Wolverine's Rogue
Chapter 1
by
Barbara Metzger
Author's Note: Well, after a long time I finally put to words what I've had sitting on the cobwebby shelf...haha... ...and after seeing the movie for the 5th time I had to give Logan his chance at getting the last word with a surprise character. You'll see...
Rogue glowered down at the ground and plodded onward. She was tired and cold and hungry. Although a pale sun was shining directly overhead, the curving path had brought her into the shadow of yet another snow-covered peak, and to the north lay a solid mass of dark clouds.
It didn't really occur to her that she might be lost until the wind started to pick up and the heavy bank of clouds that had been hovering far to the north that morning moved in directly overhead, blocking out the pale sun and filling the whole sky with an ominous dark gray canopy.
How far had she come by herself? Are you talking about the path or yourself Rogue? It's been a long 6 weeks since he left. Damn you. Why did I have to fall for you?
She knew why. She knew, and he was going to know himself before she was finished with him. When she found him, that was. You must have strong feelings for me. Otherwise you wouldn't have had to run away from me. I know you better than you think Logan. I know why...you run.
By now a veritable blizzard swirled around her, and she could barely see her hand in front of her face. At the top of a small knoll, she stopped and started to call for help. She stood there and shouted until she was hoarse, but the driving snow only muffled her cries.
I'm going to die! She thought in a sudden panic. I'm going to wander around until I drop, then just lie down and freeze to death. No. Keep moving. I've got to keep moving.
With blind instinct, she plunged forward. Just as she thought she might never find him, a looming shape appeared directly before her. Head on.
He stood with his legs spread wide apart, hands down to his side, clenched, and his head, tilted down and just to the left, glaring at her from beneath dark brows and darker eyes. Logan.
Immediately her foot came up against a large hard rock, invisible under it's white covering. A sharp, searing pain jabbed up her right leg from her ankle, and just before loosing consciousness, she felt herself falling, falling.
When she first came too, the first sensation that gripped her was the agonizing pain in her leg, the second that she was being carried, jostled along unceremoniously, each jolt sending a new shaft of fire through her injured leg.
She opened her eyes and looked up to see, looming above her, a grim face framed with a thick head of tousled dark hair that naturally swept up on either side, and covered his ears and the back of his neck. His heavy black sidechops dotted with snowflakes, his eyes narrowed into slits, an angry determined set to his hard jaw. He was not happy.
Finding her searching his face for something he didn't care to show, Logan muttered a curse and tightened his grip on her and continued on without a word.
After a while he slowed his pace, and when Rogue cautiously opened her eyes again they were approaching a rough wooden cabin.
He kicked the door open and stepped inside into blessed warmth. He nudged the door shut with his shoulder, then stalked across the room and set her down on her feet. She cried out, her injured leg buckling under her weight, and started to fall. He reached out for her before she hit the floor and guided her, limping, to a chair.
When the pain had diminished, she looked at Logan. He stood silently before her, glaring down at her warily. 'Just what the hell do you think you're doin' out here alone?' he bit out angrily. 'II needed to find you, and I guess I got lost,' she said in a small voice, 'I couldn't find the path, and then I hurt my leg and--'
'Lord. Didn't anyone warn you that there are grizzly bears, or worse, out there just waiting for stupid little girls like you to disturb them?' he thundered, 'Do you have any idea what a grizzly can do to a face like yours with one swipe of its paw. You might have killed it but do you think for one second, you'd be healing your wounds by yourself? And surviving?'
'Well, I'm sorry!' she cried. "I just needed to find you. I feel so alone sometimes. I needed to talk to--'
'How the hell did you find---I suppose they found me for you.' Logan looked down for the first time and noticed that she was wearing his dogtag.
'I told you I would be back.' She thought she saw his eyes soften but he was volatile and she couldn't be sure. 'I told you I would be back. I made you a promise.' She turned her head away, 'I thought you'd be glad to see me, like when you came after me" He took a step toward her menacingly, 'Damn it!' he snarled. 'Try to get this through your head, where I'm goin' you can't go.'
