Wicked Game

disclaimer: I don't own the x-men...

note: all mistakes are mine (sorry if I'm wavering between past and present tense ... this hasn't been beta'd at all)

it's getting angsty ... and a bit mushy... in a way *s*


~*~*~*~*~*~
A couple of days later....


Ororo opened the door as quietly as she could, and pushed the wheelchair ahead of her into the darkened room. It was silent except for faint noises made by Logan breathing. He was lying in bed, hooked up to various machines and devices, with tubes and band aids everywhere it seemed, and had been for the last couple of days. It still freaked her out that he, of all people could be confined to bed like that. He wasn’t supposed to stay injured, or be sick, or even have the need for heavy painkillers. It was all too weird.

Closing the door behind her, Ororo paused and put a hand on Rogue’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right here honey, you go and see if he’s awake. It looks scary, I know, but he’s a fighter. Okay?” she murmured.

Rogue nodded and got up from the wheelchair. She felt shaky, a bit queasy and weak in the knees, but well enough to walk over to Logan’s bed. Stopping beside it, she sat down carefully. The movement caused him to stir and moan in his sleep. Logan was naked from the waist up, sweat beaded on his face and chest. Looking down at him made her miserable - he was supposed to be literary immortal. On the bed stand she found a cloth and a bowl of water. If she couldn’t touch him, she could help him recover, or at least feel a little bit better. Carefully she placed the soaked cloth on his forehead. He stirred in his sleep, groaning as if in pain. Rogue slowly dabbed his chest and neck, and watched as goose bumps appeared all over the tanned skin. Suddenly he drew breath and tried to jerk away. He turned his head, frowning.

“I know that scent”, he said hoarsely and opened his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Ah’m Rogue”, she said cautiously.

Logan seemed to struggle for air, or words, she couldn’t really tell which.

“And what kind of name is that?”

“I dunno … what kind of a name is Wolverine?” She smiled, relieved and glad that he seemed to be getting back to his old self. Making jokes to ease the pain was a lot like Logan, she thought.

“What? Something wrong?”

“Nothing … you …” She felt the smile widen.

He frowned at her. “What? Speak up kiddo.”

“Ah can’t tell ya how relieved Ah am to hear ya say that again.”

Logan gave a laugh and ended up coughing. “Oh really? I thought you hated that nickname.”

“You know Ah almost killed ya …”

“No, now you know that isn’t true.”

Rogue lowered her eyes, and stared at her hands. “It feels like déjà vu all over again, doesn’t it? Ah’m so sorry, Logan. Ah’m sorry … You know, Ah hate what Ah am, Ah hate it so much, Ah …” She let the words trail off.

With some effort Logan pulled the cover up to his chin. “C’mere”, he said and motioned for her to lie down beside him. “See, it’s safe, you can rest, without worrying whether ye’re gonna drain me or not.”

Hesitating for a moment, she didn’t think Logan was aware of Ororo’s presence. But as Rogue glanced past her shoulder towards the door, she found that Ororo had left.

“You must be on some heavy drugs …”, she said quietly, feeling insecure. Somehow it seemed like the tables had turned, every time they talked she was the one hurting, pulling away from all sorts of contact. Part of her wanted to rush for the door. And now … he still tried to reach out to her. “What do you want from me, Logan?”

He opened his mouth as if to answer but seemed to change his mind about what. Something flashed behind his eyes though, still his features were soft, in all its roughness they usually displayed, soft and tired.

“Just lie down, Rogue, I want some company”, he mumbled drowsily.

She curled up next to him, rested her head on his shoulder. This close she could hear his heart beat, something to draw strength and comfort from. It should’ve felt awkward, she’d not really allowed herself to imagine what it must be like, sharing a bed with Logan. She toyed with the chain around her neck, tracing the edges and surface of the metal plate attached to it. 458 25 243 WOLVERINE. She knew the numbers by heart. The dog tag had belonged to him once, and he’d given it to her years ago, shortly after the incident at Liberty Island. It wasn’t shiny and expensive, but she couldn’t imagine getting rid of it, not for any amount of money. Not everyone liked that she wore it. Kitty and Jubilee didn’t, and Bobby certainly didn’t. She didn’t care. It wasn’t a beautifully handcrafted piece, but it had belonged to Logan, and they shared at least one thing, a past they were trying to embrace.

