Butterfly Net
By MollyTM
Rated R
Summary: Logan learns how messy things can get when a lie catches up with you.
Notes: It's all for Smurfy, who is the biggest damn pusher this side of Amy Madison. Except she's pushing, you know, fic instead of magic. And for that, we love her.


it's not all that easy, so maybe I should
snap her up in a butterfly net
pin her down on a photograph album
I am not worried
I've done this sort of thing before
but then I start to think about the consequences
because I don't get no sleep in a quiet room...
~ Anna Begins, Counting Crows

Logan kissed Rogue for the first time on the night Jean married Scott.

Much later, he told himself that it was because Jean was now officially out of his league, off on her two week honeymoon with the biggest pansy in the house, and he was lonely. He repeated it time and time again.

He chose to pass over the fact that he’d gotten over Jean a long time ago and that he was actually happy she and Scooter were finally settling down.

He told himself over and over that his romance with Rogue had started for lack of another option, but he never really believed it.

She had this apricot colored bridesmaid dress that hugged her curves, with embroidery that made the fabric look liquid every time she moved. Her hair was pulled up into a French twist, white tendrils curling around her face and little pale flowers tucked around the dark strands caught by her hair clip. All the bridesmaids had worn silky opera length gloves, because Jean hadn’t wanted her to feel as though she was standing out.

Logan thought it was in questionable taste to look more beautiful than the bride, but he figured there wasn’t too much Marie could really do about that. Jeannie had been gorgeous, sure, with her white dress and her vibrant happiness and the loving eyes she’d focused on Scott, but Marie was the one he couldn’t stop staring at. Through the whole damn ceremony.

When he closed his eyes, he could still remember the slide of that damn dress under his hands. She pulled him out onto the dance floor, ignored his repeated growls that he didn’t fucking *dance*. Leaned in and whispered, “You’re not spendin’ the whole party sulkin’ in the corner and nursin’ a beer, sugar. So get used to it.”

It almost scared him that he *did* get used to it, and quickly, too. He got used to the feel of Marie’s body against his, got used to seeing her smile at him encouragingly, got used to growling and glaring at Bobby or St. John when they looked like they were about to try and cut in.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was twenty two, all grown up, and it unnerved him. He noticed. Oh, hell, did he notice. He’d gotten used to mentally wrestling himself every she so much as walked by lately, and now here she was, snug against him and smelling great and smiling up at him every so often…

It would have done something to any man, being looked at like you were the only thing in the world. Especially when it was *her* doing the looking.

She was Marie. His best friend. The girl he’d sworn to protect at all costs. He’d known how much she wanted him, once upon a time, and he tried to bypass that. He didn’t want to mess up the best thing in his life. He wasn’t ever supposed to see her as a woman.

But he did, and there wasn’t much he could do to stop once he started.

He’d walked her back to her room at three in the morning, after Jean and Scott had taken off and the rest of the party was breaking up. Marie slipped a stray bottle of champagne out of one of the ice buckets and brandished it at him with a giggle when they finally reached her door.

“You really think more of that stuff is a good idea, Marie?”

“Special occasion, sugar,” she wheedled. Her hair was coming down from its elegant twist, her eyes were sparkling, and God knew he never *could* say no when she called him ‘sugar’. “And anyway, it’s not like I’m drivin’. C’mon, I’ ll share.”

So he went into her room with her, a place he’d been thousands of times before. They sprawled out on her bed, he extended a claw and popped the cork, and they’d passed the bottle back and forth until it was half empty. At some point, one of them had flipped the light switch off. The only light in the room came from the pre-dawn rays, washing over the walls in ethereal blue light.

He was feeling pretty comfortable by that point. Marie had told him a few weeks ago, point blank, that he *was* wearing a tux to the wedding, and he’d grumbled and cursed and threatened and even resorted to begging, but she’d still gotten him into it. The penguin suit was one of the most damn uncomfortable things he’d ever had on in his life, but now the tie was off, flung into some forgotten corner of her room. He’d popped a few buttons off the shirt, kicked off the shoes, undone the vest, and with a little liquor in his belly and a lot of Marie curled against him, he couldn’t imagine a better place to be.

Marie hiccuped, then rolled over onto her stomach, her skirt riding up enough in back for him to cement his theory that her legs really did go on forever. “ I’m sorry, Logan,” she said, completely out of nowhere. “I don’t think I was real sensitive tonight, and I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what, kid?”

Her eyes were soft and sad, and he found himself wanting to make her laugh again, giggle the way she’d been doing moments ago. Marie’s temperament after she’d been drinking was the definition of ‘mercurial’. “This whole weddin’ thing. I know how you feel about her. It’s gotta be rough.”

That was the last thing he was expecting. “Aw, hell, Marie…”

“Oh, God. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m – ”

“Forget it, darlin’,” he told her, rubbing his hand over her back in lazy circles. Her skin was warm beneath that damn fabric, the fabric that was driving him crazy. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s hurtin’ you, it does. It matters.” Her eyes were on his, and he felt a quiver in his stomach when he saw the look in them. The look that said maybe she loved him, after all, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “I want to see you happy, because when you hurt, I hurt. That’s how it’s always been.”

Maybe it was her words, simple and heartfelt.

Maybe it was the champagne – the magnum was the good stuff, and it packed a punch.

Maybe it was the fact that she felt wonderful against him and he was lying on her bed with her scent all around him.

Maybe it was that he’d just been trying to fight the feelings that had been building in his gut for too long.

Whatever the reason, when he opened his mouth…“I’m not, darlin’, I’m not hurtin’ at all.” Paused, then forced himself to go on. “Jeannie hasn’t been the woman on my mind in a hell of a long time, Marie.”

Her lips fell open slightly, and he could see her trying to work through it. “ Oh,” she said slowly, and he grinned at her disbelief, still continuing to trace his hand over her back. “*Oh*. Really? I mean, you’re not just…this isn’ t just…” She didn’t look disgusted, or frightened, or anything but amazed, and possibly a little drunk.

He couldn’t seem to form the words to tell her this wasn’t a promise or anything. It was just sort of…happening. He wanted her, and she seemed willing, so he went with it and didn’t look any further. Because he was Logan, and that was what he did.

“I’m not, and this isn’t,” he reassured her, sliding her scarf down from where it was looped over the bedpost.

“Logan…”

“Shhh, baby. Don’t think.” He draped the scarf over her lips and kissed her through the wispy fabric, a kiss that she very eagerly returned. They spent a few more hours learning each other until sleep finally took them, wrapped up in blankets with her cheek pressed to his chest and his arms around her.

And looking back on it, Logan knows he was an idiot to ever assume it could really be that easy.


When he woke up next day, he was downright ashamed of himself for taking advantage of her. Even when he reminded himself that he hadn’t made love to her and it had only been kissing – well, kissing and some groping – the old, familiar morning after panic surged through him.

He’d been panicked for the whole two minutes it had taken for Marie to wake up when she felt him moving, trying to disentangle himself from the way the blankets were twisted around their bodies. She opened her eyes, blinked, and murmured, “Runnin’ off already, huh?”

Something about her voice when she was sleepy…managed to be incredibly sexy while stirring his protective instincts at the same time. This was *Marie*, not some nameless woman he’d picked up in a bar. He wouldn’t run out on Marie, not like this, and it caused him a slight pang to realize that she’d expected him to. “Just shiftin’ around, darlin’,” he responded, sinking his hands into her hair. It had fallen down into a loose mess of curls at some point in the night, and he realized he liked her this way, disheveled and dreamy. “Got a little hot in here.”

“I’ll say,” she said, stretching against him. She rolled deftly through the blankets until she was sprawled on his chest, looking down with an expression in her eyes that was suddenly entirely too alert. “If you want to forget this happened…it’s okay. I understand.”

He growled low in his chest, a rumbling she could feel all the way through her body. “Is that what you want? You want to forget about this?”

“Logan, I *know* you,” she reminded him. “I know how you get. I’m giving you a free pass.”

“I don’t need a goddamned free pass.”

“What *do* you need?”

“You. I need you.” His answered surprised even him, but once he said it, he could feel the truth of it down to his bones. He needed her. He always had.

“Jean got married last night, you know,” she said in response.

