Hi ArielleMoonlight, thanks for the reviews. But no, NO ROGAN here! I apologise for that, too. It appears we're both British, so I'm sure you're used to the constant mumblings of "I'm sorry" every day.

Anyway, hi again, everyone. So, teen mags inspire a small part of this chapter. Do you know the ones I mean? The glossy magazines for teenage girls often stuffed full of advice. I used to buy them when I was younger, and I remember once sitting on the bus and coming across some interesting content. Despite sitting on the very back row of the bus, I absolutely died and became convinced someone would see me reading the interesting content. So, yes, if you know, you know. If not, please read the following chapter to understand.

Chapter 9

They crossed into a rainy and windswept Maryland later that evening, and Rogue glanced up from her glossy magazine. She gazed out the window and winced at the sound of the heavy rain. The weather had gotten gradually worse the further south they travelled. Maybe it would be a good idea to stop for the night? She looked at Logan, and he seemed miles away, probably dreading another set of roadworks.

Lost in his thoughts, Logan busily planned for the evening ahead. Certain he recognised the highway they travelled on, he waited for the exit ahead. He headed down a quieter road and grinned to himself as the route took them closer to one of the better-paid cage-fighting spots in the entire state.

After a while, Rogue looked up from her magazine again and spotted a strip plaza on the righthand side. The lights from the bars, stores, and restaurants twinkled in the gloomy night. It seemed welcoming and she smiled when he pulled over. "At last. My legs are killing me."

Logan gave her a disbelieving look because her legs seemed fine to him. "I'm going to put my name down for the cage match tonight," he explained gruffly and nodded toward the nearby bar. "Then we'll check in at the motel across the street. I figured once I get the room keys, we'll come straight across again and you can chase down some bar snacks with a soda."

"Do I have a say in any of this?" she asked him as she lost her reading spot on the page.

He climbed out of the SUV and pulled his jacket on. "Not until you grow up," he answered and shut the door on her reply.

Rogue snapped her mouth shut and huffed to himself. She only wanted to remind him of her age. At seventeen, surely, she had a say in where they stopped during this road trip? She focused on her magazine again and read about true love. If a boy loved you, he would blush a lot and confuse his words as he fidgeted with his pants. She thought of Bobby and wondered if maybe he acted that way sometimes. She turned the page again and discovered a detailed double article that explored adventurous sexual positions. Now she blushed as she drank in the words of each paragraph.

When Logan returned to the car, he was relieved to find her still sitting there. He brushed a hand through his damp hair and eyed her as she lifted the magazine higher until she hid her entire face. As he settled down, he held the car keys in his hand and looked at her. "Did I miss something?"

"No," Rogue muttered quietly from behind the pages of the magazine.

He grunted, unsure of her answer, but drove them across to the motel. The vacancy lights flashed in the motel office window, and he told her to stay put again. "There's no point in us both getting wet," he said.

Rogue waited a few minutes and certain he had gone into the office, she put the magazine down again. "Oh my God!" she cried, giggling to herself. "I've got to tell Jubilee everything!"

Logan returned a while later, two motel room keys in his hand. He eyed her suspiciously when she hugged the magazine close and blushed. "You okay, kid?"

Rogue nodded; a heated flush clung to every inch of her face as she dug her nails into the glossy cover. She needed to tell Jubilee. Right now. Literally, this second. It couldn't wait. "Can we go to our rooms first?"

Logan changed their plans, and she took the duffle bag from him as he unpacked the SUV. Still a little unsure over her behaviour, he clasped his hand on her shoulder and led the way up to their rooms on the second floor. He handed the key to her when they reached her door. "You're across the hall from me."

Rogue unlocked the door in such a rush, she let it shut on Logan's face and raced straight for the tethered phone in the corner by the bed.

Figuring perhaps she needed the bathroom; Logan shook his head and made his way across the hall to his own room. He unlocked the door and walked inside. As he gave the place a quick search and checked everything seemed normal, he stripped out of his clothes and headed straight into a warm shower. With a welcomed sigh, he felt his tense muscles relax under the hot spray.

