Thanks to the following lovely people that reviewed and made my day/week: I'mYourChemicalRomance, Cherish, Soon2Bme, Pink drama, Bluedaze, wolverette, Starlight2Twilight, ElizaV, Glykera, Onelife01, McLovings Grey, alexmonalisa, Comic-Cake, bologna121, dancinqt21 and Browneyeddevil :) Also a quick thanks to those that have added this fic to their favourites.

Apologies for how long this has taken for me to write and post, but hopefully this is worth the wait :P And to those who are up for the kidnapping plot, does anyone know how to crack open a safe? Its really important, a matter of life or death... Just ask Browneyeddevil LMAO

Real Love

All my little plans and schemes
Lost like some forgotten dream
Seems like all I really was doing
Was waiting for you

New York city is polluted, over populated and it stinks and no, I don't mean literally. Although my feet are slipping and sliding in my leather strapped gladiator style sandals, and you're lucky that I haven't sent you a scratch and sniff card because whoa... My feet are sweating more then Fat Bastard in a hot tub in Kuwait.

Why didn't I wear socks?

I shudder at that thought even though the sun is blazing high in the sky. White ankle socks and a pair of sandals? I would look like an English guy on summer vacation and we all know that they don't dress for Queen and country. 'Off with their heads' or 'I am not amused' springs to mind.

Oh my God, these fucking sweaty shoes!

I stop walking and remove my sandals, hopping from foot to foot and trying to avoid falling on my ass. Often people make assumptions within the first five seconds of meeting you, and what would my ass hitting a dirty side walk tell them? That I'm a bat shit crazy, drugged up to the eyeballs and I probably escaped from the crazy farm... Where bat shit crazy people are more then welcome, I bet they're welcomed with open arms and a straitjacket or ten.

Why is my brain always floating and sailing away from me into the clouds? My thoughts are sporadic and I ramble. Does that bother you at all? No sooner do I make a point, then I'm wandering onto another ridiculous...

My feet can breathe, Hallelujah, praise the lord!

Hopefully my clean, bare and virgin feet can evade the dog shit, broken glass, assorted drug paraphernalia, cigarette buts and any other unforeseen danger on the mean streets of NYC.

I'm calling them virgin feet because I have just popped my walking – with – bare – feet – through – the – unhygienic – streets – of – New – York cherry. Wait a minute, that means that they are no longer virgins... Oh, this is the proudest day of my life, I could cry.

Now, where to go in a large city, there has to be somewhere I can go. I have no cash, I'm walking barefoot and I must look like Eliza Dolittle before the makeover, can I find a Professor Henry Higgins? An English Professor that is not a phony?

I really would make a delightful and quaint flower girl, there 's an idea, an English flower girl that just so happens to be American. Stop shaking your head at me, Audrey Hepburn wasn't even English and she didn't even sing in the damn part.

"Lady!? Watch where ya walking!"

He's certainly not Henry Higgins, he is too fat for a start and the guy is driving a yellow cab. You would never find a yellow cab in Edwardian London.

I reply to the mouthy man in the politest way possible. "Go to hell!"

Did this ever happen to the Beatles? Oh, I bet that no-one ever tried to run down John, Paul, George and Ringo when they were walking across a level crossing.

So I keep walking, walking with my head held high, my sandals in my hand and the cab driver honking his horn... New Yorkers can be awfully obnoxious at times.

*******

Meanwhile a drinking, smoking and brooding mutant is lost in his thoughts. These thoughts are coming from the mind of a feral yet handsome man, viewer discretion is advised...

"You look like you've just lost your best friend." The bartender says, causing my inner rage to spike to new found heights. What gives this asshole the right to open his trap?

"Give me another." I growl and no I don't say please. Wolverine sure as hell doesn't remember his manners when surrounded by morons. I chomp on my cigar and slide the empty glass over to him.

"Whatever gets you through the pain buddy." He sighs, handing me a glass of amber liquid and its southern whiskey. Dammit, those thoughts are back. I thought I had buried them under two bottles of whiskey, six beers and a handful of stale peanuts.

