A/N: I'm going by 'origin' for Logan's/Rogue's claws. In the book, the claws are over the index, middle and ring fingers. In the movie, the claws are between the knuckles. Seeing as that is nothing but trivial, I'm not even going to mention where they are except on her hands. Also, I'm borrowing Jenn's … thing and making Johnny a pyrotechnic- instead of having to start the flame with a flame starter or a lighter (which is useless if there aren't any) he can mentally create his own. Thanks for the reviews. I'm going to miss checking for them every day and rereading them every second when this story ends in the next chapter. Oh and I don't have a poster of Orlando Bloom above my bed that I kiss to sleep every night, not that I wouldn't like one.
(Saturday, 15 March 2003) Saturday, 22 March 2003 – Friday, 28 March 2003
XVII. Therapy
"Where should I start?" I asked jadedly staring down at my feet as I sat knees together, feet spread like timorous little girl and occasionally threw a glance towards the claws I had not yet summoned the strength or concentration to retract. My hands gripped the edge of the bed on either side of me making the claws protrude into the air. Three on each hand—all made of an ivory bone that left the skin around them jaggedly torn from the slightly round tips and the uneven surfaces and exposed the claret underside that reminded me of my skin the first time I had cut it open—serrated and messy. The six claws that extended almost an inch past my middle finger, having made their appearance for the sole rationale of tearing into Bobby's flesh. The bleeding had stopped almost the instant when Logan's mutation had kicked in and started the rapid coagulation as what little blood—compared to that which already covered my body—had dripped slowly down my skin, running into friction with dried blood on my arms. My incredulous stares, trembling and recurrent blinking had reduced to nothing but infrequent glances and shivers from my state of dress, and with that my grasping of the fact that I had Logan's claws had taken place. I now had Logan's characteristics, healing-factor, a replica of his personality and his claws—better enjoy them while I could, who knew how long they would last. I felt like such a leech, but could not help but wonder intriguingly if I was also a pyrokinetic. You are now more scary than cute, Johnny had commented. I had yet to thank him on the compliment.
"The beginning," Logan answered merely. He had been just as mystified, shocked and taken aback at the sight of my claws as I had, but not so much for the reason that I had them, but the fact that they were bone and not metal disclosed a piece of the past he was searching for. I had realized that he must have been thinking the same thing as he held my hands by my wrists with his gloved hands,—I had had to remind that the hazard was back—that these claws were apart of his mutation, not some additions given to him by some experimentalist scientists. I was sure that he would go to the Professor later, and my claws would open some doors to his past. Nice to know I had been a help to someone, I had thought to myself.
The beginning? That had been a while ago. I would have to dig back almost five months. The beginning of my stay at this school, the beginning of Logan's journey, the beginning of my masochism. The beginning of what would end in hell five months later. The beginning of a succession of serious mistakes I would forever regret. And he wanted to know it all. Then this would be a long talk I guessed, and I still had not taken my shower. I squeezed the bed under my hands anxiously and started.
"I started after you left," I began slowly. "I- I didn't know what to do. Shit, I had no idea what to do, and I hadn't really planned that far ahead when I left home." I paused and looked up to see what he was doing. He was watching me carefully and listening, sitting across from me on Tess's bed. Why did this feel like a therapy session all of a sudden? I lowered my eyes resignedly back to my feet, stopping my view at my claws again on the way. I cleared my throat.
"I hated it here afterwards. They were all afraid of me so no one really wanted to talk to me except the adults until finally Jubilee and Kitty decided they needed entertainment, and I even hated them. And I hated you most of all for picking me up and dropping me off here. I hadn't planned on running away to a school, Logan," I spit out heatedly. "And I sure as hell didn't need the school to be made to feel like shit. I had that pretty much covered on the road…. I didn't need to be brought here for that." I stopped, acknowledging that I had gone to far back. He wanted to know when I had started cutting myself, not my life story. I needed to skip ahead a couple of weeks. Where had inner Logan and Johnny evanesced to suddenly? They bothered me every other moment, but now when what I had to say involved them they could not stay around? I clenched my jaw irefully.
