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Fic: A Harbor in the Tempest: Act V: 2/7 - R - {L/R, R/B}

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  • victoria p.
    Disclaimers in part 1 *** indicates thoughts *** A Harbor in the Tempest Act V 2. Logan looked at Jubilee. So? We re in pretty good shape, Wolvie. I d
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 27, 2001
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      Disclaimers in part 1


      < > indicates thoughts


      A Harbor in the Tempest
      Act V


      Logan looked at Jubilee. "So?"

      "We're in pretty good shape, Wolvie. I'd say we can stay closed for
      about two weeks, maybe three, before we start to feel it," she said,
      looking over the numbers on the spreadsheet.

      "Maybe we won't have to. Bribes have worked before. In the meantime,
      I'll keep payin' your salaries."

      Jubilee smiled. "Carl will be glad to hear that. I owe him money."

      "You'll finish lockin' up, kid?" he asked, pulling another cigar out of
      his pocket.

      "Yeah. Then I'm going to the --"

      He held up a hand. "Don't tell me where you're goin'. I don't wanna

      She sighed. "I won't."

      He walked to the door that led to the stairs to his aparmennt. He
      paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Be careful, Jubilee."

      She grinned. "Always am, Wolvie. I always am."

      He walked up the stairs, feeling the weight of his metal bones for the
      first time in a long time.

      He stopped in the hallway, frozen, nostrils flared. Opening the door, he
      drawled, "I told you this afternoon you'd come around, but this is even
      quicker than I expected. Have a seat."

      Rogue turned away from the window and walked over to him. "I had to see
      you, Logan."

      "Your unexpected presence isn't by any chance connected to the letters
      of transit, is it? As long as I have those damned things, I guess I'll
      never be lonely."

      "We'll give you anything you want, but you have to give me those
      letters," she said, her voice filled with passion.

      "I already went through this with your husband." He twisted the word,
      made it sound like an epithet. "No deal."

      "I know how you feel about me, but I'm askin' you to put your feelings
      aside for somethin' more important."

      "Do I have to hear about what a great guy the Iceman is again? And what
      an important cause he's fighting for?"

      She put a hand on his arm and looked up into his face, trying to catch
      his eye. "It was your cause too, Logan. In your own way, you were
      fighting for the same thing." She ran her hand over the grooves between
      his knuckles.

      He shook her off and walked to the window. She followed. "Logan, we
      loved each other once. If those days meant anything to you at all --"

      His voice was harsh when he interrupted her. "I wouldn't bring up San
      Francisco if I were you. It's poor salesmanship."

      "Please. Please listen to me. If you knew what really happened, if you
      only knew the truth--"

      He broke in again. "I wouldn't believe you, no matter what you told me.
      You'd say anything now to get what you want." He looked down at his
      hand, surprised to see he was still holding a cigar. He stuck it in his
      mouth, looking in the desk for some matches.

      "You want to feel sorry for yourself, don't you? With so much at stake,
      all you can think about is your own feelings. One woman has hurt you and
      you'll take revenge on the rest of the world. You're, you're a coward
      and a weakling." Her eyes shimmered with tears. She knew she was taking
      a huge risk. If anyone else had uttered those words, the claws would
      have been at their throat. It was proof that he still loved her that she
      wasn't facing them now. "I'm so sorry, Logan. I'm sorry, but you're our
      last hope. If you don't help us, Robert Drake will die in Tijuana."

      "What of it?" he shot back. "I'm going to die in Tijuana. It's a good
      spot for it."

      He turned away and lit the cigar. He heard her shuffling with something.
      When he turned back, he saw Rogue had her left glove off, and a small
      revolver in her right hand. It was pointed directly at him. "All right.
      I tried everything. Now I want those letters. Get them for me."

      "I don't have to get them," he said. "I've got them right here." He
      tapped his pocket.

      "Put them on the table," she ordered.

      "No." He shook his head.

      "For the last time, Logan, put them on the table."

      "If Drake and the cause mean so much to you, you won't stop at
      anything," he replied.

