Unspoken: Truth Will Out

Truth Will Out
by Victoria P.

Rating: R

Summary: "You know how much I loathe seeing you get hurt, Marie, but I feel there's something you need to know."

Timeline: Concurrent with Traumas, after Unexpected, just before Dear Marie and Five Minutes

Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete, Dot, and Meg. Big gushy thanks to Laura, with whom I figured this all out on AIM the other night.

Date: November 16, 2001

She felt like she couldn't breathe. Logan's lips were everywhere, leaving her gasping in pleasure. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples, as his tongue thrust into her mouth, giving her a preview of how his body would soon meld with hers.

She ran her hands through his hair, over his heavily-muscled shoulders and chest, reveling in the feel of his thick hair against her palms. Her legs fell open naturally, cradling him against her body, and she rocked up against him, trying to get closer.

Skin. So much bare, warm, wonderful skin, sliding against her body, driving her wild with desire. She didn't know where their clothes had gone, but she wasn't going to question it now.

When he released her lips to suckle at her breast, she murmured, "Logan," feeling pleasure arc from her nipple to her groin.

"Marie," he growled, moving to her other breast and sucking greedily, as if he couldn't get enough of her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and after a slow, rapturous slide into her warmth, he was pistoning into her, their grunts and groans a rhythmic counterpoint to the banging of the headboard against the wall.

A sound that seemed get louder, the closer she came to release.

"Marie! Marie, you in there?"

Though the haze of desire, she heard Hank calling her name.

Why the *hell* was he interrupting this devoutly wished-for consummation? She was going to kill him if she didn't come because he was distracting her..

"Marie, open up. It is I, Hank. I would like to discuss this broken betrothal, if you please."

Rogue's eyes snapped open.

She looked around wildly, but she was alone. Dammit, that dream was probably the closest I'm ever going to get to sex with Logan.

She was still clutching his dogtags in one hand.

"Hang on a minute, Hank, will ya?" she yelled. "I fell asleep."

Pulling on the discarded sweats she'd worn before her ill-fated attempt to seduce Logan, she opened the door. "This had better be good, Blue," she snapped. "Because I was having the best dream--"

"I've just spoken with Scott," he replied.

She sighed and stepped out of the way to let him enter the room. "I guess you better come in, then."

She settled back on the bed as he sat down at the desk and looked at her over the rim of his glasses.

"Are you all right?"

She licked her lips. "I'm fine, Hank. I was just having a--"

"Dream. Yes. Did it concern, how shall I put this delicately? That man?" His nose wrinkled in a moue of distaste on the last words.

She felt herself blush and cursed her skin, for once not because of her mutation, but because of the porcelain complexion she was usually so proud of. She always had to wear her embarrassments in plain sight because of it. "That's none of your business, Hank! And, and, his name is Logan."

Hank nodded. "I see. This is worse than I thought. You are quite smitten with him."

"He's very attractive," she allowed.

Hank rose and began pacing. "Scott mentioned that he feels a connection with this woman, Jean. Do you feel the same about that man?"

She had to stifle a smile at the way Hank made the words "that man" sound like a vile epithet. "I think there might be something between us," she said slowly. "I know he wants me. I got that from when we touched on the lake." She turned away, still blushing. "I -- I want him too," she whispered. Hank was one of her closest friends, but he was like a big brother. She'd never been comfortable discussing sex with him, and now, with his dislike of Logan so evident, she felt really weird.

"I think so," she said, trying the words on. "Yes. I'm quite smitten with him," she affirmed.

"And this is why your troth did not plight?"

"No need to get Faulknerian, Hank," she chided, but with a smile. "Scott and I made a mutual decision to end our engagement." He looked at her, the question obvious in his eyes.

"That is the tale you wish to tell?"

"Yup."

"And that man -- he had nothing to do with it?"

"Only in the sense of his bringing that woman here." Two could play that game, and it was kind of fun, actually, to allow her still-simmering resentment toward Jean an outlet.

She could practically see the wheels turning in Hank's head. He was brilliant, but he wasn't necessarily sly, especially when concerned about her. He tended to charge ahead like a bull in a china shop whenever she was in trouble, demanding answers and generally making a nuisance of himself to whomever he perceived to be her persecutors.

