Same Coin, Different Sides:  Rogue
Title: Same Coin, Different Sides - Rogue
Author: Terri
E-Mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating: PG -13, mention of tacky slippers
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. Rats.
Archive: Dolphin Haven, Peep Hut, Agony and Ecstasy - anyone else, please ask ;)
Feedback: Please? With some peace and quiet on top? Good, bad, and ugly welcome…….
Summary: AU.  Logan.  Rogue.  Polar Bear Jammies.  Secret Documents.  Promises.
Comments: Did I mention that this is a new series?  Because it is ;) And yes, before you ask, I have lost it and no, I haven’t forgotten that I’ve still got an unfinished series or two (Portraits, Yellowstone) and that there are tons of other bunnies I need to get to.  But, apparently, I’ve come down with a bout of temporary insanity.  I blame the peeps - there are tons of them around at Easter and I just know they had something to do with it, dammit!  Why else would I begin another series in the midst of all this unfinished fic and RL craziness?  Besides dealing with my still-recovering dad (who is getting better, but more cantankerous, by the day), three of my good friends have all called with some crisis or other in the past two days.  It’s not that I don’t love them, but these are friends who are in a pickle largely due to trouble of their own making, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve needed my financial/legal/all-purpose support in a major way.  People - I only have so much energy to go around.  You’re going to have to consult each other and plan your crises a little better from now on, mmmmkay?

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“Look, I don’t think you appreciate what I’m doin’ for ya here.”  Well, he’s got that right.  I *don’t* appreciate being kidnapped for the second time today.  I still want to know how he got around security.  And I have to hand it to him - he prepared really well for my skin - he even had goggles on so I couldn’t get him in the eyeball.  Not that I would.  Well - not if there was any other way.  “Do ya know what it took to convince Mags that I should have another go at ya, that you’d join up *without* ‘special persuasion,’ huh?”

“I’m not going to be grateful that you’re being so good as to not torture me.  Come on, be serious.”

“I am fuckin’ serious.”  Whoa.  He means that.  “Rogue - I dunno why, but Mags is hell-bent on you joinin’ up.  Just do it.  ‘Cause if you don’t, he’ll find a way to make ya.”

“Is that why you’re with him, because he made you?”

“No.  I owe him, I toldya that.”  Big sigh.  Running his big hand through those big points in his big hair.  Man - everything about him is *big*, just big.  “What?” 

“Um, nothing, nothing.  You were saying about how wonderful it is of you not to torture me.”  And I was definitely *not* thinking about what other things of yours might be big.  No, no, no.  No Stockholm Syndrome for me, thanks. No kinky thoughts while I’m in danger.  BadRogue.

“I was sayin’ - join up.”

“I - I don’t even know what he wants me to do.  I’m not killing.  I’m not hurting people and planning attacks.  I’m not - I’m really not at all evil, so I’m not really good at that kind of thing.  Honest.  You wouldn’t even want me on your team.”  OK, I didn’t expect him to laugh at that - it’s just the truth.

“Yeah.  Right.  Gee, Rogue, I really dunno why we’d want a super-mutie with killer skin.  Darlin’, you really are naïve.”

Oh, bite me.  I may be young but I’m not clueless.  “Yeah, well, I guess I am.  I was actually thinking that you might be a good addition to *our* team.”

“That why you asked me to go with ya?”  I honestly don’t know why I did that - just an impulse, I guess.  I mean, even after he explained what really happened between him and Jean, he’d never, ever get along with her.  Or Scott.  Or ‘Ro.  Or - or anyone really.  He’s a lot more crass and, well, less super-heroey than anyone else on the team.  Well, apart from me.  I’m not at all super-heroey.  “Well?” 

“I asked because you’re wasting your time and talents here.”  There, that was a good answer.  Yeah.  Good one, Rogue.  Wait - why is he staring?  Is he looking at my mouth? “What?”

“Um, nothin’.”  Oh my Lord, whatever he *was* looking at, I think I just made him blush.  Just for a second, but it was there.  His cheeks got all pink.  “I ain’t gonna join up with the X-fuckers anytime soon, darlin’.  Just ain’t gonna happen.”

