-The Untouchable Girl -

“Say whatever’s on your mind.” He says, lightly nudging his shoulder against hers (covered as it was by the hoodie). “I ain’t a cop, or a therapist - I’m just your dad.” That part, he said with a grin, glancing sidelong at her before looking back out at the water. Then, he does what he’d promised to do. 

He listens. 

He doesn’t try to speak over her or interrupt as she goes, though he does nod here and there to let her know he’s paying attention. And no, he’s not happy about what he hears, but he’s not surprised, either; nor does he think it’s her fault. He sighs, closes his eyes, and nods one more time. 

“It’s a lot to deal with.” He agrees. “And it sure did jump at us outta the blue, huh?” Talk about the mother of all understatements - nobody could’ve seen something like this coming. Sure, they were X-Men. Weird and unexpected was their stock and trade, but… This was out there, even for them. And Rogue was just a kid. She'd already been through too much. 

The worst thing Rogue thought she could have said to either of her dads was that she wanted to up and run away from the mansion again. They had worked so hard to bring her home the first time. Now Rogue said it and the biggest reaction she got was a hair ruffle and ‘who would I ride a bike with’?

“You’d miss me? That’s it?” The question came quietly, but like a ripple in the lake the effect of it grew in size with each passing second. She swiped out a hand to knock his touch away. She didn't want it.

Rogue stared at Logan, red-rimmed eyes round with shock and shining in the dim moonlight from tears that wouldn’t stop welling up. Her world was crumbling around her - she had lost everything and he was grinning. What else did she even need to prove that the men who were her fathers were no longer the same people. This wasn’t Rogue’s Logan. He belonged to a different daughter now. Hell, he changed his whole damn mind in order for Clarice to stay but she got nothing more than a pat on the head like a puppy.

Rogue swiped the sleeve of her jacket across her face. Now was not the time for tears. The girl wanted to hit something. She pushed up forcefully to stand over Logan. Her boots thunked against the wooden planks as she began to pace.

“You ain’t my Dad. Not anymore if that is all you got to say!” Anger was boiling inside of her blood and her voice felt raw, yet all Rogue could summon wear ugly tears that somehow wouldn’t stop. “MY DAD wouldn’t jus’ wave me off. He would have more to say than bad jokes about Yamaha!” She dashed her hand across her face, vainly attempting to stem the flow of her crying.

“At least I thought he wouldn't…. He left me for another kid that he didn’t even know. Let you replace him.” Why had she allowed herself to get hopeful and complacent? This is what parents did. They left. Rogue swallowed hard, finding it harder to breath despite the clear evening air.

Remy wasn't much good at being reasonable the way others deemed proper, though. His idea of reason was a shade darker and full of holes an' loops galore. He had a thief's thought process and that colored his view of the world, and consequently her confession, in whole other way.

For him there never was black and white, though some things could be. Plenty of shades existed in-between and it filled him with a sudden relief that she had some understanding of it... even if she was still holdin' some anger in her heart when it came to his lack of transparency.

It was tempting, then, to go on, to share more with her as if he were a child growing giddy in finding a new friend that had all the same background as him. But how to explain what happened in them city sewers? Was it even close to being the same?

He swallowed thickly, smiled thin, and nodded.

"'S'pose none of us be innocent... I've done things I ain't proud of, and I jus'-"

Boots crashin' in the underbrush and a soft growl from Logan put whatever Remy was about to say to the back burner.

"If you two are done makin' up, we got ourselves some recon to do."

Whatever else it was that Remy planned on revealing to her was cut off by Logan dropping into the middle of their conversation. They weren’t done ‘makin’ up.’ They had hardly even touched on the tension that continued to simmer in between them since that morning. Belladonna was the real poison, not whatever past Remy was afraid she would judge.

