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FIC: An Unsusual Situation Part IV: 1/3: Logan, Rogue, L/R, S/J, all, others

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  • Jenn
    Title: An Unusual Situation Part IV: Always Remembered Author: jenn (jenn@igg-tx.net) Codes: Logan, Rogue, L/R, S/J, all, others Rating: PG-13 for this
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 7, 2001
      Title: An Unusual Situation Part IV: Always Remembered
      Author: jenn (jenn@...)
      Codes: Logan, Rogue, L/R, S/J, all, others
      Rating: PG-13 for this part: NC-17 overall
      Summary: A/U: Traveling is less fun when you gotta worry about little
      mutant girls.
      Author Notes: This part stressed me. It shouldn't have, but it did.
      Sorry about the delay.
      Dedication: Sare and Ann for beta and niceness and everyone who saw the
      first draft and said it wasn't too bad.

      For Disclaimer, explanation, etc, see Part I.

      "Whatcha doin', baby?"

      Logan jerked from the phone almost guiltily, glancing back to see--Donna?
      Liz? Nancy?--shit, you didn't forget names like that if you wanted a
      repeat experience. Blonde hair, brown eyes, great body, smiling sleepily
      from among the sheets of the cheap motel bed and he put down the receiver
      quickly, pulling out a lazy grin for her benefit.

      "Just gotta check up on someone." The phone hadn't been answered yesterday
      and it was making him jumpy as hell--though logically, if in fact they had
      been attacked, the phone would have been wrecked and he'd be getting an out
      of service notice. Which would put him on the road as soon as he could get
      his boots from under the bed.

      Hell, he was already mapping out the fastest route in his head. Ten
      minutes or less to get his ass out of here and in the truck. He could do

      {You're fucking paranoid.}

      Logan was perfectly willing to admit in the privacy of his mind that
      overreacting was his specialty

      Liz?--no, Jessica. Got it. Good to go--Jessica rolled over onto her side,
      baring impressive amounts of skin as she closed her eyes and he took a
      moment to appreciate the view before getting up, grabbing his beer with one
      hand and the phone with the other. Disconnecting the phone, he carried it
      across the room to the second plug by the bathroom door, patiently running
      the wire underneath, and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

      Locked it too. Just in case.

      Called again, tapping one finger into the tile and hearing a soft crack
      beneath his nail at ring six. Normal bathroom floors were never meant for
      mutants with unusual strength. Where the fuck were they and why the hell
      didn't Jamie invest in an answering machine, damn it?

      At ten rings, the receiver picked up.


      He felt his breath let out in sheer relief. Being Logan, he used anger to
      convey it. Which of course Jamie would know.

      "Where fuck have you been?"

      A pause, then Jamie's voice, remarkably amused, reached him.

      "Nice to hear from you, Logan. How are ya? Outside. I'm trying to teach
      your little mutant to cross-country ski. Not the easiest thing in the
      world, lemme tell you, honey."

      Logan slid down the wall, the tiles cool under his jeans, letting out
      another breath, temper cooling as quickly as it had risen. Relief, he
      wouldn't start pretending it was anything else.

      "You mind gettin' an answering machine sometime?"

      "So we can say we're outside to the sheer number of people who don't call?"

      Oh fuck her. He almost slammed the phone down, reconsidered, and rested an
      elbow on his knee.

      "How's she doing?"

      "She's a bad skier."

      He growled, sending Jamie into a fit of laughter that made him grit his

      "Sorry, Logan." She didn't sound very sorry. "She's doing great. Been
      studying a lot."

      That caught his attention.


      "She's finishing high school. I can see the expression on your face
      now--no, she's doing it from here." A pause. "She'll send in her final
      work and get her diploma in a few months. We've been talking about
      college--there's a few schools that are distance-learning, she can do it
      from here until she gets better control."

      Logan did a mental calculation of what he had in cash and how much he'd
      sent last month, trying, and failing, to figure out tuition costs--how did
      you find out that stuff anyway, did he need to go personally to enroll her?
      As usual, Jamie knew what he was thinking.

      "She can get financial aid--"

      "No. Too much risk--I don't want her investigated. Cash. Tell me how
      much and I'll pay it when she starts."

