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Fic: Night Visits: Engagement (1/6) [L/R] R

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  • Victoria P.
    Title: Night Visits Author: Victoria P. [vicpusateri@worldnet.att.net] Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rating: R/NC-17 - sexual situations of the romance novel
    Message 1 of 1 , Nov 7, 2000
    • 0 Attachment
      Title: Night Visits
      Author: Victoria P. [vicpusateri@...]
      Disclaimer: I own nothing.
      Rating: R/NC-17 - sexual situations of the romance novel type,
      Summary: Absence makes the heart grow fonder -- Logan has some dreams
      about Marie while he's away
      Archive: List archive; Kielle's site if she wants it and it's not too
      er sexy. Anyone else, just let me know. If you've got my other stuff,
      you can have this too.
      Feedback: Me = feedback whore
      Notes: Thanks to Dot, Jen, Meg and Pete.

      < > indicates thoughts
      // // indicates dreams
      ~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation

      Night Visits

      1. Engagement

      Rogue was tired. She had worked hard, helping Ororo plan the surprise
      engagement party for Jean and Scott. They hadn't wanted a big
      celebration, feeling it was ridiculous to have a party for an
      engagement that had existed for the past two years, even if it hadn't
      been official until a month ago. But Professor Xavier had insisted,
      and he'd deputized a willing Storm to organize a party. She, in turn,
      had called on the older students to help out. The place looked like a
      fairyland of lights when Storm and the girls were done. They had a
      big soiree in the gardens, with music, dancing and food.

      Everybody had a great time. Scott turned a blind eye as alcoholic
      beverages were consumed by the most recent graduating class of the
      school, even though they were underage.

      The only dark spot was Logan. He'd stalked around like a bear with a
      bee sting for the past month, since the engagement had been
      announced. Everyone had been afraid he'd cause a scene, but he hadn't
      shown at all, tearing off on his motorcycle early in the afternoon
      not coming back until who only knew what hour.

      Exhilarated by the success of the party, and more than a little
      tipsy, Rogue luxuriated in a hot shower. She loved showers to begin
      with, but taking one while she had a good buzz on had been a new, fun
      experience. She settled into bed and was just drifting off to sleep
      when the door to her room -- she thanked her stars that after
      graduation she'd moved into a room of her own on the teachers' floor
      -- opened.

      "Kid, you awake?"

      "I am now," she grumbled.

      "You smell like a brewery," he said, picking up on the fact that
      she'd had a few, even though she'd showered and brushed her teeth.

      "You're one to talk," she snapped back, smelling the whiskey and
      cigar smoke and cheap perfume emanating from him as he sat down on
      bed. "At least *I* don't smell like a whorehouse."

      "Marie!" he said in mock consternation. "How would you know what a
      whorehouse smells like?"

      "I got you in my head, don't I?"

      That sobered him. He knew his mere presence in her life had tainted
      her; his memories in her head had corrupted her innocence and put her
      through pain no one -- let alone a sixteen-year-old girl -- should
      have to face. "Oh. Yeah."

      She sensed his change in mood and put a hand on his sleeve. "It's
      okay, Logan," she said softly. He stared down at the ungloved hand,
      nails neatly manicured. He wondered briefly why she painted them --
      no one ever saw her hands ungloved except for him, on occasions like

      The thought drifted away as he refocused on his reason for visiting
      her. "I can't believe she's actually gonna marry that dick."

      Rogue sighed. *She* couldn't believe she had to listen to this again.
      Every night since the engagement, Logan had gone out, gotten drunk
      and come to her room, whining about Jean choosing Scott over him. She
      knew no one else had ever seen this side of him, but truthfully, she
      wished she hadn't either.

      Part of her -- the part that recognized he'd never love her that way,
      so she should take what little he'd give her -- was thrilled that he
      trusted her enough to be so unguarded. The other part -- the one that
      still dreamed of romance and adventure in his arms -- hated listening
      to him mewl and whine over Jean. She was obviously too stupid to
      appreciate his sterling qualities and choose him over her loving, but
      staid, fiancé.

      So far, the reasonable part had won out, but tonight, for some reason
      -- <Probably the beer,> she thought -- she didn't want to hear it.
      It tore her up inside to see him brought so low by his love for
      another woman, and his total obliviousness to her own feelings for
      was like salt in the wound. Didn't he realize what these nightly
      visits did to *her*?

      "I swear to God, Logan, if you do anything to sabotage that
      relationship, I'll kill you myself."

      He was startled by her ferocity. "Marie," he was the only one who
      called her that, "what are you saying?"

      "I'm sayin' she made her choice and now you have to accept it.
      Sometimes," she said, speaking from experience, "the one you love
      doesn't love you back, but life goes on. No one ever died from
      unrequited love."

      He looked at her intently, but still didn't *see*. "Any man who
      doesn't love you back would have to be insane, kid. Besides, any man
      who makes you unhappy will have to answer to me."

      <Even after three years, he still calls me that. He's never gonna see
      me as an adult. And he's never gonna see that he's the one making me
      unhappy.> She wanted to scream in frustration, but instead she
      laughed bitterly, almost hysterically. He caught the strange edge on
      it, but thought it was the beer.

      "Drink some water," he advised. "You gotta hydrate your ass so you're
      not hung over tomorrow. Then get some sleep." He lifted her ungloved
      hand, which still rested on his arm, to within a hair's breadth of
      his lips and softly kissed the air above it. She shivered at the feel
      of his breath sliding over her knuckles.


      The next night, and for many nights thereafter, there was more of the
      same. Mostly they just sat and stared at each other, each wishing
      silently for a love they didn't have.

      Finally, after a month of this, Rogue had reached her limit. The
      piece of him that was left inside her head had had enough, as well.

      "Listen to yourself," she exploded. "You're Wolverine, the baddest
      badass there ever was. And you're bitchin' and moanin' over a woman
      who doesn't even want you, like some damn pussywhipped pansy. My God,
      you make me sick."

      He recoiled as if she'd struck him. She gasped and clapped a hand
      over her mouth, but it was too late. She couldn't take it back, even
      if she wanted to. Which she didn't, really. He walked out without a

      The next morning, he was gone.

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