Logan had no idea what in the hell that meant. “Uh, I remember that, Marie. I was at the wedding. Both of us were.” Mentally, he tried to determine exactly how much champagne she’d had and if it could really effect her brain stem *that* quickly.

“*Jean* got *married*,” Rogue emphasized. “Kind of a coincidental night to finally realize I’m the one you wanted all along. Logan, this…” She waved her hand to indicate their current surroundings. “God knows I’ve wanted this, but I won’t settle for being the next best thing, okay? Not even for you. That’s not me.”

He groaned out loud and without another word, flipped her over and supported his weight on his arms. “Picked a lousy time, but Marie, I swear…I was in here last night because of *you*. Not because I was tryin’ to forget someone else. This was a long time comin’.”

She wanted so badly to believe him. He could see it in her eyes, and he held his breath while she was choosing whether or not he was telling the truth.

“Promise?” she finally whispered.

“Yeah,” he told her, relieved. “Is this…is this okay with you?”

She laughed, and he was glad she was still wearing her bridesmaid gloves because it meant she could touch him – more importantly, it meant he could touch *her*. “Sugar, I’ve wanted this forever.”

Logan had another brief bout with panic. She was talking commitment. She was talking exclusive. She’d want things he wasn’t sure he knew how to give. Marie deserved all of that and more. She deserved everything.

Instead, she was getting him. Flawed as all hell Logan.

But the way she was looking at him told him she really did *want* flawed as all hell Logan. So how hard could it be? How tough could it be to be that guy for her?

She was his best friend. She was his girl, she’d always been his girl, and they already spent nearly every waking minute together. He knew she made him feel things nobody else had ever touched, and knew that he was glad he was finally acting on what had been there between them from the moment she’d hidden away in his trailer.

He just didn’t know if that would be enough.

It’d be easy to find out, though, and when she was giving him a look like *that*, he was sure he was already halfway there. No other woman had ever made him want to at least give it a shot.

He couldn’t find the scarf. It was lost somewhere in the tangle of bedcovers, so he floated the sheet over her lips. “*Now* can we stop talkin’?” he demanded.

Her eyes were still smiling as she answered him by tugging his full weight on top of her.


They were happy together. That’s the one thing he’s never doubted. He’d made her happy. For awhile, anyway, and when he was with her…well, when had Marie ever made him anything else?

When Jean and Scott finally returned from their honeymoon, Jean kissed his cheek and whispered that she was glad he and Rogue had finally admitted what had been so painfully obvious to everyone else. Ororo downright beamed whenever she saw Logan’s hand resting on Rogue’s back, and even Cyke gave them his grudging blessing.

Not until after he’d cornered Logan in the garage and told him that if he ever broke her heart, he would personally beat the shit out of him, then dangle his limp, broken body off of the flagpole, of course. It had been a neatly delivered threat, especially considering Scott had been wearing a very friendly grin that belied the lethal tone of his voice.

Death-threats notwithstanding, there was something to be said for having an actual relationship instead of drifting from woman to woman. Marie *knew* him, knew him like nobody else ever had, and very likely, the way nobody else ever would.

He could talk to her, long, drawn out conversations full of arguments and opinions and debates and grins. She made him so damn comfortable, with her warm body curled against him on the couch, the way she made him laugh, the way she fit into his arms…the way things just felt *right* when he was with her. Like the whole world had fallen into place.

Those were the times he started to think he could easily do this for the rest of his life, because God, he thought he might love this woman. Even though he could never admit it, not to himself, and not to her.

Logan learned that it was easy to give up empty sex with random women from bars. Making love to Marie was better than anything he’d ever known. How she’d look at him, the light in her eyes, the thousands of different sweet sounds he could get her to make. The way she tasted through fabric that was soaked in the scent of them, how her hair always smelled like orange blossom shampoo, how, after awhile, he didn’t even have to ask to know what she wanted, and he still never got tired of learning her body. Best damn sex of his life.

But at the same time, little reminders that he was in a *relationship* startled him. When he’d watched her wear one of his old shirts outside the day she’ d helped Jubilee, Kitty, and Jean paint the boathouse. The two drawers in his room that had somehow become filled with gloves, underwear, and her nightgowns. Realizing he had a favorite color for her to wear. Books kicked under his bed that he knew *he’d* never read. Hearing the kids talk about Logan and Rogue the way they used to talk about Scott and Jean.

Those were the times he started to think he had to get out before this became the rest of his life, because God, he thought he might love this woman. And that was scary as all hell, because it meant every other chapter of his life was ending.

The fear was making his blood itch in his veins, and the old urge to run before he got in any deeper was starting to stir. It was coming with more and more frequency, but he pretended nothing was changing. Something told him that if he left, that would be it, and while he wasn’t ready to give her everything he could tell she was going to want, he wasn’t ready to let her go, either.

Besides, this was his home. He wanted his days of running to be over with.

“I love you,” she whispered one night. Logan pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to answer.

He heard her sigh, a soft, sad sound, and his heart tightened. He was sure she knew that he wasn’t really sleeping. But she didn’t say anything further, just slid under his arm and rested a gloved hand on his bare chest. Her breathing grew steady and even, but he stayed awake for the rest of the night, staring at the ceiling and wondering how she could love him when he could be such a jackass to her.

Wondered if what he felt was love, after all, or if this was just some kind of trial run. The thought made him sick. God, she deserved better than that. She deserved better than all of this, and he was too twisted with fear of getting tied down to be able to give it.

He hated that about himself, hated that he was holding back from the one person who loved him, who he could always count on to love him, despite everything he was.

But things had gone on, like they always did. Marie never forced the issue, never once pressured him for concrete evidence that he was in it for the long haul, never asked him for more than he offered her.

Until the day she did.

Logan had just gotten out of the shower, and Marie was sprawled on her stomach, draped across his bed with a pile of her students’ papers in front of her. For a few moments, he just watched her in the doorway. Her ankles were crossed, and the tip of her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she scribbled some comment in red pen across one of the essays. God, she was gorgeous. Never failed to make his mouth go dry, even in the quiet moments like this one.

It was hot for October, the last remnants of a drawn out Indian summer fading away, and all the windows in his room were open to catch a breeze. Marie set the essays she’d been correcting aside and rolled over, grinning at him. “ Feel like helpin’?”

“My editorial comments would be a hell of a lot less diplomatic than yours, baby,” he said, dropping down next to her and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “And I’d make ‘em run laps after two grammatical errors.”

“Which is why you take care of combat training,” she said dryly, fanning herself off. “It’s hot as hell in here, Logan. How do you stand it?”

His grin turned devilish. “Sleep naked, mostly.”

“Mmm,” she purred, sliding onto his lap. “Still, can’t be very comfortable.”

“Well, that all depends on who’s sleeping next to me.”

Marie slapped his shoulder and laughed. “Better not be anyone but me, sugar.”

“Not recently,” he assured her as he worked his hands up and down her back. “ You staying here tonight?”

“Actually, that’s somethin’ I wanted to talk to you about,” she said.

He was suddenly on his guard, the words shuddering down to his stomach, although he didn’t draw back from her. “Sure, darlin’. What’s on your mind?”

“The thing is…well, my room’s a lot bigger than this one. Not to mention the fact that I lucked out and got one of the window air conditioning units,” she told him with a grin. “And seein’ as we spend most every night runnin’ back and forth, I was thinkin’…you know, if you wanted to, why not just move in?”

Her tone was nothing but casual, and that was when his lungs squeezed together. This was Commitment, with a capital C. This was the point of no return. No matter that she’d brought it up comfortably, just offered it as a suggestion. He could feel the walls closing in on him.

Living together. That was everything he *should* have been ready for by now, but wasn’t. Maybe never would be.

His horror must have showed on his face, because she slid off his lap and reached over, gathering up her things. “Or, you know, not,” she said easily, not meeting his eyes.

“Marie, wait.” He caught her wrist and tugged her around. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to.” He heard the lie slip from his mouth, and wondered when he’d started lying to her. “I just don’t think we’re ready for that. It’s a big step. ”

“I didn’t ask you to put a ring on my finger and have two point five kids,” she interrupted, cutting right through his bullshit. “God, Logan. You could at least be man enough to admit that it scares the shit out of you.”

“Does not,” he shot back, fully aware of how petulant and childish he sounded.