"Eric-Magneto-I still had a lot of him in my head. I think maybe it was his mutation that got me started. I had a new fascination with metal, and it was only so long until I cut myself with a piece. At first, you stopped me," I looked up at Logan, who still had his eyes on me. "Your memories, anyway, of the lab. You didn't like the cutting, but then later the Professor helped me lock you all up, and there was no one to stop me. I got over the pain pretty easily. So I had found my new outlet… and it worked, so I kept it…." That was it. There was nothing more to it—nothing I wanted to add or say. He did not looked satisfied as he took it all in; he stayed silent for what seemed like an hour.
"What about Tess and when I came back. Why didn't you stop then?" he asked. I stared indifferently at Logan. Right, he wanted to know everything. He wanted to know how I felt about his bringing Tess back. How I felt about being replaced by a rich valley-girl from Beverly Hills. This was a therapy session. Too bad I just could not give him a memory transfer or use telepathy to let him and inner-Logan talk. I had truthfully been hurt at first, but then I had accepted it, realized where Logan and I were on the relationship scale and gotten over it. Why should I have jealous? It had not been like he was my father or boyfriend.
"We had nothing when you came back, Logan. You were just another teacher whose face I had just happened to see before I got here. After, Xavier blocked you out; that was it. You were a guy I had known for four days, and then you were gone for five months…. Of course, I didn't fully realize that until you and Tess came back. You know, I thought we'd be the best of friends," I stopped, looking up but not at him, turning to stare at the new Orlando Bloom poster above Tess's bed. The poster Tess now so dearly called Orli and Lando and other sick nicknames before she gave it a kiss goodnight. I really did not want to do this: tell him everything, but inner-Logan already knew, and something told me the real Logan had a right to know, also. I turned back to my feet with a solemn sigh before I continued to drop wearily to my back on the bed. Figured I might as well get comfortable. Thankfully it was mostly dry, thought just a little damp, still covered in blood.
"And when I saw you, you looked shocked at seeing me, so that proved we had both changed. You didn't know me, and I didn't know you. And when you said 'hey kid,' that annoyed me more than it ever had, so I ignored you. And Tess. Look, I said 'Hi', and we didn't click, so you can't blame that for me. And why should I have stopped cutting? Because I had you? Yeah, you were there for the fights, and we just so fucking close weren't we?" My tone had transformed to a bitter growl. "Yeah, Logan, because I knew I could come to you to be accused of having sex with both a teacher and a student within two days. Everything was just so damned fine. So why the FUCK DID I NEED MY RAZOR!"
"Marie, -" Logan interrupted. Okay, I was fuming now, but at least I was lying down. At least I could not see him, so I would not be tempted to try out these new claws. The first time I had yelled at him in the hallway, it had felt good. Now, I just felt like I had when all the shit I was screaming about had happened. My fingers clenched around the sheets firmly, and I told him to shut up. I did not want to hear his excuses; I had already heard them once. Never did I glance up to look him in the face. I did not want to see his expression; I could already smell it.
"Sorry, Logan, but you already explained that one. You know Tess found my razor once, and she's seen my bed covered in blood before? I had nothing to worry about though. I gave her the excuse, and she took it…. Look, Logan, I thought this was supposed to be a talk. Why am I the only one talking?"
"Because I need to hear where it all went wrong-where I screwed up with you, Marie."
"This isn't about you Logan." I sat up straight and looked him in the eye. "I didn't start cutting because you said or did something that made me angry or sad. Don't try to put it all on your back. It was my choice that came from my decisions and my motives."
"I could have stopped you." Could he have? Did he think he could he have said or done something to change everything-to what-save the fucking day? What made him think that he had had that kind of influence on me? We had not had a relationship after he had returned—there had always been that façade of one since he had come back, but I would not have given up my razor for that—for that excuse for a relationship with Logan. Not when I had needed my razor so much and when it had done so much for me.
