lilangel211: you have no idea how many times I hear that, course I never tire of it hehe. Thanks Mish!
SilverDragonsFlame: thank you, I'm glad you think so.
This one is for you two and the feedback… course I'm still waiting for my girl to review *glares* Melly! Heh. This part is more about Rogue and Logan, hopefully my characterization of Logan is up to par.
(I have this monkey on my back that needs to be fed, he's violent when he doesn't… don't hesitate to make donations by hitting the little purple button at the end of this part. :P)
~Gimpy~
The moment Rogue knew she was safely hidden behind her thick wooden door, her 'together' façade faded into that of a shivering, whimpering little girl. Back pressed into the door, she slid down it, coming to a rest on the carpeted floor. The tears came in silent waves, her sobs hidden in her soft, cloth-covered knees. She clung to herself as memories and emotions overtook her mind - taking over the simplest ability such as breathing.
How could he just walk back into her life as if he'd left only yesterday? Where did he get off thinking he could just waltz back into her heart without some sort of repercussion for having broken it in the first place? Logically she knew that the shattered pieces of her heart had become that way without his knowledge but she also knew it was his own damn fault. Had he even spared one simplistic second to check up on her, he would have known the torment his lack of presence caused her.
In the years he'd been gone, no one treated her like he had. Even Bobby acted cautious around her - ever aware of her deadly skin. But Logan… he'd never feared her, so long as she was willing to be touched he would do it. That kind of connection had been lost to the now frosted girl. At first the months of isolation from all human contact had been unintentional but after a while she started to see it as a blanket of fake security. She started to crave that emptiness that would claim her deep in the night. The pain had become a guilty pleasure, something she used to torture herself without having to shed a bead of blood. When that wasn't enough for her, she knelt low enough in the dirt to draw the crimson liquid itself.
The release that came with the pain also came with knowing she was still alive. The worthiness of her life though, was a question even the sight of her own blood could never answer. What kind of life was she even living?
Hers was a hollow existence that was void of any pleasure.
And she liked it that way. It was better then before - when she felt happy and content - because those emotions made her weak, opened her up to the hurt and the pain. So she learned to deal with it all. Learned to live with it. She never could have foreseen that a matter of seconds could destroy everything she'd worked so hard at. The irony of it all didn't surpass her though. It was him who had given her faith again after she'd ran away and lost it all. It was him who got her to trust him implicitly. How could a girl not believe in someone who'd risked his own life for her? But then it was he who destroyed her, stole her ability to trust and her ability to hope.
Her head perked up from its huddled position on her knees at the feel of the door being pushed into her back. She knew right away who was trying to get in, she could smell him as clear as if he'd been around her every day. His was not a scent you could simply erase from your mind. It was musk and cigars mixed with spice and something so uniquely him.
Pushing back against the door, she enjoyed a brief moment of victory when the pushing stopped. The relief was quickly dispelled as Logan's raspy voice could be heard through the thick wood.
"Hey kid…" the words were simple but the emotion they gave her was anything but.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she stayed silent, praying for him to get the message and leave her alone. He never was that intuitive.
"Come on kid, talk to me."
The calming warmth in his voice was almost enough for her to open the door but she couldn't. Couldn't bring herself to face him. She knew in the pit of her stomach if she opened the door, removed the barrier between them she would snap like a twig standing in the way of a torrential storm. The worst part of it all was that she knew that if Logan wanted to come in he would, his strength far surpassing her own. That still didn't detour her. There was no way in hell she was going to let him know just how badly he was getting to her.
"Fine kid you win this time but I'll be back. We need to talk whether you want to or not." It was a threat she knew he was more then willing to go through with.
The breath that lodged itself in her throat thrashed its way out and she allowed her tense muscles to relax ever so slightly. It wasn't enough to quench the knots forming in her shoulders but she didn't care. Knowing that there would be no sleep for her that night, she waited until the moon chased away the sun and left the confines of her room.
