Thank you to everyone that's read or reviewed these chapters so far – especially Somberlittleman - who really went to bloody town. I'm so glad you found the starter of the cave chapters confusing, because it's what I aimed for. I wanted it to be like, WTF, why's there a narrator, is Rogue ok or have I missed something important here? It will all make sense in the end, I promise! She's battling these different voices in her head which makes it even more difficult for her to tell a story when she's losing herself. It's confusing because she's confused. Does that make any sense? Ha.

Oh, and yes, I started to wonder if perhaps Victor would suit Storm. Like you pointed out, her character is crafted in a way on screen that moulds her into the perfect person to offer an olive branch to their enemies. She has that willingness to extend a hand of friendship to those struggling. She's really empathic. But yes, they're both attractive characters who I think REALLY complement each other.

Honestly, when I read your reviews this morning, it made my bloody day. I know the story's a little clunky in places but the more I experience life, the more I've come to realise it's like a set of awkward conversations all happening at once. And with poor Rogue, she has that to deal with, and everything around her is also falling apart. As for Logan, he's about to receive some shocking news after saving Rogue again.


Chapter 7

Two weeks later, Logan headed into the mansion and scowled at the students scrapping by the stairs. He pushed past them, an unlit cigar hanging from his lips. Halfway up the staircase, he searched for the kid. His homecoming usually played out under the same set of circumstances. He would head for his room, and Rogue would intercept him on the way. They shared a hug and she would tell him a story about a defensive move she'd learnt in a recent training session. Must've followed my advice and found a hobby. He snorted to himself and dumped his bag in his room.

By the time the sun had set, and the students finished dinner and were up to no good, Logan checked the rec room, the kitchen, and the danger room. He smoked several cigars, relaxed with a beer from his travels, and headed to her room. He wasn't one to worry, but the last time he saw her, she was friends with nothing but schoolwork and those voices in her head. She stuck to a routine and always chased him down. So, where the hell could she be?

He entered Rogue's bedroom and traced her scent to the window. He looked down at the trellis. Rose bushes climbed up the wall, and for unknown reasons, Rogue climbed down it in the last few hours. He tried to figure it out, matching this version of the kid with the one who always pestered him when he broke the rules.

He shook his head gruffly and glanced at her desk. With a heavy sigh, he rifled through the papers. Those math equations dated the day of his trip were still untouched and stuffed in the drawer. He found nothing else but neatly staged stationery and a pad of paper with bus timetables jotted down. With another sudden thought, he went to check her closet. Her clothes were still there, and her duffle bag sat untouched beside her shoes. When he found empty beer bottles in an old shoe box under her bed, he lit his cigar and settled at her desk. He had to be missing something here. If she wasn't running, why hide her movements from him?

The mansion's monthly midnight movie night was in full swing. The students hurriedly gathered in front of a projector screen in the rec room. A group of giggling girls threw popcorn at each other. While the others groaned in disappointment when Jean announced Scott had selected tonight's movie.

As the lights dimmed and the movie's opening credits played, Rogue crept closer to the spot under her open window. She climbed up the trellis and felt calm until the wood under her feet crumbled. Scrambling further up the rickety structure, she was almost safe, when suddenly, the entire frame collapsed. She gasped, braced for the fall.

Logan poked his head out the window, reached down, and caught hold of one of her gloved hands. He watched her dangling in the air and raised an eyebrow at her. "You've put on weight, kid."

Her eyes narrowed at the accusation. "That's a lie!"

"Then we're even," he answered and hauled her up into the safety of her room. Letting her go, he settled on her bed. He picked his cigar up again and watched her closely, searching for any visible clues of where she had been for the past few hours.

She shook the rose petals and debris from her coat and hair, then settled a glare on him again. "I never lie," she complained nervously and grabbed the papers off her desk. She stuffed them inside her closet and slid the door shut. Finally, she stared at him for a few seconds. Her eyes darted away when he continued to stare.

"Sure you don't," he finally answered with a snort and noted her tells. She'd given herself away before she opened her mouth.

With her nose wrinkled, she tried to think of another lie. He snorted at her. She gave a light sigh and fidgeted with a loose thread on her glove. This time, Logan chuckled. When she bit her bottom lip, yet another sign of those lies, she heard Logan snort again.

Finally, she huffed, pulled off her coat, and dumped it on her desk chair. "I'm late for movie night," she said softly and fled from the room before he stopped her.

