Tangled Up – Napea
Welcome to my first ever X-Men story. Just a few disclaimers: I don't own anything even remotely X-Men related. The song is from Staind's new album titled Tangled Up In You. It's a great CD, you should go listen to it. This takes place after the third movie with a few quirks. Rogan/Logue and any other code name for the ship. Woefully unbeta-d.
You're my world,
The shelter from the rain.
He found her on the bench in the backyard, sitting in the pouring rain. Her face turned upright and her eyes closed. Her arms crossed at her wrists on her lap, one leg resting upon the other. It was such a casual pose that he thought it looked like she was soaking up the sun instead of letting the rain slide down her upturned cheeks.
His arm twitched toward the mansion as if to signal his need to be dry again but he was frozen. Stuck watching her melancholy meditation.
You're the pills,
That take away my pain.
"Did'ya come to stare honey, or are you going to join me?" She spoke without opening her eyes, without lowering her head. Rain sneaked into her mouth as she parted her lips to speak.
"What are you doing sittin' in the rain kid?" he asked, his voice softer than his usual gruffness.
She finally lowered her head and opened her eyes. Her mouth quirked upward slightly. "Hiding."
He stared at her a heartbeat longer than he probably should have. He was taken aback by the mischievous glint in her eye.
"Who you hidin' from?"
"Your boyfriend?" he asked, a frown marring his brow.
She smirked. "Ex."
He paused again. "Sorry kid."
"Don't be." As the silence enveloped them he debated joining her on the bench. She must have noticed. "Join me Logan." She patted the empty spot next to her. "It's cleansing."
He seemed to think it over then shrugged. He joined her on the bench, only cringing slightly when the water on the bench seeped through the denim. "You're ten kinds of strange kid."
Again she smirked. "Only ten?" He shrugged. It was a helpless kind of gesture. "How'd you find me?"
"I can always find you kid."
You're the light,
That helps me find my way.
She quirked a brow at him. "That doesn't sound stalker-ish at all," she assured him, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"That's not what I…" he stopped, not really sure how to explain it to her.
"I know Logan," she patted his knee. It was a mindless gesture but it left tingles where her fingers had touch him. "I can feel you too, usually. I figured I got that particular ability from you."
He grunted in reply and they fell silent again.
You're the words,
When I have nothing to say.
She sighed, something soft and almost tangible. He had noticed, over the recent days, that she acted much older than her age. She had taken a kind of quiet quirkiness about her. She was more composed, more refined but still managed to have an amazing sense of humor.
He noticed how people gravitated toward her like moths to flame. She just had the kind of personality that people loved. He wasn't immune to the pull either, though had taken great pride in the fact that he was first. The first to meet her, the first to notice the person behind the deadly skin, the first to utterly and painfully adore her.
The first, and only, person she told her real name.
It was their secret, her name, and they guarded it like it was the key to mutation. People learned quickly that, even though they'd heard Logan say it a million times, they would get their head bitten off if they dared to use it by either him or her. Sometimes both.
He only called her Rogue on missions, Marie if the mission turned south. She called him Wolverine when she was poking fun at him. Or angry.
And yet, through everything they'd been through, and through the whispers of their teammates, they remained friends and nothing more. She dated Bobby, then Remy and he pined after Jean.
Then Jean died and Marie broke up with Bobby. While Logan had mourned, he decided that his life hadn't stopped the last time someone he loved died and it wouldn't this time. Marie…well Marie just wanted time to figure out who she was after the failed cure.
And so they disappeared from the mansion, going their separate ways but never losing contact altogether. She still called and they talked. He still wrote and she'd call. But they never met up while they were out finding themselves.
And in this world,
Where nothing else is true,
Here I am,
Still tangled up in you.
I'm still tangled up in you.
Still tangled up in you.
Logan had returned first, hopping off of his bike in the middle of a shop class in the garage. Scott merely nodded to him, having gotten over the feud months after Jean's death. After the professor returned in his new body, after he'd sent them to Alkali lake to find him, they had formed a kind of friendship. Now they just pretended to hate each other with playful banter.
Marie followed, coming back to the mansion almost three months after he arrived. She hopped off of her own bike as the shop class was entering. Everyone, including Scott, stared.
