This is my first fic for X-Men and the WolvieRogue fandom for that matter. =3 I blame (owe) Steph-nee.
Disclaimer: I do not own Wolverine or Rogue. Though I wouldn't mind owning Wolverine... he's teh smex.
You and your kind are scum!
You don't deserve to share our world!
Hell, you freaks don't even deserve to live!
Rogue had heard it all before, read it all, seen it all. But it had never hit her like this. She had never expected to see the name Cody Robbins on the envelope and open it to see this kind of hate. Granted, she put him in a coma. But she'd had no control over it, he knew that… right?
She let the letter drift to the floor, the phrase "deserve to die" embedded in her mind as she felts tears leak down her cheeks. It shouldn't hurt this much. This has happened before, they've gotten stuff like this since Xavier's real nature of the school came out in the open. But Cody. His smile surfaced to her eyes, the one that had her head over heels flirting like a dog. But the words resurfaced and turned his face into a scowl of hate. She knew what they would say. All that "sticks and stones" crap. But sticks and stones had never hit her heart, had never made it past her skin.
'Logan.' Her mind whispered. She needed Logan with his unconventional ways and gruff attitude and voice of solid gravel that washed over her like hot water on a freezing winter morning. 'Logan.' Her mind stated again, more tears falling down her cheeks. 'He's probably all the way across Canada by now…' she retorted to her mental voice. 'Logan…' it just pleaded and she grabbed her cell and dialed the familiar number.
"Yeh?" Came a gruff, sleepy grumble. Rogue tried to speak but couldn't in the shock that his voice sent through her distress. "Rogue…?" He rumbled and she sniffed. "What's wrong, Darlin'?"
"L-Logan…" Rogue's accent was slightly heightened by her distress, but didn't drawl like it normally did in her agitation. His name was all she could attempt.
He was wide awake now apparently. "What happened? Are you alright? Is it the professor, Jean, Ki-"
"No…" her whisper cut him off. "It's nothing like… like that… I just…" she sniffed and just listened to the familiar rumble of his breathing. "Can… can you just talk? Like… just…" she sighed.
"Yeah, kid…" She heard the curiosity in his voice. "Whatever you need, I'm right here…" he stated and she heard a rustling sound of him sitting up and a slight sucking as he drank from a bottle and hissed as the liquor burned down his throat while waking him up. She curled her knees into herself with a sniff and he began to speak, no rhyme or rhythm, just rambling on in a very unlike himself way.
She didn't speak after that, just listened to his voice; the lull, the pull, the magic of churning gravel speaking to her in low tones that made her feel safe and secure. After the first hour her tears had stopped. The second saw her asleep with her phone on speaker and pressed tight against her chest.
"G'night, kid…" Logan yawned and hung up once he heard her deep breathing. He set his phone in an easily accessible place and hunkered back down to drift into sleep. He'd ask her who he needed to kill in the morning.