A series by November

Chapter 57: Chicken Soup for the Vigilante Soul

"Logan?" It was January and she was leaving to go to school.

"Hmm?" He looked sleepily up at her. She was wearing his favorite sweater, purple and low cut.

"I know that sometimes you need your space, but if you’d like you’re welcome to move in here."

"Really?"

"Really." She kissed his forehead and left.

That afternoon, her heart pounded as she and Maggie walked down their hall. She opened the door and glanced around but the apartment was just as she’d left it, with the exception of a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen. A pot of chicken soup was slow-cooking. There was a note on the kitchen island.

Went on a mission. Might be two days. X can explain. Did you really mean it this morning? You rocked my world. Hug the Bluebell for me. I made soup. Can’t wait to get home. --L

Marie smiled even as her hair stood on end. She hated missions. Hated that they were necessary and hated especially when he went. And he was hard to kill. She knew how he felt when she was on a mission, that her fear was only a fraction of his panic.

She noticed an arrow at the corner of the page. She flipped the note over and there was a cartoonish drawing of him making a silly face, eyes crossed and tongue out. She laughed, just as he had meant her to.

God, I love that man. She tacked the note to the refrigerator.

With the help of a glass of wine or three she was finally able to sleep. It was interrupted at four thirty that morning by the phone.

"Marie. Turn on MSNBC." It was Rakim, who was more of an insomniac than any of them.

"Oh god no. What?"

"Some shit apparently went down in Hoboken. As far as I know he’s fine. Just turn it on."

Marie ran into the living room and turned on MSNBC. A light projection ~You awake?~ confirmed that Xavier was awake.

~Yes Rogue. They’re all fine, and on their way back.~

She relaxed a bit until the stories about forest fires and an earthquake in Bangladesh rolled, and then she saw Logan’s face and gasped.

"An unknown mutant-rights militia was involved in a convenience store robbery this morning in Hoboken, New Jersey. A man known only as Wolverine reportedly interrupted the attack of Seven-Eleven clerk Miguel Garcia and slashed the attackers with knives extending from his hand. The footage that follows is graphic, viewer discretion is advised. Despite intervention, Garcia died before emergency personnel got to the scene."

"Oh fuck."

The footage wasn’t too graphic, but she knew that select bits would be emblazoned on the American consciousness by noon. There was a very clear shot of the claws coming out. Damage control was one thing. Rogue had no idea how Xavier would handle this.

She pulled her robe tight and shuffled into her slippers. Maggie slept soundly.

"Hey Blue, I’m gonna go downstairs and meet Logan." Maggie mumbled but did not wake, and Marie knew that it had registered somewhere in her sleeping mind.

Xavier was already in the map room. He had poured her a cup of coffee and it was steaming at a seat across from him, a cream and two sugars sitting by it, just the way she liked.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

"What’s their ETA?"

"They’re down there now."

She nodded. "I saw it. There’s damage control, and then there’s damage control."

"It will be okay."

"How do you know?"

"I know the media. I know they’ll only show the bit that suits their purposes. But our people will ensure that the rest of the story is out."

"What is the rest of the story?"

"He interrupted a murder. He killed the assailants. They were beating an unarmed man with a baseball bat. He decapitated them. He tried to stop his bleeding. The man died anyway."

"I suppose they have footage of the decapitation."

"Yes."

"Fuck."

"It’ll be okay, Rogue. We’ll spin it in the right direction. He won’t go to jail. What I’m more worried about is how frail his mental state may be."

"I think we’re the only two who know how fragile he is."

Charles nodded.

She sensed him coming down the hall. She got up, walked down the hall. They all had a bit of a hangdog look, but Logan was nearly catatonic. He was covered in blood.

She walked straight to him and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t respond for a long time. She held him close, not saying a word. Finally, his arms slipped around her.

"C’mere. Debriefing can wait." She pulled him into the locker room. Bobby was there, undressing, and looked a bit startled. Logan let her guide him. She unzipped his uniform top and peeled it off. His torso was red with blood. Its iron scent mingled with his sweat and was pungent.

She undid his pants, peeled them off. Undid his boots. He was naked. She grabbed a fresh towel and lead him to the shower.