Logan's brow furrowed, and he grabbed the book off her bedside table. He would stay put until she coughed up and told him the truth. He read the title of the book out loud. "Lady Chatterley's Lover?"

Thankful everyone had left her in peace, Rogue returned to her bedroom before the movie finished. She disliked Scott's taste in musicals with a modern twist and meaningful messages. When she pushed her door open, it surprised her to find the light beside her bed switched on. She wandered inside, her eyes widened and her face flushed red. "Oh my God, what are you doing?!"

Logan looked up from the book and raised an eyebrow at her. "You're full of surprises, kid."

She raced over to him and snatched the book out of his hands. Huffing, she whacked his shoulder with it and hugged it to her chest. "I'm dying right now," she told him, her accent thickening the angrier he made her.

He chuckled at her fury and left the bed. While he grabbed his jacket, he eyed her with a smirk, deliberately riling her up to break her temper into confessing whatever she was hiding. "Best not let the Ice Prick read it."

The anger died on her lips, and she slung the weighty book with added bridge notes into her closet. "He broke my heart, but he's not to blame for everything else going wrong."

Grunting in response, he headed to the door but stopped when he noted the look of hurt. It faded away when she noticed he'd caught it. "There something I need to know?" he asked her.

She shook her head and shooed him out of the room. When he opened his mouth to ask another question, she angrily slammed the door in his face. "I probably deserved that," he muttered and walked away.

The next morning, Logan helped himself to a coffee in the kitchen and snapped the crick in his neck. He heard some commotion outside and blocked it out, even as the chanting started. He thought he could try with Jean again, maybe talk her into a meeting at another motel downtown.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" a group of students yelled. Followed by a noisy shout from a shocked Jubilee. "Whoa, she's really kicking her ass!"

Logan rolled his eyes and snatched the newspaper off the counter. He checked the headlines first before flipping through the pages while the fight continued. He kept his nose out of it, even as Summers and Jean raced past the kitchen to break it up.

When he reached the back pages, Jean walked in with her arms crossed. "You pretended not to hear that fight, didn't you?" she said in disappointment.

He ignored her and focused on draining the last drop of his coffee. If she had a bone to pick with him, he would happily let her vent.

Jean shook her head in disbelief. "I know you like to be irresponsible sometimes, but did you really think letting Rogue fight would help her? If she has a problem with another student, she needs to discuss it, not launch an unprovoked attack."

Logan turned his full attention to Jean. "Very funny," he muttered, winking at her. He refilled his cup with fresh coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter.

She frowned at him because he refused to take the situation seriously. "Logan, whatever's happening between us, it doesn't give you the right to ignore your responsibilities."

He scowled at her and wondered what she meant by those words. "Look, you know as well as I do, the kid doesn't have an aggressive bone in her goddamn body." As soon as he finished those words, Rogue appeared in his line of sight, phasing through the furniture. He watched her sprint across the kitchen, her hair a mess and her face marked with a light scratch. He almost did a double take when she ran straight through the wall and disappeared upstairs.

"Do you believe me now?" Jean asked while Scott carried an unconscious Kitty Pryde through the kitchen.

Logan mulled his thoughts over and drained his second coffee of the morning. He thought about the kid and continued to be stumped. Sneaking out, keeping secrets, fighting. How did all this tie into last night? She'd changed and he didn't understand why. He could put it all down to the Ice Prick business or the latest kidnapping, but he couldn't help but think her trips out made things worse. Then again, it could be those voices in her damn head again.

After his fifth cup of coffee, a major workout session, a dozen smokes, and several days of thought, he decided it was high time he talked to her. He'd drop in on the kid and ask some tough questions. He doubted it would be difficult to fish for answers. But when he reached her bedroom, all he found was a missing Rogue. He sunk back on her bed and played the waiting game, but when the evening came and there was still no sign of her, he worked on a plan.

Last night, when he hauled her off that crumbling trellis, he picked up the scents of peanut shells and stale beer off her gloves. The smell of thick cigarette smoke also clung to her clothes and hair. And she had a bus timetable for a sketchy-as-hell area scribbled down and hidden away from prying eyes. He growled to himself because he knew where to find her lying ass.

At Jimmy's Bar and Grill, infamous cage fighting weekends were the bread and butter of the rough and deadly crowds. They dished southern food up on the weekdays, chased down with beer and hard spirits. Night after day, cigarettes were smoked, punches were thrown, and Rogue learnt quickly to duck when the regulars hurled bottles at each other. By Saturday night, they packed the place to the rafters on the most dangerous stretch of highway in the county. It was the murder mile of New York. A place where life was cheap and girls like Rogue were hounded with attention from ruthless drunks.