Rogue’s jaw set, irritated by the interruption, but she understood that they had pressing matters to handle. Life and death. This…this was all just personal nonsense that had to wait.  For a fraction of a second, her green eyes met Logan’s as they started to head back to the group. She didn’t need a second longer. His abilities meant he heard everything and she could tell he knew that things were unfinished. The message was clear - it was best not to pick at the scab, so to speak, until the Brood were dealt with. 

“Yeah, alright.” Rogue huffed, stomping along after the two men.

Her agreement might not have been so ready had Rogue known they would be sloshing around in the New Orleans sewers. Didn’t even matter how good of sanitation they had at the mansion, she was pretty sure these boots needed to be trashed when the team went home. The worst part of the whole ordeal, though, was the reappearance of a certain wife who was ‘giving assistance’ as a representative of the Assassin’s Guild.

Assistance that looked a lot more like flirting from where Rogue was standing. Every sharp smile Belladonna threw Remy's way had her nose twitching in disgust even more than she oppressive smell that enveloped them. Logan shot her glances periodically, clearly on edge from whatever scent and energy she was exuding that cut through sewer stench. Maybe he had been wrong ‘bout interrupting their conversation then. His own fault.

A shape in the darkness caught her eyes, nothing alive. Rogue walked over, kicking her foot at the remnants of a Brood nest against the slick brick wall. 

“I dunno if he’d do that.” Logan says. It’s not exactly a lie - he might be able to prevent it. And. besides… “He’d have to find ‘em first, anyway. That'd give us enough time to talk him out of it.” He’s joking, mostly. It’d probably work. 

Probably. 

“Well that’s why I said we should tell him it was trainin’. He woulda bought that.” She grumbled, crossing her arms stiffly over her chest. Victor wouldn’t be frantic and asking questions if he believed a good and easy story. It was one thing to enjoy Logan fussing over her, it was another to get Victor riled up and mad….she had witnessed him lose his cool before and did not care to repeat the experience.

The one little hitch to Rogue’s plan to whitewash the whole situation for her dad is the fact Logan refused to lie to Victor. Okay, sure, it was an excellent policy for their partnership and what a wonderful thing it was for each of them to have somebody they could trust implicitly and be open with after everything they suffered.

Did not change that it was damn annoying for Rogue though.

She didn’t want to have to talk her dad outta murdering the driver who accidentally hit her - without stopping. Heck, she didn’t even really wanna lie about it either except for the fact that Victor would be worried any other ways she went about it. All the girl really wanted was to curl up on a mattress and go to sleep until the next afternoon. Funny how being unconscious in a ditch really didn’t give a body rest.

Not the kid's fault though. He lets it slide.

"Yep, darlin'," he says simply, offering a hand. "Just brace here and swing your leg over, there ya go. Don't be 'fraid to get snug. I don't bite. Least not too hard." He chuckles and reaches down to make sure Rogue's got a secure hold on his hips. "This won't be too excitin' with what you're capable of but it'll be a fun cruise."

He revs the engine just for the hell of it then kicks them off to roll out of the garage, down the drive, and out through the gate, and onto the road. It's seasonal, warm weather and a bruising breeze that ruffles the tops of the trees, stirring leaves across the asphalt. It's just a ten minute ride into town and Victor doesn't take it slow. He never does.

"See this all ain't so bad!" He says to Rogue, raising his voice enough to be heard over the engine. "I'll have to teach you how to ride sometimes, darlin'. I think you'll like lettin' loose."

The conversation he had with Logan last night came back to mind. About being a dad and how not to fuck this up. Just be yourself. Victor lets his nerves settle a bit. This at least, feels alright.

Rogue frowned a moment or two at the narrow gap available for her on the back of the motorcycle. It was going to be awfully cozy. Had it been somebody other than Victor making the offer, then the girl might suggest another method of transportation. Instead, Rogue took the offered hand, needless as it might have been, and swung her leg across as instructed.

