Hello again, ArielleMoonlight. Thank you for the reviews. How do I write so fast? My thoughts are constantly racing and this story is practically writing itself nonstop in my head at the moment. Also, this is definitely not a Rogan story. It's my personal take on the terrible third X-Men film and Logan's line that went something like: "I'm not your father, I'm your friend." I thought about it and was like, yes, but what if you WERE her father? Then what happens? Throw in some comic-book lore, shake it about a bit, bring Sabretooth back, and it's a story I have really enjoyed writing so far. Lately, I've gone through a huge chunk of time where I haven't written anything at all. Literally, about a year where I didn't write. I was depressed. Couldn't do anything. Now, things are better and my creativity is at a high for the time being.

Hello to everyone still reading along. It's not particularly world-stopping news, but I tried Sour Patch Kids for the first time yesterday. I'm disappointed. They weren't even sour. Also, it is hoes or hos? I've seen both spellings used and I'm still none the wiser. Please read the following chapter to understand.

Chapter 13

Rogue dreamt of Sour Patch Kids and a strip mall in Meridian, Mississippi. She could feel the heat of the sun on her skin and watched Mystique's golden hair glisten as spots of rain fell in a sudden summer shower. Running ahead to the car, she crossed into the street, and a truck hurtled toward her. She froze in the middle of the road, her little eyes wide, when a pair of protective arms hauled her back to the sidewalk. She stared up at her rescuer and saw Logan. He stared down at her, smoking a cigar, his brow lined with half-concern as Mystique rushed over to them. Suddenly, Rogue woke. Sitting up in bed, she calmed her breath and listened to the sound of birdsong. The morning light poured through her open curtains, and she could still taste the sharpness of her favourite candy on her tongue. It wasn't the first time she dreamt of her childhood, but that memory, with Logan and Mystique, could it be real?

She left her bed sluggishly, tired from the trip and tired of her thoughts. Her gaze travelled to the calendar on her wall, and she crossed out the fourth day of her grounding with a thick, black stroke of a pen. Returning the pen to its rightful place on her desk, she glanced at the square TV on her dresser. After the disaster of the trip, she stormed to her room, slammed her door shut, and discovered a gift. A brand-new TV, straight out of the box, plugged in and left with a simple note. From Bobby, it read.

As she washed and dressed, she searched through her makeup bag for her foundation brush. She understood what the TV signified in Bobby's mind. It was an apology for his crappy behaviour. A gifted sorry without him having to say those words to her hurt face. She knew he wanted to act cool in front of his silly friends, but he had really hurt her. The cheating had broken her heart. But with the bullying in the control room and his time spent repeatedly pressuring her, she secretly wished John Allerdyce had struck him harder with the rock.

Wandering down to the kitchen after the morning rush, Rogue collected a bottle of water and a bowl of over-milked cereal. She listened to the snap, crackle, and pop as she settled at the table. Her gaze followed Bobby when he entered the room. He smiled at her and complimented her new hair.

"Did you dye it yourself?" he asked, making his way over to her quiet corner.

When he reached forward to touch the bleached blonde streak in her hair, Rogue deliberately sunk further back in her chair.

Bobby stopped reaching for her and sighed instead. "You're still mad at me," he said, a little annoyed. "Even after I bought you a TV?"

Her eyes narrowed at him. "I want you to use your words, Bobby. You know how to say sorry the old-fashioned way."

With a measured smile, he shook his head and thought she was being overdramatic and ungrateful. "Where's your apology? I've been kind to you since you returned."

Rogue grit her teeth. Calming herself, she sighed and noticed Victor walking in with a scowl. She glanced at Bobby again. "I don't owe you anything."

"I think you do. You should say thank you to me and then say sorry to Kitty. You upset her, and that upset me," Bobby told her, and left the kitchen with a protein shake.

Victor half-listened to the conversation through no fault of his own and hauled two great hulking bags of ice from the chest freezer. Carrying them to the door, he looked at Rogue and thought she looked different somehow. Biding his time as he passed her spot at the table, he spoke to her. "Don't let anybody push you around."

Watching him leave with his bags of ice, Rogue finished her cereal and wondered if she would forever be known as a pushover. By the time she returned to her bedroom, her second class of the day had already begun. Skipping it, she sat at her desk, picked up a pen, and wrote a letter to Bobby, detailing her hurt and asking him to please consider her feelings. Her magazine mentioned how writing letters to ex-boyfriends helped silence pain. It also advised burning the letter without sending it, and she knew no one would let her anywhere near a box of matches again.

