An Unusual Situation

Part IV: Always Remembered

by jenn

Dedication: Sare and Ann for beta and niceness and everyone who saw the first draft and said it wasn't too bad.

******

"Whatcha doin', baby?"

Logan jerked from the phone almost guiltily, glancing back to see--Donna? Liz? Nancy?--shit, you didn't forget names like that if you wanted a repeat experience. Blonde hair, brown eyes, great body, smiling sleepily from among the sheets of the cheap motel bed and he put down the receiver quickly, pulling out a lazy grin for her benefit.

"Just gotta check up on someone." The phone hadn't been answered yesterday and it was making him jumpy as hell--though logically, if in fact they had been attacked, the phone would have been wrecked and he'd be getting an out of service notice. Which would put him on the road as soon as he could get his boots from under the bed.

Hell, he was already mapping out the fastest route in his head. Ten minutes or less to get his ass out of here and in the truck. He could do it.

Logan was perfectly willing to admit in the privacy of his mind that overreacting was his specialty

Liz?--no, Jessica. Got it. Good to go--Jessica rolled over onto her side, baring impressive amounts of skin as she closed her eyes and he took a moment to appreciate the view before getting up, grabbing his beer with one hand and the phone with the other. Disconnecting the phone, he carried it across the room to the second plug by the bathroom door, patiently running the wire underneath, and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

Locked it too. Just in case.

Called again, tapping one finger into the tile and hearing a soft crack beneath his nail at ring six. Normal bathroom floors were never meant for mutants with unusual strength. Where the fuck were they and why the hell didn't Jamie invest in an answering machine, damn it?

At ten rings, the receiver picked up.

"Hello?"

He felt his breath let out in sheer relief. Being Logan, he used anger to convey it. Which of course Jamie would know.

"Where fuck have you been?"

A pause, then Jamie's voice, remarkably amused, reached him.

"Nice to hear from you, Logan. How are ya? Outside. I'm trying to teach your little mutant to cross-country ski. Not the easiest thing in the world, lemme tell you, honey."

Logan slid down the wall, the tiles cool under his jeans, letting out another breath, temper cooling as quickly as it had risen. Relief, he wouldn't start pretending it was anything else.

"You mind gettin' an answering machine sometime?"

"So we can say we're outside to the sheer number of people who don't call?"

Oh fuck her. He almost slammed the phone down, reconsidered, and rested an elbow on his knee.

"How's she doing?"

"She's a bad skier."

He growled, sending Jamie into a fit of laughter that made him grit his teeth.

"Sorry, Logan." She didn't sound very sorry. "She's doing great. Been studying a lot."

That caught his attention.

"Studying?"

"She's finishing high school. I can see the expression on your face now--no, she's doing it from here." A pause. "She'll send in her final work and get her diploma in a few months. We've been talking about college--there's a few schools that are distance-learning, she can do it from here until she gets better control."

Logan did a mental calculation of what he had in cash and how much he'd sent last month, trying, and failing, to figure out tuition costs--how did you find out that stuff anyway, did he need to go personally to enroll her? As usual, Jamie knew what he was thinking.

"She can get financial aid--"

"No. Too much risk--I don't want her investigated. Cash. Tell me how much and I'll pay it when she starts."

There was a time, though sometimes he really wondered if it had been at all real, when he'd had a lot of disposable income. Not that he'd ever used it for anything other than his less civilized pursuits, but still. Now he carried around a mental calculator in his head, constantly toting up columns of numbers with the label Marie just above them. Jamie could talk until she was blue in the fucking face that she had plenty of money--Marie was his responsibility and he'd be damned if anyone else would pay to support her. He suspected Jamie understood his reasons better than he did, if that steady amused gaze he got the last time he went back was anything to go by.

He also knew Jamie worked with him to make sure Marie never had a single clue exactly how much he paid and what he did to get the money. Depending on Marie's retention of his memories, of course, a thing neither he nor Jamie were exactly clear on. Which he had to hope wasn't too much.

Another thought occurred to him. "That yoda idiot you called in--"

"Yoga, Logan. Yoda is a character from Star Wars."

