Wolverine's Rogue
Chapter 2
by
Barbara Metzger
When she came to, she was lying on top of the narrow bed. Her jacket and boots had been removed, and she was loosely covered with the Indian blanket. She raised her head and looked around groggily.
He was sitting at the desk, just beyond the foot of the bed; his elbow propped up, his shaggy head resting on his fist. Occasionally he would frown.
There was the distinct aroma of food in the air, and, in spite of her anxiety over the predicament, the lingering wariness of this silent, menacing man, Rogue's stomach began to churn with hunger. She'd had nothing to eat since the day before.
As though sensing that she was watching him, Logan turned his head abruptly and stared at her through half-closed eyes. She silently met his steady, wordless gaze.
He suddenly shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. He spread his arms and stretched widely, flexing his back muscles, clenching and unclenching his fingers. He looked good enough to--what??? What are you thinking, he doesn't even want you. He turned away and ambled over to the stove, where he began to stir something in a pot sitting there.
Still eyeing him warily, Rogue slowly rose up to a sitting position. 'I'm very hungry,' she said stiffly. 'Could I please have something to eat?'
'Sure, he replied. Without turning around, he kept on with his stirring. 'Thank you,' she said.
'What is it, it smells wonderful?' she asked, absently pulling at the pilling on the blanket. 'Meat, fresh meat.' He said stirring, 'boiled down with other things.' He turned and smiled darkly. Very funny, play it up. She waited while he ladled out whatever was in the pan into a dish.
Without even glancing her way, he made straight for his desk, sat down and started shoveling in the food. Rogue's mouth fell open. All she could do was stare at him.
'Don't I get any?' she sputtered at last. He glanced over at her and waved his fork in the direction of the stove. 'Help yerself.'
Rogue opened her mouth to argue, but when he swiveled around in his chair to glower over at her she snapped it shut tight and rose to her feet.
Ugh, my leg. It still hurt, but it probably wasn't broken. She found that by dragging it behind her and hanging on to furniture as she went she actually could make it over to the counter. Conscious of his silent appraisal every step of the way, she was torn between showing him how capable she really was, how little she needed his help, and limping a little more than she really needed to just to make him feel ashamed of himself for the shabby way he was treating her.
When she finally arrived at the stove and gazed down into the pan, she wrinkled her nose in distaste when she saw the soggy mass of what looked like beans and half-cooked meat lying inside. Still, it smelled good. She grabbed a plate and dished up a glop of stew.
It wasn't a gourmet dish by any means, but as it went down it seemed like the best meal she'd ever eaten. It's amazing what hunger can do.
Sighing with satisfaction, she limped her way over to the couch and sat down in front of the fire, where she wasn't facing Logan directly, but could see him out of the corner of her eye.
She stared at him for what seemed like hours. He was deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Obviously at war with himself. A piece of his dark hair hung down in his face, and she fought down a sudden impulse to reach over and brush it away.
Suddenly, he rose to his feet and pointed at the lumpy couch. 'That's where you sleep,' he announced in a tone of utter finality.
'I can't sleep there!' she cried. 'Well, somebody has to,' he shot back at her. 'And it ain't gonna be me.' He grinned maliciously. 'Unless you intend to share the bed.' He glanced down at it. 'It's a little narrow, but we could probably manage.'
Take a chance Rogue. 'I'll take the bed...Logan.' She said softly as she walked to the edge of his bed. With her gloved hand she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and trailed her silk clad fingers over the lines that were etched into his skin. He growled. A deeper, smoother growl than before. Her body tensed. For one brief moment their eyes met, and for the first time she noticed that his eyes had an odd intensity. Sensual. Feral. 'Don't start something you don't intend to finish,' he ground out between clenched teeth. She quickly turned away. Coward.
With a silent curse she snatched up his pillow, daring him to say a word, and went over to the couch. Before settling herself, she glanced at him again. He was still standing there, his hands across his chest, watching her.
'I assume you have extra blankets,' she asked sarcastically. 'Or did you plan on whipping out your claws and cutting the one on your bed in half so we could share that too?'
To her amazement, he threw back his head and laughed, this time with genuine amusement. When he looked at her again, his mouth still twitching, his face was transformed. The hard lines were gone, and, although the chops and long hair still gave him a forbidding air, Rogue caught a glimpse of her old Logan laying beneath the rough exterior.
He grabbed a blanket from a chest under the bed and threw it to her. He shook his head. 'You're an exasperating woman, darlin'. Now, get to bed and don't bother me no more.'
Too tired to think of a clever retort, Rogue settled herself on the lumpy couch with as much dignity as she could muster and covered herself with the blanket. It was warm in front of the fire and she fell almost immediately into a sound sleep.
That night, the dream came again. The air was filled with muffled sounds. A man's face loomed in front of him. Slowly his body went numb. 'Is he ready?' asked a voice. He dropped to his knees. His ears hurt with noise. An awful noise. Why wouldn't it stop? A scream. The sound became a gurgle.
Something hit the side of his head. He fell forward into a swirling mass of red-tinged blackness.
The scene blended into some sort of lab. He searched the room. Faces...all featureless. Then one took on definition --dark, grinning, evil. It expanded, looming over him like a menacing shadow. It's features contorted in rage...then, searing pain hit his body. Grrraaaghh!!!...he felt his fists clench and pain...*SNIKT*...arrghhh!!!
'Aarrghhh!!!! No! No!' Rogue thrashed. Suddenly she bolted upright, heart pounding, and a cry still on her lips.
'You're safe, Rogue. You're awake.' 'No! No! Get away!' she rolled away, desperate for escape. 'Rogue, it's me, Logan.' That voice...Logan? 'Oh God, Logan' she took a deep, trembling breath. She moaned, hugging her arms to her body in a tight, protective knot. The dreams. The fear. Would it never stop? 'I told you, you were in my head,' she whispered to him.
'I didn't realize you absorbed so much from me' He didn't loosen his grip. What have I done? He rubbed his face, hearing the rasp of whiskers, feeling the rough scrape against his palms. Logan had stopped seeking comfort long ago. Just as he'd learned to face the monsters in his own darkness. Now, his haunted thoughts and memories were hers as well and he felt an immense pain in his heart. Slowly he turned to face Rogue. He held her close with her head against his chest, careful to avoid skin to skin contact. 'Damn,' he whispered, rubbing his forehead. He pulled a hand in front of him and stared. His fingers started to shake. 'Damn.'
All references to characters belonging to the X-Men Universe are (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities. All rights reserved. Any reproduction, duplication or distribution of these materials in any form is expressly prohibited. No money is being made from this archive. All images are also (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities; they are not mine. This website, its operators and any content used on this site relating to the X-Men are not authorized by Marvel, Fox, etc. I am not, nor do I claim to be affiliated with any of these entities in any way.