“Oh.  OK.”  Yet there’s still the matter of the mouth-staring.  “Do I have something in my teeth or something?  You keep looking at me.”

More blushing.  What the hell could he be thinking?  “Sorry.  Uh, anyhow - you’re not gonna leave here until you do agree to join up.  ‘Cause if I can’t convince ya, well, Vic is next up, and he’s gonna probably actually do whatever he and Mags threaten you with.  And I……..well, I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

“How very X-fucker-y of you.”  Heh.  Another good one.  He laughed again.  I bet the little raised eyebrow I did in imitation of him sealed the comedy deal.  I *am* on a roll.  Maybe kidnapping brings out the funny in me. 

“I ain’t one of the good guys, darlin’.”  Another pointed look at my mouth.  For the love of God, what is it?  Spinach or something?  Cheese?  Popcorn?  “Definitely ain’t one of those.” 

“Why do you keep looking at my mouth?”  I know it’s rude to ask, but it’s ruder to stare and I just can’t stand it anymore.  And he’s reacting again - even more blushing, redder this time, but gone just as quickly.  Now *I’m* on the receiving end of the raised eyebrow. 

“Honest?”  Uh-huh.  Why would I ask if I didn’t want an honest answer?  I mean, duh.  “I like it.  I keep thinkin’ about what it’d feel like wrapped around certain body parts of mine.” 

Whoa.  I didn’t expect that answer or that intense look.  Wait a second - is this how he got Jean into bed?  God, he’s probably just trying another angle to get me to join up.  Maybe a little reminder that that won’t work is in order.  “It would feel painful.  And then it would kill you.” 

“I don’t think so.  I bet it’d feel real nice, at least as long as it wasn’t directly touchin’ me.”  Hello - he’s grabbing my hand.  My gloved hand in his bare hands.  Big hands.  Big, warm hands.  Other things might be just as - oh, God, Marie, you’d better stop right there.  “What do you think?”

“I think you’re playing me.”  And that would’ve come out with a lot more conviction if it hadn’t been so breathy.  Dammit.  Just go on.  “Just like you did Jean.  But I’m not like Jean.  I’m not looking for the same things she was.  I like my men - ”  Dear Lord, actually I have no idea how I like my men, never really having had one, but - “I like my men respectful.  And kind.”

”No animals allowed, huh?”  Letting go of my hand and something in his eyes changed and I just really, really wish I could figure out what the hell was going on here, what was really going on. 

“No animals allowed - but, Wolverine, you’re not an animal.  If you were, I wouldn’t be sitting here in my jammies, safe and in one piece.”  He even gave me slippers.  I have no idea where he got them, but here they are on my feet.  Bear paw ones, with claws.  “I might be naïve, but even I know that.”

“So - what then, what do you want?”

“Out of a man?”

“Yeah.  Or outta life in general.”

“I want to be free of my mutation.”  Shit - didn’t mean to let that out.  That’s probably something he can use.  I didn’t mean to reveal anything like that.

“We all do.”

“Not like me.”  Shut up, shut up Marie.  This guy is the enemy.  He could be playing you.   He probably is playing you - I mean, Jean is what he’s used to, what would he want with a silly, untouchable girl?  But if he’s not playing……maybe I’m the first person, or one of the few, he’s ever really tried to talk to.  “I can never touch.  I always have to be careful around people.  If I slip up….”  Don’t think about David, you’ll only cry.  Be strong, Marie.  “People get hurt, even people I love.”

“So, what, then?  You just gave up on bein’ around people?”

“I’m around people.”  Just not ever too close.

“X-fuckers don’t count.”

I guess not - they’re paid to face danger, and I could definitely be defined as ‘danger.’  “I have friends.”

“Again, the X-fuckers don’t count.”

“They’re X-fucklets, technically.”  There we go.  Funny Marie.  Joking in the face of capture Marie.  No more mopey, blabbing to the enemy Marie.  Snap out of it, girl.

“Heh.  They don’t count either.”

“Well, OK, Mr. Sociable - how many friends do you have?”

“None.  Toldya - I don’t need relationships.”

“I have a news flash for you - you’re wrong.  You’ve got one.”

“What?  Where?”  Hee - look at him.  You’d think I just told him he’s got a bee on him somewhere, or a stain. 

