Chapter 19

The soothing early morning birdsong was soon drowned out by students racing each other in the corridor outside Rogue's bedroom door. Her eyes drowsily fluttered open and she stifled a yawn. Confused by the gentle rise and fall of a flannel pillow, she lifted her head and brushed the hair from her face. She saw Logan beside her, reading through pages with an overfamiliar gilded edge. Gasping, she launched herself at his hands, ready to fight him if necessary. "Have you lost your mind?!"

He quirked an eyebrow at her while she swiped half the pages away with her gloved fingers. At first, he thought those written words were some kind of cluttered work of fiction she had secretly jotted down. The more he read, he concluded he had every right to question her goddamn mind. "Careful. You're tearing your little book to pieces."

"It's not a book, it's a journal!" she snapped loudly in his face, attempting to catch the loose pages as they glided to the carpet. "How can you sit there and invade my privacy? I can't even finish my sentence because you're going to die."

"Poor choice of words, kid," he muttered which riled her up even more.

"You're such a liar!" She scooted over his legs and off the edge of the bed, landing on the carpet with a gentle thud as she collected the pages. "Last night you were sweet. You made me think things would be different and then I wake up from the first proper sleep I've had in a whole week and you're invading my privacy!"

Checking the pockets of the grey hoodie for a cigar, he wondered where he put his lighter. "What's with this bar-hopping stuff I read about on page twenty-two?"

"You read as far as page twenty-two?!" she hissed, her eyes wide with worry yet fully committed to murdering him on the spot.

Ignoring her anger, he climbed to his feet and stepped over her. "You ever think maybe you should stay in bed instead of running around the streets at midnight?"

Collecting the last page from under her bed, she tucked them into her bedside drawer and slammed it shut. "I'm not taking advice from you. You're nothing but an invader of privacy. My privacy. Go straight to that fiery pit of hell, Logan. There's a seat waiting for you, and it has your name stamped on in large, red lettering!"

With his trusted brow furrowed, he opened the bedroom window and felt the crisp morning air rush in. Finding his lighter on her desk, he sat at her chair and gestured for her to come closer. "Like those red letters you used on page fifteen?"

Rogue watched him light his cigar, shaking her head. Seething, she wanted to ram her journal down his throat. "Don't mention page fifteen, page twenty-two, or page one. I swear you're worse than Genghis Khan. Do you know who he is?" He nodded. "Storm taught us all about him in history class. So, congratulations. You're worse than him and I bet while he invaded everything and everywhere, even he didn't read his daughter's journal. Now I need to catch my red-hot tongue before I say something I truly regret."

Logan chuckled and ignored the ticking off. When she refused to budge from her inch of carpet, he stood and made his way over to her with his steady gaze. With his sleeve, he tilted her chin upward until their eyes met. "You keep doing what you're doing, and you'll end your days dead in a ditch."

Eyes narrowing slightly, her response was defensive and crept towards a tidy bluntness she often admired from the voices in her mind. "I snuck out once."

"There's a creep waiting on every street corner, and you only need to cross paths with them one time," he answered, continuing to scowl as he caught the stubborn look in her eyes. "You think your mutation's going to protect you? Those creeps don't care, Marie. They'll die trying and you'll be left dealing with the fallout. Is that what you want?"

Annoyed by the show of overprotectiveness, she crossed her arms in another display of defensiveness. "Is this about the bruise on my back and the guys at the warehouse?" she asked, picking his memories apart in her mind.

"No, it's about me keeping your feet firmly on the ground. You can't keep running around without a care in the goddamn world. There are consequences for everything, you understand? You head outside in the middle of the night, and you might not come back."

She gazed at him, disappointed. "I only did what every girl my age wants to do. You can't expect us to be prisoners once it gets dark outside."

With a heavy sigh, he let go of her chin and hugged her close. "I know," he answered gruffly. After a minute or two of further thought amongst the heavy waft of cigar smoke in the air, he knew it was time for another road trip. They needed months away from the mansion. Somewhere they could both relax with nature around them. "Pack your stuff and meet me in the garage in an hour."

