An Unusual Situation

Part II: Somewhat Simple

by jenn

*****

She looked like she'd fall apart if he let her go, so he kept his grip on her arm as they approached the house. Her cloak hood was pulled up to almost conceal her face from view, though he could see, even in the dark, the rather blank, fixed stare of her eyes. He got the distinct impression that if he hadn't been practically dragging her, she would still be standing out in the snow, staring at the burned remains of the camper.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was *not* what he'd had in mind for today.

It wasn't enough that he had to get caught out in a bar in Laughlin. No, of course not. When his luck went bad, it went fucking bad. It wasn't enough that he lost the camper. It wasn't enough that he was attacked and God knew, this time he hadn't even known why. It wasn't even enough that he'd stolen a car--though strictly speaking, that had been kinda fun. Now he was dragging around a sixteen-seventeen-whatever year old kid with no clue what the hell to do with her. Except leaving her wasn't an option and he was working to keep from figuring out why.

"Relax." God, he hoped he wasn't growling--he knew the signs of shock when he saw them and had no idea what he'd do if she collapsed now. Little girls were a mystery that he'd spent all his known life avoiding. Marie nodded jerkily--the hood moved in a vaguely rhythmic fashion, anyway, so close enough--and he let out a breath. Shit. What the fuck was he supposed to do with her? Staring at the house, he reviewed what little he'd been able to come up with in the space of a frantic three hour drive.

This was option one. And fuck him if he had an option two.

He pounded on the door with one gloved hand, hard enough to get Marie's startled attention, and she started to back away. Shit. Without stopping, he jerked her back, not quite comfortable having her more than a few inches from him yet, especially exposed like this. Whoever the hell had attacked them was licking his wounds, yeah, but Logan, paranoid by nature, didn't want to take any chances. She shivered and he turned a quick glance down at her.

"God, kid, what the hell do ya think I'm gonna do to you?"

{Good question, kiddo. Jump into my camper and then worry when I take you to a house in the middle of nowhere.} How she'd survived this long was a mystery, deadly skin or not.

Mutely, she shook her head and took a step closer, then slid half-behind him, a shield between her and the door. A light brush of her hair against the back of his neck when she lifted on her toes to glance over his shoulder, then quickly back down.

Sixteen-seventeen-way too fucking young to be on her own, no question.

"Trust me." Though something in him just sat down in utter shock that he was telling someone that and actually meaning it.

A little sound that could have been a laugh or a sob emerged from behind him.

"I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" Slightly mocking, of herself, of her situation, maybe of her life at this point, and he really couldn't blame her for that. Then a soft sigh. "I'm sorry. I know I'm causin' you trouble--"

"You certainly are. Shoulda left you on the side of the road in the first place." Though something in him chilled at what she would have faced alone--whoever the fucker had been who attacked her--or him, he still wasn't sure. Whoever the hell had caused this entire fucking mess--that guy was on Logan's shit-list big time. Right at the top, slice and dice the bastard into two inch strips he'd use for fucking confetti.

"Marie--"

Soft sounds from inside interrupted what he was about to say and he paused, feeling her fingers come up to take a grip on the edge of his jacket. Closing his eyes briefly, he took in the soft rustle of a robe being put on, bare feet pounding against carpet-covered wood, soft muttering that made him grin a little despite himself.

Of all the things he could have imagined he'd be doing, he'd never thought he'd be coming back here anytime soon. And he guessed she'd be thinking the same thing.

"Who the fuck--" the door opened and a tousled blonde head emerged, and Logan looked into startled green eyes. Gorgeous eyes, he'd thought so the first time he saw her, eyes that touched something unremembered from his past. They widened, taking him in. "*Logan*?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"In the flesh, darlin'."

There were two possible receptions he could get, depending on her mood--luckily, terry-cloth covered arms latched themselves around his neck and very soft, very clinging lips were on his, and he wrapped an arm around her, lifting her from her feet. Nice--his day was getting better by the second.

And a soft grunt behind him reminded him, unfortunately, that the fun stuff would have to wait.

"Jamie," he said, setting her down with some regret. Her arms lingered and one hand slid against his neck as she withdrew to stand in the doorway, looking up at him with an interesting cross between surprise and pleasure, arms wrapped around herself against the cold.

