APOCALYPSE
Disclaimer: I'm getting kinda tired of putting this on every chapter, go see it on the other ones. Author's notes: yes, another cliff hanger. And if so little people keep reviewing the chapters, all of them will have cliff hangers, he, he, he. What, does the story sucks now or something? Tell me the truth, you lost interest, right? Never mind, if you think it sucks, I'm gonna finish it just to piss you off. (jk) Enjoy.
CHAPTER TEN:
THE RIGHT TRACK
Rogue had to admit it. The nightmares she'd thought were a result of the remains of Remy's psyche in her mind, were more frequent and bizarre, hence she wasn't getting much sleep a of late. They'd lost two days 'cause Logan had taken the wrong turn a couple of times and they had lost two tires already. Logan was a quiet travel companion, and there were times she'd swear she would die of sheer boredom. But all in all, she loved being on the road. She would never feel as free, going were the wind would take her. In this case it was more than a figured speech; the two wrong turns had been a result of a change in the direction of the wind. Quiet as he was, Logan was always a pleasant company; and though he might have been less fun than Bobby, he was also a lot less whiny. She was liking this trip far more so than the last one. Mainly because, while in the first one she'd been running from something, now she was running towards something; a destination. Curiously enough, she mused, in both opportunities the one that had gotten her running had been Remy. She felt a tingle of guilt, remembering how she'd left him in a coma after a kiss she was having a harder time forgetting than the memories she'd absorbed w as a result of it. And what had she done after that? She took off and left him when she should have staid by his side. After all that had happened between them; after his confession, she recognized Remy's influence in her actions. From day one, and as much as he'd professed his love for her, Remy LeBeau had kept her at a distance. Now she could understand why, but it still pissed her of that he wouldn't trust her enough. It wasn't as if she didn't have a past of her own. She'd worked with Mystique, and knowing very well was she was doing; unlike him with Sinister. But with that kiss, he'd given her everything; he'd given himself completely, thinking he'd die. And with the package came his self-hate, the disgust he felt for himself and the sins of his past, and his desire to keep everyone away from him. She shivered. If she'd done that when she didn't have a real reason; if she'd abandoned him when her feelings and her memories were as confusing and hard to understand as they had been, mostly sensing his love for her on top of the rest. What would she have done if the situation hadn't been so favorable for him? If she'd known what those memories meant, if he'd wanted to die.
"Hey kid..." came Logan's laconic voice. She diverted her eyes from the side of the road and her thoughts from scary possibilities, focusing both on him. "I think we're there, see?" he pointed to the contour of a city and the dark, smoggy cloud above it that broke with the pure air of the countryside. She'd been too absorbed by her thoughts to have any idea of the suburbs of what city they were starting to transit and her eyes were too heavy to try and make sense of the map.
"Ok, we're there..." she begun. "And there would be...?" she motioned with her hands for him to continue.
"Chicago." He said without turning around to look at her. For the last few days, she'd noted, Logan had turned into some sort of Zen master. Always quiet, meditating; deep in thought. Like a taller version of Yoda, but not *that* much taller. If he had in his mind half the things she had running in hers, she wouldn't blame him. She'd felt it. There was a thick, tense atmosphere; a dense sensation of expectation in the air. What they were waiting for eluded her completely, though.
"Ya think we'll find him, Wolvie?" she asked worriedly. What if the urge she felt to find Remy meant he was at danger? Why did she believe that thought had more true in it than what she cared to consider?
Logan grunted. "Well kid, if we're finding him it ain't gonna be thanks to my sense of smell, that much is certain." He sniffed the air and shook his head, while they went further into the city, leaving the suburbs behind. She blinked confusedly.
"What do ya mean?"
"Either the Cajun's cologne is very popular, or the bub's been walking all over town. It's hard enough as it is to follow a scent around here. There's thousands of 'em."
She sighed. Why couldn't their lives be simpler? "We'll have to drive around 'til we find him then, Wolvie. We have to." She said resolutely and Logan nodded, frowning.
