A very heart felt thanks to all those that have reviewed and made my day: DejectedBlithe, grumpypirate, Onewishmakeitcount, JimandSteve, ThelittleRogue, bologna121, paranormallover, Starlight2Twilight, MilleniumHeart794, Sofimac16, alexmonalisa (Get well soon), Avid fanficreader and Nagaku Tsuzuku Yami :) Also a thanks to those adding this fic to their faves, you know who you are!
And a HUGE thank you to my new beta, IcedBlaze. Honestly, you are a life saver :)
Now, this chapter has switched P.O.V. I thought it was about high time we heard from a certain feral mutant, especially since Logan and Scott are so much fun together. LOL
12.04.10 - Another very quick edit.
Brooding, Musings and Feral Fury
What the hell was she thinking? She wasn't thinking, that was the problem. Why did she never think about the consequences? How many times do I have to tell her to think before she acts? She was ordinarily a good kid…a kid with a smart mouth, but a good kid, my kid. She was just a young slip of a girl that I had promised to look after, so the thought of throttling her until her brains rattled and I shook the stupidity from her mind would have to take a back seat for now.
I'm going to kill that Cajun man whore; I warned him to keep his hands to his goddamn self and that smirking asshole hadn't taken me seriously. Now Gambit and the Kid were God knows where, doing God knows what. Sure, Ro' would probably shoot a lightening bolt up my ass for gutting her Gumbo friend, but he had it coming anyway. But Marie, she was an entirely different story.
One Eye and I have been rotting our asses off in separate cells for the past twelve hours in the local jail. Jeanie and the Professor were trying to get us released, bailed out or whatever, and I was thinking that when I got my hands on Marie, she was going to wish that she had never been born. Not that I could lay a finger on her, her mutation would see to that, but that was beside the point.
The Kid had no idea how much trouble she was in. Hell, she thought she was going to be grounded indefinitely, well forget that, I'm going to chain her to the bed and lock her in her room for the rest of her life. She'll be cleaning every bathroom in the mansion with a toothbrush, damn it. Early morning Danger Room sessions for the next five years—I would cancel her birthday and ban her from ever setting foot in the mall ever again. Maybe then she would think twice before starting a bar fight, having my metal ancient ass thrown in the slammer and then running off with a guy she hardly even damn well knew.
Okay, Summers wasn't completely innocent in the brawl. It was probably the dog food the Kid kept feeding him, that had to mess with the brain. Yeah I know, I ain't stupid. Who gets into a fight over music anyway? Hell, I had been on the other guys' side; Cyke had a crap taste in everything except motorcycles and women. Jean's gorgeous, beautiful—what I wouldn't give to have her in my bed. No, I can't afford to think about that now, I needed to find the damn Kid and make sure that she was safe. Rogue was going to be the death of me, forget about my healing factor, I was going to be driven into an early grave.
Why had I agreed to become her guardian? It made absolutely no sense to me at all. Why hadn't I just left her skinny lonesome ass on the road? She had sat beside me in my camper-van, sassed me and wormed her way into my heart within minutes. I wasn't good with kids, I couldn't get away fast enough from the screeching moms and their screaming brats. I would have rather cut off my own balls, sat through The sound of Music every day for the rest of my unnaturally long life, dressed up as a God damn nun and sang along for all to hear then have my own kids. Yet, here I was, worrying myself stupid over Marie.
She knew right from wrong, her parents turned out to be pretty crappy in the end, but they taught her the basics; I could give them that. So why had she done it? Why had she taken off without a seconds thought? We had had an argument, a very one sided argument, and she had to be a God damn teen with a large chip on her shoulder. Damn hormones, that was what it was, and even the badass that's my inner Wolverine couldn't fight and win against those damn female hormones. Shit, what the hell have I got myself into?