      "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

      "Go ahead and shoot," he said, moving closer to her. "You know it won't
      kill me." He grabbed the hand with the gun and pressed it to his chest.
      "Go on. I'll make it easier for you." He reached out and brushed his
      thumb against her cheek.

      She jerked away, but not before she'd gotten a taste of what he was
      thinking and feeling. The love he had for her was overwhelming; she
      turned and walked away, leaning on his desk for support.

      "Oh, God, Logan," she whispered, crying now. "I tried to stay away. I
      thought I'd never see you again, that you were out of my life." He moved
      behind her and encircled her in his arms, pressing his cheek to the top
      of her head. "The day you left, if you only knew what I went through. If
      you knew how much I loved you, how much I still love you!"

      He pulled her scarf up over her lips and kissed her passionately. Rogue
      felt herself get lost in his embrace, the touch and feel and taste of
      him everything she'd longed for since the first time she'd seen him,
      that long ago day in Laughlin City.

      He carried her over to the couch, his lips leaving hers only long enough
      to trace a path of fire up to her ear and to whisper how much he loved
      her. She returned his kisses and caresses with equal fervor.

      He came to his senses finally when her hand moved to unzip his jeans.
      "Marie," he panted, "we can't. I can't. Not like this."

      "When did you develop morals, Logan?" she whispered. "I want to. I
      want --"

      "You do now, but you'll hate yourself, and me, when you walk back into
      your hotel room and see Bobby later." He sat up and brushed the hair out
      of her eyes before buttoning her blouse with gentle fingers. She ran her
      hand over his, amazed at how tender he could be, even with nine-inch
      metal blades embedded in his arms.

      She swallowed her objections. He was right. "Thank you."

      He slid an arm around her and she rested her head on his chest. "Tell me
      what happened."

      "Bobby and I got married shortly after the mansion was attacked. We
      lived with his parents, and it just seemed -- they were very
      old-fashioned, and well, I loved him. But then he was taken, and it was
      in all the newspapers that he'd been interned. I was frantic, terrified.
      For months I tried to get word. All I knew was that he'd been moved
      west. I followed. Finally, I heard.

      "He was dead. Shot trying to escape. I was lonely. I had nothing. Not
      even hope. Everyone was dead, as far as I knew. Scott, the Professor,
      you -- I had nothing.

      "And then you called my name, and life was worth living again."

      "Why weren't you honest with me? Why keep the marriage a secret?" He
      stroked her back, trying to ease some of her tension.

      "It wasn't my secret to keep, Logan. Bobby insisted. He wanted it that
      way. No one other than his parents knew. He felt it was safer for me
      that way. I knew so much about the work, and if the police or the FBI
      found out I was his wife, it would be dangerous for me and for those
      working with me. Not to mention that he was afraid they'd use me to get
      to him."

      "When did you first find out that he was still alive?"

      "The morning of our last day together. Remember I went to the market? A
      friend came and told me that Bobby was alive. They were hiding him at
      one of the vineyards in Napa. He was sick, he'd been injured, he needed
      me. I wanted to tell you -- both you and Storm -- but I didn't dare. I
      knew you'd have stayed, and you'd have been caught by the FBI. So I...
      well, you know the rest." She sniffed, trying to contain the sobs that
      wanted to escape.

      "Huh. It's still a story without an ending," Logan mused. "What about

      "Now? I don't know. I know that I'll never have the strength to leave
      you again."

      "And Drake?"

      She raised her head to look at him, the tears spilling over silently.
      "You'll help him now, won't you, Logan? You'll make sure he gets out?
      Then he'll have his work -- that's all he lives for. Professor Xavier
      would be so proud."

      "He'll have everything except you."

      "I can't fight it anymore. When you left me that first time, I thought
      my heart would never mend. I ran away from you once and it almost killed
      me. I can't do it again. Oh, I don't know what's right anymore. You'll
      have to think for both of us, Logan. For all of us."

      "All right, darlin'. I will," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

      "I wish I didn't love you so much," she whispered, crawling into his




      "Okay, two words I don't like right off the bat, "tomb" and "unearthed".
      People, you gotta leave your tombs earthed." Cordelia Chase, _Angel_


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