He dismissed the correction. "He get somewhere with her?"

Another pause.

"She's inside now. You wanna ask her yourself?"

That stopped him for a moment, glancing at the closed door, listening to the sounds of--Jessica, got it in one--sleeping. Took in the even breathing--yeah, it was fine.

"Yeah."

How the whole phone obsession had started, he had no idea. Simple, though--just called to check on how Marie was adjusting, ended up popping quarters in a Seattle payphone while Marie told him about how high the snow was and the blizzard that'd almost knocked out the electricity and Jamie locking herself in the cellar by accident. And it'd scared him badly, when he checked his watch and realized he'd stood in relative contentment at a payphone during a fucking rainstorm of all things, boots sinking into the mud, for almost seventy minutes talking to a kid he barely knew, a girl who knew him far too well for his own peace of mind.

It'd been two weeks before he'd broke again, and sitting on the side of the road listening to Marie chatter, he decided, with perfect logic, that he should probably call once a week, just to check and make sure they were okay. Two months later, he had a phone card and a monthly bill that was suspiciously high, and no, it wasn't from calling for pizza deliveries.

He heard Jamie's voice call for Marie--still Rogue to Jamie, he wondered if she'd told Jamie her real name yet--and the frantic pounding of feet across wood and carpet. He winced at the sound of her tripping over something, then the burst of profanity that made him raise his eyebrows.

"That little touch she had with you has definitely lasted," Jamie said, deadpan. "You'd be surprised."

He supposed so--he'd been back twice in the last six months and both times had to admit he'd been quietly amused to see some of his personality grafted onto her. The unmistakable sound of someone getting up, another quick movement of feet, a soft slide on bare wood, and the phone exchanged hands. He could hear her heavy breathing--excitement and exertion, and just beneath it, the sound of metal sliding against bare skin--she was wearing the tags. Never did it when he saw her in person, but according to Jamie, every second when he wasn't there.

And he was *not* prepared to think about that too much, especially the feeling he got that she held something of his so sacred or the many, many things it could mean. Bad thoughts. One does not lust after kids, no matter how jaded one's life has become.

"Logan?" Breathless. He felt his body relax against the wall, grinning at the sound of her. Shit, that wasn't very Logan-like. His bookie would be shocked.

"Hey, kid."

"How ya doing?" she asked, and he heard the sound of a chair being pulled out, the rustle of her clothes as she settled into the seat, her breathing slowly settling into normal. The sound of the metal sliding against her skin, imagery he exiled from his mind the instant it snuck in to make an appearance. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Jamie says you're gonna graduate."

That chain wasn't very long, he mused. Probably rested just above her bra line. Maybe a little lower.

"Yeah." A pause, then her voice changed, just for him, the lightest edge of a drawl. "Thanks for the jacket and the other stuff. It fits perfect--I love it." He heard her settling her feet on the desk--she wanted conversation. No surprise. Logan moved the phone a few inches closer and snagged a towel to brace behind his back. This wasn't macho, but hell, who'd see him?

That jacket. He'd never in a thousand years be able to explain why he'd found himself wandering through downtown Austin, utterly fascinated by a remarkably expensive leather jacket in the window. Dropping a thousand cash on the counter, he'd looked over the three saleswomen--who looked damned nervous, making this very odd exercise sort of fun--and got one who resembled Marie's general figure to pick out the appropriate size. He remembered running his hands over it though--butter soft, black, would easily reach her ankles--she liked full body covering whenever possible.

The saleswoman had been very helpful and one of the more interesting evenings of his life when you got beneath the silk dress she'd dropped on the floor of the motel he'd been staying at. But that wasn't an anecdote he thought Marie would appreciate.

"It was nothin'. You having fun skiing?"

A little growl, that surprised him into chuckling, and she giggled. In his mind, could see her flush of embarrassment, the way her head would tilt a little, and he would bet she was twisting a strand of hair around two of her fingers.

"Sorry. Jamie always jumps when I do that. It's okay--the skiing I mean." The lack of enthusiasm was obvious, and he heard Jamie laughing in the background.

"I never got the hang of it either. Downhill is more fun."