Twenty minutes passed and she heard a familiar knocking at the door. She rolled her eyes because she knew the owner of the knock. "Go away, Wolverine."

Logan opened her bedroom door and gave her a look. He crossed the threshold and with his hands deep in his jeans pockets, leaned against the wall beside her desk. As he gazed around, he spotted the TV that smelled like the Ice Prick. He decided to pick his battles with her today and didn't mention it. "There somewhere you should be right now?"

Thinking he meant her classes; she signed her name and folded the letter in half. While she searched for an envelope in her desk drawer, she ignored him and hoped he would go away.

He noticed her math equations were still untouched in the drawer. When she continued the silent treatment and seemed weighed down by the world, he reached over and gently tugged at the blonde lock of her hair. She glanced at him, and he frowned down at her. "This new?"

"I did it last night," she said, wondering if he would continue to bug her.

Grunting, he released the lock of hair and leaned against her wall again with his arms folded. His thoughts turned to the grounding, and he put together a plan he remained sceptical over. After all, what the hell did he know about doling out punishment? "You should be in my office, kid."

She tucked the letter into an envelope and sealed it shut. "Do you expect me to be a mind reader now?"

Logan sighed. He hoped her attitude would take a hike before the end of the month because he had grown tired of her sullenness. "You've got five minutes to get down there or I double the grounding."

An outraged Rogue pushed her chair back and leapt to her feet. "You wouldn't dare!" she challenged him.

He fixed her with a warning look. "Keep showing me you've gotten too comfortable breaking the rules and I'll triple it."

Her attitude died on her lips, and she rushed to the door with the letter in her gloved hand. "Fine," she muttered irritably. "We'll do things your way. Are you happy now?"

"No," he answered bluntly but honestly and traipsed after her with a scowl.

Rogue stomped along the hall and stormed down the staircase to Bobby's room. She slid the letter under his bedroom door as Logan watched her. "Do you mind?" she said, wanting some privacy for her broken heart.

"Time's not your friend, kid," Logan warned with a growl and tapped at his wrist.

Studying the clock face of his watch, Rogue cursed him in her mind and sprinted for the elevator. By the time she reached Logan's office, she collapsed on the couch facedown and prayed for death to claim her exhausted behind. She caught her breath and waited and waited for the sound of his footsteps.

Eventually, Logan appeared with a cup of coffee. He drank several mouthfuls and leaned lazily against the door frame as he watched her. "You finished typing up the danger room reports?"

As she lifted her head off the arm of the couch, she gazed at him with a silent promise to murder him through her words. She opened her mouth to rant spectacularly, and she realised he was doing this deliberately to annoy her. Well, guess what? He wouldn't win this war.

He shook his head calmly to quieten her before she even got started and figured if Jean believed he was on the right track; he would remain an asshole until Rogue learned where the rules lay. "I wouldn't push your luck. Consider this grounding a late birthday gift, huh?"

She bolted upright and gave him an incredulous look. "Grounding me for a month is a birthday present?!"

Confirming his answer with a grunt and a nod of his head, Logan stepped inside his rarely used office and set his mug down on the filing cabinet. "Yeah, for your fifteenth birthday."

A quietly seething Rogue wandered over to the desk and watched him dump a pile of papers for her to sort through. "I'm seventeen," she muttered through carefully clenched teeth and sat down on the chair with a huff.

He patted her shoulder as he stood behind her, waiting for her to get started on his paperwork. "In your dreams, kid."

"You have no idea," she answered quietly and thought about last night's dream.

Logan drained the last drop of his third cup of coffee from his spot on the couch. With his feet resting on the corner of the desk, he watched Rogue tap away angrily at the keyboard. Now and then she would pause and glare at him. He chuckled and ignored her. Sooner or later, he would piss her off to the point where she packed up and returned to her classes where she belonged.

Rogue left the chair and marched over to the filing cabinet to find a missing document. As she crouched and searched the second to last drawer, she heard the door open behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Scott. He looked different. Unhappy, maybe? No, he looked like he wanted to fight. She hesitated for a moment and watched him approach Logan.

Logan could smell every inch of fury in Scott's scent. He climbed to his feet and waited for the inevitable punch to be thrown.

"You and my wife," Scott hissed and took another threatening step forward.