Her stomach protested having missed diner but she ignored it. Her feet padded lightly against the floor as she made her way down the stairs. The darkness was all consuming even with the moons soft light filtering through the windows. She weaved her way through the halls expertly, having traversed them many times with the pitch-blackness. When she finally reached her destination, a muffled curse flew from her lips before she could stop it.
In a futile attempt to hide her presence, she flung herself backward into the wall. Her jutting shoulder blades bruised almost instantly and another curse spurted forth. Closing her eyes tightly she tried to ease her breathing. Pointless. It was all pointless. Made blatantly so when a head poked around the corner. Nothing seemed more enticing to her then the thought of the wall swallowing her whole.
"Hey." She didn't even have to look at him to know that there was a smug smile on his face to go with the tone of his voice.
Regaining a tempered amount of composure, she muttered, "Whatever." Pushing off the wall, she moved as fast as she could without running. Desperation was not an emotion she liked feeling let alone letting others know she felt it.
A sigh resounded behind her followed by footsteps. "Marie! Would you just-"
"Oh hell no!" Rogue cried, turning to glare menacingly at her pursuer. "There is no way in hell you get to call me that!"
"What? Marie? That's your name." It still shocked him to no end how much anger he could smell as it radiated off of her.
"No, see, I go by Rogue now. That girl, Marie, died the moment you decided to take your little show on the road. You lost the privilege to call me that a long time ago." It was happening, just like she knew it would, her ability to deny the man before her was waning right along with her sanity.
"I'm sorry. Is that what you wanna hear? Cause I am. I wanted to come back but you of all people should know that I needed to at least try and figure out my past."
"Right, your never-ending search for the truth." The deadly sarcasm that laced her words was really starting to get on Logan's nerves. "For some odd reason your mantra's starting to sound a little too much like an X-Files-Mulder moment." She was seething, the stinging words her only way to protect herself.
He was starting to get that. Hell he'd used it himself for as long as he could remember. "What happened that made you so jaded?"
"Life and all it's bells and whistles that I never got be a part of." If you asked her where those words came from she'd never be able to tell you except that they felt right. "See I got close to a fire. It was warm and it comforted me but it was a crock. A joke. I got too close and I got burned. So sorry if I'm a little scorned."
Logan wasn't as dense as he looked and he knew exactly who said fire was. She wasn't as cryptic as she thought she was. The words to ease this girl alluded him and all he could do was whisper another apology.
"I really am sorry."
"Save it for someone who cares." Her voice was shaky now, imitating the rest of her lithe limbs.
The tears that wrapped around her eyes tore at him, ripping him to shreds. Was he really to blame for them?
"I never meant to hurt you."
Choking back a sob, she managed to squeeze out a sorrowful, "Well ya did." The southern accent that had been almost completely missing returned with a vengeance. The tears in her eyes seemed to explode, forming salty waterfalls that raced down her cheeks. The energy to care was long gone. "Ah trusted ya. Ya were the only one ta care afta everythin'. Afta Ah ran, nothin' mattered ta me and then ya came barralin' inta ma life, made me feel. An' just like that ya were gone. Ya broke me Logan an' no words can put me back togetha." The tears streamed freely and her words barely came out above the sobs that racked her entire body and soul.
Desperation filled Logan, a desperation to pull her into his arms and hold her. He wanted to take away her pain even if it meant touching her skin to his. He resisted, knowing full well that she'd hate him for it. Probably one of the last things she needed at the moment was a fresh imprint of him swimming around in her head. The truth of the matter was he did care, had always cared and would for as long he lived.
"You've got to know I never intended to hurt you. You've got to."
"W-what does it matter," she croaked. "Ah'm already damaged goods."
With a viral shake of his head, Logan risked it all, closing the gap between them. He didn't dare touch her but he hovered close enough to feel the heat of her skin radiate into him. "You could become one of Magneto's mercenaries, turn against me, try to kill me and you'd still matter to me."
That reality hurt even more then the one she'd constructed in her head. "Then why no calls, no letters not a single word ta tell me ya were okay, that ya still cared? WHY!"