"Jamie said she won't touch a slope for her life. Hey, that's what you said!" Directed to Jamie, he guessed, hearing Jamie's voice protesting. Cradling the phone under one ear, he reached out to find the beer he'd left by the door.

"I'll show you--Jamie is remembering a spring in Colorado. Ask her 'bout it sometime."

A breathy pause, then he heard her breathe out sharply. Stocking up her courage. He took a drink, waiting for her to ask. He had a pretty good idea what she wanted.

"Logan--" she was struggling and he let her, guessing what it was she wanted to ask. "I'm uh--my birthday is next week. I know you're busy and all--"

Busy? He wondered if what he did actually qualified as busy. It was an interesting thought.

"When?"

"Next Monday." She was quick, a little desperate. Like she thought he'd deny the only thing so far she'd ever asked him to do. Logan did some quick calculations and, yes, he could easily be back in Calgary in six days.

"I'll be there."

Though he couldn't see it, he knew she was smiling in relief.

"So how's it going with yoda--"

"It's yoga, Logan. Yoda is--"

"Whatever. How do you like it?"

He could hear the sound of her running her fingers absently through her hair.

"I can manage three positions so far and he's showing me some other stuff--didja know he was a mutant?"

Jamie had said something about that--he'd run the background check on the guy with the help of a former FBI agent while in Atlantic City several months ago. Which had confused the hell out of anyone who knew him even vaguely, but reputation preceded him and they supposed he was out to kill the guy or something and left the entire why issue very much alone. Good for them.

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I can control it, for a little while. Sometimes." The sounds of a phone being shifted from one ear to another. "It's hard, but he says it's going pretty well." Her voice became mischievous. "I don't guess Jamie told you what happened to her when she tried to teach me to ice-skate--"

An hour later--an hour? shit, he was losing it--he heard Jamie call her to start dinner, and reluctantly, she said her good-byes, handing the phone over to Jamie at his request. First question--

"What the hell does she want for her birthday?" This was a point of serious consideration--picking up random items was all well and good, but Logan was having some serious second thoughts about what was appropriate for a birthday gift.

Oddly enough, the first thing that had popped into his mind was underwear, at which point he knew his judgement was not to be trusted.

Jamie chuckled and he listened to her pull out Marie's chair, taking a seat.

"Just you, honey." He growled and she laughed into the phone. "I don't know. Clothes. Jewelry. Girl stuff."

God, jewelry. They'd shoot him on general principle if he tried to go into one of those stores. Logan didn't even think of girl stuff. He had limits.

"You live with her. Gimme somethin' to work with here, darlin'."

"Probably Cuban cigars--she picked up a taste for them--goes outside and smokes when she's under stress."

Logan put down his beer, settling back on the cool tile, every instinct coming alert.

"Stress?"

Apparently, Jamie realized what she'd said and sighed softly. "Logan--"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing--"

"Don't fuck around with me, Jamie. What the hell is wrong?"

A long pause, and he heard the sounds of her fidgeting, finally settling down and he took a breath to calm himself before he started yelling, waking up Donn---shit, Jessica--from sleep. Which he didn't want to do right now.

"I'm not sure. She won't talk to me about it--denies there's anything wrong, which is perfectly natural. So it could be anything. But she's restless, a little lonely I think, I can see that much. She needs to be doing something--she's not happy idle."

Logan had actually considered that, over the last six months, watching her, and had to agree with her assessment. The need to move--he'd picked her up doing that. Problem was, he had no idea how to accomplish it--she was way too young for him to bring her along on his little excursions, and besides that, he didn't want her exposed to that sort of thing anyway. Not that her time alone before had been all that great either, but the principle was the same.

And hell, what would he do with her anyway? There were *alot* of pleasant possibilities he just wasn't ready to deal with yet, and she sure as hell wouldn't be--or worse, and it was enough to give him a set of shudders, she might consider it payback for his help and God, that was the last thing on his mind. The very last thing he ever wanted her to think.

He didn't want anyone on those terms.