“Does, too! I’m tryin’, Logan. I really am, but I just don’t *get* it,” she said. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid! I keep givin’ you more and more room to breathe, but some days, I feel like all the room in the world wouldn’t be enough for you. You look at me, and I see you feelin’ more and more trapped. And I want to know *why* nothing is ever enough for you.”

“I don’t know!” he roared, frustrated by the whole situation, but mostly with himself. “I don’t *know* why it’s not!”

Her face collapsed, completely broke apart, and he hated himself for phrasing it like that. He *would* have picked this as the perfect moment to lay out his insecurities.

The worst part was that she gave him time to backpedal. She waited in painful silence for a full three minutes before realizing that he wasn’t going to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way, that of course she was enough for him, that he was just a bastard, but he loved her. That was the least of what any decent man would have done.

But he just sat there like an idiot.

“Sorry I make it so hard for you, Logan,” she finally managed, then turned and left his room.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out if he should go after her. That was the whole problem. He just couldn’t figure it out.


Logan started packing the next day. They’d started fast, and now they were going to end fast.

He’d told the Professor he was planning on taking off for awhile, and was startled to realize that the obvious disapproval in Chuck’s eyes stung. Of course, Xavier had been nothing but cordial, told him that he would always have a home here, to come back whenever he felt ready. He could tell that Logan didn’t want to hear any other comment he’d make, but he’d said it, anyway.

“Your freedom really means that much to you, Logan?” His unspoken More than she does? lingered between them, and Logan had paused, then stalked out of his office without so much as a grunt.

Rogue hadn’t tried to stop him; then again, he hadn’t really expected her to. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d plead with someone to stay if they’d already made up their mind to go.

He knew his girl. She’d hold onto her dignity to the bitter end.

He had intended to just slip out without a word, but he couldn’t go through with it. Even if he was doing the cowardly, shitty thing by running out on her, he wouldn’t sink *that* low. So he’d packed, and she’d stood in the door and watched him until he finally turned to face her.

There wasn’t a trace of tears in her eyes, which he was grateful for. If she’ d cried, he would have been helpless, and he was already halfway towards convincing himself he was leaving for her, that his was better for her. If she’d cried, he would have seen his leaving for what it really was.

“So this is it,” she said flatly, looking straight at him.

“Looks like,” he responded, tightening his grip on the handle of his duffel bag. “I’ll be back, you know, for the team. Don’t know when, but I’ll come back.”

“Good. That’s good. For the team.” Two heartbeats. “You were just going to leave, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t want it to turn out like this,” he said, and he knew it was weak. “ It’s just not…”

“Forget it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it does,” he insisted. “It means everything.”

Her face slipped, and for an instant, he could see something vulnerable and aching behind her eyes. He could see that she loved him, she always had, and that this was killing her. “Tell me you don’t love me,” she challenged quietly.

“I don’t love you,” he heard himself say. His voice was matter of fact, and it took him a minute to realize he’d really spoken. “Not like that. This was a mistake.”

And Marie, Marie who’d always been able to read him like a book, who he’d only lied to once before this moment, believed him. He saw the shock in her face that she couldn’t quite hide, could feel her heart shatter as certain as he felt his own.

He rushed to say something, anything, to take that pain away from her. “Marie – ”

“Rogue.” The word cracked like a bullet, and he jerked when it hit. “You don’ t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

“Marie, don’t – ”

“*Rogue*,” she demanded icily. “I don’t want to hear a half-assed excuse. It ’s crystal fuckin’ clear, sugar.” He reached out for her, pure instinct, and she slapped his hand away. “Get out, Logan. Just get on your bike and *go*.”

He made it all the way to the top of the stairs before he smelled her tears. Cursing himself for it, he turned back to see Marie – Rogue – wrapped up in Jean’s arms, with her head buried in Jean’s shoulder. His heart kicked into his throat at the soft little hitching sobs she made. Sobs that anyone without his senses wouldn’t have heard from that far away.

Jean met his eyes over the top of Rogue’s head, one hand softly stroking her hair. He’d never seen her look at him that way before, fierce anger in her eyes, and it was incredibly unnerving. Jean. Sweet, even-tempered Jean was looking at him like she’d be more than happy to spin him around and shove him head first through three walls of brick.

A second later, her voice exploded inside his head. Logan, get your cowardly self down those stairs. She is *not* going to know that you saw her cry over you. I want you *gone* before she looks up.

When Jean Grey-Summers used that tone, you did what she said. Period.

Logan was thirty miles out of Westchester before he realized that freedom wasn ’t tasting anywhere near as sweet as he thought it would. Not with the sound of Rogue’s tears still in his head.


His nightmares came back with a vengeance a few nights after he left. He hadn’ t had them anywhere near as often when Rogue slept next to him, but now they revisited him almost every night.

Some nights, he’d dream about her, though, and it was hard to say which nights were worse. In his dreams, she was always smiling. In his dreams, he never made her cry. In his dreams, he never missed a chance to tell her he loved her.

It made it all the harder when he’d wake up in an empty motel bed and realize he wasn’t going to get that chance again. So he’d tell himself he didn’t give a fuck, pull on his clothes, and get out.

He lived the way he had before Marie, before the X-Men. Cage fights and bars and women who’d slide onto his lap and whisper things they’d like to do with him. Late nights and motels and the empty feeling in his gut that got a little bigger every day.

None of it felt anything like he thought it would. He missed his home, and he hated to think it, but that’s what it was. Xavier’s place had turned into home over the years. He’d put down roots, gotten attached, and he knew that he belonged there.

This…whatever he was doing, whatever this was, wasn’t his life anymore. This was just stupid.

Everything about being with another woman felt wrong. None of them looked up at him the way Marie had, with warm, trusting eyes that said she’d never wanted anything but him. None of them laughed like her, none of them smelled like her or had her smile.

None of them *were* her, and it took him too long to realize that that’s what the whole damned problem was. He didn’t want a string of meaningless fucks in motels and behind bars. What he wanted was Marie curled up under his arm with her head pillowed on his chest, watching a Jackie Chan movie and pointing out every single tactical error from the opening credits on. He wanted his girlfriend back, the girl who knew him inside and out.

Logan had avoided thinking about her for as long as he could, but once that door opened, he could no more stop his thoughts than he could have taken Sabertooth to Disneyland. She was suddenly everywhere, every time he turned around.

A song would come on the jukebox in a bar, and he’d remember her singing this one in the shower, slightly off key and filling in the gaps where she didn’t know the words with her own lyrics. He’d buy jerky from a convenience store, and he’d remember watching her shove it into her mouth in the passenger seat of his trailer. A girl would walk down the street with streaks of white bleached into her dark hair. Displays of gloves in the store window. A waitress who’d call him ‘sugar’ when she handed him his check.

Late one night, he screwed up the nerve and dialed the number he hadn’t been able to burn out of his brain. Marie answered on the third ring, her voice sleepy and muddled. “H’lo?”

He suddenly couldn’t make his throat squeeze out so much as a vowel sound. Marie was right there, suddenly, in the motel bed next to him. She was brushing her hair back out of sleep-swollen eyes, running the point of her tongue over her bottom lip to try and clear out her throat. She was stretching and wrapping herself around him to keep warm while she molded the phone to her ear, straddling the line between asleep and awake.

“Hello?” she asked again. He didn’t say a word, just breathed into the receiver and missed her so badly that it was a physical shock to his whole system.

Then her voice went soft, less than a whisper. “Logan?”

He slammed the phone down and didn’t call again.

He started staying at the bars later and later, until it was just himself and the other broken down men who had nowhere to go but deeper into the bottle. He ’d nurse a bottle of Canada’s finest and listen to the bartender’s static filled radio, hear Springsteen sing “You’ve gone a million miles…how far did you get?” and he’d privately tell old Bruce that he hadn’t gotten very far at all. In body, maybe, but not where it really counted.

Eight months of a half-assed life until one day, he woke up and it just hit him. A lightening bolt to the heart. God, he really *was* in love with her. He always had been, head over heels, really and truly. He’d been a stupid, stupid fool who’d fucked it all up. Absolutely nothing in his life was right without her with him.

He’d hurt her, he’d broken her heart, he’d made her miserable. She would have every right to hate him with her whole being. If she wanted to kick his ass from one end of the mansion to the other, he’d deserve every second.