“Here.  Me.”  The open mouth and skeptical look of the Wolverine conveys his disbelief.  But never fear, I have more argumentation.  “You do - you’re trying to keep me from getting hurt.  You’re talking to me and being nice.  We’re friends.”

“Aw, like hell we are.” 

“We are.”

“No way.”

“We *so* are.  I’m even going to paint your toenails next and then we can braid each other’s hair.”  More laughing.  Whew.  He could’ve gone either way on that one.  “Seriously - I - I do appreciate you trying to help me even if it is in an extremely screwed up way, you know, one that includes kidnapping me from my bed in my polar bear jammies and sneaking me off to some secret locale, right by the - right by the - where are we again?”

“Nice try.”

Darn.  “Can’t blame me. Anyway - I was saying, we’re friends.”

“Nuh-uh.  What’d you do for me?  Even if I did all that for you, what’d you do for me?”

“Hey!  I’ve already given you a present!”  OK, it was unintentional, and I left it behind in the haste of escaping *from* him, but I see that he’s wearing the earring I left on his dogtags - he must’ve punched the post through or someth - oh.  He did it with his claws, probably.  He made a little hole with the point of a claw.  That’s kind of sad. 

“I didn’t ask ya for it.  I ain’t gonna pay you back for it.”

“Of course not, that’s the definition of present.  A gift.  No asking, no strings attached.”

“Nothin’ comes with no strings attached.”

Man, I am just not getting through to this guy.  “OK, OK, Mr. Doom.  OK, Mr. Pessimism.  Everything in the whole world comes with strings attached except for that one earring, OK?  It is exempt from the laws of the universe.  It’s free, a gift, even if everything else in the whole world isn’t.  You, Wolverine, are entitled to one free earring per lifetime, OK?”

“Smartass.”

“I never promised to be a pleasant hostage.”  That got a smile.  Just a little one, but I saw it. 

“You wouldn’t hafta be a hostage at all if you’d just join up.”

“Wolverine…….”

“Logan.  Call me Logan.”

That’s a nice gesture.  And even though I never, ever do this - I mean not even *Scott* knows my name, not even Jubes, not even Remy - who’s he going to tell?  “I’m Marie.”

“Marie….”  Thinking it over, rolling it around in his mind.  Of course, he doesn’t know what a big deal it is that I just told him.  Actually - it’s kind of like another present, an intentional one this time.  “I like that better than X-fucklet.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?”  More smiles.  He likes that I’m amused by his joke.  And there the eyes go to my mouth again.  Now that I know what he’s thinking, I’m going to get red all over. “Isn’t there, um, some propaganda or something you should be showing me?”

“Propaganda?  Nah.  Did bring this, though.”  A bunch of papers?  They’re - holy crap!  They’re studies, and they say ‘Legacy’ and ‘Virus KN-209’ on them.  I guess they could’ve been forged, but - “They’re the real deal.  Secret labs.  Germ warfare against mutants, all of it.  It’s all in there.”

“Why - why are you showing me this?” 

“Because you said yourself Wheels ain’t gonna do a thing about it.  He thinks it’s bull shit, that the humans wouldn’t pull anythin’ like this.  That they’re not capable of genocide.  Lemme tell ya somethin’, Marie - I know what they’re capable of.  This ain’t outta the ball park - hell, it’s not really even a stretch.  Wheels ain’t gonna stop it.  Even with these documents - and Mags has shown him all this shit - he still wantsta bury his head in the sand, request confirmation through ‘official channels.’  Hell, they ain’t gonna confirm shit.  You wanna help save the world, kid?  You join up with us and stop this shit.”

He’s smart, really smart.  He pitched me with what he knew would push my buttons.  Don’t know exactly how he knew where my buttons were after one short meeting, but - but he does seem to have an instinct about how to get to people.  Jean, for one.  I can’t forget that he might be working me, playing me here.  But those big hazel eyes really don’t seem to be lying.  “How are you planning to stop it?”

An appraising look.  Deciding if he can tell me.  “Mags has a plan. You’ll get the full scoop if ya join up.”