By the sound of Logan’s breathing she could tell that he was almost asleep, and yet he kept mumbling like he already was. Rogue tried not to look at all the tubes and band aids. Stitches, now that was weird, seeing him stitched up like a normal human being. It was her fault, her fault alone that he was still in such a bad shape. It was her fault that he healed so slowly. It added to her own feelings of already being an outsider, the source of disaster and evil. She felt her eyes sting but she wasn’t gonna cry, no, not here like this. Alone maybe, but not in front of Logan. She could feel the warmth of his naked arm through the fabric of the robe she was wearing. He didn’t exactly cradle her but was close enough for them to touch.

“… flowers …”, he murmured.

Rogue felt his breath on her hair as he spoke, his fingers tangled in it. Logan had the scent of something wild, free, very masculine – and it made her feel safe because she knew he’d never harm her. If it hadn’t been for him, she would’ve died at Liberty Island. The thought was frightening enough for her to close her eyes. Sleep took her moments later.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Was it a dream, or reality? Everything seemed to move in slow motion, in a blur of shadows and light, making it hard for him to tell where one thing began and another ended. It seemed … surreal, for lack of a better word. He was feverish, sweating and shivering at the same time, but he also felt a numbness and dizziness that could only be because of the painkillers they’d given him. They? Even his mind appeared to operate in slow motion.

Logan was suddenly aware of another presence in the room – he could smell flowers. Rogue? Turning his head he found that he wasn’t alone in the bed, she lay curled up against him, covered from head to toes in that white satin robe he’d seen her in before. In the dim light of the room the white streaks in her hair gleamed like bones, floating down her face. Her breathing seemed irregular and shallow, and she whimpered in her sleep. Nightmares, Logan thought and tried to say her name, but his mouth was too dry for that. God but he was thirsty. He wondered how long he’d been confined to bed, when the hell he was gonna feel well enough to get up, and he wondered how long Rogue had been there. How long? Probably too long.

Images of Rogue flashed through his mind, of her sitting on the side of the bed, smiling. Happy, he recalled, she’d looked ill, but happy. Rogue – happy, that was something new. It had been a long time since that. She rarely smiled and made it sincere, he could almost name the few occasions where it had been genuine, where she’d, without thinking, dropped those shields she otherwise guarded so closely. A memory resurfaced, of Rogue rushing to meet him when he’d returned to the school after being on the road, searching for clues to his past. Wolverine’s past, Logan’s past, their future. He remembered her hugging him, happiness written all over her face, and those brown eyes had sparkled with sheer joy. He also remembered her introducing her boyfriend, Bobby a.k.a Iceman, and showing off the ‘new and improved’ Rogue, as she’d referred to herself as, wearing something that he was more used to see Ororo Munroe in. But she’d looked great in all that skin tight leather and matching high heeled boots. When he’d told her so, she’d looked delighted, pleased in a catlike way. He had pleased her, and it had felt good to see her smile, to see the smile reach her eyes. He had felt her happiness.

She had wanted him to stay, and he’d left the school, with a promise to return. But somehow, everything had gone wrong after that, Rogue had been forced to work together with Magneto when there was a mutual enemy. Logan hoped that Stryker’s death had been slow and painful. Too bad he hadn’t been there personally to witness it. But he was glad the bastard was dead and the hell hole at Alkali Lake had been destroyed. Then there were the issues concerning Cyclops and Jean, it had become all too complicated for him to even begin to understand how things had turned out the way they had …

Logan groaned and tried to move, and caused Rogue to shift in her sleep. She radiated body heat. It smelled like fever to Wolverine. Clearing his throat he managed to call her name, soft and mellow, but it wasn’t until he gently touched her shoulder that she reacted. A loud gasp followed by a hoarse “Nooo …” Logan knew she was crying.

“What’s the matter, Rogue?” he asked softly.

More sobbing and whimpering. Logan was unsure about what to do, he wasn’t that experienced at comforting people, and he’d never been in bed doing it. It wasn’t that he’d never been in bed with a woman crying, if she was it usually was his name.

