Wolverine/Rogue - One Shot
Title: Tags
Fandom: X-Men (Movie)
Author: deep_salt_water
Pairing/Character: Wolverine/Rogue (Rogue POV)
Disclaimer: The X-Men aren’t mine; they belong to Marvel and 20th Century Fox.
Word Count: 571
Rating: G
Summary: Rogue reflects on her relationship with Logan.
Placement: Post X2.
Spoilers/Warnings: X2 - just in case no one has seen it.
A/N: This is just one of those things that doesn't really fit anywhere. It's the only thing I have ever written in the first person but for some reason it just had to be done that way.
Thanks to feeferj for the feedback.
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Sometimes I wonder whether returning Logan’s tags was the right thing to do.
It’s selfish, I know but I can’t help it.
We don’t talk anymore; we hardly even spend five minutes in each other’s company. Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t even want to look at me, like he can’t bear it.
I don’t understand what changed.
He was supposed to be my protector.
And I thought he was my friend. Hell, I thought I was in love with him.
Maybe I still am. Maybe that’s why this hurts so much.
I was so happy when he returned. I mean he was back; he was going to be at the mansion again.
And then all hell broke loose. But we don’t need to talk about that.
What matters is that I gave the tags back, and all of a sudden I didn’t matter.
Maybe he thought Bobby would take care of me.
And then Jean died.
I knew he cared for her, maybe even loved her. And in a strange way I feel sorry for her. Sorry that she couldn’t quite see Logan for what he was-more than the bad boy, more than a distraction.
I feel sorry for Logan too. Sorry that he never got to be with her, and sorry that she had to die.
After her death we had even less to do with each other. The selfish part in me hoped that her death would bring us closer, get things back to the way they were.
I’m a horrible person, I know.
But having Logan in my head isn’t enough. I need Logan in the flesh, next to me, with me.
I don’t care if it’s nothing more than friendship, I’ll take anything.
Anything is better than being ignored.
He was the only one who would come near me with my skin. He showed no fear. He even brought me back to life.
Twice.
Not something a girl forgets easily. Well, certainly not with a constant reminder having taken up residence inside my mind.
Damn I miss him.
I miss the rare times he’d look at me and smile.
I miss the smell of his cigars, and I miss the feel of his denim jacket against my cheek.
I miss hearing him growl in frustration when I accuse him of caring about the kids in this school.
I miss his smirk; and the way he’d raise an eyebrow when he didn’t believe what I was saying, and how that one simple gesture made me confess all my secrets.
Well, not all.
Maybe I’m not denied seeing these things, but it ain’t the same when it’s not directed at me.
I just don’t understand what changed.
So, yes, sometimes I wonder whether giving the tags back was the right thing to do, because maybe he saw it as me letting him go-releasing him from his promise; releasing him from me.
And so I sit here waiting.
Waiting for him to finally be able to be with me without glancing around for an excuse to get away.
Waiting for him to realise that maybe, just maybe, I mean something to him; that I wasn’t some obligation that he’s fulfilled.
Waiting for the day he smiles again when he sees me.
Waiting for him to realise that while I’m no longer a child, I still need him.
Waiting for the day I can call him mine again.
Fandom: X-Men (Movie)
Author: deep_salt_water
Pairing/Character: Wolverine/Rogue (Rogue POV)
Disclaimer: The X-Men aren’t mine; they belong to Marvel and 20th Century Fox.
Word Count: 571
Rating: G
Summary: Rogue reflects on her relationship with Logan.
Placement: Post X2.
Spoilers/Warnings: X2 - just in case no one has seen it.
A/N: This is just one of those things that doesn't really fit anywhere. It's the only thing I have ever written in the first person but for some reason it just had to be done that way.
Thanks to feeferj for the feedback.
________________________________
Sometimes I wonder whether returning Logan’s tags was the right thing to do.
It’s selfish, I know but I can’t help it.
We don’t talk anymore; we hardly even spend five minutes in each other’s company. Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t even want to look at me, like he can’t bear it.
I don’t understand what changed.
He was supposed to be my protector.
And I thought he was my friend. Hell, I thought I was in love with him.
Maybe I still am. Maybe that’s why this hurts so much.
I was so happy when he returned. I mean he was back; he was going to be at the mansion again.
And then all hell broke loose. But we don’t need to talk about that.
What matters is that I gave the tags back, and all of a sudden I didn’t matter.
Maybe he thought Bobby would take care of me.
And then Jean died.
I knew he cared for her, maybe even loved her. And in a strange way I feel sorry for her. Sorry that she couldn’t quite see Logan for what he was-more than the bad boy, more than a distraction.
I feel sorry for Logan too. Sorry that he never got to be with her, and sorry that she had to die.
After her death we had even less to do with each other. The selfish part in me hoped that her death would bring us closer, get things back to the way they were.
I’m a horrible person, I know.
But having Logan in my head isn’t enough. I need Logan in the flesh, next to me, with me.
I don’t care if it’s nothing more than friendship, I’ll take anything.
Anything is better than being ignored.
He was the only one who would come near me with my skin. He showed no fear. He even brought me back to life.
Twice.
Not something a girl forgets easily. Well, certainly not with a constant reminder having taken up residence inside my mind.
Damn I miss him.
I miss the rare times he’d look at me and smile.
I miss the smell of his cigars, and I miss the feel of his denim jacket against my cheek.
I miss hearing him growl in frustration when I accuse him of caring about the kids in this school.
I miss his smirk; and the way he’d raise an eyebrow when he didn’t believe what I was saying, and how that one simple gesture made me confess all my secrets.
Well, not all.
Maybe I’m not denied seeing these things, but it ain’t the same when it’s not directed at me.
I just don’t understand what changed.
So, yes, sometimes I wonder whether giving the tags back was the right thing to do, because maybe he saw it as me letting him go-releasing him from his promise; releasing him from me.
And so I sit here waiting.
Waiting for him to finally be able to be with me without glancing around for an excuse to get away.
Waiting for him to realise that maybe, just maybe, I mean something to him; that I wasn’t some obligation that he’s fulfilled.
Waiting for the day he smiles again when he sees me.
Waiting for him to realise that while I’m no longer a child, I still need him.
Waiting for the day I can call him mine again.