Disclaimer: Mine! Mine! All mine! ... Okay, maybe not... ;)

A/N: It's been a while... a really long while. I have no excuse whatsoever, but I blame everything nevertheless on real life. And the plot bunnies (Everything is their fault anyway...)

I really missed writing, and I hope I get more opportunities to do it. Hopefully. Plot bunnies willing... ;)

CHAPTER 9
Crash and Burn

"Are you sure about this, Sam?" Paige Guthrie whispered to her older brother as they approached the side entrance of the building. "Ah mean, we don' even know these people. What if they're like...?"

Her question trailed off, but Sam knew exactly what she was thinking. The rest of their family had been murdered at the hands of a notorious loan shark and his gang. It wasn't easy for them to trust anyone anymore.

"Ah think it'll be okay, Paige. Ah got this feelin' about Mr. Logan. He's one o' the good guys." He raised a hand to press the security button on the side of the large steel door they had stopped in front of. It let out a sharp buzz.

A few moments later, a voice answered, "Yeah?"

"Mr. Logan? It's Sam Guthrie."

"Hey, kid. Jus' a sec, I'll buzz you in."

They heard the distinct click of the door unlocking, and Sam reached forward to pull it open for them.

"This ain't definite yet, right, Sam?" asked Paige as they stepped over the threshold. "We can still say no if Ah don' like it here?"

"Ah told Mr. Logan Ah would run it by you first. If you ain't comfo'table here, we don' have ta stay. Ah jus' think we should consider his offer, is all. Our apartment on Fisher Street ain't exactly the best place ta live fo' a kid like you."

Paige crossed her arms over her chest. "Sam, Ah hate it when you talk like that. Ah ain't a kid anymore, an' you know it!"

"That's tellin' him, darlin'," Logan smirked as he turned a corner to greet them in the foyer. "Don' hold anythin' back."

Sam straightened and threw an apologetic look at the older man. "Ah'm sorry about that, sir. Our momma would have a heart attack if she heard 'bout us fightin' in someone else's house." He cleared his throat. "This is my sister Paige. Paige, this is mah boss, Mr. Logan."

An eyebrow quirked at the 'mister' part added to his name. "Jus' Logan is fine, kid." He stretched out his hand toward Paige. "Nice ta meet you, darlin'."

Paige accepted his handshake. "Thank you fo' invitin' us, sir. It's very kind o' you," she said politely.

"No sweat. C'mon, I'll give you the tour." Logan turned and walked out of the foyer. "Off ta the left here is the kitchen. Feel free ta grab anythin' outta the fridge. 'Ro usually keeps it stocked pretty well." He pointed to a door at the farthest end of the hall. "That leads inta the bar. Shortcut fer you when you've got a fight."

Sam nodded as they followed him through the rest of the house.

Logan gestured to two closed doors nearest to the bar entrance. "The first room there is the office. Second is mine an' 'Ro's room." He continued down the opposite hall, pointing as they went. "Livin' room on the right, bathroom next ta it." With each room mentioned, Logan would stop for a few seconds so they could peak in. "We've got two guestrooms, but one's bein' used at the moment by Forge. Sam's got the other one, so 'Ro converted the family room inta a room fer Paige. She figured you'd want the one next ta the bathroom." He turned to Sam and shrugged. "Somethin' 'bout women stuff."

Paige took a tentative step toward the open doorway that Logan said was her room. Bright sunshine forced its way in from the only light source present, a large overhead skylight. The walls were a soft blue-green color that matched the sofa set pushed to the far corner. A simple twin-sized bed had been placed in the opposite corner, and although it looked out of place with the rest of the room's décor, it was infinitely better than the beaten-down mattress she had in their apartment.

"It's pretty," she said, turning back to their host.

A grunt escaped Logan's lips before he motioned to the last room at the end of the hall. "That there's my kid sister's room. She's got her own place downtown, but we keep it fer when she wants ta crash." He stepped over and opened the door. Almost immediately he took a step back, waving a hand in front of his face and nearly doubling over from the scent that assaulted his senses.

Paige took a tentative whiff. "It's jasmine," she stated, smiling slightly. "It smells nice."