"No, you couldn't have. Because you didn't know, and I wasn't going to tell you."
"Why didn't you tell the Professor? You met with him every Saturday. What about Scott? You could have told him during your dinners, Marie. Why didn't you talk to anyone?" he asked. Why had I not told Scott? Because I liked Scott well enough not to place him in that position. The position where he had to chose either my trust and right to privacy or what he would think was my well-being.
"Why would I tell, Logan? So they could make me stop? And who could I have talked to? Kitty? Jubilee? Why waste my breath telling them how I felt. I wasn't going to tell them when they would never understand. All they would do is tell a teacher that I needed help or laugh behind my back at my 'issues'. And I was fine with keeping it to myself. I was doing fine using my razor."
"Really? Because it seemed to me like you were isolating yourself from everyone and taking to a piece of metal for release. What? Do you think that's natural? You think hurting yourself affects only you?"
"Nothing about me is natural, Logan! You obviously have experienced that for yourself. I'm sorry if I hurt you by not telling you, but I was not doing it for anyone other than myself. It was supposed to only affect me. What else do you want me say? I won't do it again. That's a given. What left is there to say?"
"That you'll come to me next time. That you won't keep all this shit buried on the inside. You'll talk to someone."
"… Fine. But you need to pick your choice, Logan. You have to be in my life or not. You can't teeter on the edge anymore. You can't come in occasionally to boss me around and then disappear until you feel like you want to boss me around again. I'm not going to let you. Our only conversations cannot consist of us fighting, or you telling me what to do. I'll just—I'll never talk to you again if that's how it's going to be."
Don't worry Darlin', we'll be talking nonstop from now on, Inner-Logan announced, finally making his appearance. His way of telling me that he was going to put every effort into not letting anything like this ever happen again. And I hoped that he would mean it this time because maybe it would be better this way—my having an actual person to go to in place of my razor.
"No problem, baby. Go take your shower. I'll be gone by the time you get out," he responded simply. I raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"That's it? We're done? You don't want to know about-?" I ceased abruptly as I realized I was about to say a certain male's name. "-anything else?" He shook his head, and I was thankful because I really did not think I wanted to talk anymore.
"Not unless you want to, Marie…" I started to shake my head, but realized that though I had told him everything I had felt like telling and that he may have been satisfied with what all he had heard, there were still some things I was curious about.
"Scott." He looked up inquisitively almost confused. "What exactly went on between the two of you? Did you… did you know the whole time? Did you have a plan? Yesterday, you were practically shoving it in my face that you were working together? Were you?" I looked to him anxiously awaiting the answers.
"…We talked a couple of times, Marie. I was trying to find out what was going on. I-He didn't know it was like this. I didn't tell him about the blood I smelt. I don't think he knew it was this serious." I nodded. Of course he did not because the Rogue everyone knew was weird, creepy, but not capable of such a morbid act of slicing herself open for indulgence, fulfillment. A loner, a lost girl, but still too innocent to ever purposely even dream of hurting herself. So when Scott had agreed to help Logan get to the bottom of this case, he had not expected there to be a razor lying in a pool of blood in an elevator waiting there for him. I wondered now that this was over if Scott and Logan would go back to their initial status or let their partnership grow into a companionship. The latter would be nice as well as beneficial. And I wondered if Scott—now that he had gone back to attending the regular dinners—would be up to an occasional student-teacher lunch because I did not want to lose what we had and especially when we had only just started to develop it.
"Anything else?" That was all I needed to know. About Scott anyway.
"Could you talk to Bobby? … Tell him to leave me alone?" I asked. So maybe I was acting craven by not doing the telling myself, but it was evident that Logan would have the superior effect on Bobby—more than I would than I would. I did not need Bobby torturing and tormenting me. Not now and not really ever again. He needed to get over his issues with me. So I had hurt his pride once or twice, and maybe he liked me, but he would have to put that behind him.
