Yes, I know I have two uncompleted series out there, and I will
finish them, I promise.  I just needed something light.

Title: Rogue's Day Off
Author: Khaki
Email: rimmette@...
Category: General/Humor
Disclaimer: If I owned them, would I be writing fan fic?
Archive Rights: XMMFFC.  Otherwise, just ask.
Author's Notes: This takes place shortly after the end of the movie.
Can you tell I need a holiday?
Summary: What does Rogue do when she needs a vacation?

*****

Marie woke out of a dead sleep when a pillow slammed into her head.

"Up and at 'em, Rogie," an irritatingly chipper Jubilee sing-songed.

Marie groggily cracked open her eyes to see her yellow-attired
roommate turn back to applying make-up, then closed her eyes again.
She'd had a horrible night, besieged by not only Logan's but also
Erik's nightmares.  In fact, she'd only been able to fall asleep an
hour before now.

"C'mon, sleepy head," Jubilee said, yanking off Marie's cocooning
blankets and leaving her exposed to the cool air of the room.  "We've
got poetry recitals in English and a history midterm.  You can't lie
in bed all day."

But that's exactly what Marie wanted to do.  She was too tired to go
to classes today.  In fact, she was too tired to even bother living
today.  She mumbled that sentiment to Jubilee as she buried her face
back down into the pillow.

Jubilee was relentless.  She opened the curtains, allowing sunlight
to beam onto Marie's face, and then turned the radio on full-blast.
If Marie was going to get any rest, she needed to take drastic
measures.

Closing her eyes and concentrating, Marie spoke to the males who
outnumbered her in her head.  Logan was strongest, but Erik and David
were well represented.  After eight months, David was comfortably
established in the back of her mind, but Logan and Erik were new and
didn't get along.  They'd settled into an uneasy truce for sanity's
sake, but neither of them were too happy to be sharing such close
quarters.  None of them liked being so strongly reigned in by Marie,
either, so she figured they'd all benefit by her little idea.

'I need a break,' Marie thought to them.  'I'm going to take it.  You
need a little bit of freedom.  I'm going to give it to you.  Logan,
you get 7 a.m. to 10 a.m.  Erik, you get 10 a.m. to 1 p.m.  David,
you get 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.  I'll take over after school.  Sound good to
everyone?'

At their mental agreement, she thought, 'Good, I'm gone,' and escaped
into her memories.

She remembered a day spa she'd gone to with Emily for her birthday
about a year ago.  They'd been completely pampered all day and Marie
wanted to experience it again.  She smiled when she opened her eyes
to see Em's smiling face.

"Oh, Marie, this is so exciting.  I love your Mom."

"Isn't she great?" Marie enthused.  A day of pampering and then a
night of partying.  Who could imagine a better sweet sixteen present?

Marie soaked in a mud bath, basked in the textures of an exfoliating
facial massage, felt every last muscle surrender to relaxation under
a masseuse's skillful hands.  It was everything she needed.  Months
on the road, relentless interior voices, terrifying death threats,
painful machines, all of those memories faded into the background as
she succumbed to the pleasant sensations.

Before she knew it, it was 4 p.m. and time to take back control of
her body.  When she did, she found herself restrained to a bed in a
metal room.

"What the hell?" she said, pulling at the padded leather restraints
without success.

"Help!" she yelled, pulling at them harder.

Jean walked over and looked down at her with undisguised pity.

"Just calm down," she said in a slow, easy voice.  "You're safe.
Everything's going to be ok."

"Jean, let me outta these," Rogue demanded.  "What's going on?  How
did I get in the Med Lab?"

"Rogue?" That was Jubilee's voice.  Yep, there she was, coming up on
the other side.  "Is it really you?"

Marie rolled her eyes at her friend's question.  "Of course it's me.
Who else..."  Then, she realized what must have happened.  "What did
they do?" she asked.

"Rogue," Jean said, now coming to understand that the girl was back
in control.  "I'm going to release the restraints now, but you can't
leave yet.  I need to observe you a little longer."

"Anything, Jean, just take 'em off." Marie answered, eager to be free.

Jean did as she said, and Marie sat up on the bed, folding her legs
underneath her.

"Ok, Jubes, spill it."

Jubilee sighed and started her story.

"I think Logan took over first.  You growled at me when I got you out
of bed, and you refused to wear anything remotely stylish, pulling on
a black T-shirt and your gardening jeans.  You even started to leave
without doing anything to your hair, and when I insisted you fix it
up a little, you stuffed it into a hat and called it good."

Marie groaned, but let her roommate continue.

"The real clue was at breakfast.  You had ham, eggs, bacon, sausage.
Girl, I think you took out an entire farm in one sitting."

'Logan!' Marie mentally reprimanded.

~Sorry, darlin', I was hungry.  You don't let us eat much.~

"Anyway, I think English class was the most interesting," Jubilee
continued.

"I didn't."

"Oh, yeah, you did.  When Mr. Summers told you to get up and recite
your poem, we heard all about a girl from Nantucket."

"No!  Logan!"

Logan retreated to the back of her mind, escaping her mental lashing.

"Yeah, you were acting real weird.  Just sat in the back for the rest
of the class smoking a cigar and making comments about the poems."

"What else did Logan do?"

"That's about the worst he got.  Well, besides flirting with Dr. Grey
all through biology."

Marie groaned.  Great just great.  You take off one day and
everything falls apart.

"Logan left about midmorning and then Magneto took over.  He was...
interesting."

"Erik?  What did he do?"

"Well, you know how we had that history exam?"

"Yes," Marie drew out the word into a sentence.

"You finished in about fifteen minutes, and spent the rest of the
time criticizing Miss Munroe's questions and teaching a bare bones
history of oppression and how we mutants must fight against the
majority for our very survival."

"No."

"And then, in physics, you called the professor 'Charles' and told
him that he was a fool for believing that humans would ever accept
us.  Oh, and then you took over the lesson."

"What?"

"Yeah, taught us all about magnetic fields with visual aids and
everything.  Thanks, by the way.  All that magnetism wiped my English
paper off my computer disk."

"Sorry, Jubes.  It wasn't me."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't the worst.  You left lunch early and were
standing bare ass naked in front of the full length mirror when I got
to the locker room for gym."

"What?!?"

"Yeah you kept staring at yourself until we started changing.  Then,
you just sat on a bench and watched while we changed.  It was really
creepy, Rogue.  When you pulled out a camera, we called Dr. Grey."

"David!" Marie yelled.  "You little pervert!"

She could feel David's presence retreating to his usual place in the
outer realms of her mind as she fumed at him.

"Dr. Grey and the professor both scanned you and said they couldn't
feel you in there, so they called Logan."

"What?  Why'd they call Logan?"

"We thought he'd be able to draw you out of whatever fugue state
you'd fallen into," Jean answered, coming back into the conversation.

"Oh no," Marie groaned.

"You have to understand, Rogue.  We thought there was something
terribly wrong with you," Jean explained.

"I was on vacation," Marie muttered.

"What?" Jubilee and Jean asked simultaneously.

"Vacation.  Everything's happened to me so fast and with all these
nightmares making it hard to sleep, I needed a break."

"So you went on vacation," Jubilee repeated, "in your mind?"

"Seemed like the perfect place at the time," Marie turned to
Jean.  "Can't you call Logan off?"

"He's probably well on his way by now.  You could talk to the
professor..."

"I'll do that," Rogue said, scooting off the medical bed and walking
towards the door.

"Rogue?" Jubilee said.

"Yeah?"

"Clothes."

Marie looked down to find herself clothed in knee-length, open-at-the-
back hospital gown.  Looking up at Jubilee, she asked, "Bare ass
naked?"

"Yep."

"Dammit, David.  I am so gonna get you."

If it was possible, David retreated further into her subconscious.

Once she was dressed in dirty, grassed stained jeans and her
oversized black T-shirt, she walked to the professor's office
accompanied by Jubilee and Jean.  It seemed like they were afraid to
let her out of their sight.

She didn't bother knocking, just opened to the door to the
professor's office and said, "Professor, could you find Logan and
tell him..."

Her sentence trailed off as she saw the man sitting in one of the
plush visitor's chairs.

"Tell me what, kid?"

"Logan.  Wha... what are you doing here?"

"Was in Toronto when I heard you were in trouble."

"Not in trouble," Marie corrected.  "Just taking a break."

"A break?"

"I... I just needed... well, a vacation, you know?  From class and
stuff."

'Great, Marie,' she berated herself.  'Show off that amazing
vocabulary.'

"Well, I was thinking of taking a break, too," Logan answered.

"You were?"

"Yeah, was just talking with the professor about it.  Why don't you
and I take a break together?"

"What? On the road?"

"Nah, here.  Just hang out, talk," he shrugged.  "Relax."

"That sounds really great, but," Marie looked up at the
professor.  "what about class?  I thought you wanted..."

"This is about what you need, Rogue, not what I want," he reassured
her.  "You can pursue a GED when you're ready.  Plenty of students
have done it before."

"Yeah?" she asked with a smile.  The first strain-free smile she'd
had in months.  "Yeah, I'd like that.  Just a month or so to get
settled.  That'd be great."

Then her smile faltered, "But, Logan, you don't have to stay
here 'cause of me.  I'll be fine."

"Why d'ya think I was in Toronto, kid?  Didn't find anything in
Alberta.  I was heading back here."

"Really?  Ok, yeah." Marie smiled again, ready for a real vacation.

*****

The End.

Title: I'm Home
Series: 6/?
Author:  Melissa Richardson
Email: Ritz1503@...
Rating: NC-17. smut girls and lots of it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Just really love Logan and Marie
Feedback: Please...But be kind it is my first story.
Summary: Logan and Marie make love for the first
Comments: Thanks to Karen for beta reading. ** Logan's thoughts. ****
Marie's thoughts. <> A remembered conversation.

	 Marie woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the
open curtains and the delicious smell of coffee. After taking a moment
to stretch out some kinks, she got up.
She looked around the room, finding her luggage by the door, she
unpacked her clothes. Yawning, she looked down at herself, deciding
that a hot shower was in order.
	 The bathroom was impressive. The room was decorated in a
country blue and white tiles. Across the room and in front a picture
window was a sunken tub. From the tub you could look out the window
and get a prefect view of the lake. Next to the tub and taking up part
of the wall was a large shower and on the other side of the shower was
a toilet.Across from the shower was a counter with two sinks, a
gigantic mirror hung over the sinks give Marie a view of the whole
room without moving. Next to the doorway was a closet, upon opening it
she found freshly washed towels on the first shelf, soaps and scented
bubble bath on the other shelf. A laundry basket sat at the bottom
waiting for dirty clothes to fill it.
	 After setting the water temperature for the shower, Marie
quickly shed her clothes and stepped into the running water.  With a
sigh she begin to bathe. The feel of the hot water was wondrous on her
tense muscles.This vacation was something she really needed, being
with Logan was definitely a bonus and she felt better knowing that
Logan did have some feelings for her.
	 In the kitchen, Logan could hear the shower running. He wished
that he could join Marie in the shower, but remembering his promised
that he would go slow,  settled for  imagining what it would be like
to be with her.

{Water streaming down her body, making her all pink and inviting.
Nipples perk and begging for his attention. He wouldn't be able to
stop himself from suckling on one, while one of his hands found its
way to the other. Logan could almost her moan and beg for more
attention. All too soon, he'd have her up against a wall, those long
legs wrapped around his hips as he slowly thrust into her making her
cry out HIS name.}

"Hey, what you doing?"

	 Logan nearly jumped out of his skin, he was so deep in thought
over the female standing before him.

  "Just wondering what you would like for breakfast, darling." He lied.

	 He watched as she walked up to him ,wrapped her arms around
his neck. and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"So, I guess you weren't thinking any lusty thoughts?"  Marie asked as
her hands skimmed across his crotch making him groan with want.

"Marie." Logan said warningly.

"Mmmm, sure feels like you were." Marie  whispered softly in his ear,
before tenderly taking the lobe in her mouth, and sucking on it.

	 A low growl was the only warning she had before she was picked
up and set on the kitchen counter. Lips hot with need slide across
hers, the nip of teeth at her bottom lip made her open her mouth and
with a moan, she felt Logans tongue slide against hers. Logan's hands
were busy caressing her back and hips, pulling her closer to his body.
Responding eagerly, she returned his kisses..
	 During their kiss, Marie hands hadn't stopped their
exploration. She found that the hair covering his bare chest was silky
to the touch. His small brown nipples caught her attention, lightly
she traced them, feeling the slight roughness that was different from
the rest of his skin. Gently she stroke one nipple, the jerk of his
hips into hers only made her want to explore him more. She let her
hands wander his chest, following the narrow path of hair that
disappear into the waist band of his boxers.

"God,baby. You're driving me crazy." Logan said, trying to stay in
control.

	 Slowly he stepped away from her. Both of them were breathing
hard. Logan felt male pride at the sight before him, Marie was flushed
a bright pink. Her hair was in disarray from where his hands had run
through it. The sight of her lips red and swollen from his kisses only
made him want to kiss her more. Taking a breath, he willed his body to
calm down before he lost control, and made love to Marie right where
she was sitting.

Which wouldn't be right, because it would be fast and hard instead of
slow and loving.

"I'm sorry, Logan.. I shouldn't had done that to you." Marie said,
suddenly feeling ashamed at how she threw herself at him.

"No, darling, don't be sorry." Logan replied, feeling like an ass for
forcing himself on her like he did. "Anytime you feel like touching
me, you just go ahead. I don't mind one bit." Logan said to her. "Now,
what would you like for breakfast?"

	 With a sigh, Marie regarded the man before her. How Logan had
managed to maintain control was beyond her. Normally, he would have
had any woman screaming his name by now. Knowing that he cared for her
enough to take it slow, touched her deeply. Now if she could just keep
from throwing herself at him at every opportunity.

"I guess eggs and toast would be nice." Marie said before kissing him
softly on the cheek and heading for the refrigerator. **Might as well
make it. It well give me something to do.**

	 Logan watched her fix their meal. He wouldn't have minded
helping her, but he had a feeling she wanted to do it all herself.
*I'll make lunch for her later.* He decided with a smile.

"So, what you going to do today?" He asked, as he made her a cup of
coffee.

"Mm, don't know. What you going to do?"

"Well, it's warm enough outside, we could go fishing, if you like." He
replied glancing at her as she eat.

"You fish, I think I'll work on my tan." She told him wrinkling her
nose at him.

Logan shrugged his shoulders at her. "Fine with me."

	 After finishing their meal, Marie went upstairs to change
while Logan went to the shed behind the cabin to get the necessary
things to fish with. The pier was twenty feet from the back door
making it easy for a vacationer to move back and forth from cabin to
lake with no problems. Making himself comfortable on the pier, he
waited for Marie to come down from changing. *Tan, tan that would
require a.......oh, shit!!*  His thought never got finished because of
the vision walking towards him. Third time in Logan's life he was
shocked speechless. Marie was wearing what had to be the tiniest dark
green bikini that Logan had ever seen. Her ample breasts were scarcely
covered by two small triangles of fabric that were held in place by
thin straps. An even smaller triangle of fabric barely concealed her
sex, the thin straps looping over her hips, showing Logan how tiny her
waist was.

"I guess you like my bikini?" Marie asked smiling at him. Thrown over
her arm was a towel and in the same hand was a bottle of lotion. "Care
to help me, sugar?"

	 Swallowing Logan watched as she laid down on her stomach and
untied the back of the bikini. Logan had done a lot of things in his
life, but nothing was as sensual as spreading lotion into the skin of
the woman laying in front of him. Slowly he worked the lotion into her
back. He couldn't help but smirk at the groan he heard coming from
her. Gradually he worked his way down her body. The lotion made her
skin feel even softer and the coconut scent mingled with her scent
nicely.

"Thank you." Marie whispered. She felt warm, utterly relaxed under
Logans' strong hands.

"Anytime, darling." Logan answered to the already slumbering woman.

	 For over an hour Logan spent time watching Marie and fishing.
He was glad it wasn't terribly hot, or she would burn easily with her
fair skin. Of course, he almost choked on his beer when she rolled
over in her sleep and her top fell off exposing her generous breasts.

"Marie, baby. You got wake up."

"Uh?"

"Sweetheart, you rolled over and your top is...off. I don't mind the
view but you might burn." Logan said leaning over her.

"Well, I guess you could put lotion on me. That is, if it's okay with
you?" Marie replied, before she yawned.

	 *Damn, damn. What to do.* Finally he decided. Picking up the
lotion he squirted a small amount in his hand, then gently started
rubbing it into her skin. Nothing turned him on as much as feeling her
nipples harden under his fingers. His fingers wandered down from her
chest to her flat stomach then to the dip that lead to her pelvis,
leisurely brushing under the edge of the bikini. Logan closed his eyes
and moaned as he felt the soft curls.
	 Marie arched her hips slightly as she felt him touch her
mound. She watch him caress her and heard as he moaned. Drawing a
breath, she gently moved her hand over his and pushed it farther down,
until he was touching her slit.
	 Startled, Logan open his eyes to find Marie watching him as
she moved his hand farther under her bathing suit. He felt the heat
and wetness seeping from her and suddenly knew what she wanted.
Carefully, he slipped his fingers even farther down, finding her
entrance he gently slipped a finger in.

"Oh, Logan." He heard her moan as he slowly pumped his fingers in and
out of her.

	 Suddenly, Logan couldn't take it any more.Marie gasped as she
heard him snarl and watched him rip the bikini off her. Opening her
legs wider, he laid down between her thighs, groaniing as her scent
filled every fiber of his being. With an animal growl of pure want, he
dipped his mouth to her pussy, and got his first taste of her juices.
Marie shuddered as she felt him taste her nectar.

"God, baby. You taste so good. You have no idea how long I've want to
do this to you." She heard him say right before she felt him close his
mouth over her clit and tenderly begin to suck it.

"Uuuhh God, Logan. Please!!" She screamed as the pleasure stormed over
her in waves as she climaxed.

"What, darling? Tell me want you need." Logan said, as he crawled the
length of her body, then kissing her soundly on the mouth.

"You. I want you." Marie replied, breathlessly after he had kissed
her.

Logan picked her up and carried her into the cabin. Gently he sat her
on the bed.

"Are you sure, Marie?"

"Please, Logan.." Marie said, blushing at how bold she suddenly felt.
	 Logan groaned at her words. Swiftly he took his boxers off,
all the while watching her for any fears.
	 Watching him undress, Marie knew that she wanted him, and only
him. She hadn't felt for anyone like she did for Logan. The sight of
his naked and obviously aroused body should of scared her, but she
loved and trust him completely.
	 Logan laid down on the bed next Marie and gently pulled her
into his arms. It was suddenly very important for him to stay in
control and make her first time with him very special and not
something she would regret in the future.
	 Her mouth was something he couldn't resist, he loved the taste
of her. Gently he kissed her, or at least he tried to be gentle but he
found it almost impossible when she pressed herself closer and
returned his kisses more strongly than she had earlier that day. And
he couldn't stop the buck of his hips when she threw one of her legs
over his thighs, bringing his cock so very close to where he wanted to
be.

"Easy, darling. We have all time in the world." He whispered hoarsely,
as he fought to maintain control.

	 More gently then ever before, Logan started to kiss her. First
he started at her right wrist and worked his way up her arm, reaching
the crook of her arm he carefully sucking on the sensitive skin,
grinning, as he listened to her moan his name. Continuing up her arms
with small kisses, he finally reached her shoulders, where he licked
his way to her neck. Earlier he had  found a tender spot on her that
he knew gave her a lot of pleasure when kissed or sucked.Logan took
his time loving her because he wanted to give her as much pleasure as
possible. Next he worked down her left arm, doing the same thing as he
did the right.
	 Marie was in ecstasy. The buck of his hips as she laid her leg
over his thighs to bring him closer, only made her nipples ache, and
her clit throb. Every little touch of Logan's mouth on her body sent
sparks of need coursing through her. She also found that she couldn't
control herself from touching Logan. The feel of his hair, as she ran
her fingers, through it, was just as thick and soft as she dreamed it
would be. Nothing in the world had  prepared her for the feel of him
so close to her naked skin, how warm he was and how strong his body
felt as she caressed his arms and back.. If he didn't speed things
along soon she would go crazy.
	 Logan slowly ventured his way to her breasts, taking a tight
pink nipple in his mouth and sucking lightly. Marie gripped his hair
and pushed herself into his mouth even more.

"Hmm, oh God, Logan," She moaned. He sucked harder, enjoying her
groans. The louder she groaned the harder he sucked. Marie increased
her grip on his hair when he left that breast and gave the other one
the same attention. With gentle fingers, he caressed the breast he
left. He loved the feel of her hard nipple against the palm of his
hands, and soon found himself squeezing her tenderly so that he could
hear her groan more.

	 Marie could feel him at her entrance, she rubbed herself back
and forth against him slightly to entice him into moving things along.

"Marie, oh God,baby." He said barely containing himself, as she kept
up her ministrations.

	 Frustrated, Logan rolled Marie unto her back. Not wanting to
take her till he was sure that she  was ready for him completely, he
moved down her body until he reached her pussy. With fingers shaking
in excitement, he parted her lips. Earlier he hadn't taken a good look
at her, but now he could.  First he noticed that the hair around her
pussy was trimmed short and formed a perfect "V" around the lips of
her sex. With her lips open to him, he could see how swollen and wet
she was for him.  Looking up he found Marie's eyes on him.

"Watch me, darling." He whispered to her.

	 He held her gaze as he lowered his head and licked her from
the bottom of her pussy to the top. Her body arched off the bed, and
his name was cried out from breathless lips. With strong fingers he
plunged the depth of her tight pussy. He wanted to come just from that
feeling alone. No, he would wait till he was in her welcoming body
first. Holding her hips down became a necessity ,as she couldn't
control the buck of her hips as he gave her this pleasure.

"Logan, please."

	 It was her begging that finally did him in. It told him how
much she needed him. Swiftly he climbed up her body, kissing her
gently, he asked her on more time if this is what she wanted.

"Baby, are you sure? God knows I want you but I ain't going to do it,
if you aren't ready." He asked looking down into her flushed face.

"I want to. Please, Logan."

	 Kissing her one more time, he eased her legs wider and settled
himself carefully between her thighs. Taking a breathe, he guiding his
hard cock to her entrance.

"This might hurt, darling. I'll try to be gentle." He told her as he
pushed himself into her body. It didn't take long for him to find the
barrier that blocked him from the rest of her depth. With teeth
clinched, Logan thrust quickly through barrier until he was completely
sheathed in her.
	 Marie sighed with pleasure. Logan's finger and lips had made
her feel real good, but nothing felt as good as finally having him
inside her. She knew when she lost her virginity it would hurt, but
with Logan she only felt a slight pinch.

"Are you okay, Marie?" She watched him ask through teeth that where
still clinched.

"Yes." She replied, nodding.

Taking a steady breathe, Logan slowly started to thrust in and out of
her.

"God, you're so tight, baby." Logan groaned to her as he controlled
himself not to take her too quickly. She was so hot and tight, that
Logan really wanted to thrust into her like a mad man.
	 Marie suddenly felt hot. It started at her breasts, and was
slowly working its way down her body. She moaned as the feeling grew
more intense.
	 Logan knew she was close, between the way she smelled and the
way her moans increased with each thrust of his body into hers.

"That's it, baby. Come for me. God, darling." Logan moaned to her, as
he felt her tighten around his cock.

"Oh, God."

"Yes, Marie."

"Please, more. Logan!"

"Yes, yes." Logan grit his teeth and pumped a little harder and
faster.

Marie could feel something building up inside her but didn't know what
it was.

Logan didn't knew how much longer he could last, Marie just felt too
good.

"Looooggaaannnn!! Marie screamed as she finally felt the explosion in
her body. Seconds later she felt a gush of warmth in her lower body
and heard Logan roar as he thrust into her for the final time.
	 It was silent for a long time after that. Marie didn't know
what to say, being it was her first time, and Logan was quiet, because
he had never felt so complete after making love to someone. Carefully
he rolling onto his side, pulling Marie with him. With arms wrapped
around each other they peacefully drifted off to sleep.
	 Hours later Logan woke to find Marie still wrapped in his
arms, silently sleeping.*God, she's beautiful.* He thought as he
watched her sleep. Her skin glowed even after it had been many hours
since they had made love. Her lips where still slightly red from his
harsh kisses. *Just one little kiss. Don't want to wake her, just want
a taste.* Tenderly he brushed his lips over hers. *Mine, all mine* He
thought with male pride. Closing his eyes he laid back and enjoyed the
peacefulness of the moment. Again, he drifted off to sleep.
	 Marie woke to find herself still in Logans arm. She laid
perfectly still as she looked on the sleeping face of the man she
loved. Their first time had been nice but she knew he had been holding
have for fear of hurting her. {Or is it me?}
Feeling sticky she decided to take a quick shower.
	 It was another hour before he woke up. This time it was to the
sound of running water. *Ah, the shower.* Logan smiled wickedly as he
got out of the bed, remembering the fantasy from this morning.

Marie never heard Logan sneak into the shower with her.

"Logan!" She gasped as she felt his hands attack her waist and pull
her to his warm body.

"Hello, gorgeous. Did you?....I was wondering?....Shit. Marie did you
like it?" Logan
stammerd He nuzzled her neck to keep her from seeing how unsure he
felt. When it came to her, Logan always felt a little nervous. He was
afraid of being too rough, letting too much of the animal out.

"You where holding back, Logan." She whispered as she caressed his
back.

"Marie, I promised to take care of you. Even if that means from me."

	 He felt her teeth scrap against his neck, then her lips
sucking on a sensitive spot close to his collar bone. He couldn't bite
back the moan at the feel of her mouth on his skin. But he did growl
when he felt her hands start to caress his chest, especially when they
found their way to his nipples.

"Marie, baby." He warned. *Can't loss control.*

"I know how you are with other woman. Why can't you be that way with
me.?" Marie asked him.

< Oh, yeah. Tell the man I love that I can touch him but haven't cause
I feel insecure?>

	 That line rang in his head over and over. *Is she really
afraid that I don't enjoy being with her?* Looking into her eyes he
found the answer staring back at him. Suddenly he didn't want to tell
her with words but with action.
	 Marie stared into his eyes willing him to see how insecure she
felt. While his gentleness had been nice, she knew how sex with Logan
really was. Having his memories was sometimes a curse.
	 Gazing down at the beautiful woman before him, Logan moved her
until her back rested against the tile wall.

"Oh, that's cold!!" Marie gasped as her skin touched the cold tile
wall.

	 Logan smirked. Moving so that his body pressed into hers, he
started the primal seduction she had begged for. Ferociously, he
kissed her lips, forcing her to open her mouth, Logan explored its
secrets. He was pleased by her moans, fearing that he would be too
rough and hurt her too much. Moving away from her mouth, Logan
scrapped his teeth over her jaw and growled at her.

"Your mine." He breathed into her neck.

She whimpered as he bit her neck tenderly and soothed the mark with
his tongue.

"No one has ever tasted as good as you, darling."  He informed her
before he started kissing his way down to her breasts. Logan licked
her nipples until they were diamond hard.
	 Looking up he found Marie's head thrown back, her eyes
squeezed shut. The flush that he found so attractive stained her skin
from her face down to the breast he was a that moment giving attention
to. Watching her, he suckled on her nipples, and listened, as she
groaned and writhed in pleasure above him. Her sounds only spurred him
on to move father down her body to the place that pleased him the
most. Logan found her just as wet and swollen and smelling like
heaven. He lifted one her legs and rested it over his shoulder.
Parting her lips, he lapped at her dripping core. He growled deep in
his throat at the taste of their juices that had mingled together from
their earlier activity. Ruthlessly, he thrust his tongue into her
depths.

"Oh, God, Logan." Marie squealed out, as she felt his tongue thrust in
and out of her wet hole. Hands shaking from pleasure grabbed and
pushed the man deeper, wanting more of what she knew he could give
her. Finding one of Logan hands, Marie lead him to one of her breasts.
	 Smiling, Logan plucked at that nipples as he licked and thrust
his tongue into her body. He listened to her cries of pleasure and
never felt more alive than he did at that moment. Wanting her to lose
complete control, he flicked his tongue over her clit and listened as
she gave a final cry, as she exploded with pleasure.
	 Panting out of breathe, Marie looked down to find a grinning
Logan. Not wanting to be the only one to receive any pleasure, she
pulled him to her and kissed him. She tasted what Logan had been
tasting mere seconds ago. Flavors flowed over her tongue that she
would never in a million years be able to describe, but found that
weren't unpleasant. Moaning, she decided to treat him to the same
treatment that he had just given her.
	 Willing to let Marie do with him as she pleased, he took her
place at the tile wall where she had been standing. He watched in
curiosity and eagerness at what his shy little Marie was going to do
to him.
	 Using Logan's memories to help her, Marie set to give him as
much pleasure as possible. His lip where the best place to start.
Running her tongue across his lower lip, she was rewarded with a moan.
This helped encourage her more, tenderly bitting his lip, which gave
her access to his mouth. Earlier he had control of her, but now it was
her turn to explore and taste the uniqueness of Logan. With tongues
slashing against one other and breathes harsh, Marie finally began to
feel the wild passion that Logan had shown to those other women.
Growling at him softly, she ended the kiss, and instead nipped at his
chin, before moving to the delicate area below his ear. Copying what
he had done to her earlier, Marie nipped at the skin before soothing
it with little licks. While she did this, her fingers combed through
his thick hair.
	 Logan was definitely enjoying how bold Marie had become.
Happily, he feathered light kiss across her shoulder. He jumped just
slightly when she bit him with her blunt teeth, but purred when he
felt the rough licks of her tongue across his skin.

