Moving On - Chapter 9

By Gimpy


The sun reflected off the tinted plastic shades protecting his eyes from its overbearing light. His cigar burned leisurely as it sat casually on his velvet lips. Every few moments his lips would tighten around the Cuban stogie as he drew another wave of smoke and let it swirl around his stoic face. Leaning against the glimmering black Mercedes, legs crossed, boots sparkling, muscular arms folded across his broad chest, his presence could not be ignored in the small suburban street. He stuck out amongst the quaint and ideal picture of upper middle class, his bored and angry scowl making it all the more evident.

Huffing out a large cloud of smoke, his covered gaze fell on the domestic and rather absurd restaurant. Scratching at his scruffy muttonchops, he mentally cursed Scott for leaving him stranded on the street, forced to wait for the more agreeable man to come back. After spending one of his most restless nights since the chaos had started stuck in the med lab, Logan's attitude had been less than pleasing. Every sound he made was grouchy and angered. He'd barked and cursed at every thing that had crossed his path from the small Asian spitfire whom he'd almost made cry, to the coffee that had gone cold in his forgotten mug. Scott had received the brunt of his anger and for the first time, Logan actually felt guilty.

This was hard for both of them, he knew that, but sometimes he forgot how much it affected the other man. Scott had already lost so much in his life, his family, his sight, and his first love. The man's life was riddled with loss and Logan supposed that made them kindred spirits. Aside from the last eighteen years, Logan didn't even have a life, at least not one he could remember, and the things he could he didn't want to. He was no stranger to loss, had spend the last eighteen years trying to regain a semblance of something stable. The failures were numerous but Logan had always believed that Rogue had been his one success. The young, vulnerable southern beauty meant something immeasurable to both of them. For Scott, it was renewal; Rogue had pulled him out of the dust of Jean's death and made him whole. For Logan, she was a ray of hope; a chance at being something greater than a bar hopping cage fighter.

Which brought him here—standing on the cleanest street he'd ever seen, waiting for Scott to come back. Most of the morning had been spent trailing the route the ominous box had taken. Phone calls had been made and in the end it had led them to this street and the small restaurant a block in front of him. Scott had gone in alone, refusing to allow Logan to follow, spouting something about his attitude being a little too abrupt. Honestly Logan knew he would have been less then amicable if not down right barbaric. Even so he wanted to be a part of this, wanted to be able to tell Rogue that he'd done everything he could to help her. The most helpful thing at this moment probably was to stay out of the way and let the calmer man deal with the people.

Resting heavily on the car behind him, he shifted his powerful legs, attempting to loosen the cramps that were forming.

"All right, thanks again." Scott's voice rolled out from the slightly vacant restaurant and Logan looked up. The pensive lines carved into the youthful man's face stood out to Logan and he wondered if he looked as weary and exhausted.

Extending a prominent hand, Scott grasped the other man's hand and sternly shook it. The taller man Logan assumed was the owner nodded his head then spoke, "No problem, come back whenever you want Officer, La Café Croix is always open for heroes such as yourself."

A burly brow lifted at the owner's words and Logan eyed Scott's back with mild amusement. The man's words didn't seem to faze Scott who simply waved a stiff goodbye and headed towards the sleek car. When he reached ear shot, Logan grumbled, "Officer?"

Scott's features remained blank, giving nothing away, but Logan knew him better. "What happened?"

"The package isn't theirs," Scott stated as if he were reading the Sunday special.

"What do you mean? This is the address, right?"

"Yeah," Scott droned then turned fully to Logan. "The box was sent from here but not from Rick, the owner, or one of his current employees. Apparently a man named Jerry uses this place as his permanent address for job applications and personal letters."

"So this is a dead end?" Logan spouted, the words rhetorical in every sense. "Great! That's just fucking great! Now what the hell do we do? Go back to the mansion and sit on our asses?"

"Logan," Scott drawled, a headache burrowing into his temples.

"What!" The word came out fiercer then he'd intended and once again Logan felt guilty. Dragging a heavy hand through his unkempt locks, he reiterated the word with a little less agitation. "What?"