Reaching out his own equally shaky hand, he ran it through her hair and forced her straying eyes to stare deep into his. The courage to speak the truth was fleeting and he found himself hesitating. "I… I'm sorry." Chicken! He mentally scolded himself.
For a moment, she'd seen the truth in his eyes, a truth that would have made her forgive him but he bypassed it and she hated him even more for it. With a loud and severely sound slap of skin against skin, Rogue's tiny hand crashed into his cheek.
"Bastard," she scorned him verbally and physically before dashing away.
All he could do was watch as her back got further away from him until she vanished from sight. Cursing himself under his breath, he sulked and brooded his way back to bed, completely forgetting about the beer he'd left sitting idly in the kitchen.
The entire way back, the little prick of fury in the back of his mind escalated, growing into flow blown rage the moment he barged into his own room. The air in the room crackled and sparked, the deft sound of the door hitting the wall full force almost over coming the hazy argument going on inside his mind. Every single curse he could find poured into his head, directed solely at him. The hate came in folding waves, pushing down on his will to keep it in his head and not leak out. He had to forcibly hold the six nine-inch long blades from escaping through the skin that covered them. The flesh itched to be broken as it had so many times before, to tear through that layer and slice through anything within reach.
The urge bulged within him, filling his entire being until he lost any power to stop it. Letting out a long hard howl that reverberated off the walls, he let go. The sweet sound of the blades pouring forth reached his ears and he swiveled, connecting hard and fast with the wall next to him. He didn't care about the damage he was doing, didn't care that this room wasn't technically his, that the property that now lay in ruins would have to be paid for. His agile limbs bent and arched, slashing and carving anything that even dared to come into contact. The feel of the blades meeting residence never reached his fogy mind.
Releasing every inch of pent up anger, he fell onto the now disheveled bed. Drained and out of breath, he lowered himself down. No sleep would come to him tonight. Eyeing the pristine ceiling, the one place he never touched, he tried to ease his fast beating heart.
Those sparkling salty tears that had marred her innocent face were his doing. For almost twenty years, Logan had shielded himself away from any kind of intimacy, never letting his fortified walls drop for a single person. Then she had to show up in the back of his trailer, frozen and scared. A vixen. That's what she was. A sultry, exotic vixen that'd lured him in with the simplest of looks. From the moment she smiled at him sheepishly and then quickly shifted gears to complete and utter disbelief at his ability to just leave her, she'd snared him. She had gall, spirit and this underlining all consuming innocence that demanded you keep it that way.
Now?
Now she was steeled, toughened by circumstances he'd created. Not once had he stopped to think that maybe she'd done what he had. Let down her walls for him and solely for him. Not once had he entertained the thought that he meant as much to her as she did for him. The truth now lay blatantly clear in her eyes. He knew no one else saw it but he did. Just one effortless glimpse into her deep-set eyes and he'd seen it all. Her pain scalded him.
Draping a lazy arm over his eyes, he tried to block out her face, her beautiful, angelic and wholly grim face. A breathy moan broke loose from his exhausted hold. He'd always known deep down he was a brutish ass. It was the story book cover he used for everyone around him to look at. He just never thought he could do that to his Marie.
Closing his eyes, he vied for sleep to take hold. His strained muscles attempted to relax into the soft mattress as he stretched out along it. Mere seconds after he'd finally grown lax, a tormenting sound assaulted his senses. It was a sound he'd heard many times falling from his own lips late at night while sleeping in the dungy motels on the side of the road. A sound that took on softer more feminine hews.
Bursting out of bed and into the hall, his sensitive ears perked up and he followed the female whimpers down the hall and to the left. The agonized sound surged as he grew closer. Normally he left things alone but that voice… it was something he swore he'd had the displeasure of hearing before. His suspicions were confirmed when he came to a halt outside the owner of the voice's room. Running a callused hand over his bearded chin, he harbored the idea of just walking away. For all intents and purposes him being in there was more than a bad idea. It was suicide.
Exhaling softly, he mused, "I've risked it before, how's now any different." It was however greatly different than the times before. There was no detouring him now though and he reached for the knob just as an angst filled cry filled the room and then died down into torrent sobs.
