Okay, so this was originally posted under X-Men Comics, but I decided it really belongs here, under Movies. I think the characters fit better here and Wolverine is better to look at in the films. ;-) Anyway, this one-shot was born because I started thinking; what if after Rogue absorbed David's personality she had some problems? I like problems, we all have problems, so I wrote this. It's probably an AU, too. Rogue doesn't think she fits in well at the school and she doesn't have friends, either, or that's what she thinks.
Reviews are always welcome, and a huge thank you to Roguelover who already reviewed this fic before I went and moved it like a finicky idiot.
Gotta Have a Reason
This place looks depressing, dark, really dark, even darker than dark, and I'm happy I'm here. It's got a rough charm, maybe. Yeah, there's definitely something here he likes. This is my first visit to a bar and I chose this one, Harry's Hideout. It has a man's name and guys are walking in there, looking like they need a belly full of beer and a mouthful of peanuts before their wives find out they aren't at home. But I'm here, hopefully, to find a friend. I want a friend, that's all. I'm lonely.
"And I hope you're happy now, David!" I snap sullenly. "If you want beer, I'll give you beer." I think he's happy now, just like me. He was always happy when I said yes to beer or kissing.
I only have one tenant in my head and he used to be a nice boy, but he's twisted now. He's not been the same with me since he found out I'm a mutant and I put him in a coma. He wears me down, he's dragging me down, and I'm so down I can't remember where up is anymore. David likes beer and if I drink it he stops shouting in my head. That's not the only reason I've started drinking it, though. It makes me a better person, too. People like me when I'm drunk because I'm louder and I'm not shy.
"David, you better stop! I'm going in, just stop shouting! You're hurting my head!" I whimper like a baby, picking up my pace and nearly running into the door of Harry's. He knows it hurts, I mutter to myself in my head, he likes hurting me. David is dead and the idiot in my head is taking over, but at least there's beer.
It takes me thirty seconds to work up the courage to step into another grungy environment I don't belong in. As usual, though, David's there to help. "Alright," I groan as another wave of pain rips through my tired head. "I'm going, I'm ready to go in."
It's not as bad as I thought it would in here. Most people smell of sweat, but on the plus side nobody's asked for my ID yet. "Can I have another beer, please?" I whisper to the man behind the bar, feeling like if I start taking too loudly he might notice me and decide he needs to see my ID.
"I'll buy this pretty girl's drink," a fat, flabby man with a love of baseball caps says as he winks at me. His hazel eyes twinkle in my direction from under a greasy, pock-marked brow and he looks ready to rev up his engine.
I go from being really curious to embarrassed as I feel a blush creep down my body. He's staring at me and licking his lips, and I don't know where to look. "Thanks, I like beer tonight," I tell him, frowning when the barman sits a bottle down in front of me and then rushes off into the backroom. "Hey, what's wrong with him? Mister Sir, we haven't paid for it yet."
A growl behind me cuts through the last of my words. "She don't want it," a gruff voice says.
I glance over my shoulder and smile. "Logan, what are you doing here? It doesn't matter, you should come and join us, anyway." I look at the guy in the baseball cap who's sweating and wide-eyed. "You don't mind, do you?" I ask my new drinking buddy. He gulps and shakes his head, forgetting how to speak. "Aw, that's nice. Isn't that nice, Logan? I like it here, everybody's nice."
Logan arches an eyebrow and snatches the bottle out my hand. "Take it and leave," he growls, taking a step towards my new friend and handing him the bottle.
The man with the baseball cap nods and starts to back away, looking a lot like a playboy pig who's just been caught sleeping with a snarling wolf's wife.
"Did you have to scare him away?" I ask unhappily, tracing a finger through the spilled beer on the bar.
"Yeah," he mutters, patting me on the shoulder and sitting down on the stool beside me. "I did."
I gaze at him with a pout, feeling sorry for myself because the man in the baseball cap was the only friend I'd made tonight. "But he was only being friendly."
"No, he weren't," Logan grunts . "Don't you have any sense in that head of yours?"
I puff up my chest a little and sit up with a scowl. "Of course I have," I tell him, defensively. "I'm not stupid."
"Could of fooled me," he snorts, digging in his jacket pocket in search of a cigar. Then he looks over at me and sighs, reading the tears in my eyes. "I'm just looking out for you, Kid. Guys like him are only searching for one thing and you ain't about to give it away."
"I know," I sniffle, promising my brain I'm not going to cry even though I'm crying. "But he couldn't have tried anything because of my powers."
"Your skin means jack shit outside the mansion, Rogue. It's not going to stop anyone willing enough." He scratches a week's worth of stubble on his chin and sighs again. "Look, I'm not saying you can't have some fun but you've got to be careful about it."
I give him a watery smile and wipe my tears away. "Logan, can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he answers, lighting his cigar and inhaling the smoke with a heavy breath.
"Can we change the subject now?" I whisper, fidgeting on the stool because I don't want to talk about boys, men and sex.
"You read my mind. How about we show these chumps how the seasoned pros handle their booze?" Logan smirks, chomping on his cigar and ruffling my hair with a calloused hand.
I look down at my one of my gloved hands and sip from my bottle of beer, wondering how long that loose threads been living in the fabric of my hand hiders. "Logan, I need to ask you something again," I tell him, hiccuping with a frown.