She met his eyes and wearily said, 'I'm getting sick of being yelled at. Take me back if you're so sick of me, I can--'
Rogue heard a low growl come from deep within. His face was livid, his eyes burned with fire, and she cowered back from him in the chair and gazed at him wide-eyed. 'I can't take you back!' he shot back.
He dropped his hands to his side and glared down at her. 'There's no way we could get fifty feet in this blizzard, much less the five miles back to the main road. I'm stuck with you.'
Eyeing him, she rose unsteadily to her feet, testing her weight on the injured leg. It didn't seem quite so bad now. She began to inch her way towards the door, hanging on to furniture for support.
He folded his arms across his chest and watched her. 'And just where do you think you're going, darlin'?' he inquired.
'I'm leaving,' she announced in her loftiest tone. 'And don't try to stop me.' He dipped his dark head and made a sweeping gesture with one hand, 'I wouldn't dream of it,' he said. 'Please. Be my guest.'
For a long moment they simply stood there staring at each other. There was utter silence in the room, with only the crackling of the fire in the stone hearth and the wind outside to break the stillness. Finally, Rogue's shoulders sagged and she slowly made her way back to the chair.
Then it began. Tears of self-pity welled up behind her eyes. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He had turned away from her, and she watched as he shed his heavy lined jacket, He wore worn jeans and a red plaid woolen shirt. Then, ignoring her completely, he sat down in a chair and began to take off his boots.
Rogue glanced around the cabin. It was built of rough-hewn logs with patches of white plaster filling in the chinks. A fire was blazing in the stone fireplace. At one end was an open window, and beneath it a counter covered with cans of food and what looked like a hotplate. There was a table at one end made of unfinished wood, a hurricane lamp set on top of it.
At the other end of the room was a narrow bed, neatly made and covered with animal furs and a beautiful Indian blanket. Next to it sat a desk, piled high with books and papers. The two of them were sitting on the only chairs, but there was a shabby couch set directly in front of the fireplace
Rogue glanced back at Logan. He had risen from the chair and was standing at the counter by the window, bent over, lighting the hotplate. He was ignoring her presence entirely; she wasn't used to that from him. 'Looks like you've learned how to pick up after yourself.' She said under her breath but just loud enough for him to hear.
Without a word he continued puttering with the stove, until he had it adjusted to his satisfaction. Then he turned slowly around and leaned against the counter.
His jaw ticked. 'I have things I have to do,' he gritted through his teeth. 'And the last thing I need is to have you on my hands. You don't look after me, I look after you. You're not safe here.' He almost said, 'with me,' but stopped himself just in time. 'Why do you think I left ya back there?' I'm always safe with you.
He turned back to the pan of water he had sat on the stove. It began to boil. She sank down on the hard chair and watched him with her luminous eyes as he leaned over to turn down the burner. Then he straightened up, reached into the cupboard and took down two tin mugs.
All his movements were graceful and controlled, with no wasted or clumsy motion. There was an air of certainty about him, as though he always knew exactly what he was doing and planned every step carefully before he acted.
He hadn't changed. She shivered, realizing that her senses were full of the man. His bulk. His dark hair, which had looked like horns, now looked storm-tousled. He radiated strength, his chest and shoulders broad under a heavy shirt. His hips, thighs, and legs hard and well formed in the worn jeans. He was attractive, Rogue thought, if it weren't for the nasty disposition. Even that hadn't really changed. Still angry at anything and everyone.
Exhausted from her ordeal on the mountainside, her sore leg still throbbing, she felt her eyes grow heavy, her head nodding, and then only blackness.
Logan darted a quick glance at Rogue's sleeping silhouette, long gloved arms hugged around her. With heightened senses he could hear her slow breath in the dead silence of the dim room, almost feel the warmth of her body. He could smell her.
He gazed at her for some moments, debating within himself. Finally, he heaved a sigh and carefully levered her out of the chair and onto his bed.
A faint inner voice warned him that if he didn't send her back to the Institute soon, he was fast on the way to getting in over his head.
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