Especially since we're going to be dating, Johnny added, voice full of reassurance, not a modicum of uncertainty. I wished I could be as assure as him, especially on that topic, but I was sure about nothing now.
"There's definitely going to be some… talking to Bobby and Ben," he answered. Ben? Why had Ben surfaced in this conversation? I raised an eyebrow questioningly and asked him why.
"They were fighting earlier… you going to take your shower?" I recalled Ben leaving my room this morning talking to Bobby. So they had gotten into a fight, and I had missed Bobby's ass-whooping? What was I supposed to be feeling towards Ben now anyway? I did not feel any anger, hate or resentment towards him, but the attraction there had once been was gone as well. There was nothing but remorse that he had waited so long to change—to show me who he really could be. But there was gratefulness, also, that he had because for once—well almost—was nothing standing between me and the relationship with Johnny that was waiting to happen. Maybe Ben and I could be friends someday; maybe after things died down.
"If you see Tess could you tell her…" What did I want him to say to her? I was not ready to talk to Tess myself yet—not in a real, serious conversation anyway. Not so soon after her chosen actions. 'Going at it?', 'Like rabbits'? What the hell was that supposed to have meant? It could wait. "…that I'm sorry."
He nodded, and our conversation was over. I stood up and then receded to the pile I had left my clothes in near the bathroom door before Logan had dragged me to the bed.
You do realize that you told Logan to shut up, right? Johnny asked me. I went stiff for a moment. Shit, I had, had I not? Yeah, I had. I only hoped he had forgotten. Picking my clothes up, I proceeded to the bathroom. I twisted the knob, cracking it open and placed my forearm on the door easing it open a little before I stopped and turned back to Logan.
"How do I get rid of these?" I asked raising the hand holding my clothes to show him my claws. He looked up, taking an extended glance at my claws again. Searching for memories, maybe?
Yeah, Inner-Logan answered before Logan looked up at me.
"Looks like I'll be giving my first lesson," he proclaimed grinning before he stood up.
I stepped out of the shower wrapping a towel around me and sighed in gratification. The last of the blood on my body had swirled down the drain. I wished I could have coincidently washed away the last five months just as easily as I though back on them. But the worst was over. Or so I hoped. I did not think though that life had any shit left to throw at me.
Nothing you could not take, Logan stated. What the hell was he doing talking to me while I was naked? Had I not told I him to close his eyes while I was unclothed and still dressing? So why was he commenting on my self- fortification while I was wet and nude.
Don't communicate with me while I'm naked! I screamed wrenching my eyes shut harshly. What if I had been looking in the mirror while he had said that or if I had glanced at a part of my body Logan or Johnny were not allowed to see?
I didn't-, he started.
Did I stutter?! I asked. He stopped talking and I waited a couple a seconds until I felt somewhat sure that he had repressed himself to open my eyes. When I had dried myself off, running the towel awkwardly over my scarless and seeming foreign body and dressed in my clean clothes, I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the void of my room. Logan was gone as he said he would be, and I could tell—thanks to his senses—he had left about fifteen minutes ago. I looked to my bed to find my bed was sheetless. He must have had taken the sheets.
I thought you said I had to clean it up myself? I asked Logan fairly amused. I did not wait for his answer and instead went to the closet to retrieve a new set of sheets for my bed. Might as well make it now, I thought as I flipped the sheets over my bed. Afterwards, I sat down not knowing what I was to do next. What was going to happen after this; what if I only thought the worst had come except in the future I would find that it had only to come? I sighed at the morbid thought and looked down at my clawless hands. It had not taken Logan that long to teach me to resheath them. Was not much to it, but I had found that because they were not coated in adamantium they had not quite made the same *sing* sound going in.
You gonna pout over that, too, Darlin'? Logan questioned sarcastically and somewhat annoyed.
I'm not pouting, I retorted. So I was a little disappointed by the sound, but that was not the main source of my sorrow. I'm just discouraged by the future, and can you blame me? No, exactly, you can't. So shut up… please.