"Go right ahead," he responds, draining his own beer and ordering another with a growl at the barman.
"Why are you here?" I ask quietly, turning around on my seat so I can see him properly. I watch his brow knit together and the lines form as he wonders how to answer me.
"What do you mean?" he settles on, taking his new drink and nodding at the guy who delivered it.
I'm still watching him and now he's watching me, too. "Why are you here drinking with me? I don't think the Professor sent you because you're not lecturing me. I mean, don't you have better things to do?" I gulp the last of my beer down and rest my head on the bar, closing my eyes and sighing.
"Nope, I've got nothing better to do," Logan says, plucking the bottle out my hand before I drop it. "You think you've had enough now?"
"No," I tell him, solemnly. "I can't sleep yet, he won't let me sleep."
He turns to face me with a concerned look. "Who won't? If somebody's threatened you, point me in the right direction and get out of my way."
I open my eyes and smile at him. "You have to answer my question first," I point out. "That's what polite people do. Why are you here, Logan?"
He growls and rolls his eyes. "You looked like shit in training and kept making rookie mistakes. Something was bothering you so..." He shrugs. "That's all you're getting out of me."
"Shame on you," I tease him, giggling. "You followed me here because you were worried about me."
"Yeah, you've got me, Rogue. So, spill already," Logan orders, impatiently. "What's wrong, huh?"
"David," I huff, looking away from him as I feel a pinch in my head. "It's nothing, he's nothing. Don't look at me like that because it's nothing."
His eyes narrow and he points his cigar at me. "It don't sound like nothing. Who's David?"
"Nobody you know," I whimper sadly, going to stand as the pain rocks my brain and beyond. It's hurting, it's hurting so much, and I need to run before Logan finds out what happened before and what's happening to me now.
"Might not know him, Darlin', but that doesn't mean I don't want to castrate him," Logan snorts, eyeing me. His nostrils flare and he sniffs the air, his hand reaching out to steady me. "You're scared, I can smell it on you. You gonna tell me what's wrong, eh?"
I snap my eyes closed again and start to work on David in my head. Though, I've still got enough energy to shout at Logan. "It's nothing! Stop asking me questions because it's nothing and I'm fine!" Logan's going to go to the Professor if David doesn't stop. It doesn't work so I start being nice because I've always been nice. I don't want them thinking I'm crazy, David. Please just work with me for once, please! I'll work with you if you work with me!
A great whimpering gasp rolls off my dry lips and I look up at Logan's worried, grumpy face. Look up? Oh, I'm on the floor. "It was a dizzy spell," I mutter, slowly sitting up. "Too much beer."
He raises an eyebrow and hauls me to my feet. "Up you get," he says, tossing a twenty dollar bill on the bar and steering me towards the door. "I'll save the 'don't lie to me' talk for when you're back to being a pain in the ass."
"I've got a pain in my head," I whisper to him, sniffling and gazing at my feet while the other people in the bar stare our way. "Why's life so hard?"
He throws an arm around me and guides me to his beat-up truck, hugging me to his side because it's cold outside. "It just is, Darlin', but we'll go to the Professor and give the squatter in your goddamn head a boot up the backside. That'll get him moving in the right direction," he promises.
I give him a suspicious look. "How did you know? I didn't tell anybody anything. I didn't even tell the Professor, Logan."
Logan chuckles because I'm stupid and he's not. "I'm not stupid," he tells me, adding something I needed to hear tonight. "And listen up, kid: when you go through shit in your life, you need to remember one thing."
"What's that?" I ask him, almost tripping over my own feet as I walk.
"You've gotta have a reason," he says gruffly, catching me before I fall on my face. "You have to find a reason to keep fighting on through those hard times."
I'm trying to understand what Logan's saying, but it's really hard. I don't think the beer likes me anymore. "Have you found your reason, Logan?"
"Yeah, I found it a while ago in the middle of a bar over the border," Logan answers, pulling me closer and shielding me from the wind. "She's making a habit of going to places she doesn't belong and I wish she wouldn't. If she'd talked to me instead of hightailing it into the dark, I'd have been proud of her for sticking it out and asking for help."
Snuggling against his chest, I start to feel the David fear fade away. "She's lucky to be your friend," I mutter, thinking whoever he's talking about is even more lucky than I'll ever be. "Will I get in trouble for missing curfew and getting drunk in a bar?"
"Nah, the Cajun's on perimeter check tonight. I've saved his ungrateful ass enough times, he owes me." Logan let's me go and rummages in his pocket for another cigar. "Don't know 'bout you but I could eat a moose, an elk and a Cyclops. How about we pick up a pizza on the way back?"
I smile at him as he starts to walk away while telling me to hurry up. "I've found somebody who loves pizza, too," I whisper, my smile growing into an excited grin. "Wait a minute, I've just thought of something."
"Marie, get a move on or I'm leaving you behind," Logan threatens, unlocking his truck and climbing inside it.
Logan's the only person I've ever trusted enough with my real name. Well, trusted with my real name after I ran away from Mississippi. But I wouldn't have it any other way because I'm really thinking now and I'm on to something. "Hey, you were talking about me earlier!" I shout, jogging over to his truck. My grin spreads and nearly breaks my pale face now I've completed my mission. I have a friend and I'm never going to let him go, and I don't mean in a creepy way because he's my friend and I'm his friend. Yes, I have a friend!