"Get to the jet," shouted Wolverine savagely, "I'll get the kid!"

Cyclops knew better than to argue when his colleague wore that half-crazed expression on his face. He tugged Jean's arm and they charged out of the chamber that was caving in around them. Kitty dashed through the wall, a feat that had gained them access minutes earlier, while Storm followed. The rumble that came shortly after their departure told Logan that the jet had taken off. He turned his attention to the young girl several feet away, fighting for her life. Her opponent, a tall woman with unnatural strength, was winning. He had downed his own adversary and headed towards Rogue, claws extended. Moments later, he was pulling an exhausted girl behind him as he threaded through growing mounds of rubble, heading for a deserted corridor. They kept running until, finally, the starry night sky greeted their eyes. Rogue was shaking. With fear, excitement, or sheer fatigue, he couldn't tell. Tonight had been her first mission with her fellow X-Men. Her recently acquired computer expertise had been helpful in gathering important information from the Brotherhood mainframe. The information included a list of members and their whereabouts. Unfortunately, Professor Xavier's impressive Cerebro machine couldn't find them all.

"I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I," he said to her.

She smiled weakly and squeezed his gloved hand with her own. A familiar lump rose in his throat. As theybegan to walk in the darkness, his desire to touch her nearly overwhelmed him. He recalled her innocent, frightened eyes staring at him from under her hood in that smoky bar six years ago. He'd touched her twice and it had nearly killed him. Of course, he had nearly killed her once, so he considered them even. Shortly after that first meeting, she had been cruelly stolen away and recovered again. Then, like a fool, he had left her of his own accord. He had believed himself infatuated with the lovely Doctor Grey, now Summers, but had realized that he was hiding from himself the true object of his admiration.

She was a little brown-eyed girl with a white streak in her soft brown hair. Of course, she wasn't a girl anymore. She was a young woman of 23. At the time of his departure, he had left feeling guilty regarding his feelings for someone who could very well be decades his junior. He had returned two years later to find her changed. Not only was she a beautiful young woman, but she was also the most grown-up 19-year-old he had ever met. She had quickly forgiven him for leaving simply because he had returned. And because he told her the truth: he had come back because of her.

From that moment on, they had shared a love and intimacy that went beyond physical expression. Her thin, gloved fingers intertwined with his were enough. Burying his face in her abundant brown hair, feeling her curled up next to him at night, fingers clutching his shirt, hearing her voice every day was all enough for him. Most of the time. Whenever he found himself thinking of wanting more, he reminded himself that he was lucky that she could see past his rough exterior and love him for who he was. Or rather, in spite of who he was.

"Logan, look."

The small voice made him jump a little as it interrupted the soft crunch of their feet on the ground. He followed the length of her arm as she pointed toward the sky. A light was approaching them at an alarming speed.

"Is it the jet," Marie asked.

"Doubt it. Jean was hurt a bit, so I think they would've taken her back to Xavier before coming for us."

He placed his hand on her back protectively and guided her into the shadows of the night. A light thud told him that the craft had landed. A voice, old and pleasant, called out into the darkness.

"I know you are out there, Mr. Wolverine. You, too, Miss Rogue. I haff been vatching you for some time and I only vant to help. If you vill listen, I think you vill be very interested in vhat I haff to say."

Wolverine didn't move a muscle and neither did Rogue. Mr. Wolverine? Miss Rogue? What was this guy about?

"I am a colleague of Professor Xavier's."

This caught his attention, but he remained wary and still in the shadows that enveloped them.

"Please...as I said before, I only vant to help you. I am avare of your...ah...situation and I may haff a solution."

Trust him. Rogue gasped slightly at the sudden appearance of a voice in her head. Professor? she inquired wordlessly. Of course. He is an old friend. A trustworthy friend, I promise. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered lightly into Wolverine's ear.

"You sure," he replied in a throaty whisper.

"Yes."

Still holding hands, they emerged from the darkness and rounded the edge of the precipice that had sheltered them. A pleasant-looking old man with a rather long nose stood beside the boarding ramp of a sleek, silver jet, remarkably similar to one that resided beneath the Xavier School in Westchester. Two women in white lab coats stood behind him. Logan had shifted Marie behind him slightly and had freed his hand from hers. Now they were both at his side, fingers twitching, adamantium claws at attention just below the skin, should the need for self-defense arise.

The old man raised his hands in front of him in a gesture of surrender.

"I am not armed and neither are my assistants. I haff been vurking on a solution to your problem and I vould like you to accompany me to my home. That is vhere my lab is."