Victor joked about not biting and it struck Rogue then that they both caused "sane" people to hesitate when it came to close proximity. Another tally-mark in the column of their similarities. The only difference was that Rogue found it best to cultivate that hesitation rather than try to put people at ease near her. The space made her comfortable...but Victor was an exception.

Rogue fought the desire to lean back and widen the gap between them, instead placing her gloved hands at his sides to hold on. Her grip tightens when they shoot off down the drive. It became more of a hug, with one cheek pressed to his back, than a polite hold.

With her initial startle response gone, Rogue turned to look around at the scenery as it whizzed by in colorful blurs. It reminded her more of flying than riding in a car - wind whipped her curly into tangles and she closed her eyes to savor the feeling of it on her face. Flying did smell a lot less like gasoline though.

"Not bad at all!" Rogue shouted over the rumble of the engine, which probably did more for hearing herself than for Victor. The offer to teach her to drive thrilled her more than the actual ride itself.

His kid... The smile on her face was irresistible. One arm uncurled from around her dad and he extended her hand out, feeling the push of air through her spread fingers.

“I, uh…” Does he want to talk about it? With her? To put those thoughts in her head? Thoughts of needles, labs, white coats, torture, pain, and blood, and blood, and blood, and–

No. No, she doesn’t need that. No kid does - but there’s enough she has to clutter her head without his mess added to it. She shouldn’t be taking care of him. 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He’s a liar, is what he is. But talking at all is helping. Staying alert is helping. Focusing on anything but the phantoms that still drilled at the base of his skull was helping. He lets out another shuddering breath, then wraps an arm around her shoulders to tuck her against his side. Keep her close, keep her safe (give his hands something to do that wasn't destructive). 

Made sense that Logan didn’t want to talk about the nightmares that had drawn Rogue into the room to help him. They hadn’t ever talked about the horrifying memories that lurked in Logan’s mind, waiting for him to sleep before they replayed. Not because Rogue was deliberately trying to hide anything from Logan - he and Victor were steadfastly against her lying to them - she just didn’t want to dredge up the past and hurt him when there was nothing to be done about it. What good would it do Logan to know that she’d absorbed that nightmare into her own consciousness? He would just feel guilty that the incident with his claws left a psychological scar instead of a physical one.

Needles sinking endlessly into her skin, vague figures into white coats staring at her through glass, pain that burned through her bones until she wanted everything to end. It was all just a shadow of reality that Rogue experienced from touching Wolverine in the past. He lived through the real deal. He had the context and the terror ingrained into him and she was pretty sure her Dad did too. Something like it anyway.  

If neither of them wanted to talk about it then Rogue wasn’t about to make them.  She had her secrets and a past too, after all.

Logan bypassed taking the hand Rogue offered and dragged the girl closer to his side for a cuddle. A quirk of her fathers that she actually rather enjoyed - neither of them feared her powers and both offered physical comfort in a way Rogue never thought she’d get again. She tucked her cheek against his shoulder and felt Logan's breathing slowly calm.

“I could never hate you, darlin’. Not in a million years or more,” he says. “Especially when you did nothing wrong.” Sure, the running away had terrified all of them, but there was no real harm done. He wasn’t gonna go grey any time soon. (Or possibly ever - reality seemed to treat that as a coin toss.) What mattered now was, she was home safe. They could take care of her and work through this together. 

As a family. 

(And that was, in its own way, frightening. It had been so long since he had this kind of family. Yes, he has the X-Men, and yes, he’s had Victor for a while, and yes, he has kids he looks after - but to actually be someone’s parent? He hasn’t ever gotten that chance. Almost did, once, but- Well. He’d lost her. He’d lost them both. He couldn’t - he wouldn’t - lose this new family, too. Not this time.) 

If only it were easy for Rogue to trust in the kind words that Logan offered - scattered like seeds across a wounded heart that struggled to let them take root. No matter how much she wanted them too. A family’s love was so impermanent in Rogue’s various experiences. Mothers, fathers, aunts, they all disappeared or gave their children away when life became hard or the kid didn't fit their plans. But she hoped that things could be different this time.