"God, yes." He moaned in her ear.

	 Grinning wickedly up at Logan, Marie gradually moved her hands
from his hair down to the dense hair on his chest, finding his
nipples, she gently pinch them.
	 Logan was so turned on by what she done, that he was tempted
to take her right there but wanting to know what she had planned won
out, for now. He stared at her while she became familiar with his
chest and moaned when she discovered just the right pressure to apply
with her mouth, that drove him almost to the breaking moment. With a
snarl, he grabbed the back of her head and forced a long and wet kiss
on her inviting lips.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you. darling?" He asked,
after he had broken off the kiss so, that they could breath easy.

"Show me." She dared him.

	 Taking her hand he guided it to his hard cock. He hadn't let
her touch him earlier for fear of losing control, but now he felt
safe, since they had made love once already.
	 Marie was fascinated by Logan's cock. The skin was softer then
the skin on the rest of his body. And even though it was hard, it
pulsed with a life of its own. She felt her body tingle and grow hot
just by the light touch of her fingers. Bravely she wrapped her
fingers around it and slowly pumped her hand up and down the length of
Logan's growing cock.

"How does it all fit?" She asked unthinkingly.

"Very nicely." Logan chuckled as he watched her touching him.

	 Kneeling down Marie came face to face with it. She notice a
small amount of liquid at the head and suddenly had the urge to taste
him. Jubilee had told her about this form of foreplay, and she also
knew from Logans' memory that he enjoyed oral stimulation. Leaning
forward she  ever so gently licked the nectar leaking from tip of his
cock. A hiss and then her name could be heard coming from Logans lips.
Liking the taste, Marie tenderly sucked the head into her mouth.

"Just relax your throat a little, darling and it will work." Logan
moaned out as he buried his hand in her hair to guide her. Gritting
his teeth he fought the urge to thrust wildly into her throat. This
wasn't a whore off the streets, but the woman he loved and he wanted
her to enjoy everything they did together.

	 Marie slid him in and out of her mouth slowly. Remembering
something for his memories she slipped him out until only the head
remained in her mouth, tenderly she tongued the hole where earlier his
precom had leaked out. She hadn't expected to be pulled away from what
she had been enjoying doning, but she was.
	 Breathing harshly Logan looked at the woman standing before
him. Confusion was written in Marie's eyes.

"That felt too good."  He said gently.

	 Sliding his finger between Marie's thighs, he checked to make
sure that she was wet and ready for him. He smiled as he listened to
her moan his name. Her arms wound their way around his shoulders and
pulled him down for a searing kiss.

"Are you sure?" He asked wanting to be inside her desperately.

"Yes."

Lifting her, he gently impaled her on his cock.

"Wrap your legs around me tightly,darling."

	 All Marie could do was moan, she found out quickly that in
this position he slid farther into her body then ever before. Holding
on tightly with arms and legs, she urged him to take her.

"Please, Logan. I don't want to wait anymore." She pleaded.

	 Making sure that her back was against the wall, Logan slowly
started thrusting in and out of Marie's writhing body.  He watched in
pleasure as she thrust herself on him. The rapture on her face would
forever be imprinted on his mind.

"That's right. Take it, baby." He moaned as he grabbed her ass and
started a more brutal pace.

"Oh, God. Please." Marie cried

	 Marie's world narrowed down to just the feel of Logan
thrusting into her body. She didn't hear the water running from the
shower, didn't felt the now warm tile at her back. All she felt and
heard, was Logan. The tingle that had begun earlier was now stronger
and riding through her in waves.

"Harder, Logan." She demanded, wanting to come harder than she had
ever come in her life.

	 Hearing her demand, Logan growled and thrust into her willing
body. He could tell she was close and he wanted the same thing for
that she wanted, plus his own release.

"Yes, yes." Marie cried as painful pleasure screamed through her body.

	 Feeling Marie's inner wall tighten painful around him, Logan
thrust hard into her body, needing to feel himself come into her
scorching heat. Wildly he thrust and thrust until he finally came with
a roar. But he didn't stop, because he found that Marie was coming
again even as he poured himself into her.

"OH, Logan." She cried out to him as she buck and writhed.

"Yes, baby. Yes." He moaned as he thrust till he knew she was done.

	 With a sigh of happiness Marie eased her legs down from where
they'd been at his waist.
	 Logan looked down at her, she was smiling from being well
satisfied, and never looked more beautiful to him then she did at that
moment. Cleaning them up and turning off the water, Logan then lead
Marie to the bedroom where he dried the both of them.

"Are you tired?" he asked looking into her face.

"Mmmm." Was the answer he got. With a smirk he crawled into bed with
his love. His last thoughts before he feel asleep were of a ring that
he'd secretly had made for her so he could ask her to marry him.

Are there ANY non-logan/Rogue "Love" stories out there? Everyone
keeps forgetting,that he said "well,tell her my heart BELONGS TO
ANOTHER." As in,Jean!!! Hello?! Logan no loves Rogue;like
that...but,as a kid sister.....That's my main rant for now...I would
just like to see some movie fic out there,that stays true to the basic
story,and ways they think...

I definatly agree on this! It's quite hard finding a Logan story where
he's not in love with Rogue!

Original message from: sabra_tooth@...
>
>   Are there ANY non-logan/Rogue "Love" stories out there? Everyone
>keeps forgetting,that he said "well,tell her my heart BELONGS TO
>ANOTHER." As in,Jean!!! Hello?! Logan no loves Rogue;like
>that...but,as a kid sister.....That's my main rant for now...I would
>just like to see some movie fic out there,that stays true to the
basic
>story,and ways they think...
>
>
>To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
>xmenmoviefanfic-unsubscribe@egroups.com
>
>
>
>Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to
http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
>
>
>.
>


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> I definatly agree on this! It's quite hard finding a
> Logan story where
> he's not in love with Rogue!

I agree, although not necessarily because I think
Logan is in love with Jean.  He hardly even *knows*
Jean.  But Wolverine, in comics-canon, has a long
tradition of NOT falling in love with jailbait,
especially not emotionally-scarred jailbait.

Is there a discussion group for this list?  A message
board or something?  If so, I apologize for the OT
post.

Dyce

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I think that most fans thought that line was really lame and so they tend to
ignore it.  I was on a Logan/Marie list and wrote a fic that started off
Marie/Scott and got toasted really bad for it. The flamers didn't even give it a
chance to go beyond the first chapter.

As far as the movie and it's sequel, if Bryan Singer doesn't exploit  the
obvious chemistry between Hugh Jackman and Anna Paquin, then he doesn't deserve
to helm the second movie.
Here's a link to a review of X-Men that discusses that:
http://www.filmscoremonthly.com/articles/2000/24_Jul---X_Men_Insert_Pun_Here.asp

Highlights of the review include:

Any one scene between Jackman and Paquin has more electricity than anything in
The Patriot and The Perfect Storm combined.Their scenes together have a
wonderfully complex feel to them; a barely- harnessed sexual attraction combined
with each of their heavily-loaded emotional baggage. But the subplot involving
the attraction of Wolverine to Jean Grey (Famke Janssen) is written in a
slapdash, third-grade manner, and suffers under the almost-overwhelming
chemistry of Jackman and Paquin.


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Well the whole point of fan-fiction is for us, the fans, to write it how we
wanted to see it or how we want things to turn out!  I am not bashing your
view, I mean variety is the spice of life, and there are some really good
stories out there that do not involve Logan and Marie. My point is that
fan-fiction allows us to read or write story lines that will most likely
never come to fruition!  Oh well, sorry if i offended anyone!
       Alexx


In a message dated 7/2/2001 6:10:29 PM Central Daylight Time,
sabra_tooth@... writes:


>
>    Are there ANY non-logan/Rogue "Love" stories out there? Everyone
> keeps forgetting,that he said "well,tell her my heart BELONGS TO
> ANOTHER." As in,Jean!!! Hello?! Logan no loves Rogue;like
> that...but,as a kid sister.....That's my main rant for now...I would
> just like to see some movie fic out there,that stays true to the basic
> story,and ways they think...
>




[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

>> I definatly agree on this! It's quite hard finding a
>> Logan story where
>> he's not in love with Rogue!

>I agree, although not necessarily because I think
>Logan is in love with Jean.  He hardly even *knows*
>Jean.

I agree. If anything he keeps doing the Jean thing to annoy Cyclops.
He dosn't really seem the type f guy who'd really try and "steal" a
girl. There's plenty out there, why try for one thats taken?

>But Wolverine, in comics-canon, has a long
>tradition of NOT falling in love with jailbait,
>especially not emotionally-scarred jailbait.

Yes! That is my basis for not really seeing the sexual chmestry.
Besides, he's more a protector for her. He's just that sort of
charater.

Sorry. it's not fic....and this will be my last post on the subject.

-Wocket


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TITLE: Wolverine Saves the X-Men (aka Death of the Evil Fan Fiction Smut
Monster)
AUTHOR: Elektra
EMAIL: wxfonline@...
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this fan fiction belong to Marvel, Fox,
etc.
DISTRIBUTION: If you would like permission to archive this story, please
email: wxfonline@....
OFFICIAL WEBSITE ADDRESS: http://www.wxfonline.com
RATING: Rated R.
CONTENT: L/R, L/My, J/S
SUMMARY: Movieverse. Something is preying on the minds of the X-Men and it's
up to Logan to save the day.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so this is satire. The characterizations are not meant
to be exact. And, yes I know, it is unlikely that our villain could actually
assume the form of a blue vibrator. Just go with it.
DEDICATION: I'd like to dedicate this to all the fine authors who have sent
fiction in to the Wolverine X-Fiction archive lately. You were my
inspiration. I think you should take that as a compliment. *grins*


Kitty was sitting in the entertainment room of the x-mansion half-heartedly
recopying her notes from Hank McCoy's class in quantum physics when Jubilee
came roaring into the room. The girl in trademark yellow stared at her
roommate intently but did not say a word. Kitty was in the process of
preparing for her graduate school entrance exams and Jubilee had been warned
by Jean, Scott, Storm, Professor Xavier, Hank, Remy, Rogue and Bobby to
avoid disrupting her studies at all costs.

Kitty bit her lip in order to prevent a sly smile from appearing on her
face. She almost giggled as Jubilee began fidgeting on one foot and then the
other in an attempt to prevent herself from saying a word. She was obviously
desperate to spill some new, juicy secret before her brain exploded.
Figuring it would be easier to find more study time than it would be to
clean Jubilee gray-matter out of the carpet, Kitty decided to put her friend
out of her misery.

"Okay Jubes," she said, carefully marking the place she had left off and
closing her notebook, "spill before you hurt yourself."

Jubilee's mouth hung open for a moment before she nonchalantly sat down in
the chair across from Kitty.

"I don't hafta tell you. Maybe, I'll just keep it to myself."

Kitty snorted.

"Not likely. Besides, if you tell me your secret, I'll tell you what I
caught Mr. Summers and Ms. Grey doing in the kitchen this morning." Kitty
smiled smugly.

Jubilee pretended to consider the offer for a moment. After all, she
couldn't look too desperate for gossip.

"Well," she said, "I don't know. Is it good? 'Cuz what I have is really
good."

Kitty grinned mischievously.

"I'll give you this much. It involves several frozen bananas, chocolate
sauce and," Kitty dropped her voice and leaned toward Jubilee slowly,
"whipped cream."

"But we don't have any whipped cream," Jubilee said, unimpressed. "Bobby ate
the last of it during our ice cream raid last night. Besides, it sounds like
they were just making something for breakfast."

Kitty smiled serenely.

"I know, but Mr. Summer's went to the store this morning and bought more.
Maybe I should also tell you that I also heard Ms. Grey say 'Oh harder, do
it harder'."

Jubilee squeaked and swallowed her gum.

"Okay, Okay," she exclaimed, "I'll bite. You're sure to find out as soon as
Rogue gets out from her team meeting anyway." Jubilee grinned derisively.
"Logan came home last night."

Kitty snorted. "I could have guessed that from what you said about Rogue."

Jubilee rolled her eyes and proceeded to blow a large florescent green
bubble with her gum.

"That's not the important part, silly. The important part is that he didn't
come home alone."

"Oh man," Kitty groaned, "haven't we heard this fan fic before? Her name is
Dixie or Billy or Bimbette and she's a redheaded stripper that he picked up
in some horn-n-hoof dive in Canada, right?"

Jubilee glared at her roommate. The two girls had made a pact not to
publicly discuss the fan fiction they had found on the internet. It had been
hard for Jubilee to keep it under her hat; however, she had found
considerable incentive when Kitty reminded her what Rogue would do if she
found out about the "Wolverine and Jubilee" website. The fur would fly, and
Jubilee liked her powers right where they were thank-you-very-much.

"Shhhhh," Jubilee said, carefully making sure that there were no other
mutants lurking around to hear. "Quiet with anfay-ictionfay before Ms. Grey,
Mr. Summers or the Professor hear you. They'll probably start monitoring our
internet access and then we won't be able to read any of the really good
stuff."

"You mean all those stories with you and Wolvie knocking books?" Kitty asked
smugly.

Jubilee blushed.

"No, actually, I was thinking more along the lines of that one where you
reveal that you want to lose your virginity to both Mr. Summers and Wolvie,"
Jubilee shot back. "Besides, I never said Wolvie brought a woman back with
him."

Kitty looked sick.

"You mean he brought a guy home," Kitty exclaimed. "He really is gay like
those stories said? I never would have thought- Oh, Rogue must be crushed.
We shou-"

"No, he's not gay," Jubilee said exasperatedly.

"Well, if he didn't bring a woman home with him and he's not gay, then what
is he? Asexual?"

Jubilee grimaced.

"Kitty, you are sooo disgusting. I can't believe you-" Jubilee's voice
dropped off and her eyes glazed over as she looked at some distant object
Kitty could not identify.

Kitty waved her hand in front of Jubilee's face and was just beginning to
get a little worried about her when Jubilee shook herself free of whatever
had been holding her.

"Sorry," she said with an impish grin and a wiggle of her eyebrows, "I was
just imagining Wolvie reproducing asexually."

"Oh," Kitty shrieked, firing several pillows at her roommate, "that's
disgusting."

"You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."


      * * * * *


Jean and Scott were walking past the entertainment room when they heard
Kitty and Jubilee scuffling around.

"Should we go in there and tell them to take it to the Danger Room," Scott
asked, prepared to head into the fray and cut through any nonsense that
might be going on.

Jean reached out with her mind and touched lightly on both of the girl's
psyches. She allowed the contact to exist only long enough to determine that
both of the girls were amused. Her lip curled into a wry grin as she
gathered the gist of their conversation. Logan asexually reproducing,
indeed! That would be the day.

In an effort to maintain the brief semblance of peace that had developed
between Scott and Logan, she pushed her better half further down the
hallway. The last thing she needed was for him to recognize or acknowledge
the fact that the gruff, brooding Canadian was a potently magnetic draw for
young, teenaged girls. Or, for any living, breathing woman, for that matter.

"I don't think they need us butting in," she said.

Scott looked at Jean doubtfully.

"But that's what *we* do," he said, gesturing back and forth between them.

"Not on days when Kitty catches us going at it in the kitchen. Together we
have the combined credibility rating of Bill Clinton and Richard Nixon," she
said, letting just enough acid into her voice to prove to him that she meant
business.

"Well, if you recall correctly, I'm not the one who said we had to use the
counter because the bananas would thaw before we got back to our room."

Jean blushed. That was true enough. Her little frozen fruit fetish had
contributed significantly to their behavior in the kitchen that morning. She
made a mental note to have Scott install a small refrigerator/freezer in
their bedroom.

"That's not the point, Scott," she said. "What I'm trying to say is that
neither of us really has a leg to stand on if we go in there spouting rules
and regulations."

"Well, it sounded like you were blaming it on me," Scott said petulantly.
His lower lip protruded ever so slightly above his upper as he began to
pout.

Jean shook her head.

"Well," she said in a cajoling tone of voice, "if you promise to be a good
boy during our meeting with the Professor and Logan, I'll ignore it if you
sign on to the X-Men fan fiction forum when we get back to our room. I'll
even take the child safety setting off so you can access anything you want."

"Anything?" Scott asked, his eyes temporarily crossing. He couldn't believe
his luck. He had permission to not only read x-fiction, but any kind of
x-fiction! His long hours of staring blankly at the computer screen were
good preparation for his role as leader of the X-Men, he thought. If he
could maintain a straight face while reading his way through a three-way
with Storm and Jean, he could do anything.

Jean thought quickly as she watched little drops of drool form at the
corners of Scott's mouth. If he was distracted by the fiction, maybe he
wouldn't notice if she strolled around the (un)Frozen archives. A man with
instant freezing abilities could make for a lot of frozen bananas -- and
other things.

They looked at each other.

"It's a deal," they said in unison and began hurrying in a dignified manner
down the hall. As they walked, Scott thought about how blissfully in harmony
they were. The two were obviously meant for each other, and Mr.
"dick-of-steel" would just have to find some other mutant for his all-night
sex-a-thons.

Jean was busy wondering how she could get her -- hands -- yeah, that's it,
on more frozen bananas. Hey, don't blame the messenger, it's not my fault
they've got filthy minds. Oh wait, it is. . . nevermind, let's just get on
with the story, shall we?


      * * * * *


When Scott and Jean walked in to the Professor's office, the first thing
they saw was Logan lounging on a leather sofa with no shirt on. Rogue was
sitting beside him; well, to be honest, it was more like half on top of him,
but you get the picture.

Jean rolled her eyes. Behaving like that, and in public! To make matters
worse, she was a former student and she didn't even have red hair! She
pouted. There was always more Rogue-n-Logan centric fiction out there than
Jean-n-Logan. It just wasn't fair. Didn't these fan fiction writer people
understand unrequited love?

Jean's thoughts were interrupted by the slow, honeyed drawl of Rogue's
voice.

"Logan, did Ah mention that the Professor has helped me to control mah
powers?"

The young woman began running her hands across Logan's bare chest.

Logan looked uncomfortably at his "no-longer-of-jailbait-age" protégé.

"Yeah," he said, "I think you managed to mention that a few dozen times in
the last hour."

Rogue smiled at him brightly. The fiction said the first step to getting
Logan's attention was to find a way around her powers. She'd managed to do
that. Next, she was supposed to call attention to her overly-developed
feminine charms. She couldn't remember her breasts being quiet as big before
she started reading fan fiction. She was almost popping out of her miracle
bra. But, she figured it might be a side-effect of the stories. And, since
the fiction said that Logan was sure to like it, she wasn't terribly
worried. Anyway, she thought, it'd probably work out in the long run.

"Logan," she asked in her best sultry drawl, "do you want these back?"

She slowly pulled at the chain of the dogtags. When they didn't immediately
appear, she kept tugging. Gee, she thought, maybe this is a little too much
cleavage.

Logan stared at the woman who was frantically jerking at the chain that was
clasped between her mountainous breasts. He had no idea who had convinced
her to get a boob job, but it really was a turn-off. Hell, even if he could
touch her, he'd never get closer than those two enormous ridges of flesh.

Rogue continued yanking at the chain, ignoring the ugly red welts that were
beginning to appear on her flesh.

"I could help you with that," Scott said a bit too eagerly. When everyone in
the room turned to stare at him, he follow the statement with a weak, "team
leader, just trying to help."

Logan grunted as he stared a hole through Scott that even a guy named
Cyclops would be proud of.

"It looks like the Professor was right," Logan said as he stood and walked
to the window. The three other X-Men admired the view of his muscular ass in
tight black jeans as he walked. Standing in a beam of sunlight that caused
the hair on his chest to glisten against his flesh, Logan was briefly dazed
by the expressions on his teammates'--all his teammates--faces.

Chuck was right. He was some kind of sexual god in this fan fiction world.
Logan smirked as he took in Scott's growing erection. He filed that
particular tidbit away for use on a day when insult material was running
particularly low.

"Logan, did I mention that you can touch me now?" Rogue asked, still pulling
away at the chain between her breasts.

Logan sighed. As much fun as it would be gathering material on these people,
this threat to the team needed to be stopped.

"Yes, Marie, I believe you mentioned it."

He smiled at her patiently so she wouldn't begin to pout.

"Okay, so I guess I should begin by telling you where I've been for the last
six months."

Jean shrugged.

"If you really think you have to," she said. "We all know you've either been
hunting for a shred of your past, captured and tortured by Magneto,
Mystique, Sabretooth or a combination of the three, running away from your
relationships with me and Rogue, or fighting on the Cage circuit in Canada.
Or, maybe a combination of a bunch of those things."

Logan frowned. Fan fiction had made him this predictable; he felt sick.
Predictability was the least damn thing he was going to stand for.

Scott decided to chime in so Jean wouldn't forget him in the face of Logan's
rather potent sexual charisma.

"Shouldn't we be waiting for the Professor?"

Logan looked at Scott and cocked an eyebrow. He ignored the sighs this
movement drew from both Jean and Rogue. Women were turned on by the weirdest
things.

"Don't you think you should tone down the Xavier-envy just a little? People
are going to start saying that your relationship with Jean is just a cover."

"I've never thought about Charles in that way," Scott exclaimed.

Jean looked at him.

"Well, it's true! It was that awful fan fiction writer who did that."

Scott gasped and covered his mouth with both of his hands. Oh great, now
he'd done it. The cat was out of the bag. Scott looked at Jean with a
hesitant smile. She said nothing, choosing to silently glare at him. She's
going to punish me, Scott thought, his cock twitching in eager anticipation.

Logan silently calculated the amount of time that he had left before Scott
and Jean started rolling around on the floor and decided that he'd better
get a move on.

"Anyway," he said loudly in an attempt to regain their attention, "Chuck's a
little busy right now, so he asked me to handle this for him. I've been gone
the last few months because I've been on a secret mission for the
Professor."

Scott, Jean and Rogue looked dismayed. This wasn't how it was supposed to
go. The fan fiction writers said so!

"He sent me on this mission because he knew I was the only team member who
didn't bother with all that internet crap. So, he knew I would safely bring
the culprit in."

"The culprit?" Jean asked, a touch of fear in her voice. Surely he couldn't
mean . . .

"Yup," he said, "I brought in the person responsible for all this fan
fiction freakishness."

"Oh Logan," Rogue cried, "how could you! She's probably some stripper from a
bar in Canada. Ah bet mah boobs are bigger!" As she spoke, Rogue thrust her
hand down into her cleavage in a desperate attempt to find his dogtags. If
he only saw them, he was sure to remember that he had made a lifelong
commitment to her. And, Rogue figured, quite astutely, that it was as close
as any woman was going to get to receiving an engagement ring from the
Wolverine.

Scott and Jean stared at the arm that had disappeared between Rogue's
breasts.

"If you perverts are about ready," Logan said, "I'd like to get on with
this."

Jean and Scott looked at Logan sheepishly and Rogue stopped fishing for the
metallic object long enough to listen to what Logan had to say.

"So, like I said, Xavier sent me off to find the source of all this fan
fiction. It took awhile. I tell you these writers live all over the place.
Anyway, I got a hot tip from an informant of mine in Vegas, which eventually
led me back to someone we're all a little familiar with.

Logan walked to the door to go retrieve his special package.

"No sex while I'm gone," he admonished.

"Oh sure," Scott grumbled, "you can have a threesome with them, but I
can't."


      * * * * *


When Logan returned to the room with his "package" five minutes later, Scott
had a smug grin on his face and Jean's pants were on--backwards. As far as
Logan could tell, Marie seemed completely unaffected by this because she was
still fishing between the twin peaks of Everest that she called breasts.

"Marie," he said cajolingly, "you really don't have to find those for me.
They're fine right where they are."

Rogue shook her head.

"No, the fan fiction says you have to see 'em or Ah won't get any action."

Logan gave up the fight. She was obviously too far gone to be reasoned with.
He'd just have to hope that she returned to normal after he killed the
source of all the wretched fan fiction that was causing the team to go to
hell. How were they supposed to stop Magneto if Rogue constantly had her
hands all over him or herself. And, Scott and Jean were so busy fucking like
monkeys that they were completely worthless.

"Anyway, this is the root of all your fan fiction," he said, showing them
what looked like a rather pricey blue vibrator.

Scott laughed.

"Good one, Logan. That high-powered sniffer of yours tracked down a
vibrator. Was it a difficult capture? Must have been one hell of a fight."

The X-Men's team leader clutched at his sides as he continued to quake with
laughter. Somehow, Jean managed to stifle her own amusement, sure that
pissing Logan off was *not* the best way to find a place in his bed.

Logan ignored Scott's laughter and Marie's pleading looks at the vibrator.
These people really were sick.

"Come on, Blue," he said, "you might as well come on out. You've reached the
end of the road. There's no way you're getting out of here in one piece."

Slowly, the shape of the blue vibration device began to change. Scott, Jean
and Marie were stunned when little yellow eyes appeared along with red
shining lips and startlingly white teeth. Mystique evidently took breaks
from world domination long enough to maintain good dental hygiene.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Jean whined, "everyone knows
Mystique is a slut."

Logan watched Jean fidget with the seam of her backwards pants and somehow
managed to find the self-control to contain the "said the pot of the kettle"
that was itching to burst from his lips. Instead, he turned to Mystique, who
had finally assumed her true form. His eyes skirted over her body. Now this
was how a woman should be--completely unafraid of her sexuality and the body
that nature had given her.

"What I don't understand," he said, "is why you let me capture you so
easily. You went to all that trouble to fuck with the team, and, in the end,
you hide in a shape with no obvious defensive features. You had to know I'd
sniff you out."

Mystique said nothing. Instead, her lips spread in the hypnotically erotic
smile she was well known for.

"Oh my god, of course," Scott exclaimed, suddenly seeming to reacquire the
mental acumen that had helped him earn his place as the leader of the X-Men.
"Don't you see, she wanted to get captured. This entire exercise has been
about her getting captured by you!"

Logan looked at Scott doubtfully. His visor had to be on too tight.

"No really," Scott said, "just listen to me for a minute. So, it's well
documented that Mystique likes sex. And, if any of the stories about her are
true, which I'm assuming they are, she likes really twisted, freakish sex."

"I see where you're going with this," Jean said. "So, Magneto sends her to
the school to check out Rogue and disable the Professor. In the process, she
runs into Logan. She follows him around, maybe even talks to him in the
guise of me."

"Thinking he's talking to me, and hoping to piss you off, Scott, he probably
flirted with her. That got her attention enough that when we showed up on
Liberty Island, she assumed his form, which guaranteed that he'd end up
fighting with her."

"They fight; and, being the twisted individual that she is, it probably
turned her on. Now, she's got a problem. She wants him, but he hates her;
and, even worse, he can smell her, so she can't try any of her *usual*
tricks."

No one bothered to ask how Jean knew about Mystique's "usual tricks". Most
of them had already read the fan fiction.

"So," Scott said, picking up the story where Jean left off, "in order to get
your attention-"

"And, probably to get her rocks off," Rogue chimed in.

"She starts this fan fiction phenomenon on the internet," Scott said.

"Magneto was probably in on it too," Jean said, "if you consider all the
stories on there about him. And, he probably encouraged her to get other
people writing about all of us, so no one would be the wiser."

"I should have figured out that something was up when *Logan* became the
sexual stud of the outfit," Scott said. None of the mutants in the room
needed to see below his visor in order to know that he'd just rolled his
eyes.

"Yeah, but you're forgetting one thing," Logan said. "What the hell is she
going to get out of it besides the sharp end of my claws?"

"Punish," Mystique purred.

"Hey," Rogue exclaimed, rising from the couch, "who said Ah was goin' ta let
you near mah man, sister!"

Logan rolled his eyes. Just what he needed, a cat-fight.

"Are they going to remember any of this when this is all over?" Logan asked.

Mystique shrugged.

Logan considered for a moment. He could let Marie have at her, but the
eventual outcome would be iffy. Scott and Jean were on the floor,
apparently--celebrating--the amazing intellectual bond that had allowed them
to figure out Mystique's plan. So, they were of no help.

"Fuck it," he said, throwing Mystique over his shoulder. "You stay here," he
said, pointing to Rogue. "I want you right there when I get back. Just,
cover your eyes or something to avoid looking at that," he said, gesturing
toward the gyrating bodies of Scott and Jean.



~~~ Hours Later ~~~

Rogue sat on the couch, half-heartedly picking at the chain between her
breasts. She was still unable to find Logan's dogtags in the cleft of her
cleavage. But, at least it was better than looking at the goofy expressions
on Jean and Scott's faces. They had obviously had a lot of fun. She made a
mental note to tell the Professor that she wasn't responsible for the large
stain on his oriental rug.

She fidgeted on the cushion and wondered, for the billionth time, what Logan
was doing with Mystique. Rogue sighed. She could only imagine because he'd
never taken the time to do anything like that with her. A tear threatened to
roll down her cheek, but she refused to let it fall. She wouldn't cry over
him. She wouldn't. It was exactly what she did in all the fan fiction
stories.



~~~ Hours Later ~~~

Jubilee poked her head into Professor Xavier's office.