Biting nervously on her bottom lip, Rogue realised he knew about Logan's affair with Jean. She abandoned the paperwork on the desk and approached them quickly. Stepping in front of Scott's path to block him, she shook her head. "This isn't the way," she told him softly, showing more maturity than both X-Men put together.

Logan grabbed her upper arm and guided her firmly out of the face of the glowering Summers. "Go take an early lunch break," he ordered her and pushed her toward the door to keep her safe.

Exasperated, Rogue returned to the spot between them despite Logan's growls of complaint. "I'm not letting you fight." She gazed at Scott again. "I know you're hurting right now, but I understand. It happened to me too."

Logan tried to protect her, but she suddenly stepped into the rapidly brewing fight. All she wanted to do was calm the situation down, but at that exact moment, Scott surged forward with an uncharacteristic loss of his temper. "You slept with a vulnerable student after you fucked my wife?!"

The scowling Logan watched Rogue tumble into the desk and when he heard Scott's accusation, he snarled and launched himself at the X-Man leader.

Ten minutes later, a shell-shocked Rogue sat in silence in the corner of the office. Logan soon settled beside her on the floor. They both looked at the upturned furniture and the papers that littered the floorboards. With the computer screen smashed and the keyboard crushed, she had nothing else to do but gaze at him with growing disappointment.

"Don't give me that look," he said as he watched her and tugged playfully at the golden lock of her hair again.

She knocked his hand away with a gentle swipe of her fingers and thought about the last few days. Everything was a mess, especially his office. "You're no different from my daddy."

Logan heaved the longest of sighs. It was high time they faced the truth together. "I'm the only father you've got, kid."

"You know what I mean. He liked violence, too. Always going to shooting ranges and firing at those little targets. He pretended they were the co-workers who wronged him and would get this giddy look on his face. You can't help yourself either, Logan. All you want to do is fight."

"He crossed a line, so I kicked his ass. That's all there is to it. No deep meanings and no links to those bible thumpers of yours," he explained gruffly and patted her arm to snap her out of her thoughts. "Now, you too busy moping to get me another cup of coffee?"

A horrified Jean, meanwhile, paced frantically from one side of the Professor's study to the other. She stared at Scott for a moment. He pressed another handful of tissues to his bleeding nose and tilted his head up. "Why didn't you tell me Logan's her father?" he asked with a pained wince.

She gazed at his swollen, cut lip and his progressively worsening bruised eye socket. "You didn't give me a chance. I attempted to explain things to you, Scott. But you stormed out of the room before I finished my sentence."

The Professor gazed at his former students, concerned for their wellbeing. "You lost your temper, Scott, and an unfortunate consequence of your actions today is Logan lost his temper, too."

Reading her husband's mind, Jean immediately stopped pacing, dismayed by the memories she secretly probed. "You knocked Rogue into a desk."

"It was accidental," Scott replied indignantly, pinching the bridge of his nose with the packet of tissues. "She stepped between us before anyone could stop her."

Shaking her head in disbelief at his actions, Jean walked toward the door. "I meant what I said when I shared my feelings for Logan with you. All you've done today is confirm my suspicions that our marriage is over."

Rogue wandered into the kitchen with Logan's empty mug, surprised it had survived the fight. She gazed at Victor, and he eyed her wordlessly from his spot at the coffee machine. With a sigh, she glanced at Bobby. Her former boyfriend sat at the table, eating a large bag of paprika chips. An earlier reading of her magazine told her boys like Bobby stuffed their shameless faces like wild hogs after spending time with small titty hoes. Part of her doubted the article had put it quite like that, but her mind didn't care as she quietly blanketed her resentment and let Gloria poke away at her.

While she waited patiently for her turn at the coffee machine, she grew annoyed watching Bobby blank her. Why wouldn't he just apologise? All she wanted to hear was the word 'sorry'. Sorry for scaring her, sorry for cheating on her, and sorry for demanding sex before she felt fully committed to gifting him her virginity.

Victor looked at her again. He had heard about his brother's fight with Summers, even chuckling about it until Storm told him of Rogue's accident with the desk. With a grumble, he gave her some further sage advice. "You're still letting people push you around. Stand up for yourself." Of course, he had been talking about Summers. Not that weak little shit pigging out on food in the corner.

Rogue turned to Bobby while Victor's words settled in her mind. She grew more impatient and tapped her fingers against the cup. "Did you read my letter?"

Between handfuls of chips, Bobby nodded and finally looked at her. "It was a little desperate," he said. As soon as those words left his paprika-stained lips, Logan's mug flew toward him and missed him by inches. It smashed against the wall behind him, and he almost choked on his mouthful of chips. His eyes widened, and he watched Rogue. "You just threw a cup at me!"

