Written in the Stars April 13th, 1912. 10:06am by Adréa
Disclaimer: The song is from Aida, so credit to Disney. The Scarlet Pimpernel... I don't know who it belongs to now, but it was written by the Baroness Orczy. Well, everyone else seems to own the X-Men. Marvel, Fox, Warner Brothers, Universal, etc. etc. Why can't I? Look! They'll work for twinkies and beer! It's true! They did this fic for twinkies and beer. Although I had to throw in a few steaks and peeps somewhere...
Author's Notes: I tried to make it not exactly like Cameron's movie! But some things kinda snuck in there and stuck. Be prepared for suckiness! (that even a word?) Big shout out and thanks to my best friend JenN who unknowingly gave be ideas and knowingly gave me every ounce of support she could.
Author's Notes2: I don't even own Amy and Jenn for they are based on people I know. I'm currently working on another fic involving them that would go much farther into their personalities, so sorry if you don't understand things or what not because they aren't well developed in this one. Now, on with the show!
A low growl escaped his throat at the look the redhead gave him. A look of amusement at seeing Logan standing there with a book in hand. A book. He couldn't remember ever having actually touched one, let alone read the damn thing.
He'd managed to hide the fact he was reading it from Scott, but try to hide something like that from a telepath. "You know, you should return that," she told him.
Logan mumbled something that somewhat sounded like an agreement before returning to the pages. It was a romance novel, no doubts there. But it also had action, adventure, and beheadings. It was a good book so long as he skipped past the really mushy parts. At least it wasn't one of Jean's steamy novels she liked to read on occasion.
Yet the damn book wouldn't let him skip the mushy parts. He found quickly that if he did, he'd lose some of the storyline. So the mushy parts had to be read, or at least skimmed through for key elements of the story. It added even mystery to the damn thing. Probably what kept him so interested.
He cursed the book. He cursed the author. He even cursed the girl who grabbed his attention at dinner for reasons completely unknown to him. She was just a girl, no different from any other rich girl he had seen. But there was something there, something between them. Jean even knew it too. Ever since dinner she'd been slowly prodding him to go return the book and talk to her. Find out her name, since Xavier refused to tell him, saying it was something he had to find out for himself.
The fucking telepaths were out to destroy him.
And so was this goddamned book.
Every animal instinct was screaming at him to just return the book, just give it up. But fear stopped him. Fear and intrigue. Intrigue in the book, fear of actually meeting this girl. He glanced over at the redhead. "You ever read this?" he asked, holding up the book so she could see the title.
"The Scarlet Pimpernel?" She shook her head. "No, I've never even heard of it."
Without warning, he slammed the book shut. "That's it. I'm returning this piece of shit."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Jean's mouth. "Is it a piece of shit because you actually enjoyed reading what you did?"
"Damn right it is." Reaching for the coat that went with his highly uncomfortable suit, Logan put it on. "How can men wear these things?"
"You should try wearing a corset and a dress."
An irritated moan escaped his lips. If he didn't move fast, he'd be drawn into another Battle of the Sexes with Jean. What Logan hated most about those battles were that she almost always won. Scott was smart enough to always agree with his wife. But Logan wasn't married to her, and he had only known her for around six months.
If you had told Logan seven months ago that he would be working for some rich mutant and wearing uncomfortable yet expensive clothes while traveling on the biggest ship in the world. He would have laughed. Well, more like he would have looked at you as if you had just grown another head, then returned to whatever he was doing without further acknowledging your presence.
Their meeting had been simple enough. Took place in a seedy bar in Canada the young couple had somehow stumbled into. They asked for directions just at the moment an all-out brawl erupted. Logan didn't know how it had started-- Well, okay, he knew *exactly* how it had started, because he was the one that threw the first punch. But he ended up unknowingly saving the couple's lives. Afterwards, they sought him out to an even seedier place that housed penniless travelers and homeless people in return for chores.
It was then and there that the business proposition was made. At the time, anything seemed better than what he was doing, so he took it up. Plus he found it a great sport to torment Scott. Downside was that he was starting to loosen up and getting far better at comebacks.
"You just going to stand there, fuming? Or are you going to finally return the book?"
Another growl emerged as he took the book in his hands and left the cabin. Logan didn't like speaking much. He could say just as much as full sentences by simply growling a certain way. His employers were quick to learn the basic Logan'ese. Pretty soon he would have to start teaching them the harder stuff, like grunts. Then the real challenge: Glares.
Logan mused and fumed and then paused in his tracks after a few minutes of roaming. Realization dawned on him that he had no idea where the girl's quarters were, or her name to ask where they are. "Shit..." he mumbled under his breath, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid as to not thinking of this dilemma before he set out. He might have been able to get the room number from Jean or the Professor. But now his pride wouldn't let him go back and ask.