'She was crying'. Just the thought made him curse. 'Now or never', his own self-proclaimed ultimatum. Taking in a sharp breath, he pushed open the door and stepped silently inside. The sight before him caught him completely off guard and in one heavy whoosh, he lost the ability to move. Pale silky white skin shone brightly in the effervescent moonlight. The form it molded itself into shook with sobs, curled into a tight ball in the center of the bed. Naked as the day she was born, the only thing that covered her body was the blanket she held tightly to her chest.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Logan cursed breathlessly. The skin that covered his cheeks burned up and he tried to cast away his glance. Honestly, he really did try but the sight before him entrapped him. She was more then a vixen, she was a siren. An untouchable siren that made you not only want but need to touch her even more. Cursing the horny animalistic parts of him, he tried to concentrate on the fact that his siren was crying, watering the soft silk sheets that she held so dearly to her chest.
"Hey…" Logan whispered loud enough for his voice to barely float to her.
Another scream barreled from her quivering lips and her instincts pulled the covers closer to her form. "What the hell are you doing in my room?" The anger to go with such words was lacking but it appeared no the less in her blood-shot eyes.
With a shrug of indifference, Logan stepped into the room just enough to close the door behind him. Last thing she needed was another student to get an eye full of her naked and vulnerable form. "I heard you screaming and I… Nightmare?"
Weary and worn out, Rogue tried to stop the shaking instead, nodding a faint yes at Logan's question. Disgusted with herself, she hoped this man didn't notice the sweat covering her entire body. He did. How could he not when the beads glistened in the light, enticing him to venture his gaze further down?
"One of mine?"
Rogue froze, gripping her cover even tighter until her knuckles lacked all color. With a bitter laugh, she bowed her head onto her knees. "It's so stupid… I haven't had one of yours for over a year and then-"
"I came back," he finished for her, stating it in a matter of fact way.
Another bitter laugh from trembling lips. "Yeah."
Uncertain of himself, Logan glided further into the room until he sat softly right on the edge of the bed. He kept to that edge until he was almost certain he'd fall off. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, yours aren't the only nightmares in my head." Above everything else, above the need to keep her from his prying eyes, above the want to forgive him, she did not under any circumstances want him to feel even remotely special. She would never give him that satisfaction.
"So… you sleep naked now?" He berated himself the moment the words tumbled out.
A blush tainted her already blotchy features. "One of the perks of having my own room. Plus the silk feels like heaven on my skin."
There was a longing in her voice that gave Logan a little glimpse into her heart. It was then that he realized in all the time he'd been gone some of the only tactile touches she'd received where from these sheets. It was her way of replacing the lack of hugs. His belief that everyone at this school was a geek was reaffirmed. Had no one even attempted to touch this girl? Without hesitation or second thought, Logan reached out a hand and ran it through her hair. A gasp from her was soon followed by something he could only categorize as a purr.
Rogue leaned into the new sensation. Sure Bobby held her sometimes, gave her sideways hugs and held her hand but there was always that underlying fear. Once again she was reminded of what Logan had torn away from her. The tears started again, flowing savagely down her cheeks.
Bringing her head closer to his, he placed a kiss at the beginning of her hairline and then leaned his head atop hers. He cursed her freedom to sleep naked, wanting desperately to hold her in his arms and sooth her. He settled instead to whisper calm words of apology and assurance into her ears while caressing her scalp with his hand and pressing more light kisses to her hair line.
She pulled away, still racking with sobs. "Pass… pass ma sweater." There it was again, that beautiful accent he loved so much.
With a smile he reached down and grabbed a huge black hoody off the floor. Before coming back up, he grabbed the matching pair of sweat pants and handed them to her. The first almost smile graced her sad face. That was his doing. Maybe he wasn't so bad…
Turning his head, he gave her some semblance of privacy. He battled with the desire to peek, just a little, as she dressed herself. When he finally built up the courage to turn his head, she was already dressed. "Wow, that was fast."
Another half grin. "Practice."