"Yeah well, try sniffin' that stuff when you've got a hyper-sensitive sense o' smell, darlin'."

"Perhaps you shouldn't open doors without knocking then," a firm, cultured voice scolded from behind them. Ororo stood with her hands on her hips and a disapproving look washing over her features. Logan could tell, however, from the twinkle dancing in her eyes that she didn't mean it... much. "If Rogue had been home, no doubt the two of you would be going for each other's throats again."

Logan smirked. "Prob'ly. 'Ro, this is Sam an' his sister Paige."

Ororo smiled welcomingly at the siblings, before turning back to Logan. "Remy is on the phone. He says he couldn't get through to your cell phone."

"Makes me wonder if Gumbo even knows how ta use a cell phone. Unless he's speed-diallin' one o' his broads, he's at a loss. 'Scuse me."

When Logan had disappeared down the hall, Ororo gestured to the newly converted family room. "I see Logan's shown you your room, Paige. I apologize for the lack of windows. This was originally a warehouse, and then an office building. It was never supposed to be a residence."

"No, it's great," Sam interjected. "You have a lovely home."

Ororo smiled. Then, noticing their lack of luggage, she inquired, "Will you be staying with us, then?"

Sam threw a questioning look at Paige, who took another look at her new bedroom. It really was pretty. She hoped that their instincts about these people were correct.

"Yes, thank you. Ah think we will stay."

- oOo -

Remy slid into the chair across from Logan at the bar's back table. It had taken him a little longer than usual to return, at Logan's request. He had made a stop at Peter's apartment, but found that both Rogue and the other man were not there. He was still convincing himself that was a good thing, but for some reason, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it wasn't.

He took a drag from his cigarette before speaking. "Looks like you were right, mon ami. Creed's got somet'in' goin' on."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "An' none o' yer sources could've told you what exactly that somethin' is?"

"Got a couple o' 'em checkin' it out now. From de sounds o' t'ings, it doesn't have anyt'in' t' do wit' de fights he's got lined up at his bar."

That was definitely something that peaked Logan's interest. Both he and Creed had established their respective fighting rings within a few months of each other. A natural sense of competition erupted as a result, as well as a none-too-friendly rivalry between the two owners.

"You sayin' Creed's workin' somethin' other than competin' with us?"

"One o' de sources is tellin' me dat he's dealin'."

"Drugs?"

"Drugs, guns, women... My bet would be all o' de above."

"That ain't somethin' we're gettin' inta, Gumbo. We ain't competitin' that way."

Remy shook his head. "Non, I know. But pretty soon, Creed's gon' have a one-stop play shop downtown. He's gon' be like Walmart 'fore ya know it."

The Cajun had a point. Grabbing his beer bottle by the neck, Logan took a hefty swig. Creed always did play dirty, but this was an all-new level. If he had gambling, booze, narcotics, arms, and prostitution all under one roof, he'd draw most of their customers away.

"Damn you, Creed," Logan swore under his breath.

The sound of the back door opening caused both men to turn. Ororo smiled as she passed through the threshold and stepped into the bar.

"You are starting early this afternoon, I see," she said, coming to stand behind Logan and resting her hands on his shoulders. "Hello, Remy. I don't believe I've ever seen you awake before the sun sets."

Remy leaned back in his chair and smirked. "First time f'r ev'ryt'in', 'Ro."

Turning back to address Logan, she said, "Sam and Paige have agreed to stay with us. They went back to their apartment to collect their things. I will take the car and pick them up." She leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I will see you later."

"Sure thing, darlin'."

As she began to walk past him, Remy spoke up. "What, no kiss por moi, chèrie? I am beyond hurt."

"Feel free to try something, Remy, and you will be beyond dead." She smiled to show that she did not mean the words. "Goodbye, my incorrigible friend."

As soon as Ororo had left, Logan focused back on Remy. "We're gonna need some kind o' proof that Creed's gettin' his hands in some dirty shit. We can take it ta the cops, an' get Vic outta our hair fer a while."

This time it was Remy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Are you askin' me t' steal f'r you again, homme?"

"You got a problem with that, Gumbo?"