But he couldn’t live without her. He’d told her once that he needed her, and that was as true as it ever was. So he’d go back. He would tell her he lied, then he’d wait for as long as it took to get her to trust him again.

And this time, he wouldn’t screw it up. This time, he’d do everything right.

It was dusk on the Fourth of July when he rode back to Westchester. A very pregnant Jean greeted him at the door, one hand on her swollen belly as she looked him up and down. “Took you long enough,” she finally said, her tone cool.

He grinned sheepishly, and was relieved to see the soft smile she granted him. Jean could hold a grudge with the best of them, so her willingness to be friendly enough after she’d been so angry lifted his spirits. Maybe it was a sign that Marie had forgiven him. *Maybe*. “Apparently,” he said with a nod towards her stomach. “You look good, Jeannie. When’s the kid due?”

“End of August,” she told him. “It’s a boy.”

“Bet Cyke’s proud as hell.”

Jean rolled her eyes in a fondly exasperated gesture. “He bought enough baby books to open his own bookstore.” She opened the door. “Well, don’t just stand there gaping at my enormous belly. Come inside. Charles will be happy to see you.”

“Any other big changes I should know about?” he asked as he followed her inside.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. He could tell in that moment that there’d been a lot more than she could recap, but she settled on saying, “Most of them should be pretty self evident.”

“How’s…” He faltered, unsure of how to complete the sentence, and thankfully, Jean took pity on him.

“She’s well, Logan. She’s happy.” But that was all she’d say before leading him straight to Xavier’s office. “I’ve got to find Scott and Ororo. Try not to take too long with the Professor – we’re all taking the kids into town to see the fireworks, and you know how impatient they get.” She gave him another not quite smile. “It’s good to see you, Logan.”

“You, too,” he called after her.

Xavier hadn’t seemed surprised at all when he turned up in his office. All he wanted to know was if Logan was home for good this time, and Logan hadn’t hesitated before answering yes.

The Professor fixed him with one of those intent looks he specialized in. Are you quite certain of this?

Logan wondered why he always did the telepathy thing halfway through a conversation. Did he think it upped the dramatic value? “Yeah, Chuck, I am,” he answered, deliberately speaking out loud. “Just needed some time to get my head on straight. But between you and Jean, I’m gettin’ the feeling there’s something you’re not tellin’ me. There some reason I wouldn’t want to stick around?”

Xavier paused, then shook his head. “I suppose not. I’ll speak further with you in the morning. Welcome home, Logan.”

Logan waited until the mansion had quieted down before going to look for Rogue. He remembered last Fourth of July, when she said that the best place to catch the fireworks was from the roof of the house. They’d snuck up there together with a blanket. He’d been happy, watching her face light up with joy every time another one went off, and he’d lay money that’s where she was right now.

He was still working out what he’d say to her when he caught her scent. The sound of her laughter rang out an instant later, and he paused in his tracks. She was probably on the roof with Jubilee, Bobby, and the rest of her friends, drinking and joking and enjoying the freedom of having the house to themselves. Maybe now wasn’t the best moment for confrontation.

But God, he wanted to see her so badly.

Logan compromised by telling himself he wouldn’t ruin her night by stirring up their whole past. He’d stay out of sight and just look at her for now. Kill two birds with one stone – he’d have time to plan out his words, and he’d still get to see her. He opened the door to the roof with his heart pounding triple time.

The first thing he noticed was that Jubilee and Kitty were nowhere to be seen.

The second thing he noticed was that Rogue was very definitely not alone.

Some trenchcoated geek who he’d never seen before was up there with her. Rogue was reclined against his chest, and his chin rested lightly on top of her head. Everything about their body language was screaming that they were comfortable with each other. His hands were busy moving up and down her sides. She was giggling and squirming, but not making any real movement to get away.

“I’m gonna fall off this roof if you keep doin’ that, sugar,” she told the man, giving him the special smile she’d always reserved for *him*.

She’d called him ‘sugar’. She’d only ever called Logan that.

The punk grinned back at her, not seeming to realize he was on some dangerous ground here. “Gambit be dere to catch you, chere. Wouldn’t want to see you banged and bruised.”

Something was very, very wrong with this picture. Logan let out a growl and inched a little closer. That red eyed cheese-dick better watch who he was sweet talking.

Rogue snuggled a little closer to him. Somewhere in the back of his brain, Logan registered that she wasn’t wearing gloves.

She wasn’t wearing gloves. Holy God.

She wasn’t wearing very much at all, come to think of it, and he thought his eyes might pop out of his head at the sight of all that skin bared by her tank top and cut-off shorts. So she’d gotten it under control, after all. He felt a burst of pride in her before he remembered that it was somebody else who was getting to touch her skin right now. “We’d miss all the fireworks.”

“We could make some of our own.” The guy leaned in and kissed her, with nothing in between them, and it took every ounce of willpower Logan had not to fling himself forward and bury his claws all the way through the Cajun’s chest.

Rogue sighed happily and stroked his face with the back of her hand. “Happy Fourth of July, Remy.”

“You, too, chere. When does dis show of yours start up, anyway?”

“We’ve got some time. Just thank the good Lord that Bobby and Kit pulled Salem chaperone duty this year. We get to miss Scott’s dramatic rendition of ‘ Give me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free’.”

The Cajun laughed, then tightened his arms around her. “Remy be thinkin’ that drive even his wife crazy. De poor bastard don’ know what it take to charm his lady.”

“Hey, now, he’s on the right track by recitin’ poetry.” Rogue made a face, and Logan felt something rip apart inside of his chest at the natural, easy way she acted around this guy. She sounded like…she sounded like she loved him. “ Of course, bein’ Scott, he’d pick a literary one instead of somethin’ romantic, but at least he’s makin’ an effort to keep his very pregnant wife happy.”

It was killing him to watch this, but he couldn’t turn his eyes away. He knew he should pick up his feet and move, but he was rooted dead to the spot.

So this was what Jean meant when she told him Rogue was happy.

He’d spoken with two telepaths today. *Two*, and neither one of them had had the sense to give him some *warning* that he’d find her like this?

“Well, you ain’t my very pregnant wife, but if it’s poetry you be wantin’, chere, Remy happy to oblige. Uh…lemme think. Je ne parlerai pas, je ne penserai rien. Um…damn, I know this – Mais l’amour infini me montera dans l’ame. Dat ’s about all Remy know, one of those things you memorize for the right occasion, but I could see about learnin’ some more.”

“Nah, that was good,” she said softly. “ ‘Specially nice that it’s in French. What’s it mean?”

“‘I won’t talk at all, I won’t think about anythin’,’” he told her, dropping his lips to the column of her throat, and punctuating each word with a kiss. “‘But infinite love will rise in my soul.’ It’s about nature and all dat crap, but close enough, eh?”

She slid one hand up into his hair, her eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, yeah. It’ s nice when you get all romantic on me.”

“Never anythin’ else with you, Rogue. Never.”

“Except on Thursdays in the Danger Room.”

He laughed and pressed his cheek to hers, cradling her close to him just as the first shower of silver and green exploded in the sky. “Open your eyes, chere,” he told her quietly. “Remy don’t want you to miss dis.”

That was when Logan’s feet started working again. He moved back into the hallway, closing the door to the roof behind him quietly. For the life of him, he’ d never be able to figure out how he got himself to his room that night.

He was vaguely aware that this was incredibly un-Logan-like behavior, that in some alternate universe, he’d simply gotten back on the bike and sped off again. In another alternate universe, he’d shoved the red eyed punk off the roof and beaten him senseless for even *looking* at Marie.

Marie who could touch now, Marie who could wear the tops she’d always eyed with envy in the mall, Marie who’d looked so happy in somebody else’s arms.

It hit him when he sat on the bed, the bed they’d been together in so many times, staring at the pattern on the ceiling in numb disbelief. Jean and Chuck hadn’t warned him about Rogue’s new relationship for one very specific reason.

He’d done too good a job of convincing everyone that he didn’t love her. They had honestly thought he wouldn’t care.


The next day was even worse. Logan was busy discussing resuming combat lessons for the older kids with Xavier when Marie walked into the dining hall with Jubilee, giggling in response to some elaborate story her friend was telling.