He said this as though it were a perfectly reasonable request and that having a lab in one's home was the standard.

Rogue now stepped out from behind Wolverine and gripped his arm with both hands. He shot a quick glance at her before returning his attention to the people before him. She pressed against him and squeezed his arm reassuringly before gazing up at him with her coffee-brown eyes.

"Let's go," she said quietly, "I want to hear what he has to say."

Taking a deep breath, Logan nodded and, against his better judgment, followed the old man and his two assistants to the jet.

The interior of the jet could not be more different from the one he was used to. The two women silently seated themselves at the control panel, which appeared to be the only familiar feature. Instead of silver, ramrod-straight seats, there were two curved beige chairs for the pilots that looked rather inviting. On either side of the cabin, there were two long benches, which also looked soft and comfortable. A warm light, provided by lamps built into the walls, filled the space, a nice change from the harsh flourescents in their own vehicle. As Wolverine and Rogue gazed about the interior of the craft, their host suddenly grabbed his head and began shaking his hands in the air.

"Vhere are my manners? No vonder you vere so apprehensive. I haffen't even introduced myself. My name is Cornelius Verhoeven. Er...Dr. Verhoeven, I suppose. My assistants are Dr. Anna Kaufman and Dr. Elizabeth Singer."

Each of the women turned and offered a smile and a brief nod at the mention of her name.

"I'm Marie."

Rogue stuck out her gloved hand with a smile. Dr. Verhoeven took it and shook kindly. Logan merely nodded and absentmindedly placed his hand on Marie's back again. The doctor smiled at Logan and returned his nod.

"Now. Let us sit and buckle ourselves before ve take off. Vhen Charles gave me this jet, I said to him 'These nasty seats vill haff to go. My back can't take them.' So I replace them vith these nice benches. Much more comfortable, yes?"

"They are, Dr. Verhoeven. I suppose we might all get too comfortable in our jet with seats like these," said Rogue. Wolverine was beside her, eyes shifting back and forth from the doctor to the two women piloting the vessel.

"Yes... But I am not always going off to fight the evil in the vurld, am I? No...I am just an old scientist, trying to do some good. That is vhat I hope to do for you: a bit of good."

"Exactly what is our problem and what sort of solution do you have," Logan asked, with a bit more than a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Vell, I don't vant to talk about that right avay. I vant to tell you vhat I do. Quite simply, I help mutants who have trouble controlling their gifts. Your friend Mr. Scott? You know him, vith the glasses?"

Rogue nodded, Wolverine grunted and rolled his eyes.

"I made those," he said, smiling proudly, "Ruby qvartz. Von of the strongest materials in the vurld. Strong enough to contain the light beams that are shooting out of his eyes. And you know you're friend, Miss Kitty?"

Once again, the two X-Men nodded.

"She vas alvays falling sroo the floors and getting stuck in the ground. I help her learn to control her power. Now, she only valks sroo valls vhen she vants to."

Rogue smiled and leaned forward a little.

"Can you help me control my power?"

"That, I don't know. Valking sroo valls and siphoning the life energy out of other people are two very different things."

He saw the crestfallen look on her face and added quickly,

"But don't vurry, my dear, don't vurry. I haff an idea that I think vill vurk. Ah...here ve are."

As the jet descended into a subterranean landing bay, Wolverine and Rogue caught a glimpse of the backside of an impressive mansion, its many windows darkened for the night. He took her hand in his again as the doctor spoke.

"It is such a big place," he said, shaking his head with a pleasant smile, "Many of the mutants whom I haff helped haff stayed vith me to help me continue my research so that I might help others."

"How did you meet the Professor," Marie asked.

"I met Charles many years ago, vhen ve vere both young and eager to display our talents. He is a telepath, as you know, and I vas telekinetic. Ve vurked very vell together and vith another mutant I believe you haff met."

"Magneto," growled Wolverine. He could never forgive him for nearly stealing away forever that person he would have been lost without. His grip around Rogue's hand tightened a little.

"Yes, Magneto. Vhen he left us to pursue his own interests, Charles and I decided that it vould be best if ve, too, separated and offered two havens for mutants instead of von. Young people vould go to him to learn in an environment in vich they vould be understood and older mutants vould come to me to help vith my research or to conduct studies of their own. There is a small group here that vurks very hard to keep sources in Vashington so that ve may alvays know vhat the government has in store for us. They help the Miss Dr. Grey...oh my! It is Miss Dr. Summers now, yes?"

Rogue nodded with a smile and the doctor continued.

"Vell, they help her make the speech in the Congress vhen that Senator vanted to pass a law to make mutants reveal themselves. So, ve haff many resources here."

