Part II: Wherein Scott Reveals a Secret and Logan Visits the Library and Goes Shopping
In the flickering light from Scooby-Doo, Scott watched his fellow insomniac from behind a raised spoon. He was unnaturally silent and withdrawn, his first beer half-drunk and forgotten in his hand.
"You really care about her, don't you?" he said finally.
"Yeah," he was quiet for a long moment. "She's. . . got spunk. She stowed away in my truck, you know, she stopped me from getting stabbed," he sighed. "I don't want her alone or hurt."
"You want to protect her."
A nod. "I never felt like this," as though unconscious of the action, he begun stroking and cracking his knuckles. "I know that she's got the stuff, but. . ."
"Sounds like you love her," Scott said in a deliberate light tone.
"No!" he exploded. "She's . . . I don't know how much younger, but - "
"There's more than one kind of love." There was a long silence. Then Scott spoke. "Her parents are disowning her, you know."
"What?!"
"I heard the Professor on the phone with them," Scott said, taking another bite of ice cream. "They're freaked out by the 'mutant terrorism' that's been happening." He sighed. "They're conservative, small town people. They don't want anything to do with her."
Logan tried to squash the rising emotions. It was a fight to keep his claws sheathed. Scott must have seen that, because he continued hurriedly, "The Professor's thinking of making her a ward of the school when the legal precedings are finished."
"When was this?" His voice growled with emotion.
"Last week. Professor X will start the process two weeks from now."
"Does she know?"
Scott shook his head. "No. Not yet. He wasn't going to tell her until after she has been confirmed as a ward of the school."
"What?" he surged to his feet. "He's not even giving her a choice!"
"What choice is there?" Scott asked, his mind working as it leapt from conclusion to conclusion.
"I'll give her a choice," Logan growled in a dangerous voice and stormed from the room.
In the glow from the TV, Scott grinned to himself.
***
"Where are you off to," Storm called as Logan breezed through the entranceway, swinging on his coat as he went.
"Library," he replied shortly before slamming the door behind him.
Storm blinked a few times, the shook her head. "Now there's a mental image you don't get every day," she muttered to herself.
***
"Professor!"
"Logan, good afternoon," he said levelly. "You've come about Rogue." At Logan's expression, he raised an eyebrow. "I'm psychic, remember?"
"I heard that her parents were abandoning her."
"That is correct."
"And that you're going to adopt her as a ward of the school."
"Yes."
"And you were going to tell her. . . when?"
"Ah," the Professor steepled his fingers. "Rogue does not need to know before - "
"Doesn't need to know?!" Logan exploded. "It's her life! Give her a chance to see her parents, talk to them. Give her a choice."
"What choices does she have?" he asked, knowing full well what the volatile Wolverine had in mind.
For the first time, Logan looked almost uncomfortable. Then he raised his chin, clenched his fists, and said in a growl, "I would adopt her."
"You? You would hardly make a suitable guardian," he grinned internally. He knew Logan had the answers and Xavier wanted to see how far he would carry this. "And I'm positive the courts would reject you summarily when you applied."
"If I had an endorsement from her parents, there would at least be an investigation into my 'suitability'." He said the last word with distaste. "I want to give Rogue that choice."
Professor X gave him a long, searching look. "I couldn't stop you if I wanted to, but I agree with you." He sighed. "I hadn't planned on telling Rogue this now, but I see that wouldn't be fair to her. Let her know." He turned his chair so he could see the window. "Take her to see her parents. Get your endorsement. I will officially 'hire' you as a handyman to give you a credible job."
"Thank you, Professor." Logan breathed a silent sigh of relief as he left the study. He glanced at the clock in the front hall. Classes were over and he wanted to tell her as soon as possible. He ran over in his mind what he was going to tell her. He hated to break Rogue's heart like this, but she would have to know. He. . . loved her too much to deny her that.
A quick scan of the courtyard revealed Rogue's non-presence outside. He walked around the outside of the building, hoping to see her: nothing. He briefly checked the common room and the kitchen, without result. Her roommate informed him that she hadn't been back after class. So Wolverine found himself in the almost empty boy's hall. He padded down the hall, muttering the name to himself as he went. "Kidd. . . Munroe. . . Castilla. . . Drake." He paused a moment, took a deep breath, and knocked. There was the thump of feet hitting the floor and a moment later, Bobby opened the door just wide enough to frame his face.
"Oh, Wolverine, hey." He opened the door all the way to show a pile of books and papers by and on the bed that Rogue was stretched out on. She looked up and scrambled to her feet, scattering papers.
"Logan! Hey, sorry about - "
He raised a hand. "Don't worry, I won't blow the whistle on you. Can I come in?" Bobby stepped back and Logan stepped past him. "Rogue, I. . . have something to tell you."
The curious expression on her face almost broke his heart. "What is it?"