Logan never gave Rogue reason to doubt him, even when all the others in her life had. Victor was trying. Logan was trying. Rogue needed to be giving just as much as them. Here was her next step- she asked if Logan wanted to be family and he said yes. Rogue would take him at his word. A response caught in the girl’s throat when she tried to reply. Her eyes dropped down to the reassuring hand on her sleeve.  

“Sure thing. Wait right here, I’ll be back.” And he is. It's a quick trip to find the meds, and a quick trip back to the room. He knows the dosage, but glances at the label anyway, then shakes two small capsules into his palm before setting them on the counter for her. The bottle is slipped into his pocket to put it away later. For now, he leans against the door frame again, hooking his thumbs through his belt. 

Logan didn’t leave her in the bathroom alone long, just enough to find the meds and then straight back. Yeah, the worried parent routine was a nice look on him,but Rogue wasn’t going to admit that she kinda enjoyed it. Pretty darn messed up that she actually liked the attention. Not that the girl was gonna start throwing herself in front of more vehicles to get it more often or anything. It was just a shiny silver lining to a painful situation. Like he’d said, it was nice to have a little help sometimes.

Rogue plucked the pills from the counter before she cupped her hand under the faucet to fill her palm with water to toss them back and wash them down. She nearly choked when Logan mentioned her dad. Rogue coughed, turning wide green eyes on Logan.

“Do we gotta? It’s not like I did anythin’ wrong.” Lying was definitely against family policy, but she hadn’t stolen or crashed anyone’s property! Heck, it wasn't even like she'd snuck out without telling anyone. It was just an accident. "The cops weren’t even involved this time."

"So long as life remains, there is always hope… and so long as there is hope, there can be victory!"

And even then they could not hold a candle to how the touch of his Anna Marie's fingers felt slipping through his unruly mop of a russet brown mane. The way his mouth watered, how his breath caught at the back of his throat and caused a soft, wet groan when slowly released. He could only imagine then how this felt for her.

But this did not deter him from pushing through the motions carefully. He hooked his fingers in the band of them jeans and wiggled them down the bell curve of her hips but chased the motion with his mouth. Remy kissed at her belly button, then lower and lower and lower as he dragged the jeans down.

It was quite a change, Remy so determined and focused that the smooth talk, which usually filled the forced safety gap between them, was discontinued. Rogue’s entire world felt askew, tilted in a way that had her scrambling to keep a firm hold. It was the way Remy looked at her, his black eyes with longing and lust that seemed altogether different with the knowledge their desires would soon be satisfied. It was the drag of denim against her feverish skin followed by gambit’s fingertips in the clothing’s wake.

That was nothing compared to when Remy’s lips finally touched her. Years without feeling the actual touch of another person had her sensitive, every nerve of high alert and embracing the sensations that had her mind short practically short circuiting even before he had her fully undressed.

Rogue whimpered, her strong fingers unthinkingly pulling on Remy’s hair. She needed him closer even as getting what she wanted felt too much for her to handle. Her breaths came faster, unable to offer any assistance as Remy lifted her, his arms around her thighs and spreading her open. Green eyes, dark and lush in the dim room, fell closed as her head tilted back into the door with a ‘thump’ when his tongue made contact.

“Oh my god.” The groaned words were loud enough that, later, Rogue would be grateful for the sound proofing that existed in most of the bedrooms. Well, had said she wanted to be touched and Remy was delivering wasn’t he? It was better than any fantasy Rogue had managed to conjure over the years. Even as pleasure burned through her and coiled tighter in her center, it was also disconcerting - to be completely bared and so out of control. To be entirely the mercy of another when for years Rogue had to keep a tight rein on herself. But Remy clearly  knew what he was doing and had the entirety of her trust in the bedroom as much as he did on the battlefield….and she was starting to think his expertise lay more in the former than the latter. 

send one to have our muses meet for the first time.