When she looked up and her eyes met Logan’s, she went silent in mid-giggle. All the color drained from her face, but she took a step towards him as if she wasn’t really believing what she was seeing. The only thing that prevented her from coming closer was the way Jubilee’s hand shot out and gripped her upper arm, holding her in place.

“Logan,” Marie breathed, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

Hearing her say his name like that, the way she’d always said it, dug the wounds a little deeper. “Hey, kid.”

He knew as soon as he spoke that it had been *way* the wrong thing to say. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw set, and he could practically see smoke coming out of her ears.

If Xavier, Jubilee, and a host of ankle biters hadn’t been in the room, he didn’t even want to think about the hurt she’d have put on him – the girl had been a natural at hand to hand, and he’d taught her everything he knew.

Jubilee shot him a dirty look and tightened her hand on Marie’s arm. “Babe, why don’t we go sit at the nice big table on the *other* side of the room? You and Wolvie can catch up on days gone by later. Much later. Say, after all the hot beverages have been removed from the room. Right, Professor?”

“That seems wise, Jubilee,” Xavier said sagely. “Logan, I’d like to discuss your plans for…”

Logan tried to look like he was paying attention, but Marie’s muttered comment to Jubilee caught his hearing first. “Funny how he never called me ‘kid’ when he was fucking me.”

“Roguey, honey, Logan’s an ass. We’ve established this,” Jubilee said soothingly. “And anyway, what do you care? You’ve got the catch of the team tucked upstairs, snoring his cute little head off.”

“He told me to get back in bed, but nooooo, I was hungry. Waffles better be damned good this morning. I should have stayed up there with him.”

“Well, you can’t go slinking out of the room now. Just hold your head up high and pretend everything’s fine.”

“Jubes, *nothing* about this is even in the ballpark of ‘fine’.”

Logan, as fascinating as eavesdropping on the women’s conversation may be, if you are intending to resume personal combat lessons, I really must insist on going over these plans with you, Xavier interrupted.

I never get it right with her. Look at her. She’s pissed.

It seems only natural, given the way things ended between the two of you.

I don’t want you playin’ shrink on me, Chuck, Logan warned. I’ll deal with it myself.

He’d tried to deal with it himself, anyway. Rogue had successfully dodged him after breakfast, and the next two times he’d seen her that day, she was never alone.

The third time, he’d nearly been able to corner her in the hallway when two hands reached out and yanked him into a deserted classroom. Logan’s claws shot out as he spun around, but he managed to stop a hairsbreadth before skewering a fuming Scott Summers.

He retracted his claws with a sharp snitk. “Here to welcome the prodigal son home, One-Eye?”

“Something like that,” Scott said tightly. “Believe me, if Jean hadn’t made me promise not to, I’d have a very special welcome planned out. It would involve beating the hell out of you, and then running over whatever was left with the Blackbird.”

“Guess I owe Jeannie one, then.”

“I guess,” he snapped. “What are you trying to pull here, Logan?”

“I’m not explainin’ anything.”

“You owe some people a hell of a lot more than an explanation, pal. She’s *happy*. Happier than I’ve seen her look in a long time, and I’ll be damned if I let you screw that up for her.”

Logan’s blood ran hot in his veins. “What are you, her self appointed bodyguard?”

“Well, *somebody* had to look after her,” Scott said, clenching his hands into angry fists at his side. “She’s with someone who actually cares about her now, Logan. Someone who isn’t using her – ”

His fingers shot out and he grabbed Scott by the collar, nearly lifting him off the ground in fury. “You don’t have the first fucking *clue* what I feel for her,” he snarled, the metal under his skin itching to shoot out and shred something. Some *one*. “Don’t you *ever* tell me that I used her!”

Logan’s anger seemed to calm something in Scott. He shoved him off and made a show of straightening out the collar of his polo shirt. “It’s not just me, you know. You did a shitty thing to Rogue. Don’t try to worm your way back into her life, not when she’s finally put it back together.”

“I’m not – ”

“All that means is you’re not *yet*, because you will and we both know it,” Scott spat. “I’m giving you a preemptive warning out of simple courtesy. You put so much as one toe out of line – incidentally, I’ll be the one determining that line – and I will be all over you.”

“Barkin’ up the wrong tree there, Scooter. ‘Sides, it’d make Jeannie a little jealous. ”

Scott threw him an angry look before marching off in the other direction. Logan wondered why taunting him wasn’t as much fun anymore.


It went on like that for two weeks – Logan trying desperately to get five minutes alone with her, and Rogue taking any and all steps to avoid him. It didn’ t help that she was getting aid in avoidance, either. Every time he turned around, she was taking an engine apart with Scott, at the mall with Jubilee, weeding with Ororo, helping Jean with the nursery…

And more often than not, she was with that fool boyfriend of hers. Siryn, his number one informant, had told him Marie and Remy had been sharing a room for going on three months, since she’d gotten control on her skin, but that was something he already knew. The second night he’d been home, he’d overheard them.

Wasn’t as bad as it could have been, really. Just the headboard crashing against the wall a few times, a muffled cry, laughter. Not nearly as loud as Scott and Jean could get, nothing wild and bed breaking. Soft, slow, and unless you were the Wolverine, relatively quiet.

Somehow, that had only made it worse. He’d forced himself not to get up and walk downstairs, forced himself to lay there and listen as some kind of masochistic penance. Either Marie had started it to get back at him, or Remy had started it to give Logan a reminder that she wasn’t his anymore.

Or maybe they hadn’t had Logan in mind at all. Maybe she’d been getting ready for bed, then looked up at Remy with those soft bedroom eyes Logan remembered so well, and they’d made love because they simply *wanted* each other.

Frankly, he preferred options one or two. Revenge, he knew how to deal with. This was something entirely foreign, and it had turned Logan into hell on a stick in the Danger Room during team training the next day.

Logan had gotten the scoop on Gambit from some of the younger kids, who didn’ t seem to know or care why he’d left. Remy was from New Orleans. He was a friend of Storm’s. He’d showed up a few weeks after Logan had taken off, and he and Rogue had hit it off from the start, (“He looked like he’d been hit in the face with a two by four the first time he saw her,” was the way Siryn put it.) although it had taken another two months before Rogue had really warmed up to him.

He was supposedly great out in the field, although Logan would believe *that* when he saw it. Had cards he’d charge up with energy, had ties to the Thieves’ Guild back in New Orleans, gambled, smoked, drove fast, drank like a fish… with everything he heard, Logan grew more and more convinced that he couldn’t have been worse for Marie.

But the guy was no chicken, Logan had to give him that. He’d walked right up and introduced himself to Logan the same day he’d returned, shook his hand and didn’t even bother trying to charge it, the way Bobby had frozen it back when Marie had been a teenager. Remy met Logan’s eyes, didn’t flinch when he’d squeezed just a little too tightly.

They hadn’t spoken beyond the basic preliminaries that day, but every now and then, he’d turn an eye towards the happy couple and find Remy staring back at him. He never looked nervous, never even looked like he considered him a rival, which bothered Logan. A lot. He simply looked at him like he was trying to size him up, figure out if he *should* be worried.

If Logan had anything to say about it, Gambit should have been preparing for a whole lot of worry. Only the way things were going, it didn’t seem like he had anything at all to be anxious about.

If it hadn’t been for Kitty Pryde, things might have gone on that way forever, with everyone on the team uncomfortable from all the tension.

Kitty and Rogue were pretty close, which was why Logan was surprised when she sought him out and asked if they could talk someplace private. He’d been annoyed, expecting yet another ‘stay away from Rogue’ diatribe, but since he’d always liked Kitty, he took a chance and let her into his room. “Whatcha need, kid?”

“Hasn’t calling a twenty three year old woman ‘kid’ gotten you in enough trouble at this point?” she asked wryly.

He growled at her. “Talk fast, Pryde.”

“I want to help you with Rogue.”

Logan blinked. “Uh.”

“Oh, get off it, Logan,” she said impatiently. “I have *eyes*. She’s pulling out all the stops to dodge you, and I understand why, but I don’t think it’ s helping matters any.”

“Sorry, ki…Kitty, I’m just havin’ a little trouble understanding you. You’ re lookin’ to *help* me?”

Kitty had gotten a lot more blunt than he remembered her. “I think somebody ought to, since you’re doing such a terrible job on your own.”

“Oh, great.”