"Then what kid? We drag him by the nose back to Chuck's? Ye know he ain't coming back, doncha?" he said, finally looking at her. Rogue's eyes filled with tears.
"He will! He has to! We have to let him know he's still welcome, that's all." She said desperately.
"Here kid." Logan handed her a Kleenex. "He...he's something to do here." He muttered.
"So have Ah." She said bluntly, wondering where that had come from. Logan stared at her for a moment, as if finally understanding something crucial, but then frowned again.
"So..." he begun. "Ye too?"
"Me too...what, Wolvie?" he groaned and hit his head on the steering wheel.
"Shit, kid! It's like I have it on the tip of my brain! I should fucking know this!"
She patted his shoulder compassionately. "Don't worry Logan. We'll find out what's this all about when we find Remy." She said sweetly, Logan smirked.
"*If* we find him."
They'd been driving around town for four hours, not wanting to think about how useless their efforts were turning out to be. They were hungry, cranky and sleepy and it was only 9 a.m. Considering neither of them had slept at all the night before, it was understandable.
"We ain't finding the swamp rat, Ah tell ya!" Rogue spat in frustration.
"Shut up kid, or I'll make ya." Logan spat back, apparently equally frustrated, so she decided to go easy on the feral man.
"Can we stop for a bit? Stretch our legs, grab a bite maybe?" she begged, batting her eyelashes. Logan huffed and parked the Jeep.
"C'mon kid. We'll walk fer a while, find ourselves a decent breakfast fer a change."
They hadn't even reached the corner when they saw the flashy lights of two police cars stopping a block away. Why did they both know they were onto something, none of them would know. Coming across a crime scene in a city like Chicago shouldn't have meant anything, yet they were both drawn to it; they didn't even had to tell the other. They'd both felt it and they both knew that.
"Can you find his scent here?" Rogue asked robotically. Logan appeared to be a little more anxious than her.
"Sure. His and an ol' friend of mine's." he hissed, speeding up his pace.
Rogue's reaction upon seeing the trashed café made Logan forget about old grudges for a moment. She gasped and fell flat on her butt, staring dumbly at the sign.
"Angel's" he read out loud and pulled Rogue back on her feet. "What is it, kid?" he asked kindly, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her and leading her to the steps of a building so she could sit down. She was oddly pale and her eyes were big as saucers. She lifted a shaky finger, pointing at the café.
"Oh my Gawd! Ah've seen this place!" she cried.
"What, the café?"
"Yeah!"
"So what's the big deal?" he asked, a little annoyed, but trying to sound supportive. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"Ah've seen it in my dreams! C'mon!" she stood up abruptly, running away and around the corner, with Logan following her confused.
"Wait" where the hell are ya going kid?!"
He followed her to a dark, seedy alley, where he could pick up the Cajun's scent more clearly, plus two other scents that made him shiver. Creed's and blood. Cajun blood to be more accurate. There was a few cops standing next to a plastic bag and Rogue stopped short, almost fainting. He supported her before she had a chance to fall again.
"He's.he's." she stammered. Her brain had gone numb. Logan helped her sit down again and pushed her head between her knees.
"Breathe kid. I'm gonna check that, ok? Don't worry, I'm sure it's not him." He smiled reassuringly and she nodded dazedly. Was he, though? Sure, that is. Yeah, so.he wouldn't say anything but he cared about the guy. The thought that he might be dead had made him a little sad. Just a little. But when he'd smelled the blood and seen the corps, a sense of doom had washed over him. He *needed* to protect him; both of them, or the world would be lost. He might have not known where those feelings where coming from, but now he knew, at last, what he had to do; what was expected of him and why. Rogue was still working on not hyperventilating when a strong arm pulled her up and nudged her away from the alley. She thought Logan looked even more edgy than before, if that was even possible.
"What.? Where.?. Was he.?" she mumbled.
"No, Harpoon. Walk, now!" he speeded both their paces.
"Where are we going?" she asked anxiously.
"I got Gumbo's scent. We gotta find him, quick!"
"Why?! What's wrong?!" she cried.
"He's hurt, and I don't think in the best of companies." He said dryly.