The younger man grinned. "Non, jus' wan' be clear."

- oOo -

"You're not even going to let me see?" Bobby demanded, as he rapidly surfed through the television channels. "Not even one tiny peak?"

"Again, th' words 'yeah' an' 'right' come ta mind."

"As in, 'Yeah right, sure, Bobby. Yoah mah bestest friend in th' whole world! O' course Ah'll let you see th' naked picture Ah jus' did. Ah need yoah opinion on it.'"

Rogue made a face at his impression of her southern accent. "A Scarlett O'Hara you will not make, Yankee."

"'Course not. I don't have the overflowing red dress and matching pumps to go with it. But just you wait until Bloomingdale's has a sale again."

Bobby caught a throw pillow square in the face.

"Be thankful Ah ain't suffocatin' you right this minute."

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

"An' slow down with all th' channel-hoppin'. Yoah gonna break mah TV."

"Am not." Bobby shifted his position on her couch. They had spent most of the day together catching up, and had eventually decided to crash at Rogue's apartment for what was originally a planned movie marathon. "It's not my fault you busted your laptop."

Another throw pillow found its way to his face. "Yoah th' one who broke it, Drake! Even a four-year-old knows yoah not s'pposed ta drop it!"

"The laptop was egging me to do it! It was taunting me!"

Rogue smirked. "Yes, Ah've heard that inanimate objects have a tendency ta do that."

"Yeah, well, you weren't there," he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "You were off no doubt admiring the drawing that you won't let me see."

"Ah was not." She reached over and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl set on top of the coffee table. "Ah don' even have it."

"Who does?" Bobby scoffed. "Remy?"

This time she slapped him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"Serves you right."

He rubbed the sore spot, and frowned slightly. "You still haven't told him you went through with it, have you?"

"How can Ah? Ah haven't talked ta him since this mornin'."

"Why don't you just call him?"

"An' say what? 'Hey, Remy, how's it goin'? Oh, by th' way, that thing you weren't all that keen on me doin'? Well, Ah went ahead an' did it anyway.'"

"'... and now another guy is jacking off to my centerfold.'"

She slapped him again on the arm. "Ya got a death wish or somethin'?"

"Or something." He grinned impishly, before his face fell solemn again. "Seriously though, Rogue, why did you do it if you knew that Remy wasn't comfortable with it?"

She sighed, and turned back to the late-night infomercial that Bobby had randomly landed on in his program search. "Ah don' know... It's not that Ah want ta pick a fight with him. Ah guess Ah don' like bein' told what ta do. This ain't th' fifties, an' Ah ain't his dutiful li'l woman."

"Well, we can get you a Donna Reed apron at the Bloomingdale's sale we're waiting for." He caught Rogue's eyes and hoped that the playful mischief in his own would catch on.

She threw yet another pillow at him, and smiled. "Yoah brain-dead, Drake." She stood and started to pull Bobby out of his seat. "Come on, let's go on a munchie run. Ah'm in th' mood fo' some ice cream."

"To lick off my naked body?" he asked, hopefully.

Rogue grabbed her keys and made her way to the door. "Ah'll strap yoah 'naked body' ta th' hood o' th' car if you don' get yoah rear in gear."

"Ooh, kinky..."

- oOo -

Logan stood and tried to knead out the kinks that had worked their way into his neck and shoulders. He had been strategizing with Remy for the past two hours, and had barely looked up in that time.

"How long before you think we can get everythin' we need?" he asked.

"'Bout a week or so, if we don' run inta any problems."

"Get the boys ta help you out, if you need it." Logan could tell that the other man was about to object. "I don' want ta hear it, Cajun. I know you think the sun rises an' falls by yer own ass, but even you could use a couple o' wingmen ev'ry now an' then. Speakin' o' which," he said, as he saw Frank making his way through the already crowding bar. "Hey, Frankie, yer jus' in time. I want you ta help Gumbo here with somethin'."

"Logan..."

He looked up, and for the first time he could see the worry that had settled in the raven-haired man's eyes. His senses instantly awoke and stood at alert.

"What is it?" he practically growled.

"There's been an accident..."