He walked down the boarding ramp and Rogue and Wolverine followed. The two assistants remained in the craft, shutting it down.

"First, let us go upstairs and haff a nice cup of tea. There, ve vill discuss your problem and my solution."

They followed him down a very familiar looking set of shining corridors before ascending a set of stairs that opened into a softly lit marble hallway. The soft lighting, coming from a rather marvelous crystal chandelier, did not hide its magnificence, however. Curved staircases climbed up to floors whose halls were lined with gilded doors. Small corridors leading to what appeared to be various laboratories and libraries branched off of the main hall in which they were standing. As Rogue took in the amazing scenery, she had to wonder how Professor Xavier and Dr.Verhoeven were able to afford such splendid quarters. Logan seemed equally surprised at the grandeur of the place, but quickly focused his attention on the doctor and where he was leading them.

In a few moments, they arrived in a large kitchen. Stainless steel counter tops, ovens, sinks and much more shone in the flourescent light the doctor had flipped on with a wave of this hand. He led them through it to a more cozy room large enough to comfortably hold a round wooden table with four chairs, a large glass-fronted cabinet full of dishes, and a small counter top that held a sink and a rather ancient-looking stove, with a set of cabinets above them. He motioned for them to sit at the table. As he did so, two of the wooden chairs moved away from it and Logan and Marie seated themselves. Marie watched as Dr.Verhoeven pulled a box of tea bags out of a cabinet above the sink. She noted, with some amusement, that the kettle sitting on the stove flew to his hand in an instant. No matter how many times she saw Jean use her telekinetic abilities, she never ceased to be amazed. Once the doctor had filled the kettle with water, it calmly settled itself back on the stovetop as a knob turned, as if by an invisible hand, and caused the coils to begin to glow a dull red. Logan had to duck a little as the cabinet containing the dishes behind them flew open and three cups came flying out, followed by three saucers, then three spoons. The dishes arranged themselves on a tray as the doctor pulled a sugar dish out of a different cabinet. He walked over to the table and set the tray down.

"The vater takes a few minutes."

He engaged them in a pleasant round of small-talk regarding the well-being of Charles, his teachers, and his students until the shrill whistle of the kettle interrupted their conversation. Dr. Verhoeven smiled and the silver pot lifted off of the stove and floated toward the table as a hot pad leapt out of a drawer below the sink. Once the kettle was still, the doctor poured a quantity of hot water into each cup.

"Mr. Wolverine, I'm sure you are not vanting sugar?"

Wolverine nodded and grinned a bit: even he was beginning to relax. He received his cup and took a drink, ignoring the scalding heat as the steaming liquid burned its way down his throat.

"Miss Marie, vill two cubes be enough?"

She nodded, accepted her cup, and began to blow gently on the amber surface. The old man helped himself to three cubes of sugar before speaking again.

"Now to answer Mr. Wolverine's qvestion."

"You can call me Logan."

"Of course--thank you. Mr. Logan, you asked me vhat your problem vas and vhat sort of solution did I haff for it. First, from vhat I understand, your problem is that the two of you are very much in love, yet you cannot even touch von another. That is correct, yes?"

Rogue nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the spoon that was stirring Dr. Verhoeven's tea on its own. Noting the saddened look on her face and the grim set of Wolverine's jaw, he added,

"Not many people vould be able to make a relationship like this vurk, but you haff. You haff both been patient for each other and that is very important. I hope that your patience vill be rewarded."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I'm getting to that--you must share a bit of your patience vith me. My colleagues here vill tell you that I sometimes take too long to make my point. But, here ve go: I believe I haff found a solution to your problem, vhich means I believe I haff found a way for you, Mr. Logan, to be able to touch Miss Marie vithout harm to yourself or to her."

Wolverine and Rogue looked at each other. His face was impassive, but his eyes were glinting with a rare sort of happiness. She smiled at him and turned back to the doctor.

"How is this possible?"

"I haff been studying medical records sent to me by Mrs. Dr. Summers and I think that I haff found out exactly vhy you haff the power you haff. It is a very severe form of autoimmune disorder that vas activated by the "X" factor in your DNA."

"Autoimmune disorder," asked Logan, with a scowl.

"Qvite. Her skin acts as von large antibody. The skin of other living creatures is the virus that the antibody believes it must kill. By removing the energy from the skin of the "attacking" creature, Miss Marie's skin elimates the threat it perceives. I think that I can teach her skin to recognize a limited number of people as harmless."

"And you think this will work," she said, hardly daring to hope.

"I do," he said simply.