Bobby and Carter were there and their talking abruptly stopped. Rogue ignored them and started a stream of water. The steam pervaded the room, the water bouncing off of tile soaked her.

Bobby and Carter glanced covertly at the way she was washing him, something more intimate than sex, and they quickly left. She didn’t even notice that they had been there.

She took first one hand and then the other, rubbing. His knuckles were especially bloody. She massaged there for a few seconds longer than it took to wash it away.

"Lean back love, I’ll do your hair."

He did, like a child he limply allowed her to clean him. She would have thought he was catatonic, but for the sheen of tears in his eyes. The rubbing of her fingers through his hair grounded him, anchored him to reality. It was the only thing.

"Okay, love. Rinse."

He stood there after she had turned the water off, looking around the shower room as if he were looking for something. She wrapped a towel around him and rubbed him dry. She fished his street clothes out of his locker and dressed him like a child. And like a child she delivered him to the map room door. "I’ll be here."

A half hour later Scott left the room to find Rogue sitting outside, hugging her legs to her chest. Her blue bathrobe was splotched with dried blood, and there was some on her cheek. Scott only smiled, in a tired, weary way, glad that she was there for Logan.

When Logan came out she cast a protective arm around him and ushered him upstairs. No one spoke in the elevator. They got off on the fourth floor.

She ushered him directly to bed and pulled back the covers. He let her and he laid down weakly. "I’ll be back," she whispered, and dished some of his own soup out for him. She brought it back, this time wearing only her nightgown. She had shed the bloody robe like a flawed skin.

"Eat, love." She put the tray in front of him, and stroked back his hair.

He picked up the spoon and ate. She sat next to him, eyes closed, leaning against the headboard, giving him quiet. The pre-dawn was so quiet, so still.

He finished the soup and went into the bathroom. She was afraid that he was going to lose it but he didn’t. She set the tray next to the bed and made him lie down. She pressed herself close to him and when she wrapped her arm around him he rested his arm on hers.

Just before he slept, she whispered "You tried. That man must have a family and they will forever see you as a hero."

She dozed next to him until the alarm went off. Then she sprung up and turned it off. It woke him anyway.

"I’m taking Maggie to school. I’ll be right back."

He wanted to tell her not to miss class on his account, but he didn’t have the strength.

As she was on her way back, there was a call from Xavier.

"Logan has requested that you teach his three o’ clock for him."

She sighed, torn.

"Do you think he’d be able?"

"Honestly, I think he could."

"Then I won’t do it. He needs something to ground him now."

"Good call."

"I’ll tell him. I’m on my way back."

When she returned he was still in bed, still awake. He didn’t move but his eyes sought out hers.

"Hey darlin’. Chuck tells me you don’t want to teach." she said gently, leaning down to take his hand in hers.

"Can you do it?"

"I could, but I won’t."

"What?" It was the last thing he expected to hear. He snatched his hand away. He met her eyes for the first time since he had returned, and his were angry.

"I won’t. You’re their teacher. They need you."

"Why not?"

"If you were unable I’d take over in a heartbeat. But you are able, and they need you."

He stood up, ripped the blankets off of him. "Fuck you, Marie!" he yelled.

"Anytime, sugar." She said grimly before the door slammed.

After five hours in the gym and danger room he cooled down. The edge had been taken off and that gave him enough focus to face his class. By now calls from every network in the country had flooded into the school and the footage was readily available on the internet. Everyone knew.

He was pacing and as the students filed in they were surprised to see him. He nodded at them as he always did, and took attendance with his clipboard as always. I can’t do this, he thought. The feel of bone under his claws was still so real to him. He could feel it, again and again and again.

He blinked it away and spoke. "Okay. Pair up. We’re gonna review last week’s material."

They did as he said. He pretended to be calm, and they followed suit. It was halfway into the class, when he was adjusting a student’s punching stance, touching him with his hands, and the student was learning it without incident, that he realized she was right.

She could have gone to class after he’d stormed out, but she didn’t. She stayed home and studied all day. At three she picked Maggie up.

Meanwhile, he put his street clothes on and drove into town. He went to the first flower shop he saw and spent a hundred bucks on flowers.

When he came back with an enormous bouquet in his arms, he was contrite, but she laughed. He stood there, baffled as she kissed him. "Fuck you too, Logan," she said with a grin.

