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If Things Were Different (1/?)

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  • Jaguarita J. H.
    Title: If Things Were Different Author: Jaguarita E-mail: wild_jaguarita@yahoo.com or jaguarita@hotmail.com Disclaimer: Own nothing, sue not! Summary: How
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 29, 2000
      Title: If Things Were Different
      Author: Jaguarita
      E-mail: wild_jaguarita@... or jaguarita@...
      Disclaimer: Own nothing, sue not!
      Summary: How would Logan's life have been different if one tiny little thing
      had been different?
      Rating: PG/PG13

      His name was Logan. He didn't know how he knew that, everything else was
      gone. But he was Logan, and the woman laying senseless beside him was Vicky
      Creed. He didn't know how he knew that either, but that nearly naked body
      sure looked familiar.

      She blinked slowly, staring blankly up at the light filtering through the
      tree tops for a long moment. "Logan?"

      "Here, babe," he grunted. "Any idea what happened?"

      "Sorry, lover, the last thing I remember was getting shot with something."
      She sat up and rubbed her thigh. "Must have been a trank. Everything before
      that's fuzzy."

      "Fuzzy's better than what I've got," Logan growled. "A total blank."

      Vicky looked over at her mate and frowned. She carefully lifted the chain
      around his neck with one heavy, claw-like nail. A dog-tag dangled at the end
      of it. "Wolverine? Wonder who stuck you with that?"

      "I don't think yer one to talk, Sabertooth."

      Something deep in her solid black eyes sparked in amusement and her thick
      gold-blonde hair fell into her face. "Oh, I'm done talking, runt. Now I want
      to play."

      Logan rolled with her when her larger, heavier body slammed into his. Looked
      like Sabertooth liked to play rough. Oh, yeah, that felt familiar, too.


      Logan leaned against the cage and swirled the whiskey around in his glass as
      he locked eyes with Vicky in the deepest shadows of the trashy bar in
      Laughlin City. She gave him a slow smile, showing off her slightly elongated
      canine teeth as the fight's promoter rattled off his spiel trying to get
      another drunk to challenge the champion of the cage. She raised an eyebrow
      in silent question to which he rapidly shook his head.

      After a few more seconds a man who rivaled Vicky in size climbed into the
      cage with the man called Wolverine. Logan let the drunken bar bully get in a
      few good solid hits, even going down to make it a better show before he
      kicked the moron's ass up around his ears.

      But shit-for-brains had to go and do exactly what Mick the Promoter had
      warned him not to do.

      Vicky suddenly looked back toward the cage after being distracted by a scent
      that was *never* found in a place like this. Something that smelled...
      innocent. Her low rumbling growl made several people step away from her, but
      her ire was directed toward the man who had just ball kicked her Logan. Not
      for any perminant damage the idiot might have done, but for cutting down her
      time to watch her man get all hot and sweaty.

      Logan came to his feet and slammed his fist into the one coming at his face.
      The sound of crunching bones rang out clearly as the big man dropped to his
      knees in agony. Logan's cowboy boot came up and put the other man's light's
      out with a solid kick.

      Vicky shook her head in annoyance. The idiot had cost them money that they
      needed. Now they'd have to hunt at least part of their food when they could
      be making time on the road. She stalked over to the weasly little man near
      the bar who was counting out money to the ones who had placed money on
      Wolverine in the fight.

      He gulped as he caught sight of her scowling at him. "C-c-creed," he
      stammered. "Want your money?"

      Vicky glanced behind her where Logan was stepping out of the cage and
      picking up his shirt. "Yeah. Fork it over, pipsqueak."

      "Sure, Creed," he yelped as he followed her growled demand.

      "That all of it?" she snarled as she riffled though the bills. She was good
      at a lot of things, but counting wasn't one of them.

      He gulped and nodded rapidly. She only grunted and stalked over to the bar,
      sitting down a few stools away from the source of the out of place smell.
      The girl was staring at the tips jar as if she was trying to get up the
      courage to snatch some of the money out of it. The bartender scowled and
      moved the jar out of the girl's reach.

      Logan joined her after a few moments and threw a few bills on the counter.
      "G'me a beer."

      All three of them glanced up when the anchorman on TV mentioned the word
      'mutant' in his report. The girl shot a half fearful, half hopeful look at
      them before glancing away again.

      There was a minor skirmish that resulted in Vicky and Logan abandoning the
      bar before they had planned to, and the girl running out after them.

      "Ya didn't have to try and rip his throat out," Logan grumbled once they
      were well down the road.