She curiously peered from under his hug. He nodded in confirmation. They were going on another trip. "Do you want to hear my opinion?"

He snorted in amusement and freed her from his arms. "Not until you grow up."

Fifty minutes later, with a rucksack at his feet, Logan folded his arms and looked at Charles Xavier. He almost trusted himself to keep the conversation civil. "I've been going over everything in my head since I woke," he said, eyeing him suspiciously behind the desk. "You knew about me and Rogue from the start."

Charles remained passive; his fingers clasped together. "I may have read several of Raven's thoughts in the mid-nineties. There were long-held rumours she gave birth to a child she chose to keep a secret. Of course, most patterns of mysterious thinking only make sense once you read the mind of an accomplice. Erik's plans were alarming enough for us to ready ourselves, and I hoped gentle encouragement in Rogue's mind would guide her into your path, Logan. Perhaps even awaken a sense of protectiveness inside you."

An unimpressed Logan fished his car keys from his jacket pocket. "You could have come to me and explained what was going on."

Smiling slightly, Charles continued to gaze at the understandably unmoved member of his team. "We invited you to join the X-Men in 1962. You weren't at all accommodating with our polite request. I feared the same would happen again, so decided it best to plot another course of action." He watched him pick up the rucksack. "Before you go, there is something else I need to share with you."

Grunting irritably and pausing his route halfway to the door, Logan shouldered the bag and waited impatiently. "What it is now?"

"Rogue's gift. Her mutation is already a remarkable force in the face of danger and she has the potential to harness an incredibly powerful mutation in the future. She may be one of the strongest mutants on this earth," he warned cautiously.

With a heavy sigh, Logan nodded his thanks and left the study. That's just what he needed. Not only was her attitude, naivety, and constant clumsiness a cause for concern, but she also carried around a goddamn mutation fit for an army of kidnappers to abuse. He caught Jean's scent behind him and listened to her footsteps close in on his personal space. Grumbling to himself, he walked faster and sidestepped a handful of students loitering outside a classroom.

"So, it's true. You're leaving again," Jean said, catching up with him with purposeful strides of her long legs.

He kept his eyes pinned on the route. "I figured the kid could do with a break."

She reached for his arm, but he pulled away from her. Disapproving of his decisions, she stepped in front of him. "But what about her classes? She's fifteen, she can't afford to fall behind."

When Logan finally looked at her, he studied every inch of her beautiful face. "She'll have no problem catching up. Now, do you mind, you're in my way."

Jean frowned faintly at him, taken aback by his coldness and unable to voice her thoughts without a tenseness in her words. "Are you really going to jeopardise Rogue's education because you're upset that I'm still in love with my husband?"

With a raised eyebrow, he snorted dismissively at her. "You've got a real high opinion of yourself, Jean. From where I'm standing, it was nothing but a fling." Pretending he wasn't hurt by her actions, he headed in the direction of the garage with a scowl.

At that very moment, a cautious Rogue carried her duffle bag tightly in her gloved hand and crept into the empty corridor outside her bedroom door. She gazed around anxiously and hoped to avoid everyone and anyone. She sighed when she spotted Jubilee. Ready to run and hide in her closet, she froze when she heard her name called enthusiastically.

"Hey Rogue, wait!" Jubilee said, jogging toward her with a friendly grin. She held a book-shaped item in her hand, gift-wrapped in fluorescent yellow paper that even made her eyes ache. "I heard you were leaving, and I just wanted to say sorry for avoiding you since the Bobby thing. I know I'm a shitty person who really dumped you in it with Wolvie. Oh, and I've got to let you in on something else. The dream wedding's off. There's no way I can marry a hot guy like him when he scares the panties straight off my shapely ass. While I'd love to be naked, he's too fiery to handle and that mean scowl of his, yeah, I've totally fallen out of love."