Rogue found this place with the help of Logan's lingering memories. The ones that visited her in her sleep were mostly nightmares, but this time they helped her into a job. The folks who ran the bar never asked for any ID, and every paycheck was cash in hand. She earned generous tips and even spent a full weekend perfecting her waitress walk in her bedroom mirror. Sometimes the patrons scared her, but she hoped the experience would help her break free from her shyness.

Rogue still carried the secret around. She told no one and took the job to give herself some space. Bobby and Kitty were dating, and she refused to come to terms with her entire life being a lie. Everything had fallen apart, even her perfect school attendance record, but she didn't care.

"Hey, you with the gloves and weird hair," a voice barked at her from a bar stool.

Rogue swung around and smiled politely, ready to take another order. It was a busy night with the cage fights scheduled and even though she hated the violence; she became reliant on the tip jar. As she jotted down the man's muddled food order, her nose wrinkled at his beer breath when he scooted closer to her.

"What's in the easy gumbo?" he said with a dirty, great smirk and toyed with the dog tags on her wrist.

"Onion, bell peppers, celery, shrimp, tomatoes, and a cajun seasoning," she replied politely, tugging the dog tags loose from his grubby fingers.

The drunk leaned forward on the stool. "Do you know Wolverine?"

Rogue thought for a moment and found it easy to lie. "It's just the name of a jewellery brand," she said and took the order to the kitchen. When she came back, the drunk nursed another beer with his friends. She walked past them to check on a table of customers.

He followed her to several tables, weaving through the crowds so she could hear every word he uttered. "I met a fighter called Wolverine once. I fought him in that cage over there, and he beat the shit out of me. He took the full winnings that night, so I dragged a girl from behind the bar, went outside, and took what I wanted from her."

"I hope you enjoy your meals," Rogue told the people at the table and returned to the bar. With every step she took, she pretended to be calm, but inside she felt sick. Something told her tonight would be a disaster as she gazed at the creep. She thought every word he spewed was a lie, but failed to fully realise the danger that surrounded her.

"Do you know what Wolverine did to me when he found me on top of her?" he asked irritably and leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. "I'll show you the scars if you follow me outside." When she failed to move, his temper reared its intolerant head. "I told you to come outside with me, you dirty fucking mutant!"

The loud mention of the word "mutant" made several of the customers stare at Rogue suspiciously. She shrunk back a little and moved the tip jar closer, her gloved fingers quickly unscrewing the lid. To keep calm, she took to counting every f-word they shared as she pocketed her tips.

The main drunk finished his bottle of beer and smashed it on the counter. He held a piece of jagged glass up, and it glinted dangerously under the light. "You've got a pretty face for a mutant," he said and enjoyed the look of fear in her eyes.

A silent Rogue remembered her training but wanted to avoid adding his voice to her head. As she backed away from the danger, she held her breath for a moment and wondered what to do for the best. The voices piped up in her head, and each held a unique plan. Sabretooth's more violent, but Mystique's even wickeder. Shaking those voices away, she tried to think for herself, but time seemed to stall when fear drowned her.

Suddenly, a growling Logan shoved his way through the crowds. He dragged the drunk from his stool and slammed his head against the grizzled bar and onto the crushed glass. Rogue visibly flinched at the sound of the drunk's skull shattering. When she heard Logan unsheathe his claws, she rushed into the back room to fetch her coat.

Footsteps soon followed her, and she phased through a drunken, swaying attacker. She tripped him up and pulled her coat from the rusted hook. Ready to fight if she had to, she felt a flood of relief when he drunkenly collapsed. Maybe this hadn't been her smartest idea, she thought with a sigh.

Logan appeared as his eyes darted about for signs of danger. He shoved her ahead of him and they moved outside onto the fire escape. The sleet turned to snow, and they raced down the steps, soon reaching the car lot below. Still caught in an icy shiver, Rogue climbed into the SUV and gazed at him quietly.

As he drove them to safety, Logan switched the radio off and itched at the knuckles of his right hand.

She gently untangled the dog tags from her wrist and offered them to him. He looked at her and sighed. When he took them, she glanced out of the window and watched the snowfall. The silence she hated, and the longer it lasted, the more she thought about the secrets she kept.