"This guy, Jerry, is a regular here at the restaurant. He comes in once a week always on the same day and at the exact same time. He sits at the same table and orders the same thing. It's like clockwork or so the Rick says. Yesterday was his day but--"

Logan's patience had been worn through over the past few days and he couldn't help but interrupt the other man spewing, "How the hell does that help us? I am not going to wait a fuckin' week for this bastard to come back."

"Would you wait for me to finish!" Scott growled, shocking Logan into silence. "Thank you! … He missed yesterday, never came in, Rick told me that the last time it happened Jerry just switched the day, in other words he should be coming in today."

For the third time that day Logan felt guilt and he knew it was showing on his face. Bowing away he muttered, "How do we know it was him and that Rick isn't lying?"

Logan felt Scott shift as he shrugged somberly. "Rick showed me the notice slip Jerry got in the mail. Lucky for us, Jerry has obsessive-compulsive disorder and always sticks to routine, never checks his mail until his day to come in."

"So we wait?"

"Until Rick gives us the heads up."

All Logan could manage in return was a curt jerk of the head. Like a wolf stalking his prey, he eyed the restaurant, dead set on catching this game and making the kill, so to speak. Picking up a whiff of something uncomfortable from the man beside him, he resigned himself to speak. "What do you think all of this is for?"

The question shocked Scott who had been expecting a long standing and dwarfing silence from the more introverted man. "Revenge is all I can think."

Nodding more smoothly this time, Logan added, "Considering how many articles there are, she definitely has some enemies."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, adjusting his arms to cross his own chest. "It's hard to imagine that all of that was her."

A contrite snort flowed from Logan. "I'll say… there are reasons for it, I know there are and we just have to find her so she can explain it to us."

Eyeing his ally in all of this, suspicious of the desperation lingering in his words, Scott quipped, "Who you trying to convince?"

An earnest look befell Logan, hiding halfway behind his gleaming sunglasses. It quickly passed and he opened his mouth to bite out some quick retort. He was cut off when a stout and portly man entered his side vision.

There was nothing spectacular about the man, he was round and beefy, something not uncommon. Old and ratty clothes hung from his form, telling a tale of depravity and hardship and the more Logan watched, the more odd the man became to him. There was a waddle to each of his steps as if his legs were struggling to keep him balanced when he placed his weight on them. What struck him the most was the way he purposely wobbled his way over the cracks in the concrete sidewalk. He seamed almost frightened by their existence like they would mortally wound him if he placed even an inch of his foot on one.

"If that's not obsessive-compulsive I don't know what is," Logan muttered, glad to completely bypass the previous conversation.

Scott spotted Rick lingering near one of the expansive windows and was greeted with a subtle nod in stumpy's direction. Giving the owner a gesture of thanks, Logan and Scott pushed off the car and easily followed the plump man into the diner. Hanging back, they watched as Jerry wobbled his way over to a table.

Out of tradition, a need for order, the man circled the table, going all the way around before finally taking his seat. Strategically he unwrapped the diner's utensils from the white napkin, placing them in their rightful positions, his stubby fingers nudging them until they were perfect. Taking the napkin, he folded it in half and then folded that in half, he continued to fold it in halves eight more times before he slipped it into his pocket. Next came his coffee mug, which he turned right side up. With an ease that spoke of practice, he whirled the mug around three times, the porcelain never tilting or threatening to fall.

It was an understatement to even attempt calling this man compulsive.

Sharing a quick glance, both men advanced on the short man. Logan went right, Scott veered left and together their broad hands landed on the man's shoulders. He jumped, his balding head snapping from side to side, his pale gray eyes questioning.

"I-I-Is there something you guys want?" he stuttered out, his voice higher in pitch then you would have thought when looking at the ragged stubble covering his rounded cheeks.

"Wow Jer, that's a pretty loaded question considering we barely know each other," Logan drawled, his own forceful hold tightening, causing the short man to tense.

"How did you--" Jerry started at the sound of his name falling from Logan's lips.