He glanced at Bobby. "I don't know if you would want. . ."
"It's cool," he said. "I'll go. . . get a drink, or something." Rogue gave him a small smile as he slipped out, but her mind was racing, thinking and discarding theories wildly. Not one came near the truth.
Logan felt uncomfortable. His way of dealing with things ran more to "Hack. Slash. Destroy." So he took a breath and told her.
"Your parents called the Professor. They. . ." he swallowed. "They've decided to disown you."
She blinked. She sat down hard. She blinked some more. "Oh my god." She said. Tears stood in her eyes. She looked up at him with shining eyes. "Why? Because I'm. . ."
The lump in his throat kept him from answering, so he just nodded. She buried her head in her hands and Logan's heart broke a little more. He didn't know what to do, so he just sat down beside her and patted her awkwardly on the back.
"The Professor said he would adopt you as a ward of the school," he said after a moment. "But. . . you have another choice."
"What?" It came muffled and wet.
"I. . ." he swallowed. "I said before I'd take care of you. I would like to adopt you instead of the school."
With a muffled wail, Rogue turned and gave him a close hug. He returned it awkwardly, careful to avoid skin contact. She let go a moment later and sat back. She looked up at him with a small smile. "I'd like that," she said with a sniffle. "A lot."
This hug was easier. Just as they were pulling away, there was a tap at the door, and Bobby pushed it open. "Can I come in?" he said, pausing at the door.
"Yeah," Rogue said.
Bobby practically teleported to her side. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He shot a glare at Logan; who stepped back with a 'not me' gesture.
"My *sniffle* parents have decided that have a mutant daughter is not their goal in life and have decided to cut me loose," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Logan is adopting me."
Bobby looked at Rogue. Then he looked at Logan. He glanced between them a few times. "Whoa."
"I'm going to try," Logan clarified. "First I need to get a recommendation from your parents before I apply to adopt you. Then I have to convince social services that I'll make a suitable guardian."
"You have to talk to my parents?" Rogue squeaked.
"I have to. Professor X gave both of us permission to go visit them as soon as possible."
"Looking like that?" The words escaped before she could clamp them down.
He opened his mouth to protest, but then took a look at himself like a conservative, small town parent, and he twisted his mouth wryly. White tank top, huge belt buckle, faded and ripped blue jeans. . . no. "I guess not."
"When are we going to leave?" She asked, unconsciously wrapping Bobby's hand around her own.
"Tomorrow. Around 8. We should get there sometime in the afternoon, from what little you told me."
She looked down. "I'll write out some directions. How long are we going?"
"As long as you want," he said. He paused. "We don't have to go."
She shook her head. "No. We do." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can handle it. We can get my stuff, too."
"Alright." Fatherly shoulder squeeze. "Hey kid, can you trust me to spiff myself up, or do you want to come?"
"Bobby. . ."
"Him too."
There was a long, unheard conversation. "Sure," Rogue said at last. "We'll go."
***
Logan pounded down the stairs. He grabbed his coat and waited by the main doors for Bobby and Rogue. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, taking advantage of the quiet moment to indulge in a bit of weakness.
"Heads up!"
Reflexively, his hand came up and caught something he briefly recognized as a leather wallet, followed by a set of keys. He looked up to see Scott jogging across the entrance hall. He grunted an acknowledgement and investigated the wallet. It was plain dark leather, cracked and bent from being relegated to a back pocket. He briefly thumbed through the contents: a handful of bills, about $50 in all, a blue Canadian fiver, some assorted credit cards, a driver's license apparently belonging to him, and an American citizenship card, also belonging to him. The keys were a jumble of regular keys with a lizard key chain.
"What's this?"
"The professor said to give them to you. The plastic is a school account. Don't worry about it. The rest is just pocket change," he said easily.
"This?" he held up the license. Scott shrugged.
"I just deliver 'em." He pointed at the other hand. "The keys are to the navy blue Landrover and the rest might have some purpose, but we don't know." He held out a communicator. "Don't forget this."
Logan took it, eyebrows raised. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow, you know."
He shrugged again. "Better safe than sorry."
Bobby and Rogue made their appearance and started across the hall. "Guess I'll see ya later, then," Scott said, turning away.
"Hey," Logan called, but forgot what he was saying when Scott turned back to look. "Thanks," he settled for gruffly. Scott looked briefly puzzled but nodded before turning away.
Logan didn't like conflicting emotions.
***
As soon as Logan stepped through the sliding doors of the local department store, he was eminently glad that Bobby was with him. Logan didn't much like crowded places. Especially when said place was full of women. Rogue went directly into shopping-woman mode and Logan and Bobby drifted helplessly in her wake. In a very short period of time, she somehow amassed a huge pile of clothes of all shapes and colours, while the boys watched in slack-jawed amazement.