Maggie came out of her room and turned on the TV.

"No TV tonight, Maggie."

"What did I do?"

"It’s not punishment, sugar. It has nothing to do with you."

"What the hell?" Maggie yelled. Apparently Marie had not been a good influence in terms of her language.

"Maggie, don’t talk to your mom that way. Why don’t we all go to the movies?"

Just like that, he diffused the situation. They went to a nearly-deserted matinee. He put his hair up under a baseball cap and no-one recognized him. They ate gummi bears and laughed.

The next day Marie ventured from the haven of home and faced the world, post-Logan. She couldn’t walk across campus without people staring. Their whispers burned in her ears.

"Hey, mutie, what’s it like to fuck Edward Scissor hands?"

She turned to face the guy who had called out. He was pleased with himself. His girlfriend was as well.

Rogue sized him up, a quick look up and down. "A damn sight better than it would be to fuck you, I guess."

She could hold her own but a full day of this, of watching her back and devoting energy to the constant sizing up of the people around her, was exhausting. She was thankful that Logan had offered to pick Maggie up.

When she arrived home all of his things were in her apartment, and Maggie was on his lap. They were watching cartoons.

Home, she thought.

When Maggie asked why she wasn’t allowed to watch TV the previous day, Logan took it upon himself to explain that there were some things about him on that might be confusing and just plain wrong. He gave her the light version of the events in Hoboken and explained how the media was getting it all wrong. He assured her that he wouldn’t have to go to jail, and that people were just gonna be talking about him for a while.

"Can I see the knives?" Maggie asked. She needed to understand.

"No, Mags, it hurts him," Marie interjected.

"It’s okay. She can see them." He said. He tossed her a look over the back of the sofa and Marie knew better than to argue with the determined calm in his eyes.

He held one hand away from them and the knives came out. Maggie startled a bit but only a little. She reached out to touch with her plump baby fingers.

"Careful, darlin’." His heart was pounding.

"Can I touch?"

"If you’re careful. Touch on the flat part. The edges are razor sharp." He took her hand in his and held her finger out to gently trace the flat side of a blade.

She turned his hand over carefully and looked at it for a while. Marie watched from where she was studying at the kitchen table. Maggie touched all three, very carefully. They all felt the same. Smooth warm metal.

"They’re warm."

"Yeah."

"Why do you have these?"

"They’re for cutting up monsters."

Maggie giggled. "And bad guys."

"And bad guys," he said.

"Don’t forget chopping vegetables," Marie said, nonchalantly getting up to refill her coffee.

"Chopping vegetables," Maggie repeated, giggling.

"Chopping vegetables," he agreed. The claws slid home and the cuts healed instantly. "Cutting bread." "Cutting hair."

"What, you want a haircut?" he grinned.

"No thank you."

Thus, they were able to pretend that he was fine, until he actually was.

The nightmares returned in full force. Marie dozed lightly next to him that first night, felt his thrashing. She decided not to make any sudden movements. Instead she started whispering. "Logan? I’m here, love. It’s just a dream. Let it go. I’m with you."

He calmed, but after this was repeated several times in one night she woke feeling tired and worn thin. She called Jean the next morning and asked her if there was something that would ease the nightmares. She said that a sleeping pill wouldn’t work but that an antidepressant might. Marie agreed to talk to Logan about it.

She went back to school with dread. Art and Rakim had caught wind of what happened and agreed to track her to and from classes. By this time Rakim had grown to have some idea of what went on in the lower levels, so she explained to them that she was a trained X-Man and didn’t need bodyguards. They insisted.

She was secretly grateful. It wasn’t a physical altercation that bothered her. Their moral support made a huge difference.

At night he made love to her closely, possessively, solemnly. As he grew close to his release he grew more and more rough, possessing her. Fortunately she liked it this way, liked submitting to him, liked the bruises and the hair pulling and gentle bites. When they were breathing the same breath, moving close together in the dark, was the only time he could truly believe that she liked it.

"I love it when you mark me," she said as he rolled off of her, trying to catch his breath. "I wish I could mark you."

He looked at her with glazed stupefied eyes and wondered what he had done to deserve her.