      There was a time, though sometimes he really wondered if it had been at all
      real, when he'd had a lot of disposable income. Not that he'd ever used it
      for anything other than his less civilized pursuits, but still. Now he
      carried around a mental calculator in his head, constantly toting up
      columns of numbers with the label Marie just above them. Jamie could talk
      until she was blue in the fucking face that she had plenty of money--Marie
      was his responsibility and he'd be damned if anyone else would pay to
      support her. He suspected Jamie understood his reasons better than he did,
      if that steady amused gaze he got the last time he went back was anything
      to go by.

      He also knew Jamie worked with him to make sure Marie never had a single
      clue exactly how much he paid and what he did to get the money. Depending
      on Marie's retention of his memories, of course, a thing neither he nor
      Jamie were exactly clear on. Which he had to hope wasn't too much.

      Another thought occurred to him. "That yoda idiot you called in--"

      "Yoga, Logan. Yoda is a character from Star Wars."

      He dismissed the correction. "He get somewhere with her?"

      Another pause.

      "She's inside now. You wanna ask her yourself?"

      That stopped him for a moment, glancing at the closed door, listening to
      the sounds of--Jessica, got it in one--sleeping. Took in the even
      breathing--yeah, it was fine.


      How the whole phone obsession had started, he had no idea. Simple,
      though--just called to check on how Marie was adjusting, ended up popping
      quarters in a Seattle payphone while Marie told him about how high the snow
      was and the blizzard that'd almost knocked out the electricity and Jamie
      locking herself in the cellar by accident. And it'd scared him badly, when
      he checked his watch and realized he'd stood in relative contentment at a
      payphone during a fucking rainstorm of all things, boots sinking into the
      mud, for almost seventy minutes talking to a kid he barely knew, a girl who
      knew him far too well for his own peace of mind.

      It'd been two weeks before he'd broke again, and sitting on the side of the
      road listening to Marie chatter, he decided, with perfect logic, that he
      should probably call once a week, just to check and make sure they were
      okay. Two months later, he had a phone card and a monthly bill that was
      suspiciously high, and no, it wasn't from calling for pizza deliveries.

      He heard Jamie's voice call for Marie--still Rogue to Jamie, he wondered if
      she'd told Jamie her real name yet--and the frantic pounding of feet across
      wood and carpet. He winced at the sound of her tripping over something,
      then the burst of profanity that made him raise his eyebrows.

      "That little touch she had with you has definitely lasted," Jamie said,
      deadpan. "You'd be surprised."

      He supposed so--he'd been back twice in the last six months and both times
      had to admit he'd been quietly amused to see some of his personality
      grafted onto her. The unmistakable sound of someone getting up, another
      quick movement of feet, a soft slide on bare wood, and the phone exchanged
      hands. He could hear her heavy breathing--excitement and exertion, and
      just beneath it, the sound of metal sliding against bare skin--she was
      wearing the tags. Never did it when he saw her in person, but according to
      Jamie, every second when he wasn't there.

      And he was *not* prepared to think about that too much, especially the
      feeling he got that she held something of his so sacred or the many, many
      things it could mean. Bad thoughts. One does not lust after kids, no
      matter how jaded one's life has become.

      "Logan?" Breathless. He felt his body relax against the wall, grinning at
      the sound of her. Shit, that wasn't very Logan-like. His bookie would be

      "Hey, kid."

      "How ya doing?" she asked, and he heard the sound of a chair being pulled
      out, the rustle of her clothes as she settled into the seat, her breathing
      slowly settling into normal. The sound of the metal sliding against her
      skin, imagery he exiled from his mind the instant it snuck in to make an
      appearance. "Everything okay?"

      "Fine. Jamie says you're gonna graduate."

      That chain wasn't very long, he mused. Probably rested just above her bra
      line. Maybe a little lower.

      {Shut up.}

      "Yeah." A pause, then her voice changed, just for him, the lightest edge
      of a drawl. "Thanks for the jacket and the other stuff. It fits
      perfect--I love it." He heard her settling her feet on the desk--she
      wanted conversation. No surprise. Logan moved the phone a few inches
      closer and snagged a towel to brace behind his back. This wasn't macho,
      but hell, who'd see him?

      That jacket. He'd never in a thousand years be able to explain why he'd
      found himself wandering through downtown Austin, utterly fascinated by a
      remarkably expensive leather jacket in the window. Dropping a thousand
      cash on the counter, he'd looked over the three saleswomen--who looked
      damned nervous, making this very odd exercise sort of fun--and got one who
      resembled Marie's general figure to pick out the appropriate size. He
      remembered running his hands over it though--butter soft, black, would
      easily reach her ankles--she liked full body covering whenever possible.