      "I wasn't gonna," Vicky muttered back. "Yer the one popped claws on the

      "He was gonna shoot ya," Logan snapped.

      Vicky didn't answer. She twisted around in her seat and stared out toward
      where Logan's motorcycle was stashed on a trailer. "Something's back there."

      Logan scowled but pulled to the shoulder of the road anyway. Both climbed
      out of the truck and walked back to check it out. Logan yanked back the tarp
      and Vicky let out a bark of laughter. The girl who had stared at them in the
      bar was huddled next to the bike and now looked up at them with wide
      frightened eyes.

      "Ya know," Vicky started conversationally, "it's not so cold in the cab."

      "We ain't taking her with us," Logan barked.

      "We sure as hell ain't leaving her out here," Vicky barked back.

      The girl stared from one to the other and blinked. She frowned at the dark
      haired man. "Ah saved your life."

      "No, ya didn't," he grumbled as he stalked back toward the truck's cab.

      The tall blonde woman seemed to roll her eyes, but it was hard to tell with
      them being solid black. "Come on, kid."

      Logan gave up on arguing when the girl climbed in after Vicky. "What's yer
      name, kid?"

      "Rogue," she said firmly.

      "What the hell kind a name is 'Rogue'?" Logan demanded.

      "Mine, 'Wolverine'," Rogue snapped back.

      "It's Logan," he rumbled.

      "Marie," Rogue nearly whispered.

      "I'm Vicky."

      Rogue nodded as her stomach rumbled. Vicky reached into the glove
      compartment and found a stick of store bought jerky.

      "Here," she rumbled. "Ya ought ta eat."

      "Thanks," Rogue mumbled and yanked off her gloves before tearing into the
      greasy strip of meat. When she was done she started rubbing her hands
      together, trying to get the blood flowing back into them.

      Vicky grunted and reached over to put the girl's hands on the heater, but
      Rogue jerked a way shouting not to touch her. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, kid."

      "It.. It's not that," Rogue stammered. "When people touch mah skin,
      something happens. They get hurt."

      "Oh," was all Vicky said. She carefully untwisted her scarf from her neck
      and handed it to Rogue. "Bundle up in that. I don't get cold. And put yer
      hands on the heater there."

      Rogue quickly followed Vicky's instructions and eventually found herself
      staring at Logan's hand on the steering wheel. "Do they hurt?"

      "Everytime," Logan said without looking away from the road.

      Silence ruled until Rogue felt the need to inform Logan that he should be
      wearing a seatbelt. He started to answer when a tree fell across the road
      and Logan went flying through the windshield. Vicky slammed forward,
      snapping the lapbelt and sprawling across the hood of the truck. Rogue
      groaned and looked up to find Logan already on his feet and the gash in his
      head closing up before her eyes. Even Vicky was already starting to stir.

      "Ya okay, kid?" Logan shouted.

      "Ah'm stuck!" Rogue shouted back.

      Logan headed back but froze when his hieghtened sences caught a familiar
      scent. Vicky's eyes locked with his in confusion, then she twisted around to
      rip the jammed seatbelt off Rogue and pulled the girl free.

      Logan turned slowly as the two females scrambled away from the truck. A
      massive fist slammed into his stomach and sent him flying to slam into the
      hood of the truck, already dented from Vicky's sudden impact.

      Vicky stared blankly at the huge blonde man stalking toward her lover. "Stay
      here," she rumbled to Rogue.

      The woman called Sabertooth let her legs uncoil into a powerful leap that
      placed her between the stranger and Logan. "Ya wanna play rough, big fella,
      then ya play with me."

      The big man let his tongue run across too sharp teeth as he leared at her.

      Vicky ducked his swing for her throat and kicked out at his knee cap. She
      connected with a sickening crunch then swiped at his face with her claws. He
      howled in pain and caught her with a back hand that sent her sprawling into
      the snow. She lurched to her feet in time to see a wide beam of red light
      blast into the big man's side. Her eyes lifted to scan the rapidly rising
      blizard and saw two figures coming out of the snow. A white haired woman who
      seemed to have caused the sudden snow storm, and a dark blonde man who had
      been the source of the red blast that had thrown her enemy into the tree

      Rogue's sudden shout turned the large woman's attention from their rescuers
      back to the truck. "FIRE!"

      Vicky leapt over and yanked Logan's limp body off the hood. She ran with him
      slung over her shoulder until the fire reached the propane tanks. The
      explosion knocked her tumbling into the snow. The last thing she saw before
      blacking out was the black woman with the white hair leaning over to check
      on her.


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