Smiling, Rogue gazed warmly at her best friend. "He's a teddy bear once you get to know him," she promised and looked down at the gift offered to her. "Is that for me?"

Jubilee handed it over and gave a wave as she walked away. "It's to keep you company on the road!" she called over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner without waiting for a response.

With a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, Rogue wandered downstairs and glanced at the gift. As she wondered what it might be, she heard an unwelcome voice. Sighing, she looked up and spotted Kitty. Her smile instantly vanished, replaced by a nervous frown that rooted her to the spot.

"You've finally dared to show your face, then?" Kitty said, walking toward her with two friends flanked on either side. "After everything Bobby did for you, I need to know if the rumours are true. Did you leave him alone to die?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, an ashamed Rogue gazed down at her tennis shoes, suddenly fascinated by the light dirt coated on the white fabric. The sounds of students' voices and the clatter of cutlery from the kitchen joined the awkwardness of the situation. While she frantically searched for a fitting answer to Kitty's question, she wondered whether to run, fight or argue. Eventually, she raised her chin defiantly with a hardened gaze.

"Answer me, Rogue. I want to know why you're a coward. Every student under this roof knows what you are," Kitty said tauntingly, stepping forward and uncrossing her arms. "We deserve to know why you left him to die, and when you tell me, we can fight."

Rogue took a similar step forward and parted her lips to respond, but Logan watched from the kitchen doorway and cleared his throat, breaking up the fight before it had begun. Her eyes darted toward him, and he shook his head at her. Sighing, she wandered to the kitchen, dragging her duffle bag across the floor.

"You want to repeat those words?" he asked Kitty Pryde with a dark gaze. "No, I thought not."

Sitting on the sleek, metal stool by the workbench in the garage, Rogue anxiously swung her duffle bag as she distanced herself from her anxious feelings. Lost in her thoughts, she looked surprised when Logan arrived. She watched him brush a hand through his hair. He glanced at her, and she sighed. "Someone told me you're not supposed to see ninjas," she muttered to him, aiming in his direction as she released her grip on her bag.

He unlocked the SUV and caught the bag in mid-air. "How do you expect me to teach students to fight if they can't see the enemy? And yeah, you're welcome to share that with Victor."

"You can tell me yourself, Jimmy," Victor grumbled from the doorway, Storm at his side.

At this rate, they would never hit the road, Logan thought gruffly, dumping the bags into the trunk. He eyed his brother and then glanced at Storm. She nudged Victor and he grumbled, digging into his pocket, and producing a piece of scrappy paper. He held it up and impatiently waited for it to be taken. "Hurry up. I haven't got all day."

With a raised eyebrow, Logan took it and read over the information. It listed two unfamiliar Canadian addresses in a chicken scratch scrawl. One in British Columbia, and the other in Northern Alberta. "What's this?"

"My way of making things right," he responded and leaned against the workbench with his hands in his pockets.

Rogue gazed thoughtfully at Victor, wandered over to him, and to his dread, hugged him. "Thanks for everything. I've really appreciated your help and advice."

Standing rigid in the face of the affectionate hug, Victor would have welcomed certain death. Half losing the will to live and with no idea what the fuck to do, he looked at Storm. She smiled in encouragement. Grumbling, his hands stayed put in his pockets, and he muttered the first stupid words that stumbled into his empty head. "I don't hate the fridge magnet."

Storm suppressed her slight laughter and said her goodbyes to Rogue. As she watched the girl put her seatbelt on, Logan stopped by the driver's side door and suddenly had a thought worth sharing. He stepped towards the weather goddess and muttered some gossip into her ear he had overheard a good few months ago.

In an utter surprise, Storm's smile faded. Kitty Pryde had done what? "I didn't realise you cared about fairness entwined with disciplinary matters, Logan," she said, shocked by his personal growth. Perhaps he too wished to change for the better.