In an excited hurry, Rogue misdialled the cell number several times. Taking a deep breath, she tried again, and this time Jubilee answered. "It's me," she said. "No, I'm with Logan. Wait a minute, remember what you said about you know what?" She reached for the magazine and found the relevant pages again. "Listen to every word of this, alright? It promises to help us the next time we find a boy we like."

A growling Logan searched for his cell phone as he dressed. He answered it with an impatient snarl. "What?" he demanded to know. "Oh, hey, Jean. Yeah, she's with me. No, she's in a room across the hall. Why?" He chuckled as he buckled his belt, ready to flirt. When Jean told him Jubilee currently had Rogue on speaker phone in the rec room with an audience, he found it hard to believe because the kid didn't have a cell. "What are they talking about? C'mon, Jean, she doesn't know anything about that." When she remained adamant, he considered the strange behaviour in the car. "Uh-huh, yeah, give me a minute."

He pulled his unbuttoned shirt on and opened the door. As he listened to Rogue's voice across the hall, he growled to himself and went to knock on her door.

"Give me a second, Jubes. Someone's knocking," Rogue said and left the magazine on the bed. She balanced the phone on the table and answered the door with a huff.

As soon as the door opened, Logan pushed his way inside her room. He slammed her motel phone down and eyed her angrily as he snagged the magazine off the bed.

Rogue's face flushed scarlet, and she launched herself at the magazine in his hands. "No, you can't take it!"

Logan flipped her effortlessly onto the bed and stormed back to his room with the magazine gripped tightly in his hand. He nudged his door shut with his bare foot and looked down at the wrinkled pages. He planted the cell phone to his ear again. "Yeah, Jean, I've got it," he sighed. "Uh-huh. Yeah, I talked to her about it." He snorted at her reply. "Okay, I forgot you could read minds. I'll talk to her, I promise. Hey, before you go, you want to read my mind?"

Rogue lay on her double bed in the spot where she landed, staring at the motel room ceiling. She would stay here, watching the shadows on the ceiling until she felt every drop of embarrassment leave her body. No way could she move, not while fully aware Logan had that magazine with those pages and those words. She felt herself blush red again and pulled a pillow over her face.

After he ended the phone call with Jean, Logan studied the pages of the magazine for a few minutes. His brow furrowed with deeper lines the longer he read. They really sold garbage like this to teen girls, huh? After he checked another few pages, he dumped the magazine in the trash can and finished dressing. As he slipped on his boots and grabbed his jacket, he picked up his fresh box of cigars. He helped himself to a couple and pocketed his lighter.

Logan locked his room and crossed the hall again, knocking on Rogue's door. When she failed to answer, he tried the door handle and walked inside. "You know, kid. You should lock the door; anyone can walk in."

"I don't care, I'm too busy dying," Rogue muttered, still holding the pillow to her embarrassed face as she lay on the bed.

He tapped her leg, and when she refused to stir, he grabbed the pillow off her face. "Look, about that magazine," he said. They both appeared uncomfortable and finally, he sighed and searched for a cigar. As he lit it, he gestured for her to get her coat. "We'll talk about it later."

Just as relieved as him to change the subject, Rogue put her coat on and followed him downstairs to the rainy car lot. She pulled her hood up when she stepped out into the watery weather. "Do you think Storm's having a nice time in Florida?"

Logan looked at her as he unlocked the SUV. "No," he grunted and squinted upwards when a giant bolt of lightning ignited the night sky.

Rogue smiled at the coincidence and settled in the car. She buckled herself in even though he drove them a short distance across the street. When they entered the bar, she gazed around, her fascination soon turning to boredom. It looked like any other cage-fighting bar. The rooms were dimly lit, apart from the humongous cage. All the surfaces looked grimy and felt sticky to the touch. Even the barstools had seen better days and desperately needed reupholstering. Confused about who the upholster comment had come from in her mind, she blanked out all voices around her until she could focus.

When Logan noticed she stopped following him, he frowned and retraced his steps. "You've got to pay attention, kid," he told her and guided her firmly by the arm toward the bar.

She hushed him and searched the voices in her head again. "Oh, it's Gloria. I thought so."

"No, no thinking about Gloria," he grumbled in her ear and set her down on a stool. "You stay put. No moving. No thinking. No trouble. Don't touch the beer and don't go getting kidnapped."