"Don't you guys want to come down for dinner? Remy and Hank are making some
kick-ass Cajun food. Crawfish. Gumbo. All that stuff."

Rogue, Scott and Jean looked at her.

"Sorry," Jean said, "we're waiting for Logan to come back so we can finish
our meeting."

Jubilee shrugged and ran off down to the kitchen to snag more food before it
all vanished.



~~~ Hours Later ~~~

Jean and Scott were *still* playing strip tic-tac-toe on Xavier's desk.
Rogue sighed and continued to avert her gaze. Watching your co-workers do
the nasty on the big boss's desk was just a little disconcerting.

Rogue pressed her hand against the side of her breast, it sure was feeling
funny.



~~~ Hours Later ~~~

Rogue looked down at her chest. Unless she was seeing things, both of her
breasts seemed to have returned to their normal size. She yanked at the
chain of the dogtags and the shiny metal rectangle immediately appeared in
the palm of her hand. She inspected the tags carefully. They looked none the
worse for wear despite the extreme pressure that had been applied to them
lately.

Rogue looked over at Scott and Jean, who stood in front of the large picture
window.

"Oh yeah, Scott. Give it to momma. Right there."

She sighed. Well, at least one thing was back to normal.



~~~ Hours Later ~~~

The door to the office swung open and Logan strolled in. His arms, chest and
back were covered in a fine mesh of scratches that were already beginning to
heal. Mystique had obviously had one hell of a time.

Logan took in the scene. Jean and Scott had finally succumbed to exhaustion
and lay in a pile of naked flesh on the floor. He figured he should wake
them up, but why bother. The Professor was sure to come stumbling in on them
at some point. What he wouldn't give to be sitting here when he did.

"Well," he said to the woman sitting patiently on the couch, "the old girl
finally gave up the ghost."

Rogue stared at him, her chin nearly resting on her chest.

"You mean to tell me you fucked her?" she asked.

He nodded.

"To death?"

He nodded again.

"What can I say, darlin'," he said. "Not *everything* was a work of
fiction."

He grinned.

"Besides, I *am* the best at what I do."

_________________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com

In a message dated 7/2/01 4:16:34 PM Pacific Daylight Time,
sabra_tooth@... writes:


>    Are there ANY non-logan/Rogue "Love" stories out there? Everyone
> keeps forgetting,that he said "well,tell her my heart BELONGS TO
> ANOTHER." As in,Jean!!! Hello?! Logan no loves Rogue;like
> that...but,as a kid sister.....That's my main rant for now...I would
> just like to see some movie fic out there,that stays true to the basic
> story,and ways they think...
>

I'm sick of Logan/Rogue fics too. I don't even think they make a good
pairin'. Yeah, they're way better as a sibling kinda thing I think... but the
whole part "Tell her my heart belongs to someone else" doesn't have to mean
Jean. At first, I thought it was about the Professor, lol. But if they're
gonna start goin' in the canon direction, then maybe it is Jean. Or if
they're gonna do it similar to the original comic, then Lady Death Strick
maybe. But, hell, we can't forget that this is an entirely different universe
where Logan doens't even look like any of the others, and Storm is more weak
and doesn't even sound like the's from Africa (I don't know what country in
particular, sorry). So, I guess, Logan might really be gay in this universe.
Ya never know...

~Natas

Sorry for the OT, but hey, I'm just followin' the pack, lol (don't judge me!)


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Uh, guys, don't mean to spoil the fun, but I'm pretty damn sure this list is
not for discussion. That list exists elsewhere. Thanks.

Jengrrrl

----- Original Message -----
From: <matchstickdude@...>
To: <xmenmoviefanfic@yahoogroups.com>
Sent: Monday, July 02, 2001 8:12 PM
Subject: Re: [xmenmoviefanfic] Just out of curiosity...editorial?


> In a message dated 7/2/01 4:16:34 PM Pacific Daylight Time,
> sabra_tooth@... writes:
>
>
> >    Are there ANY non-logan/Rogue "Love" stories out there? Everyone
> > keeps forgetting,that he said "well,tell her my heart BELONGS TO
> > ANOTHER." As in,Jean!!! Hello?! Logan no loves Rogue;like
> > that...but,as a kid sister.....That's my main rant for now...I would
> > just like to see some movie fic out there,that stays true to the basic
> > story,and ways they think...
> >
>
> I'm sick of Logan/Rogue fics too. I don't even think they make a good
> pairin'. Yeah, they're way better as a sibling kinda thing I think... but
the
> whole part "Tell her my heart belongs to someone else" doesn't have to
mean
> Jean. At first, I thought it was about the Professor, lol. But if they're
> gonna start goin' in the canon direction, then maybe it is Jean. Or if
> they're gonna do it similar to the original comic, then Lady Death Strick
> maybe. But, hell, we can't forget that this is an entirely different
universe
> where Logan doens't even look like any of the others, and Storm is more
weak
> and doesn't even sound like the's from Africa (I don't know what country
in
> particular, sorry). So, I guess, Logan might really be gay in this
universe.
> Ya never know...
>
> ~Natas
>
> Sorry for the OT, but hey, I'm just followin' the pack, lol (don't judge
me!)
>
>
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
>
>
> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
> xmenmoviefanfic-unsubscribe@egroups.com
>
>
>
> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
>
>
>

Off Topic Posts are not allowed on the X-Men Movie Fanfiction list.

Those who have posted off topic in the last twenty-four hours have
been put on a two week probation with their posting rights revoked.
Further disregard of the rules of this list will result in
termination of membership.

I will continue to put those who break the rules on two week
probation. If you want to be able to post to the list--don't break
the rules.

This list is for fiction. Fiction only. Please respect the 650 odd
members who are subscribed to it for that purpose by posting _only_
fiction.

Questions? Comments?

Feel free to e-mail me at bree@...

-Diebin
Co-List Mod, XMMFF

Title: Purdah
Author: Jengrrrl
Rating: NC17, for a graphic depiction of sex
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am nothing, etc.
Distribution: Disquieting Muses, http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/muses, and
list
Summary: Logan thinks he knows what he remembers.  L/R, in a funny sort of way
(Yes. AGAIN.)
Author's Note: A purdah is (was?) a silk screen used in India to keep women
hidden from the sight of men, strangers. I kept this story filed under "unsmutty
smut". You've been warned.


Purdah

There was no beginning really. It was like dropping into the middle of events
already in progress.  The meeting, in that bar in Canada might constitute a
beginning.  but she was a kid and scared.  And he was an asshole and
unconcerned.

On the road, in his beloved camper - now decimated and gone forever - he had
noticed something else about her.  She was a flirt.  Oh, not like some he'd met.
She was just a beginner, but she had real potential. Her teasing about the
shitty trailer, the constant questioning.Yeah, she knew what to do. It had taken
real guts for her to climb into the back the way she had, too.  Guts or an
instinct for survival . he knew a bit about that. So, while he made it a point
never to pick anyone up, her sheer bravado had somehow won him over.

Then, the shit hit the fan and the next time he talked to her. well, things
didn't go so well.

He'd never really remembered caring whether he hurt someone else.  He'd beaten
many men to a bloody pulp and hadn't stopped long enough to feel a smidgen sorry
for them.  That was a new experience for him - when he saw her wide eyes, face
contorted in pain, he felt completely overwhelmed and impotent and. sorry.  And
she touched him and he didn't really feel much after that.

Fast forward to the night he became a hero and saved her life:

He wasn't a superhero. That was bullshit and he knew it.  Saving the planet was
the last thing on his agenda. If he wanted to be honest, he would say that he
allowed himself to be propelled through the air like a damn paper airplane
because he wanted to relive it. He wanted to remember what it was like to care.
When he saw her in that contraption, screaming for help and dying, he did care. 
He wanted to save her.  And he wasn't saving her just to save an anonymous
fellow mutant; he wasn't saving her for 'the cause' or whatever.  He was saving
her because he knew her, because she'd somehow made an impression on him, one he
hadn't ever felt before. He didn't want her to die.

When he went back to his life of searching and of beating men for money, he
thought about her.  He tried to remember her face but after two years it got
really tough. After five it was damn near impossible.

One night, he killed a man in the cage and had to take off.  That he didn't feel
anything about that man's death was something he was too aware of.  He thought
about her and felt the urge to remember.  He wanted her to help him remember.

It wasn't sexual, not at first.  At first it was the mere act of caring that
satisfied him.  When he saw her again after six years, it all came flooding back
and he remembered. She was the same person and she was different. so he still
cared, but he felt something else too.  Disconnected.

She was nice to him, the way Jean had been nice to him when he'd first come to
the school, but that wasn't what he wanted.  He didn't want her to be civil and
nice. He wanted her to be what she had been.  He wanted her to be the person he
cared about.

One day, not too long after his second arrival, she sat down next to him as he
was eating. She smiled and he almost told her. He almost asked why she wasn't
exactly who she had been.and couldn't she be again?  Instead, he said, "You've
changed."

She smiled again. "Have I?  Maybe you've changed, too."

He swallowed his food and replied, "I don't change."

She was still smiling when she leaned forward and ran a naked finger down his
cheek. "Everything changes, Logan."

There were subtle - and not so subtle - hints that she was interested in him.
Interested in being more than his friend.  She was still flirting, but she'd
gotten better at it. More adept.  Like maybe she'd had practice.  When she
looked and talked to him, there was something in her eyes - a twinkle of
mischievousness, a sparkle of temptation. She'd stroll up to him and wrap her
arm around his, sit as closely as possible when he was watching television.  He
should have been uncomfortable with her attentions. He should have dismissed
her. But he was entranced.  He observed her and every day she became more and
more what he had envisaged when he'd first met her.  She had become what he had
expected. and she was still the same person he could care about.

He took her to dinner.  He let her clothe him, so he was in a nice suit and
shoes.  She was wearing a red dress.  During the main course, she asked, "Is
this a date?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Sure, that'd be nice."

He nodded and went back to his steak. "Okay."

They skipped dessert and went back to the mansion.  Instead of parting ways they
both entered his room.

They were silent as he closed the door behind them. Then he heard her laugh.  "I
don't always put out on the first date," she said.

"When do you?"

A brief pause. "Never."

He pushed her up against the wall almost violently, pressing his body as close
to hers as possible.  He felt her tremble in response and it was almost enough
to make him want to pull back. Almost.

"This is what it's like?" he heard her whisper shakily.  His mouth was on the
base of her neck, his hands searching, finding fastenings, and undoing them.  He
went for the skin. He didn't answer her question. He didn't have to.

His hands found bare flesh and he sighed roughly. That he had touched skin
before was a given. But he had never touched hers - not like this. He ran his
fingers up and down her back, tracing the line of her spine, the curve. She was
clutching at his waist, waiting.  He found his voice. "You scared?" he murmured,
the sound barely above a whisper.

She didn't answer his question either. She just kept her hold on him, squeezing
his arm, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. He was still right up against her,
almost no space separating them at all. The room was dark except for a tiny
stream of light filtering underneath the closed door.  No sound, except their
heavy breathes.

Her dress was open from the back and all he had to do was pull it forward, off
her arms, and down.  She stood completely still as he did.  He knelt down and
pulled each heal off her feet, too, taking the opportunity to caress her legs
through her stockings.  A few tugs and those were off as well.

When she was left standing in her underwear, he moved back up her body,
enveloping her in his embrace.  His mouth was on her face - her cheeks, her
nose, her forehead, her chin... His hands - his hands were everywhere.  He was
touching her stomach, running smooth fingers up her torso - over her ribs and to
her breasts.  He watched as she leaned her head back against the wall. She kept
her hands on his forearms. She squeezed them, maybe to let him know she was
still there with him, still feeling - feeling too much.  He pulled one cup down,
exposing her bare breast to him.  His hand massaged, tugged at the soft skin.
She was gasping for air.  He was still kissing her face but not her mouth so she
had to turn her head, find his lips in the dark. Jesus, he'd never kissed her
before, wasn't prepared for the urgency with which he responded to his mouth on
hers.  His lips were slanting across hers, his mouth wet, tongue greedy. Tearing
away, she said, "Less" before he was on her again. This time, he had moved down
to her breast, sucking it into the heat of his mouth.  His teeth scraped against
a nipple and he heard her moan softly, the sound so inadvertent and strange, he
barely recognized her voice in it.

He was tasting her, tasting as much as possible, because she was there and
available and his. and he remembered. He heard the sound she made, felt the
tensing in her body, and reveled in it.  It made him want to take more of her,
swallow her whole if possible. Her hands were finally moving of their own
accord.  She had wrapped one hand through his hair, not pulling or pushing -
just holding him in place. Her other hand had moved from the back of his neck,
down beneath his shirt. She was pulling on the skin of his back.  He'd had
enough of her bra and reached behind her, finding the clasps and undoing them,
tossing the garment to some darkened corner. "You're still dressed," he heard,
her voice high and tremulous. Saying nothing, he moved back enough to pull is
shirt over his head. He tossed it the way of her bra and moved to unfasten his
slacks, setting his fly open in one swift motion. The slacks and his underwear
were pulled off as one. "There," he said. "Not dressed."

He moved against her again, hard and insistent; it was exciting and frightening
at once. His mouth was on her earlobe, biting and licking, when he moved a hand
between her thighs.  He started caressing her, over her underwear, and he felt
dizzy. His mouth was dry and sounds were coming from deep within his throat. His
hand moved beneath the elastic and one finger found her, slick and hot with
desire.  He couldn't breathe. He could hear her struggling for breathe as well.
He lifted her, half-carried, half-walked her to the bed and he was on her - on
top of her and ridding himself of that last piece of clothing.  His hands were
on her thighs, moving them apart, then on her backside, pulling her hips up to
meet his.  Kissing her lips, he pushed inside. She squeezed her thighs together,
nearly pushing him off. The word "Shit" rolled off her tongue, just as a tear
threatened to slip down her face. He stopped moving.

"Sorry," she muttered. "It hurt."

"Yeah," he replied. He wasn't moving. "Tell me when, okay."

"When?" He was shaking above her, holding himself at arms distance, connected
only at the one juncture. "I don't know what to do," she told him. "Do I do
something?"

"Shh." He dropped down onto his elbows, so that his face hovered above hers and
he could feel her breath on his lips and her breasts brushing against his chest.
He placed a brief kiss on the corner of her mouth as he began moving his hips
slowly.

He closed his eyes when he couldn't decipher the look in hers.  He thought of
her as she had been the first time, in his camper - young, a little scared, but
determined.  He remembered her as she'd seen him off, asking him not to go. 
Would she be different, he wondered, if I had stayed?

Everything changes.

He opened his eyes to find her staring back up at him - her eyes that deep brown
he knew he remembered.  They were the same.  They would always be the same. "I
love you, Logan," she whispered.

That, then, was the look.  The look he couldn't make out, didn't know how to
register.

Leaning down, he placed his face in the crook of her neck.  He began to move
inside of her again, waiting for the end.







[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Title: The Devil You Don't
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary:  "And yet it is the unknown, with all its disappointments and
surprises, that is the most enriching."
Series: Fragments #3 - sequel to "A Question of Trust"
Rating: R - language, sexual situations
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool, otherwise, just let me know you're taking
it.
Feedback: Feed me, Seymour!
Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. This is my attempt to provide
a good-guy Gambit *and* closure, all in one neat package. <g>

This has only gone through one round of beta'ing, so any errors are
mine. Point them out if you see any, please, but do it privately.
Thanks.

{   } indicates POV

~*~

The Devil You Don't

"We tend not to choose the unknown, which might be a shock or a
disappointment or simply a little difficult to cope with. And yet it is
the unknown, with all its disappointments and surprises, that is the
most enriching."

~*~

{Logan}

I don't know what's happened, but something's different. Jeannie's not
flirting with me like she used to. Maybe she noticed that my heart ain't
in it anymore. I don't know. But she and Scott just announced their
wedding date. No more putting it off -- I think they're really going to
do it this time.

And I'm actually kind of happy for 'em. I didn't expect that. It's rare
to see two people who love each other so much. I know Jean and I don't,
which is why it's okay. Don't get me wrong, I'd fuck her six ways from
Sunday if I had the chance, and I know it'd be good. But that would be
it. There wouldn't be anything else but sex.

I never believed that there *could* be anything more than sex, not until
I saw her and Scott and the way they seem to fit together. Not until I
held Marie's lifeless body that night at the Statue of Liberty, and
realized she meant more to me than anyone I had ever met. I started to
wonder if she and I could fit like that.

I know I shouldn't think stuff like that about her. Even if she is
twenty-one now, she's just a kid, still. Got a lot of growing up to
do -- a lot of learning about life and a lot of experiences to have.

Shit. She better not be experiencing anything with that Cajun prick.

I know, I know. I'm being all dog in the manger, but Marie is my
responsibility, and if he does anything to hurt her--

*Snikt*

"Are you okay, Logan?"

Shit. How did Storm sneak up on me like that? And the claws -- got to
put away the claws.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm all right, 'Ro."

She sighs. "Everyone thinks you are upset because of Jean's announcement
at dinner last night." I don't say anything. People can think whatever
they want about me. I don't care. It's probably better if they do think
that. I can only imagine what they'd think if they knew what I wanted to
do with Marie.

"I don't think that," she continues, startling me out of my thoughts.
Man, when did I get so distracted? "Rogue does not love Remy. She's
going to break his heart."

I blink. Several times. "What?"

"I said--"

"I heard what you said, Ororo. What the hell does it have to do with
me?"

"I know how you feel about her," Storm says matter-of-factly. "I see it
in your eyes as you look at them." I open my mouth to deny it, but she
just keeps talking. "I know because I see the same look in my eyes when
I look in the mirror."

"You're in love with Marie?" I ask, like an idiot. She laughs and I
realize, "Gumbo. You want the Cajun."

"Very perceptive of you, Logan," she answers. "So, what are you going to
do about it?"

I shrug. I hadn't planned on doing anything. I'm staying away from the
kid. I don't want to hurt her.

"You think about it," she says, walking away. "Let me know if you come
up with something."

I shrug again. I already made my decision. I'm not going to let Storm's
situation change my mind.

I sit back and continue my contemplation of Marie and her Cajun
boyfriend. I know they can feel me staring, and I hope it bothers them.
Because watching them together damn sure bothers me.


{Remy}

I can see out of the corner of my eye that Wolverine is watching us. He
watches us all the time now. I lean in a little closer and whisper in
Rogue's ear.

"He be watchin' us, chere."

She inclines her head a little, giving me access to her neck, and
laughs. I love the sound of her laughter. When I came to the mansion,
she was always so solemn, grave even. Her eyes were so big and sad, and
I just felt it in my heart that I had to protect her. I think every man
in the place feels that way about her. My heart belongs to Stormy --
always has, even though I don't really show it -- but Rogue and me -- we
understand each other.

"Let's give him a show, then," she says, twining her arms around my neck
and blowing in my ear.

I lean down and press kisses to her neck through the sheer scarf she's
wearing.

When I first told her my idea, that we should get together and wait it
out for the ones we loved, she thought I was crazy. I admit it sounds
strange. And really, she probably shouldn't have trusted me. Most people
here don't. That's okay -- they know what I am. But it seemed like the
only way to get her, and mon dieu, I wanted her. She's untouchable,
unapproachable -- the perfect lure for a con artist like me -- the grand
prize in the game of love.

I am not above playing dirty to get what I want, and Rogue wasn't
falling into my arms like I'd planned, so presenting her with the plan
to get Wolverine was a stroke of genius. I never expected that I'd
actually go through with it, though.

I mean, I'm Remy LeBeau, Prince of Thieves. I steal hearts as easily as
I steal wallets. But I quickly learned that ma chere's heart was locked
up tight and guarded by those damn adamantium claws. Since I couldn't
offer her mine in return -- I'm dishonest, but I couldn't do that to
her, lie about that once I got to know her -- I decided it was all
right.

And so we waited and watched, worked and hoped. And had some damn good
times along the way, if I do say so myself. I'm able to make the
sad-eyed girl laugh, and I know it burns Logan every time he hears it.

Merde! The man is denser than the metal in his bones. Jean is beautiful,
but anyone with eyes could see she'd never leave Cyclops. Just like
anyone can see that Rogue belongs with Logan. Anyone but him,
apparently.

That's okay. My goddess, so perceptive when it comes to others, believes
I am in love with the southern belle. And I, though it pains me, have
let her think that. But I know the day of reckoning is at hand. Rogue
will go to Logan tonight. That is the plan. And I will go to Ororo and
confess my love.

I could make her love me -- I have the gift of empathy, though no one
here knows it -- but for once, I want to do it the hard way. I want her
love to be real, not something I manipulated, like the cards in my
pocket.

"He's coming over," Rogue murmurs, bringing me back to the moment.

I grin widely. "Your hairy man finally seein' de light, petite," I
breathe, so softly even his hearing can't pick it up. I give her one
last quick kiss on the forehead, and melt into the shadows of the late
afternoon.

The game is over for her, but for me, it's just beginning.


{Ororo}

I am calm. I am centered. I breathe in and out, feeling my place in the
world. I am so deep in my meditation that I cannot say how long I've
been gone, but I suddenly feel eyes on me and it jolts me out of my
trance.

Demon's eyes.

Remy is staring at me, and suddenly I realize I am naked.

I grew up in a culture where nudity was commonplace, and I have none of
the "hang-ups" that Americans do about it, but Remy's unblinking stare
flusters me.

I reach behind me for my robe, but he's already there, holding it out.

Why am I nervous? I've known this man for many years. He is one of my
dearest friends, yet I see the look in his eyes, and it unnerves me. I
feel the warmth between my thighs at his nearness, and I chide myself
for wanting what I cannot have.

"Stormy," he whispers, "Look out the window."

"I have told you not to call me that!" I say, but my words lack the
proper indignation as his hands caress my shoulders, propelling me
toward the window.

I see Logan, towering over Rogue. They are having an argument. It has
all the earmarks of a lovers' quarrel. She turns to walk away and he
spins her around; his body language is that of a suppliant before his
goddess, begging for forgiveness.

"I am so sorry, Remy," I say, though my heart sings at the idea that he
could be mine, that Logan has finally realized that he loves Rogue, and
she has released Remy into my care.

"Non, chere. Nothin' to be sorry for. We planned it this way, le petite
and I. She gets her hairy man, and I get my goddess, if she'll have me,"
he whispers, his breath brushing over my ear, sending shivers down my
spine.

It's as if he heard my thoughts about Logan and Rogue.

"What are you saying?" I ask, and curse the breathlessness of my tone.

"You're the one for this thief, chere. I've been dreamin' of you for
ages now, 'Roro." He leans down and kisses my neck softly. My eyes drift
close and I rest against him, feeling his lean, taut body, pressed up
against me. His hand cups my chin and he turns my face to his. "I gotta
know, chere -- do I have a chance?"

His eyes, so strange and yet so endearing, are lit from behind with
fire. His heart is in them, and I feel myself trying to get even closer
to him.

"Yes."

It's barely a sigh, but he doesn't need to hear it, he can feel it --
that is how little distance is left between us. I turn, my robe undone,
and now I am kissing him. His eyes are intent on mine, but they close
and his head tilts back. He whimpers as I trail my lips down his neck,
reaching the sensitive place beneath his ear.

We somehow wind up on the bed, limbs entangled. I do not worry about the
details. I have the man who stole my heart, my Prince of Thieves, and I
plan to get to know him better, starting right now.

It may have begun as a game to him, but I mean to show him that one
doesn't trifle with a goddess. When this is done, I know I will have his
heart, much as he has mine.


{Rogue}

Remy leaves as Logan walks over. I swallow and try to calm myself. I've
had this moment planned for years, but now that it's here, I'm not sure
if I can go through with it.

This is do or die, I tell myself. Either he goes for it, or I'll lose
even the friendship I've come to depend on so desperately.

"What'd the prick do to you now, kid?" Logan asks casually, but he
radiates tension. It's making me nauseous.

I shrug. "Nothing. I broke it off with him. I don't love him." Come on,
Logan, take the bait.

All he says is, "Oh." He studies his shoes as though they're the most
interesting thing he's ever seen.

Shit.

"Yeah. I didn't think it was fair, you know, to string him along when I
know I don't love him, and Storm does."

His head snaps up. Aha! A reaction.

"Am I the only one who doesn't know this stuff?" His aggrieved tone
makes me laugh, which softens his expression. But then he grows serious.
"What if he doesn't love her back?"

"He does."

Logan arches an eyebrow, and I shrug again. Nothing like that careless
shoulder movement to convey everything and nothing. I learned that from
him.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next. I see his
eyes are drawn to my cleavage, which feels bare without his tags
nestling between my breasts. He frowns, and I know he notices their
absence.

I pull them from my pocket and hold them out to him.

"This is my day for breaking things off, I guess," I say, after the
silence has become unbearable. "I can't be your little Marie anymore, so
I should give these back."

Something flashes across his face, so quickly I can't identify it. "No."

I try to smile, but it feels more like a pained grimace. It hurts my
face. "Yeah."

"No," he says again, with more feeling behind it. "I made you a promise,
kid, and I'm keeping it. Those tags are a pledge--"

I hold up a hand. I don't want to hear this. "I'm releasing you from it.
I'm not a kid anymore, Logan, and I don't need your protection. I want
more than that from you." Shit, that slipped out, earlier than I wanted
it to, and more desperate-sounding than I planned.

"I, I can't, Marie. I can't give you that." He sounds terrible, like
it's really hurting him to say it. I guess it is. I mean, I know he
loves me. I've seen it in his thoughts and feelings. It hurts him to
hurt me like this. But he's got this *stupid* idea that he's no good for
me.

"You can," I respond, "but you won't." He opens his mouth, but I don't
let him speak. I'm not done yet. "You think you're too old, but I'm
grown now. You spend all your time looking for a past that doesn't even
matter, because whatever it is, it's gone. You can't get it back. The
present and the future are what's important, but you're always looking
backwards, so you can't see that." I'm working up a good head of steam
now, really letting him have it -- four years of repressed feelings are
spilling out.

"You're a coward, Logan." Ooh, that got him. He stiffens, eyes narrowing
and nostrils flaring, but I don't care. I'm sick of keeping my feelings
hidden; I'm getting it all out now. "You don't reach out and take what's
right in front of you -- instead you moon over Jean like a lovesick
teenager. You know you don't love her, or she, you, but you're too
damned scared to actually take a chance with someone you *do* love, who
loves you back.

"Well, I'm done with it, Logan. Either you admit how you feel about me,
or we're over -- whatever this is between us -- is over." I turn and
begin walking away. I can feel the tears threatening as he says nothing.
I close my eyes, praying that I can make it to my room before I break
down.

He follows, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him. "Marie,"
he says hoarsely, and the look on his face damn near breaks my heart.
"I--" He closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already-wild hair.
He sounds angry when he says, "You-- Dammit, Marie, I love you. Are you
happy now?"

Actually, I kinda am, but he's not done, and I have a feeling I'm not
going to like the rest of what he has to say.

"I'm trying to do right by you, darlin'. Can't you see that? I want you
to be happy, and I don't think I'm the man who can do that."

"Well, not having you is making me very *unhappy*, Logan! I understand
you're scared. It's a scary thing -- this -- whatever it is we have. But
I think it's also a good thing, a great thing, even. And I want to see
if we can make it work."

"Marie, baby, you know I'd die for you--" He pulls me closer as he's
talking, and I'm practically in his arms, which is right where I want to
be.

"I know, sugar," I say softly, gently caressing his cheek. "But what I
really want to know is if you'll *live* for me, Logan, and live with
me."

When he comes to a decision, he doesn't answer with words at first.
Instead, he drags me against his chest, pinning me there with a hand at
the small of my back. His other hand dangles the dogtags as he works the
chain over my head. Then he kisses me, brushing his lips against my
hair, where it's safe, and whispers in my ear.

"Yes," he says. "I will."

And he casts fate to the winds, pressing a searing kiss to my lips
through my scarf. He chooses the unknown, and I believe he's making the
right choice.

Fin

~~*~~

The quote is from Anne Morrow Lindbergh.


victoria

--

"Screw the dead. What have their moldering asses ever done for me?" Mike
Kellerman, _Homicide: Life on the Street_

--

The Muse's Fool - http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
Unfit for Society - http://www.unfitforsociety.net

Enquiring Minds 2/2

For disclaimers, etc., see part one.

*****

*SNIKT*

That didn't take long.  Logan's awake and not too happy about it.
He's rolled off the stretcher and backed away from Rogue and I, claws
up and teeth bared.

~Charles,~ I call out with my mind.  ~He's awake.~

*Very well, Jean.*

"Logan," Rogue says, holding out her hand towards him in a comforting
gesture.  "It's ok.  You're safe."

He doesn't answer her, doesn't even acknowledge her presence.  His
eyes are fixed completely on me.

"You... Needle," he grunts.

It's then that I realize what great danger I'm in.  Anger,
frustration, and fear is pouring off of him in waves, and it's all
directed at me.  I'd had to sedate him a few times for treatment and
to prevent him from harming himself.  He obviously remembers.

He growls at me, and like prey before a predator, I freeze.  I have
to get out of here, but if I run, will he chase me down?  My heart
jackhammers in my chest as I look at those long, gleaming claws that