"If you give a girl a charge card. . ." Bobby muttered to Logan, who gave a brief grunt of laughter in reply.
"I heard that." Came a voice from the depths of the racks.
Bobby leaned closer. "Thanks. She's taking the whole parent thing pretty hard, but. . . you're helping."
"Okay, I'm done," Rogue announced, setting one final shirt on top of the already heaping pile. Logan eyed it.
"You expect me to buy all this?"
"'Course not." She folded her arms. "You have to try it on."
If he had been any other man, he would have groaned.
***
"I feel like a clown," he growled, as he slammed open the change room door for the umpteenth time.
"You don't look like one," she said appreciatively.
"Don't start with me, kid," he growled jamming a finger in her direction.
"You look good! Go! Change!"
As the door slammed shut again, she thought she caught muttered, well, either regrets or death threats.
At last, the ordeal was over, and Logan had never been so glad to have his clothes back. They, or rather Rogue, had settled on one pair of black pants, a new pair of dark jeans and one of khakis, along with a collection of semi-nice casual shirts in grey, blue, and dark green. She had decided to let him keep his boots, but a new belt and, to his chagrin, a razor had been added. When he had protested, she had given him a level look and said, "You look like you haven't shaved in months."
"I haven't!"
"Which is one of the reasons you look like a bushman." The look became a glare. "Which is not a good thing in my parent's eyes."
Damn women and their last words.
They neared the checkout slowly. Logan wasn't a patient person, and waiting in line amidst a sea of chattering women was one of the many things that tried it. When he finally reached the cashier, he shoved the pile of clothes at the flustered young woman. The cashier looked up, gave a hurried smile, and said, "It's so nice to see a man taking his daughter shopping these days."
Logan didn't know whether to be complimented or offended.
***
Scott was waiting for them. His face split in an all-too-rare smile as Logan stomped up the steps, laden with shopping bags.
"One word, you myopic sadist, and I'll. . ." Logan growled with his best 'Don't Bug Me Now' glare.
"I said nothing!" Scott protested, laughter bubbling through his voice.
"You were going to."
All he got in reply was a snicker.
***
The next morning, early, Wolverine prowled silently through the entranceway, duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
"Sleep alright?"
He almost jumped. "Christ, Scott, how do you do that?"
Scott shrugged. "Practice. Jean slept light."
"I was making arrangements. I wanted to get away before everyone was up. Rogue should be down in a minute."
Scott regarded him levelly for a long moment. "Why are you doing this?" he asked finally.
"Because I promised her that we would look after each other," Logan replied after a moment's thought.
"Do you always keep your promises?"
"Yeah."
"Will you make me one?"
Logan looked at him sharply, quizzically.
"Promise me you'll come back."
Another long, full silence.
"I promise," Logan said, and knew that he was promising more than a return journey.
The moment was broken by a pyjama-clad Bobby staggering down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. "Am I late?" he yawned.
"Nope," Logan replied, surprised. "I didn't know you would be up."
This was confirmed by Rogue's surprised "Bobby!" as she took the stairs two at a time, a duffel banging the back of her knees. They caught each other in a breathless hug and quick kiss. "We said goodbye last night!"
"I couldn't resist," Bobby murmured.
"Mmm, you're too good to me," Rogue replied. Another quick kiss.
"C'mon, kid, let's get going," Logan said gruffly.
"Okay." She turned to look back to Bobby. "I'll see you in a few days, alright?"
"Miss you already." One more kiss, and Rogue was out the door. Logan's good-byes were much shorter.
"See ya."
"Bye," from Bobby.
"Good luck," Scott nodded in Manly Comfort and Approval™ Mode.
As the sky turned rosy and the streetlights began putting themselves out as the Landrover passed them, Rogue dozed and Wolverine drove. When the sun was well up, they stopped for coffee and breakfast donuts (ah, to be out of Storm's path), with Logan muttering to himself about the lack of something called 'Tim's'. When they were back on the road, they drove in silence for a couple of hours, a comfortable silence this time. Rogue spent the time concentrating on the reading Storm had given her for the trip, an old English novel 'The Portrait of Dorian Gray". Logan glanced over occasionally, not worried and assuming the frown was one of concentration, until he noticed she hadn't turned the page in almost half an hour.
"Hey, kid, what's wrong?"
Silence.
"Worried about your folks?"
"Yeah." Rogue sighed. "What if. . . what if they don't want to see us?"
That possibility had never occurred to him. "They will," he said with confidence he didn't feel. "They won't deny you at any rate."
Small sound of assent.
"Don't worry." He glanced over at her. "No matter what happens, I won't leave you."
"That chalks it up to one," she said, a bit sadly.
Logan let the silence linger a little longer, before saying, "I've made reservations at a motel. We'll head there first. Did you want to call them before, or just drop in?"
"Call." Decisive nod. "It would be the courteous thing to do."