"I don't," Logan grunted and settled behind the steering wheel. Glancing at Rogue, he turned the key in the ignition and started the engine. She looked distant again. Obviously running from the hurt in her head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Gazing at him, Rogue avoided the main issue and wandered into the tall grass in the back of her mind. When they reached the mansion gates, she talked quietly and shared her deepest, darkest thoughts. "Victor had a son with Mystique. Then they killed him and no one even cares. Look around, everyone acts as if it's normal."

Logan heaved a sigh and typed in the security code. As the gates opened, he returned his grip to the steering wheel. "You ever notice you've got a way with words, kid?"

Alone in the garage, Storm observed Victor's body language. His gaze was as distant as Rogue's. At times, she worried for his sanity, especially after the demise of Graydon. "You're lost in your thoughts again," she said, her fingers brushing against the control panel on the garage wall. "Are you alright?"

Victor immediately eyed her. Determined to appear tougher than he currently felt, he scowled and tensed his muscles. "Yeah."

She instantly knew his single-worded answer was a lie. Brushing the other issues under the carpet, she chose to focus on something he valued. "Is the ice helping with your issues?"

The ice baths had failed to control his aching need for sexual contact with the woman he had taken a strong liking to. "No," he grumbled in response and continued to watch her.

With slight concern showing in her gaze, she pressed a set of buttons, and each door locked securely, shutting them in the garage. "And the meditation hasn't helped either?"

Frowning, he grew more obsessed with her movements when she turned a single light on above the workbench. "No, the meditation hasn't helped."

Storm unbuttoned her blouse at a teasingly sluggish speed as she walked toward him. "We can deal with the security footage afterward."

Victor smirked because he finally corrupted a tiny piece of her. The only time he had known her to break her own moral code of conduct and it was for him and his soaring libido. As she dropped her blouse on the workbench, his hands snaked around her waist. "You owe me a scream," he snarled playfully in her ear.

Time passed relatively slowly in the morning traffic in an unusually busy Westchester. With a final errand to deal with, Logan continuously eyed the sky above them as the cars moved at a snail's pace. Another rare phenomenon lit up the sky and he adverted his eyes. A giant ball of lightning gleamed dangerously amid the cottonlike clouds, temporarily blinding those who stared too long at the wild weather.

Rogue watched it in wonder and blinked dozens of times in rapid succession, searching for the return of her sight. "That's crazy," she murmured, thankful not to learn it signalled the moment Storm had ridden the crescent wave of another fabulous climax.

"Uh-huh," he grunted, at a loss over the weird weather and the slow traffic. He overtook several trucks and turned down an alley in search of a shortcut to the goddamn railway station.

Recognising the building when they eventually parked on the street, she glanced at him in confusion. "What are we doing here?"

With the paperwork in his hands, Logan left the SUV and gave her an annoyed look. "You stay put. I'm gonna pay this goddamn fine. I can't have their letters sent to that false Mississippi address you gave them."

"Sorry," she murmured, unoffended when he shut the door more firmly than he needed to. While she waited, her gaze wandered the street and lingered on the Westchester Library. One, two, three. No, it made little difference to her. If she loosely counted to ignore the sprouting of another idea in her mind, it never worked because she wanted to follow her heart and help Eddie.

Taking the keys from the ignition, she pocketed them and left the SUV. As she rummaged through her duffle bag, she found the leaflet she collected from a women's and children's refuge and pocketed a little extra gift. Spots of warm rain fell to the ground, and she paused for a moment, gazing up at the sky in confusion. Warm rain in winter? The weather remained as puzzled as her mind. Smiling a little, she picked up her pace and walked to the library with her speech already prepared.

Stepping between the revolving door and an elderly woman who wanted nothing from her but to complain about the weather, she smiled politely and wandered inside the quiet building. Her muffled steps echoed on the marble floor, and she climbed the staircase, finding a hiding place behind an endless shelving unit crammed with romance books. As she reached the middle of the aisle, she removed several books to create the perfect spy hole.

Sitting at a table with four superhero comic books open, Eddie practiced his drawing skills on a notepad covered with smudge marks from his blunt charcoal pencils.