“Well, the truth hurts. Look, it’s rough on the team, all these unresolved issues between you. Meetings are no picnic when you, Rogue, and Gambit are in the same room, and honestly, it’s a little hard to believe in the Professor’s dream of uniting mutantkind when we’re pitting X-Men against X-Men. You need to sit down and talk it out, because there’s more people involved than only you two, now. Period.”

He sat down on the bed and for the first time, let all the weight he’d been trying to push away come crashing down on his shoulders. He let himself feel the full hurt of the times Marie saw him coming and went in the other direction, the way she walked around hand in hand with Remy, the way her skin was bare and beautiful and he *still* couldn’t touch her. “It’s not that easy,” he said, and for once, let his voice sound exactly how he felt. “She hates me. Kitty, she *hates* me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Kitty told him quietly. There was sympathy in her voice. He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

“Hey, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”

“If she hated you, you wouldn’t be able to hurt her so much,” she said simply. “And you do, Logan. Every time she sees you, it hurts her. I can tell, and I ’m not even Jean.”

“I never meant to – shit, nobody believes me. I never wanted to hurt her. I fucked it up really badly.”

“Yeah, you really did.”

“Thanks, Kitty.”

“What do you expect? You *did* fuck up, *incredibly* badly. Don’t expect anybody to cut you *any* slack, because it doesn’t matter that you didn’t want to hurt her, you *did*.”

“I love her.” It felt good to finally admit it out loud to someone, so he said it again. “I love her.”

She let out a short, annoyed breath. “You could have saved us all a lot of trouble if you’d figured that out before you broke her heart.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kitty came over and sat next to him. She’d never been good at grudge holding. “It’s not gonna be easy.”

“Nothin’ worth doing ever was.”

“You really love her?”

“Is One-Eye a dick?”

“That’s sort of subjective depending on your point of view, Logan. But I’ll take that as a yes.” She crossed her legs and faced him, scrutinizing him closely. “Bobby and I are going out in a little while, but I have some free time ‘ til then. How do we get her to give you a second chance?”

Hope flared in his heart, so strong and hot that for a moment, he couldn’t place it for what it was. “You think I’ve got a shot?”

“I’m talking about friendship, Logan,” she said gently. “Maybe not even that much, maybe civility is the best you can hope for. It’s kind of up to Rogue.”

“All I need is to talk to her,” he told Kitty. “I can work with just talking to her.”

She smiled and patted his hand. “Well, that I think I can take care of.”


Kitty had been as good as her word, and her ‘master plan’ had been annoyingly simple. She’d come into Rogue’s classroom and started up a conversation once the class cleared out, then simply ducked out after a few minutes, leaving Rogue alone. Leaving Rogue with nobody else to duck behind, pull into another room, or start up an involved debate with.

Which was when Logan came in and closed the door behind him.

“We need to talk,” he said, figuring he might as well jump in headfirst and leave out the preliminaries.

Rogue looked at him skeptically before turning her attention back to the pile on papers on her desk. “Now isn’t the greatest time, Logan.”

“Well, then you pick a time what works for you and we’ll have it out then.”

“Never would actually be perfect for me,” she snapped. “I’ve got nothin’ to say to you. Get out of here.”

“Gonna have to move me, Marie – Rogue. I’m sick of these passive-aggressive avoidance tactics you’ve been running. Ain’t like you.”

"How the fuck would you know what I’m like anymore?” Rogue asked sharply. “ You’ve been gone a long time, Logan. Things change.”

He figured this would be going better if he wasn’t so goddamned fixated on how gorgeous she was when she was angry. “I guess they do. I leave town for a little while – ”

“More like you run out of town, burnin’ rubber behind you – ”

“And when I get back, Jeannie’s pregnant, got some new members on the team, and you’ve got your skin under control,” he finished calmly. “Makes a guy wish he’d stuck around so he could see those changes happening.”

She took a deep breath, visibly making an effort to calm down. Her hands had curled around the edge of her desk, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. “ What do you want, Logan?” she asked quietly.

“I want to tell you that I’m sorry.” Simple. Neat. Effective.

“That doesn’t mean shit.” Maybe not so effective.

Logan took a few steps toward her, encouraged by the fact that she didn’t back away. “I screwed up, Ma– Rogue ,” he told her honestly. “You deserved – hell, you deserve – better than that. You always did. I took the chickenshit way out. I hurt you, and I never, *ever*, wanted to do that.”

“Well, you did. Pretty damn effectively, too.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. For everything. If I could take it back…you gotta believe that I’d do everything different.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “You think one little ‘I’m sorry’ coupled with the puppy eyes makes up for that, Logan? Any of it?”

“No,” he admitted. “I’m just kinda hopin’ it’s a start. I miss you.”

Her eyes sparked with anger once again. “No. No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come in here and tell me you made some huge mistake and that you *miss* me and expect me to just – you can’t *do* that, Logan, it’s not fucking *fair*.”

“Marie, I’m not asking you to – ”

“Rogue! Goddamnit, it’s *Rogue*!”

“*Rogue*,” he said, making an effort to keep his voice under control. “I know you’re with the Cajun now – ”

“I love him. I’m not just ‘with’ him, I’m in love with him.”

That cut. The unquestioning, matter of fact way she said it sliced him all the way down to a place where it fucked around with the adamantium until it hit whatever bone was left underneath. “I get that. I just…want things to go back to the way they used to be.”

“Logan – ”

“Friendship, Rogue. I’m talking friendship. I want that back. I’m not looking to cause any problems between you two.” It marked the third lie he told her. He wanted more, and he’d always want more. But if he could have that much…it was like he told Kitty. Baby steps. Work with what you get.

Rogue sighed and pressed a hand to the side of her head. “I hate you so much right now, Logan,” she told him, and when she looked up, her eyes were wet. “ Do you have any idea how much you, as a person, suck right now?”

“Oh, hell, I didn’t mean – shit, don’t cry. I’m bad with cryin’. Get pissed again, okay? Throw things, kick a dog. Kick Scooter. I know how to deal with that.”

And then the amazing thing happened.

She laughed.

“I hate that I miss you, too,” Rogue told him, wiping impatiently at her eyes. “And I can’t forgive you, Logan, I can’t tell you it’s all better just like that, because it’s not. Maybe not for awhile. I know you’re tryin’, but I can’t just *forget*.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“You know I should tell you to get the fuck out of my classroom and never come near me again, right?”

“Wouldn’t blame you.”

“I wish to God I didn’t… I still need you in my life.”

It cost her something to say those words, but she’d still said them. He could have let out a howl that would have made Siryn’s sonic blasts sound like a whistling tea kettle. “You’re sayin’ – ”

Rogue held up one hand. “I’m sayin’…I’ll try, okay? I’ve had eight months to mellow out. We were friends before we were anythin’ else, and even when you do stupid, jackass, mean, hurtful things, you’re still Logan. That counts for a lot more than I’d like it to.”

Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door, and Remy poked his head in. He gave Logan a cool look before looking towards Rogue. “Chere, de high council of X-Women is requestin’ your presence. Jubilee’s tearin’ apart all de girls’ closets on de second floor, lookin’ for sometin’ to wear on her date, and you de one who stopped her last time dis happened.”

Rogue groaned. “Damn that woman. Did you at least keep her out of *my* closet? ”

“Left Johnny guardin’ de door,” he said with a smile. “Best get movin’, girl.”

“Gonna crack her skull this time, I swear,” she grumbled. “Logan, we’ll… talk later, all right?”

“Yeah, all right,” he agreed as she scurried towards the door, pausing only to drop a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek and a murmured ‘thanks, sugar’ in his ear. Once Rogue was out of sight, though, Logan fixed Remy with his most insolent stare. “Somethin’ you wanna say to me, Cajun?”

His grin was infuriating. “Not dat I can think of, homme.”

“If you’ve got any manly threats runnin’ around in your head, you’d do better to get ‘em out now.”

“Dis ol’ thief would tell you to stay away from Rogue if there was anythin’ to worry about.”

“You so sure you don’t?”

Remy looked him up and down, disdain radiating from his every pore. Logan clenched his hands into fists, trying to hold onto the good feeling left from Rogue telling him she needed him in her life instead of mentally running through scenarios in which he could take this punk apart piece by piece. “Ain’t you she comes home to every night, mon ami. Way she tells it, wasn’t ever you she came home to, because you were blind enough to let her go.”