“No …”

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing”, she whispered, covering her face with her hands.

“Now you know I don’t believe that”, he murmured, and stroked her hair. It was soft and had a silky feeling to it.

Another attack. Oh dear, he thought, trying to think of something to say. But what did you say to a sobbing Rogue? He’d never seen her like this, she’d always struck him as a woman with a tight grip on her emotions and features, and breaking down like this just wasn’t Rogue.

“Wanna tell me what it was about?”

“No, Ah can’t.”

“Was it that bad?” He could feel her hesitate.

“Yes.”

“You know, talkin’ about it usually makes ye feel better.”

“But it was so awful, Ah can’t tell ya … Ah … there are things about me ya don’t know, that no one knows about.”

“I’m here if ye wanna talk, it’s not like I’ll be leaving any time soon.”

They were silent for a while, Logan tried not to rush her because he could feel her preparing herself and he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“He … they did something to me.”

Logan felt himself hesitate, holding a breath. “Rogue, sweetheart … please tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are.”

“Ah … he had a gun and … Ah … Ah was so scared, and then they tied me up … oh god …”

Logan pulled her closer to him. He was suddenly so angry, he shivered with rage. She had been used.

“Would you recognize ‘em today?” he heard himself say, voice blank.

“Ah don’t know … maybe … why?”

“If they are alive, then they won’t be when I’m done with them.”

“No, Logan … it was a long time ago, before Ah met ya, and Ah don’t wanna think about it again. Please, Ah don’t wanna remember, please”, she begged and snivelled.

“Have you … does Ro know? I mean, you two are close, right? Have you told her?”

“No, you’re the only one Ah’ve evah told. No one else.”

“Rogue, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do … you know I’ll do anything for ye, just tell me what and I’ll do it.”

“But you can’t go off slaughtering people … you’d … damnit Logan, it’s just too dangerous and –“

Logan used his other hand to tip her face up to meet his. He felt something soften inside of him, she seemed so fragile, and Rogue being fragile … that wasn’t like her.

“Just tell me this one time, that you believe me when I say that I would do anything for you, Marie”, he said very softly, and hoped he looked all serious, almost careful.

She put a hand over his and leaned into his touch.

“Yes”, she said quietly.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Ah believe ya, Logan.”

He smiled and rested his chin against her head. “That’s my girl”, he murmured.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me one thing.”

“Sure …”

“Don’t change it, ever.”

“Change what?”

Rogue made a small gesture towards him.

Logan grinned, pleased to sense her appreciation of him. “Oh you mean my looks?”

“Mm-hm, you wouldn’t be Wolverine, or Logan, without that … well … pointy sorta hairdo”, she said smiling up at him. “And Ah kinda like unruly hair like yours.”

“Then I guess I’ll die like this when I’m old, grey and wrinkled.”

Rogue giggled at the image he’d just painted for her.

“Yeah, Grandpa Logan, that would be something.”

He chuckled, relieved that she seemed to be feeling better. He wondered what to do about the information she’d shared though, she had confided in him and he felt sort of responsible for her.

“Rogue, I truly am so sorry for what happened, if I could help you undo it … “

“Ah know …”

He hesitated before he spoke. “It can be different, you know … It can be what it’s supposed to be. Something special.”

She sighed, as if to brace herself. “Ah know, and that’s what makes it even worse …”

“How?”

“One of them he … he passed out during the … and then another … until one of them … he … he used …”

“Oh, Christ Rogue, no you don’t have to tell me, I think I understand what you mean. Hush now, sweetheart,” he kept stroking her hair, breathing in her scent, “you don’t have to tell me.” He held her tight against his body, and let her cry. He felt his own eyes sting with rage and sorrow. She’d been raped, the only sexual experience she’d ever had, and might ever have. I will kill them. Kill them. The chances for Rogue to be able to control her power were small, as he’d understood when Xavier and Jean had explained the situation to him. Besides being able to touch someone for a short period of time, she hadn’t shown much improvement.

Rogue was crying silently. The sound of her really got to him.

“It’s okay, darlin’, no one’s gonna hurt you, not as long as I’m around. Now, try to get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”