She'd grown her hair out and it now hung to her lower back. She was taller, filled out nicely and dressed to the nines in jeans and leather. She had merely smirked and quirked a brow as she passed.
She took over shop class for Scott who was a horrible mechanic. Logan refused to teach so he trained instead. Marie had laughed and pointed out that they were the same thing. An argument ensued but it was over quickly and just as quickly forgotten.
He realized shortly after the first fight that it got his blood pumping to argue with her and he loved the feeling. So he argued whenever possible.
You're the fire,
That warms me when I'm cold.
Logan shifted. "How long are we staying out here?"
Marie chuckled softly. For a second he thought he imagined it. "Oh," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "Just until you're completely miserable and wondering why you ever sat down in the first place."
He grunted again. "I wondered that the moment my cheeks hit the wood, kid."
"Don't you have leather pants?"
He raised a solitary brow and looked at her sideways. "You wish."
"Hmm," she hummed, raising her brows suggestively. She stood, straightened her clothes then held her hand out to him. He didn't need help up but he took it anyway and stood. "C'mon tin man. Let's get you inside before your joints stick."
He glared. He was tempted to give her the "middle claw" but she was right. The metal moved slower the colder he got and thanks to being soaked, he was cold. He settled for squeezing her hand at a level that would make her uncomfortable.
You're the hand,
I have to hold as I grow old.
It had the desired affect. She squirmed, attempting to pull her hand from his grasp but he held on, releasing the pressure. It was her turn to glare at him. He tugged her forward, pulling her toward the mansion and she plodded along grudgingly.
"So, you gonna tell me why you're hiding from the Cajun?"
Marie rolled her eyes then fixed him with a half-amused, half-annoyed glare. "He was singing the 'make-up' song and I didn't have the heart to tell him that he wasn't what I wanted anymore."
"What do you want then?" Logan asked almost hesitantly.
"Sex, drugs and rock and roll." She rolled her eyes again. "I just don't want him."
"Maybe that's your problem."
"I have a problem?" she dodged.
"You don't know what you want," he returned, ignoring her jibe.
"Oh," she started, drawing out the word. "I know exactly what I want."
He was quiet for a second. "Then why don't you go after it?"
She snorted. "I want beer and chocolate for breakfast every morning but it doesn't mean I can have it."
You're the shore,
When I am lost at sea.
"Is that what's stopping you? You think you can't have it…er, him?"
"Who says it's a guy?" She smirked.
"Whatever floats your boat darlin'." The finally reached the patio. Upon being on dryer ground and out of the rain, Logan dug in his jacket pocket and produced a cigar.
"Allow me," Marie said as he began to fish for his lighter. He watched her as she slipped a glove off her hand in one quick tug. She snapped her fingers for show and presented him with a lit thumb, fire dancing merrily at the tip of her finger. He stared at her for a moment as if afraid of the fire. Or her. "Hurry now. It gets hot."
He frowned marginally but leaned forward and caught the end of his cigar on fire. He filled his mouth with smoke, blew it out on the end to extinguish the fire then regarded Marie thoughtfully.
"When'd you learn to do that?"
Marie shrugged. "Remember when the Professor and I were working on controlling my powers?" He nodded. "Well, while we've made marginal progression there, we stumbled upon a myriad of powers I'd sucked in. We started experimenting to see if I could call these powers." Again she shrugged and it seemed like a helpless gesture.
"Can you do me?"
She turned mischievous eyes to him. "Why, Logan, that's no way to speak to a lady."
He glared. "That's not what I meant and you know it."
She snorted. "Yeah, we found that producing claws when you're not filled with metal can be extremely painful…and weakening."
She leaned against the railing, watching the rain continue to fall. "The professor thinks that you had fortified and somewhat elastic bones before the adamantium was put on. That your body made your bones larger simply for that purpose. My body isn't."
He took a few minutes to digest that, seeing the sense behind the theory. He on the thought of her being in so much pain though. It was hurt a little for him but it was fleeting because he had the healing factor.
"What about the healing," he said as the thought entered his mind.
She shook her head. "I can't call it. Apparently I have to be touching you to get that one." She held her hands up, palms outward. "No thanks, I have enough of you in my head."