"Oh I don't know, I think it's a fair question," Scott quickly retorted, staunching the words attempting to flow from Jerry's thin lips. "I myself don't really want all that much," he started, easing himself into the chair next to Jerry. "A fulfilling career as a teacher, maybe retire early after making a few good choices on the stock market, find myself a nice shack sitting on a beach and, God willing, live out the rest of my days with a beautiful woman by my side. What about you?" Scott flippantly asked Logan, who's hold had tightened even more on Jerry's plush shoulder when he tried to stand.

Keeping an air of being nonchalant, Logan spoke as if all three of them were long time friends who had simply gone out for coffee and some good conversation. "I like your plan. Just cancel the teaching career and the beach."

"The beach? Come on, how can you not like the beach?" Scott feigned a look of shock.

"I'm not much for the heat or water in general. I tend to sink," Logan replied, eyeing his muscular form.

"That makes sense. What about you Jerry? What do you want?"

"Yeah Jer, what do you want?" Logan echoed, adding a tad more pressure, just enough to make the flesh on his shoulder ache but not bruise. The rounded man squirmed and attempted to stand again. Logan shoved him back down, all the while carrying his best warm and caring look. "Come one Jer, we just want to get to know you."

"Yeah Jerry, don't hold out on us," Scott quipped.

"I don't… I don't want anything," he stammered and Logan could feel his pulse picking up, the raunchy scent of Jerry's fear threatened to smother Logan's sense of smell.

"Jerry, Jerry, Jerry," Scott shook his head, chastising the man as if he were a child. "You really shouldn't lie like that, it's hurtful." A look of betrayal and hurt made its way onto Scott's features and he managed to prevent his façade from faltering.

Jerry didn't know what to do or how to react so he just continued to glance between both men, his fear piercing his pale cloudy eyes.

"Everyone wants something Jer, we just want to know what you want." Logan eased.

"The… the beach sounds nice," he muttered, his voice cracking.

"Yeah, ya like the beach, don'tcha Jer?" Logan asked, subtly humoring and mocking the poor disheveled man.

"S-s-sure, the beach is okay," he hesitated, cautious of himself. "What is it you guys want from me?"

Scott leaned in a little, his warm exterior shifting to something menacing almost instantaneously, a feat that surprised even Logan. "The other day you sent a young woman a package in the mail," Scott started.

Sure signs of his guilt manifested at the mention of Rogue, his breathing becoming labored and his pulse picking up, pounding against Logan's fingers still digging into the man's flesh.

"That young woman is a dear friend of ours and she's missing. You are going to help us find her." Everything about Scott had changed, he wasn't mild mannered, he was barely even civil and Logan felt a pang of pride watching him.

"Look I don't, I don't know anything!" Jerry protested, keeping his voice low, not wanting to attract attention to himself. "It was left on my doorstep with instructions." Slowly easing himself down onto a vacant chair, Logan placed his weight heavily on the man's now tender shoulder. At the new wave of pain, Jerry piped up, "I swear!"

"You really shouldn't, Jerry. Swearing is a goddamn nasty habit," Scott retorted.

"And it's just fucking rude," Logan added, his words flowing almost in unison with his partner. "I don't like being lied to Jer, especially not when one of my closest friends is missing and might be in danger. I get mad when people lie to me." His grip tightened on the man, earning himself a sliver of a whimper. "You don't want me mad," he snarled, baring his teeth out of instinct more than anything.

"We're all friends here Jerry. Just tell us what really happened," Scott drawled, his gloved hand inching towards Jerry's perfectly placed utensils. "I might be able to keep him off of you." Another inch was swallowed whole and Jerry tensed. "Lie again and I can't be held responsible for what he might do." Within a centimeter from his metallic fork, Scott eyed the man. "To be honest I've never seen the guy lose a fight."

Logan snarled and Scott's hand jerked forward shattering the controlled world Jerry had created for himself. "Okay! Okay!" he cried, his vow of silence shattering. Desperately, he tried to rearrange his utensils while rambling off, "This guy, he cornered me one time when I was leaving the shelter over on 102nd. He shoved five hundred bucks in my face and all I had to do was send some chick a box. What was I supposed to do? Say no? I can barely make that in two weeks let alone one day."

Scott couldn't help but chuckle menacingly, "Only five hundred?" Flashing Logan a sneering grin, he quipped, "I think someone was played for a fool."

