He was muscles and wife beaters, whiskey and cigars. Creeping forward, she stayed behind the crowd and watched as they screamed for the king of the cage. She could see the sweat dripping down his neck, watched him circle his opponent and pummel the man to a bleeding unconscious mess.

Perhaps it was the strength he exuded. Maybe it was the way his body moved, barely contained power that he had no problem wielding. Something drew Marie to The Wolverine, and it was that urge that had her crawling into the bed of his truck and tucking herself away.

That was their beginning. A gruff old man and a 15 year old girl, on the road to a place that would accept them.

He was pissed. Royally pissed. Instead of bedding a frail like he usually would after a good fight, Logan was watching a little girl scarf down a burger like there was no tomorrow. And worse yet, his animal had no problem with it. Even hissed that they needed to help the girl fill out.

Logan Howlett was an ass, sure. But he was an ass with his own morals, one of which was to keep the hell away from kids. Especially the ones who were jailbait.

She has good hips.

She has under aged hips.

Wanna keep her.

No way in hell. We don't need some damn kid-

Keep. Her.

The fuck are we supposed to do with a little girl?

Take real good care of her. Feed her. Give her furs-

She's nothing but trouble.

We always have trouble human. She's ours now.

He wanted to dump her in the next city. Maybe spring for bus fare, he wasn't completely heartless. Instead, around 11 that night he'd paid for a bag of burgers, stopped in at the nearest motel and gotten a room with two beds. While she used the bathroom he thought over their conversation back in the truck.

Two strangers in a car and Logan wasn't big on talking to begin with. The girl was pressed against the door, hugging herself tightly. He didn't smell fear on her. But she did reek of exhaustion.

"You got a name kid?"

She paused, looking up at him like a deer in the head lights.

"Your name."

"What's yah name?"

Answering a question with a question. Interesting.

"Wolverine. Yours?"

"Rogue."

"What kind of name is Rogue?"

"What kind of name is Wolverine?"

He arched an eyebrow at her but she didn't so much as flinch. Either the kid had balls the size of Texas or there was something up with her. Either way..

"Logan."

"Anna-Marie D'Ancanto."

"It's pretty."

She smiled shyly but her scent was still wary. Not afraid. Just… cautious. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't made someone uncomfortable with one glance.

"Does it hurt?"

She was looking at his hands. Curious. Concerned. Something in his chest tightened and he made a fist over the steering wheel.

"Everytime."

She'd touched him then. One small, gloved hand reaching out, tracing where the claws lay beneath the surface. Rubbing gently. And then it was over, so quickly he couldn't be sure he hadn't dreamt it up. Unfortunately, that was the moment he was sunk. It was an idiotic, selfish inclination, but he was an idiotic and selfish man at times. That one question had sealed the deal.

"Hey mister Logan?"

Her soft southern voice calling from the bathroom snapped him from his ruminations.

"What?"

"Ah'm all done now sir.

"Yeah, I can see that. What do you want a medal?"

She shifted from one foot to the other.

"Yah can go in if yah need tah."

"Whatever. Sit down and eat."

Obediently, she took the wrapped burger he pushed in her direction and began to eat, wolfing down her food.

"Kid… Hey, Kid!"

Again, the wide eyed stare.

"I gave you the food didn't I?"

"Y-yes…"

"Then cut that shit out. Nobody's gonna take it from you and I'm not dealing with any damn puking. Clear?"

She nodded and started eating again, this time with smaller bites and actually breathing in between them. When Logan silently handed over a box of fries and a drink, he would have sworn she thought it was worth a million dollars she smelt so happy.

He flipped on the TV, turning to the hockey game and continued to eat his dinner. He wasn't gonna babysit her, but she seemed to respond well to direct instructions. For the time being at least, she was supposed to eat. That oughta buy him some peace. At least it should have.

The thing of it was, his animal kept looking at their new charge. Or studying her, to be more exact. She had that hungry, scared rabbit sort of look to her. She was young. He'd be willing to bet money she wasn't a day over 16. And a scrawny thing too. Her hands stayed gloved, even while she ate. And her body was constantly on the defensive.

So who the hell let this little girl out into the world all by herself? She'd be ripe for the picking in any seedy town. Yet somehow, she'd ended up biding her time in a smoky rundown shack of a place with a bunch of lowlife drifters. The more Logan thought about it, the harder he had to push at protective instincts. The animal was insistent, she was an orphaned kit and needed wasn't trying to hear that though. She wasn't some pet to keep-

"Ah- ah can't.. ah don't have any money tah pay for the food."

A silence hung thick. Her nervous little glances towards the beds had him furious. Did she honestly think that was why he'd helped her? Why he'd stopped for the night? To use her like a whore if she couldn't pay her own way?

"Did I ask you for money?"

"No sir."

"Then don't bring it up again. If I want something, I'll tell you straight out. I don't rape people, you got that?"

"Y-yes sir."

"And can it with the sir shit."

"Okay … what do ah call yah then?

"Logan."

"Okay Logan."

Suddenly overwhelmed with weariness, he jerked his head towards one of the beds.

"You can sleep there."

"Okay."

She went into the bathroom, going through some kind of night routine before coming out and putting her gloves on the nightstand. This done she crawled in between the sheets.

"G'night Logan."

He almost didn't respond. But the animal insisted and if he was being completely honest, he wanted her to have some reassurance.

"Night kid."

Hours later, in the dark, his animal began to whine. Try as he might to ignore it, The Wolverine would not be silenced.

The kit needs us.

She's fine.

No. Go to the kit, needs us, needs help!

Look she can deal with her own nightmares and we're not going to-

Kit is sick. Something is wrong, it smells like sickness.

Finally opening his eyes he inhaled. The animal was right. The sickly sweet fragrance of vomit wafted past his nostrils and clung to his throat. He almost gagged himself as feral sensitive ears picked up the sound of muffled retching, coming from the bathroom. On his feet and to the door in seconds, he burst in and found Marie on her hands and knees, hugging the porcelain throne.

"Kid-"

"Ah'm sorry, ah'm fahne-"

"Like hell you are."

Even as she protested, her body once again dumped the contents of her stomach. He could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead and when he sniffed again she smelt clammy. For some reason, even though sick she'd taken the time to put back on her gloves and he held out one hand now to help her stand.

"Let's rinse your mouth. Told you to slow down."

"Wasn't that.."

"Sure it wasn't."

She took the cup he offered and swished, rinsing and spitting.

"Ah read once if yah don't eat a long time and then suddenly do, sometimes it's too much. Ah'm sorry if ah woke yah."

He was still stuck on what she'd said and so only shrugged at the apology.

"You telling me it's been so long since you ate that you got sick tonight from having something in your stomach?"

It was Marie's turn to shrug.

"That's life on the road. Ah'm sorry again. Next time yah don't have tah get up, ah'm fahne. Sorry."

"Enough apologies! Just go back to bed."

Marie did as told while Logan flushed the toilet. He filled the cheap plastic cup with water and put it beside her on her side of the night stand.

"Small sips. Don't need your tiny ass dehydrated on top of it."

That's when she smiled, a real honest to god smile that made his belly warm.

"Thanks."

He was so screwed.