crying whenever she looked at me & so finally my daddy started doing it instead. He just ignored me.
When my daddy told me Cody finally woke up, I thought maybe they'd let me out again, or at least tell me what was going to happen now. If I was in trouble for hurting Cody, if they knew how I hurt Cody. If I was going to be home schooled now, if everyone in town knew what had happened, if we would have to move. If they hated me.
Instead Daddy said, "Cody's awake." Then he threw his old Army duffel bag on the floor, the one he said he took with him to Vietnam, & he told me to start packing whatever stuff I wanted to keep.
It was probably stupid of me, but during the 3 weeks I'd spent locked in my room, I never thought to leave on my own. Like runaway or escape or something. I kind of felt like I was in limbo then, like until I knew anything for sure, nothing was really real. And how else was I going to find out what happened to Cody, what was wrong with me?
I think the worst part was my mama & daddy not telling me anything until then. The waiting for explanations or for something to happen.
They left me alone all that night even though I was banging on my door & screaming at them to tell me where I was going, what was happening. I was so scared & angry, Logan.
I did finally give in & pack around 4 in the morning, though. Every scarf & long sleeved shirt I owned, some jeans, my green cloak my uncle living up North had sent me, plus my 2 favorite books & my journal. I put on my great-grammy's white opera gloves & waited.
Around 8 my daddy unlocked my door & told me to get in the truck.
I didn't see my mama.
Daddy dropped me off at a bus station a few towns over from ours, gave me $500 & told me not to come back home because mutants weren't welcome in his house or his family.
Then he drove off.
The only thing that kept me from flying off the handle and ordering my girl to tell me exactly where these fuckers lived right now, was that seriously annoying little voice in the back of head telling me to keep myself under control. That Marie didn't need me getting all pissed off or to start ranting and threatening those assholes. 'Course I was already swearing and spitting up a storm by then. Startled her good when I jumped up all of a sudden like I did, too. It's just, I had to move, I had to pace, I had to do something. Took me a minute, but I calmed myself down and parked my ass back down next to my gloved girl on the stone bench. She was looking pale and a little sad, crying a bit too, but what pissed me off was that she smelled ashamed.
Now I'm the first to admit, most times I have no idea what to say to comfort a crying woman. But this time it was important. Real important. I could hear The Wolverine inside of me growling at her pain, promising retribution to those who had forced themselves on her and hurt her. The ones who dared to lay hands on his mate. And to my surprise, he did think of Marie as his mate, 100 percent. I shoved that revelation aside though and took her hands in mine, made her look at me. I wanted to make sure she understood how serious I was.
I told her that she'd done nothing she ought to be ashamed of or feel guilty over. That those boys and her parents were the ones who should be ashamed, not her.I told her she'd done nothing wrong and what had happened wasn't her fault. She hadn't hurt that boy on purpose even though he deserved every single minute he spent in that coma and more. I said that her parents fucked up and never should have kicked her out. Their job was supposed to be to love her no matter what and she got the short end of the stick when she got those two for parents. They didn't deserve her.
She started crying harder, making these sad little gasping noises, but I kept talking and telling her it wasn't her fault and she was pure and clean and good. Hell, I said I could tell right off she was someone I'd be lucky to know and that's why I kind of pursued her like I'd been doing. I said that last part a little differently though, I didn't want to make her uncomfortable or anything by coming on too strong. But shit, I had been basically chasing after her since the first night I saw her. The tears kept coming though and I didn't know what else to do to make her feel better, so I gave into The Wolverine's urgings to hold her and mark her with our scent and make our mate feel safe. I picked her up and plopped her down in my lap, wrapped my arms around her and held her while she cried.
When she calmed down a bit, I told her that we could get started on the self defense lessons tonight, right now, if she wanted to. After all I have a standing 'reservation' (or 'dibs' as Jubilee calls it) in the Danger Room every evening from eight until eleven. Everybody knows to stay away so there won't be any prying eyes or interruptions. She thanked me with those big gorgeous eyes of hers and then gave a little nod.
I told her that from now on, I'd look out for her and take care of her. Make sure nothing else bad happened. When she wrote out Promise? in shaky writing and looked at me with those big brown eyes, I wanted to kiss her so Goddamn bad.
Instead I just said "Promise, Marie" and hugged her real tight to me. When I pulled back after a minute, her face was so close to mine. She looked so damn beautiful, even with the flushed skin and the red puffy eyes and sniffley nose. Again, I got that real strong, almost instinctual urge to kiss her, but I knew now wasn't the right time. So I held back The Wolverine and reached forward to brush some of the tears off her cheeks instead.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Stupid.
A/N: Yes I am leaving it on a cliffhanger! I'm so sorry, please don't hate me! But please do review!
* 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.' An old expression meaning in the above context, just shut up and enjoy it while it lasts.
** "All the boys back there dip." 'Dipping' is an American slang term for chewing tobacco.
For those of you not familiar with the American public schooling system, it is divided into three parts. Kindergarten through 6th grade is elementary or grammar school. Middle school or junior high is 7th and 8th grades and high school is 9th through 12th grades. 9th grade is also known as freshman year, 10th is sophomore year, 11th is junior year and 12th is senior year. Generally, 7th graders (like Heather when she ditched Rogue) are 12 to 13 years old. Sophomores (when Rogue manifested) are usually 15 to 16. Meaning most American kids are in school from starting age 5 to 18, when they graduate high school. Also meaning, for those of you paying attention, Rogue lied to the Professor about how far along in school she was...
Thanks to the following for reviewing, favorting and/or putting this story on their alerts!
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jll98765 – Hey thanks again for the heads up on my epic screw up. I went back and fixed it and gave you a little shout out.
Hey-yo – Glad you're still liking the story, I love reading your reviews so thanks for writing them! As for Rogue speaking, well we shall see, I guess. ;-)
calla – LOL, I looove the word moxie. Isn't it great? So glad you're liking the story, I'm not really into PWP either. ;-)
