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by Victoria P.

     Subject: Stray (XMM)
     Date: Friday, March 28, 2003 4:30 PM

     Title:  Stray
     Author: Victoria P. []
     Summary: Rogue has a mission.
     Rating: G
     Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox;
     this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on
     any copyrights.
     Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool.
     Feedback: Rings my chimes
     Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. Written
     for DD, on the sad occasion of Amy the Horse's death.
     Date: March 28, 2003


Rogue found Logan in the woods, as far from the house as he could be and still be on Xavier land.

He was sweaty and dirty, and he was patting down fresh dirt with a shovel.


"Hey," he said without turning around.

"I'm sorry about the dog."

"She was old and in pain. Better off this way."

"Maybe, but that doesn't make it hurt less."

He stopped, dropped the shovel. "What are you doing here, kid?"

"I don't like it when you hurt." He opened his mouth and she held up a hand. "Don't. You may think you hid it from everyone, but I saw you putting food out for her every night, and I know you played with her when no one was looking."

"She was a good dog."

"She loved you too."

"You think?"

"I know. You're pretty lovable, Logan."

He opened his arms and she fit into them like she was born to it. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Let's not spread that around, huh?"

"My lips are sealed."

He broke the embrace and picked up the shovel. He took her hand with his empty one, and they walked back to the mansion.

"You think Chuck would mind having a dog around?" he asked when they were almost there.

"You gonna let it stop you if he doesn't?"

He smiled, finally. "No, I don't think so."

"Atta boy," she said, bumping his arm with her shoulder. "Besides, the kids will love you for it. The big bad Wolverine and a little puppy dog."

He growled. "I'm not getting a little purse dog, Marie."

"Of course not."

"I'll get something manly, like a Doberman, or, or a Rottweiler."

"Of course you will," she said, knowing he'd go to North Shore and pick out the cutest, neediest, most raggedy dog they had.

"Kids oughta have a dog."


"We'll go tomorrow."

She nodded and he squeezed her hand. He no longer looked so sad. Mission accomplished.



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