“Yeah, well, things change.”

“Dey changed in Remy’s favor de day you left town, and I’m plannin’ to keep de odds in my favor,” he told him, leaving the room without a backwards glance.


Things moved slowly with Rogue, but they moved. She hadn’t let him all the way back into her life, but she’d given him little pieces. Wry grins, a quick pat on the shoulder after a training session, cracking jokes and playing pool with him one night when a bunch of the team went down to a bar in Salem, her friends gradually letting go of their open hostility.

It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. He warned himself not to rush her, to wait until he was sure.

The problem was, waiting would have been infinitely easier if LeBeau hadn’t been there at every damn turn.

Where Logan got grins, Remy got slow, private smiles.

Where Logan got a slap on the back, Remy got her arm around his waist.

Where Logan got games of pool, Remy got Rogue on his lap after the game was finished, one hand on her thigh while she drank out of his glass.

Remy watched every one of Logan and Rogue’s interactions with something that was close to disinterest, completely secure in the fact that he was Rogue’s man. He treated Logan the same way he treated Bobby, or St. John, or Scott when they spent time with her – like he was just a close friend who had a complete lack of interest in pursuing anything further.

It grated on Logan like nothing else.

If he hadn’t thought there was hope, he would have cut loose. But every so often, his gaze would lock with Rogue’s, and he could feel it. The connection that had always been there between them, burning hot and strong, glimpses of something more than friendship showing through Rogue’s eyes until she’d force herself to look away.

She might love Remy, but she wasn’t ‘just friends’ with Logan, either. He felt it, the way he’d always felt her, and he was sure with the right opportunity …

Feelings like that weren’t something you could deny, not forever. It was going to be worth it.

His chance came on an early morning in late August, a few days after Jean had given birth to her son. The baby was wailing at the top of his lungs, and he finally gave up on trying to sleep. He headed down to the gym for an early workout, and Rogue had been there, beating the life out of one of the hanging punching bags.

The expression on her face was murderous, so he let her vent whatever her frustration was for another few minutes before announcing his presence. She was gorgeous in her anger, a whirlwind of fit limbs and precise technique, brown and white hair flying around her, face glowing with exertion.

She was gorgeous any way, he admitted to himself. She always would be.

Finally, he cleared his throat. Rogue jumped in surprise, then ducked as the bag swung back at her. “Dammit, Logan! Make some noise next time!”

“I did,” he said dryly, walking over to her. “You were too busy kicking the shit out of this thing to hear me.” He rested one hand on the bag, steadying it. “What’s got you so riled?”

“I’m not riled,” she told him, mopping her forehead with one bare arm. He wanted to reach out and touch that arm, wrap his fingers around warm, damp skin. He hadn’t touched her, really, properly touched her, in almost ten months now, and he’d spent the last two of those months in such close proximity to touching that it was just painful at this point. “I couldn’t sleep. For such a tiny little thing, Nathan’s got some huge lungs. Kept me awake.”

“Liar.”

“Dammit, Logan,” she said once again. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t…*know* me like that.”

“Sorry to say I don’t have much control over that, darlin’,” he told her, grinning slightly at the faint blush that rose to her cheeks, visible even under the glow from her workout. “So what’s the problem?”

“It’s nothin’. Remy and I had an argument. Stupid one. He pissed me off.”

Logan tried not to smile. “Yeah?”

“You’re not gettin’ more than that,” she said firmly. “No details on my love life.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame, darlin’. There’s nothing more fascinatin’,” he drawled, wondering if that had been pushing it. But she slapped his shoulder halfheartedly, and he knew it had been okay. “Sure you don’t want to talk or some shit?”

“That’d be what I have girlfriends for. Not ex-boyfriends.”

“Hey, I can be sensitive. Sometimes.”

She snorted. Actually snorted at him. “Logan, the day you don the Mr. Sensitivity hat is the day Jubilee talks Scott into playing a public game of naked Twister.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You play naked Twister? You know, if you’re ever in need of a referee…”

“Very funny.”

“Just thought I’d offer. Worth a shot.” He glanced out the window. The sun was just barely coming up. They had at least another hour, and this was the easiest conversation they’d had since he’d come home. He decided to push it one more step. “Still got some tension to work out?”

Rogue folded her arms over her chest. “There are so very many ways that could be interpreted.”

“Come on, I’m serious.”

“I could use a little more ass kickin’ time,” she admitted.

“So take me on.” His heart pounded a little more fiercely in his chest, but he forced his face to stay casual. “Let’s do some sparring.”

They used to spar all the time. More often than not, it’d end with one or the other pinned to the ground, a hungry gleam in both of their eyes, and an incredibly hurried trip upstairs to the bedroom.

“Logan, I don’t know…”

“Afraid you can’t beat me?” he taunted, letting nothing, nothing, *nothing* show.

Her eyes changed from wariness to a sudden, fierce kind of joy. “You can talk the talk, sugar, but I’ll take your ass to school.”

It was the first time she’d called him ‘sugar’ in too damn long. He grinned and rushed her, barely feeling it when she landed a direct kick in the center of his ribs.

They threw punches, tackled, kicked in the kind of balls-out, anything goes grappling session he hadn’t indulged in since his last cage fight. But this was different. Those matches were empty, they were a way of reiterating that this was all he had, this was all he was. There was never anything underneath.

This was Marie – he let himself think of her as Marie for right now. This was Marie, matched evenly enough with him. This was hearing her breathless sort of laugh, this was watching her eyes light up and realizing he was the one who was allowing her to let go of everything that made her so angry. This was her hair whipping him in the face and being so caught up in the familiar scent that she landed an easy sucker-punch to his gut.

This was having the woman he loved focused on nothing but him for a full fifteen minutes, bare skin brushing against bare skin and knowing that there couldn ’t be anything wrong with the world as long as he could have *this*.

Their match finally ended when he got his arms around her, pinning her hands to her side and effectively cut off her struggling. “Call it a draw,” he said, breathing heavily. “You’ve gotten better.”

“Scott’s been drillin’ us night and day, I ought to have,” she told him, laughter still in her voice.

She hadn’t made any move to slip from the circle of his arms. He growled low in his belly and felt her tremble against him. Watched goosebumps rise across the back of her neck, and thought, God. Please.

She smelled like she wanted him. He could feel the rush of want flooding through her body, and he tightened his grip ever so slightly. “Didn’t quite wipe the floor with me, though,” he told her, hearing her sigh when his breath touched her skin. “We’ll go for a rematch sometime.”

“Sure. Sure, we will,” she answered unsteadily. “I should probably…”

“Don’t,” he said, mouth right next to her ear. “Don’t go.”

“God, Logan,” she breathed.

It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. He bent forward and touched his lips lightly to the back of her neck. Skin to skin, kissing her the way he’d spent so many nights dreaming.

For a single instant, it felt like she was going to melt against him. Let him take her in his arms, let the waiting be over. She let out a soft noise, and encouraged, he continued kissing the column of her throat, wanting so much more, but still thinking that he could do this forever.

Then suddenly, she jerked like she’d been stabbed with a red hot poker. She pushed herself out of his arms and backed towards the door, her face somewhere between angry and tempted and horrified. “Remy. Shit. I can’t do this. I’m not gonna do this.”

“Rogue – ” he began, reaching out for her.

“No. No, Logan, I’ve got to go,” she told him, then ran out of the gym before he could make another move to stop her.


Gambit watched him more closely in the days that followed, the disinterest gone from his eyes and replaced with something else altogether. Logan wished he’ d come right out and challenge him, do *something*, but he’d been around long enough to know that it wasn’t the Cajun’s way.

The man had a temper on him, that was sure. He was fiery and fierce – Logan had seen real, hot anger burning behind those red eyes when they were thrown into combat situations, seen him taunt the bad guys and throw his cards as wickedly as Logan himself unleashed his claws.

When it came to Rogue, though, he consistently refused to make a spectacle of himself. He’d be sarcastic and cutting, but he would never come right out and say a word to indicate that he knew Logan was flat-out after his girlfriend.

He knew something had shifted, though. That much, Logan was sure of.