could slice through me without effort.  I can't run, but I can't stay
frozen like this.  I have to move.  Putting my hands up in a
placating gesture, I slowly start to back away.

"Logan, I'm not going to hurt you.  No one is.  We've healed you.
You're free."

His penetrating eyes pull away from mine as he takes in his
surroundings, sniffing and scanning the area.  With one more
terrifying growl, he turns, running into the forest.

I watch him go, relief flooding me, when Rogue cries, "Logan!  Wait!"

He doesn't stop, but instead of watching him go, Rogue picks up the
backpack of supplies we'd brought with us and runs after him.

"Rogue, no!" I call to the young woman, but she ignores me, following
his trail into the woods.

*Jean, let her go,* Charles speaks to my mind.  *He will not harm
her.*

~Are you sure, Charles?  The emotions I felt from him...~

*Were directed at you,* he said, completing my sentence.  *Rogue is
probably the only person he'll trust right now.  Let her try to bring
him back.*

-----

That's how it began.  Every day for hours at a time, Rogue would
disappear into the woods.  She'd take Logan food, clothes, blankets,
cigars, toilet paper, anything he needed.

I wanted to sit down and talk to her about his condition for days,
but I was either busy with Charles in the Med Lab or she was outside
with Logan.  Then, one afternoon, I found her in the kitchen.

"Rogue, how's Logan?"

The young woman jumped, placing a hand over her heart as she turned
away from the refrigerator and closed the door.  "Jean, you scared
me...  Logan's doing better."

"Will he come back into the mansion?"

"He doesn't want to talk about it.  He doesn't really want to talk
about anything.  His camp has moved closer to the mansion, though.
That's a good sign."

"Yes," I agree and then decide to bring up the next subject.  It's
been pestering me, on and off, ever since Logan's return.  Sometimes,
I'd completely forget about it, only to have it come back in full
force when I was getting ready for bed or waking up in the morning.

"Rogue, how did you know Logan was in trouble last week?  The
professor told us you came and told him to check Cerebro."

"Yeah, I had a dream where I saw Logan was trapped, but I knew it was
real."

A dream?  "Can you tell me exactly what it was like?"

"Uh, well, I was dreaming about Logan and then, all of a sudden, I
was in his head.  All I could see was blood, concrete, and wooden
boxes.  There was something on my back, and I felt pain, anger,
terror.  I could hear Logan's voice in my head, and he was ranting
about being trapped and needing to escape."

That's exactly what it'd been like when we found Logan.  How did she
know?

"Have you ever felt anything like this before or since from Logan or
anyone else you've touched?"

She blinks at me, confused, and then says, "No.  Never.  But, he was
really in trouble, so he had to contact me, right?  He just hasn't
needed to since."

"Maybe," I answer, not convinced.

I'd thought that maybe she'd believed him to be in trouble because
she naturally worried about him, and it'd just been a fluke that he
actually needed help.  From what she'd described of the experience,
though, she had actually been in Logan's head.

We've done tests on her mutation and Rogue is not a telepath.  From
what I can tell, part of her mutation makes her a touch-telepath,
absorbing other people's thoughts and personalities, but without
touch, she shouldn't be able to make contact no matter how desperate
someone is to reach her.  Either the DNA tests are wrong, which I
doubt, or she had help.

Now there's something I don't want to consider.  Charles and I are
the only telepaths in the mansion strong enough to connect two
ungifted minds, but why would Charles have given Rogue that
connection?  If he'd known that Logan was in trouble, why didn't he
just send us to help him?  How did he even know Logan was hurt in the
first place?

"Jean?"

I snapped out of my reverie at Rogue's question.

"I'm fine, Rogue.  If you have any problems or things you need for
Logan, let me know.  Tell him that we all hope he'll come back in
soon."

She smiles at me and says, "I will," before opening the refrigerator
again and returning her attention to its contents, probably getting
something for Logan.

-----

Weeks later, I enter the Med Lab to see a smiling Charles Xavier
being helped through his physical therapy by an equally smiling Dr.
Henry McCoy.

Hank was one of Charles's first students, but like most of my class,
he left the mansion upon graduation.  Over the years, he's become a
doctor and researcher of great renown, thanks to his genius and an
image-enhancing device that hides his mutant body behind a more human-
like projection.  He's only returned to the mansion at Charles's
request to help in his recovery.

The smiling is contagious, and I find my ever increasing worries
about Charles flee as I join them in their happiness.

"Looking good, gentlemen."

"Yes," Hank said in agreement, "the professor is quickly mastering
the parallel bars and will shortly progress to a walker."

"Wonderful, Charles."

"I envy you your momentous discovery, Jean," Hank adds.  "The
preponderance of research in this field has never led to a
satisfactory patient prognosis."

"It wasn't research, Hank, it was luck.  You're welcome to read my
notes, but if you want to examine samples, I'm afraid there's nothing
left."

Hank looked down at Charles with a puzzled expression.  "I was led to
believe the donor still resides here."

"Yes, but he's suffered through a very traumatic experience.  He's
not willing to come into the mansion, let alone be examined.  The
only way we got the samples was because he was unconscious."

Hank looks even more confused.  "But, from the meticulous data you've
recorded, I must conclude that several pints of blood as well as
spinal fluid was used in this cure."

"Yes."

Now, Hank's eyes widen in surprise and shock.  "You extracted those
fluids without patient consent?"

When he puts it like that, it sounds so wrong.  I hadn't felt any
regret or guilt when I'd done it, but now, I can feel my chest
clenching in remorse at my actions.  What was I thinking?  How could
I do that to a patient?  Then I realize, I hadn't been thinking of
Logan at all when I did it.  Not as a patient, anyway.  More like he
was a means to an end, a way to heal Charles.  Not even as a way to
heal all people in Charles's situation, just a way to heal him.

Hank and Charles are smiling again, and even laughing as they work
through the exercises.  They've jumped, moved from one point in the
room to another without my noticing.  I could've sworn I was just
talking with Hank about something...  Now that I try to remember,
though, the thoughts float away, nebulous and unformed.

"Hank, were we just talking about something?"

"Yes, about Charles's remarkable recovery."

That sounds right, but it doesn't feel right.  I thought there'd been
something more.

-----

I wake up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night with one
thought on my mind: the military base was wrong.  I'd just been
dreaming about how and where we'd found Logan over a month ago, and
the memory had overlapped with the thoughts I'd received the night
when I first met Logan,  The base where we'd found him *couldn't* be
the place where he'd gotten his adamantium.  There were clues, and
once I saw the events side by side, they became startlingly
apparent.

Charles had told me that Logan left the mansion to search for his
past.  What had he been doing in a place with no connection to his
past?  What's more, how did that crate of rusted steel parts happen
to fall on him?  An earthquake?  Now that I think of it, that crate
was the only one disturbed in the area.  The rest had remained in
neat stacks.

I want to ask Logan about this, but not only is it the middle of the
night, he's still avoiding everyone but Rogue, and she doesn't think
he remembers much about what happened.  If I want to know, I have to
go there.

Getting out of bed as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb my
fiancee, I quickly change into jeans and a T-shirt before slipping
out of the room.

For some reason, I feel time pressing down on me.  I have to get to
Alberta quickly before something happens or my absence is noticed.
Even a turbo-powered car will take over a day.  I could take one of
the mini-jets, but everyone in the mansion will hear the take-off.  I
decide my best bet is to tow one of the mini-jets away from the
mansion with the 4x4 and then take off once I'm out of range.

It's 2:30 in the morning by the time I'm airborne, and it'll take
four hours of flight time to get there.  However, the edginess and
apprehension I've been living with since we found Logan is fading
away now that I'm finally taking action.

-----

It's a tank manufacturing plant.  It has absolutely nothing to do
with Logan, nothing to do with mutants or experimentation at all.
Why did Logan come here searching for his past?

The plant is the same as we'd left it, and I'm right.  The only crate
out of place is the one that struck Logan.  When I climb the stacks,
I can see that the dust has recently been disturbed.  Someone was up
here.  Someone who pushed that crate down onto Logan.  How could he
not smell them?  Why did they do it?

I climb back down to look at where Logan had lain for so long.  The
grooves his claws had made in the concrete were deep and numerous.
He must have been here for days trying to free himself, not knowing
if anyone would ever find him.

'Why?' I ask myself, and then everything comes together, and I have
my answer.  Who would benefit from Logan's injury?  Charles.  He's
walking now because of what I'd learned while Logan healed.

No.  He's like a father to me.  He'd never hurt another person, no
matter what the benefits to himself.  But then, he's the only person
who could have done it and who gained because of it.

*So, Jean.  You've discovered my little secret.*

His voice came clear to my mind in the silence of the defunct plant.

~You hurt Logan and let Rogue see so he'd be rescued and you'd have
your cure.~

*Yes.*

~Why, Rogue?  She's not a telepath.~

*It wasn't meant to be a telepathic connection, just a vague sense
that something was wrong.  Logan's emotions came through more
strongly than I'd expected.*

~Why did you do that to Logan?  You always taught me never to use my
mind to control others.~

*No, I didn't.  I taught you to use your powers for the betterment of
all people.  I've controlled other's minds on more than one
occasion.  You didn't balk when I controlled Sabretooth and Toad in
an effort to rescue Rogue.*

~That's different.  You weren't hurting them or sacrificing them to
your goals.~

*I allowed Magneto to take Rogue in order to save the lives of all
those officers.  I sacrificed her for the greater good.*

~No.  You didn't know that she'd be hurt.~

*Erik wasn't taking her for fun.  Of course I knew she'd be hurt.  I
weighed that risk against the lives of those men and made a decision.*

~You didn't hurt Logan for the greater good.  You hurt him to heal
yourself.~

*I have dedicated my life to the development of human/mutant
relations.  Don't you think I'd be more effective if I could walk?  I
could travel all over, not limited in any way.  I could even fight
with the X-Men, and not send you children out to win my battles
alone.*

~You hurt Logan.~

*He's healed.*

~Not mentally.  Not emotionally.~

*He will in time.  He's done it before.*

~You can't get away with this.  I won't let you.  You can't be
trusted to care for all those children anymore.~

*Nothing has changed, Jean.  I'm still the same man who rescued you
from a life of insanity and taught you to block out and control the
voices in your mind.*

~No.  I don't know you anymore.  Scott and I are leaving, and I'm
telling everyone what you've done.~

*Frankly, Jean, how do you expect to do that?*

I'm suddenly struck by mind shattering pain.  My mind is on fire
under his mental assault.  He's been teaching me to control my
powers, but I'm not... I can't fight against such overpowering
strength.  Still, I try.

I focus all my emotions, fear, betrayal, anger, remorse, and strike
him with them like a sword.  His onslaught weakens under my barrage,
but then he gathers himself and strikes again, using my own emotions
as well as his own to bring me down.  I can't breathe, can't feel,
can't think.  There's nothing... nothing.

-----

"Jean?"  Scott's voice bombards my senses.

My whole body hurts, even the air aches where it strikes my bare
skin.  I don't want to wake up.  I want to return to the cocooning
nothingness I'd just been wrapped in.  However, Scott's voice is
insistent.

"Hank, I think she's waking up.  Open your eyes, Jean."

He won't go away, until I do something, so I humor him, squinting my
eyes open against the bright Med Lab lights.

"Jean, thank heavens.  We were so worried."  Scott leans down and
kisses a fiery trail on my cheek.  "You've been out for almost a
week."

A week?  What happened?  What's going on?  I try to ask these
questions and more, but my voice comes out as barely a squeak.  Hank,
grabs a glass of water and puts the straw to my mouth.  It's cool and
refreshing and I want more, but he pulls it away.

"Slowly, Jean," he admonishes before returning the straw to my mouth.

I take the fluid more slowly until I feel like I can talk.

"Hank?  What?  How?" I mumble.

"You succumbed to a high-grade fever.  My bacteriological and viral
tests were unable to determine the cause, but your fever broke last
night and you appear to be recovering now."

"What... are you... doing here?" I gasp out.

Hank looks at me puzzled.  "I came to help Charles's rehabilitation.
Don't you remember?"

"Jean," Charles says from off to my left.  "Welcome back."

I turn in that direction to look at him, but where his face would be,
I only see his hands gripping a walker.  My gaze rises until I meet
his eyes where he stands.

"He's... standing," I say, incredulous.

"Jean," Scott says, his voice betraying his worry.  "What's the last
thing you remember?"

"Uh, yesterday... I splinted Kitty's ankle."

They all exchange worried glances and then Scott answers.  "Jean,
Kitty sprained her ankle over a month ago."

"What?  What... happened to me?"

"I woke up to find you gone last Friday," Scott answers.  "It took
most of the day before we found you feverish in the woods."

I shake my head.  No matter how hard I try, and I am trying...  "I
don't remember," I croak out.

Charles hobbles towards me using his walker before putting a tender
hand to my forehead.  "Don't worry, my child.  I'll try to help you
find what you've lost."

His hand is so gentle on my wet brow, like a father's.  I trust him
completely.

*****

The End.

Title: A Touch of Frost
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: "But the girl, as is often the case, was under a curse . . .
Luckily for her, she had a prince."
Rating: R - language
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool, if you want it, just ask me.
Feedback: Feed the monkey!
Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete for being spanking good betas.
More notes at the end, so I don't spoil the story.

~~*~~

A Touch of Frost

It began, as these things always do, once upon a time. A time in the
not-so-distant future, in a place not so far away. A place called Salem
Center, in Westchester, New York.

There was a girl. There always is. And this one was beautiful. She had
large, chocolate eyes, full, coral lips, and skin the color of finest
cream. Her hair was dark and marked with two white stripes that framed
her heart-shaped face.

But the girl, as is often the case, was under a curse. She could never
be touched. Her skin was lethal as the blade of a knife, killing with
much less kindness. And her enemies were not the only ones who'd felt
its sting. She herself was changed, forced to absorb new personalities
and memories into her own, to live with others inside what should have
been the sanctuary of her own head.

And so she lived, beautiful and alone, an outcast among outcasts, at
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Luckily for her, she had a prince.

He wasn't much of a prince, being rough and ill-mannered -- more
inclined to brawl and growl than socialize with her friends -- but he
loved her, and she him. And while he was poor of pocket and had not much
in the way of earthly possessions -- hadn't even the memories of most of
his long life -- he was rich at heart with honor, loyalty and affection
for his friends, though he'd never admit it aloud.

He rescued her from her enemies and saved her life not once, but twice
(three times, she whispered softly, lying awake late at night, clutching
the metal dog tags he'd left her as a talisman, praying for his safety),
and then gone questing for his past.

Upon his return, several months later, they fell into a friendship that
both believed would survive all tests; the bond between them was
stronger than the adamantium lining his bones.

A year passed, and then two. The girl grew into a woman. The love she
felt for him still burned brightly in her breast. The feelings he had
for her transmuted, like lead into gold, from friendly affection to
passionate love.

He continued to travel in search of his lost past, but he always
returned to her. Another year, and they moved beyond mere flirtatious
friendship to the exchange of kisses -- chaste at first, hesitant on her
part, her fear of harming him almost overwhelming her desire. He
marveled at his own patience. He -- who had never waited a moment for
anything, but took what he wanted when he wanted it -- allowed her to
set the pace. He knew she was too precious to rush, and he worked at
overcoming her fears.

Kisses and caresses between them grew heated, until he thought he would
die from wanting her. Words of love were exchanged, and promises of a
life spent together were sworn.

But the past has a way of seizing hold and not releasing its iron grip
until one faces all its demons.

He left again, reluctantly this time, secretly longing to take her with
him as he searched yet another ruined building for a past that was
beginning to lose its meaning for him.

He left again, and she prayed he'd take her with him, prayed he'd take
her and make her his own while they were out on the road. She wanted to
share in this quest as she shared in every other aspect of his life. She
knew that he would find it hard to move into the future while constantly
searching for his past.

He left again, and this time, his return coincided with the chill days
of autumn. It was a less than joyous homecoming.

He was different. He'd always been moody, gruff -- some said callous --
in his treatment of others. Only with her did his softer side surface.
But this time, even she could not temper his tongue or tame his rage.

His first night back, a reunion she'd imagined would be filled with joy
and love, brought not soft words and sweet caresses, but demands and
rough hands on her body.

Only at the moment of his climax did he suddenly open his eyes and look
at her, his eyes filled with anguish and his voice hoarse with something
more than passion. "Marie, save me."

She didn't understand, but she loved him, so she said, "Yes, Logan. I
will."

He used her roughly, and she let him, her love surviving even the
rapidly darkening bruises on her alabaster skin.

He, who prided himself on his skills as a lover, left her unfulfilled,
shaken and crying, her fantasy shattered by his brutal reality. He
didn't hold her afterward and whisper words of comfort. He stood, pulled
his clothes on in the dark, and returned to his own room.

It went on like that for almost a week. Six days of shadowed eyes and
harsh words; six nights of his hands bruising her hips, marking her as
his own, even as he begged her to save him. His behavior tore at her
heart and she was confused by the changes in him.

The seventh night, after coming to the conclusion that she could no
longer live like this, she followed him. She took care to stay downwind,
and used all the tricks he'd taught her over the years of their
friendship, to remain unnoticed in the cold October night.

He went to a bar. Not his usual dive, but an upscale, trendy bar in
Manhattan. Dressed in black, with her haunted eyes and unusual hair,
Marie had no problem getting past the bouncer.

She scanned the room and found him almost immediately. She felt her
heart break within her chest. He was with another woman. And *such* a
woman.

She was tall, with long, blonde hair. She wore a white leather halter
dress that clung to every curve and left little to the imagination. Her
eyes were blue and cold; they missed nothing. Worst of all, though, was
that she could be touched. And Logan was touching her, his hands
caressing her body with the same controlled violence that had marked
Marie's nights this past week.

She turned away. Fighting her way to the bar, she was startled when the
bartender put a glass of bourbon down in front of her.

"From the lady in white," he said, jerking his chin.

Marie looked up, startled, and the woman grinned at her and raised a
glass in a silent toast. Then she turned and pressed an open-mouthed
kiss on Logan's lips that he returned enthusiastically.

Rogue knocked back the shot of bourbon, slammed the glass on the bar,
and walked out. She felt something tickling in the back of her mind, as
though fingers were trying to get hold of her, but couldn't quite manage
to do so.

She shook her head and sped back to Westchester. She needed to talk to
someone about what she had seen.

***

Jean was in the kitchen when Rogue arrived home. She had long since
gotten over whatever jealousy she'd felt toward the redheaded woman, and
now she needed a friend, someone to confide in.

"Logan's seeing another woman," she said without preamble, before
bursting into tears. Jean wordlessly held her arms open, and Marie
poured out her tale of woe amidst her sobs.

Jean didn't need her telepathy to know who the woman was.

"Logan's in trouble," Jean said softly. "He's in the power of the White
Queen. He's not himself."

Rogue shook her head. "I don't, I don't understand," she said,
sniffling. Her eyes were red and swollen, but the tears had finally
stopped.

Jean gently took the younger woman's face in her hands, using the
younger woman's hair to shield herself from the Rogue's deadly touch.

"The White Queen, Emma Frost, is a very powerful telepath. Only Charles
is stronger. She's controlling Logan for some reason, making him hurt
you."

"But now that we know," the Professor himself said, entering the
kitchen, "we can combat her powers."

***

Logan didn't come home that night, nor the next, and Marie began to
worry. How could they put their plan into effect if Logan wasn't around?

The Professor reassured her -- he had no doubt that the White Queen
would appear at the annual Halloween Ball at the mansion, which was
three nights hence.

As usual, the Professor was right.

The Ball was the beginning of the social season in Westchester society
and everyone who was anyone would be in attendance.

The ballroom was decorated in all the colors of autumn, and the guests
wore brightly colored costumes. There were superheroes and sailors,
knights in shining armor and their ladies fair, clowns and cats and
creatures so fantastical that they had to be seen to be believed.

Rogue stood in a corner of the ballroom, the green of her costume
allowing her to blend into the green of the potted palm behind which she
was hidden.

Xavier assured her that there was no need to dress for action -- now
that they knew the Hellfire Club was planning an assault during the
festivities, they could feed the correct misinformation to Logan, who
would pass it onto the White Queen. The X-Men would be ready to take
their enemies into custody.

But still Rogue worried. She had thrown together what everyone called
her Robin Hood costume, though it reality it made her look like a
woodland nymph come to life. Her legs were encased in green tights
tucked into little black boots and she wore a green silk sheath that
fell to mid-thigh, leaving her the ability to move quickly and fight if
she needed to. Her arms were covered in matching silk opera gloves, and
on her head she wore a funny little hat. A bow and quiver were slung
over one shoulder.

She had sworn to stay alert, but her nerves jangled. She was on her
third gin and tonic when she noticed them. She hadn't seen them arrive,
and cursed her inattentiveness. Though how anyone could have missed the
entrance of that strange and beautiful couple was a mystery.

The White Queen was dressed as Diana, Huntress and goddess of the moon.
She wore a short white leather skirt and a bustier of the same material,
as well as thigh-high white leather boots with stiletto heels. A white
and silver mask glittering with diamante beads covered her eyes and
nose.

Logan stood at her side, silent and solemn as death, in black. Only the
gleam of his teeth when he leaned down to whisper in the woman's ear
relieved the stark splendor of his dress. Even his hands were gloved in
black leather.

They laughed and danced together, and Marie watched, her heart aching to
see him with another woman after all the pain he had caused. Finally,
when Emma wrapped her arms around her escort and kissed him deeply,
Rogue had seen enough.

She went to the bar and ordered another drink. Walking across the dance
floor, she made her way to the couple.

"Hello, Logan," she said, loud enough to be heard over the music, to
break into their seemingly romantic moment.

He pulled away from the White Queen's embrace.

"Hey, kid. Now that I've found a real woman, why don't you go play with
boys your own age? Come back in a few years, after you know what you're
doin', and maybe I'll give you a ride for old times' sake."

She gasped at his callousness and, without thinking, tossed her drink in
his face before rushing out of the ballroom.

The feeling of everyone staring at him, as well as the sting of alcohol
in his eyes, seemed to jolt Logan into a new awareness of his situation.
He growled and bared his teeth, and everyone went back to their own
conversations.

He looked down at the woman glittering in his arms and shook his head.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up," he told her, pulling off a glove and
running a hand through his hair. "I'll be back."

"I'll be waiting," she purred, sure as ever of her power over him.

He moved quickly through the throng of people, tracking Marie by scent.
He knew he had to work fast -- his window of opportunity was small,
smaller than even he realized.

By the time he found her out in the garden, the White Queen was in
control again, and he heard vague whisperings in his mind that he had to
end it with Marie once and for all.

Emma followed him, and, at a discreet distance, Xavier and Jean followed
her.

Marie started at his sudden appearance. Her arms were wrapped around her
chest against the chill night air.

"Logan," she said, her voice very near to tears, "please try to remember
what we shared."

He laughed, and it wasn't a pleasant sound. "What we shared, kid? What
kinda bullshit is that? We didn't share anything but sex."

"No," she whispered, "we loved each other."

But he continued, inexorably. "What makes you think I ever loved you?
What makes you think you were ever more than a quick fuck, and not a
very good one, at that?"

He laughed again as the tears she'd held back for so long spilled over.
<This is not happening,> she told herself. <This is not Logan saying
these things. That woman is making him do this.>

Marie looked at him, heart in her eyes, as he paced before her, suddenly
angry.

"Goddammit, Rogue," and he'd never called her that when they were alone,
which gave her some hope and some strength, even as it pained her to
hear it, "what the hell do you want from me? It's over. Just leave me
alone. I found a real woman, one I can touch, so I don't need you
anymore."

"So, I -- I never meant anything to you?" she managed finally. She put
her hands behind her back, slowly easing one glove off. If Jean and the
Professor weren't going to put a stop to this, she was.

He strode closer, and snaked an arm around her waist, cupping her cheek
in his one gloved hand. "No, baby," he said venomously, "but if you're
that eager, I suppose I could give you one last throw for old times'
sake."

Rogue's chin snapped up and out his grasp at that, and her bare hand
came into contact with his behind her back.

They gasped as the connection opened, and she felt him pouring into her,
but it wasn't him alone -- there was a foreign mind caught up with his.

She pulled away, weeping, and he fell to the ground.

Jean ran forward to examine him while Xavier wheeled over to where Emma
lay, panicked and drained by the distant touch.

"I think you're finished," he said, his voice full of iron, as the woman
pulled herself together. Scott and Hank appeared behind her, and they
took her down to the lower levels, where they would hold her for
questioning before turning her over to the police.

Jean and Rogue knelt at Logan's side.

"I think he's going to be fine," Jean said softly, trying to reassure
the younger woman, who was now draped across her lover's body, sobbing
against his chest.

His eyes opened, and he stroked her hair gingerly. "Marie? Darlin'? Is
that you?" he asked hoarsely.

She looked up, her eyes shining with tears and love and Halloween
moonlight.

"Yeah, sugar."

"I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't want to say those things--"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "It's all right. I got you up here
again," she tapped the side of her head, "so I know it was all that evil
bitch."

The White Queen learned that while she controlled Logan's mind, she
didn't own his soul, and that love is sometimes the most powerful force
on earth.

Logan recovered quickly, and they went to their room. He whispered words
of love to her as he begged her forgiveness with his body, loving her
the way she'd always dreamed.

One day, a little over a year later, they stood in front of all their
friends and declared their vows. While they didn't quite live happily
ever after, their love was strong and sure.

End

~~*~~

A/N: Some of you may recognize the basic framework of this fic - it's a
version of the old fairy tale Tamlane, or Tam-Lin. You can find various
versions of the Tamlane story at: http://www.tam-lin.org/index.html
http://www.belinus.co.uk/fairytales/JJMFTamlane.htm is the one I used
for this fic.

To read the Angel/Cordelia version I wrote, visit:
http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool/service.htm

Also, I don't know what would actually happen if Rogue absorbed someone
who was mind-controlled, so just go with it, okay?

~~*~~

victoria

--

"Screw the dead. What have their moldering asses ever done for me?" Mike
Kellerman, _Homicide: Life on the Street_

--

The Muse's Fool - http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
Unfit for Society - http://www.unfitforsociety.net

Hi all,

This story/poem is the reason why one should never read classical Greek studies
and X-men comics at the same time.
Also, for the record I’ll be out of town from tomorrow and the next 3 weeks and
may not be able to go on-line.  I`ll therefore go to web only on all my groups
save Red Shades.

Oh, yeah. Happy 4th of July to the US.

Feedback: You know I love it
neh@...


Enjoy:


The Balled Of The Goddess And The Cyclops                By Nadja Lee     
21/03/01

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel , 20 Century
Fox and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I
make no money of it.

Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.

Timeline: Set in an alternative universe

Universe: Set in an AU

Pairing: Scott/Ororo

Summary: It is told that in ancient times there lived a Cyclops…and his love for
a Goddess…

Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is neh@....

Rating: PG

Dedicated to: Helene, Jemi, Misty and L. Burke. Thanks for your kindness and
friendship.

Thanks to Christina for the Beta.

Warning: Character death!

*mmmm * is telepathically thoughts spoken in the mind. “ mmmmm ”  is spoken out
loud.



Part 1:

It is told

That many years ago

When time was young

And the world was new

The Gods ruled

Over all mankind



A brave warrior was born

By a mortal woman

And the God of Compassion

The only God who

Held any kind feelings

Towards the fragile humans

Which the Gods had created

For their own amusement



The woman gave birth

In secret

But the King of the Gods

Saw her and

Punished her boldness

With the kiss of death

The God of Compassion

Begged for her life

His sister took pity on him

But spared only the child



Angered by his brother’s betrayal

The King of the Gods

Threw the God of Compassion

Over the edge of the world

And into eternal darkness

The King said that if

He’ll punish the woman’s people

With war and prosecution

He would be saved



Standing tall

The God of Compassion

Denied

Angered by his brother’s

Defiance

The King took away

His godliness

And pushed him over

Falling towards eternal darkness

Yet refusing to beg for help

The King felt a flicker of sadness

As he whispered his brother’s name…

Charles….



Twenty years passed

And the child

Grew up to be a man

Never knowing

Who his real parents were

Until one day

The sister who had saved him

Appeared before him



Summers,

She called him

And though the boy had known

No other human to this day

He remembered the sister’s

Soft and gentle voice

As he did the name

Summers, thou are a man

Of great importance

Thy father

Was my brother, now he

Suffers an eternal darkness


My brother came to me

Begging me to protect thou

For 20 years thou have

Lived under my protection

But now is the time for

Thou to know who thou are