“Sorry, were you just talking to me?”

“I think you dropped this.”

“You look lost. Need some help?”

“I don’t usually talk to strangers, but…”

“You’re sitting in my spot.”

“Whoa! Careful!”

“We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.”

“Is that seat taken?”

“Sorry, I think I just spilled something on you.”

“You’re blocking the doorway.”

“Were you just staring at me?”

“Excuse me, do you know the time?”

“Wait — are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”

“I’ve been sent to find you.”

“Please don’t be alarmed, but I think we have the same bag.”

“Do you work here?”

“I’m fairly certain that’s mine.”

“You’ve got something on your face.”

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Do you know the way to ___?”

“You’re hurt. Do you need help?”

“That’s a fine ___ (cloak/hat/book/etc.). Where did you get it?”

“This might sound strange, but can I hide behind you for a moment?”

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“I think your dog just stole my lunch.”

“Hey, you dropped your coin purse.”

“I think we’re stuck in here together.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but…”

“Are you the new neighbor?”

“First time in town?”

“I’m not sure if this belongs to you, but…”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“I think you’re in the wrong place.”

“You seem… out of place.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you following me?”

“That was a close call.”

“Not to alarm you, but someone’s watching you.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“You look like you’re in trouble.”

“Was that your doing back there?”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“That was impressive. How’d you manage it?”

“I’m guessing you’re not here by accident.”

“Do I want to know what just happened?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.”

“Is it always this strange around here?”

“I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not.”

Which didn't sound witty actually, he realized as he walked down the stairs and slung his jacket on over his shoulders, it sounded kinda pathetic. He was being pathetic, an actual loser. Fuck.

But there was the kid on the porch, dressed and ready to go, and grinning at him. Not just the kid, his kid; and Victor felt like he should do something, hug her, or sling an arm around her to squish her into his side, but was that okay? No idea. He wasn't going to shake her damn hand, for god's sake. Yep, so awkward wave back.

"Hell yeah, we can do burgers, " Victor said, with a slight grin. He pulled his bike keys out of his jacket pockets and lifted them for Rogue to see. "There's a place in Salem that I think you'll like. Ya feelin' up for a ride, kiddo?"

Victor led the way down the front porch steps and to hook around the yard to the garage. There, he turned the ignition and swung his leg over the back to settle on the seat.

When her lunch suggestion was met with enthusiasm, Rogue couldn't help it if her expression brightened just a little more. Sure, it was burgers and what meat eating person in America was opposed to that? It was almost a given considering she was throwing the idea at Victor in particular. He would eat just about anything carnivorous. Still, the girl soaked up the smile and affirmation like water in a dry sponge. Maybe if somebody else referred to her as kiddo, Rogue might have scowled and volleyed back a scathing retort....but her dad was calling her kiddo which had her nodding her head eagerly instead of turning prickly.

Rogue followed with a hint of a skip in her step as she descended the porch stairs toward the garage that housed the variety of vehicles owned by Professor Xavier as well as the other teachers at the Institute. It was common knowledge that the motorcycles belonged to Logan and Victor, and if you knew what was good for you then you didn’t even think about touching those prized possessions. 

“Nuh uh.” The girl shook her head, two-toned hair swaying against her cheeks. “By the time I was able to drive or Momma would let me on one, I was already flyin’.” They weren’t Raven or Irene’s style really either. Then it occurred what, or rather who, she had just brought up. Oh heck. The girl’s mouth became dry as a desert. Her tongue was course sand scraping at the roof of her mouth as her jaw clenched tight.

Taboo topic. Rogue was determined for today to be a nice time. A happy memory for Victor to think about instead of the bull-headed and angry daughter she'd been up until now. No bringing up her mother. The wound was too raw for both of them to deal with her just yet. But from a quick glance, Victor didn't look like he was about to get mad. Slowly, the tension in her shoulders lessened as Rogue circled the pavement and observed the bike.