Rogue wasn’t going out of her way to avoid Logan, but she wasn’t going out of her way to spend time with him, either. If anything, she seemed to be around Remy even more after that morning in the gym. The next time Logan saw her, she ’d been in the garage with Gambit, tooling around with the engine in one of Scott’s cars. Her hair was pulled back, and there were grease smudges on her face as she gave a very Scott-sounding explanation of the difference between a four cylinder and a six cylinder.

Her explanation was cut short when Remy grabbed her around the waist and hauled her up against his chest. She laughed and whispered something in his ear that even Logan, with his heightened senses couldn’t make out.

He was no stranger to situations like this. Hadn’t he lusted after Jean, even after it had been firmly established that her heart had, did, and always would belong to Scott? But past experience didn’t help when he felt the ache in his gut, or the times he *wanted* Remy to goad him into doing something stupid so he could at least have an excuse for fucking him up.

This was Rogue. When it came to her, everything was an entirely different ball-game with a set of rules he couldn’t interpret. It was love, and he hated it. He didn’t want to deal with it, not if it was always going to hurt like this.

Why was he still holding on?

Every time their eyes met, every time he caught her scent, every time her turned his head and she was there, looking him with want and pain and confusion… *that* was why he was still holding on. Because he knew she felt something, goddamnit, and he wasn’t going to lose something as important as this. He’d been the one to fuck it up. He had to be the one to put it to rights.

But patience had never been his strong suit, and he couldn’t hold out forever. He was going insane.

When Remy went to New Mexico with Storm on a recon mission, Logan’s patience gave out.

The night after Gambit left, he caught Rogue alone on the hallway. He didn’t have a plan, and he wasn’t worrying about subtlety or finesse. Not anymore.

She walked past his room, and he simply stepped out of the door and caught her by the waist. “Logan, what – ” was all she managed before he lowered his mouth to hers, determined to pour every single hour, minute, *second* of wanting into the kiss. He knew it was stupid, and he didn’t give a shit.

He fully expected her to slap him, or at least retaliate with something close to it. The last thing he’d expected was for her arms to slide around him, crushing him closer. Her lips parted under his, her hands tangled in his hair, and he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth as he pulled her into his room and kicked the door shut behind them.

It was better than he remembered, having her in his arms again. She was kissing him back, her hands running underneath his shirt and up his back. Her smell, the way she tasted – it had never been like this through fabric and coupled with the fact that she wasn’t turning away – it was everything he’d wanted for months.

“I can’t do this,” she finally mumbled between frantic, desperate kisses. “ Logan, we’ve got to…I can’t…”

“Marie,” he groaned, the name almost hurting in his mouth. He cupped her face in his hands, inwardly marveling at the fact that he was really and truly touching her. “I know I fucked up, but…hell, I came back. I came back because I couldn’t *not* be near you. It was always you, and it took me too damn long to see that.”

“Logan,” she said, and oh, God, she was going to cry. “Don’t say that. Please.”

“Baby, I have to say it. It’s the truth.” He rested his forehead against hers, drew her closer and just held her.

“What happened to just wanting friendship?” she asked, brushing her lips over his once again.

“Hell with it,” he said simply. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened. “You said – when you left – ”

“I lied.”

“Logan, you *idiot*!” she said, burying her face in his chest. “What the fuck is *wrong* with you?”

“You want the list alphabetically, or chronologically?” He lost his hands in her hair, lifted her face to his to kiss her again. “I’m going nuts without you, Marie.”

“S-so am I,” she said softly, tightening her grip on him. “I want…you left, Logan. You just *left*. You made me think…”

“I’m sorry,” he told her again. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll say it every day if that’s what you need.”

Her eyes were still so sad, but she hadn’t let go yet. “I can’t do this again. I’m not goin’ to.”

Logan’s blood went cold. “Marie.”

“You left,” she repeated. “And I found Remy.”

“The Cajun ain’t part of this.”

“Yes, he is,” she insisted. “He’s always gonna be part of it, ‘cause he’s part of me. I can’t change that. He stayed. He waited. He wanted me.”

“*I* want you,” Logan growled. “Always did.”

“Not enough to stick around. I didn’t think I would, but I fell in love with him.” She let go of him, the tears in her eyes starting to finally fall. “ And I can’t throw him over because you’re back and you want to give it another shot.”

“It’s gonna be different this time,” he told her. “I’m not going anywhere. Jesus H, Marie, it’s the truth.”

“It doesn’t work like that. There isn’t gonna be a ‘this time’. I shouldn’t have – this was a mistake. I’ve got to go.”

He grabbed her arms and turned her back to him. “Tell me you don’t love me,” he said fiercely, echoing the challenge she’d issued him the day he ran out on her.

“I do love you,” she told him, her voice cracking. “I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t. Even when I was hatin’ you, I loved you.”

“Then why – ”

“Because love’s not enough. Not even close.”

The silence in the room was so total that he was certain he could hear her pulse. It hit his gut, fierce and hard, the first shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. He hadn’t given her a damn thing, and he’d never promised her *anything*. Never even told her he loved her until now.

But Remy had, and he had nothing else to compete with that.


Remy came back three days later. Logan watched their reunion from his window until they walked out of his range of sight, but he stayed standing and staring out the window for lack of knowing what else to do.

Jean came into his room with Nathan cradled in her arms. “You okay?” she asked tentatively.

Since it was Jean, and since she was carrying a baby, she didn’t get a bellyful of metal. “Just great.”

“He isn’t a better man than you, Logan. He’d be the first to admit it.”

“Yeah?” His bark of laughter was short, harsh, and decidedly unfunny. “Then why is he the one walkin’ off into the sunset with Rogue?”

"That’s just how it happened,” Jean told him softly. “She moved on because she didn’t have another choice.”

“She had me.”

“You left her.”

“I *know* that,” he growled, restraining himself from roaring only because of Nathan.

“We both know Rogue, Logan. She’s not the type of woman to sit around and wait for someone who she doesn’t think is coming back.”

“I told her I would, dammit!”

“For the team. It makes a difference.”

“And it did me a shitload of good, too, huh?” He gripped the windowsill until he heard the wood start to crack. “I may as well just take off again.”

“Don’t you *dare*,” Jean said sharply. “You are done with running, understand? You came back. It’s time for you to stay here. This is where you belong.”

“Jeannie – ”

“Don’t you ‘Jeannie’ me. We need you, Logan, and running away didn’t solve anything before. It just gave you a whole new set of problems.”

“I can’t watch her do this shit with some other guy, Red. Okay? I can’t.”

“You seem to have been handling it fine up until now. Are you wimping out already?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought you were on his side.”

“I’m not on anybody’s side. I’m just saying that there’s nothing wrong with… giving her a choice.”

Logan let out a heavy breath and turned his gaze back out the window. “I think she chose already, Jeannie.”

Jean shifted Nathan in her arms, smoothing the dark fuzz on top of his head. “ I’m not offering any answers, but I think Rogue has too many things to sort out in her own mind before she determines her whole future. It threw her when you came back. You *have* to see that she’s confused.”

“She’s not the only one,” he muttered.

“She loves him, sure. But she hasn’t let go of you, either. Logan, there’s so little space between all of us here.” She nodded her head to indicate the rest of the mansion. “All of us are inexorably going to be tangled up in each others’ lives, and sometimes it’s hell trying to find room to think when there’s so many people pushing for a part of you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that nothing about this situation is clear cut, not with so many people having so many different opinions they’re sharing,” Jean told him calmly. “You’re here. She needs to see that you’re here for good, no matter what. She needs the trust back. And after that…if it happens, it happens.”

Logan grinned slightly. “You’re good, Jeannie.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to dwell on things like this,” she said wryly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a little boy who needs his diaper changed.”

She left the room, and he turned his attention back to the window. Some kids had started up a game of kickball, with Hank refereeing and Bobby pitching. When Rogue and Remy came back into sight, he kissed her, then ran off to play catcher. Rogue turned her eyes up to his room, but Logan was pretty sure that she didn’t see him.

Maybe Jean had a point. It could be about a thousand things besides love.

She might be somebody else’s today, but there was a part of her that was always going to be Logan’s. If she needed time, she had it. He just had to make sure she knew that he wasn’t giving up yet, he could wait her out.

But Jean was right: he wasn’t running off again. This was his home, and no matter if Rogue chose him or not, he’d promised her that he would come back.

He was done lying to her.

The End.


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