"Didn't think I'd see ya for awhile," she said softly, then shook her head. "Whatcha doin' in these parts, baby?"

Jamie wasn't beautiful. But he'd liked her the first time he met her--she was one of the few he'd kept any sort of contact with since meeting her in a bar in Atlantic City, where she'd been one of the most expensive hookers he'd ever fucked. Got him out of a nasty situation and to her apartment, where she'd been remarkably blase about the knowledge he was a mutant. Which, he speculated, in her line of work, probably wasn't that unusual. They'd left town together and she'd come with him as far as Calgary, where she found her True Calling, as she called it, and bought this nice piece of out of the way property.

Very out of the way. Not a decent road in sight, and he knew she liked it that way. And the remoteness was growing on him by leaps and bounds.

"Got a little problem." Carefully, he pried the reluctant Marie out from behind him and Jamie's eyes widened a little. "This is Rogue. Rogue, Jamie."

Green eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she studied the girl, then came up to meet his. Suspicious. {Shit, Jamie, give me some credit here.}

"She's a little young--"

"It ain't like that." Though he sighed to himself, remembering the girl in Winnipeg who'd been literally on the right edge of legal. Apparently, she remembered too, from the narrow look. "Look, can we come in or not? She's gettin' cold." Though he suspected that Marie's shivering had less to do with the cold than with fear--post reaction stress. A second of hesitation, then Jamie stepped back, eyes fixed on the girl. Softening a little, and he blew out a breath. Maternal instincts. Let 'em work in his favor. Or in Marie's, anyway.

"Come on in."

The comfortable warmth and relative security of the house surrounded him and Logan began to feel himself relax. He took off his jacket once inside and turned Marie around--shock definitely, and she wasn't going to last much longer, the fear scent on her was beginning to make him dizzy. Carefully, he disattached her grip from the edge of his jacket, dropping it on a chair, then untied her wet cloak, trying to figure out what to do if she collapsed right now.

He was never meant to handle adolescent girls, no sir.

"Rogue?" Jamie said softly, and Marie's eyes flew to see Jamie close behind her back. Instantly, and Logan knew he'd never seen anyone move so fast, Marie was behind him, one arm slightly outstretched against Jamie's hands. Jamie stared up at him and he read the startled questions in her eyes.

"We had some trouble," he said shortly. "I'll explain later. She--"

"Needs to rest." Whatever she wanted to ask, it'd wait. Thank God. "Come here, honey--I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" Gentle voice, soothing, soft. Trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

He was getting used to prying Marie out--he wondered if that should bother him. Looking down into the frightened eyes, he tried a smile--tried to remember how one worked--and hoped for the best.

"Rogue, go with Jamie." A little shake of her shoulders that he hoped would startle her out of wherever her blank expression was locking her in her memories. "You're safe here, okay? Trust me. Jamie--" he paused, trying to find a way to explain Marie's condition, then failed and sighed to himself. This was getting fucking annoying, that's what. He settled for the simple. "She doesn't like to be touched."

Jade eyes widened again but she nodded, apparently willing to leave it there for now. Reluctantly, Marie freed his shirt and, at his sharp nod, slowly followed Jamie to the stairs. Then spun, suddenly, the cloak flying around her, hood falling to her shoulders. Looking at him with huge, terrified eyes.

"You'll stay, right?" And it must have taken a lot out of her to ask, and he knew that feeling, knew what she'd dropped in pride to say it. He nodded slowly and he could smell her relax and follow Jamie with a little more enthusiasm.

Not much, but a little.

It was ten minutes before Jamie met him in the kitchen, where he'd already availed himself of her refrigerator. Perched herself on a stool, looked right at him, hands flat on the table. Her no-bullshit look. Very Jamie.

"Who is she?"

Fair question.

"A runaway." Her eyebrows arched. "Yeah, below age, and yeah, I know what the fuck I'm doing, and no, I'm not fucking her. You should know better than that."

A slight hint of a smile. Damn, she should. He wasn't in the habit of screwing around with kids, Winnipeg being the completely unwitting exception.

"I do know better than that. What's her story?"

He paused and took a bite, trying to consider a way to broach the problem.

"She's a mutant, ain't she?" she said bluntly. Jamie was a smart girl. He'd always known that.

"Yeah."

"No touch has somethin' to do with it?"