The Kid had been acting weird this past week or so, weirder than usual. All girls I noticed acted strange at that age and Marie, she was hiding something from me. Writing crap down in that journal of hers, watching and sneaking looks at me when she thought I wasn't looking and she even kicked me in the shin. I had heard her and that yellow friend of hers chatting across the dining room table that night. I knew about the bag hidden under that Pryde girl's bed; I was waiting for the Kid to make her move. She had two choices: she was either going to try and sneak out with those damn friends or she would listen to me.
Who the hell was I kidding? I was screwed big time. One cute, brown eyed little southern girl had me wrapped tightly around her little finger and I had no chance, no chance at all.
The sound of approaching footsteps, a jangling set of keys, and a familiar scent snaps me out of my thoughts. The cell door is thrown open and a frowning Scott is shoved roughly into my cramped cell before his handcuffs are removed. "We're overcrowded; you fellas are gunna have to share." The grossly overweight, mustached cop smirks and closes the door behind him.
Oh yeah, forget about any promises I had ever made, the Kid was dead.
"How about a nice clean, fun game of eye spy?" This is hell, I have been sent to hell in a handcart with only this pansy ass for company. If I believed in past lives and shit, I would say that my ass is definitely being punished. "Not a fan of that game then, I see. How about we complete the Michael Jackson lyrics? It goes down a storm at dinner parties."
I kick my legs up and lean backwards against the wall on the bed, crossing my arms over my chest and I sigh heavily. "Don't tell me that you're not a Michael Jackson fan, Logan?" Scooter complains, pacing the confines of our joint cell.
"Do I look like the type of guy that worships the ground some nutty musician walks on?" I grumble, glaring at the graffiti covered walls and attempting to ignore the overpowering scent of stale piss.
"You shouldn't judge him..." One Eye bends over, clutching his stomach and never finishes his pathetic excuse of a lecture, thankfully. How the hell did he survive living to the ripe old age of thirty two? Why does Jean put up with him? I could make her happier.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" I demand, arching my eyebrow and watching him crawl on his hands and knees across the concrete floor.
"Stomach cramps." He hisses as my lips twitch and I bite back the urge to laugh my ass off. That is, until I catch a scent that would surely kill an Ox within one hundred paces.
"Jesus Christ, what died in here?"
"I believe that would be me, oh dear." Scooter groans, heaving himself onto the can and unbuckling his belt.
"No, no way Summers! Keep your damn pants on!" This is not happening, this is not happening, Marie is in for a world of pain.
This is not amusing any longer, not that I ever found this situation amusing in the slightest to begin with. One Eye has been on and off the throne for the past hour and holy shit, how much crap can one man hold in his...
"I need to lie down." Summers moans, massaging his gut and clambering slowly onto the bed. "It must have been the Whiskey, liquor always gives me gas."
"It was the dog food!" I snarl, kicking the cell door. "The Kid fed you dog food, for cryin' out loud!"
He looks shocked for thirty seconds or so then pulls himself together. "Rogue said they were snacks, I'm going to kill her!"
"Yeah, well, get in line One Eye." I growl, punching the wall in fury and gazing at my grazed fist healing before my eyes. "They've had a fourteen hour head start, dammit."
"I'm sure that Gambit has taken her back to the mansion." Cyke sighs, lounging on the hard-as-hell bed. I'm just worrying about nothing; the Kid is probably tucked up in bed, alone in her own room, sleeping the day away. "But he does have a sharp eye for the ladies. Storm says that he has a thing for expensive hotel rooms; I suppose all thieves are the same. I wouldn't even contemplate splitting a hair over this though, if I was you.
Gambit is a thief? Why in the hell is Ro' friends with a thief? My shit list is growing longer by the second and my claws are itching to stab and shred somebody, anybody. I have become domesticated and I'm living with a bunch of geeks, I'm going soft. I am soft and it's all that goddamn kid's fault. If her ass isn't at that mansion, far away from that Cajun, I'm going to skin them both alive and I sure as hell won't be holding back.