Rogue continued to watch the boy as she considered the best way to approach him. Nervously reassessing everything, she was so lost in her thoughts, Jubilation Lee would have stapled a missing person's flyer to her forehead. She almost jumped a full foot in the air when Logan clasped his hand on her shoulder.

He talked gruffly in her ear and tugged her along to the nearest exit. "I told you to stay put."

"No, wait, we can't leave," she pleaded desperately, showing him the domestic violence booklet.

Sighing heavily, he took the paper and gave it the once over as they paused at the end of the romance aisle. He noted the content and looked at her, furrowing his brow. Bobby Drake wasn't the type, but his concern remained.

She studied his face, disappointed he didn't understand what she wanted to do. "Don't you remember? I told you all about it."

"When?" he demanded to know, spotting the packet of charcoal pencils in her gloved hand.

"You were in a coma. I read something that explained people can hear everything around them when they're unconscious, so I told you my plan and you didn't growl. I thought you would agree with me," Rogue said, parting a handful of books beside them.

When she pointed to a table, Logan peered through the hole and eyed her like she had lost her goddamn mind. "We're going back to the car and hitting the road." He guided her gently to the staircase. "C'mon kid, I'm more than willing to fall into another coma if you don't start doing as you're damn well told."

Huffing, she wriggled out of his grip and stared at him. "You didn't hear a word. Every time I shared something with you, I thought I was helping you come home. I hoped you would wake up and help me with this."

With another heavy sigh, he caught the hopeful look on her face. Holding the pamphlet for her to take, he caved in. "You mind refreshing my memory?"

Taking the domestic violence leaflet, Rogue gazed at the boy again. "I'm going to give him these. Ones a gift because I noticed his pencils are almost gone. The other is information that can help him and his mama escape an unhappy home." She glanced at Logan. "You understand, don't you? They live in a scary situation, and I can't just stand here and do nothing. I want to help them but every time I've tried in the last week, he keeps running away or refuses to talk to me."

Logan relented and nodded at her. "Okay, but I'm coming with you," he said because he didn't fully trust the boy with links to the Friends of Humanity. While they walked to the table, he scowled. "This isn't the first time you've pulled a stunt like this?" She refused to look at him. "Marie, that death wish of yours –"

Rogue rolled her eyes and walked away before he even finished his sentence, leaving him to stew and growl to himself a few feet away. She focused on optimistic thoughts and sat opposite the boy.

Eddie instantly stared at her nervously, his eyes flickering from the calmness of her face to the dangerous, glaring man in the leather jacket.

"It's okay, we won't hurt you," she promised with a reassuring smile. Putting the packet of charcoal pencils on the table, she gently pushed them halfway over to him. "I wanted to give you these and ask if maybe you could show me how to draw. I'm terrible, like a garbage can with sticks for fingers when I try to sketch something for art class."

From his spot close by, Logan watched them work silently on a scruffy art piece. Every time he took her somewhere and she showed that compassionate nature of hers, it struck him they were nothing alike. No memories of himself at that age existed in his head, but he couldn't picture a calm scene between the scrappy teen mutant he must have been offering a hand of friendship to a known bigot. Giving her twenty minutes to work her magic, he checked his watch and noticed it was as dead as his relationship with Jean. "Rogue," he called out gruffly and tapped at his wrist.

Sighing, she gazed at Eddie and left her comfortable seat. Pausing for a moment, she placed the domestic violence leaflet down in front of him. "I thought it might help. You know, not all daddies are violent bullies. I had one that ran around with firearms and wore the ugliest suits with ties that always clashed. He liked violence. He loved thinking about it." She smiled sadly at the memory. "Now, things are different. I met my real family, and they can be violent too, but only to people who deserve it." Gazing at him, she began to walk away. "Perhaps you just haven't found your rightful place in the world."

