FIC: Magnolia (1/5) (AB.X-Men)
Feb. 22nd, 2006 08:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mhalachaiThat's right. An Anita Blake/X-men crossover. Phear. Also, tell me if I'm crazy.
Magnolia part 1 of 5
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. Marvel and 20th Century Fox own all things X-Men. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: Picking up strays wasn't Logan's thing, especially after what happened up in Alberta. So why is he so intent on that strange woman next to him at the bar? (Set just after the first X-men movie, and about a half a year after Incubus Dreams. No spoilers beyond that book.)
Note: If you squint, you'll see it's sort of Logan/Rogue, which is strange since I've been a shipper for that pairing since about five o'clock this afternoon. For the anonymous person who wanted some Anita/X-Men action in the Fanfic Fiasco III. Why am I setting this in Mississippi? I have no idea.
Rating: Bordering on R for sex and stuff. Come on, folks, it's an Anita Blake crossover.
~~*~~
"What'll ya have?"
Logan slid onto the bar stool, sparing the bartender a glance as he took in the half-filled room. "Beer."
The man, sporting a wife-beater and the mullet that seemed to be everywhere in this Mississippi town, fished a bottle from a sink of ice at his side, and pushed it across the bar to Logan. A bottle opener landed on the counter a second later.
Logan raised an eyebrow at the idea of customer service in this town, but popped the cap off his beer without a word and took a swig. He wished he had another cigar, but damned if Canada was the only place that carried Cubans for cheap. At least the beer was cold.
The bartender, seemingly reassured that Logan wasn't about to cause a ruckus, went back to his comic book.
Logan stifled a snort, not that he was amused. He'd arrived in this place, about six miles from Utica, just off the interstate, only to find the person he needed to see was out of town for a funeral. Just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished, Logan thought in disgust.
Gradually, as the thick darkness fell outside and the bar filled with locals and passers-by, and Logan's bar tab grew, his thoughts turned away from mundane, and tangled up with what had happened in New York, three weeks before.
Xavier had given him as much information as he could find, about Alkali Lake. Logan didn't hold out too much hope he'd find anything there; fifteen years was a long time to be without a past. He wasn't going to let himself get all optimistic. Not yet.
Information hadn't been all that Xavier gave him. Logan wasn't all that interested in banks, had spent living hand to mouth for a decade, never really needing a place to put money. When his camper blew up, well, that had been the end of that. When he left the mansion, Xavier had handed him a stack of money, not enough to insult him, just enough to tide him over. Hell, for all Xavier knew, Logan could have taken the money and run.
Probably poking around in my head before I left, though.
For the hundredth time, Logan wondered if he was being a fool, in coming down here like this. Making a promise is one thing, but trying to follow it up after twelve years? He'd never acted this way before. Maybe he could blame this whole thing on that idiot Scott. It seemed like the kind of noble thing he'd do.
"Is this seat taken?"
"No," Logan answered automatically. It was only after he'd spoken, that his mind put female and young to the voice. Don't want no damned company, he thought, turning to tell the girl to get lost.
The tiny woman who hopped up on the bar stool next to Logan gave him a brief smile, but the next moment her attention turned to the room. Logan went back to his beer, trying to figure out what bothered him about the woman. She looked young, fresh, with pale milky skin and a barely contained mane of black curly hair. She sure as hell didn't look like a local.
She's looking for something, Logan realized after a moment. She accepted a drink from the bartender, then leaned back against the bar, gazing out at the room. Cautiously, Logan smelled the air, and nearly choked on his beer.
That drink she was holding was just a cola, no booze, and from the smell of the gun oil in the air, she was hiding a weapon somewhere on her.
Now, Logan hadn't gotten a good look when she came in, but her clothes were tight enough to have to be tailored to hide any telltale bulge, which told him that she wasn't new at this.
Sure, a lot of women probably carried guns around down here, but they probably didn't do their best to look so damned fragile. She reminded Logan a lot of Marie, with the delicateness, but hiding steel underneath.
The woman at his side fended off a few polite, and a couple of not-so-polite, propositions, while Logan polished off another beer. She wasn't rude or anything; the guys just sort of melted back away. Logan wondered if they were picking up on that vibe coming off her, the promise of intoxicating danger, hidden underneath the china doll exterior.
Then someone passed behind Logan, and he froze. Instinctively, the muscles in his arms flexed, sending his claw forward a fraction, just enough to hurt, not enough to break the skin.
Vampire.
Not that Logan had anything against vampires, as a whole. The ones that bothered him, like that one in Anchorage that tried to roll him and leave him bled out on the snow, well, them he had problems with. But really, they were just like people, and mutants. Some were just fine, and some were just as eager to rip you to pieces as look at you.
The woman tensed, like a lynx on the trail of prey, as the vampire passed, although Logan doubted the creature noticed. Watching in the bar's mirror, Logan watched as the creature and the one behind it mixed in with the crowd. They were good at passing for human, he'd give them that. Their skin was almost pink, their mannerisms almost alive.
Well, they were legal now, like it or not. More legal than mutants like him, especially after Magneto's stunt in New York. Vampires were free to wander around rural Southern bars, just like anyone else.
Nursing his beer, Logan pretended to watch the sports game on the tiny television behind the bar. The room got more full as the night wore on, with the cheap liquor flowing freely. The two vampires pretended to be human, but after an hour, they left, alone.
They hadn't even cleared the doorway when the woman jumped down from her stool and, throwing a bill on the bar, headed after them.
Logan stayed where he was. It wasn't any business of his what that stupid little girl was up to. Didn't matter to him if she was going after two vampires in the dark with only a gun. She was walking into the fight, her choice. He was done with this business of picking up dangerous little strays in bars.