"It's like you don't even trust me," she pointed out, her nose wrinkled and annoyed.

Logan looked at her and snorted. He ordered himself a beer and waited for his name to be called from the cage. Thirty minutes later, the announcer whipped up the baying crowds with the infamous name of "WOLVERINE" roared into the microphone. Logan told Rogue to stay put one last time and pushed his way through the rows of drunken gamblers, crooks, and petty criminals.

Rogue scooted around on the stool and sighed gently to herself. Her thoughts wandered to the first time she ever saw him fight someone in a cage match. Back then, life was simpler. She tearfully shed her family when they no longer wanted her. Now she didn't understand where she stood, who loved her, or even who her family was. She shook her head at her silly thoughts. Logan told her to stay on the stool. Don't stand, wander, or even think. "He's stupid, isn't he?" she whispered to herself.

"You're the stupid one. You're on my fucking stool," a voice snarled at her and shook her from her thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said as she gazed at the strange guy. Her eyes searched his angry face, his badly healed broken nose, and the stitches in his upper lip. He even had a black eye and pupils the size of the state they currently resided in.

Without uttering another word, he reached for his stool and violently rocked it until she got the message.

Rogue's back painfully struck the bar, and she quickly clambered off the stool before she fell again. "You can have it, I don't mind," she reassured him and took a careful step between a group of drunks. With her body feeling bruised, she wandered through the cheering crowds as the first round began.

Logan lit a cigar and watched his opponent cockily punch the air and whoop. He raised an eyebrow, patiently biding his time. When the atmosphere shifted and the crowd called for bloodshed, he snorted to himself and stepped into the centre of the ring. The space between them dwindled, and his opponent soon failed to get the message.

"USA! USA!" the fighter called out, a grin on his face as he looked around at the excited crowd.

As Logan fixed his opponent with a grimace, he realised that he was matched up with one of those dumb fucks again. Half tempted to knock the dick straight on his ass, he reminded himself it was best to take his time. The longer the fight lasted, the more believable it would feel to those watching. After all, he didn't need a repeat of Laughlin City. Clearing his gravelly throat, he eyed his opponent. "You finished showing off to your friends?"

Rogue's feet crossed the wooden floorboards softly as she watched the action unfold in the cage. The minutes dragged by, and she visibly winced when Logan crashed to his knees. As the USA chant started again, she stepped out onto the front row and peered through the barbed wire at him.

Inhaling a deep mouthful of smoke, Logan chomped on his cigar. From his viewpoint on his knees, he looked up and watched his opponent strut about the ring. Growing tired of the clown act, he frowned again and shook his head. As he climbed to his feet, he snapped the crick from his neck and slowly closed in on the guy.

The overconfident fighter continued to celebrate his masterful moves. Kissing his lucky fist, he caught sight of a pretty girl in the front row. He liked her green coat and wondered how long it would take her to undress for him after he won the fight. As he stepped closer to her, he fully puckered his lips, making it known he had an interest in her.

Logan followed his opponent's gaze and realised who the advances were towards when he spotted Rogue close by. When he watched the son of a bitch reach to touch her through the wire, his eyes narrowed. He swung him around and knocked him clean off his feet with one solid crack of his fist.

Rogue's eyes widened as the boos rang out around them. She flinched again when she saw the fighter land awkwardly in the centre of the ring. He appeared badly hurt. Even when his friends came to his aid, he remained unresponsive as they slapped his face.

Logan grabbed his jacket and ignored the boos directed at him. He exited the cage and made his way over to Rogue. When he reached her, he held onto her upper arm and guided her firmly over to the bar. With a growl, he demanded his stake of the winnings and refused to wait until the end of the night.

"It's bad luck to give winnings out halfway through the fights, but fine, do as you please," the middle-aged woman cautioned and reached for the cashbox.

While Logan grumbled impatiently, Rogue gazed at him. "You don't understand," she whispered defensively as the lady behind the bar counted out the cash.

He narrowed his eyes at her and pocketed his winnings. "What's there to understand, kid?" he asked gruffly and walked her back through the crowds. They reached the SUV without further trouble, and he shoved her gently toward her seat. "You do what you want, and I'm just here to clean up the mess."