A quiet Eddie watched them leave. He witnessed the man with the leather jacket lose his scowl when the girl reached his side. Maybe that was the real family she talked about? Picking up the leaflet, he read through it, blinking tears away. He never expected anybody to care about him or his troubles at home. His eyes snapped to the portrait they had sketched together. The squiggles and rough shading mapped out the turbulent shape of a guardian angel. Smiling for the first time in months, he leaned backwards in his chair, the legs creaking as he half-balanced against the low wall behind him.

"We can't leave yet," Rogue said when they passed a group of librarians at a counter covered in piles of books.

Logan stopped at the door and watched her approach the cardigan-wearing woman behind the counter. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets impatiently and itched for a smoke. His keen sense of hearing picked up her words and he arched his eyebrow. Tilting his head to the side slightly, he snorted in amusement. She had just thrown him under the bus and he chuckled.

When they eventually left the library, Logan eyed her with amusement again and stopped to light a cigar on the steps outside. "You threw me under the bus, kid."

"Like you threw my library book under the wheels of that truck," she replied, walking ahead. "I can't lie to a librarian."

Wanting to appeal to that religious side of her, he continued to smirk. "They're not nuns."

"I know, didn't you hear the language she used when I explained how you threw the book on the freeway?" She shook her head with a giggle. "I've never heard that many f-words before."

"You've obviously never spent a full hour in Victor's company," he muttered, inhaling the smoke, and feeling a sense of calm as they returned to the SUV. "By the way, they made a mistake on that form at the railway station. It was a one hundred dollar fine."

While she handed him the keys and waited for him to unlock the doors, she remained by the trunk. "Can I ask you something?"

Logan settled behind the steering wheel, not bothering to put his seatbelt on. "Yeah, I expect you to pay me every cent back."

While she opened the trunk and searched through her belongings, gathering the journal pages to one side, she had no trouble finding the gift wrapped in sunshine yellow paper. "That doesn't sound fair but thanks for paying my fine. Don't you realise I didn't do it deliberately? It was an accident."

"That's what they all say when they're caught," he warned her and savoured the scent of the smoke coating the inside of the vehicle.

Shutting the trunk, she opened the gift and gasped excitedly. It was a brand-new edition of Lady Chatterley's Lover. A vibrant orange sticker on the front page with black lettering let her know extra sex scenes were included. Smiling brightly, she binned the gift wrapping and returned to the car. "I don't think you understand, Logan. I ended up on the train because the voices in my head took control."

He looked at her worriedly. "What do you mean?"

As she put her seatbelt on and pulled the car door closed, she set the book down on her lap. "Eddie's the boy we just met inside the library, okay?" He nodded. "Well, his personality in my head took control outside Busterblock and when I fought back, it's like I woke up and looked around, and I was sitting on a train beside Victor cussing someone out. I didn't even buy a ticket; I just opened my eyes on a train with no memory of getting there. Life's strange, isn't it?"

Logan once again failed to understand her. That piece of news should have been the first thing she shared with him and Charles. "Marie," he growled in irritation. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She smiled at him and picked up her book, turning to the first page as she decided to reread it from the beginning. "I don't know, but I probably inherited it from you," she answered back.

Shaking his head, he continued to smoke his cigar and wondered if they should call the trip off. The more he mulled it over with a scowl, he knew she wouldn't be welcome back at the mansion until the unofficial mourning period finished. "Just do me a favour. The next time something like that happens, give me some warning before you take off. That way I can hogtie you to your bed or something."

"Very funny," she replied as she read the first paragraph and chose not to tell him she often had little warning before it happened.

While they drove to the main interstate out of town, Logan glanced at the title of her book. He scowled and pointed his cigar at her. "Is that what I think it is?"

Nodding, she finished reading the first page. "It's a gift from Jubilee. She's kind sometimes, isn't she?"

His eyes narrowed. "You know full well that's not what I meant." After he read the sticker on the front, he rolled his window open and reached for the book. "Give it here."

"Did you know when this book was first released even Canada banned it?" she asked, desperately attempting to keep hold of it while he tried to tug it free of her hands. "Hey, watch out for the vehicle ahead!"

