Title: The Antihero
Summary: The slightest change can rewrite an entire lifetime.
Rating/Warnings: T (for tremendous?); average Logan-style fighting, nothing too big and a little bit of profanity too.
Authors' Notes:
Remy will show up again in either the next chapter or the one after that. Depending on how long I drag it on. –Alysa
Standard Disclaimer Applied.
Thanks to: bri419, RogueNya, Ace, bologna121, ChamberlinofMusic, Hawaiichick, gambitfan85, RomyLover, Dark, AshmandaLC, Skye Knightley and coup fatal. And Cecy for proofreading.
Chapter One:
To say that time seemed to drag on forever from train ride to train ride would be the understatement of the year. Time had, instead seemed to stop all at once.
The rides were bumpy, cold and uncomfortable. Marie wasn't sure how much longer she could take the overbearing crowds and little privacy. Though soon enough the decision was made for her. With not much money left, Marie was stuck at a train station, not even sure exactly where she was.
Though one thing was sure, wherever she was, it was freezing cold. Growing up a southern girl, Marie had been used to long summer days that seemed to go around all year long. Never once had she ever really needed a winter coat; heck, on Christmas day, all she really needed was a light sweater to make for the rest of the day.
So needless to say, the harsh cold wind that whipped at her checks the second she stepped out of the sheltering walls of the train station gave her a shock. Her face fully flushed, she took her first step in snow, the ice automatically melting into her tennis shoe and soaking up on the hem of her jeans.
Hair whipping around her, Marie took in the scenery around her. Where ever she was, it was a small town with a forest flooding around everywhere in the background.
There weren't many options on where to go next, practically none at all. Being a teen runaway wasn't exactly the most thought-out plan in the world. There was no way to predict where she would end up…or worse, what else she would end up doing to survive.
Determined not to let the worst of her situation slow her down, Marie continued walking around the small dirt road until she came upon a small bar. Chances were that they didn't serve much other than liquor, but Marie couldn't remember the last time she had eaten, a fact that her stomach wasn't letting her forget, and that was enough to convince herself to enter the old-broken down shack.
The bar didn't offer any heating and although her green hoodie felt heavy and wet on her shoulders, she resisted taking it off. The place was dark and overcrowded with large men that under any other scenario would have scared her to death, if it weren't for the fact that they all seemed distracted with a cage fight on the other side of the room.
Taking a seat away from prying eyes, Marie settled her duffle bag under her feet, careful to keep the straps locked in between her crossed feet. In this place, she wasn't taking any chances at getting robbed.
Finally after several minutes of distractions from the same fight that had most of his customers attentions, the middle-aged, burly bartender made his way to Marie's corner seat.
Obviously ignoring the fact that she was underage, he placed a small bowl of peanuts from under the counter and asked gruffly, "What'll it be?"
Marie instantly reached for a handful of nuts, shoving them into her mouth, ignoring their odd taste. "Water. I'll just take water." She paused then with an afterthought, added, "Please."
Snorting, the bartender muttered his back to her disgusted, "It'll be tap."
Placing a slightly dirty cup in front of her with strange-tinted water, Marie was once again alone.
And that was when reality really came crashing down on her. That pause in time was finally playing, and the past few days events came flooding in. Cody, her parents, her friends, running away, being a freak.
She was a freak. She had almost killed Cody- oh God, his condition wasn't getting any better from what she had seen…what if she really had killed Cody? What if right now they were burying his body?
She could picture the whole thing. The hot and humid weather would finally crack. The past few days in Mississippi had been cloudy and Marie bet that it was finally raining now. Her town had been long over-due for a rain storm.
Everyone would be wearing black, and the service would be open casket. All of Cody's family and friends would be there to pay their respects to the well-natured neighborhood boy who everyone had seen grow up.
Cody would have his Sunday best on and would have his finger laced together peacefully. When his mother, a woman Marie had once thought of as an aunt, would approach the coffin, her husband would have to grasp her shoulders and try his best to calm her down even while inside he was begging for release from his hell. Cody's mother would run her fingers through her little boy's hair lovingly, hating the coldness she felt on the skin on her finger pads. Oh, her little boy… Finally she would have to soak up her sobs as she would be dragged back to their seats by her husband, who was also unwilling to leave his son.
They would all be mourning over him while the local preacher would lead them into prayer and then give a small speech on how Cody was taking so unfairly at such a young age, how he was in a better place and how he would be greatly missed.
Marie's parents would be there too, secretly mourning the loss of their missing daughter. Feeling as horrible as Cody's parents the moment they discovered Marie's hospital bed unattended. Marie was sure they would be looking for her long and hard. Which is why she made sure to go up north as far as possible.
She didn't want her parents to find her. She didn't want them to know what she had done. She didn't want them to know that that she was a freak.
She didn't want them to think she was monster.
Near tears, Marie wiped at her eyes before they could spill. This was her fault, her decision, and she'd be damned before she broke down so quickly.