When they arrived back at the mansion, Logan finally looked at her again as he pocketed the car keys. After the fallout from her latest stunt, he thought he deserved answers. "You owe me an explanation, kid."

The broad scope of his statement made her leave the garage quicker than her feet were used to. She went inside, desperate to run because she hated keeping secrets. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew her past would only hurt him. "Just leave me alone," she said and snatched a can of soda from the fridge.

He eyed her with a frustrated look, his patience thin on the ground. "What, no beer tonight?"

Releasing an upset huff, Rogue instantly knew he had snooped in her room. She sidestepped him and stormed to the staircase. As she climbed the first step, he caught hold of her arm. "Just leave me alone, Logan," she repeated and refused to meet his gaze.

With a scowl, he studied her face. "What the hell was going through your head when you took a job at that bar?"

She looked right through him when she finally realised that she had nowhere to run. Tears clouded her eyes and his grip on her arm loosened. Even when he gave her the silence to fill with truthful words, she still felt caught between crying or running away.

With another heavy sigh, Logan tried a different tactic. "I can't help thinking that's not the only reason you've been avoiding me, kid."

She gazed down at her feet and felt a lump appear in her throat. Why did she have to do this alone? It wasn't her fault, none of this was her fault.

"Rogue, it's okay," Jean's voice called to her gently from the top of the staircase.

"No, it's not okay," Logan grumbled in frustration and eyed the redhead with a sharp glare. He settled his dark gaze on Rogue again. "You've changed, and I want to know why."

"The Professor's waiting for us," Jean told the girl gently as she joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

Logan looked between the two of them and growled. He let go of Rogue's arm and dug in his pocket for a cigar. When she made no movement to join him in his walk to Charles' study, he chomped down on the cigar. "Have it your way, kid," he said, determined to get his answers.

The worried Rogue sat down on the stairs and hugged her knees. While chewing on her bottom lip nervously, she shook her head at Jean. "I've upset him enough tonight," she admitted softly.

Jean comforted the girl but hesitated to make any promises about the outcome of the talk in the study. She knew it had the potential to send Logan on the road again. "You haven't upset him; he's afraid next time he will be too late to save you."

As those words sunk deep into Rogue's scattered mind, Jean joined the Professor and Logan in the study.

"I don't want to hear she's acting out because of the other week. She wasn't like this after Ellis Island," Logan growled from his spot at the fireplace.

Jean and the Professor shared a concerned look. When he nodded, she collected two pieces of paper off the desk and smiled in Logan's direction. "I hope you realise how lucky you are," she said, her way of easing him into the news slowly.

Logan's eyes narrowed when she handed him the papers, and he gave them a quick glance over. "What am I looking at?" When she told him to focus, he sighed. There were two birth certificates. Storm's scent clung to them the strongest. The listed names were different. So were the birthdates. Even the parents' names seemed to disagree with each other. On the Caldecott County certificate, there was no father listed. He frowned and noticed Mystique's name jotted down as the mother. "I still don't know what I'm looking at."

"Read the other birth certificate," Jean urged him gently.

With a raised eyebrow, he checked the second piece of paper again. He read through the information and grunted. "It's the kid's birth certificate."

Jean walked over to him, hopeful he understood the situation. "Rogue and Anna Marie Darkholme are the same person."

No wonder she's so goddamn difficult, Logan thought when he realised the kid was related to Mystique.

"I think you'll find you're the one she inherited her difficulties from," Jean replied with the slightest of amused smiles.

A doubtful Logan looked at Jean and Charles. He snorted and shook his head, stressed as hell and ready to light his cigar on the spot. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"The information is correct, Logan," the Professor announced from the desk. "Storm's research is meticulous –"

"You said the same thing when she claimed the Dicks of Humanity only had one base," Logan growled, interrupting Charles. He snagged his lighter from his pocket and headed to the patio doors.

A disappointed Jean followed him. She hoped he would take the news better than this. "It's true, Logan. You're a father."

"I sure as hell hope not," Logan grumbled absentmindedly and lit his cigar before he even reached the outside.

From her spot on the stairs, an anxious Rogue heard every word. With her gloved fingers crossed, she eavesdropped on the conversation and prayed he would welcome the news. Maybe he would even apologise for his part in the mess? She didn't think he was to blame for any of it, but if he said sorry, they could work things out properly. When she listened to him say those hurtful words, though, she sprung to her feet and fled to her room.

Logan swung around in time to watch her disappear up the stairs. He sighed when he heard her bedroom door slam shut. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.