And thy destiny



I named thee Summers

After the season

In which thou were born

Thy mother was a

Brave mortal woman

Holding great strength

And courage in her heart

Her name was Betsy but oh,

She was punished with

The kiss of death

By the King of the Gods, Magnus,

For daring to mingle with

The Gods



Who are thou, my Angel

Of mercy?

For thou must be a Goddess

And the Gods

I know

Care little or not

For the lives of mortal men

Like me



Summers, thou are not a

Mere mortal

Thou have the power

Of a God

I, Jean, Goddess of love and war, will

Unleash the power

Within thee

For thy quest

Thou`ll need it



And the sister

Touched the hero’s eyes

And out of them

A beam of light emerged

She had given him

A great curse and a

Great blessing

He was now a Cyclops

Brave and strong

But a warning she

Delivered



Hear me now, child,

And hear me well

Alone thou must

Wander and fight

For thy people

Against the Gods

And any injustice thou see

But thou must never

Give your heart away

If thou do that I’ll

No longer protect thee



The King’s wrath

Thou must always fear

I’ll shield thee

Protect thee

But break thy oath

Fall in love

And I’ll

Let the King’s wrath

Reach thee



The Cyclops agreed to all this

Eager to fight injustice

Fight for a dream of peace

And avenge his parents

Whose only crime

Had been a

Forbidden love



Time passed

The Cyclops fought

Many great battles

And with his power

And the sister’s help

He won them all



But then came

The day

Where he met

The Weather Goddess

She was rumoured to be

The most beautiful

Of all the Goddesses

Her hair as white

As new fallen snow

Her skin as brown

As leaves in autumn

And when the Cyclops

First saw her

He knew

The rumour was true



But oh, the King had heard

Of this rebelling warrior

Called Cyclops

And though unaware of his inheritance still

The King searched for him

But couldn’t find him

Due to the sister’s

Protection of the hero



Angered by his failure

To find the hero

The King had ordered

That should any of the Gods

Lay eyes on the hero

They were to kill him

At once



Also the Weather Goddess

Had been given this command

But when she saw

The hero

She fell in love

For the first time

In all her immortal

Existence



The hero remembered

The sister’s warning

But his heart conquered

Over his head

As he kneeled before the Goddess

And gave his heart away



The sister felt the hero’s heart

Change hands from hers to

The Weather Goddess’s

Angered she let her shield

Around the hero

Disappear and the King

Saw the two lovers

In a tender embrace



Laying eyes on the hero

The King saw his brother’s image

And he knew the truth

Angered by his very existence

And the Goddess’s disobedience

He appeared before them

And demanded that

The Goddess froze

The hero to ice

As the King’s heart

Had frozen



The Weather Goddess

Refused

Declaring her love

For the hero

As the hero did the same

For her

Fearless and forgetting

The sister’s warning

About the wrath of the King

The hero attacked the King

To protect his love



Filled with rage

The King froze the hero in time

Turning him into stone

The Weather Goddess

Pleaded the King

To curse her too

With the stone prison

He had given her lover

But the King refused



Years passed

And the Weather Goddess

Faded more and more

In her misery

For in the end to

Disappear

Only the breeze remained of her

And every time

The wind blows over the land

It is the Weather Goddess

Caressing the frozen face

Of her lover



Over the years

The stone of the hero

Crumbled and shattered

To always be able

To be near him

The Weather Goddess

Made a wind

Scatter the stone pieces all over the world



When tears falls from heaven

It is the sister

Crying for the two lovers

As they are unable to

Do so themselves

When a teardrop of rain

Falls on a stone

And glitters in the sunlight

The wind will gently kiss it away

Always keeping verge

Over her love



That was the balled of

The Goddess and the Cyclops

Look closely at the wind

And the stones where ever you are

When the wind

Blows over the stones

It is her trying to reach him

Touching but never feeling

Together but eternally apart

Hi again,

I wrote this, as you can see, months back but this story is.........dark and
strange so........anyway, you can read it and see for yourself.
I have placed it in the movieverse but the story can fit the comics anywhere you
want it too.

Warnings: This story may contain some disturbing elements.
This is a dark story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Feedback: Is loved. Please?
neh@...

Enjoy:



The Two People I Am Inside                  By Nadja Lee     3/12/01

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel , 20 Century
Fox and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I
make no money of it.

Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.

Timeline: Set after the movie

Universe: Movie (or comic)

Pairing: Scott/Jean, Scott/Storm

Summary: The two voices in Scott’s head fights for control…

Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is neh@....

Rating: PG - 13

Thanks to Christina for the Beta.



“ We all have two faces. The one we show the world and the one we hide in the
shadows”

- Val Kilmer as Batman in “Batman Forever”



Part 1:

“ Rogue? Rogue, are you alright?” Cyclops asked concerned as he found the young
girl. Or rather he saw her hand sticking out through the rubbles. He had taken
Rogue for a shopping trip where they had run into a newly escaped Magneto and
his mutants. Cyclops had prepared for a fight and had stood in front of Rogue
which had turned out to be a mistake as Magneto only wanted to cover his escape.
He had made some brigs and part of a building fall towards Cyclops and Rogue.
Cyclops had tried to push Rogue out of the way but hadn’t quite succeeded. Now
she was trapped beneath the debris.

“ Ah´m…alright but Ah`m stuck,” Rogue answered, fear in her voice. Two big poles
had made a kind of shelter for her but how long would it hold? He couldn’t blast
her free without hitting her but he had to do something. Cyclops took hold of
Rogue’s gloved hand sticking out from the rubbles and knew what he had to do.

“ I’ll take off your glove. Touch me and you can use my powers to blast yourself
free,” Cyclops said to her.

* Are you mad?! What if she can’t control it? She’ll find out…. find out...about
me* Scott hissed in his mind.

* Back off. This is the right thing to do* Cyclops demanded and began to remove
Rogue’s glove.

* Do this and you’ll lose everything you hold dear. Charles’s respect, Jean’s
love…all gone. Do you really think they’ll still care…if they knew whom you are
inside? * Scott asked mercilessly.

* You are wrong. You are no part of me. Go away* Cyclops demanded.

* I’m no part of you? Cyclops, I AM you, * Scott reminded him with a hard
laughter.

* NO! I’ll have nothing to do with you. I locked you away long away. *

* Cyclops, Cyclops. You are deceiving yourself. You are the illusion and I the
real thing. You are nothing but Charles’s creation. You have no real life, no
real emotions. I am Scott Summers. I am real. I live. I feel, * Scott said and
something made Cyclops stop his hand’s way towards Rogue’s now ungloved one.

* That…that is not true. I am Cyclops. I lead the X-men. I follow Xavier’s dream
of peace. I do what I must. What is right, no matter what. My pleasures are few,
I live for the team and for the dream. *

*Who are you trying to fool? Me or yourself? I was here first, remember?
Remember back in time…. * Scott demanded harshly.

* NO. I will not. It will bring nothing. *

* But it will. It’ll make you see the truth. The truth that I am the real thing.
I live and I feel. *

* Nothing you can show me will weaken me. My belief is too strong, * Cyclops
said but his tone lacked the confidence of his words.

* Then journey with me through the memories you have suppressed. Your birth by
two loving parents. Your parents’ death. Your loneliness at the orphanage. That
was where I started to live, remember? The older boys bullied you, teased you,
hurt you. I would help you. I beat them up and I did it good. Remember how I
send a few of them to the hospital? Remember how good it felt to unleash all
that anger, hate and frustration into another? The trill you felt by it even as
a part of you was repulsed by it? *

* I was just a kid. I did not know how wrong I was, * Cyclops protested.

* Really? Let’s move on then. To Jack. Remember Jack? Remember the beatings he
gave you? Remember the fear, the frustration, the anger and the hate? Remember
what I did to him when you were finally old enough to stand up to him? Remember
how I burned him to ashes with my eyes? * Excitement was in Scott’s voice.

* No. Be quit. I will not hear it. I…I can’t remember any of this, * Cyclops
protected.

* I think you can. You have just buried it deep down. Remember how you ran from
the cops after Jack’s murder? That was how you came to live on the streets.
Remember the things I did to make you survive. Nobility and goodness will only
get you killed on the streets. What matters is brutality and force; violence,
and I gave you that. Remember the secret pleasure you took in the fear in the
others eyes when they saw you? Finally you were the strong. *

* You are wrong. I…I’m not like that, * Cyclops denied. He couldn’t be like
that…could he?

* Even after Xavier found you and made Cyclops, made all that goodness and
perfection come forth I was still here. When you were in battle I was free. I
ravished in the blood and pain, in the violence and hate. That was my world. And
remember; I AM you, * Scott reminded him with the mercilessness he had come to
have.

* You are NOT me. I will have nothing to do with you. Leave me, * Cyclops
demanded.

* I can’t. You never understood that, did you? All people have a light and a
dark side. But you, like your creator, Charles, have suppressed your dark
nature. But it still lives inside you and only waits to break free. And believe
me; one day I WILL have control. You can’t trap me in here forever. No human
can. *

* I’m damn well gonna try, * Cyclops said determined and his hand reached for
Rogue’s again.

* Fine, then touch the brat. See what good saving her will do you. Do you really
think your love, Jean, the perfect and goody to shoes Jean, will love you when
she through Rogue sees me? Will she be able to look your monster in the eyes and
still give love? No one has ever done that. Will Charles be able to? What will
they say when they see that when you say `love me` you mean `hurt me`? * Scott
warned and Cyclops stopped again.

* They…they love me, * Cyclops protested weakly.

* No. That’s where you are wrong. They love the illusion you have made. They
love Cyclops. But will they ever be able to love Scott Summers, will all his
hate and frustration? Will all his loneliness and despair? Will all his distaste
in authorities? Will all his faults and scars? Will they really? *

* I…. Yes! Jean loves me. She loves me, * Cyclops insisted.

* It isn’t me you should try to convince but then again maybe it isn’t me you’re
trying to convince after all,” Scott said softly. There was silence for a while
before he spoke again;

*Did you really think that you could break the ring? *

* What ring? *

* The ring of life. Your childhood was filled with pain. With sorrows and scars.
Pain produces pain and…. hate produces hate. All people ever showed you were
that; hate, anger…beatings and punishment…. loneliness…an outcast. Did you
really think you could break the circle? That you could remain strong? Never
break down? What you wouldn’t give in to that anger and hate they have planted
in you? Surprise, Cyclops. You are NOT and will never be infallible. You have
blood on your hands that you just wouldn’t see. You have done wrongs in your
life that you refuse to see. You seek life’s pleasures as much as the next. I AM
you, Cyclops. I know your thoughts, your dreams of Ororo, of unleashing the fire
within her and fly free with her. Break free from all the responsibility and
what is right. *

* Get away from me. This is the right thing to do, * Cyclops said determined and
moved his hand closer to Rogue’s.

* It may be the right thing to do but it isn’t what you want to do. You risk
losing all. Don’t be a fool. No one has seen you with her. Leave the girl. *

* But…. she could die. *

* So what? People die every day. What is one more? * Scott asked coldly. Unknown
to Cyclops’s conscious mind, his hand had stopped again.

* I…care for her. *

* Sure you do but think what will happen. What you risk losing. Look out for
number one and leave her. She might even survive. *

For a while Cyclops looked like he was actually considering this. The thought of
losing Jean and Charles scared him.

* NO! I will not do as you say. She is my friend and I love her. She is worth
the risk even if she should find out…. about you, * Cyclops said firmly and his
hand was inches from Rogue’s.

* Remember, Cyclops, I AM you and I can’t be defeated. I’m a part of you and
always will be. And one day…. I WILL win this battle. For I am the real Scott.
You were made. Forged by Charles’s dream. I am not. If anything I’m his worst
nightmare. A man with scars on body and soul who will fight back, who will never
be defeated. A man who will always come up on top…. because he didn’t give a
shit about the others. Because he actually found a sick pleasure in seeing them
hurt………you, you seek the hurt they bring you, I, I seek the pain I give them, *
Scott warned as Cyclops hand was near Rogue’s.

* Then I’ll fight you. Again and again if I have to. You may be a part of me but
it is no part I’ll ever allow to win. You may have been forged by the cruelty of
my childhood but I was forged by the love for a dream, * Cyclops said determined
and his hand brushed Rogue’s.

* Go ahead and try. Let’s see who is the strongest in time; a naive dream…. or
cold, hard reality. Let’s see who comes out on top, * Scott said with a cruel
laughter as Cyclops took a firm grip on Rogue’s hand.

“ Ahhhhhh!” Cyclops screamed in pain as Rogue sucked the life and his powers
from him. His mind was slipping and the never ending fight in his head was for
once quit as Rogue got both his powers and voices.

* Let her deal with them for a while. I’m so tired of fighting all the time, *
Cyclops thought weakly as he lost consciousness.

* One day, Cyclops…I will be free, * Scott’s voice whispered as Cyclops’s world
went black.



The End



----------------------------

That wasn`t so bad, was it? Wait, on second thought, don`t answer that*G*

Hi,

Me again...........

Feedback: Is loved. Please?

neh@...


Enjoy:



Fire Eyes, Golden Heart                         By Nadja Lee 2/6/01

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel , 20 Century
Fox and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I
make no money of it.

Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.

Timeline: Any

Universe: Movie

Pairing: None really

Summary: Charles’s thoughts on his son…..Scott…

Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is neh@....

Rating: G

Dedicated to: Helene, L. Burke, Jemi and Misty. Thanks for your kindness and
friendship.

Thanks to Christina for the Beta.



I catch myself watching him

He walks with an air

Of confidence

He didn’t have as a child

He walks…

As a leader of men



I think back to when…

To when I first saw him

He was a slim young boy

Frightened and scared

Scared on body and soul



Even then in your tortured form

I knew the power within you

I knew what you could be

You were…

A diamond in the rough

A glittering stone for me to form



And form you I did

I made you my legs

I made you my Dream

I made you all the things I wanted

I made you all the things I thought

Good and fair



Now I think…

Was that good or fair to you?

You saw me as your saviour for that I was

You saw me as your mentor and that too I was

You saw me as your father and I you as a son

I see now that I really never gave you a choice

My ideals become yours without a question asked



I always condemned those in your past who had hurt you

I thought them cruel

I hated your foster father for so long

Hated what he had done to you

Forcing you to raise a shield around

Your body and soul

Afraid to let people close

Afraid that they’ll be as him

That they’ll hurt you and then leave



Now I think if I am that much better than them

I respected the wall you build around yourself

I never even once tried to break it down

I guess I was afraid of what I`ll find if I saw

Your tortured soul

Your troubled past

Your confused mind



I see now that I wasn’t that much better

Than those people in your past

They stole your childhood and soul

I stole your youth and freedom

I made a role for you and put you in it

I never even considered

If you wanted the part



I saw people come and go

In your life

One stayed

Jean stayed

I didn’t want to interfere

I didn’t want to go where I shouldn’t

But now I see that maybe I should



Jean is a daughter in many ways

And that is only one of the reasons

Why I think this to be wrong

She is too matched to Cyclops

She is as controlled as he is

She is as distinct as he is

But dear child;

You need someone who can

Speak to Scott



Someone who can make you feel

Someone who can make you live

Someone who can make you lose control

Someone who can make you feel free

Someone who can make you happy

Someone who can make Scott happy

For once my son;

Choose with your heart



I look at you

And I see the man I created

I see Cyclops

Fearless and strong

Leader of a Dream

Prefect leader of men

I see…

What I made



I want to see Scott as well

I want to see Scott;

I want to see his fire eyes

Shining with happiness

I want to see his golden heart

Beat with a lover’s

I want to see his arms

Wrapped around another’s body

In a sweet embrace

And not grab for empty air



Now I see that maybe you are doing

All this for me

Thinking I`ll only love you

If you remain the prefect leader

Always in control

Always alone



But you are wrong

You are my son

I`ll always love you

Now I see that I should

Have told you that



Now I know what I need to do

I need you to understand

I need you to believe

Believe in me

Believe in the bond we share

Believe when I say;

You’ll always be my son



So son;

Let me see you as I once did

Let me see you smile

Let me hear your laughter again

Let me feel your happiness

Let me see your fire eyes

Laughing behind shades

Let me see your golden heart

Beat with joy



Son, let me see you…..

Hi,


This should be the last one for now. This story follows " Fire Eyes, Golden
Heart"


Feedback: Is loved of cause.
neh@...


Enjoy:


Step Into The Fire               By Nadja Lee 09/02-2001

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel , 20 Century
Fox and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I
make no money of it.

Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.

Timeline: After the movie

Universe: Movie

Pairing: Scott/Ororo

Summary: Scott’s thoughts on a woman he have admired and loved from a distance
for years…

Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is neh@....

Rating: PG-13

Series: The sequel to “ Fire Eyes And Golden Heart”

Dedicated to: Helene, L. Burke, Misty and Jemi. Thanks for your kindness and
friendship.

Thanks to Christina for the Beta.



I see you

So far away

Looking like a Goddess

Driving me crazy with your

Snow coloured hair and eyes

Which seem to hold the power

Of the entire Storms of the Universe

Within them



I see you now

Waltzing by

Not looking at me

Not looking at my heart

And the message it is screaming to you:

Be mine

Be my heart

Be my soul

Be my love

Be my...Goddess



I know what you think

I know that you doubt

But know that my lips

May tell lies

But my heart never can

Yes, I made a mistake

The red in her hair was

Never the snow in yours

The green in her eyes

Was never the brown or white in yours

But.... even dreamers sometime

Have to settle for less

Have to settle for what comes along



I was weak

I know that now

So I let her go

I set myself free

Yet is the freedom to fall

Freedom at all?

For I have fallen many times

I have failed and I have wronged

I have tried and I have stumbled

On the way from there to here

And now I’m on my knees again

For I have fallen

Fallen in love with you



Come to me now

Come to me

Come into these arms

Which are aching to hold you

Come into this heart

Which have always been beating

For you and only for you

So come to me now

I beg of you Goddess



I see

I know

Well, then I guess

There is no more to say

No more to do

I have nothing left

I have no where to go

She didn’t see me

She didn’t hear me

I doubt she even cares

I doubt if anyone cares

For who can ever learn to love

A Cyclops?



A Cyclops

Is always strong

Is never wrong

Is always alone

And needs no one

Is that how you all

See me?

That all you are human

All you have the right

The right to fail, hurt and love

Just not I?

All you have the right to long

Just not I?



You are wrong

You have always been wrong

If just one of you

Had tried to look me

In the heart

You’ll have seen the need

You’ll have seen the want

You’ll have seen the pain

.... The loneliness

You’ll have seen...me

As I am inside and I wonder

Would you have liked what you found?



I always stand inside the fire

I always see red

I always stand alone

I yarn

I want

I need

I love

...I hurt

I too am like you

I too can dream

I too can watch these dreams

As they crumble to the floor

And die

But unlike you...

I have no one to help me

I have no one to pick me up



So I watch her

As she sassy by

Flying in a gentle breeze

And I think…

And I hope...

And I dream...

That she is different

That she wants to see

That she is wondering

Who the real me is

And today I swear

No matter if it kills me

I’ll find the truth

I’ll know...

Will she join me

And step inside the fire

Burning in me

Or will she turn away

And leave me alone

Cold and lost in

A big, big world

Which doesn’t care

Either way



So I go to her

My hand catches hers

I caress her cheek

I kiss the top of her head

My warm breath reaches her

As my lips speaks the truth

As I lay my soul bare

And say what is in my heart

In my heart is hope

Yet somewhere inside

There is a lost soul

A man alone

Paying that she’ll say yes

Yet fearing a no so strongly

He can taste it



Wind Rider, come with me

Come into my embrace

Go with me

Let us fly free

Let us live

Let us breathe

Together as one

Touch me

Let your body become one

With mine

Let me see you

Standing naked

Bathed in the silver light

Of the moon

Let me feel your copper skin

Beneath my fingertips

As they run over your body

Drawing a trail of fire

With them



Goddess, come to me now

Take me with you

Let me ride free with you

Take me in your love

And I swear:

I’ll worship your body

As my temple

I’ll love you true

From this day forth

Till my dying hour

I’ll be with you

From this hour

Till the last breath you take

I’ll stand by you

From this minute

Till I’m torn from your side by Deaths cold arms

I’ll protect you

From this second on

And till my body lies broken on the cold winter floor

I’ll want you

From yesterday

Till the Earth is swallowed by the sun

And there is nothing left

But my love for you



Ororo, come to me now

Say you want me

Say you need me

See the fire that is burning

Inside my soul and heart

See the love that I hold for you

Hidden from view

Come to me now

Come closer

Step inside the fire

And let it burn

Burn...Burn...Burn

Be with me

Even when Death separates us

Be with me always



Fire eyes and golden heart

That was my first thought when

I lay eyes on you

So long ago

We have gone a long way

Each going on alone

You have nothing to fear

For I dream too

For I yarn too

For I burn too

I’ll stand in the fire with you

Filled with love and filled with pride

Consume me and touch me

Come to me and join me

I’ll burn with you

So, Fire Eyes....

I’ll step into the fire

...With you





The End

Fanfiction List as of  8/4/2001

X-Men

WIPS.

Another Family Situation
  Charles/Erik, Scott
How Charles came to be looking after Scott, and what drove a wedge between
him and Erik.
  Drama, Angst, Adult Themes. MA

Borrowed Wings
  Warren, Scott.
A dinner date goes wrong and an angel lends his wings.
  Humour, Drama. Not Yet Classified.

Confrontations
  Kurt/Scott
When the team isn't there, Kurt decides to make Scott relax.
  Humour, mild Angst. PG.

I Feel What You Feel.
  Kitty, Scott/Logan, Rogue
Kitty's musing. A ramble really, but just about Kitty and her crush on
someone unattainble. Kitty also learns that her life isn't as bad as she
imagines when she gets to know her teachers better.
  Drama, Angst, Romance. M

Turbulent Weather
  Jean/Storm
PWP. Being done for Lythias and Mo. Jean calms Storm down.
  PWP, femslash. NC-17

Trader- An Ongoing Epic. :)
  Scott/Logan, Jean/Storm, Rogue/Bobby, Remy/m (Trader), Kitty/m (Miguel)
Beast, Charles.- Comic and movie based
The story of the Xavier Institue after the movie. The ups and downs and the
new students who will make up the next generation of X-Men, especially the
mutant Trader, who has a past as hidden as Logan's.
  Drama, Comedy, Slash, Het, NC-17


Finished One Offs.

Dark
  Scott, others.
How a boy meets his mentor while running wild.
  Drama. M

Father Figure No More
  Charles/Scott
Forbidden thoughts of an older man on his family.
  Angst, mild slash. PG-13

Forgettable
  Scott.
Quick writing about being Scott.
  Drama? G

Greek Tragedy
  Cyclops/???
A bar meeting and a one night thing.
  PWP. Disturbing themes. SQUICK FACTOR. So NC-17 it ain't funny.

Heavens Cried
  None- Comic based
Suicide of an X-Man.
  Drama, Angst M.

Me, Him and the Other
  Rogue, Charles, Erik, Scott, Logan.
Rogue deals with having too many minds in her head.
  Drama, Humour, mild slash themes. PG

On Metal Claws
  Logan, Scott.
Nightmares can come true.
  Angst. M

Stuck With You
  Scott/Jean, Scott/Logan, Rogue, Charles.
A dare turns into a soul searching exercise when two men can't get away from
one another.
  Humour, Angst, Drama, Slash Themes. R.

Treasure Island.
  Logan, Scott.
Marooned, Logan's not only fending for himself but his comatose companion.
  Drama. R

Unwinding
  Scott/Beast- comic based
Beast agrees to help out the focus of his crush after a training scenario.
  Angst, slash themes. NC-17

Who?
  Secret.
One of the team proves to be a serial murderer. But who?
  Drama. M.

Series.

Traitorous Thoughts.
  Logan/Scott.

Part 1- Never Fall in Love- Thoughts of a traitor.
Part 2- Yesterday- Thoughts of the betrayed
Part 3- Eternal Flame- Reconciliation
Part 4- Hold Me In Your Arms- After the reconciliation
Part 5- Blaze of Glory- The inevitable end.

Leather Jacket.
  Logan, Scott.

Part 1- Past Meetings- A boy is saved by a stranger out at sea.
Part 2- Searching- The rescuer tries to find the boy he saved.
Part 3- Remembrance- Two people remember where they met.
Part 4- Gratitude- Unfinished.- Someone says thanks in an unusual way.

Lost Past. WIP

Part 1- Highlands- A meeting and a new family.
Part 2- Father, Son and Haunted Ghost- Three peoples thoughts on one issue.
Part 3- Interlude- Datafiles.- Computer files on certain people.
Part 4- Intelligent Prey - The hunt is on. Who will find him first?
Part 5- Lone Wolves - The awful climax of the flight.
Part 6- Strange Bedfellows- War makes allies of old enemies.
Part 7- Blind Justice- The court trial that will determine a man's fate.
Part 8- Broken Minds- Waiting for the reconvention of court.
Part 9- Reconvention of War- The trial resumes and ends.
Part 10- Black Celebrations- A joyous time has some dark revelations.
Part 11- Long Road Back- The road to rehabilitation is a long one.
Part 12- Reconstructing Memories- Slowly, pieces of the past fall into
place.
More Coming!!!


Romance Universe.

Romance
  Scott/Logan, Jean/Storm.
Logan's got to prove he can be seductive.

In the Closet
  Scott/Logan.
PWP. Set in universe, but directly related. Scott shows Logan that he missed
him.


Only Looks

Cyclops/Sabretooth, Sabretooth/Mystique, Cyclops/Toad

Part 1- Pretty- Two people's encounter will change everyone around them.
Part 2- Ugly- Effects of a confrontation and a decision that changes lives.
Part 3- Beautiful-Two victims from opposite sides heal together.

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

By popular demand (Terri's chocolate Logan bribery), I bring you:

A Stolen Season 7/?

For disclaimers, etc., see part one.

Author's Note:  Thanks ever so muchly to my Dad for flinging me a
particularly ravenous plot bunny.  I was well and truly stuck on this
story before we discussed it.

*****

<i>POV: Rogue</i>

"Nuh... No... Mar..."

I can hear Logan's voice, but I don't see him anywhere.  All I see
are the bodies of the fallen as I walk through the foyer.  They're so
cold, lifeless.  In some places, there are so many that I have to
watch where I step.

Paige, Jennifer, David, Everett, Jacob, Malcolm, Peter, ... Jubilee,
my roommate for so many years.  She embodied life and energy, and now
she lies crumpled, pale, eyes forever closed in death.  She is just
one of so many taken from me, a family forever lost.

As I watch, her pale blue eyes snap open, the orbs clouded and her
gaze cutting right through me.

I stumble back, away from that accusatory stare only to trip over
another body, Peter's.  His eyes are open as well, and as his dead,
gray arms reach out for me...

My eyes snap open to find myself twisted in the covers of a shabby
bed.  I'm not at the mansion; I'm in a hotel room, sweaty and gasping
for breath.

"It was a dream," I whisper to myself.  "Just a dream."

"Mm... No..."

Logan's mumbling next to me, shifting in his sleep.  He must be
having a nightmare, too.

"Logan."

"Mar... Nn... Stop..."

I reach over and gently nudge him, but he remains asleep, so I start
jostling his shoulders.  "Logan, wake up."

"Marie!" he shouts as his eyes shoot open.  He moves like lightning,
pulling me into a tight hug, and I can barely breathe; he's squeezing
so hard.

It's a good thing it was Logan's turn to dress for bed tonight.  He's
not thinking about my skin and my face, held close to his chest,
could've killed him.

"Logan."

"Marie... Marie.  You're alive."

He's clutching me so tight it's like he's afraid I'll disappear if he
lets go.

"Logan, it's all right.  I'm here.  I'm here."

"I thought... thought I'd lost you."

He's kissing me all over the top of my head, where it's safe, and his
gloved hands are starting to stroke my bare back.

"It's ok, sugah.  I'm still here.  We're together.  We're alive."

We spend the next few hours proving to each other just how alive we
are.

-----

Logan's playing with his ring again.  Whenever it's my turn to drive,
he just sits silently, twisting his ring around his finger.  I've
asked him a couple of times what he's thinking, but he just brushes
me off or changes the subject.  Whatever it is, it's bad.  His face
gets all tight, and he hunches his shoulders down like he doesn't
want me to see what he's doing.

At first I thought it was the cut in his ring.  I told him we'd find
a jewelry store and get it repaired, but he said not to bother.  That
it wasn't right to fix it until... but he never finished the sentence.

"How far?" he asks, and I'm surprised to hear his voice.  He's taken
off the ring and is running his fingers over the break.

"About another hour," I answer.

He doesn't say anything else, returning to his quiet contemplation.

It's been two weeks and we're going back to the mansion.  We've been
sniffing around all the military bases in the area, literally,
without finding anyone who was involved in the murders.  Logan wants
to go back home in case we missed something, but I don't hold out
much hope.  The attackers could've been from a unit in another state,
men from several units, or even not in the military at all.  With so
little to go on, I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever find them.

Even if we do, what's next?  Hunting down only those men directly
involved leaves the men giving the orders alive.  There's no way two
mutants can get revenge on the entire U.S. government, although I'm
sure Logan would love to try.

It's not just about revenge, either.  We need to find the soldiers to
find Scott and the other captive mutants.  If they're being kept
together at a base, how will we get through the defenses?  What if
they are being kept in separate facilities?  If we attack one place,
will the mutants at the other locations be killed before we can reach
them?

I've never felt so powerless as I do right now.  If I didn't have
Logan, if he'd been taken or killed too, I know I'd just give up.
He's the only thing keeping me going right now, with the world
against us.

"Marie?"  Logan's put his ring back on and is pulling my right hand
into his grasp.

"Yeah?"

"It'll be ok.  We'll find them, and get them out.  We're gonna be
just fine."

He tenderly rubs my hand between his clasped ones, but I don't know
who he's trying to reassure.  Himself or me.

-----

<i>POV: Dr. Elizabeth Mason</i>

Latitude: 41.2512
Longitude: -73.54092

"What is he doing back at the mansion?  Doesn't this guy have any
survival instincts?"

I'm fuming at my computer, reading the current location of a man I
know only as the healer.  He escaped when the troops invaded Xavier's
school, but the damn man keeps coming back.  If I don't do something,
he's going to ruin everything.  It's not like they're looking for him
right now.  Dr. Thacker decided to just pick him up along with all
the other mutants in the national sweep, but he isn't exactly acting
