Title: Up To Me|
Author: Donna Bevan
Fandom: X-Men movieverse
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: Scott grudgingly makes a phone call, and Logan yanks the rug from underneath him.
Series: Adaptations #4
Category: Scott POV, Logan/Rogue romance
Disclaimer: Soooo not mine! Too bad, huh? :)
Dedication: This is for Kara, who loves to write Scott...and I'm beginning to understand why. And for my sister, who would love to ride Scott - er, wait a minute...Bad Donna! :(
There are plenty of things I'd like to say to Professor Xavier right now, but one statement in particular pops to mind first - I am doing this under duress and against my will. I do not want to call Logan, and if it were up to me, I wouldn't.
If it were up to me, I'd keep the bastard as far away from Rogue as possible.
Hell, don't get me wrong here. I don't like the guy, but it's not like I don't respect him; he's a talented fighter and an incredibly intelligent man, even if he can be an animal freak sometimes. (Let's face it - he redefines the phrase "does not play well with others", okay?) And it's not like I think he doesn't care about Rogue. After all, he did risk his life to save hers... But that doesn't mean I have to trust him with it.
Because what it all boils down to is this - Logan's already chosen, and what he chose was to walk away. It's as simple as that. Whether it was what he wanted or not, it's what he did. My dad always said that was what mattered most in the end - not what you thought or said, but what you did. You know, that whole thing about actions speaking louder than words.
Of course, my dad was also a huge Green Bay Packers fan, and they suck. But that's neither here nor there.
Anyway, Logan walked, and honestly? I can't say as I blame him. Jean called him "the man with no past" once. That's not entirely right - he has a past somewhere. He just can't remember it. And I can see how it would be important for a guy like Logan to find that past, if only to be able to hunt down the men responsible for taking it from him.
Yeah, vengeance seems to be a big thing with men like him. They need it. For them, it represents the ultimate closure - making someone who hurt you pay. Most of them don't realize the truth until it's too late - that, in the end, you are left not with satisfaction or peace of mind, but with more stains clouding your soul. You are left with bitterness because all your desperate crusading hasn't settled any scores; it's just given those who wronged you that much more of your life.
I've seen it before.
Dammit, now I've completely forgotten what my point was.
Oh yeah. I'm not worried that Logan is going to blaze back into town on my trusty steed, sweep Rogue off her feet, and take advantage of her - not physically, at least. I mean, no matter what kind of dreams she's been having about him, he still can't touch her, right? So, whatever perverted ideas this whole thing plants in his head, she'll be safe from that - from watching her lover walk away, instead of just a crush.
I am glad of that. God knows it was hard enough for her to do the latter six months ago.
See, that's what I'm worried about. I fear that Logan will ease past the fragile pieces of Rogue's ego. I fear that, this time, he will really reach her heart. And I dread that, because he can do nothing with it besides crush it with unknowing fists. He won't mean to, and that will make it harder for her to bear, that he hurt her not because he wanted to, but because he simply didn't know how not to.
Geez, see what I mean? He's just trouble. I don't see why I have to call him. If it were up to me, I'd stick Rogue in one of the isolation rooms in the infirmary and hose her down with icy water until this whole thing passes. These hormone things work in cycles, after all, so this too should pass.
I am scowling as I pick up the phone and flip through my Rolodex. Logan's number is filed under the A's... for "asshole," of course. Wait, make that "asshole who stole my bike." My scowl intensifies as I dial and listen to the ringing begin.
"Yeah?" His voice is brusque and impatient and, for one wonderfully dickheaded moment, I consider screwing around with him. The thought evaporates quickly - even if Jean and the Professor didn't consider this as important as they obviously do, that's just not who I am.
My greeting is short, but not rude. "Logan. It's Scott. How are you?"
"One-Eye! Long time, no see," he replies, sounding no more cheerful. "I'm great. How's Jean?" he adds slyly. Just to tick me off, I'm sure.
"She's well, Logan." Might as well get right to the point. "Look, this isn't exactly a social call."
He chuckles, and there is humor in his voice when he speaks again. "I kinda figured that, Scooter. What's up? Did your boys manage to fuck up and let Magneto out of his big hamster cage? Or are you just worried about your bike?"
"Neither. It's about Rogue."
He is silent for so long that I start to wonder if he even heard me. Then he speaks. "Is she all right? What happened?"
His voice is flat, toneless, and I guess I know him better than I thought I did, because I know this means he is scared. Like, pissing in his shorts scared. The realization gives me pause. "It's nothing like that. She's fine. Well, we think she is, at least."
"You think she's fine?" He is deadly calm. "You think?"
This time, the hesitation is mine. "Something's happening to her, Logan. Jean can't quite figure it out, and she and the Professor think that... Well, they think you should come back."
There is stillness on the other end of the line, then a shaky exhale breaks the hush. "You tell Marie that I'll be there real soon, Summers. Tell her... Shit!" He growls the sudden curse and grinds his teeth. "Tell her I'm on my way."
I am about to promise that I will, but then I realize that he's already hung up the phone.
In my world, it's hard to really see the little things, you know? When the world is colored entirely in shades of red, things start to blur together, and I have had to compensate for that. I have learned to read people by listening to what they say and how they say it.
Logan didn't react the way I thought he would. He didn't react like an asshole or a friend or even a brother. What I heard in his not-so-steady voice was not concern or even fear.
It was barely-controlled terror, sharply edged with panic.
It's the way my voice would sound if our roles had been reversed, if he had been calling me... about Jean.
I stare at the wall in front of me, confused and more than a little bit shocked. Suddenly, I am more certain than ever before that he shouldn't come back, that his doing so would serve only to make the proverbial shit break loose and hit the fan, full force.
I mean, Logan... and Rogue? Even if he wasn't possibly old enough to be her grandfather, it's just not... right. She's so innocent, and he's worlds too hard for her. It would never work. It couldn't.
If it were up to me, I'd call him back and lie through my teeth, tell him I was just jerking him around a little because he absconded with my bike six months ago. I'd make up something, anything, to make damn sure he didn't come back and break Rogue's heart... and maybe his own.
But, as the Professor so gleefully pointed out, it's not up to me. None of it is. Besides, if the tone of his voice was any indication, Logan's probably already hit the road.
I guess there's nothing to do about it now except... wait.
Damn. Logan and Rogue? Unbelievable.