Taking a swing at her water, she blanched at the taste. She let out a small burp from the mixture of suspicious items she had consumed.
Taking in a deep breath, she leaned her head down on the counter, exhausted. She still had a long way to go and no way of knowing how she was going to get there, but for now, she would allow herself the luxury of a small rest. Somehow she was able to block out the loud crowd that seemed to go crazy with every hit taken, and soon enough, she found herself nodding off to sleep.
Waking up, Marie automatically knew that hours had passed. Maybe it was her groggily eyes that refused to unglue open or the soreness she felt in her muscles from sitting so stiffly for so long. She was sure that if she walked outside the sun would soon start to lower itself below the mountains in the far distance. She gave herself three hours tops before nightfall came.
Stretching, Marie's attention was drawn to two men, over at the other side of the bar. There seemed to be a disagreement between them and Marie couldn't help but sneak glances. Things were getting more rowdy between the two, and soon enough the man behind the bar took out a large rifle and was muttering quickly under his breath.
'Get out of there, Marie.' Someone in the back of her mind urged her to get out of there before things got too messy for her to handle, someone who soundly oddly enough, just like Cody. But her body fell stiff and she pushed the thought to back of her mind. She watched, dazed, as one second the man, the one with dog tags waving from his neck lazily, on the opposite side of the bar calmly stood up and the next, metal claws were drawn out of his knuckles, easily slicing the thick rifle in half.
The breath was knocked out of Marie. This man…this man, he was…he was different, like her. He was just like her.
The last time Logan had been in a place this cold had been last summer. Whether it was a lingering sentiment or just a kink, Logan hated warm places. He was more a winter person himself and liked the kick the cold weather gave to his lungs.
And even more perfect, the town he was passing through was small. Logan didn't particularly like crowds. They overloaded his senses, gave him a reason to twitch at every movement, making him resist the urge to act on instinct. Ever since he had woken up, there was always that little part in the corner of his mind that told him to put up his defensives, telling him to be aware of everything around him.
Walking into a dark pub, Logan was pleased to see a large wire-enclosed cage. Perfect; he could buy a beer and win some money while still in town. It seemed he was always low on cash, no matter how many odd jobs he caught up with here or there.
Logan made his round around the bar, raising bets around him. This was way too easy. Satisfied with his claim to automatic money, he was all set up in no time, drawing a crowd around the poorly-built excuse of a fighting ring.
Roars and cheers from the crowd blasted on and on, all encouraging either one man or the other to knock the other out. Knowing how the game went on, after years of experience, he knew the audience wanted their show. So he allowed a punch or two to from his opponent. There was a sharp pain from where his metal jaw had been dislocated, but he quickly got over it, as he had grown accustom to and snapped his chin back into place. The sickening crackle that went with it was ignored and sooner than normal, Logan was back in the fight.
Grabbing the bulky man by his shoulders, Logan flung him over to the thickly wired wall that separated the fighters from the audience. Hearing the man groan, Logan took it as his cue.
Turning the man over he didn't give him a standing chance to recover before his fist pounded into the other man rib-cage, satisfied when he picked up the faintest sound of a shifting bones. It wasn't something a normal human would have been able to pick up.
His opponent stumbled backwards and the crowds' hoots rang higher and higher.
Sweat gleaming off his forehead, Logan allowed his inhuman side take over for a second, packing in one more punch, and still kicking on the wounded man even after he was on the floor and down for the count.
The urges Logan had gotten to fight weren't too often, but even so, when moments like these came, he was content to know that there was some place he could vent out on and not draw attention.
Raw animalistic pulls were what got him into the fight, it was the simple human nature that begged him to slow down and keep everything cool.
After what seemed like hours later, Logan was able to collect up a suitable amount of money, or at least what would get him through the next couple of towns he would ever so restlessly hit. The day was almost over and outside clouds faded darker and darker.
Ready to pay off his tab from the pervious beers Logan had gulped down in between fights, he was approached by the first man he had taken a beating from in the cage.
The bulky man sneered; his eyes open to the disgust he felt. "No man takes beatings all day long and shows no marks for it." He remarked, leaning in too close for comfort.
Logan rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn around in his seat to get a good look. How many times had this happened to him? Over and over again it was, from all different types of bar or clubs. Fat, over-egoistic small-town hicks with nothing better to do but blame their rivals of cheating instead of taking their losing like the men they at first pretended to be.
Sure Logan knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his inhuman abilities gave him an unfair advantage, but what the hell, since when did he ever decide his life needed more morality in it?
"Just leave it alone, bub." He said loosely, taking another chug of cool beer. He needed to hit the road soon; he didn't have time for this. Besides, the beer in this joint wasn't that good anyways, but he still let it run down his throat for lack of a better offer.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you." The man grunted out at Logan, whose eyes where distracted at the cases of beers behind the counter, wondering if he could buy a few on-the-go.