like a person who doesn't want to get caught.

He's been traveling around New York, going to military bases and
hanging around the bars the soldier boys frequent.  If he asks the
wrong people the wrong questions, there'll be nothing I can do to
save him.

I've been following his movements ever since the day I picked him up
on the GPS by a fluke.  There's something about the guy that makes
him the perfect antennae for the nano laying dormant in his body.
It's almost like a large part of the guy is metal.  That's
impossible, though.

Anyway, if his meddling makes Dr. Thacker speed up the project, I
won't be able to finish and everyone will be screwed, himself
included.   I've stalled Dr. Thacker saying that it'll take three
months to get the nanos built, which isn't exactly true.  It'll take
three months to get the nanos built to complete my plan.
Theoretically, it would only take a month to get done what the doctor
has in mind.  If he gets involved deeply enough to figure that out,
no one will be safe.

"Hello, Elizabeth," a deep voice sing-songs behind me.

I quickly switch my screen to production readouts, covering the
global positioning information on the missing mutant.

"Hello, Dr. Thacker," I say, mentally adding, 'you bigoted, heartless
prick.'

"How are we doing today?"

"Fine, just fine.  We're running at full production.  The machines
are testing every hundred and I'm personally testing every few
thousand in detail for flaws.  So far, we're at a success rate of
over 99 percent."

"Even 99 percent is insufficient.  We're talking about over 270
million humans and mutants.  Ninety-nine percent leaves a few million
flawed machines."

"We can't fully test every nano.  That would take forever.  Maybe we
should plan on a second wave after this first one."

"That will give any remaining mutants time to fight back.  No.  It
must be simultaneous.  Perhaps I should look at the schematics myself
and see..."

"No!"

'Calm down, Elizabeth,' I mentally reprimand.

Composed, I continue.  "No, you're too important.  We won't get done
without your management skills to oversee the entire project.  I'll
go through the process step-by-step personally and bring down the
error rate."

"Very well, Elizabeth.  I trust you."

I smile, but the smile fades as soon as the little weasel is out of
my sight.  That was too close.  He could have caught on to the fact
that I didn't want him anywhere near my blueprints.

'Two and a half months, Elizabeth.  You just have to keep everything
together for a little while longer.'  That's what I keep telling
myself, but when I switch my screen back to the global positioning
information, I wonder if I'll be able to do it.

No.  Not while he's roaming around.  I need to chase him away, just
until I'm ready.

*****

TBC.

Hi all,
Another part to "Trapped In Darkness" by Nadja Lee.

As always this is for Peachy who asked for this. Thanks!!!!!!! Hope you like.
Disclaimer see part 0.
Cecilia is a X-man from the comics I have fit into here. You can see pics on
her on the net ( if you`re interrested).

If you haven`t read the earlier parts to this story then you can do so here (
with a title pic):
http://www.100megspop3.com/scottororo/fiction/TrappedInDarkness.html

Warnings: Talk of torture.

Recap: We left Scott in Dr. Cecilia`s hands after his torture.

Feedback: Is loved, of cause.
neh@...

Enjoy:





Part 9:
Cecilia looked at the man in the bed. Black Thunder could be here any minute
now. She had to wake him up. She had let him stay unconscious for the most part
since he had arrived yet she couldn’t shield him from the truth or the pain any
longer. Taking a needle she filled it with the antidote and injected it into a
vein on the man’s arm.
“ Ohhh,” the man said as he blinked and tried to sit up.
“ Careful. Here, let me help you,” Cecilia said as she arranged the pillows and
helped him sit up, careful to not put too much pressure on his abused back.
“ Where….am…I?” the man asked weakly.
“ In the hospital wing of the compound, the main building for the slaves here in
the capital city. Here,” she held a glass of water forth for him to drink. He
eyed her for a while.
“ Who are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“ For pity’s sake! Look, I’m the woman who saved your ass so now drink,” she
held the glass to his lips and this time he drank.
“ Feel better?” she asked as she took the glass away. He couldn’t have too much
water all at once. The man followed the water longingly.
“ Yes,” he answered simply and Cecilia couldn’t hold back a smile. Anyone who
had taken a beating like that was never fine. She suspected him of having some
kind of military experience.
“ Let me take a look at your eye,” Cecilia took off the bandage she had made
around his right eye. It had been a blooded wound so she had given him a
compass. She had also stitched his wound in his side. “ Yes, it looks like it’ll
heal nicely.”
“ When….will my eyesight return?” his voice was even but she heard the fear in
it. She drew back a little so he with his left eye could see her in profile.
Telling bad news had always been what she hated most about this job.
“ I’m sorry but I couldn’t save your eyesight on your right eye,” she saw his
face fall and a tear threatened to roll down his cheek. “ I truly am sorry,”
Cecilia repeated before turning to go.
“ Wait…I…thank you,” the man’s voice was low and she knew that edge in it. That,
“I’m losing my dream, I’m breaking down” that she had heard so many times. But
this man was still different. He was strong. She hoped he’ll pull through
mentally. It meant a lot in a place like this.
“ You’re welcome. By the way; I’m Cecilia Reyes. Everyone calls me Dr. Cecilia.
I take care of the mutants here,” she gave him a kind smile before going towards
a new bed and a new patient.
“ Dr. Cecilia…” she turned to look at him…” I’m….Cyclops and I thank you,” she
smiled again. Yes, definitely military. He didn’t trust her yet so he had given
a codename with which she could find him if she needed to but only because he
thought he might need her more. An….interesting man.
“ Medicine Woman, I’m here to pick up the man I brought in,” Black Thunder said
as he entered the hospital.
“ He is here,” Cecilia said and guided him towards the man. He now sat in a
chair, dressed in an old t-shirt which had once been white and a pair of old
blue jeans, the blood on them bearing evidence to the fact that they had been
used before.
“Black Thunder, this is Cyclops,” Cecilia introduced with a smile as Cyclops got
to his feet, trying to conceal a flicker of pain. Black Thunder gave her THAT
look but Cecilia ignored him. “ Now, play nice, boys. I see I have new
customers,” with that Cecilia left the two men to just stare at each other for a
while.
“ Come with me,” Black Thunder said and turned his back at Cyclops, walking
towards the exit. Seeing his chance Cyclops leapt forward to jump him even
though he was still weak, only to have Black Thunder turn around quicker than
the wind and Cyclops collided with his fist instead and he landed on the floor
with a “ohhh”.
“ Never attack a man from behind. It is unworthy of a true warrior,” Black
Thunder said, his voice so damn even and controlled. The words spoken in that
almost whisper voice he had. Smug bastard, Scott thought darkly. As weak as he
still was anyone could probably have taken him down yet any shoot at freedom was
worth a try. Black Thunder stretched a hand forth to offer Cyclops his help to
get up and with a moment’s hesitation, Cyclops accepted his help, letting him
draw him up. They walked out the hospital and down the hallway. Cyclops looked
at the cells and doors.
“ Don’t. I’ll be forced to kill you and I’ll rather avoid that,” Black Thunder
warned as he saw Cyclops’s eyes follow the men coming and going with a longing
look. Cyclops got an angry gleam in his eyes, more because he had been figured
out so easily than anything else.
“ You’re a mutant...” Cyclops said and nodded to Black Thunder’s collar….” Why
do you help them?” his voice held anger, disbelief and confusion. Black Thunder
didn’t strike him as an evil man yet he wasn’t exactly working for the side of
the angels here.
“ I have my reasons,” he merely responded but not before Cyclops saw the flicker
of pain in his eyes. He hadn’t lead a easy life, the scars on his body bearing
clear evidence to that, yet still it confused Cyclops a lot that he still worked
for them, especially as he was sure they had been the ones to scar him in more
ways than one to begin with.
“ Scott!” Jean cried, tears of happiness running down her cheeks as she saw her
fiancé coming towards her out on the hallway. All the X-men gathered to greet
him as he drew closer.
“ Holy shit,” Bobby spat as he saw in what condition Scott had returned. He was
covered in bandages and had a big red welt on his face that could surely leave a
scar and his right eye stared unseeing at them.
“ I’ll kill you, mother fucker,” Logan cried in fury as Black Thunder and Scott
were just outside the force field. Guards passing in the hallway looked after
them, making any attempts for Scott to try at take the force shield mechanism
from Black Thunder impossible. Not to add that he was still weak and Black
Thunder seemed to be in excellent psychical condition.
“ I can give you two hours. No more,” Black Thunder warned, as he got ready to
reunite Scott with Jean.
“ What happens in two hours?” Xavier asked as the force shield opened and Scott
stood before Jean again, getting lost in her face, her hair and her beauty.
“ Then the captain who was here earlier will return,” Black Thunder said but
even that dark prospect for their near future didn’t lessen the X-men’s
happiness at Scott’s return. Black Thunder saw the man, Cyclops, kiss his woman,
take her into his embrace, stroke her hair and whisper words of love and comfort
to her. The scene bought back memories of Silver Moon and Star Child that he’ll
hoped he had forgotten. Love, blood, pain and betrayal all watched into one as
his memories threatened to consume him. Quickly he left the X-men’s cell to
escape those memories yet their happy words and laughter filled the sooner
always dark and cold hallway and was on the edge of driving him mad. Finally he
escaped back into the hospital and for a moment in time he sought comfort in
Cecilia’s arms. She didn’t know why he had returned. Why he was her arms. What
kind of demons he was running from yet still she stroked his hair as a mother a
sick child. She mumbled words of comfort and compassion, the first he had heard
for more than five years. He didn’t cry, not one tear fell from his eyes, yet
Cecilia could feel his pain in all he didn’t say. It felt like hours but it had
only been minutes before he let her go from the bear hug grip he had had her in.
He wiped some lose hair behind her ear and whispered;
“ Thanks, Medicine Woman but this is one soul even your healing hands can’t
cure,” he gave her a strange half smile as if he saw irony in the statement,
before he turned around and was gone. Cecilia looked long after him. Of all her
returning patients, he had always worried her the most even though he never had
any permanent damage. Not even like what they had done to Cyclops with his eye.
For normal mutant slaves “ no permanent damage” meant only that they should be
capable of working and that was all. It was possible to work with only one ear,
without a nose or with only one eye. The guards never ceased to amaze her with
their cruel ingenuity. But still….she looked after Black Thunder as he walked
down the hallway, alone. Still, there was something about him that made her mark
him as her most cruel case yet. She didn’t know all his secrets or all his
demons but she did know that somewhere deep inside, there was a man who hurt
like no other. Her lips curved in a bittersweet smile. Considering that Black
Thunder gave her many a patient it was a strange statement, yet still she felt
it was true.
TBC

Title: True North
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: "I decorated my bedroom with a huge map of North America, and
dreamt of traveling somewhere, anywhere."
Rating: G
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool, anyone who's already got my stuff.
Otherwise, just ask.
Feedback: Makes my day.
Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. You guys make it fun even when
it's not.
Special Thanks to Tori Morris, whose West Wing fic "Cartography"
inspired me to write my own map story. You can find her story, which is
beautifully written, at
http://skywaterblue.tripod.com/skywatersfanfiction/cartography. Thanks
again for letting me borrow your idea. You rock! <g>

~*~

True North

I've always been fascinated by maps. Even as a child, before I could
read, I drew maps of a fantastic country called Lanai. I invented my own
language -- Lanaian -- that I spoke with the invisible people who lived
there.

When I got a little older, I was embarrassed that my promised land, my
Shangri-La, was named after a Hawaiian veranda.

But the allure of maps remained.

I pored over my geography textbooks and the atlases my father bought. I
decorated my bedroom with a huge map of North America, and dreamt of
traveling somewhere, anywhere.

After watching a National Geographic special on the research and
monitoring of wolves in Denali National Park, I saw that my paradise
existed in the pristine, snow-covered tundra of Alaska.

I read everything I could get my hands on. I marked cities along the
route I mapped out with pushpins -- Niagara Falls, west through the
Canadian Rockies, and then north to Anchorage. I revealed my ambition to
only a few, those I felt wouldn't laugh at the little girl from
Mississippi who dreamt of glaciers and frost.

Of course, life has a funny way of giving you exactly what you want, in
absolutely the worst way possible.

When I was on the road after what happened with David, I lived by that
map -- not that exact one, but a Hagstrom road atlas I slipped out of my
dad's desk before I left. That map took me all the way to Laughlin City,
Alberta -- the place where I found my true home -- before bringing me
back to Westchester.

I share a room with a bunch of other girls now, but not one of them
protested -- not to my face, anyway -- the day I took down their boy
band posters and covered one wall with a map of North America.

I marked the places I'd been with little green pins; the places I have
yet to visit are picked out in blue. And most importantly, the places
Logan writes from are marked in red.

Surprising everyone but me, the first letter arrived less than a week
after he left. It didn't say much, just, "Hope those geeks are treating
you right, kid. If not, I'll come back and kick their asses." It was
signed simply, "Logan," and postmarked Minneapolis.

Some of the towns he writes from are so small they're not even on the
map, which now has a string of red pins marking the progress of his
search for his past.

I know that one day, the road will lead him back to me. I don't know yet
where or when, but he is my true north, and as long as he's in my life,
I will never be lost.

End

~*~

A/N: For more information about wolves in Denali, go here:
http://www.nps.gov/dena/home/wolves/index.html
For information about Denali National Park, go here:
http://www.nps.gov/dena/index.htm
I don't know if there's an actual National Geographic special dedicated
to this topic, but it wouldn't surprise me. <g>

Also, I have no idea why Marie planned to go east to Niagara Falls
before heading west to Anchorage, but that's what she said, so we're
kind of stuck with it, huh.

~*~

victoria

--

"Screw the dead. What have their moldering asses ever done for me?" Mike
Kellerman, _Homicide: Life on the Street_

--

The Muse's Fool - http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
Unfit for Society - http://www.unfitforsociety.net

I beg indulgence. :-)  I'm simply announcing the
completion of this, not posting it, because it's not
movieverse fiction.  It's set in the new ULTIMATE
X-MEN comicverse (Scott's eyes are brown <g>), and I'm
announcing it here only because there were some folks
on this list who read and liked "Chocolate Milk"
(UltX), but who are not on the comicverse fic lists
the story is going to.
-----

LIGHTNING OVER ELK RIVER
Minisinoo
http://www.geocities.com/minisinoo/comicverse.html


SUMMARY:  Storm and Cyclops are sent by Professor X to
Nashville, to recover a potential new recruit -- Dani
Elk River.  Action & character development, c. 40,000
words (novella)

WARNINGS: This story contains discussion of ADULT
subject matter, including sex and drugs.  Drugs are
not glorified.

UNIVERSE: ULTIMATE X-MEN (between #6 and #7)

PAIRINGS: Storm/Cyclops, introduces Dani (Moonstar)
Elk River.

DISCLAIMER: They belong to Marvel, Millar and the
Kuberts, et al.

----

All five chapters are finished and up on my website
(complete with images) in pretty HTML, as I always do.
  The URL is under the title above.

Enjoy!  Feedback is cherished.

--Min

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Get personalized email addresses from Yahoo! Mail
http://personal.mail.yahoo.com/

Title:  A Little More Than Intimate
Author:  jenn (jenn@...)
Codes:  Rogue, Logan/Rogue
Rating:  strong R
Summary:  Rogue reflects on Logan, relationships, and a toothbrush.
Author Notes:  Interestingly, this was the original storyline for the
stories in the Hope continuity.  I changed the format of the series and
decided tonight to re-write this completely and see what happened.
Dedication:  To Andariel for the beta, and Beth, Diebin, Ann, and jengrrrl
for chickeny-soup type stuff.  I love you guys.  Thanks, I needed it.
Archiving:  WRFA, XMMFC, otherwise please ask
Feedback:  With chocolate au lait, gratefully accepted.

*****

You'd think--you know, just once--fate would give me a break.  Not a big
break--I'm not askin' that ye olde Mother Nature step in and reverse my
mutation here, though that would be all kinds of swell.  I'm not asking for
world peace--today, anyway--or that all humans and mutants come together in
the love and all that crap.  I'm not asking much, all things considered.

Just one date where Logan and I don't end up in a situation.  Just
one--one, normal, eat your dinner and pay for it, then leave without
bloodstains on your clothes date.  Seriously, that's *not* too much to ask.

The guy was very unconscious less than fifteen seconds after it started,
and Logan had a grip on my arm before I'd even had the fun of enjoying the
moment, palm covering my knuckles.  Even through the gloves, they felt
sore.

"Come on, darlin'."

"Logan--"

"Yeah, I know."  He kicked the guy's body out of the way, dropping a wad of
cash on the remains of our table before leading me calmly toward the exit.
I glanced briefly around the silent restaurant before Logan opened the
door, glancing outside before ducking us both casually onto the sidewalk,
dropping his jacket around my shoulders to hide the streaks of blood on my
shirt, arm around my waist.  "Fucking idiot."

"Yeah, I was thinkin' that, sugar."  It never failed, which was why I just
gave up altogether on heels and went back to either boots or flats whenever
we went out.  Behind us, there was the sound of sirens and Logan jerked me
into an alley.  Leaning against the wall, I stripped off my slippers and
noted the silk had become stained with--fuck, blood.  I wasn't even sure
Jubes could get that off.  Chinese silk too--Logan bought them for me in
Hong Kong a few months ago.  Fuck twice.

"One date."  Logan was talking through his teeth as he checked the street,
before coming back to me and taking my shoe.  "That isn't much.  One.
Fucking.  Date."

Logan observed awhile back that there was just something about me that
screamed people should touch me. Random people, for no good reason.  Now,
besides the danger factor, which really must just soak off of me like a
scent (Logan says I smell like apricots, but he's a guy too) and requires
idiots to try their luck, Logan has odd and distinct ideas of what
constitutes proper behavior toward me.  Touching me is a punishable
offense.  Usually accompanied by some sort of physical reminder that they
can take home with them--black eye, scar, a rib or two.  Nothing serious.
Or more than a hospital night or two.

Don't get me wrong, I don't get off watching men fight over me--but I do
get some thrills over being part of the fight.  That's the Logan in me, so
he really can't complain too much.

Usually.

And God, Logan's hot when he's fighting.

But one date.  One single date going right wouldn't hurt, would it?

"I need new shoes."  He shrugged, reaching down for my foot and slipping
the shoe back on while I braced a hand on his shoulder.  "Damn."

"I'll get you more."

"I like these."

A soft growl--not at me, particularly, just in general.  When he
straightened, I pulled my arms through the jacket and buttoned the top,
then let him slide an arm around my shoulders.

"Okay, so where to now?"

Good question.  Logan glanced out the street, then shook his head,
carefully walking me out.  With the shoes and their oh-so-interesting
brown-red patterns.  Well, as long as no one checked out my feet, we'd be
okay.  Normal people walkin' down the street.  Nothing odd going on here.
So the girl looks a little young.  In New York, no one gives a good fuck.

"When are you due back?"  Logan asked me and I tried to remember.

"Ummm--not 'til tomorrow.  Same time you are.  Tryin' to get rid of me?"
Fat chance--Logan hates sharing at all, especially on the rare nights when
it's just us.  Especially when they turn out like this.

"Nah.  Wondered if you were drivin' back or stayin' the night."

He never takes me for granted, ever.  I rolled my eyes, wondering in the
back of my mind if the day will ever come he will trust me enough to not
feel the need to ask.

"Like I'd come into the city and not stay.  Come on, sugar.  Let's go."

It was three months after we first had sex that Logan got the apartment.

When he was on-duty, he stayed at the Mansion.  The apartment was his own
private retreat--I don't think any of the other X-Men know where it is and
it'd be a cold day in hell before I show them.  In fact, I considered it
something of a relationship milestone when he asked me to come with him to
look over a few--because it's one thing to be fucking him, but quite
another to be allowed to know him.

Hell, the fact he actually went and *got* it was a hell of a milestone in
general.  I don't think other people quite understand that him getting that
apartment meant he was stickin' around.  When he stopped staying at the
Mansion every trip to Westchester, when he invested money, everything
changed.  New York was someplace he chose to stay in, not merely one of a
thousand different stops, and he had the legally-binding lease agreement to
prove it.

Back entrance, of course--the entire reason he chose this place was the
number of ways in and out.  There were a lot.  Good security, but not so
good as to make criminals curious what was in there.  Nice to look at but
not too nice.  A relatively safe part of town, but not too pricey.  Not
because of money--because of caution.  And the building didn't have too
many tenants and not one of them was the type to be neighborly or curious.

Logan down to his toes.

On the second floor, and he got out his keys, opening the door to usher me
in first--somewhere along the line in his past, he'd picked up some
seriously archaic little mannerisms like that.  The place was still in
progress--or rather, accretion.  Left to his own devices, Logan actually
only required two things--a bed, a working refrigerator, and a television.
Preferably in the same room.  At which point he discovered that dating me
had certain perks--not the least of which was the fact that I had Jubes and
Kitty and unlimited funds to play with.  Made the purchases, and Logan and
I personally picked up the furniture that night.

His personality is stamped over everything.  He approved of everything I
bought, but the fact that I picked out the furniture puts me in here too,
and I think he likes that.

At the door, I took off my shoes, glaring at the stain, before dropping
both by the door.  Pulled off the jacket, putting it up before Logan could
comment, and finding my way through the dark by memory before finding the
couch (falling over it, shit, memory be damned).  Logan chuckled and
flipped the lights on while I righted myself and brushed my hair out of my
face.  Picking my legs up, he sat down.

"You okay?"

I shrugged a little, and laying down was sort of nice, with Logan rubbing
my feet absently through my hose and drawing leather-covered hands over my
calves.  Soothing, even.

"Sorry."

"S'okay.  Next time, we order in."

I sat up, turning slightly to see him in the dim light from the window, and
he brushed his knuckles over my face briefly.  "Or maybe that diner
downtown you like so much."

"Yeah."  He mulled that briefly--he likes going there, but not when it's
just us.  We're bound to run into someone we know, and Logan's time with me
is his time, private time.  Period.  I understand that--I never feel like I
have enough time with him.  It just seems wrong to lose any more.

"I'm gonna go change," I said, glancing down at my shirt.  Ruined.  Damn.
Logan turned his head and the hazel eyes rested warmly on the
bloodstains--which happened to cover a certain part of my anatomy he's
always found interesting.

"Mind if I help?"

I grinned and stood up, stretching a little, feeling his eyes on me.

"Thought you'd never ask."

His room's pretty large--a huge selling point, believe it or not, with lots
of closet space.  The better to store the weaponry, my opinion on the
subject.  Glancing into the open bathroom door, I focused briefly on the
sink, where two toothbrushes were in residence.

I have a toothbrush here, all my own.  That's when I realized Logan meant
business.

We'd been having sex for four months and it was one month after the
acquisition of the apartment that I stumbled into the bathroom and saw it.
I always brought my own stuff.  Always.  I never take anything for granted,
ever--and I think Logan likes that, that I didn't expect anything more than
he's willing to give, any more than he's ready for.

Never pushed, except for that first night when I crawled into his bed and
explained that I wasn't his student, that he didn't have to keep me at a
distance anymore.  We'd been growing apart and it frightened me until I
understood why.  Understood that in growing up, I'd lost something, that if
left to his own devices, Logan would lock me out.  He couldn't handle
wanting someone he'd treated as his daughter.  He'd bandaged my wounds and
slept with me through my nightmares, threatened my boyfriends and taught me
to fight.  Logan in the middle of a reverse Oedipus complex--he could
sometimes make things more complex than they really needed to be.

I had to prove it--prove I wasn't the skinny kid he picked up or the little
girl he'd promised safety.  Logan wasn't big on discussion or philosophy,
so sitting down and explaining the lack of bloodtie, my way-beyond-jailbait
age, and my interest didn't cut it.  Stripping my clothes off inch by inch
in front of him and letting him shift the child I'd been into the woman I
was--that was the sort of message that got through.  The first time for us
together, in his bed in the Mansion, when he watched me undress for him,
touch him, when I slid down onto him, with that first sucked breath as he
entered me, my hands braced on either side of him--that was the evidence he
needed.  Concrete things.  Physical proof of an abstract concept.

He memorized me that night--every inch of my skin, every mark, ever scar,
every curve, every sound I could make, every way he could arouse me.  In
the morning, he pulled the curtains closed and since it was our day off, he
locked the door and got back in bed with me.  Took in everything about me
so the shift was complete and concrete, until in his mind I wasn't a child
and never would be again.  Until there was nothing about the woman that was
a mystery, until he wrapped me up in a sheet and went to sleep beside me
for the first time, curled into his arms, our combined scents imprinted
into us both.

Four months later, I had my own toothbrush at his apartment.  Red, his
favorite color on me, by the sink, just waiting for me to notice.

I locked the door and got in the shower and cried for fifteen minutes.  It
was the first time he acknowledged, even like this, that I was more than
one of his many lovers, that I was important enough to rate something like
this, something permanent.

He was telling me I was permanent.

Other things came after.  The section of the closet.  Two drawers in the
dresser, one stocked with scarves and gloves and bodysuits and assorted
specialized merchandise for skin issues.  My favorite shampoo and
conditioner and shower gel.  My own sponge.  Things that were meant to be
permanent, things he'd probably thought about long before he'd got them.
Because Logan might act on pure instinct, but his life was his and his
alone, and sharing even a little took effort.  And his instincts were
rarely exactly in my favor in that way.

I didn't bother with the lights--I was going to trust that my memory was
good enough and that he hadn't bought any new furniture or left any sharp
objects--say, newly-cleaned katanas--out where I could trip over them.
Finding the wall, I braced a hand against it as I began to unbutton my
shirt, but his fingers on mine stopped me, turning me around to face him,
taking a breath, as if to confirm who he was touching.

Slowly, he finished with my shirt, sliding it off my shoulders, then my
skirt, marking me with the brush of gloved fingers on bare skin.  Tracing
the line of my waist, my hips, up to my breasts, my shoulders, cupping my
face briefly.  Down over my back, then crouching and slowly pulling down my
hose and underwear, lifting my feet to remove them.  Surrounded by a circle
of silk and wool, he unhooked my bra and let that fall too.

"You're beautiful, baby," he breathed, and I blushed, always did.
Dangerous, five feet eight inches of possible death in front of him, and
that's what he thought.  No one else could I do this for, no one else could
I ever have stood naked in front of, nothing to do with modesty or
vulnerability, everything to do with fear and danger.  No one else could
make me feel secure when I could kill them by accident.  He's the only
lover I've ever had that I could make love to without my clothes to protect
my skin and my soul.  Only my gloves that cover me to my elbows.

But Logan's never been like anyone else.  I've loved him for so long, but
it's only recently I've come to discover that even though I have so much of
him in my head, there's so little I truly know about him.

Gently, he pressed me back against the wall, one of my scarves draped
across my throat.  Kissed me through it, the line of my shoulder, gloved
hands still tracing my skin.  Up my throat, a brush of his tongue, just
behind my ear, a shiver running through my body.  Bit lightly, not enough
to break the skin, enough to bruise.

A private place to prove ownership with my blood.

"Logan--"

"Shh."  A breath against my ear, cupping my breasts with leather-coated
fingers, forehead against the wall beside my face.  Breathing me in.  He
always touches me like I'm fragile at first, even after watching
approvingly when I knock out a man twice my weight.

Then he kissed me, through the fine silk of my scarf, opening my mouth.
Tongue running across mine, over my teeth, sealing my lips to his until I
couldn't breathe and didn't want to ever again, and he was pressed to every
inch of me.  I draped my arms across his shoulders when he worked his
patient way down my body with only that scarf between us--my breasts, my
stomach, my inner thigh, a matching bruise just inside.  Places on my body
only he's ever seen and touched and mapped.

Then slowly back up, until his scent was all over me, from his hands, his
mouth, his body.  Lifting me up against the wall, kissing me again when I
locked my legs around him, the jeans harsh against my inner thighs.  Gloved
fingers between my legs, pressing inside.

"Wider, baby."

I ran my hands down his back, arching a little into his touch.  He knows
how to make it fast or slow, how to build it up so hot I forget everything,
every lover I've ever had, every encounter in every European slum and every
high-class hotel and every endless night alone.

"Good girl."  A breath against my mouth, when I struggled to get his jeans
unbuttoned, finally getting the zipper down, touching him with gloved
hands--always somewhere in me relieved, so relieved, that he wants me,
can't truly believe it until I can touch him, see him, know physically that
it's true.  The condom was in his pocket, and I tore the foil myself,
putting it on him, arching slightly to encourage him--then the first hard
thrust that pressed me into the wall when he covered my mouth with his,
taking in my first gasp.

First time is always about possession--so I'm marked inside and out, so
there's nothing about me that is anything but his.  Tracing my body with
each thrust, kissing me so he feels every gasp--he never loses control that
first time.  It's not about him at all--it's about me, about ownership,
about showing me everything he can't and won't say the only way he knows
how.  It's about feeling me shiver against him, hearing me moan, watching
me come just for him, for what he does to me.  His mouth was against my
throat when he came, and he braced a hand against the wall to hold us
steady as we shuddered through the aftershocks.

"I love you," I whispered against his hair, feeling his panting breath on
the bare skin of my shoulder, wrapping my arms more tightly around his
neck.

And always--always, it's like the first time for us both.  The first time
he pushed inside my body and inside my mind.  The way he meets my eyes so I