"Fine." More silence.
"I'm not much of an actor," he said finally. "But you may as well tell me what we're getting ourselves into once we get there."
"Well, my parents. . ." Rogue spent the rest of the time by the time they stopped for lunch talking about her parents and her life before her ability came out. Logan felt a pang of – jealousy? regret? – when she spoke of Christmas traditions and family campouts. He was almost glad when they pulled into the motel at around 4 p.m.
He checked in without fuss, and Rogue sat down immediately to call her parents. Logan listened to the conversation as he scoped out the room and checked in with the school.
Rogue took a deep breath and dialed her home number. On the third ring, a woman's voice answered pleasantly, "Hello?"
Deep breath. "Hi, Mom. It's me, Marie."
Silence. Then, in a forced cheer, "Hello, honey. We haven't heard from you in simply ages. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine, really." Breathe, Rogue, breathe! "I heard about the abandonment."
"Honey - "
"We need to talk about it."
"What is there to talk about?" All warmth was gone. "Your professor assured us that you would be taken care of." In the background, Rogue could hear her father asking who it was. Her mother called back, "No-one!" She came back and hissed, "Leave us alone!"
"Marie?" Her father picked up.
"Daddy?"
"Mark!" her mother sounded furious. "Get off the phone!"
"Where are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Daddy," she felt tears well up in her eyes. "I'm in town. I - "
"You're here? You have to come over for supper - "
"Mark!"
"Get off the line, Beth." A hint of steel in his voice. There was a click, and she was alone with her father. "Sorry, darling. Your mother's not herself. Please do come."
"We were planning on dropping by, anyway." Deep breath. Get it out. "Daddy, we need to talk about my adoption."
"I thought that you were being made a ward of that school of yours."
Rogue glanced at Logan. "Well. . . there's another possibility. It'll be easier to explain face-to-face."
"Of course honey," her father's voice had no forced anything in it. She began to feel at least one of her parents hadn't given up on their mutant daughter. "Is it just you?"
"Uh, no. . . there's someone else who came with me."
"Bring them too!" he father moved away from the phone for a moment. "I was going to start supper at about at about 5:30."
"We'll be there at 5."
"Alright, honey. Love you."
"Love you too. Bye."
"Bye." *click*
Rogue set the phone back in the cradle slowly. "Kid?" Logan asked uncertainly.
"It's fine." She said, abstractedly. "I'll go get cleaned up."
Logan sat and fiddled with his thumbs, listening to the water run for five minutes and shut off. 10 minutes later, Rogue came out, still looking a bit dazed, with wet straggly hair dampening the shoulders of her favourite shirt. Logan took a slightly longer shower, and pulled on the new black pants that Rogue had picked. Then, he stood in front of the mirror and put razor to cheek. Well, shaving cream to cheek, and. . . you get the picture. It was over quickly, mainly because he didn't have to worry about nicking himself. When the last of the shaving cream had been towelled off, he looked at his reflection and winced. He ran a hand along the now-clean-shaven cheek. He shuddered. The things we do for love. . . he thought miserably.
He walked out of the bathroom to find Rogue just pulling her dry and brushed hair into a high ponytail. She turned and gaped. He folded his arms and scowled. She raised a hand to her mouth as if to mask a giggle and his scowl deepened.
"You look. . . good," she finally managed to choke out.
"It's because of you, kid," he growled, stomping over to his duffel and pulling out the blue shirt. Rogue pulled on her gloves and came over to fix him up. Logan caught a glance of himself in the mirror and had to perform a massive mental frameshift. The clean, well-groomed and dressed stranger in the mirror gazed back at him.
"Wow," Rogue said, stepping back to take a better look. "You look totally non-threatening." She caught an eyeful of his glower. "In a completely threatening way," she amended hurriedly.
"Nice try, kid," he growled, grabbing his coat. "Let's go. Wouldn't do to be late."
Rogue was quiet as they drove, only speaking to give him directions. Logan realized that it must be strange, to drive through your unchanged neighbourhood when you've changed so much yourself. She must have read his mind, because she heaved a sigh and leaned her head against the window, saying, "I can't believe it's been a year. . . only a year. . ." She gazed at a little park as they passed, the flock of kids ignoring the car. "They took out the fun-go-round," she murmured. "Turn left at the stop sign."
He turned onto a quiet residential sheet of cookie-cutter houses with neat front lawns and one tiny tree per house. She directed him to one of them, with a light blue garage and a splatter flowers around the tree and in an orderly box along the side of the house. Logan checked the clock as he put it into park, which flashed 4:56. He looked over at Rogue. "Ready to go, kid?"
Deep breath. "Yeah." Her brain seemed to have shut down. Unhook seatbelt, open door, watch the drop. . . walk up the sidewalk. . . ring doorbell. . . listen for footsteps.
To be continued . . .
