Chapter Two
By the Light of the Moon
Shadows chased each other across the walls as cars passed by. The night was bitter, bringing along with it a mask of fog and mist. Marie pulled her Indian-patterned fleece blanket more snugly around her tiny frame as she curled into a tight ball. She watched the circus display on her white walls waiting for fatigue to sweep through.
She had been working for Stryker for two months now and she was beginning to have her doubts about the quality of his character. On the outer shell he was an aged, sullen, and determined General. He was courtesy with her, but there was always an underlining of distrust and malevolent resolve. His goal was to find Wolverine and if you fell behind or showed doubt to his cause then, you could kiss your job – and possibly your life – goodbye.
Her eyes fluttered closed and she could sense herself slipping into the wonderful world of imagination. Then, she felt a pressure on her mouth and was torn away from the dreamland to discover a hand clasped over her mouth. The owner of the hand bent down and whispered gruffly, "Squirm or scream and I'll slit your throat."
She released the shield around her power and instantly felt her intruder's life force drain into her. She gasped as his powers, memories, and personality surged through her like a jolt of lightening. She struggled, shoving him off with a fury of force that didn't belong to her. He stumbled back, weakened, and slowly sank to his knees, his hazel eyes panged and bright with shock.
Marie hastily scurried off the bed, her eyes wide. Shook up, she hesitantly approached her attacker, quivering as he assaulted her mind. She gaped at his convulsing form, studying his brown hair, sideburns, and brood body. "Wolverine," she murmured and then raced towards her phone.
"Don't," came a strangled cry.
Marie, phone clenched in her trembling hand, peered down at him. "Why the Hell not? You just tried to kill me!" She began punching the familiar numbers to Stryker's cell phone.
"Please," he whizzed, battling with his weak body to get up. "I…wa'n't gon-na hurt…you." He shook his head as though trying to shake off the pain. "Please, Marie, wait."
"You – you know my name?" Marie clicked off her phone, but held it tightly to her chest as though the plastic could protect her if he tried anything. When she had joined forces with Stryker, he had eliminated her identity. Marie D'Ancanto no longer existed anywhere except in the memories of those she had left behind. She was known only by her codename: Rogue. "Why are you here?"
Wolverine clumsily gathered himself up, swaying uneasily on his feet like corn in a fall breeze. "Why are you after me?"
Marie laughed nervously, pointing the phone at him, the antenna aimed directly between his eyes. "Oh no, Wolverine. You damn well no why I'm after you or otherwise you wouldn't be here." She circled around him so that her back was to her door, blocking him and at the same time providing herself an escape. "You're a bloodthirsty killer," she went on crossly; disdain dripping from her words. "I've seen what you do to your victims. And I won't be one of them."
"You've been fed lies, Marie."
Her instant and justified reaction was to dismiss him off hand, but something about the way his eyes gazed at her gave her a sliver of doubt. Yet, she rebuked it, denying the twinge of skepticism that tingled at the base of her spine. "You're a cold blooded killer. Why the hell should I believe you?"
"There are things you don't understand, Marie. There are things you couldn't possibly know because Stryker would never allow you to."
Her interest was peaked. She'd never fully trusted her boss. "Like what?"
"Experiments. On mutants."
"And how would you know this?"
"We used to work together. I know lots of things."
"Have you ever actually seen any experiments preformed?"
"No," he answered harshly, and too quickly. "Not really."
Marie eyed him, scanning him once more. Now that he was standing she had a better view of him. He wasn't exactly tall, but he definitely towered over her. His hair was cut in an odd style: in the dimly lit room, it looked almost like ears of an animal. She scrutinized his face, finding that he was handsome in a rough and roguish way; kind of reminded her of a cowboy biker – minus the hat. Her eyes traveled down to his hands. They were large and strong, but she had a strange sense that the deadly weapons were – when needed to be – gentle.
Her gaze finally returned to his and her breath caught in her throat as their eyes locked. She searched his mysterious, murky orbs and found that they were indeed the windows to his soul. "You were one," she murmured, the phone sliding from her hand and crashing to the hardwood floor.
She closed her eyes, hunting him out. The Wolverine in her was standing forlornly in a vast and dark field. She felt his agony, torment, rage, and utter abhorrence. However, somewhere buried was a glimmer of light. "Love," she whispered inaudibly, opening her eyes. Who did he feel this hidden love for?
He was silently watching her and she gave a ghost of a smile. "Can I call you Logan?"
He jerked. "How…"
Marie tapped her right temple. "You're up here, sugar. When you grabbed me, I stole your life force. That's why you felt so weak." She inched towards him, cautious of his every move. "I like Logan. It suits you better."
"Call me what you like, kid."
Marie laughed and it was sweet and unguarded. "Kid? Logan, sugar, I'm twenty-five. I ain't no damn kid, bub." She covered her mouth with her hand. "Damn, sugar, with you in my head I ain't gonna be speaking like myself for awhile."
Logan shifted his weight, looking at her strangely. "You actually have me…" he pointed to her head "…up there?"
"Yeah. I do. I'll always carry a part of you, but soon I'll be completely me."
"So…you have…my memories?"
"Yeah, but I won't tap into them. It ain't any of my damn business."
He nodded, accepting her answer. "You've got quite a control over your power."
"It took me years. And I still struggle with it at times." She giggled uncomfortably, recalling the time she had been making out with her former fiancé, Bobby Drake. Her shield had come crashing down and Bobby had got the shock of his life.
"He'll be after you."
Marie snapped her attention back to the man before her. "No he won't. Stryker won't have a reason to."
"What? Are you going to turn me in?"
"I…" she licked her lips, confused and conflicted. "No. No, I couldn't turn an innocent man in: especially not a mutant. Us freaks have to stick together," she said snidely, the word "freaks" tasting gritty and sour in her mouth.
"You where in the Brotherhood," he stated.
"Look, Logan, I would love to divulge all the gory details of my life, but it's two in the morning and I'm standing here in my nightgown."
"You're right. Get dressed. We can't stay here anyway."
Marie held up her hands as though to fend him off. "Whoa, buddy, what's this "we" stuff?"
"I've told you, Marie. They're going to want you dead."
"Why? They don't even know you're here!"
Logan sighed, annoyed and impatient. "They'll probably be here any second. We've wasted enough time. You have two choices: come with me or stay here to wait for them."
"But…"
"Look, Marie, do you honestly think this place isn't bugged?"
She froze, snakes slithering up her spine. "My God," she muttered.
A bang from the downstairs jolted her and the color drained from her face as she realized it was the sound of her door bursting apart. Logan grabbed one of her scarves off the dresser and then snatched her wrist, the silky cloth the only barrier between them. He dragged her out of the room just as three men came crashing through her bay window, glass shattering and raining all over the room.
"So what do you say," Logan barked as he dragged her to the bathroom. "Are you with me or them?"
"You!"
Logan hoisted her up with ease and shoved her out of the already open window. She grabbed onto the pipe and slid down, landing in the professionally tripped bushes below. Logan was immediately at her side, the scarf still clenched in his fist. He yanked her to her feet and raced them across the backyards of her neighbors. Marie tripped, unable to keep up. Logan's arm snapped back at her sudden dead weight. Without breaking his stride, he flung her around and up into his arms.
Marie, her face pressed into his neck, had a revelation. The moonlight cascading a milky ray of light over his hard face, her lips centimeters from the pulsing veins of his neck, her sweat mingling with his, she abandoned any lingering doubt. She trusted him. And she would follow him anywhere.
And he was pretty damn sexy.
End Chapter Two