Shooting glances between Logan and Scoot, Jerry murmured, "You think I could have gotten more?"

"Oh yeah," Logan whispered sympathetically.

Jerry straightened, mulling everything over in his head. Taking a few moments, he turned to Scott. "Look I don't know much but I have this address the guy gave me. It's in Connecticut, I was supposed to give the girl a cell phone and then send it back to him. She broke the phone but you guys can have the address."

"See Jer," Logan spouted, letting go of the sore shoulder and slapping him hard on the chest. "What'd I tell yah, the truth just eases the conscience. Write it down," he ordered, grabbing a pen from his pocket and pulling a napkin from the metal holder. Jerry did as he asked, quickly jotting it down before relaxing.

"Thank you Jerry, you've been a great help." The sentiment was real this time and Scott patted the man on the back as he stood, his other hand grabbing the napkin.

"No problem," he smiled, happy that perhaps he'd just pulled one over on the man who'd robbed him of more money. Turning back to his fork, Jerry glared at it, then tentatively ushered it back into place.


"So, we off to Connecticut?" Logan questioned once they got closer to the car. Normally he didn't turn to Scott as the official leader, but lately he found himself doing it more and more. Why, he didn't know, except that he didn't trust his judgment, not when Rogue's safety was potentially hanging in the balance. His way was the brash, take no prisoners, kind and keeping a level head was never really possible when it came to the small woman he called a friend.

Keys in hand, Scott paused, his hand before the lock and truly thought it over. He wanted to rush in, guns blazing just as much as Logan, but he knew better. "I don't want to go in there blind, not if it means putting Marie in danger, if she's even there."

"So we go back to the mansion, do a little intel first, make sure we know what were walking into."

"Works for me."

A somber note devoured the high that had come with the new address. They were one step closer to discovering who was pulling the strings and yet something held them back from feeling the relief that came with it. The reason for everything was missing and so many questions still riddled them. Was she safe, had she held her own and gotten away? Had they even attempted to take her or just killed her? Was she dead? Was she a kidnap victim sitting in some dingy cellar or worse? There were so many doubts, countless uncertainties, numerous amounts of obstacles and the only thing that was certain was that they had a lead and they were going to follow it. Wherever it led, that's where they'd go, no matter how long it took, they'd never stop because when it came down to it, nothing else outside of Rogue mattered.

To be continued…


Author's Notes: This is me… this is me down on my knees thanking explicitly all who gave me reviews and all who still read but never give voice to their thoughts… can you tell the difference? My last year of High School just started so my writing is going to be taking a back burner for a while. Not to say I won't be writing, I will but only on weekends when I find the time. I love you all and I sincerely thank all who reviewed - you have no idea how much it means to a struggling writer such as myself.

-Gimpy-


RogueChere: Much love to you and you're reviews - As if I could ever forget them and their words. I'm a head case for the most part - as much as I try not to be it does happen. Thank you though for the acclamation and the reassurance - it was much needed and appreciated. This chapter started off with more banter between Scott and Logan but in the end it didn't fit - there are still moments and there will be more just bare with me as I try to set something up. A few big twists are on their way and it's something I've never really done. I just hope I can do it well enough to keep you posting your amazing reviews. Once again Much Love.

Dissolved Starr: Thank you Starr, it means a lot to me that you appreciate my writing. For awhile there I thought I was writing for myself but it's nice to know I have readers such as yourself. Hopefully because of the new school year I won't be making you wait too long for the chapters.

The Me (twice over): Chapter Seven - They're mutants - getting the police involved or anyone else for that matter would probably only lead to more trouble then needed. Thank you for saying you couldn't bare not reading my story - I promise to at least try not to disappoint. Chapter Eight - I figured you'd love Mystique this way - she's not all good but she's not all bad - she had a balance I guess you could say. LOL you are too cute you know that? Read this and enjoy - oh and say hi to the baby fish for me!

Holbeth: Do you have any idea how wonderful reading this was? It just made me feel so… I don't know loved? Appreciated? Well whatever it was it was nice and I thank you for that. As for calling me an artist… wow thank you for that.