"I know you don't like him, Hank," she said, "but he's a good man. He meant well. And oh, he has hidden depths. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

It was as if a light bulb went off over Hank's head. "Hidden depths, yes," he muttered. "That's it." He sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand. "You know how much I loathe seeing you get hurt, Marie, but I feel there's something you need to know."

She felt a slight chill of foreboding as she said, "Yes?"

He took a deep breath. "Some of the children have started a wager. On whether you and Scott will get back together, or if, instead, each of you will choose a new -- ahem -- bed partner within the next three weeks."

She nodded, unsurprised. "Jubes and Johnny, right?"

"You knew?"

"Nah, but it figures. If I weren't involved, I'm sure I'd have money in it. Jubilee has a future as a bookie. I have family in Mississippi who'd love her. What are my odds and who am I supposed to end up with?"

He gently squeezed the hand he was still holding. "That's the crux of the matter, I fear, my dear. You see, even though he is involved in it, Logan has rather confidently wagered a large sum that he will have debauched you at the end of the time period specified."

She sucked in a breath, feeling the anger she'd recently thought dissipated welling up again. "Really?" she asked in a tone that could cut glass.

"Yes. Unfortunately, that is not all."

She pulled her hand from his grasp and stood, wrapping her arms around herself. "There's more." It was not a question.

"Well, Scott has indicated that he believes he will be successful in inveigling the doctor into his bed. His very words were, 'if I were you, I'd put money down on me and Jean,'"

"That weaselly motherfucker," she said, her voice remarkably level considering how angry she was now.

"Which one?" Hank inquired delicately.

"Does it matter? God, how could I be so stupid?" Her voice rose steadily. "I send Scott off to 'find his destiny' and fling myself at Logan and the two of them are betting money on who can get into whose pants first?" She picked up a crystal picture frame holding a photo of Scott, a candid shot that caught his cocky grin perfectly. "Fuck that, Hank. I'm done with this, this bullshit." These last words were punctuated with the sound of the frame hitting the wall and shattering into a million shards, much like her heart -- no, her pride -- was doing. She refused to believe her heart was at all involved. She was just like the men. It was all a game, and she would be the ultimate winner.

"Marie," Hank said, edging out of her way as she looked for more breakables to throw.

"I'm the one who's stunod," she ranted. "I'm the idiot who believed that, that gavonne when he quoted poetry and drew me pictures. I'm the idiot who thought he could actually want more from me than a quick fuck." She nodded, her jaw clenched. "Thanks, Hank." It was clearly a dismissal, and he took it as such, casting her one last concerned look as he left her room.

She went to the desk, then, and rummaged around, looking for her credit cards and extra cash. She wasn't sticking around if she could help it. She wasn't sure if she was angriest with Scott and Logan, for making a fool of her, or herself for believing them. She could hear them all over again, this time the mockery evident under the honeyed words.

"I love you and want to be friends again," Scott had said.

"You're beautiful and I want to touch you," Logan had said.

Apparently, she was wearing a "Kick me" sign on her forehead, visible only to assholes looking to hurt her. But no more, she thought, even as a small voice inside her admitted she still wanted Logan, and would probably still sleep with him if he offered. God, she was pathetic.

Her glove snagged on a pen, and she ripped her hand out of the drawer, flinging papers everywhere.

Right on top, as if destiny were taking a hand, landed a letter she'd gotten the day before, postmarked Ossining. There was only one person who could be writing her from there, and she'd had no desire to read whatever poison Magneto was trying to spread.

But now she was curious. What did the sly old devil have to say to her, that she didn't already know from absorbing him?

Pulling her glove off with her teeth, she used her thumbnail to slit open the envelope. Unfolding the letter, she sat down and read.

***

Notes: Ossining is about 25 miles south of Salem Center in Westchester; Sing Sing Prison is located there.

"Stunod" is Southern Italian dialect for "stupid" or having one's head in the clouds and not paying attention, from the Italian "stonato" which means, "out of tune"

"Gavonne" is Southern Italian dialect for "cafone" which literally means "country man" but idiomatically it's a nasty insult, calling someone a barbarian, a pig, a person of no redeeming social value.

~*~

Dear Marie by Pollyanna

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Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.