FIC: Turning Toward Home (1/1) (L/R) PG-13
- Title: Turning Toward Home
Author: Victoria P. (vicpusateri@...)
Disclaimer: The characters are owned by Marvel and/or Fox. I do not
own them, nor do I make any profit from using them.
Rating: PG13 there's an almost naughty situation
Summary: Logan decides to go back to New York. Prequel to "Enough
Archive: List archive; Kielle's site if she wants it. Anyone
else, just ask first I'm sure I'd say yes. If I've said
yes already, have at it.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Notes: Thanks again to Dot, Jen, Meg and Pete
Turning Toward Home
1. The Decision
He'd been away from Xavier's Academy for close to two years.
He had rescued the kid, Marie thinking of her, his lips quirked
unconsciously into a grin then left her in the competent hands
of Professor Charles Xavier and his merry band of X-Men and run as far
and as fast as possible from the first place he'd felt at home in
He hadn't called, hadn't written. He'd left the kid his
dogtags and a promise to come back for them. Then he'd lit out of
there, frightened yeah, tough guy, you're frightened, he
thought by a slip of a girl with two white locks of hair
face, and skin that could kill with a simple touch.
It wasn't her mutation that scared him. Hell, a man with a metal
skeleton and nine-inch retractable claws was in no position to fear
or judge anyone else's eccentricities. No, it was his reaction to
her soft brown eyes and sweet voice that scared him to death.
They'd bonded, and he was left with the impression, deep in his
unbreakable bones, that she was his. But she was a kid there
trouble. When Jean had told him Marie was taken with him, he'd
brushed it aside. She was a kid, he'd saved her life, she'd
get over it. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, he thought, some day
I'll believe it.
But then he'd recall their conversation on the train. He was in
her head, she said, after she'd touched him. And because of the
damn fool chivalrous feelings she'd awakened, he promised to take
of her. While there wasn't too much he was sure of about himself
his past, he was absolutely sure he was a man of his word.
So when she looked at him and told him she didn't want him to
leave, he handed over his dogtags his prize possession, a link
to his lost past and promised he'd come back for them. He
realized now that he'd promised he would come back for her. And
he proceeded to disappear from her life.
But lately, her face had appeared in his dreams. He'd dreaded
sleep for a long time. The nightmares of what had been done to him
were a harsh and constant companion, but since he'd touched her
the second time (I've touched her twice and lived, he thought,
proud. No one else can say that.) their severity had lessened. He was
able to occasionally get a decent night's sleep. He didn't
question it, just accepted whatever small mercies the universe gave.
Until he started dreaming about her. And not fatherly-type dreams,
either. So he wondered, two years after leaving her, if *he* would
get over it. After what happened last night, he didn't think so.
He'd been sitting at the bar, minding his own business, when the
woman walked in. She wasn't anything spectacular to look at, but
she was willing. He could tell she was checking him out. Women did.
He wasn't conceited, he just knew he'd never had to work hard
to get a woman he really wanted, and that confidence seemed to
attract them even more.
She made the first move. She sat down next to him, even though there
was a row of empty seats along the bar. Her shoulder brushed his as
she removed her coat. "My hands are so cold," she said
softly. "I thought we were done with snow this spring." He
shrugged, not particularly interested until he noticed she hadn't
removed her gloves.
They weren't typical woolly winter mittens. They were suede and
they hugged her arms to a point just below her elbows. He found them
curiously arousing. He made some inane comment about the weather. It
really didn't matter. The deal was sealed. She chattered on about
meaningless things for a couple of hours how her boyfriend was
a trucker who'd brought her to this godforsaken, frozen country
and then left her for another woman, and she was going home to
Burbank as soon as she had the money. He nodded and made sympathetic
noises at the right time, but mostly he focused on what she would
look like in nothing but the gloves.
Finally, the conversation petered out. He paid their tab and
said, "I've got a room at the Motel 6." She followed him
there. He barely got the door open and then there was the soft, wet
heat of her mouth on his. She shed her coat quickly, but he stopped
her from taking the gloves off. "Leave them on," he said
hoarsely, trailing kisses down her neck as he unbuttoned her blouse.
She removed his shirt, running her hands over his shoulders and
chest. The suede felt good, a little rough, against his skin. Her
mouth soon followed, dropping kisses along his stomach. She dropped
to her knees and unzipped his pants. He threaded his hands through
her hair and whispered, "Marie."
Things cooled off pretty quickly. She stomped out of the room, half-
dressed, muttering, "My name is RuthAnn."
He sat with his head cradled in his hands, jeans still undone,
thinking. While part of him was disgusted that he'd been having
those kinds of thoughts about the kid, another part acknowledged that
yeah, he'd been having those kinds of thoughts about her for a
while. And now it was time to do something about it.
It was then, in a run down motel in Saskatchewan, that he decided to
go back to New York, back to Marie, and see if he couldn't settle
this thing, whatever it was, once and for all.
2. The Return
He arrived at the school at about 3 am. The gates slid open smoothly
for him. He parked the trailer he'd managed to pick up along the
way. He loved Cyke's bike, but sometimes a man needs a little more
space. As he approached, the door opened and there was Jean Grey. She
was still dressed, wearing her customary red, of course, so he
figured they were expecting him.
"Hi, Jean," he said, as if he had been away for a weekend
instead of a couple of years. "Still got a room for me?"
She smiled at him. "Welcome back," she said, embracing him.
"You'll always have a room here."
He inhaled her scent and enjoyed the feel of her body against him,
but she drew back quickly. He noticed the ring on her left hand.
"So he finally had the balls to ask, eh?" he said roughly,
thinking, damn, but also, good. He preferred to have the rules laid
out, and the ring told him exactly where he stood. She
laughed. "Congratulations," he grumbled, and she laughed
again. "How's Marie?"
The abrupt change in subject obviously startled her. Good, he
thought, she's not rooting around in my head.
She recovered quickly. "Rogue is fine. She's doing well in
all her classes, and she even has a boyfriend." His whole body
tensed at that, and he felt a sudden urge to extend his claws.
"A boyfriend?" he growled.
Jean nodded. "It's very cute. Of course, she never gave up
hope that you'd come back, even after the rest of us did."
"She's not old enough to have a boyfriend," he said,
trying to get his feelings under control. "I'm surprised
ol' One-Eye allows it."
Jean looked askance at him. "She's seventeen, Logan.
She'll be going to college next year."
Seventeen. He growled again. He knew what seventeen-year-old boys
wanted from girls. This time the claws were out before he even
thought to stop them. He grimaced. Jean raised an eyebrow, but made
no comment. He retracted the claws and, after she'd led him to
his room, thanked her for the hospitality.
"Oh, Professor Xavier knew you were on the way, so it was no
trouble making sure the room was made up," she said.
"Breakfast starts at seven. Will we see you there?"
He shrugged. Being surrounded by noisy teenagers first thing in the
morning was not his idea of a good time. He hated teenagers, which
only made his situation more ironic. Jean wished him good night and
She's seventeen, he thought, and she has a boyfriend. Both were
unexpected developments, though he supposed he'd known,
objectively, that she wouldn't stay fifteen forever. But he
hadn't imagined she'd find a boyfriend, though she was a
girl. He decided he would check the boy out, make sure he was keeping
his hands to himself and that he treated Marie respectfully. If he
didn't, the kid would get a quick and pointed lesson on how to
treat a lady. Then he would head out on the road again, obligation
Telling himself he was satisfied with that, he went to bed.