I'm getting soft, I am soft... I blame the women, its always a females fault. Why do they have to be so difficult? Why does Marie have to be so God damn difficult? Is it her time of the month or something? Nah, I would have smelt the blood. She's just a typical woman and she wants to shout. Its as funny as hell when she's laying into someone else, my girl scares people shitless but it ain't so funny when she's yelling at me.

I can't do anything right, Jesus Christ she's changed over the years and I kind of like it, her anger turns me on. She knows what she wants... Well she did before she went and cracked her damn head. One minute Marie's friendly and up for anything, then she's screaming at me and throwing things. That fucking glass she chucked at me hurt, not that I would ever admit that to anyone...

I'm a cage fighting bad ass dammit!

"Another and make it a double." I demand, slamming down the empty glass.

Maybe I'm nothing more then an animal? Me and Sabretooth, we share the same blood and we're both no good. We shouldn't be around normal folk and things start to get complicated when feelings are involved.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm damn sure." What is this guy, a comedian? Of course I'm sure, I never make a joke when liquor is involved. Come to think of it, I ain't got much of a sense of humour these days, so I sure as hell wouldn't be wasting it here.

Another shot of whiskey and I'm hungry for more, a guy could get used to this, sitting in a bar without a care in the word.

Fuck, I ain't care free though. I need to think rationally; My past ain't a puzzle any more, however fucked up it is its my past. Even if I'm related to an asshole like Victor creed, those files of Stryker's don't lie and it was all there in black and white. Death, destruction and revenge... But, the past is in the past, that's what Chuck said and I have Marie now.

Marie, I love her and I ain't running for the hills. The girl gives a fucking great hand-job and she's mine, my girl can satisfy me and I sure as hell can keep her satisfied alright.

Hey, I've got the Midas touch and she loves it...

Why the fuck am I boasting about finger fucking my girl? It ain't none of your damn business, you bastards are fishing for information. I know your game, so back of before things get nasty!

This is bullshit... Did I just see a Bumble bee and an Octopus walk past the grimy bar window? Jesus Christ, I think I've seen everything now.

*******

Back with the young lady with an affinity for trouble and strife, even when she is sober minefields litter her path. She can currently be found taking refuge in a shady area beside an apartment building...

It's so hot, the sun has most definitely got his hat on for us all today. I don't have a hat and my scalp is sun-burnt, itchy and damn right unpleasant. Which is why I'm hanging around here, hiding from the summer sun, its out to get me and burn every inch of my skin, which will eventually lead to skin cancer... Lucky me.

I poke my nose a few times and sneeze with more ferocity then one of the seven dwarfs. What was his name again? Don't tell me I have a sun-burnt nose to match my burning scalp and head injury. I have been in the wars and have not come through it unscathed, how annoying!

Marching to the nearest clean window, I stand on my tiptoes and gaze at my reflection. Its quite hard to see, but I'm guessing that I don't do anything by halves and my nose felt left out.

Another day in the life of Marie/Darlin'/Rogue... Have I missed any other random name out?

Narrowing my eyes and squinting through the window, I rest my forehead on the cool pane of glass and wrinkle my brow. I could have sworn that something just moved in there.

I painstakingly study every part of the kitchen, glancing at the high end finishes and the humungous sized stainless still double oven with extractor fan. Oh my God, how on earth did I miss that!?

No, not the immaculately clean and spotless oven you silly readers. I mean that, the couple in there, they're um... on the kitchen table.

"What do you think you're doing Ma'am?" A stern voice interrupts my shock at witnessing such a erotic act. Imagine doing that on the kitchen table and then inviting your parents around to eat.

I step away from the window and plaster an innocent looking smile on my face. Oh crap, its a cop. He's going to think that I'm a pervert and I'm really a misunderstood girl, with a head injury and sunburn from hell itself.

"Me?" I say, walking closer to him and taking in his beauty. Wow, look at those muscles, they are certainly not rippling butter fat. "Nothing, nothing at all."

Shit, now I've made myself sound guilty. The cop side steps me and marches to the window, I watch his butt and consider flirting my way out of this situation. It could work, I'm a woman of many talents. "Your name and date of birth." Mr. Cop with a hard on demands, dragging his eyes away from the window.