Victor looked over his shoulder and chuckled at the drama. The amusement instantly faded when the girl reached for his steaming hot mug of coffee. "No, you don't," he growled and pushed a box of eggs toward her instead. All he wanted to do was spend some time relaxing with his cup of coffee, not supervising a free-for-all fight with Jimmy's fucked up kid. Had he caught on to what the little shit had done to cause all the hassle, he'd have handed her the whole coffee machine to throw, but for now, he wanted to keep out of it.

While Victor left in search of some freedom from scrapping kids, Rogue picked up an egg and watched her ex-boyfriend intently. "You have one last chance to tell me you're sorry, Bobby Drake."

A little while afterwards, with the latest gossip reaching his ears, Logan climbed the stairs with a heavy sigh. Once again, he figured this had to be his fault somehow. He'd shown her how he fought with his fists in his office, and she traded that all in for the contents of the fridge and half the fucking pantry. "Shit," he had muttered under his breath when he saw the mess in the kitchen. He mouthed an "I'll be right back" to Storm and headed upstairs to find his kid. Yeah, his kid. She had to be his with a temper like that. As he reached her floor and listened to her quiet tears, he shook his head because it wasn't even midday and already they were both in the doghouse.

Rogue refused to talk to him when he opened her door without knocking. She didn't even lecture him about her privacy. From her spot on her bed, she gazed at his boots as he walked closer to her.

Logan's brow furrowed when he spotted the tears running down her cheeks. He dug in one of his jeans pockets and tossed a dime her way. When she caught it, he took a seat at her desk. He stretched his legs out in front of him, getting comfortable, and waited for her to talk.

Eventually, she gazed down at the dime in her hands. "What's your first question?" she asked him softly.

"What did the Ice Prick do to deserve it?" he asked gruffly, watching her closely for any signs of a lie.

If her heart hadn't been crushed, she might have smiled at his words. "Maybe just this once I need to fight my own battles," she murmured, a little afraid of what he would do to Bobby if she told him the full story.

Grunting, Logan figured it had to be something major if she wanted to hide it from him. He caught the coin with one hand when she threw it his way. Then he waited for her to ask her own question. He raised an eyebrow at her, growing a little impatient the longer she lay there in silence, gazing at the flour on her gloves.

Rogue thought carefully about what she wanted to ask him. She knew she would only have one chance before he returned the coin to her. "Was last week the first time you've been to Meridian?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, curious when he detected a change in her scent. She smelled almost scared to hear his answer. "My first and last visit," he confirmed, frowning when she rolled onto her side and turned her back on him.

"Liar," she whispered quietly, but he scowled when he heard it and left the chair.

He walked over to her and held the dime out for her to take. "Here," he told her, fully expecting her to act her age and talk to him. "We're not finished."

She took it with a quiet sigh but still refused to look at him again. Her and her big mouth. He could probably hear half of Westchester losing their minds in response to Jubilee's latest prank. Let alone catching her silly little insults under her breath.

Logan stood there awkwardly and glanced at the map she had pinned to the wall. "Look kid, it's been a difficult few days and I'm going to chalk this morning down to a tough start for the both of us. But I can't have you running around causing trouble when you feel like it. Storm's down there right now, clearing up your mess. Do you think that's fair?"

Suddenly eager to leave her bedroom, a guilty feeling Rogue crawled off her bed and made a rush to the door. But Logan caught her wrist. He studied her face and shook his head at her. "We're still not finished," he said gruffly. "What makes you think I'm a liar?"

She had desperately wanted to avoid him asking that question. The longer she stood there in silence, the more he scowled at her. Finally, she gave up and muttered whatever words appeared in her head. "I thought you visited there in your past, but maybe I'm mistaken."

Logan watched her carefully and failed to pick up an outright lie. Letting her go, he expected her to head straight down to the kitchen to right her wrongs. But she stopped in the doorway, ready to give him a piece of her mind, one lecture at a time.

"Don't start, Marie," he warned her with a growl because he recognised the know-it-all look in her eyes.

His use of her first name did little to save him from the lecture. "While we're discussing accountability, who's going to tidy the mess you made of your office, Logan?" she asked, hands on her hips. "Do you think maybe you need help from the Professor to control your temper? I was watching Oprah the other week, and she talked about guys losing their tempers too easily in this country, and I agree with her. Don't you think it's time you invested in yourself? You know, you can't keep letting the scared little boy inside you run your life."

