Wicked Game

disclaimer: don't own the x-men


Logan smoothed his face, trying to be calm. He had been that all the way up until now. Standing in front Rogue’s door made him a bit uneasy and it wasn’t just that Ororo had forbidden him to speak to Rogue, it had more to do with himself. There was a tiny, almost invisible, knot forming in his chest, somewhere deep inside he could feel it, and it was growing stronger by the day. He put out the cigar against the palm of his hand, embracing the short, intense pain, as a means to forge the calmness. He was composed, and yet he hesitated before knocking on her door. Besides, the scar healed almost instantly anyway.

“Come in”, he heard her say. He entered and closed the door quietly behind him.

“Rogue, it’s me, Logan”, he said, trying to sound as neutral as he could, while looking at her. She was curled up in a big white armchair by the window, dressed in an equally white satin robe. Her attention was somewhere else, like she was looking at something outside the window. He couldn’t tell, but felt the distance between them, like a huge gap.

“Ah already knew that”, she said quietly, “Why have you come here?” Rogue turned her head to look at him.

He felt his face soften, and something close to distress flowing through him at the sight of her. She seemed so pale and eerie, almost ghostly, that he hardly recognized her. He must have made some kind of sound, because she lowered her eyes, while hugging her knees, so he couldn’t see her face. He crossed the space between them and went to stand at the other side of the window, keeping an eye on several things at once was a necessity these days. Whatever it was that had held Rogue’s attention, he couldn’t tell. Maybe she had just been daydreaming. Suddenly he felt her looking at him, and he let her, without interrupting. Something was wrong though, something that he just couldn’t figure out what it was, but the feeling grew stronger for every second that passed. He had to say something, but the air was getting too thick for breathing, it was like inhaling through the thinnest of straws.

“Ororo came to see me earlier. She … she sort of gave me a warning saying that I wasn’t to come near you”, he said, staring out the window, as he, at the same time, watched her from the corner of his eye.

“And you’re defying her know.”

“ … Yes.”

There was a brief period of silence, nothing but the soft sound of fabric against fabric, and the sound of a metal chain, clattering, as Rogue shifted in the armchair, resting her cheek on her knees. It was the one thing he had actually given her, that god forsaken piece of adamantium, an old dog tag, the one link to his past. It suddenly seemed ironic in a way, that thing couldn’t help her, it wasn’t even worth any money.

“You shouldn’t”, she said finally.

Logan glanced at her for a while. She’d closed her eyes, resting her head on her knees. The hair fell around her like a dark brown curtain, the white streaks showed where it parted to the crowd. But the actress had gone silent, not wanting to do an encore, he thought, as she opened her eyes to meet his.

“Ororo doesn’t dictate my life”, he said.

“And you don’t dictate mine, but why should you pay attention to that now? Why would you, knowing the risk? Do you even care about me anymore?” She spoke quietly, agitated, like she was struggling for air.

He smoothed a hand across his face, remembering he hadn’t shaved today. Oh hell, like he cared about that now. No. No, no … “It cannot be my fault alone … no, I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want, you have a life so you really shouldn’t worry about it. There’s no need to”, she said and shifted in the big armchair, resting against the back of it.

“You can believe what you want about me too, but know this,” he said firmly, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you.”

She turned her face from him, hair spilling forward, hiding most of it. “Yes, care, what a funny word, coming from you. You’ve made promises like that before, remember?”

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“What?”

“Being cruel”, he said hoarsely, trying to keep the anger from his voice. “You want to hurt me, is that it? Do you hate me so much?” It was hard to stay calm. He wanted to shout at her, hold her, touch the white streaks of her hair, he wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her, he wanted to leave and linger at the same time. It was too close to anguish. He was getting too close to it.

Rogue suddenly looked at him, eyes wide. There was something hidden behind them, like a safely locked away danger. He couldn’t sense anything dangerous about her but her scent was … raw. That was the only word he could think of.

“No, Ah don’t want to hurt you, I’d never do that to you, Logan, nevah.”

“Then why the hell are you acting like this?” He knelt in front of her, making it harder for her to look away.

“Am Ah hurting you?” She kept meeting his gaze, just staring into his eyes, not blinking.

“Yes, you are, believe it or not.”

“Why does it hurt, Logan? You tell me and Ah’ll stop. Ah will stop and you can go back to your life.” It sounded like she had to force the words out of her mouth, striving for the next breath while doing it, and he had to concentrate to catch all of it.

“It’s hurting me to see you like this, knowing that I’m responsible for it,” he said carefully, “it hurts like hell knowing you won’t let me try to convince you otherwise, that I do mean business.”

He kept studying her face, trying to pick up on something, but she gave away nothing. Even her scent was weaker than usual, so Wolverine had noticed the moment he entered the room, and now Logan was aware of it too.

“So we’re both hurting”, she finally said, sounding tired. “We’ve had this conversation before, you made your point then, and your choices, so just go … just go.” She tried to hide her face, tried to keep her voice steady and calm, unaffected, but he could tell otherwise.

He reached up to turn her face to him.

“No”, she whispered, and suddenly there was a heavy streak of frantic in her voice.

“Marie … Rogue …” Logan brushed her cheek with his fingertips, barely touching the skin. The coldness of it made the knot inside him grow. There was something wrong, he knew it, and Wolverine certainly knew it. It was like she was trying to shield herself from him.

She rose and tried to push past him. “Ah don’t want you to see me like this”, she said trying to get around him but tripped on the robe and fell to her knees.

Logan caught both of her wrists, for now he was safe since she was wearing those gloves that covered the skin up to the elbows. He forced her close enough to him so that she couldn’t turn away, but the hair fell like a curtain around her. She nearly hunched in his grasp.

“Rogue, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said as sensitively as possible, “just look at me. Please look at me.”

“No ...”

“Sweetheart, please …”

“Ah don’t know if Ah can.”

Wolverine breathed in Rogue’s scent, she smelled of flowers and salt, but the anxiety lay like a heavy blanket above it all, nearly overwhelming him. He already knew before Rogue looked at him, at Logan, that she was crying. Wolverine could taste the salt on his tongue. Her eyes were so wide, filled with fear, insecurity and … the blackness of the void he had gotten a glimpse of a couple of weeks ago. How she could manage he didn’t know, and it was even more of a mystery to Logan.

“Go away, please just leave, Logan. And Ah don’t hate you, how could Ah evah hate you? And how … how can Ah possibly hate you after everything you’ve had to put up with? I’m trying to push you away, yet you are so persistent Ah … Ah don’t know how much more Ah can take … I ...”

“But I won’t do that. I’ll leave now, but it’s only for now, and because you’re telling me to, sweetheart. You, too, can be as persistent as ye like, but I won’t go away”, he said very softly, releasing her and stood. “I’m gonna call Ororo to come check on you, okay? Goodbye Marie.”