"There's--there's a school--"

"No." Logan straightened against the titles, and there it went again, the little alarms that went off at the very thought of Marie going anywhere or doing anything without his presence. "I've heard of it, too. And no, not a chance in hell."

"Logan--"

"She touches foot in America alone, God knows what will happen to her. She can't pass worth a damn and we both know she'll give it away the second someone touches her by accident. Hell, she still winces from you, and you live with her."

A long silence and Logan wished desperately for a cigar. Picking up his beer, he took a long drink, considering his options, remembering coming across that particular bit of information about a school a few weeks before, knowing that Jamie would find it out as well. Trying to decide whether to go check it out--though since the MRA was still on the table in DC, he'd kept carefully close to the Canadian border on his forays into the United States recently. He'd heard the rumors of anti-mutant uprisings, the mass exodus of mutants and their families into mutant-friendly countries like Britain, Canada, and into South America.

Which more than once had definitely caught his interest--for some reason, and right now he didn't try to define why, Brazil sounded damned good.

The last thing he needed was to be caught up in the anti-mutant hysteria--not when he had to worry about what would happen to Marie if he disappeared. And God, Marie herself--he shook his head, dispelling the nasty image. School, whatever, it was in the same county that wanted to force mutants to register and carry identification cards. And the rumors about the disappearance of children with more powerful abilities had reached him pretty easy. Marie would qualify big time. No question. And Logan, who'd never trusted anything resembling government, had some suspicions on what they'd do with a girl who could kill with a touch--after all, he had a pretty good idea what they did with regenerative mutants. That was his newest nightmare he'd never shared with anyone, imagining all the nasty things that could happen to her if she was taken.

No fucking way.

"I'll talk to Marie about it," he told Jamie finally, knowing how she'd answer.

"Talk about it?" The frustration seemed to reach through the phone at him, as if with voice alone she could shake him into her way of thinking. "You tell Marie that you don't think it's a good idea, she'll nod and agree just dandy. And you know it. Don't pull that shit with me, Logan."

That silenced him briefly. Because, yeah, she was right, and yeah, it was something he counted on.

"Jamie--"

"Never mind." He could feel her resignation. "It's not important. You comin' for her birthday?"

"Yeah." He paused, then relaxed against the tiles--having one of those blinding flashes of inspiration that always left him feeling a little high and grinning, no matter how unmanly it really was to get such a kick out of making Marie smile. "How much cold weather gear do you have?"

And Jamie's answer.

"Huh?"

Ten minutes later, preliminary arrangements complete, he finished his beer and was hanging up the phone when Jessica knocked on the door and Logan levered himself up to open it Brown eyes--pretty eyes, reminded him of Marie, though Marie had never looked like this, never had that edge of cynicism, of someone used to being used.

"Who ya talkin' to?" she asked. Logan took in the long body encased in a t-shirt, the flush of skin across her cheeks. The fact he knew she wasn't wearing underwear, just by smell.

"Little sister," he answered, standing up and scooping her off the floor and sitting her on the sink, bracing a hand on either side of her hips. "Any reason ya askin'?"

A slow smile and one arm went around his back as she braced herself on the cool marble.

"Just bored, all alone in there." She ran a finger down his face and he caught it between his teeth, watching her eyes dilate. Took a step so he was settled between her thighs, hearing the rush of her breath, brown eyes closing slowly.

"I can fix that."

* * * * *

Marie shook her head shortly as she picked up the skates, then put them down again.

"Not again. I like my skin all one general color, thank you. I like sitting. I've learned to enjoy it. I am *not* sleeping on my stomach one more night."

Hearing Jamie's snicker, she shot the shorter woman a glare that she ignored completely. Jamie was perusing their shopping list, and Marie dropped into a chair beside her.

"You want me to go for you?"

Jamie raised a brow and Marie slid a glove off, frowning briefly, placing it on the woman's wrist. A sigh, and Jamie covered the fingers with hers. "It's not that. Honey, you can't drive very well--or do we need to go look at that poor tree out back when I let you try?"

And wasn't that the truth, and Marie knew she couldn't fight that. With a sigh, she removed her head, frowning a little in memory--then snickered herself.