So Logan used the only choice he had. He was his own fucking Hound dog and used the book to capture the vaguely familiar scent of the girl in order to track her down to her room. It took longer than had he asked, but he kept his pride intact.
Once he arrived at the door, he found himself stalling. For the first time in his life, he actually thought about making a good first impression. Then he chided himself. His first impression to this girl would be of a weird guy staring at her from another table. So in the end, it didn't matter that much.
Tentatively, he knocked on the door and waited for a response. Checking his watch, he hoped that they weren't still asleep. No doubt they would have had a rough night after that woman's episode at dinner. That sort of thing even kept the people he worked for up most of the night, quietly discussing it among other things. Logan really didn't know what, he'd been too engrossed in the book.
Now that he thought about it, he never did find out who the Scarlet Pimpernel was. But he would bet the twenty bucks in his pocket that it was that Ffoulkes guy.
The door opening brought his attention back to present matters. It only opened a crack and an eye peeked out at him. "Can I help you?" the maid asked in a soft voice.
"Yeah..." Logan paused briefly to think on how to word it right so he might be able to speak to the girl who owned the book. "A young lady dropped this book last night, and I came to return it to her."
"Kitty? Who is it?"
Curiosity overcame Logan as he tried to see the face that belong to the voice that spoke. Even though he knew it was the girl, he wanted to see her again.
"It is a man returning a book, Miss."
The door opened all the way as the young lady came up to see him. Her chocolate eyes got bigger as she saw him and her body tensed from surprise and nervousness. "You have my book?" she asked him kindly, moving away and gesturing for him to enter.
With a nod Logan did as directed and strode into the small living room of sorts. Two sets of couches faced each other with decorative flowers, vases, lamps, and paintings were chosen to go perfectly with the coloring of the room itself. It invited a warm, soft atmosphere to it. Cheerful, yet not overwhelming.
"I am so thankful, Mister...."
"Logan."
"Mister Logan."
His trademark half-smile that he rarely ever used crept onto his face. "Just Logan. I'm not the formal type."
"Well, thank you again. I thought for certain that I had lost my favorite book and would have to wait until we reached America to buy a new one." She clenched the book in question that was handed to her tightly against her bodice.
"Maybe you should anyway. That novel looks to have seen better days."
A smile lit up on her face as a soft giggle escaped her perfectly shaped and colored lips. Logan could tell that she had yet to don any makeup, which made her look so real and pure. Even though her skin looked as if it was in desperate need of more sun.
As they stood there in a comfortable silence, they examined each other at the same time. She was dressed in a lightweight gown for the earlier day, possibly the same dress she would wear for lunch. It was white with rose trimmings and snuggled so perfectly on her petite form. Her auburn hair was done up delicately yet left the white streak to hang freely across her face. He was wearing more casual clothes than the night before. All black pants with a matching dress shirt and a dark grey coat, yet still dressed up enough to be accepted in the First Class area of the ship. But the unruly hair and sideburns he had were extreme and really didn't fit in with the upper class.
"So, you never told me your name, darlin'."
A faint tinge of red rose to her cheeks at the term he addressed her or embarrassment, or both. "Ah'm sorry. Marie Darkholme."
"'Ah'm'?" he repeated. Marie hadn't had an accent a moment ago.
"Yah... Ah'm from tha' Southern part of America... sometimes get an accent."
His half-smile broke out more into a grin the more she blushed. "What sets it off?"
"Well..." She got even redder and turned her face away shyly to try and hide it. She let the sentence linger in the air, hoping he didn't press her further to answer it.
As much as he'd like to, he figured he'd let her go that time for it. "Well, Miss Marie. I returned your book and got your name. It would be my pleasure to see you again." Good God... that was the most he'd ever been proper. And it wasn't stopping there. Gently, he pulled away one of her gloved hands from her novel to kiss the back of it. His lips lingering perhaps a bit longer than they should have.
Her breath hitched at the pleasant, yet small contact, even through the gloves. "Will..." her voice betrayed her and she was forced to swallow and try again. "Will you be there for lunch?"
"I wasn't planning on it. But if you'll be there, I will too."
That wonderful smile of hers that lit up her whole face and livened up her soul appeared again. They stood like that for who knows how long, staring at each other while he absentmindedly rubbed her hand with his thumb.
Logan let go of her hand and started to move away. Were it not for his keen sense of hearing, he wouldn't have heard the small whimper that came from Marie as he did. "I'll see you then," he told her as he left the room. Even though they both didn't want to separate, it was for her own good at least. Some of the thoughts straying into his head were becoming too tempting to resist.
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