He managed to sit still for a whole minute, before he threw some cash on the counter and took off after her.
TO BE CONTINUED
Magnolia part 1 of 5
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. Marvel and 20th Century Fox own all things X-Men. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: Picking up strays wasn't Logan's thing, especially after what happened up in Alberta. So why is he so intent on that strange woman next to him at the bar? (Set just after the first X-men movie, and about a half a year after Incubus Dreams. No spoilers beyond that book.)
Note: If you squint, you'll see it's sort of Logan/Rogue, which is strange since I've been a shipper for that pairing since about five o'clock this afternoon. For the anonymous person who wanted some Anita/X-Men action in the Fanfic Fiasco III. Why am I setting this in Mississippi? I have no idea.
Rating: Bordering on R for sex and stuff. Come on, folks, it's an Anita Blake crossover.
"What'll ya have?"
Logan slid onto the bar stool, sparing the bartender a glance as he took in the half-filled room. "Beer."
The man, sporting a wife-beater and the mullet that seemed to be everywhere in this Mississippi town, fished a bottle from a sink of ice at his side, and pushed it across the bar to Logan. A bottle opener landed on the counter a second later.
Logan raised an eyebrow at the idea of customer service in this town, but popped the cap off his beer without a word and took a swig. He wished he had another cigar, but damned if Canada was the only place that carried Cubans for cheap. At least the beer was cold.
The bartender, seemingly reassured that Logan wasn't about to cause a ruckus, went back to his comic book.
Logan stifled a snort, not that he was amused. He'd arrived in this place, about six miles from Utica, just off the interstate, only to find the person he needed to see was out of town for a funeral. Just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished, Logan thought in disgust.
Gradually, as the thick darkness fell outside and the bar filled with locals and passers-by, and Logan's bar tab grew, his thoughts turned away from mundane, and tangled up with what had happened in New York, three weeks before.
Xavier had given him as much information as he could find, about Alkali Lake. Logan didn't hold out too much hope he'd find anything there; fifteen years was a long time to be without a past. He wasn't going to let himself get all optimistic. Not yet.
Information hadn't been all that Xavier gave him. Logan wasn't all that interested in banks, had spent living hand to mouth for a decade, never really needing a place to put money. When his camper blew up, well, that had been the end of that. When he left the mansion, Xavier had handed him a stack of money, not enough to insult him, just enough to tide him over. Hell, for all Xavier knew, Logan could have taken the money and run.
Probably poking around in my head before I left, though.
For the hundredth time, Logan wondered if he was being a fool, in coming down here like this. Making a promise is one thing, but trying to follow it up after twelve years? He'd never acted this way before. Maybe he could blame this whole thing on that idiot Scott. It seemed like the kind of noble thing he'd do.
"Is this seat taken?"
"No," Logan answered automatically. It was only after he'd spoken, that his mind put female and young to the voice. Don't want no damned company, he thought, turning to tell the girl to get lost.
The tiny woman who hopped up on the bar stool next to Logan gave him a brief smile, but the next moment her attention turned to the room. Logan went back to his beer, trying to figure out what bothered him about the woman. She looked young, fresh, with pale milky skin and a barely contained mane of black curly hair. She sure as hell didn't look like a local.
She's looking for something, Logan realized after a moment. She accepted a drink from the bartender, then leaned back against the bar, gazing out at the room. Cautiously, Logan smelled the air, and nearly choked on his beer.
That drink she was holding was just a cola, no booze, and from the smell of the gun oil in the air, she was hiding a weapon somewhere on her.
Now, Logan hadn't gotten a good look when she came in, but her clothes were tight enough to have to be tailored to hide any telltale bulge, which told him that she wasn't new at this.
Sure, a lot of women probably carried guns around down here, but they probably didn't do their best to look so damned fragile. She reminded Logan a lot of Marie, with the delicateness, but hiding steel underneath.
The woman at his side fended off a few polite, and a couple of not-so-polite, propositions, while Logan polished off another beer. She wasn't rude or anything; the guys just sort of melted back away. Logan wondered if they were picking up on that vibe coming off her, the promise of intoxicating danger, hidden underneath the china doll exterior.
Then someone passed behind Logan, and he froze. Instinctively, the muscles in his arms flexed, sending his claw forward a fraction, just enough to hurt, not enough to break the skin.
Vampire.
Not that Logan had anything against vampires, as a whole. The ones that bothered him, like that one in Anchorage that tried to roll him and leave him bled out on the snow, well, them he had problems with. But really, they were just like people, and mutants. Some were just fine, and some were just as eager to rip you to pieces as look at you.
The woman tensed, like a lynx on the trail of prey, as the vampire passed, although Logan doubted the creature noticed. Watching in the bar's mirror, Logan watched as the creature and the one behind it mixed in with the crowd. They were good at passing for human, he'd give them that. Their skin was almost pink, their mannerisms almost alive.
Well, they were legal now, like it or not. More legal than mutants like him, especially after Magneto's stunt in New York. Vampires were free to wander around rural Southern bars, just like anyone else.
Nursing his beer, Logan pretended to watch the sports game on the tiny television behind the bar. The room got more full as the night wore on, with the cheap liquor flowing freely. The two vampires pretended to be human, but after an hour, they left, alone.
They hadn't even cleared the doorway when the woman jumped down from her stool and, throwing a bill on the bar, headed after them.
Logan stayed where he was. It wasn't any business of his what that stupid little girl was up to. Didn't matter to him if she was going after two vampires in the dark with only a gun. She was walking into the fight, her choice. He was done with this business of picking up dangerous little strays in bars.
He managed to sit still for a whole minute, before he threw some cash on the counter and took off after her.