"All you do is growl, sigh, smoke and grumble," she complained, buckling herself in with an irritated huff.

"I wonder why?" Logan growled and shut her door firmly.

Growing annoyed, she pointed a gloved finger at him when he opened his car door. "You never listen to me, Wolverine."

With a raised eyebrow, he leaned inside and shoved her finger out of his face. As he sat down, he fixed her with a dark look. "You're pushing your luck," he warned her and started the ignition. "And do you know what, kid? I'm starting to wonder how the hell that goddamn family of yours raised –"

Rogue lost her temper when he mentioned her family. "How can you talk about them like that?!" she shouted over him and drowned out his words when he tried to answer her. "You're the one who stole horses, ran away all the time and chased girls across the border. You were my age when you did that. They tried to hang you when you took all the sheriff's horses and sold them to a cattle rancher near Thunder Bay."

"Bullshit," Logan grumbled and drove them back to the motel with his scowl focused on traffic.

"No, it's not. I can see it in my head. They're Sabretooth's memories. He saved you from the gallows," she cried angrily, tears in her eyes. "Even after you both escaped to Alberta, you kept stealing because you were hurting inside. He warned you to stop, but you wouldn't listen to him. You ran away and the second time they hanged you at Pigeon River! Every horse you sold you still sent money back to your mama even though she didn't want you."

"Enough!" Logan roared angrily as he parked outside the motel and turned to face her.

Tears escaped Rogue's eyes and slipped down her pale cheeks. All the pain she could feel didn't belong to her. She gazed at him for a few moments; the memories fading into the back of her mind. At any second, the uncomfortable silence between them was close to sparking another argument. Finally, she turned away from him and fled the car.

Growling, Logan watched her run into the motel. He smoked several cigars and scrubbed a hand over his weary face. "Shit," he muttered and eventually reached for her bag of snacks. As he rifled through them, he sighed. Nothing she screamed at him made any sense. He carried no memories of his past and held zero interest in Victor's goddamn version of events. With a grumble, he left the SUV and looked up at the sky. Another powerful bolt of lightning appeared above him. He shook his head and made his way back to the motel.

Rogue heard her door open and recognised the sound of Logan's footsteps. She huffed loudly and hoped it made clear she hated everything about him. She rolled onto her side with her back to the door and huffed again because he needed to leave.

"I get it, kid," Logan answered and fiddled with the latch on the door, checking to see why it failed to lock. "You don't want me here, but we need to talk."

He shut the door and dropped her bag of snacks by her duffle bag. When she still refused to talk to him, he settled down beside her on the bed. "I'm sorry about last night."

Those words tugged at her heart, and she sighed. "Me too."

Patting her on the shoulder, he figured now he'd apologised, he had to move the conversation to the magazine, birth certificates, or the argument in the car. He picked the easiest subject first. "About those memories in your head."

Rogue turned to face him with a stubborn gaze. "They're real, Logan. I can see them in my mind like a movie. They play all the time, showing me how you broke the law in every town you visited. Maybe you were the youngest horse thief in the whole of Canada."

"Enough of that already," Logan growled, ready to change the subject again. He had a difficult enough time making her toe the line without her digging up his past. "Look, that magazine you bought, kid."

"You bought it. I just read it accidentally because the pages fell open on my lap while I searched for snacks," Rogue said defensively and tried her hardest not to blush.

Logan focused on the far wall and shook his head. He had no intention of policing everything she read. But he thought she ought to know that girls who liked that kind of thing would be taken advantage of by assholes. Each time he tried to explain his thoughts, he failed. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Look, kid, Jean thinks those magazines will rot your brain." With that settled, he left the bed and lit a cigar.

Rogue gazed at him, thinking he had lost his mind. "Logan, you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. Even in the bar, I took care of myself."

"Just go to sleep," Logan grumbled in response. He fixed the latch on her door with a satisfied look on his face and wanted his bed. Leaving her room, he shut the door behind him and heard it lock. As he headed across the hall, he dug around in his jacket pocket until he found the birth certificates. With a scowl, he looked down at them again. You could count on him to tell her the truth tomorrow.