When Logan felt a hand on his shoulder try to force him to turn around, primal instincts were instantly brought back to life from the subconscious part of his mind. He swiftly turned around and gripped the man by his collar and shoved him up a wall. "Listen here, I don't like people giving me trouble," he grinded. "So stay away from me and we won't have any problems."
A shifting bullet and locking of a rifle was heard from behind Logan. "And I don't want any trouble in my bar." The bartender wielding the gun stated. "Freaks aren't welcome here." Logan glanced over his shoulder, displeased at the large barrel pointed at his skull. Not that he couldn't heal from it, he was sure about that but that still didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch when the bullet would first penetrate through his tender flesh and then clash against his metal bone.
Logan growled, a thing he had oddly grown accustom to after many years of animalistic defense building up pressure in his mind and body.
Slowly he extracted his metal claws. One pointed at the hick in front of him, and the other at the bartender. He sliced through the rifle without a second thought, the metal arm falling to the floor in a clutter. The bartender took a step back, suddenly defenseless.
Glaring at the bartender, he retracted his claws, drawing out, "Freaks aren't always the ones who are the problem." Glancing at the man up against the wall, he let loose of his fist and picked up his jacket from his bar stool with the intent of leaving the bar and on second thought, took his half-finished beer along with him.
Maybe it was her sad, pitiful voice whining from behind him or maybe it was that her long dark hair reminded of a person who only came back to haunt him in his dreams, who knows. All Logan knows is that one second he was driving away from her, content with kicking off his unwanted trespasser to the side of the road and then next he was shifting his SUV into reverse, and slowing down so that she could climb into the passenger seat.
His fingers are desperately itching to pull out a cigar and light it up, but he'd run out already and his deprived lungs were killing him.
"What's your name kid?" he asked.
"Rogue." She hadn't known why she said this, but the second it came spilling out of her mouth, she decided that she liked the name, and it was here to stay.
Logan snorted. "Rogue?" he repeated. "What? Were your parents sadists?"
Marie promptly ignored the question. "And what's your name?"
"Wolverine." A grin almost made it to his face at the sound of the idiotic name. It really held no special meaning behind it.
"What kind of name is Wolverine?"
He thought maybe this was her way of getting back at him for making fun of her name, so he humored her, "Logan."
She was silent for a moment, contemplating, and then finally bartered back with, "Marie."
"And what was someone as young as you doing in a bar like that all alone?" he was treading into unmarked waters, and Logan of all people knew what it was like to hold a secret or two and the importance of privacy, but, fuck, if he was to be carrying her around with him for the moment he figured he at least held the right to know a thing or two about her background.
Marie knew she shouldn't be so open about her past, but maybe it was the fact that he was a freak like her that lead to the slow riding slip of tongue. "I ran away."
He grunted in response but didn't press on.
She continued on her own accord. "I think I killed someone." The sentence sounded odd coming from her own mouth. It was her voice, raspy from the harsh weather, that sounded weird to her too.
At this, she drew a reaction from Logan. "I ain't gonna drive you from place to place so you can go on a killing spree, kid." His fingers gripped harder on the steering wheel.
"It's not like that." she chided. Her voice dropped to a whisper and her voice choked up. "It was an accident." It was still her fault; her conscious made sure to remind her of that.
"If it was an accident, then why'd ya run away?"
"Because I'm a freak." She continued with strain. She sank into her seat, pulling her hoodie tighter around her, still not used to the cold that drifted from the outside. She rubbed her hands together, hoping to create friction through her gloves.
"What did you do?" the question was extremely personal and uncalled for.
But she answered it anyways. "I'm not exactly sure." She paused, "But…it had something to do with my skin…"
Logan snorted again. "Skin? Really kid?"
"Something bad happens when I have skin-to-skin contact with someone."
This peak up his interest. "Something bad?" he made the silent urge for her to continue.
"I hurt them." This second reality splash really wasn't something she wanted to deal with right then and there. "It's like I'm drawing their life, or energy, or whatever, into myself. It's like I'm sucking the life right out of them." Horrid memories of realization from the hospital were ruthlessly flashing through her head. "It only happens when I touch them though…" she repeated, if only to reassure herself. She didn't know the extent of her curse and had no clue if this was only where her nightmare started.
Logan remained silent. "It wasn't your fault then." And he wondered if what he had done in that island all that time ago hadn't been his fault too.
"I don't think that's something anyone else but you would say." He probably had to agree with her on that. "That's why I can't go home."
And maybe it was sympathy or maybe it was that he was so lonely, but later, when night fell, and he was finally too tired to drive, he slept in the front seat, allowing her the small cot in his filthy trailer instead of dumping her at the nearest gas station like he had originally intended to do.
Extra Note: For those of you who so kindly plan on reviewing, please tell me, other than the obvious Rogue and Remy pairing, what other couples/friendships would you like to see in here? It's all up for grabs until the next chapter is completely written. All suggestions welcome. Also, would you guys like a more detailed summary, so you can get a sense of where this story is going? Let me know, because after this chapter, things will go in a different direction from the movie plot.