Hmmm……he’s not exactly opening his innermost soul to me either.  Well, Marie - I guess it’s time to make a decision.  You’re in a camper, with the windows blacked out, God knows where, with some strange guy.  The Professor won’t know you’re not at Magneto’s stronghold and won’t be able to read you with Cerebro because of your screwed-up head.  You’re on your own.  Just you, the bear claw slippers, and your polar bear jammies.  Somehow, I think the bears won’t help me here. 

“Well?”

“I’m thinking.  It’s a big decision, you know, becoming evil.”

“We’re not evil.  We just get shit done.  And we don’t give a damn if a few heads get busted in the process.”

“Lovely mental picture.”

“Yeah.  Whatever.  Marie?”

“Yeah?”

“Answer time.”

“I…….”  I really don’t know what to say here.  I kind of *have* to say no, but if I do, then - well, I think he was really serious about Magneto and Sabes being a little less scrupulous than he is about following kidnapping etiquette.  I know I should be all, “No!  You’ll never turn me to the dark side!” and fling myself from the camper, but it’s *January* and it’s cold and they know where I live and they’d probably just find me and kidnap me again anyway and -

“Marie?”

“I need a better offer.  I - I need to know some of the particulars.”

“Like what?”

“Where do I live if I join up?”

“Mags has places.”

“Do I get my own room?”

“Quit stallin’ for time, Marie, I gotta let ‘em know and Mags only gave me - ”

“It’s not stalling - it’s - with my skin, it’s a big consideration.”

Thinking about it.  “OK.  There’s an empty room at one of the places I use from time to time.  Could see about you stayin’ there.”

“Do I get paid?”

“A little money, and all the basics taken care of.”

“Health?  Dental? Life insurance?”  OK, now I am stalling.  I know what I have to do - I have to say ‘OK, I’m all evil now’ until I can find a way to get back to the X-Men or at least let them know where I am.  But I’m not really ready to take all that on, to get to the moment where I say ‘yes, I’m going to do this’ and deal with everything that means.  I mean - I’ve always *sucked* at covert things.  I’m not a good liar, and I’m not a good spy.  I was always the one the teachers - um, wait a second.  Why’s he looking at me like that?  He’s not even looking at my mouth this time.

“Marie - if you’re in, you’re in.  No bullshit.”

He couldn’t have known what I was thinking, but, oh God, some of it probably showed on my face.  Like I said - bad liar.  “I’m just nervous.  It’s a big deal.  But - but I think you’re right, this virus has to be stopped, if it really is real.”  There, that’s not a lie, and I think Logan knows it. 

“No health.  No dental.  I’ll bury ya if you buy it while you’re on duty.”

“Gee, how can a girl say no…….”

Big huff and he’s holding my hand again.  Those eyes went to my mouth but, hey, now he’s looking right into my eyes.  He’s actually got a very handsome face.  When he’s not, you know, mutie-napping me and insisting that nothing in life is free and everything sucks.  “C’mon.  I’ll take care of you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”  And I think he really, really means that.  His whole expression changed, got solemn.  Rogue - you’re going to have to be very careful, even more careful than you thought, about how to play this.  If he goes and promises something like that and then I split…….he could be in serious trouble, and I can’t let that happen.  Not if - not if he really means it.  “Listen, stay put - I’m gonna call Mags and let him know you’re on board.”

“I can’t exactly go anywhere.  I’m tied to the chair.” 

“Uh, yeah.  Sorry about that.  Hang on.”  Having those claws must be kind of like having the baddest Swiss army knife ever, built in.  Well, in an incredibly tragic and horrific kind of way.  “There.”

“Thanks.  And Logan - ”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being a good friend to me.  I really want you to know that I do appreciate the nice things you’ve done.  You know, the non-kidnapping and non-tying-up things.” 

“Yeah.”  Hmmm.  Touching my earring, and then rearranging the tags.  Wonder what that means.  “You’re welcome.  Sit tight.  I’ll be right back.”

“OK.”  And there you have it.  I’m on the dark side of the force now.  I’m Vader - well, not really.  I’m……I’m…….well, there just is no good Star Wars analogy.  I’m Secret Agent Rogue.  Only nobody knows that but me.  Well - me, and Logan.

 
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