He nodded again.

"All right. Why's she with you?"

Toughie. Jamie knew him too well. He took a breath, considering how he'd answer, knowing Jamie as well as he did.

"Picked her up in Laughlin." Considered how he'd phrase this. "We were attacked--someone wants one of us and didn't really seem to care what condition we were in when they got us." Another pause. "I needed somewhere to go until I could figure out what the hell to do with her. I can't just leave her on the side of the road." Though he almost had. Fuck it, he had almost left her, and that would probably haunt him for awhile. Logan stared down at the plate for a moment, regaining his careful detachment, wondering where the hell it had gone in the first place. Like he needed more nightmares. Like he wanted the responsibility of those dark eyes that looked at him like he was the Second Coming.

The memory came suddenly, the way she'd looked at him when he pulled her from that burning camper, the grip of gloved fingers on his arms, the way those arms went around him with desperate strength, burying her head against his jacket, instinctively avoiding exposed skin. He'd thought she was going to cry but she hadn't, shaking with repressed sobs, and he remembered what she'd said about her mutation and how long must've been avoiding human touch.

To his surprise, that was a memory he liked--and fuck, that was just sick.

The green eyes studied him for several long seconds and he turned his head from the unnerving gaze, taking another bite. Briskly, she stood up, walking by him to the refrigerator, the edge of her robe brushing his arm. Taking a breath, he smelled her fear, just below concern and a little frustration.

"Look, if I had anywhere else to take her, you think I'd bring her here?" He knew he sounded defensive--well, because he was defensive.

A pause while she opened the fridge. Then a soft sigh.

"Yeah, I know. Were you followed?"

"Nope. Whoever the hell it was, he's not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

Maybe she saw the look of satisfaction on his face and he caught himself rubbing his knuckles without thinking. That'd been a damned good fight.

"Ah." He turned to watch her rummage through the shelves, pulling out a covered bowl and the milk. "All right. How long do you want me to keep her?"

"Until I can find someplace safe for her."

The fridge closed and she crossed behind him, putting the bowl in the microwave and setting the time with quick flicks of her fingers.

Safe. Interesting idea, with that damned Mutant Registration Act. No, nowhere safe in America, not for someone like her, not if that damned thing passed. She wasn't one of the muties that would be able to pass as normal, either. They'd sweep her right up. Shit.

"What about her parents?"

Good question. Logan finished up the first sandwich and shook his head.

"She's been runnin' for eight months. If she could go back, she would."

The wide green eyes came up, startled.

"Eight months? She's just a kid--how the hell--"

"Yeah." He wondered about that too--maybe he'd ask her someday about that. Though that look on her face--hell, he knew that look, had seen it on his own more than once. She'd lost everything that ever meant anything to her and she was still trying. And at her age--he shook his head, staring down at the plate.

Empathy wasn't his specialty.

As Jamie made a sandwich, Logan started on his second one, watching her covertly as she put a tray together--sandwich, milk, soup, everything a starving mutant girl needed. Then paused, sitting down again. "She's in the shower--I left her some clothes. Logan--" she trailed off and he saw her stare down at her hands. "Look--"

"I'll pay you whatever you want, Jamie."

She gave him a frustrated look.

"I haven't worried about money for years, so that's not a problem. Is she *gonna* stay? The last thing I need is to be huntin' her up if she takes it into her head to run--much less get caught with an underage runaway--or a mutant--I don't want or need that kind of attention and you know it."

"She won't." And he'd have a talk with her to make sure of that, too. Jamie sighed softly, nodding, and Logan let out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it--and I'll take hers too. How long you gonna stay?"

"Tonight. I'll leave tomorrow, try gettin' some answers."

"Nope. Day after tomorrow, you go." She smirked at his surprise. "If she's gonna be here, I gotta do some shopping. She ain't got anything to wear and I'm sure as hell not gonna leave that little thing all alone out here. Unless, of course, you wanna go." She snickered at his growl. "Didn't think so."

"I'll give you money."

"I can cover it--"

"She's mine--my responsibility." He finished up the second sandwich and Jamie grinned oddly, then picking up the tray. "I'll take care of it."

"As you wish, darlin'."