know everything he doesn't say.

I know he loves me.

*  *  *  *  *

It was early morning when I felt something on my back.  Faintly cold, and I
grasped at it, frowning as I brought it around.  Stared at it vaguely for a
second before the sense penetrated my sleep-fogged mind and I half sat up,
hearing him chuckle beside me.

"You sleep light."

"Eh, it's my day on-duty.  Whadya expect?"  Turned it over in my hand,
hoping to God I wasn't shaking.  My keychain, a new key and a piece of
paper wrapped around it.  Key to his apartment and his security codes.

Another small step that was so big it shook me.

"Just in case."  He covered my gloved hands with his, smiling a little like
a kid who knew that it was Saturday and time to do some serious mischief,
before he licked my shoulder.   Bodysuited now, pulled on earlier that
night, definitely not going to be used again.  "Feel free to use it."

"I can have wild parties here?"

"If you clean up afterward, feel free, baby."  A brush of his lips against
my shoulder before he went to the shower and I rolled on my back and stared
up at the key clutched in my hand.

A concrete thing.  Physical proof of an abstract concept.

Love.

The End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Personal Webpage:
www.geocities.com/seperis
www.wolverineandrogue.com/seperis

XMMFF List Archivist:  www.geocities.com/xmenmoviefanfic

PETJ, EFB, WRB, FEF, WRM, AngstGrrl, General Diebin-fan

"...I deserve to be left alone with nothing but dirty movies and my hand to
pleasure me." -- Sabretooth to Toad, in Andariel's unnamed first draft

I'm posting this for a friend...

All feedback needs to go to Pete Meilinger at mellnger@... or
p_meilinger@...

~~*~~

TITLE: Definitely Someday
AUTHOR: Peter Meilinger
E-MAIL: mellnger@..., p_meilinger@...
SUMMARY: Rogue. Logan. Mush.
RATING: PG?
TIMELINE: Hell if I know. Call it a couple years after the movie.
DISTRIBUTION: Anyone who's already got my stuff is welcome to this as
well. If anyone else actually wants
it, I'd be tickled pink to hear about it. This and all my stories can be
found on my site at

www.unfitforsociety.net/pete/fiction.html

SPOILERS: None, I don't think.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, and I'm not trying to make
money.

DEDICATIONS: To Vic, Jen, Meg and Dot. Especially Vic, 'cause she's the
one who made me write this.

NOTE: Vic pointed out that I might want to mention that my take on
Wolverine is based more on the comic book
version than on the movie version. Then I added about a million pounds
of mush, just to make Vic's teeth ache.

***

I watched Logan while he mowed the lawn. No surprise there.
I'm always watching him. If I could get a salary, and maybe
medical and dental, I'd be happy to make a career out of it.
Especially when he's mowing the lawn or doing anything else
that he takes his shirt off for.

But watching is all I can do. All I'll ever be able to do.
Not just with Logan, with anyone. I try not to let that
depress me, and usually I succeed, but just then it was
hitting me pretty hard. I sat there for a few minutes,
letting myself be depressed. Sometimes you just need a
good funk.

"Hey, kid." Logan's voice scared me half to death. I
hadn't heard him come up. I looked up at him, trying
not to stare. He was smiling, like he always does when
he startles me. He was still bare-chested, and he had
sweat and little pieces of grass on his chest. I managed
to stop myself from licking my lips in appreciation, but
then I realized I was staring. I blushed and turned away.

"What's wrong?" He hadn't noticed me staring at him. Of
course not. He didn't think of me that way, so it didn't
occur to him that I would think of him that way. Sometimes
I hate having him inside my head, hate how well I know him.

"Nothing's wrong, Logan. I'm just tired. Got a lot of
studying to do, y'know?" I held up my chemistry notebook
to prove my point.

He shook his head. "I don't see how you can sit still
through a whole class, kid. Must be boring as hell." He
opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it
and chuckled. When he saw the confused look on my face,
he explained. "I was gonna offer to help you study, but
I don't imagine I'd be much use. I can't remember if I
even went to school, let alone anything I learned."

His voice was light, but I heard the pain underneath.
Logan doesn't talk about his missing memories very often.
He doesn't like to think about it. It makes him feel weak
and incomplete. He probably doesn't realize I know that.
I've never told anyone, not even him, just how much of him
I still have inside my head. His memories and personality
have faded, but there's enough still there that I think
it's safe to say I know Logan better than anyone else.
Maybe better than he knows himself.

I smiled to take his mind out of the past. "Tell you what,"
I told him, "I'll let you know if there's something you
can help me with."

He smiled. Not a big smile, but this is Logan we're
talking about. Any smile is a victory. "You do that,
kid. You do that. In the meantime, I gotta take the
lawnmower apart. The engine's all screwed up. I'll see
ya later." Without waiting for a response, he turned
and walked away.

"Bye," I called after him. It sounded pathetic. I wanted
to hit myself. But then he half-turned around and gave
me a wave and a smile. I smiled back. Two smiles in one
conversation, I thought to myself. The Wolverine must
be going soft.

Or maybe he's starting to see you as more than a kid,
the hopeful part of my brain added. I squashed that line
of thought. I doubted Logan would ever see me as an adult,
no matter how much I grew up. And I couldn't allow myself
that kind of hope. I'd never be anything more than Logan's
friend. I had to accept that.

Still, I mused to myself, being his friend means a lot.
And hey, he said he'd help me with my homework if he
could. That's pretty amazing. I'll have to keep an eye
out for something he can help me with.

***

I might have to start believing in Fate, because I found
the "something" the very next day. In Home Ec, if you can
believe it. Mrs. Porter gave us our project for the month:
find someone outside the class to teach us a recipe and
help us make it. The results would be judged by the entire
class.

Not an assignment that would make most people think of
Logan, but most people don't have his memories in their
head. I knew it was something he could help me with, and
I knew he'd enjoy it, if only he'd let himself. That was
going to be the hard part, convincing him to do it.

I found him down in the garage, working on the bike he
and Scott keep stealing from each other. Boys and their
toys.

"Hey," I said to announce my presence, even though he
must've heard me coming all the way down the hall.

"Hey, kid. Be with ya in a sec," he said while he finished
tightening the bolt he was working on. When he was done,
he wiped his hands clean on a greasy rag as he stood up
and turned to face me. "What's up?"

"Why does anything have to be up?" I teased. "Do I need
a reason to spend some time with the nasty old Wolverine?"

I expected him to laugh, but he didn't. He just gave me
a lopsided grin as he said, "'Course not. You're welcome
anytime, you know that."

The look in his eyes told me it was as much a question
as a statement, so I smiled at him as I answered it. "I
know." Then I blushed as I admitted, "Actually, I do have
a favor to ask."

That got me a laugh. "Anything you need, kid, it's yours."

Oh, I'm gonna hold you to that, sugar, I thought to myself.
Aloud, I said, "Remember yesterday when you said you'd help
me with my homework, if you could?"

"Sure," he said, surprised. "You mean you've got something
I can help you with?"

I didn't say a word, just nodded and handed him the
assignment sheet. He read it quickly, then stared at
me in disbelief.

"Cooking?!" His tone indicated I was asking him to do
something worse than fight Sabretooth, Mystique and
Magneto all at once.

I chuckled. "Cooking," I confirmed. "What, you don't
think you'd look good in one of those white chef's hats
and an apron?" And nothing else? I added to myself with
a blush.

He glared at me, but there was no heat in it. "I don't
know how to cook," he told me as indignantly as he knew
how. He turned back to kneel beside the motorcycle.

"That's not what Tiny Tim Hunter tells me," I drawled.
I laughed as Logan shot to his feet so fast he knocked
the bike over.

He glared at me again, then broke down and laughed with
me. "Dammit, kid, it's no fair, you knowing what I know.
Makes lying a losing proposition." I just smiled at him,
and he went on. "So, you know about Tiny Tim, huh?" I
nodded, and he sighed. "Okay, then, you got it. Meet me
in the kitchen after cleanup tonight."

He pulled the bike upright and went back to working on
it, muttering all the while about punk-ass kids who know
too much for their own damned good. I giggled and left,
a huge grin on my face.

***

Logan ate dinner with Kurt and Ororo that night, like he
usually does. I eat with them some nights, but I figured
I'd best give him some space if I wanted him to be in a
good mood after dinner. So, I ate with Jubilee and Kitty
at a table across the room. They just about busted a gut
laughing when I told them Logan was going to teach me a
recipe.

"Logan?!" Kitty squealed.

"Cooking?!" Jubes screeched.

"Quiet, you two!" I hissed as half the nearby tables
turned to look at us.

"Oh, no, babe. This is not something to be kept quiet,"
Jubilee informed me. "This is something to be shouted
from the rooftops."

"Yeah," Kitty said, still giggling. "I mean, the Wolverine
in the kitchen? Talk about a fish out of water."

"I'll have you know," I informed them smugly, "that I
have it on good authority that he's a damn fine cook."

"What authority?" Jubilee demanded, then nodded to herself
as Kitty and I just looked at her. "Oh, right, the memory
thing. Duh. Kinda weird, though, you knowing something
like that about him."

I nodded and smirked. "Logan says it's not fair how much
I know, since it means he can't lie to me."

"Aww, poor Logan," Kitty crooned, and we all giggled.
We turned to look across the cafeteria at him.

He was staring at us. When we looked at him, he shook
his head and smiled. He raised his beer in salute, then
turned to say something to Kurt and Ororo. They both
laughed and looked at us. Kurt blew us a kiss, with his
tail instead of his hand.

We all giggled and turned back to each other.

"God, Kurt's cute," Kitty mused.

"Yeah," Jubes agreed. "It's the fur. Him and Hank both."
She thought for a moment, then grinned evilly at me.
"Hey, there's a thought. Maybe you should go after one
of those two, Rogue-baby. I bet the fur would mean you
could touch 'em just fine. If ya know what I mean," she
finished with a wink and a leer.

I blushed and started to reply, but Kitty beat me to it.
"Forget it, Jubes. You know there's only one man for our
Rogue." I glared at her, and she stuck her tongue out at
me. Then her eyes lit up, and she got a wicked grin on her
face. "I just thought of something - you've got Logan's
memories in your head, right?"

"Some of 'em, yeah," I allowed, wondering where she was
headed. I had a feeling it was nowhere good.

"Do you have any memories of him naked?"

I just stared at her in shock. I couldn't believe she'd
asked me that. Jubilee I would've expected it from, but
not Kitty!

As if on cue, Jubes jumped in. "Ooh! That's a damned
good question, Kitty-Kat. What's the answer, Rogue?
Any naked memories? Or better yet, any naked-and-not-
alone memories?" She licked her lips and gave me another
wink.

"Keep your voices down," I hissed. "People are looking!"
There wasn't actually anyone looking at us, but it bought
me some time to get myself under control. Jubes and Kitty
turned to see who had overheard them, and by the time they
turned back to me I was okay.

"None of your business," I informed them smugly.

"She does!" Kitty squealed in delight. I just smiled.

"She certainly does," Jubilee agreed. "Now, the question
is, are we talking R-rated or Triple-X?" When I blushed
again, she pounced. "Aha! Porn it is, huh? Well, well,
well. We want details, girl! Length, girth, stamina, all
the good stuff."

I glared at her. "There ain't no way you're getting
details out of me, Jubilation Lee. You should be ashamed
of yourself, asking me that!"

She waggled her eyebrows at me. "You just want to keep
the images all to yourself, don't ya, babe?"

I looked down at my plate and refused to answer. And I
continued to refuse all through the rest of dinner, much
to Kitty's and Jubes' annoyance. Every once in a while,
I'd look up at them and smile dreamily. It drove them
nuts. It was the most fun I'd had in ages.

***

I was still in a great mood when I walked into the
kitchen to meet Logan later on. He was looking through
the cupboards and cursing under his breath.

"Whatcha doin'?" I asked.

He snorted and shook his head. "Not much. This place
doesn't have half the stuff we're gonna need."

He started counting off on his fingers. "Peppers, beans,
spices, meat, all sorts of shit. Stuff," he amended quickly.
He's so cute when he's watching his language.

"Sounds great. What are we making?"

He looked at me in confusion. "I didn't tell you?"

I shook my head. "Nope. You just growled at me to be
here and went back to the bike."

"I didn't growl," he protested.

"I heard a growl," I assured him.

"There was no growl," he insisted.

"Well," I admitted, "maybe not a growl, but there was
definitely a glower."

Logan nodded. "Yeah, I'll cop to the glower, I guess.
But you had it coming."

"Did not!" I protested.

"You did, too," he assured me calmly.

"Did not!"

"I'm not gonna argue with you, kid."

"You are, too!" I said with a grin.

"I am not!" he snapped. Then he realized what he'd said
and we laughed for a while.

I love to laugh with him, about anything or nothing at
all. He's all mine when we're laughing together. That's
a strange way to put it, but it's the truth. He never
jokes around like that with anyone but me. He gets
along great with Kurt and Ororo, and he's friends with
a lot of other people here at the mansion, but he always
keeps his guard up, just a little bit. He'd never argue
about the difference between a growl and a glower with
anyone but me. It's stupid, but it makes me feel closer
to him.

When we stopped laughing, I reminded him, "You still
haven't told me what we'll be making."

"Texas Rattlesnake Chili," he informed me proudly.

"Chili? Cool, I like chili. But why's it called
Rattlesnake Chili?"

"Because it's got rattlesnake in it," he said with a
look that told me he was wondering how I could possibly
not already know that.

"Snake meat? I am NOT eating snake meat!" He opened his
mouth to say something, but I cut him off. "And if you're
about to say 'it tastes like chicken' then you're gonna
have to explain why the hell we can't just use chicken."

His mouth snapped shut. After a moment, he chuckled.
"Yeah, good point. It doesn't really taste like chicken,
though. And besides, who the hell ever heard of Texas
Chicken Chili? It's just wrong."

Okay, he had me there. "Where can we get rattlesnake
meat?" I asked.

"Hell if I know," he admitted. "I'll figure it out
tomorrow. When's this thing due?"

"Not until next Thursday."

"Good. Gives us plenty of time."

"Yeah," I said. "But I was hoping to get started tonight."
That was only half true. I didn't care when we did the
chili, but I wanted to spend some quality time with Logan.

Maybe he felt the same way, or maybe he could just tell
I was disappointed, because he looked around the kitchen
and said, "Well, I guess we could do something else. You
up for some cookies?"

I'm sure my jaw hit the floor. "You know how to bake
cookies?"

He gave me an embarrassed smile. If I didn't know him
better, I'd have sworn he was blushing. No, dammit, he
*WAS* blushing!

"It's not rocket science, kid. It's just cookies. Why
wouldn't I know how?"

"Why *WOULD* you know how?" I demanded.

"I learned working for Tim," he said with a shrug. "I
thought you already knew all about this," he accused.

It was my turn to shrug. "The memories are pretty fuzzy.
I just knew you worked for a guy named Tiny Tim Hunter
as a cook and bartender in his bar. I don't even know
where the bar was."

"Right outside Vancouver."

"Okay," I said, nodding, "I remember that now. And Tim
was a short guy, right?"

"Yeah," Logan confirmed with a grin. "About five foot
nothing, maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.
All of it muscle. We called him the Little Big Man. He
used to box as a flyweight, a long time ago. He was
about sixty when I knew him, but he was still hell on
wheels in a fight."

His eyes lost focus, the way they do when he's remembering
something good. I don't get to see that look on his face
nearly often enough, and I cherish it every time I do.

"And he taught you to bake cookies?" I asked, to get
him going again.

That got a chuckle out of Logan. "Yeah. He taught me
how to cook all sorts of sh... stuff. Him and his wife,
Linda. They were both great cooks, but they preferred
to stay out in the main room, where the action was.
They knew everyone in the neighborhood, and everyone
loved them."

"But why did he teach you to bake cookies?" I prodded.

Logan glared at me. "You're not gonna let that go, are
you?" When I shook my head, he snorted. "Fine. Tim and
Linda liked cookies, that's all. So did everyone else
at the bar. I tell you, it's amazing how well a couple
of chocolate chip cookies can taste after you've had
a few. We used to put 'em out in baskets next to the
peanuts, a couple nights a week. We'd be baking all
day long."

"The bar went through that many cookies?" I don't know
why, but that didn't ring true to me. Maybe it was a
piece of his memories coming back to me.

His eyes darted away from mine, and I knew it was
definitely something. "Well, no," he admitted slowly.
"It wasn't just for the bar. We gave a lot of them
away."

"Away to who?" I sing-songed. I couldn't quite see the
memory that would've answered my question, but I knew
it was going to be good.

"There was, uh," he stalled. "There was a shelter next
door, and we used to send a few dozen a week over there.
And we brought some more to another place."

The memories finally clicked. "It was a battered women's
shelter!" I laughed. "And an orphanage! There was an
orphanage right outside town." I gave him my most wicked
grin. "You used to bake cookies for orphans, Logan."

He blushed again, and I swear it was the sweetest thing
I've ever seen. "I did not!" he denied. "I baked them
for Tim. What he did with them was his own damned business."

I closed my eyes so I could visualize the memories I'd
just recalled. "As I remember it, it was you who delivered
them. And the kids loved to play with you, didn't they?"
My eyes snapped open and I gasped in delight as I hit the
mother lode. "They all called you Uncle Logan! And you
gave them piggyback rides!!"

I started laughing so hard I thought I'd bust a gut.
And when Logan hung his head and refused to look at me,
I just laughed even harder.

After awhile, I slowed down to the giggles, and eventually
those went away too. I looked over at Logan. He was glaring
at me, but I could tell he was hiding a smile.

He shook his head in disgust. "I suppose this is gonna
be all over the school by tomorrow morning?"

I smiled at him. "Not a chance, sugar. This is too good
to share." And it was. It was another little piece of
Logan that I could keep all to myself.

My smile grew more serious as another thought occurred
to me. "The kids here like you too, y'know. You're good
with them."

He looked away and shrugged. "Yeah. I like kids, most
of the time. What you see is what you get. And we have
some common interests."

That was the truth. The younger kids at the mansion had
learned to follow Logan around, because he was always
willing to explain things to them. How to break down an
engine, how to fix a broken window, how to cut down a
dead tree. It was mostly stuff they didn't understand,
but they didn't care, because he talked to them like
they were equals. Kids like that, and he got along
pretty well with them.

The teenagers were another matter. Logan put up with
Kitty and Jubilee for my sake, but he avoided the rest
like the plague. Which was hard, given that most of
them thought he was pretty cool. I was the only one
my age that Logan ever really talked to. It made me
feel special.

I realized I hadn't responded to Logan's comment. I'd
just been staring at him, lost in my thoughts. I started
to blush and stammer out some sort of reply, but then
I saw that he was staring at me, too, and he seemed to
be lost in his own thoughts.

"What are you thinking about, Logan?" I asked.

He jumped a little, startled, then smiled. "This and
that, darlin', this and that. How 'bout yourself?"

I nodded. "Nothing, really." Which was a lie, of course.
I was thinking about what a damned good father Logan
would be, and wishing I could be the one to help him
realize that. But I could never tell him that, as much
as I wanted to.

We stood there for awhile, looking at each other, then
he turned and started pulling things out of the cabinets.
Cookie-things.  "Looks like we can do oatmeal or chocolate
chip," he said. "Or peanut butter, I guess. What do you
think?"

I started to answer, but stopped myself. "What's your
favorite?" I asked.

He considered the question, and said, "I'm a chocolate
chip man at heart, darlin'."

That was the second time he'd called me darling in just
a few minutes. I liked it. I liked it a lot, actually.
I tried not to read too much into it, but it was hard
not to.

"Chocolate chip it is, then," I said.

He smiled at me, then turned to the ingredients. "Okay,"
he said, "turn on the oven, will ya?"

"What temperature?"

"Somewhere between three-fifty and three-seventy-five."

"Okay," I said, turning the knob. "Oven's on. What's
next?"

"Grab some eggs and butter out of the fridge."

I went and got the butter and eggs. When I got back to
the counter, Logan was using a spoon to scoop flour into
a mixing bowl.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Aren't you supposed to
use the cups?"

"Measuring cups," he informed me, "are for wimps."

I just looked at him for a minute. "Measuring cups are
for wimps?" I demanded.

"That's right," he said. I thought I detected the hint
of a smile on his face, but I couldn't be sure. He's
good at hiding them when he wants to.

"Measuring cups are for wimps?" I asked again. He nodded.
"So, you only bake cookies if it's manly, is that it?"

"That's right, darlin'," he answered, throwing a pinch
of salt and baking soda in with the flour. "Only way to
bake."

"Tell me," I asked with a smile, "exactly how did you
manage to turn baking cookies for orphans manly? 'Cause
I gotta say, I just don't see it."

He shrugged and started mixing with the spoon, but this
time I know I saw the smile. "Well," he said, "I'll admit
that was a challenge. But once I started mixing gunpowder
in with the flour, I was okay."

I laughed, and he let the smile out as he chuckled with
me.

We laughed a lot over the next few minutes. It felt good.
Felt great. It felt normal, like Logan and I were just
two ordinary people baking cookies, not the untouchable
girl and the killer without a past. It felt normal.

Maybe that's why I kissed him.

It's not the only reason, of course. Being that close
to him has always made me want to kiss him, but I'd
never succumbed to temptation before. Maybe it was the
everyday, domestic feel of it, I don't know. Or maybe
it was the smell of baking cookies. After that night
in the kitchen, I'm willing to state that chocolate
chip cookies are definitely an aphrodisiac.

The first batch was in the oven, and we were dropping
the second batch onto a cookie sheet. We hadn't said
much for awhile, but that was okay. I like talking to
Logan, but I like being quiet with him even more. And
he was still smiling, a small, secret little smile. I
knew he was having fun. I knew he was happy to be spending
time with me.

I wasn't wearing my gloves. I took them off when we
started mixing the first batch. They were getting too
dirty. Most people get nervous when I take my gloves
off, but not Logan. He never batted an eye. That's
another reason I enjoy spending time with him. Another
reason I felt like an ordinary person.

Our hands touched while we were reaching into the mixing
bowl for more dough. I didn't move for a second. It felt
good to touch him. Then I came to my senses and jerked
my hand out of the bowl, looking fearfully at Logan.

He looked back at me calmly. "It's okay, darlin'. No
harm done."

He was right. The connection hadn't started, so it was
okay. But he was still looking at me, and I couldn't
decipher the emotions I saw in his eyes.

And then I moved. I grabbed the scarf from around my
neck, and I pressed it against Logan's face, and I
kissed him.

He froze. For a long second, he didn't move, and I
thought I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Then
his arms were around me, and he pulled me against him,
and it was wonderful. I brought my hands up and ran
them through his hair. I was getting cookie dough in
his hair, and he was getting it all over my shirt, but
I didn't care. My hands wandered down to caress his
neck.

It was only after I felt the connection start that I
remembered I wasn't wearing my gloves.

First came the prickly heat that I'd felt the other
times I'd touched Logan. It flooded through me like
adrenaline, making me even more excited.

Then came the senses. I could hear our hearts beating,
smell our arousal, taste the lust we felt for each other.
I moaned and pulled myself closer to him. He groaned and
ran his hands over my body, and I was in heaven.

But then I felt his emotions. Fear and guilt and shame
hit me like a sledgehammer, and I pushed him away with
frenzied strength. He was off-balance and weakened from
the drain. He tripped and hit the floor hard.

I stood there for a moment, breathing hard and staring
at him. He looked up at me from the floor, his eyes full
of emotion. Fear. Guilt. Shame.

I turned and ran from the kitchen.

***

I was on the bench by the pond when he found me. I like
to go there to think, or just to be alone. Most everyone
knows to leave me be when I'm out there. Ororo comes and
sits with me sometimes, but she never says anything, so
I don't mind.

I heard Logan coming, of course. I knew his senses would
be with me for at least a week before they faded. The
emotions would fade, too, but I knew I'd never forget
the way he looked at me. I'd never forget the way he
rejected me.

"Hey, k... Marie," he began, as he sat down next to me.

I laughed bitterly. "I'm not a kid anymore, huh?"

He sighed. "You haven't been a kid for a long time.
Since before I met you, I guess."

"No," I agreed. "Not for a while now. I'm surprised
you noticed."

That drew a snort of disbelief out of him. "Be hard not
to notice, darlin'. And..."

"Don't," I cut him off. "Don't call me that, Logan. I
don't want you calling me that anymore."

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. I'd hurt
him with that, I could tell. Good, the spiteful part
of my brain whispered.

"I'm sorry, Marie," he said, looking at the ground.

I laughed again, humor mixed in with the pain. "You
don't have to be sorry, Logan. It's not your fault
you don't want me."

His head whipped up. "Now, where the hell did you get
that idea?" he demanded.

I looked at him scornfully. "You're in my head, Logan.
I know what you felt when I kissed you."

He shook his head. "No, you don't, Marie, because I
definitely wasn't thinking that I didn't want you."

"What?" It was all I could say.

He sighed, and looked out across the pond. "It's not
that I don't want you," he said in a very low voice.
"It's that I can't have you."

"What?" I asked again. I was completely bewildered. I
had never even imagined that Logan might see me as more
than a sister. I knew he cared about me. I had never
doubted that. But he wanted me? I couldn't believe it.
"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping against hope that
he might feel the same way I did.

He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "It's
like," he began, then trailed off. He didn't say anything
more for a minute, and I didn't say anything either. I
just sat there silently and let him collect his thoughts.
To be honest, I don't think I could have spoken if I'd
wanted to.

"I knew you had a crush on me," he said, finally, "but
I thought it was just kid stuff."

"It's not," I said, willing him to believe me. "It's
more than that."

"I know," he agreed, nodding. "If you say it's more,
I believe you. But I didn't know that until tonight.
So I told myself it couldn't happen. That there were
too many reasons we couldn't be together."

"What reasons?" I demanded.

He sighed again. "Age, for starters. I'm too old, Marie.
And you're too young."

"Well, you are too old," I allowed, and he laughed.
A real laugh this time, and my heart soared to hear
it. "But I won't always be too young," I went on,
after he stopped laughing.

He nodded. "That's true."

"So what's the problem?" Before he could answer, I
went on. "I think I'm old enough now, Logan. Even
if you don't think so, I will be, soon enough. So,
if not now, maybe someday...?" I let the question
trail off.

Logan closed his eyes, and I could hear the pain
in his voice when he spoke. "I don't do too well
with someday, Marie. I don't have a past. You know
that."

"I don't care," I assured him.

"I know. I know you don't. But what that means is,
I feel like I don't have a future, either."

"You can," I told him. "We can. Together." I couldn't
believe how sure I was, considering how uncertain and
scared I'd been just a short while before. But I was
right, I knew it. It felt right.

"I want that," he said, his voice full of emotion.
"I want to have a future, and I want it to be with
you. But I can't see it. When I look, it's not there."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I had no idea what he
was talking about.

He waved his hands in the air, searching for the words.
"I can't get my head around it," he said. "That's why
I live in the here and now. The past is gone for me,
and the future is impossible to see. It's not real.
I have a hard time understanding things that I can't
see, or smell, or touch."

I felt tears coming to my eyes. "And you can't touch
me," I said, and all the pain came out in my voice.

"No!" he cried, finally looking me in the eye. "That's
not what I meant, Marie. That's not what I meant at all.
I'm doing this all wrong." He brought his hands up to
my shoulders. I tried to shrug them off, but he wouldn't
let me. He pulled me into a tight hug, then leaned us
both back against the bench, keeping his arm around my
shoulders. I sighed contentedly and rested my head on
his shoulder.

"That's not what I meant, Marie," he repeated. "I can
touch you whenever I want to." He brought his head down
to rest carefully on mine. "Sometimes," he whispered,
"I'd swear you're the only person in the world I've
ever really touched, or who's ever really touched me."

I tried not to cry, but it was hopeless. The tears
started streaming down my face, but I was smiling at
the same time. I put my arms around Logan and squeezed
him as tight as I could. "I love you, Logan," I said,
then froze. I couldn't believe I'd said it out loud,
and I waited fearfully for his reaction.

He brought his thumb up to wipe at my tears, brushing
them away before my skin had time to affect him. "I
love you, too, Marie," he said softly, and I started
crying and smiling even harder.

"But not yet," I said, after a moment.

He kissed the top of my head. "Not yet," he agreed,
and I could hear the regret in his voice.

"Maybe someday?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Definitely someday," he promised, and it was enough.

***

So that's where we stand. Someday we'll be together.
We don't know how long it'll take, but that's okay.
It'll be worth the wait.

Oh, and for those who are interested, we did eventually
make the chili. It went over pretty well. I got an A.
And Logan's cookies are the smash hit of the season.
And the way we've been acting together has all the
gossips talking.

Life is good.

END

Summary:  When the line between fantasy and reality starts to blur, how can
you tell where dreams end and memory begins?

Thanks to:  Charon MMM, who did a wonderful job beta'ing

Disclaimer:  Not mine.  Enough said.

Archive:  Go ahead and take it, though I wouldn't mind if you dropped me a
note to let me know where.

Note:  Though this is in four parts, due to the stupidity of my email addy,
it's meant to be read as one thing.

*

When he awoke, he could feel the fire still burning merrily, the heat from
it gently warming his cheek.  He lay perfectly still, keeping his breathing
even, as he looked for what had woken him.  He couldn’t smell anything out
of place, and no noises drifted to his ears from the dark around him.

No noises at all, save the sputtering of the fire.  The night life was
silent.

He waited, patiently.  Nothing changed.  He finally cracked one eye partly
open.

Standing on the other side of the fire was a young girl, partially obscured
by the flames.  She stood, unmoving, gazing at him steadily with deep
vibrant eyes the colour of a summer sky on a hot day, shocking against her
pale skin and white blonde hair.  She’d known the second he awoke, though
he'd kept up the pretence, one eye open only enough to watch her.  She said
nothing.

She carried no scent, though she looked as solid as he himself.

The wind shifted suddenly, and the fire blazed up.  When it died back down,
she was gone.  He was out of his sleeping bag in an instant and where she
had stood, straining his senses for any hint of her identity.

There wasn’t a single track in the campsite, save for his own.


Then the wind was whipping past his face, carrying the scent of turning