"We've only just met and I don't give personal information to strangers." I reply, fighting the urge to avoid the inevitable. I dying to tell him what is on my mind but it would be treated as a rude, vulgar and unnecessary point to make. "You should be thanking me, you won't have to spend hours on the Internet tonight searching for porn while the wife is asleep."

"I don't understand." The frowning cop responds and what a shame, he's beautiful but he's as thick as two short planks.

I point to his crotch and smirk. "Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Oh, I just had to say that didn't I? Roll on the hand cuffs, police car and the jail cell that reeks of piss.

The cop blinks, gawks at his crotch area and has the sense to blush, clearly embarrassed by his body's reaction.

Before he has the chance to either arrest me or apologize, the window opens and a red faced, large nosed man bellows at the both of us. "What the hell! Have you two guys been watching me and the wife!?"

"The girl here was sir, but I've put a stop to it now."

"I wasn't watching them!" I cry indignantly, throwing my hands in the air and cursing the day I was born. "I might be crazy, I might even like sex a little too much. Yet, nothing and I mean nothing would make me watch two overly excited pigs going at it like rabbits... Rabbits pumped full of drugs and rocking back and forth on the kitchen table!"

"I'm not on drugs lady."

"Your pupils tell me that you're lying and the cop here is the one that was watching you. Watching you and getting sexually excited, see, take a look at his bulging and cocked pistol."

With both men now eyeing me as a potential victim of a rather nasty homicide, I back slowly away wishing that Logan was here and then I fucking run...

*******

Once again we approach Logan the badass of the mansion, he is now knocking back Canadian beer , after spending the best part of an hour grumbling about the inability of the Americans to create a good tasting beverage. He is finally satisfied...

Hell, I'm happy that I'm Canadian. Ain't it great to be born in a country that don't make pansy ass tasting beer. Make no bones about it, I'm a fucking proud Canuck. Its just a shame that my home country is never gonna be proud of me.

I've got a shot at happiness with Marie, she's the only girl for me. When I was up north, I thought of her everyday... as mushy as it sounds for the Wolverine to admit to that, I did. I stayed faithful and kept my dick to myself, growled at any woman that tried to pick me up and thought of my Marie in her underwear when the nights got lonely.

I had to screw everything up when I dumped her, but after finding out my past, I was scared. Scared that a fucked up guy like me would drag her cute ass into danger. I couldn't live with myself if she ever got hurt because of me.

Fuck, she did get hurt because of me!

Another guy enters the scene and sits on the stool beside me. He smells of cigarettes, breath mints and air freshener, just in case you folks at home gave a damn.

"I'll have the usual Tony and make it a double." The fat fucker sighs.

"Bad day at the office?" Tony the bar tender jokes, pouring him a gin and tonic.

"I drive a cab, I don't know the meanin' of happiness, ask my wife."

He greedily snatches the glass from Tony, and gulps down his drink. Even causing me to arch an eyebrow in surprise at his eagerness.

"Wanna talk about it?" Tony asks him, not that I give two shits. I'm not eavesdropping on purpose, I can't help it.

"Yeah, why not. First some young guy spews in the back seat." That's why he stinks of air freshener then, another mystery solved. "Then I nearly run over some crazy girl, she was just standin' on the level crossin." He complains.

"Was she a looker?"

"Yeah, too bad she weren't all there, its always the pretty ones. I was on my way here and I saw her again, she's got a gorgeous set of tits on her."

"She showed you them?" The bar tender questions eagerly.

"No, she flashed them at a cop. You shoulda seen the guy, he tripped over his own feet."

Shit, that sounds like something Marie would do, but there's no way in hell that she would. My girls got more sense then that. Course she knows I'd ring her scrawny neck if she flashed those fucking bouncing, pert breasts of hers at anyone other then me.

"How'd you know that is was the same girl?"

I search my pocket for a cigar and lighter, I need a damn smoke, just thinking of her breasts is making me hard. Maybe I'll have another drink too.

"She had these white stripes in the front of her hair." The cab driver says, describing a girl close to my heart down to a tee and I drop the cigar I was about to light.

"GOD FUCKIN' DAMMIT!"