All she could answer was. "Oh."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Disclaimer: I'm getting kinda tired of putting this on every chapter, go see it on the other ones. Author's notes: yes, another cliff hanger. And if so little people keep reviewing the chapters, all of them will have cliff hangers, he, he, he. What, does the story sucks now or something? Tell me the truth, you lost interest, right? Never mind, if you think it sucks, I'm gonna finish it just to piss you off. (jk) Enjoy.
CHAPTER TEN:
THE RIGHT TRACK
Rogue had to admit it. The nightmares she'd thought were a result of the remains of Remy's psyche in her mind, were more frequent and bizarre, hence she wasn't getting much sleep a of late. They'd lost two days 'cause Logan had taken the wrong turn a couple of times and they had lost two tires already. Logan was a quiet travel companion, and there were times she'd swear she would die of sheer boredom. But all in all, she loved being on the road. She would never feel as free, going were the wind would take her. In this case it was more than a figured speech; the two wrong turns had been a result of a change in the direction of the wind. Quiet as he was, Logan was always a pleasant company; and though he might have been less fun than Bobby, he was also a lot less whiny. She was liking this trip far more so than the last one. Mainly because, while in the first one she'd been running from something, now she was running towards something; a destination. Curiously enough, she mused, in both opportunities the one that had gotten her running had been Remy. She felt a tingle of guilt, remembering how she'd left him in a coma after a kiss she was having a harder time forgetting than the memories she'd absorbed w as a result of it. And what had she done after that? She took off and left him when she should have staid by his side. After all that had happened between them; after his confession, she recognized Remy's influence in her actions. From day one, and as much as he'd professed his love for her, Remy LeBeau had kept her at a distance. Now she could understand why, but it still pissed her of that he wouldn't trust her enough. It wasn't as if she didn't have a past of her own. She'd worked with Mystique, and knowing very well was she was doing; unlike him with Sinister. But with that kiss, he'd given her everything; he'd given himself completely, thinking he'd die. And with the package came his self-hate, the disgust he felt for himself and the sins of his past, and his desire to keep everyone away from him. She shivered. If she'd done that when she didn't have a real reason; if she'd abandoned him when her feelings and her memories were as confusing and hard to understand as they had been, mostly sensing his love for her on top of the rest. What would she have done if the situation hadn't been so favorable for him? If she'd known what those memories meant, if he'd wanted to die.
"Hey kid..." came Logan's laconic voice. She diverted her eyes from the side of the road and her thoughts from scary possibilities, focusing both on him. "I think we're there, see?" he pointed to the contour of a city and the dark, smoggy cloud above it that broke with the pure air of the countryside. She'd been too absorbed by her thoughts to have any idea of the suburbs of what city they were starting to transit and her eyes were too heavy to try and make sense of the map.
"Ok, we're there..." she begun. "And there would be...?" she motioned with her hands for him to continue.
"Chicago." He said without turning around to look at her. For the last few days, she'd noted, Logan had turned into some sort of Zen master. Always quiet, meditating; deep in thought. Like a taller version of Yoda, but not *that* much taller. If he had in his mind half the things she had running in hers, she wouldn't blame him. She'd felt it. There was a thick, tense atmosphere; a dense sensation of expectation in the air. What they were waiting for eluded her completely, though.
"Ya think we'll find him, Wolvie?" she asked worriedly. What if the urge she felt to find Remy meant he was at danger? Why did she believe that thought had more true in it than what she cared to consider?
Logan grunted. "Well kid, if we're finding him it ain't gonna be thanks to my sense of smell, that much is certain." He sniffed the air and shook his head, while they went further into the city, leaving the suburbs behind. She blinked confusedly.
"What do ya mean?"
"Either the Cajun's cologne is very popular, or the bub's been walking all over town. It's hard enough as it is to follow a scent around here. There's thousands of 'em."
She sighed. Why couldn't their lives be simpler? "We'll have to drive around 'til we find him then, Wolvie. We have to." She said resolutely and Logan nodded, frowning.
"Then what kid? We drag him by the nose back to Chuck's? Ye know he ain't coming back, doncha?" he said, finally looking at her. Rogue's eyes filled with tears.