A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed. He didn't like the idea that she had to practice getting dressed fast for the benefit of others. She should get to lounge around like normal people. He was thrown from his thoughts when her spicy scent hit him hard. Staring down, he watched with curious eyes as she leaned into him. Slowly she arched herself towards him, coming to a halt inches from his face. With another sad smile, she leaned past him and grabbed her infamous opera gloves and a pair of socks. Leaning back, Logan caught her off guard, pulling her deep into a hug, her face falling intuitively onto the clothed part of his chest.
She couldn't believe how much she'd missed this, his burly arms wrapped tightly around her shuddering frame. Mesmerized by the unbelievable feelings it created, the tears came back in full force. The heart shattering sobs lost all cohesion in the white flannel cloth that covered his chest. The craving for these arms had always been a constant, something she'd die for, something she felt weak for wanting, having never believed he'd come back to her. Yet here he was, running broad hands almost twice the size of her own all along her back. She basked in his touch, letting it swarm her every sense, consume her very being because she knew, knew that this wasn't a 'forever' but a 'for the moment'. Somewhere in the days to come he would get the information he came for and then he'd vanish.
The emotions tried to make her cry harder but she'd already reached her quota. There were so many tears to cry but she lacked the energy. Her head throbbed violently in the wake of the nightmare and the storm of tears. Tiny hands clung to Logan as air left her lungs faster then she could breathe it in.
The chest she now leaned on heavily rumbled as Logan whispered something incomprehensible to her. She felt herself start to move back and forth in a soft melodic rocking. It soothed her for a moment until she was hit with a memory of her own mother doing exactly this. Every painful moment she'd ever felt was washed to the surface by her tears.
She felt it all. The pain of her childhood friend as he lost consciousness from one adolescent kiss. The gut wrenching words of hatred her own father spat when he realized what she truly was. Her mother's tears as she was forced from her own home. The fear she felt as she hitchhiked her way up north, getting into cars with men whose intentions were far from decent. The unbelievable pain of Magneto's machine as it sucked the life from her body. The self-hatred of waking up knowing she'd stolen a tiny bit of life that wasn't hers to take. The feeling of her own heart being torn from its precarious position as she watched the only person she'd ever trusted walk away with barely even a goodbye. The two and a half years of unending self-torture she knew she deserved. She saw her own blood, saw the faces of the people she'd hurt, saw the upheaval she'd caused for the people she still considered family, the wedge she caused between Jean and Scott, Bobby's broken heart.
It all came flooding back to her and she sobbed for it all until there were no more tears to cry and all she could do was shiver in Logan's arms and try to regain her breath. Concentrating solely on breathing, she didn't realize she was laying down now, spooned in Logan's more than capable arms as he stroked her hair away from her face.
As she grew quiet, Logan was almost sure it was over, at least for now. "It's okay now kid, just breathe before you hyperventilate." She seemed to follow his instructions, her breathing leveling off somewhere close to normal. Pulling her closer to him, he nestled his chin into the crook of her neck where the hood of her sweater lay. "I'm here for you."
The words were simple enough but they clicked something on inside Rogue because she stiffened in his arms. Moving onto his elbow, he rolled her over and stared down into her eyes. Albeit swollen they were still shockingly gorgeous.
"What?" The question flowed from his mouth as if it were an endearment and if she weren't so depleted, Rogue would have been shocked at the gentleness he was exuding.
Remaining silent, she simply shook her head and rolled back over. Snuggling deeper into the pillow, she fought off the fears of abandonment that were slowly creeping up on her. For some reason she couldn't accept his words for truth, not after the last time. Settling for the moment she was being graced with right now, she stifled a moan when his arm linked around hers. She wrapped herself up in him, using him like a blanket. As one, the two figures moved until they were entwined intimately, legs and arms draped across the other. With his head resting above hers on the pillow, she nestled hers under his chin. Neither moved that night save for one astute thumb that belonged to Logan. It brushed lightly over the back of her gloved hand the whole night, even as the two slept it continued, never relenting from his designed path.