* * * * *

Jamie found Rogue standing uncertainly in the center of the spare bedroom, damp hair brushed and pulled into an uncertain ponytail, wet tail trailing over one flannel-coated shoulder. Her hands and the arms beneath the pajamas Jamie had hunted up were encased in the long gloves, which needed to be washed badly. From the look of them, they were already ruined.

Somehow, she just didn't think the kid would strip them, though.

"Rogue?" She kept her voice low, gentle, not wanting to startle someone whose nerves were already shot. The girl's head snapped up and Jamie felt the dark eyes follow her with the wariness of a trapped animal as she crossed the room and set the tray on the bed. Trust issues--not a surprise, eight months was a long time for a kid her age.

"Thank you," the girl whispered. The steady gaze was unnerving--with Logan's information, however, it made sense, in a way.

"You hungry, honey?" she asked, noticing the girl made no move to approach the tray. After a moment of thought, Jamie realized why--human proximity. With a casual smile, she backed to a chair and sat down, and was rewarded with Rogue slowly walking to the bed and taking a seat. With an apologetic look, the girl attacked the food with both glove-encased hands.

Which gave Jamie the perfect opportunity to study her.

Mutant--Jamie had seen her share, both the kind that could pass and the ones that never could. Rogue displayed the usual characteristics of her kind--light paranoia, nervous energy, suspicion, and some signs of shock--probably from the attack that Jamie had neglected to ask much about.

Rogue. Obviously not her real name, just as obviously Logan had decided to let her keep it a secret. Understandable.

"How long has it been since you ate properly, honey?" she said, as Rogue finished off the sandwich, wiping her fingers distractedly on the napkin she'd carefully spread on her lap before beginning. Dark eyes came up, narrowing just a little. Then changed, growing steadily thoughtful.

"A coupla weeks," she answered carefully, dipping her spoon into the soup. Eyes went back down. "Ran out of money."

Money made the world go 'round, Jamie had always known that. She leaned back, keeping her posture carefully casual, as if it was every day people dropped on her doorstep with little girls in tow. Rogue was all raw nerves and energy--Jamie looked her over with expert eyes, used to evaluating young girls for their potential money-making capacity. The soft old flannel hung around the girl in heavy folds, revealing a thin body that would border on emaciation soon given the slightest chance. Also nicely obscured her actual age--Jamie would bet that the girl was at least seventeen, though anyone looking at her would drop her in fifteen easy. Traces of baby-fat in her face already been whittled slowly away, and she didn't miss the circles beneath the dark eyes, coated carefully in make-up. Pride. The girl hadn't wanted anyone to see what kind of condition she was in. Didn't like pity.

Jamie could understand that. She'd bet that Logan did too.

"So why aren't you with your folks, honey?"

The spoon dropped with a clatter into the now-empty bowl and Marie jerked, looking up. The whole thin body went tense.

"They don't want me."

It was dropped between them, a single defiant statement that demanded no response. The suspicion was back in force, and Jamie decided that was enough questions for the evening. The girl finished off her milk hurriedly, and Jamie gave a quick glance to the tray--empty.

"Are you still hungry, darlin'?" she asked, and Rogue quickly shook her head, wiping fingers and mouth quickly before neatly folding the napkin and placing it back on the tray.

"No, ma'am, thank you." She shifted slightly, preparing to get the tray herself, but Jamie intercepted her, and she watched the girl's entire body jerk away as she picked it up.

"None of that. I'm Jamie, always have been." Though Madam had once been an appropriate enough title, and that made her smile a little in memory. "Get some sleep, honey. You look exhausted."

Brown eyes suddenly dug into her.

"Is--is Logan still here?"

Interesting. She checked the clenched hands, wanting suddenly to cover them with her own, take that look of naked fear off her face. It was unexpected--she'd seen too many girls like this in her life to be moved by it anymore, had been one herself more years ago than she cared to count.

"He's here, sweetheart." Smiled gently. "You'll see him in the morning, okay? Now go to sleep." She didn't miss the relaxation in the girl's body and smiled again. "Good night, honey."

She watched Rogue climb into the bed with a child's enthusiasm, wondering how long it'd been since she'd had someplace safe to sleep--and again, that unexpected shaft of compassion. As the girl laid down, she flipped the light off, closing the door, knowing somewhere in her the girl would get up to check and see if it was locked.

That only made her like her more.

* * * * *