He hesitated. Something he only did around her. "How much?"
She quirked a brow at him. "You think my love of beer and hockey is my own?"
He winced. "That much, huh?" He puffed on his cigar thoughtfully. "Sorry."
"Don't be," she said for the second time that afternoon. "You…the way I am, the way I am around you, with you in my head, it's pretty much the only thing I like this situation."
"You like having me in your head?" he asked, his voice incredulous.
"Yeah," she said, her voice upbeat. "It keeps things interesting."
He stared at her a moment longer, mulling over her words. She liked who she was when she was around him. She liked having him in her head. It was unfathomable. It was flattering and it made his inner Wolverine roar with pleasure.
But mostly it was comforting.
"Ditto kid," he said finally. "Except about the head part obviously."
She chuckled as he smiled. Again they fell into a comfortable silence.
You're the only thing,
That I like about me.
They stood there for a few minutes, both of them lost to their own thoughts as the rain poured down on the muddy earth. Logan puffed away at his cigar while Marie pinched her fingertips in an attempt to prevent herself from grabbed the cigar from him for her own enjoyment. She peeked up at him from the corner of her eye.
"Don't even think about it darlin'." He responded to her shifty behavior. "I can't get cancer."
She perked up, the opposite reaction he was expecting. But then, she never did the expected.
"That's alright. I have my own stash upstairs." He sighed, making a mental note to raid her room the next time she went out.
"Kid," he said, warning lacing his voice.
"Marie," she sighed. "It's ok to call me Marie."
"I call you Marie all the time," he shot back defensively.
"Yeah, interchangeably with 'kid'. You're the only one, and believe me when I say the only one, who seems to have not noticed that I've grown up." She paused. "Cocky as that sounds."
He pinned her with a hard look. "I've noticed."
And in this world
Where nothing else is true
Here I am
Still tangled up in you
I'm still tangled up in you
She squinted at him, as if unsure what to say, then smirked. "Aw, Logan. Are you trying to tell me that you think I'm hot?"
"You can't do serious, can you?"
"Can anyone do serious?"
"Marie," he warned again. "Are you able to be serious?"
"Are you going to answer all of my questions with a question?" He glared in response. She merely smiled back. "Sometimes."
"I can be serious sometimes," she supplied as if he should have been able to follow her and that because he didn't she felt the need to speak to him as if here was a child. Or stupid. "I just don't like to be."
"What happened to the kid that jumped into the back of my trailer?"
She stared at him for a moment, her head tilted to the side. "Kid grew up. Found a best friend in the most unlikeliest of places. Ran into trouble every now an then. Lost good people along the way." She paused, her eyes taking a distant shimmer. "Oh, and lets not forget falling for the one thing she couldn't have."
"My bike?" Logan joked.
She cracked a smile, chuckling softly. "Close."
How long has it been?
Since this storyline began?
And I hope it never ends.
And goes like this forever.
"Marie?" he said softly.
"You're telling me you never noticed?"
He stared at her for a long moment. Staring as if he could see into her very soul. She watched, tilting her head to the side and beginning her own study of his eyes. She blinked then looked away as if she hadn't found what she was looking for.
"The bike used to belong to Scooter," he said finally.
She laughed, one quick laugh. "Scoot…er, Scott only thought that bike belonged to him." He rewarded her with a triumphant smirk. She pushed away from the rail and closed the space between them, not giving him time to react before she pressed her lips softly to his then pulled away just as quickly. She moved away, heading for the patio door but hesitated. She glanced back at him, her eyes dancing with amusement.
"You can be so dense sometimes Wolverine." She said, then disappeared into the mansion.
He stood there, staring at the door that she thoughtfully left open for him.
In this world,
Where nothing else is true,
Here I am,
Still tangled up in you.
Tangled up in you,
I'm still tangled up in you.
He wasn't really sure why she'd picked him. Wasn't really sure he was any good for her. He defiantly wasn't sure (and didn't want to think about it) how everyone else would feel about the new direction he now faced.
But he was sure he didn't care.
He smirked, light dancing in his eyes and began the chase for his new—his last—prey.
Still tangled up in you.