leaves, hot asphalt, and exhaust.  Shaking his head, Logan gave himself a
mental smack as he snapped out of it, thankful that he hadn’t lost his
balance on the motorcycle.  His healing factor would look after him, but it
would still hurt like a bugger if he crashed.  The dreams were coming even
during the day now.  He had no control over them, couldn’t even feel them
coming on.

He’d hoped that they’d stop after he left Xavier’s, but in the two months
since then, they’d only increased in frequency.  He’d been free of them for
almost two years.  Now he wondered if he should’ve told Chuck about them,
let the man take a few laps inside his head, trying to figure out what had
caused them.  They’d started suddenly, a bit more than three years ago,
brought on by nothing that he could pin down.  They’d ended just as
abruptly, not bothering until he was saved by the weather witch and one
eye.

The worst part of it was, back then, he had never been able to remember
them for long after waking, just that they felt incredibly real.  Now, they
seemed to blend with the weather witch’s soft voice and white hair, the way
that Marie had looked at him when she’d said that she couldn’t touch
people.  Now they haunted him incessantly.

  Opening the throttle up, Logan accelerated, pulling easily up to the car
that shared the road with him.  The man inside flipped him the bird.

Logan grinned at him, and popped his middle claw.  The man’s face contorted
in shock, and Logan moved the motorcycle out in front as the driver swerved
on the road.

“Jackass,” he muttered under his breath.

Leaving the car behind him, Logan roared down the old highway.  Just
enjoying the feel of air in his face, he followed the road where it led,
trying to clear his head.  He turned onto the interstate, weaving among the
heavier traffic on Scott’s liberated bike.  When it grew too heavy, he
pulled into the lanes and impatiently waited.

*I gotta be getting near a big city,* he thought.  He hadn’t been paying
much attention to where he was going, not really caring, but being slowly
drawn here.  Looking around, he saw a sign that read Boston City Limits, 20
Miles.  It hung slightly crooked on orange posts.

Recognition stirred within him, and he felt filled with the echoes of a
sudden need to hurry.  “Time’s running out,” he whispered.  The conscious
part of him knew that this was the remnants of memories long past, buried
under the amnesia.  But that part was being submerged in alien feelings,
worry for someone, and something akin to panic rising up in him.  He pulled
to the shoulder and gunned the motor, speeding towards the rising buildings
he could see faintly, off in the distance.

By the time he actually reached the outskirts, he was thinking rationally
again.  He was in a huge city, his cash reserves almost depleted.  He
couldn’t set camp in the park, couldn’t hunt for his food.  He’d need to
find a place to chain the bike, a chain, a job.

The thought of turning around, or driving right through Boston never
crossed his mind.

He was already in too deep.

*

“Jack,”  the mutant known only as Mastermind started as he walked into the
huge office.  The man seated in the leather chair raised his hand,
motioning the telepath to stop.  He continued to look out the plate glass
window, at the city bustling fifty stories below them, as he finished his
call on the headset.

He spun the chair around to face his subordinate, hanging the headset over
the corner of the flat screen monitor.  Rubbing his dark hair, the man
asked, “What is it, Mastermind?” His cultured voice was heavy with a
Bostonian lilt.

“Well, sir, I’m afraid you’re not going to like this.  He’s back in town.”

“Who?” the other man asked in exasperation.  He took a look at Mastermind’s
face, and knew.  “Does my daughter know?”

“No, I checked her blocks.  They're still holding strong.  She’s under
control.”

“Good.  Does he remember?”

“I don't think so, but I’m afraid to go too deeply into his mind.  He’s
been in contact with a very powerful telepath.  I don’t want to take the
chance that he’s still under surveillance, but if I had to hazard a guess,
I’d say that he has no idea.”

“So by acting, we might create a situation where there was none?”

“Essentially.”

“Keep up passive scans on him.  I want to know what he’s doing, who he’s
seeing, what he’s eating.  We’ll leave him alone for the time being, see
how it develops.  But if there is the smallest sign...”

“I understand.”

“And Mastermind,” the man continued, his cold voice stopping the mutant as
he headed for the door.  “When we are here, I’m always Robert.  And to you,
I’m always Mr. Frost.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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~
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Disclaimers, etc:  See part A

AN:  Yes, I know that 'At least I've chosen as side' is an Ororo line, but
we're talking dreams here.

*

Logan pushed his way through the throngs on the sidewalk, cursing the lack
of parking spaces which had made him leave the bike chained up three blocks
from his intended destination.  He glanced at the want ads in the paper,
making sure that he was in the right area.  All of the circled ads were
crossed out with red pen, save for the last one.  Dock worker for a
shipping company.  All of the other interviews had been the same.  The
personnel recruiter would look at him strangely, ask him with distaste
what his name was...



“You have a name, girl?” Logan asked the blonde in his campsite again.
She’d been coming for the past five weeks, never staying long, never moving
much, never trying to communicate, but listening.  Somewhere along the way
he’d started to talk to her, as if she were a diary, and he the little girl
that kept it.  She’d become his silent companion.  He guessed that he
didn’t mind that much.  It helped take the sting out of the loneliness that
even an assassin was prone to.

No matter where he travelled, she’d find him, somehow keeping up with him,
even though she looked all of eight.

He wondered if maybe he was going insane, if he spent his nights confiding
in a figment of his imagination.  She didn’t have a scent, never ate, and
appeared and disappeared without a single trace.

She continued to stare into the fire.  Thinking that she hadn’t heard him,
Logan reached out to touch her wrist.  She reacted violently, jerking away
from him, stumbling backwards.  She stood, ready to take flight, her eyes
wild with fear.

“It’s all right,” he said soothingly, not knowing why he cared if she ran
and never came back.  Now that he thought of it, he’d never touched her.
Now he knew that she was substantial, at least.  He wondered what had been
done to her, to make her so afraid of human touch.  “Look, I’m not going to
hurt you.”  When she didn’t change her posture, he tried again,  “If it
makes you feel better, I won’t try and touch you.”  She still didn’t react.
“Fine.  You want to stand away from the fire, and me, go ahead.”  He sat
back down and pulled his shoes off.  When he turned around, she was gone.
Cursing, he threw his boot at a tree.


People gave Logan a wide berth as he swore and threw a newspaper down the
sidewalk.  He stopped himself before popping his claws.  Raising his hands
to his head, he leaned back against the office building he found himself in
front of.

If this didn’t get better soon, by the time he found out who was
responsible for this, someone was going to be in for a world of hurt.

Biting back his anger, he walked over to the curb, where the paper had
skidded, and picked it up.  He started to ask someone where he had wandered
while he was on autopilot, so he could get to the one business left in his
list of possible employers.  He glanced at the building, grunting at the
sight of the sign hanging above the door.

Frost Industries.  He pushed through the revolving doors and into the
lobby.

He was right where he was supposed to be.

Upstairs, Mastermind’s eyes shot open at what his scan revealed.
//Security.// He called, alerting them.  //The target is down at the front
desk.//

Logan smiled gruffly at the receptionist, a woman in her mid thirties,
trying to look twenty-six.  She took in his clothes, and the stubble which
had grown up on his face since his last shave that morning, pursed her
bubble gum pink lips, and forced her voice to be pleasant.   “Hello.  How
may I help you?”

“I’m here about the loading job.  I saw your ad in the paper.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, expression belying the comment.  “The position has
already been filled.”

“Since this mornin’ darling?  This paper is brand new,” he said, holding it
up.  She grimaced slightly.  It was looking a little worse for the wear
after its trip down the road.  “Why don’t you just check in that nice
little computer of yours?”

Something strange passed across her face.  “I’ll take a look,” she said,
suddenly more pleasant.  She typed something into the keyboard, then turned
to him and smiled.  The smile was more unnerving than her earlier thinly
veiled hostility.  “You’re in luck,” she said.  “Turns out someone quit
this morning, so there is an opening after all.  If you’d just like to go
up to the thirteenth floor, then Mr. Masadu will give you an interview,”
she said brightly.

Logan felt his hackles go up.  The receptionist’s sudden change in attitude
and story felt suspicious.

Almost like she’d received instructions.

*Screw the job.  Something is seriously wrong here,* he thought, turning to
go.

“Hey!”  Yelled the receptionist.  “Aren’t you going to go up?”

Logan lengthened his stride, keeping his hands at the ready.  The elevator
behind him pinged, discharging its passengers.  He turned to see a group of
uniformed guards standing there at the ready.  If he’d gone to get in, they
would’ve gotten him for sure.  A guard was blocking his way to the door
now, another coming at him from the side.  He stopped and dropped into a
fighting stance, a smile curling at his lips.  It’d been a while since he’d
had a good tussle.

Then he found himself standing up and marching over to the elevator, which
was being held open by one of the guards.  He fought, but his body was out
of his control.  His legs moved against his will, and he found himself
stepping into the elevator.

The last thing he saw before everything went black was the stock of one of
the guard’s gun slamming towards his temple.

*

Logan moved his arms slowly, following the pattern Mariko had taught him.
Feeling the twinge that told him the girl was there, he continued, letting
nothing but the movement intrude upon his consciousness.  Finishing, he
glanced over his shoulder to see Aurora mimicking his motion.  He smiled at
her.  She started a little at his gaze, hanging her head so that he
couldn’t see her eyes.

“You’re getting good, Aurora,” he said gruffly.  Surprised, she looked up
at him.  Seeing that he wasn’t teasing, a grin split her face like nothing
he’d ever seen.

He sat down at the fire and reached for his supper.  The pot of beans sat
partially into the flames, warming slowly.  Or at least, they should have
been warming slowly.

Swearing, he jerked his hand back, examining the blisters already rising on
his skin from the pot handle.  He’d lost track of time while doing Tai Chi.
The pot had to have been in there for much more than a few minutes, judging
by the severity of the burns written across hand.  He growled.  It was
healing even then, but the pain was still shooting up his arm in jagged
lines.  Then Aurora was crouched beside him, as silent as ever.  He could
feel the concern waving off of her.  “I’ll be fine,” he grunted.

She held out her hand, demanding that he offer his up for her inspection.
Logan hesitated.  He hadn’t tried to touch her since she’d shied away from
him all that time ago.  Her eyes bored into him, telling him not to be such
a baby.  When he still didn’t move, she reached forward and grabbed his
wrist, being careful to avoid touching the burn.

She watched in shock as the blisters sank back into his flesh, not letting
go until his skin returned to its natural colour.  She released his hand in
shock, stumbling backwards.  She raised her eyes to his face, slowly,
watching him carefully.  Smoke from the fire stung his eyes, and a piece of
ash or something caught in one.  Squeezing them shut out of reflex, he
fought the instinct to rub them, knowing that it would do no good.  When he
opened them, blurred with water, she was gone, leaving only one word
echoing inside his head, bouncing back and forth in a soft, lightly
inflected voice.

//Mutant.//


"At least I've chosen a side," Marie called at him as he roared away from
the school, gunning the bike.  But no matter how fast he drove, her cries
still reached his ears, Ororo still floated along beside him on the winds.
He drove faster, not wanting to look at her and see in her eyes what he had
denied himself for so long.


And he waited in the campsite, years earlier, wondering if he could catch
his mysterious visitor.  She’d only come a few times since he’d asked her
her name, tried to touch her.  So he stared into the fire, hoping that he
was finally rid of her, at the same time he sat vigilantly.  When he had
assured himself that she wouldn’t come, he turned to rise from the log,
leaping to his feet as he saw her sitting on the end, well out of arm’s
reach.

“You keep that up, and one day you’re going to end up dead,” he said.  “You
can’t always count on my not skewering you.”  She didn’t even look at him.
“Look, I can’t just keep calling you “You” or “girl”.  You going to tell me
your name?”

She continued to watch the flames dance around, inching forward to absorb a
little more of the warmth.

“If you’re not going to tell me, I’m just going to think of something to
call you.  And since I’m not very good at the name game, chances are, you
won’t like it.”

She just rubbed her hands together, blew on them, trying to force some
warmth into her long, pale fingers.  Logan took a look at what she was
wearing for the first time that night.  A  white t-shirt tucked into a pair
of washed out blue jeans, and cream high top sneakers.

Definitely not proper attire considering the temperature.

“Sarah?” He asked, getting up and walking towards his pack.  “Mildred.
Augusta.  Bess?” he asked, throwing a spare jacket to the ground by her
feet.  She quickly grabbed it and shrugged it into place.  “Naw,” he
continued.  “None of ’em seem to fit.”  He sat back down on the log,
studying her.  The colour of her eyes against her hair reminded him of
something.  He sat, trying to place it.  “Aurora.  Like the Aurora
Borealis.  I bet you don’t see them much, but up in Saskatchewan, where I
think I’m from, they’re magnificent.  It okay if I call you Aurora?”

A slight nod on her part was the only sign that she’d even heard him.

“You know, Aurora, fires in the woods with dangerous old men isn’t the
safest place for a girl your age.  Your parents must be worried sick about
you.”

That last comment drew a look filled with such disgust and pain that Logan
might have taken a step back, if he hadn't been seated.  Her face closed
over quickly though.  It was something Logan had noticed her becoming more
adept at over the past weeks, that layer of ice over her emotions.

It wasn’t something a child should be able to do.  Sometimes he thought of
what must have happened to her to make her this way.

He tried not to.  Chances were, he’d done the same things to many others.

Empathy wasn’t something that he could afford.


A hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him from his dreams.  He snapped awake
at the touch, cotton against his bare skin.  He looked up at Marie.
"Aurora's not here," she whispered, panic starting to fill her warm eyes.
Logan untangled himself from Ro, who was just beginning to wake, sitting up
in the bed.

"What do ya mean, she's not here?"

"Ah went to get a glass of water, and ah noticed that her door was open,
and you know how she always makes sure that it's locked closed.  So ah went
inside ta check on her, and, and..." Marie started to stutter.

"Take a deep breath, child."  Ro watched as Marie took a shuddering breath
and composed herself.  "Now, try again."

"Ah went to make sure that she was all right, and she wasn't there.  She
wasn't there.  Her window was open, and there were scratches on the sill,
like someone had jimmied the lock.  Her bed was a mess and ah'm worried.
Ah'm really worried.  Ah don't think that she left."

By the time that the girl had finished speaking, both Ororo and Logan were
out of bed and dressed.  Logan pelted out of the master bed room and down
the stairs, heading for Aurora's room.  Storm touched down at the same time
as his feet hit the floor, having opted simply to fly.

If Aurora had been sneaking out of the house, she just would have used the
back door.  Marie wouldn't have woken up, and she would have been less
likely to make a noise that Logan upstairs would pick up as being unusual.

He skidded to stop when he saw Aurora's room.  Storm sidled around him,
wanting to see what had startled him so badly.  The normally meticulous
room looked like a cyclone had hit it.

How had he not heard the commotion that it must have taken to destroy the
room this thoroughly?

The cool air blowing in through the window destroyed the scent of the place
a bit.  If it hadn't, Logan thought that he might have thrown up.  It
smelled of decay and something horribly *bad*.  Underneath it all, he
detected something familiar.  He followed his nose, ending up at the
window.  He reached out and touched the frame.

"What is it?" Storm asked from behind him.

His fingers came away sticky.  "Blood."  He heard Marie gasp behind him.
By the looks of it, the blood had been there for a while.  He felt the
anger start to build inside of him.

They'd never dared to come to his family's home before.  Growling, he
hopped out of the window, following the scent towards the woods.  When he
reached the shelter of the trees, something hurtled into him, and all he
knew was darkness.

He woke slowly, realizing in time that the pain suffusing his body did not
come from being attacked in the woods.  The press of cold against his side
was the only thing that lessened the aches.  As the girl danced behind his
eyelids, Logan woke in a cold cell, no more than a few metres square.  The
brick walls were featureless, unbroken even by windows.  The illumination
in the room came from a single flickering bulb above his head.  He was
lying on a thin pallet, his side against the cool brick wall.  Trying to
move, he found that the sensations in his dream hadn’t begun to tell him
just how badly bruised he really was.

He must not have been out for long though.  His injuries were just
beginning to heal over.  He winced as he rose, realizing that the guards
had had a good go at him while he was unconscious.  Logan began to pace,
working out some of the stiffness.

There was room for only a few strides before he had to turn around.  The
door was locked, of course.  But it looked to be made of ordinary wood.
Feeling a nasty expression cross his face, he moved so that he was just in
range of it.  The fools must not have known as much about him as they
thought, for them to leave him in a room like this.

Drawing back his fist, he popped his claws.

Or, he tried to.

A blinding pain shot up his arm and echoed inside his head, his claws still
retracted.

Maybe not so stupid after all.  His claws were still there, he could feel
them under his skin, but they’d found a way to prevent him from utilising
them.  His healing factor seemed to still be working, but at a slower rate,
so he had no idea how long he'd really been out.

Now all he had to do was figure out why he was being held captive, figure
out a way to get out of here, and get rid of whatever was controlling his
claws.

No problem.

Then the air in the small room grew heavy, and Logan felt himself slipping
back into dreams.

He guided the motorbike through the light night time traffic, weaving among
them as fast as he could.  A sign hanging crookedly on orange posts flashed
by him, remaining in his sight only long enough for him to read 'Boston
City Limits, 20 Miles'.  His head pounded to the beat of the machine.
Faster.  Faster.

Time was running out.

Then came the part that even now he couldn't remember, waking to echoes of
pain, smoke searing his nose.


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Disclaimers, etc:  See part A

*

As the gas filtered out of the room, Logan began to wake.  Half remembered
dreams slipped through his fingers, leaving him with a sense of loss.  He
heard a light pattering of feet outside the door.

*Aurora* he thought, reaching for her.  He felt a light brush against his
mind, cold and shocking.  Then it was gone as the feet retreated, to be
replaced by the heavier steps of two others and murmured conversation.
They paused outside the door, still conversing.  Logan stilled his body
while his mind raced, stifling the growl that tried to rise up as he
realized that he couldn't make out their words.  He had no idea who would
walk in through that door.  It could be a member of the Brotherhood, though
this didn't seem like their style.

It could be some anti-mutant group, but they would have had no way of
telling of his mutation.

Plus, chances were that if it were a hate group, he'd be dead already.

So he continued to pretend to sleep and waited for someone to come through
the door.  If only one of them entered, then he'd jump the man.

But two people walked through the door.  "You might as well get up," he was
told.  Logan just lay there as if in a drugged stupor.  "It's of no use,
you know.  Mastermind sensed you wake."

Giving up the act, Logan opened his eyes and swung to a sitting position on
the hard bed.  A slight man, the one referred to as Mastermind most likely,
leaned against the wall by the door.

The open door.

"I'm sorry for the accomodations in which you find yourself," the other man
continued, running a hand through his wavy black hair.  Logan disliked him
on the spot.  "Your arrival was rather sudden you see, and we just had to
be sure before we let you go wandering around the compound."  Following
Logan's gaze, he smiled.  "You are free to leave at any time, of course,
but I had hoped that you would stay and enjoy our hospitality."  Logan
could see the lie in the other man's eyes.  He wanted to be rid of the
mountain man as soon as possible.

But he would let Logan go free.  Feeling his stubbornness start to kick in,
he leaned back on the bed, making himself comfortable.

"Had to be sure of what, Bub?"

"That you were you."

"I'm pretty sure that I'm me.  Doesn't explain why your guards kidnapped me
and then proceeded to kick the living shit out of me when I was
unconscious. I'd like an apology for that, by the way.  And for your
Mastermind taking control of my body and marching me right over to them."

The dark haired man glanced over at his companion, who winced.  "Mastermind
acted rashly, and he is going to be suitably reprimanded.  But you are
going to have to forgive the guards."

"And why would I want to do that, Bub?"

The man took a deep breath and started to speak.

Logan interrupted.  "Better make this good, Bub."

The man's eyes flashed, but the only other sign of his annoyance was a
slight twitch in his cheek.  "My name is  Jack Frost.  I would thank you to
address me as such.  I am the Black King of the Hell Fire Club, so if you
must, you may call me by my title.  I am one of the richest men in the
world, controlling one of the most successful global shipping companies.  I
am not a man you want to make antagonize."

"Whatever you say Bub."  Logan didn't know what it was that drove him to
aggravate the man.  Something deep inside of him stirred, trying to dredge
up the memories again.  "But you sure had mean parents."

"My name is not actually Jack, you..." Frost trailed off.  "It is just
common courtesy to address those you capture by the name that you go by in
the underworld."

"I'm sure that it strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies, but let's
get down to business.  What is it about big bad old job hunting me that
scared your telepath so badly?"

"It wasn't you precisely.  It was who you'd been in contact with."  Logan's
mind started to race.  How far would he go to protect Xavier, if it meant
giving up the witch and Marie?  "You see, my daughter is a mutant."

Which one of the women that he'd left behind could have been this man's
flesh and blood?  He didn't bear as much as a passing resemblance to any of
the ones that he'd spent any time with, but looks could be deceiving.  Plus
there were more people at that school than he'd gotten to know.  Frost was
still talking.  "She's sick.  She's even spent several years in an
institution.  She has a tendency to call people towards her.  She can't see
that I love her, and try to protect her."  Frost's face didn't hold any of
the characteristics of a man speaking of his beloved daughter, though.  It
looked more like he was talking about a sick dog.  "She's been known to do
something to people's heads, often without even realizing it.  She'll leave
fake memories of herself in those who have never even lain eyes on her.
It's almost like she creates a web.  Those who are ensnared are drawn
steadily towards her, trapped in lies.  They, however, see her as the one
trapped and try to rescue her."  He paused, glancing almost imperceptibly
at Mastermind.  "We've had some rather nasty confrontations with people of
that ilk, and lost more than a few good guards.  That's why they took it
out on you, you see.  They can't bring themselves to blame my daughter,
because when she's not having a fit, she's a perfectly normal girl.  If
you'd gotten to her, I don't like to think of what the consequences would
have been, for either of you."  Frost continued to speak, but Logan began
to tune him out.  So this had nothing to do with Xavier.

Aurora was Frost's daughter.  She had to be.  Were the dreams.....

But Frost's story rang false.  Logan didn't buy it.  She may be his
daughter, but he probably wasn't representing her right.  At the back of
his mind, something ticked.  *Frost, at least a decade younger, counting
out bills into Logan's palm.  The hit had gone off smoothly.  Turning
around to leave and seeing the tail of a white nightgown disappear down the
hall.*  Logan shook himself.  Dream, planted memory, something else?  He
wasn't going to take Frost at face value.  Just look at the way he treated
his own daughter.  In all the time that he'd been talking of her, he hadn't
even said her name.  Almost as if she were a possession.  One thing was for
sure.  He wasn't going to get the truth if he left.

Something smelled here, and it wasn't just Mastermind's cologne.

*

Frost flashed his most debonair smile at Logan.  The grizzled man just
grunted as he flopped back onto the king sized bed, still wearing his
boots.  Frost continued smiling, feeling the sides of his face start to
crack.  Logan opened one eye a slit.  "You still here?"  Keeping the smile
even then, Frost walked out of the room.

Mastermind fell into step beside his employer.  "Remind me again," Frost
said, grinding to a halt, "Why, exactly, we're not just killing him."

"Emma."

"It's been long enough.  She shouldn't suffer any negative impacts."

"Jack, with all due respect, you have no idea how strong the bonds can be,
especially when the telepath is in distress during their forming.  It's not
the sort of thing that just fades away.  Never mind the fact that it was
allowed to go unchecked for so long, or that they were formed when she was
so young."

"That was why we didn't kill him then.  It's gotten old.  Couldn't you try
to cover it again?"

"His mind has already been messed with so many times.  The brain can only
be manipulated so far.  And keep in mind that with his proximity to your
daughter, she'd likely feel it.  The safest course of action is just to go
along with him, allay his suspicions."

"That's all well and good, but the first sign that he's causing a fuss,
he's gone.  This has been hanging over my head for almost three years now,
and I'm sick of it."

Logan, lying on the bed in one of the Mansion's myriad guest rooms, kept
his breathing even.  Mastermind had released his mental block on Logan's
powers when Frost had made it clear that the short man was to be his guest.
Logan's current expression didn't betray the fact that he'd heard his
reluctant host's conversation.  He had no doubt that someone was monitoring
him from a control room within the complex.

No sign passed across his face to indicate that he was left more confused
than he'd started out.  For the time frame that Frost was referring to, he
had memories.  And they didn't coincide with anything else the man said.
He could just walk out of here whenever he wanted to.  But then he'd never
find out the truth about Aurora.  About his part.

*Emma*, he reminded himself.  It seemed right.

When he was sure that Mastermind and Frost were gone for the time being, he
allowed himself to slip into sleep, hoping to find the answers there that
eluded him in day.

*

He flicked a lighter and held it to the tip of the cigar.  His last client
had thrown the Cubans in as a bonus to his fee, a reward for pinning the
hit on one of the client's not favourite people.  The hotel was
non-smoking, but  with the rate he was paying for the rather spacious room,
they'd better let it slide.  The room was a rare indulgence for him.  He
preferred to keep his own company, smell the clean night air.  He picked up
the remote, flicking aimlessly through the seemingly endless progression of
channels.

"Use Yead's Lawn Fertiliser.......This is a public service announcement,
brought.......But Bert, you promised me that you'd never drink
again!.......And the fastest jumping video so far for the summer
of.......Buffy, you can't really be thinking of going in there
alone.......Look at that, Ladies and Gentlemen!"

With a snort of disgust, he smacked the off button.  Taking a deep drag of
the cigar, he turned around.

Aurora was crouched on his bed, her posture uneasy.  As far as he could
figure, she was about fourteen.

In eight years, she hadn't spoken outloud to him, hadn't been this
skittish.

In eight years, she hadn't shown up when he was in a populated area.

"What are you doing here?"  Moving cautiously towards her, he slowed his
pace.  She started slightly at his approach.  Tension radiated off of her.
Sitting cautiously on the bed beside her, he watched her scamper away from
him.

"Hey, what's wrong, Aurora?"  She looked ready to bolt.  "Look, it's all
right.  I'm not going to hurt you."  When she didn't respond, he took a
deep breath.  Her eyes were some undefinable mix of emotions, almost
glowing in the low lights.  She looked like a wraith, white clothes and
hair, pale skin.  She seemed to have lost weight, grown harder.  Without
any conscious effort on his part, his hands darted out, seizing her above
the wrists.

::Fearpainresolvecan'ttakeitanymorewearinessending::

Then she lashed out with her foot, catching him in the solar plexus in one
smooth, practiced motion.  The flow cut off as soon as their skin broke
contact, but it echoed in Logan's head, bouncing back and forth amongst the
pain.

He expected her to be gone when he regained enough control of himself to
look up, but she was still in the room, now standing with her back pressed
against the door.

She hadn't even tried the handle to see if the door was locked.  Her hand
made an abortive grab for the knob, but stopped before making contact.

He watched as her eyes grew less wild, regained their focus.  She started
to move to his side, but pulled back.  He watched as her face iced over,
her posture stiffened.  She fell into a traditional deep bow, the one that
he'd taught her with the patterns she'd followed him as he went through.
She looked deeply at him, her eyes resolute.

He let his head fall into his hands, breathing fiercly.  When he looked up,
she was gone, leaving behind whispers of goodbye floating on the air.

All of a sudden he straightened, feeling his side protest even as he
started to move.

She wouldn't.......

He remembered the feelings floating off of her.

Urgency started to flow through him, and something pulled at his body,
calling him East.

*

Logan smoothed his bushy hair back once more.  He'd woken from the nap
feeling as if he hadn't slept at all.

The suit that he had found hanging in his room chaffed at him.  But he put
up with it, because Frost obviously didn't want him to be at the social.
He sipped at the glass of punch gingerly, grimacing at the overly sweet
taste.  Not even enough booze in it to compensate.

The aristocrats flitting around him didn't pay him any attention, other
than to raise an eyebrow.  They filled the air with expensive perfume, and
the smoke from imported cigars.  He supposed most of them thought that he
was some sort of security guard.  Snagging a canape off of the plate of a
passing waiter, he surveyed the room.  Black, blue, and grey everywhere,
with the occasional spot of red or emerald.  His own attire didn't add any
variety.

Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.  He turned his
head just in time to catch a flash of white threading through the crowd.

He headed towards where he had last seen it, pushing his way among the
people.  He received a few rude comments, but they didn't even catch his
attention.  His entire being was focussed on the glint of white.  Through
the thinning crowd, he saw someone disappear around a corner.  He walked
down the hall, turning the corner.  The hall was deserted, but a door swung
back and forth on its hinges at the end of the corridor.

Steeling himself for anything, he reached for the handle and walked inside.



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