      The saleswoman had been very helpful and one of the more interesting
      evenings of his life when you got beneath the silk dress she'd dropped on
      the floor of the motel he'd been staying at. But that wasn't an anecdote
      he thought Marie would appreciate.

      "It was nothin'. You having fun skiing?"

      A little growl, that surprised him into chuckling, and she giggled. In his
      mind, could see her flush of embarrassment, the way her head would tilt a
      little, and he would bet she was twisting a strand of hair around two of
      her fingers.

      "Sorry. Jamie always jumps when I do that. It's okay--the skiing I mean."
      The lack of enthusiasm was obvious, and he heard Jamie laughing in the

      "I never got the hang of it either. Downhill is more fun."

      "Jamie said she won't touch a slope for her life. Hey, that's what you
      said!" Directed to Jamie, he guessed, hearing Jamie's voice protesting.
      Cradling the phone under one ear, he reached out to find the beer he'd left
      by the door.

      "I'll show you--Jamie is remembering a spring in Colorado. Ask her 'bout
      it sometime."

      A breathy pause, then he heard her breathe out sharply. Stocking up her
      courage. He took a drink, waiting for her to ask. He had a pretty good
      idea what she wanted.

      "Logan--" she was struggling and he let her, guessing what it was she
      wanted to ask. "I'm uh--my birthday is next week. I know you're busy and

      Busy? He wondered if what he did actually qualified as busy. It was an
      interesting thought.


      "Next Monday." She was quick, a little desperate. Like she thought he'd
      deny the only thing so far she'd ever asked him to do. Logan did some
      quick calculations and, yes, he could easily be back in Calgary in six

      "I'll be there."

      Though he couldn't see it, he knew she was smiling in relief.

      "So how's it going with yoda--"

      "It's yoga, Logan. Yoda is--"

      "Whatever. How do you like it?"

      He could hear the sound of her running her fingers absently through her

      "I can manage three positions so far and he's showing me some other
      stuff--didja know he was a mutant?"

      Jamie had said something about that--he'd run the background check on the
      guy with the help of a former FBI agent while in Atlantic City several
      months ago. Which had confused the hell out of anyone who knew him even
      vaguely, but reputation preceded him and they supposed he was out to kill
      the guy or something and left the entire why issue very much alone. Good
      for them.


      "Anyway, I can control it, for a little while. Sometimes." The sounds of
      a phone being shifted from one ear to another. "It's hard, but he says
      it's going pretty well." Her voice became mischievous. "I don't guess
      Jamie told you what happened to her when she tried to teach me to

      An hour later--an hour? shit, he was losing it--he heard Jamie call her to
      start dinner, and reluctantly, she said her good-byes, handing the phone
      over to Jamie at his request. First question--

      "What the hell does she want for her birthday?" This was a point of
      serious consideration--picking up random items was all well and good, but
      Logan was having some serious second thoughts about what was appropriate
      for a birthday gift.

      Oddly enough, the first thing that had popped into his mind was underwear,
      at which point he knew his judgement was not to be trusted.

      Jamie chuckled and he listened to her pull out Marie's chair, taking a

      "Just you, honey." He growled and she laughed into the phone. "I don't
      know. Clothes. Jewelry. Girl stuff."

      God, jewelry. They'd shoot him on general principle if he tried to go into
      one of those stores. Logan didn't even think of girl stuff. He had

      "You live with her. Gimme somethin' to work with here, darlin'."

      "Probably Cuban cigars--she picked up a taste for them--goes outside and
      smokes when she's under stress."

      Logan put down his beer, settling back on the cool tile, every instinct
      coming alert.


      Apparently, Jamie realized what she'd said and sighed softly. "Logan--"

      "What's wrong?"


      "Don't fuck around with me, Jamie. What the hell is wrong?"

      A long pause, and he heard the sounds of her fidgeting, finally settling
      down and he took a breath to calm himself before he started yelling, waking
      up Donn---shit, Jessica--from sleep. Which he didn't want to do right now.

      "I'm not sure. She won't talk to me about it--denies there's anything
      wrong, which is perfectly natural. So it could be anything. But she's
      restless, a little lonely I think, I can see that much. She needs to be
      doing something--she's not happy idle."

      Logan had actually considered that, over the last six months, watching her,
      and had to agree with her assessment. The need to move--he'd picked her up
      doing that. Problem was, he had no idea how to accomplish it--she was way
      too young for him to bring her along on his little excursions, and besides
      that, he didn't want her exposed to that sort of thing anyway. Not that
      her time alone before had been all that great either, but the principle was
      the same.