With a grumble, Logan swung her around and steered her down the hall with his hand on her shoulder. "I'm capable of running my own life, kid. It's you I'm worried about."

Rogue ploughed on with the lecture until she changed tactics and her words softened. "We should watch that Oprah episode together. Jubilee really liked it; she thought everyone was cute, but I loved how they talked about the pain the guests were going through. Don't you ever think about all the trauma we carry around? I know you have trauma, Logan. Just think about it. Not everyone is hanged three times for horse rustling. And what about the time they shot at you and Victor?" She glanced over her shoulder with a wrinkled nose. "Are you listening to me?"

"No," he responded with his brand of blunt honesty and walked her to the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Logan surveyed the state of his office and got to work. While he turned the desk upright, he smelt Jean and heard her heeled shoes approaching the room. Her scent seemed calm, much to his surprise. He grunted roughly in greeting when she entered the room.

Jean gazed at the disorder that surrounded him. "I didn't expect Scott to confront you," she admitted. "Not immediately, not with force."

Logan raised an eyebrow at that. "Some telepath," he muttered and turned to face her as he set a chair down behind the desk. "You know, I could've done with a heads-up." He scowled at the memory of his one-sided fight with Summers and stooped to deal with the upturned couch. After a while, he looked at her again. "The kid got in the way, and if she's earned another bruise, I'll do more than use my fists next time."

She understood his threat toward her husband. "I'm sorry Rogue was harmed, but you know Scott would never do it intentionally. It was an accident. I read his mind, Logan." Reaching for a broom, Logan remained tense and she offered him a teasing smile. "Have you just remembered it's your responsibility to restock the items Rogue destroyed in the kitchen?"

Several hours passed, and Logan parked in the car lot of the busy local grocery store and scowled.

Rogue reached over and poked at his arm gently. "It's okay. I have the shopping list, and I'll do it alone. You can stay here or go for a coffee, I don't mind." She turned the volume up on the Dolly Barton song on the radio and continued to hum along to it.

He fixed her with a frustrated glare and took out a wad of twenty-dollar bills from his jacket pocket. "Wipe that look off your face, kid," he grumbled because she was too cheerful after all the trouble she caused to his wallet.

Rogue smiled at this grumpiness and gratefully took the money. As she climbed down from the truck, she gazed at a group of men and women with placards and signs at the entrance of the store. She couldn't quite catch their chants on the gentle breeze, but Logan could hear every word. With a growl, his eyes snapped toward the store.

As Rogue weaved through the parked cars and walked to the store entrance, she wondered why she felt so calm. Then she thought about Bobby Drake with a smile. When she covered him with flour and chased him with eggs, she felt alive again. Even as she threw everything she could at his once smug face, she understood she wasn't weak. She could protect herself, even if she didn't use her powers. Suddenly feeling better about her future, she reached the tethered line of shopping carts. As she carefully checked her pockets for the correct coin, a clipboard was rudely pushed in her face.

"Sign it and you'll help our worthy cause because it's life or death out here," a woman's abrupt voice demanded and held out a grubby pen for her to take.

Rogue gazed down at the clipboard and felt puzzled for a moment. She read the petition and a nervous knot twisted in her stomach. Gasping in outrage at the words used to describe mutants, she looked around and realised the protestors were members of Friends of Humanity. Dotted about everywhere in their matching shirts, they demanded justice for their missing leader. They shouted rallying cries to kill and conquer every mutant and raised their chilling anti-mutant flags in the air.

A frightened Rogue instantly shuffled backwards and bit nervously on her bottom lip. She tried to study their faces, remembering what Scott said about them being domestic terrorists. But the longer she stood there, staring at them silently, they seemed to pick up on her strange behaviour towards them.

The group came together suddenly, sharing quick barks of laughter and looks of understanding. "I think we've caught another live one," one of the gruffer men said with a knowledgeable grin.

As they closed in on her, Rogue moved further away from the store because she didn't want the other shoppers harmed. Her desperate gaze searched for Logan, but when she spotted an empty parking spot where the SUV used to be, she gulped. Had he taken her words to heart about being left alone to shop? The more Rogue panicked, the louder the group's laughs sounded in her ears. Finally, she paused in an empty corner of the car lot and peeled off her gloves. With a deep breath to calm her rising panic, she whispered bravely to herself, "I can do this."