"Like that's gonna work on me," he growled, his eyes snapping to check the road just in case. "Shit." Further curses could be heard when he barely missed the car in front with its hazard lights flashing. Glaring at Rogue, he found somewhere safe to pull over instead, determined he would win this battle of theirs.

"I want to talk about domestic violence," she announced, hugging the book to her. "No, I mean it. I really do. What do you think will happen to Eddie? I hope he follows the advice and chooses to live somewhere safe."

Heaving a sigh, Logan cut the engine for a moment and inhaled a lungful of smoke. He watched the houses around them and could see wasteland in the distance. On the edge of Westchester, his only hope was they would make good time before nightfall. "Look, it's not as simple as that, kid. You know that saying about leading a horse to water and that you can't force it to take a drop?" She nodded and he hoped she stayed clear of those goddamn Pigeon River memories. "People in those situations see things differently and it makes it difficult for them to walk away. Punching somebody in a fight isn't the same as beating your wife or kid. Being around that kind of environment changes things and not for the good. Once you're caught up in it, it's hard to outrun and even harder to stand up for yourself."

"How do you know that?" she asked him, hoping Eddie would be okay.

"I don't know," he answered honestly and held his hand out for the book. "Just try to see things my way, okay? I'm trying to protect you."

She giggled at him with a faint blush on her cheeks. "From lovemaking scenes inside a book? Don't be silly."

He wasn't about to discuss her obsession with sexual paragraphs. It made him uncomfortable, and he looked away from her.

Giggling again, she opened the first page of the book. "The story's about Constance Reid. She's married to a rich guy, and they live in comfort, but something is missing from her life, so she searches for it, and finds what she needs in the arms of the gamekeeper."

Suddenly growling, those words jolted a long-forgotten memory in Logan's mind. He recalled images of a woman dressed in a long white gown seeking sanctuary with a burly gamekeeper in Northern Alberta. It looked like something out of the Victorian period, and he pictured himself as a small boy wondering why the woman kept sneaking about in the dead of night. Furrowing his brow, he finished smoking his cigar and snatched the book from her gloved hands. He tossed it out of the window and locked the doors before she had the chance to retrieve it from the dirt.

"Now you listen to me, Marie," he told her gruffly, watching her hand abandon its grip on the door handle. "You sit there, and you stay the hell away from all that trouble you constantly sniff out."

She watched him with a sigh and crossed her arms. "That was a gift from Jubilee and you're overreacting."

"I don't care," he answered, rolling up his window and turning the keys in the ignition. "I'm doing everything I can to keep those feet of yours on the ground."

A silent Rogue gazed at the passing scenery as they drove toward the Canadian border. She wished Logan would stop calling her Marie, but also knew he believed her mutant name had never suited her. Shaking her head, she glanced at him. He almost looked like a lost little boy until he glared at her. "I'm not sorry," she said gently. "I love that book and that's never going to change."

"Uh-huh," Logan grunted and watched the road ahead.

While Rogue remained curious about the source of his irrational anger, he continued to be frustrated at her willingness to tag along with that woman in the white gown. They both looked at the traffic, spotting squabbling families travelling together. For once in their lives, they perfectly belonged with those around them.

Their long journey continued north, but at the spot where Lady Chatterley's Lover lay abandoned on the ground, a figure appeared and crouched with a relieved smile. She picked up the book and brushed the patches of dirt from the cover. Checking the strange, hissing watch on her wrist, she wanted to tell you a tale of time travel wrapped in mystery, blackmail, deceit, and love. "Because my name's Rogue, and if this was a story, the ending is every bit as odd as the beginning, but the sequel is going to take some time to explain." She giggled at her silliness as she settled down on the raised kerb. At peace under the winter sun, she smiled as she opened her favourite book to page two.

A/N: Logan and Rogue will return in the sequel, An Illustrated Book About Birds. Thank you to everyone who has followed along, reading each chapter. I have really enjoyed writing this story and cannot wait to get started on the sequel because can anyone else picture Remy LeBeau playing strip poker?