      And hell, what would he do with her anyway? There were *alot* of pleasant
      possibilities he just wasn't ready to deal with yet, and she sure as hell
      wouldn't be--or worse, and it was enough to give him a set of shudders, she
      might consider it payback for his help and God, that was the last thing on
      his mind. The very last thing he ever wanted her to think.

      He didn't want anyone on those terms.

      "There's--there's a school--"

      "No." Logan straightened against the titles, and there it went again, the
      little alarms that went off at the very thought of Marie going anywhere or
      doing anything without his presence. "I've heard of it, too. And no, not a
      chance in hell."


      "She touches foot in America alone, God knows what will happen to her. She
      can't pass worth a damn and we both know she'll give it away the second
      someone touches her by accident. Hell, she still winces from you, and you
      live with her."

      A long silence and Logan wished desperately for a cigar. Picking up his
      beer, he took a long drink, considering his options, remembering coming
      across that particular bit of information about a school a few weeks
      before, knowing that Jamie would find it out as well. Trying to decide
      whether to go check it out--though since the MRA was still on the table in
      DC, he'd kept carefully close to the Canadian border on his forays into the
      United States recently. He'd heard the rumors of anti-mutant uprisings,
      the mass exodus of mutants and their families into mutant-friendly
      countries like Britain, Canada, and into South America.

      Which more than once had definitely caught his interest--for some reason,
      and right now he didn't try to define why, Brazil sounded damned good.

      The last thing he needed was to be caught up in the anti-mutant
      hysteria--not when he had to worry about what would happen to Marie if he
      disappeared. And God, Marie herself--he shook his head, dispelling the
      nasty image. School, whatever, it was in the same county that wanted to
      force mutants to register and carry identification cards. And the rumors
      about the disappearance of children with more powerful abilities had
      reached him pretty easy. Marie would qualify big time. No question. And
      Logan, who'd never trusted anything resembling government, had some
      suspicions on what they'd do with a girl who could kill with a touch--after
      all, he had a pretty good idea what they did with regenerative mutants.
      That was his newest nightmare he'd never shared with anyone, imagining all
      the nasty things that could happen to her if she was taken.

      No fucking way.

      "I'll talk to Marie about it," he told Jamie finally, knowing how she'd

      "Talk about it?" The frustration seemed to reach through the phone at him,
      as if with voice alone she could shake him into her way of thinking. "You
      tell Marie that you don't think it's a good idea, she'll nod and agree just
      dandy. And you know it. Don't pull that shit with me, Logan."

      That silenced him briefly. Because, yeah, she was right, and yeah, it was
      something he counted on.


      "Never mind." He could feel her resignation. "It's not important. You
      comin' for her birthday?"

      "Yeah." He paused, then relaxed against the tiles--having one of those
      blinding flashes of inspiration that always left him feeling a little high
      and grinning, no matter how unmanly it really was to get such a kick out of
      making Marie smile. "How much cold weather gear do you have?"

      And Jamie's answer.


      Ten minutes later, preliminary arrangements complete, he finished his beer
      and was hanging up the phone when Jessica knocked on the door and Logan
      levered himself up to open it Brown eyes--pretty eyes, reminded him of
      Marie, though Marie had never looked like this, never had that edge of
      cynicism, of someone used to being used.

      "Who ya talkin' to?" she asked. Logan took in the long body encased in a
      t-shirt, the flush of skin across her cheeks. The fact he knew she wasn't
      wearing underwear, just by smell.

      "Little sister," he answered, standing up and scooping her off the floor
      and sitting her on the sink, bracing a hand on either side of her hips.
      "Any reason ya askin'?"

      A slow smile and one arm went around his back as she braced herself on the
      cool marble.

      "Just bored, all alone in there." She ran a finger down his face and he
      caught it between his teeth, watching her eyes dilate. Took a step so he
      was settled between her thighs, hearing the rush of her breath, brown eyes
      closing slowly.

      "I can fix that."

      * * * * *


      --Hi, My Name Is Jenn, and I have Serious Issues with Marie wearing gloves
      to bed. On Principle.--Sare on "Evil Plot Bunny #1: The Evil Sare
      Tortures Jenn Via AIM One Night"

      --Yeah, it's like being in love with hospital gravy.--Nacey on Jean's

      --Sentinels--the anti-mutant groups' wet dream--as defined by Siale
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