"He will! He has to! We have to let him know he's still welcome, that's all." She said desperately.
"Here kid." Logan handed her a Kleenex. "He...he's something to do here." He muttered.
"So have Ah." She said bluntly, wondering where that had come from. Logan stared at her for a moment, as if finally understanding something crucial, but then frowned again.
"So..." he begun. "Ye too?"
"Me too...what, Wolvie?" he groaned and hit his head on the steering wheel.
"Shit, kid! It's like I have it on the tip of my brain! I should fucking know this!"
She patted his shoulder compassionately. "Don't worry Logan. We'll find out what's this all about when we find Remy." She said sweetly, Logan smirked.
"*If* we find him."
They'd been driving around town for four hours, not wanting to think about how useless their efforts were turning out to be. They were hungry, cranky and sleepy and it was only 9 a.m. Considering neither of them had slept at all the night before, it was understandable.
"We ain't finding the swamp rat, Ah tell ya!" Rogue spat in frustration.
"Shut up kid, or I'll make ya." Logan spat back, apparently equally frustrated, so she decided to go easy on the feral man.
"Can we stop for a bit? Stretch our legs, grab a bite maybe?" she begged, batting her eyelashes. Logan huffed and parked the Jeep.
"C'mon kid. We'll walk fer a while, find ourselves a decent breakfast fer a change."
They hadn't even reached the corner when they saw the flashy lights of two police cars stopping a block away. Why did they both know they were onto something, none of them would know. Coming across a crime scene in a city like Chicago shouldn't have meant anything, yet they were both drawn to it; they didn't even had to tell the other. They'd both felt it and they both knew that.
"Can you find his scent here?" Rogue asked robotically. Logan appeared to be a little more anxious than her.
"Sure. His and an ol' friend of mine's." he hissed, speeding up his pace.
Rogue's reaction upon seeing the trashed café made Logan forget about old grudges for a moment. She gasped and fell flat on her butt, staring dumbly at the sign.
"Angel's" he read out loud and pulled Rogue back on her feet. "What is it, kid?" he asked kindly, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her and leading her to the steps of a building so she could sit down. She was oddly pale and her eyes were big as saucers. She lifted a shaky finger, pointing at the café.
"Oh my Gawd! Ah've seen this place!" she cried.
"What, the café?"
"Yeah!"
"So what's the big deal?" he asked, a little annoyed, but trying to sound supportive. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"Ah've seen it in my dreams! C'mon!" she stood up abruptly, running away and around the corner, with Logan following her confused.
"Wait" where the hell are ya going kid?!"
He followed her to a dark, seedy alley, where he could pick up the Cajun's scent more clearly, plus two other scents that made him shiver. Creed's and blood. Cajun blood to be more accurate. There was a few cops standing next to a plastic bag and Rogue stopped short, almost fainting. He supported her before she had a chance to fall again.
"He's.he's." she stammered. Her brain had gone numb. Logan helped her sit down again and pushed her head between her knees.
"Breathe kid. I'm gonna check that, ok? Don't worry, I'm sure it's not him." He smiled reassuringly and she nodded dazedly. Was he, though? Sure, that is. Yeah, so.he wouldn't say anything but he cared about the guy. The thought that he might be dead had made him a little sad. Just a little. But when he'd smelled the blood and seen the corps, a sense of doom had washed over him. He *needed* to protect him; both of them, or the world would be lost. He might have not known where those feelings where coming from, but now he knew, at last, what he had to do; what was expected of him and why. Rogue was still working on not hyperventilating when a strong arm pulled her up and nudged her away from the alley. She thought Logan looked even more edgy than before, if that was even possible.
"What.? Where.?. Was he.?" she mumbled.
"No, Harpoon. Walk, now!" he speeded both their paces.
"Where are we going?" she asked anxiously.
"I got Gumbo's scent. We gotta find him, quick!"
"Why?! What's wrong?!" she cried.
"He's hurt, and I don't think in the best of companies." He said dryly.
All she could answer was. "Oh."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
