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FIC: Seasons of Growth Chapter 17

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  • novemberotica
    Title: Seasons of Growth Chapter 17: Gotta Launder My Karma Author: November Tuesday Email: novemberotica@yahoo.com Rating: Here there be naughty words. Lots
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 7, 2003
      Title: Seasons of Growth
      Chapter 17: Gotta Launder My Karma

      Author: November Tuesday

      Email: novemberotica@...

      Rating: Here there be naughty words. Lots of `em.

      Summary: Logan is not a happy camper.

      Continuity: Series begins 3 years after X1.

      Disclaimer: Marvel, Fox, Brian Singer yadda yadda yaddaÂ…

      Archive: Sure, and if it's someplace other than list archives, please
      let me know.

      Feedback: is part of this complete breakfast.

      "Gotta launder my karma..."
      --Lo Fidelity Allstars

      Logan paced behind the mansion until a path was formed in the snow.

      ~Logan, welcome back. Please come to my suite and I'll put you out of
      your misery.~

      "The fuck?" He growled into the wintry air.

      Logan came into the suite, still in his coat. "Charles." He nodded

      "There are some things you should know."

      "I noticed."

      "Logan, while you were gone Rogue grew up."

      Clearly, he thought, clenching his jaw.

      "They were on a mission about this time last year."

      Mission? Marie going out on missions?

      "They found a three year old girl behind a dumpster in Philadelphia.
      She was abandoned by her parents when they discovered she was a
      mutant. She had been starved and beaten. We brought her back. This
      summer Rogue adopted her. She is Rogue's daughter."

      "Marie's a baby herself-"

      "When you spend more time with her Logan, you'll see that that isn't

      Logan was silent. He hadn't slept in two days and felt like shredding
      something, julienne style.

      "Logan, I know that your intentions toward her are good but there are
      some things you must understand."

      "How do you know what my intentions-"

      "There is a difference between using one's telepathy to read someone
      else's mind and having loud thoughts projected to you. Amid the...
      many expletives you were projecting it's easy to sense your feelings
      for her. I didn't make any choice to hear you, in fact, your
      projecting woke me out of a fairly deep sleep."

      "Sorry." He looked at his hands.

      "Logan, I want you to understand- you were gone for five years.
      Rogue, aside from missing you deeply, felt abandoned and betrayed. I
      don't believe she has seriously dated anyone but she has been
      intensely lonely. So don't expect her to necessarily accept you with
      open arms."

      Logan was quiet, but again his thoughts were clear as day to the

      "She does love you Logan, just give her time to trust you too."

      He nodded silently.

      "Welcome back. Will you be staying with us?"

      Logan did not hesitate. "Yes."

      Upstairs in her room, Marie was sitting with her knees to her chest,

      She'd been so cocky. It was so easy on the phone. Act like a badass
      and he'd fall at her feet. But she couldn't hold up in the face of
      him, in front of him. He was every bit of baggage her heart had ever
      carried, in carnal form, tight jeans, metal, and leather.

      That phone conversation had bred the worst thing of all in her heart:
      hope. She had hoped he'd changed. She had hoped he would be come back
      and be something solid. He seemed genuinely sorry for being
      incommunicado for all those years. She had thought, maybe, he was
      worthy of her respect.

      And then, he set eyes on Maggie, and pulled this stupid shit. And now
      she had no idea who he was.

      She was stupid to hope. Because now, she wanted him so much. She knew
      she could have him. She could walk out her door and upstairs and open
      his door and scream at him until he threw her up against a wall and-

      Sleep, Rogue, she told herself.

      Downstairs, he wrote.

      He had kept a journal as far back as he could remember. It was a
      pneumonic security blanket of sorts. Waking up in the snow naked,
      knowing nothing, was a terror he never wanted to relive. The
      hardbound journal helped him preserve his memories, the dream-flashes
      he could remember. He tried on paper to knit them together for years,
      and always when the puzzle was assembled, it was the same picture:

      No memories of a life before, no memories that weren't full of pain.
      Some days he felt that he was merely a construct of his captors,
      groomed, enhanced, and composed of only torture and pain. Nothing
      else. Those days he would write about new memories, about the sunset
      or the beauty of the wilderness or the desert, of his few
      friendships. At times he wrote for pages about a single tree or sky
      or flower, describing in minute heightened detail, scents, textures,
      color and light. It accomplished nothing, but heightened the illusion
      that there was something other than pain.

      And, sometimes, his words were self-flagellation. Usually it was
      undeserved. Today it was.

      October 20, 2003

      I've gone and fucked up big time. I was afraid to come back and now I
      think I know why. I think I was kidding myself and it had nothing to
      do with Jean. I saw her today, saw her and Scott in the kitchen and
      it was no big deal. Jeannie's s sweet kid and I'm happy for her. But
      Marie - she's another story.

      Marie has a fucking kid. I left and she was a kid, now she has one.
      How the hell did that happen?

      Of course Chuck tells me that it's not her kid. I'd go crazy over the
      thought of some mug touching her, getting her pregnant. I'm so damn
      jealous and I just don't know what to do with it.

      While I was gone, she turned into this kick-ass, self-assured,
      confident woman. She's an X-man. So sue me, but it's hard to wrap my
      brain around.

      I think the thing she gets to me the most is that she can touch. I
      was at her door talking to her for the first time and five years and
      this kid walks in. Marie scooped her up, natural as could be, and she
      was touching the kid. The last thing I would begrudge her is the
      chance to touch without hurting, god, she deserves it and has waited
      for so long for it. I'm such an asshole. I have no right to feel this
      way, but I feel it anyway. Marie should be touching ME.

      Of course there's no chance of that happening any time soon. First
      damn time I see her, and I act like such a dick. I am so goddamn
      pissed at myself. First I fuck up by not calling for five years, then
      I show up and act that way. You're an asshole, Logan. God, I'm such a
      fuck up.

      Jesus. I'm jealous of a tiny little child. I need a dose of the
      danger room.

      The next chapter is up at novemberotica.com
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