"This summer, I'll sign you up for driving lessons, 'kay?" Jamie frowned down at the list. "I see you got rid of meatloaf again."

"Pizza." A charming smile--they melted Jamie and Marie took her victories where she could get them.

"You're spoiled."

"I cleared snow for three hours with a sore ass. I deserve pizza."

With a resigned laugh, Jamie marked down a few more items and nodded shortly before rising.

"All right--Leo will be here in few minutes for your meditation lessons--he's not staying for dinner tonight. I'll be back by six." Jamie motioned to another piece of paper and Marie groaned. "A few things for you to do before I get back."

Marie had discovered Jamie had a passion for lists and organization. In her room, taped on the door, was the laundry schedule --{for two people?}--the household task schedule, and a rotating weekly schedule of Marie's activities, and Marie had a lot. That Jamie had never had a child was certain--she was taking every maternal instinct she had--and Marie honestly never thought Jamie had that many--on her and life had become a series of skills to master, never-ending rounds of activity that kept Marie busy and it was hard to remember a time she'd been alone in the world.

She honestly wondered exactly how life was without a schedule.

"You be all right?" Jamie asked as she got her purse, and Marie nodded quickly. Jamie always asked, always with the same fresh worry, and every time, Marie nodded easily and Jamie would breathe a sigh of relief before she left.

When the house was quiet, Marie took a seat on the couch and leaned back, closing her eyes briefly.

She'd lied to Logan--not a complete lie, not a true lie, but a lie nonetheless. She said she had a little control.

She had a lot. More than even Jamie suspected, though Jamie did know that every second came with a price--headaches, ultra-sensitive skin, and real physical danger if anyone even brushed her skin. She'd knocked Jamie out when the woman had brushed her hair and the tip of a finger had grazed her throat after one meditation session, when Marie let down those all-important mental shields and she was too tired to dodge out of the way.

Jamie never was afraid though, and that just confused her--even with Jamie's memories in her head.

The last six months had definitely changed her view on the world, that was certain. Jamie had thrown herself into the guardian role with relish, and Marie had woken up the morning after Logan left, feeling depressed, uncertain, staring at her bag in the closet, only to be dragged downstairs, fed a remarkably large breakfast, and have her entire new life mapped out for her. When Logan sent them the papers and IDs that reinvented Rogue into Anna Richards, citizen of Canada born in the province of Alberta--well, that had been interesting.

For some reason, she never considered calling her parents. Even when Jamie, late one evening, had told her that there was a secure line she could use if she ever wanted to. She'd shaken her head slowly, thanking the older woman for the thought, and Jamie had never pressed her to why.

Jamie, who she owed everything, and somewhere far away, Logan, doing whatever the hell it was he did and she twisted the chain around her neck and smiled to herself when she remembered Jamie's glance that first day, catching sight of the metal hidden beneath her shirt.

Jamie was relentlessly sensible. With anyone else, Marie would have thought that Jamie was trying to be discouraging, but she understood the implication well enough, the roundabout way Jamie liked to get a point across. The differentiation of the roles she played in Logan's head, the difficulties in changing one to the other, and the work and careful manipulation it would take so Logan would never notice that Marie had moved from the category of Responsibility to the category of Pursuable.

Jamie had laughed but Marie had seen the worry--oh, not for her so much as worry in her general direction. Worry that she didn't understand reality well enough to know certain differences, that gratitude would fade and confusion between the two, between gratitude to someone you owe everything, and love, which Jamie explained, was easily confused with everything from lust to hatred to indifference.

She could dream about it and outgrow it eventually, want it with all her heart and fail, or have it, and if Marie knew nothing else, she knew she was determined. No one crossed the United States alone with less than five hundred dollars to their name and a backpack just to get to Alaska without being determined.

This was a have situation, and she suspected Jamie knew that. There was no other reason why Jamie took her to the doctor three months earlier to put her on birth control.

"Rogue?"

Marie grinned as she heard the door quietly close, Leo's careful movement as he removed his coat and boots.

"Here, Leo." And sat up, stretching her back, as the tall man came in. Quickly ducked into the cupboard to get her meditation mat. "I'm ready."