Go talk to me. We need to talk, Johnny interrupted factually.
About what? I asked. Was John even an alternative here?
Go tell me you like me. It's time you let me know. You still like me right? That was a given yes, but what about him? And what if he did not like me anymore. What if he had moved on? How would I know? Though the worst he could tell me was that he was over me—that was everything. I would not set myself up for that kind of disappointment.
What? Where were you yesterday when I kissed you! Johnny exclaimed. Look, Marie, I definitely like you. Stop stalling and go tell me you feel the same this time.
This time. I sighed resignedly. This time, not like the last, he wanted me to get it right. What if I could not though? I had not done much right in a while. I leaned back ready to let myself fall onto my back on the bed to contemplate more about it.
What are you doing? Don't lie down. Get up on your feet, open the door and go to my room, Whoa. I sat up straight, somewhat startled. Johnny had never used that tone with me before. Look, Marie you can fix this. You can fix us.
…Okay, I answered, still shocked. I snapped back to reality. Okay, not everything would go the worst way possible, right? So maybe I should just stop being so pessimistic. I stood up and headed for the door. I was going to go talk to Johnny. I had screwed up once, but this time I would get it right. I hoped. I closed the door behind me and stood still outside my room staring down the hall.
One foot in front of the other Darlin', Logan instructed. Easy for him to say. But this should not be hard, so why was I making it so? It was only my going to talk to the boy I liked who supposedly liked me. And he had told me himself he would say yes…
Because you're scared, Logan answered. But I could do this.
I was asking myself, I told him. I walked down the hall, watching Johnny's door get nearer and nearer with a sense of trepidation running through me. There was no one in the hall at all as I walked through it. Logan had done a good job of ridding of the wandering students. My trail on the other hand was still present, but I doubted that Scott and Ororo were to do the cleaning themselves. I stopped and stood inert in front of his door for a good five seconds before I knocked lightly on the door hoping Bobby would not answer it. Damn, if Bobby answered I would turn right back around and go to my room—'Sorry Johnny, maybe another time'. A couple of seconds later the door opened, and there was Johnny on the other side. I started to open my mouth to say something, but it would not obey and nothing happened.
"Hey… you okay? I thought I- Tess said something was going on, but she didn't say what…" he proclaimed, his discomfiture audible in his voice. Well, Tess did not know what was going on, but knowing her she had probably acted like she had.
What do I say? I could not start off with telling him what had happened. That was not why I was here, and the conversation could not begin with blood.
Fling yourself at me. Did he actually think this was funny? Here I was trying to 'fix us' as he had put it, and he was making jokes? Just trying to lighten up the mood. I refrained from rolling my eyes. Just tell me how you feel.
"I have to tell you something… Can I come in?" He nodded and slowly moved to the side, pulling the door open with him, to let me in. I stepped in and tentatively took a few steps to stand a few feet from him. I had initially wanted to go sit down on his bed, but I figured that would send across the wrong signal. He stayed at the door, his hand on the knob, and I wondered if that was a bad sign. And did his reluctance to remove his hand from the doorknob mean he did not trust me? Maybe he was expecting to ask me to leave soon. I looked down at the carpet, eyes narrowed slightly as I thought of what to say.
"…You wanted to tell me something?" he asked inquisitively.
I took a deep breath, looked up from the carpet into his eyes and told him the truth. "I've missed you, Johnny."
XVII. Therapy
A/N 2: Wow, did you see that X-Men 2 preview? The one with JOHNNY and ROGUE and Wolvie and Bobby and the cops and Bobby's family? That is going to be the best movie ever even if it is Iceman/Rogue (which isn't always bad)! Anyway, there's going to be one more chapter to make this an official RYRO. Even though I would love to leave you hanging right here, and believe me I thought about it. Oh and are there any major loose ends I didn't close yet that I should next chapter or if need be chapters? Tell me, please.