"You said a limited number...how many?"

"Vell, Mr. Logan... Normally, a genetic autoimmune disorder vould be treated vith a retrovirus, vhich vould rewrite the DNA over time, however, because of the "X" factor, such treatment is not possible in this case. I'm afraid the process is...er...rather painful. Perhaps two or three people, certainly one."

"Painful!? How!?"

The doctor raised his eyebrow at the expression of renewed suspicion on Wolverine's face.

"It involves teaching every cell in her body to recognize your skin at vonce. To do this takes a great deal of energy and vill be painful."

Rogue swallowed the knot in her throat and said quietly,

"Is it like forcing another mutation?"

"Vell, something like that, only it isn't nearly as dangerous... Nothing like Magneto's machine," he added after a brief pause, noting the sudden appearance of fright on her face.

Logan didn't know what to think. He'd accepted the way things were and, now that there was a chance to change... He looked at her as she stared down into her cup, as if the answer was hidden in it somewhere. It wasn't his choice, but he knew what he wanted her to do. If he could touch her, he could kiss her. He could put his hands on her face, he could feel her body...and a whole lot more. She sucked in her breath nd breathed out in a voice permeated by fear...

"I'll do it."

Dr. Verhoeven spent the next hour outlining the specifics of the procedure, which would be performed tomorrow morning after a good night's sleep. One of his assistants, Dr. Singer, came to lead them to a bedroom for the night. Trying to fill the nervous silence, Marie asked her a question.

"How did you come to work for Dr. Verhoeven?"

The young woman smiled as if recalling a fond memory.

"He's my father-in-law. His son, Jack, and I met at Xavier's school. He's telekinetic--like his dad--and I can heal people with my mind."

"How come you're not "Dr.Verhoeven," too, then?"

"Oh, I chose to keep my maiden name. Can't have too many Dr. Verhoevens running around, can we? Jack's an M.D. and his brother is in graduate school--psychology."

Rogue nodded and remained silent for a moment.

"If you can heal people, can you hurt them, too," she asked. Dr. Singer stopped and turned and said, with a sly smile.

"f I wanted to..."

She laughed a little and continued walking.

"I never would unless I had to, though. Jack and I went to New York City once and someone grabbed my purse. The little bastard wasn't fast enough and all I had to do was reach out and touch him. He was out like that," she said with a snap of her fingers.

"That sort of control must be nice," Rogue responded quietly. Dr. Singer paused and did what few people would dare, even when she was clad in a full-body leather suit. The woman gripped her arm and squeezed with a sort of motherly reassurance characteristic of Jean Summers.

"We'll help you."

"I hope so."

Me, too. added Logan silently.

---

They entered a large bedroom containing a highly polished set of oak furniture. Dr. Singer pointed to the door that led to the bathroom and wished them a restful night before shutting the door behind her. Rogue listened to the woman's shoes clacking on the hardwood floor until the footsteps faded away.

"What are you thinking," Logan asked her quietly. She turned to face him. He had removed the leather jacket portion of his suit, leaving his gray t-shirt, and was seated on the edge of the bed. Marie walked over and sat beside him. As his arm came around her, pulling her head to rest on his chest, she spoke.

"I'm thinking that I'm a little scared and very excited."

She turned her head up to look at him. He smiled one of those rare smiles that were always just for her and brushed a stray lock of white and brown hair from her face.

"What about you?"

"I'm thinking that I don't know what I'm thinking."

He had a clouded look on his face which transformed into a different sort of smile, one that gave him an almost drunken expression.

"I think I might be so happy that I don't know how to handle it."

The smile turned into a frown as he added,

"I don't know that I deserve this feeling. 'Course, I've often thought that I don't deserve you."

Logan's broad shoulders fell a little and he bent down enough to kiss the top of her head. Marie got to her knees beside him and threw herself at him, nearly knocking him off the bed, her thin arms gripping him in a surprisingly strong bear hug.

"Please don't say that, Logan," she said as she pulled back. Her gloved hands stroked his bearded cheek, the urge to kiss him almost too strong to ignore.

"I love you. You shouldn't ever doubt that."

He smiled and pulled her close again.

"I know you do. And I love you, too. I'm sorry if I don't say it or show it enough."

"I always know, Logan."

And that was the truth, she thought. Rogue could see his love for her in every movement of his body, in every expression on his face, in every word he spoke to her. She just knew.

Wolverine kissed her hair again and got up to turn out the lights. He lay back down and Marie settled in his arms like she always did, quickly falling asleep. In spite of his desire to watch over her as she slept, exhaustion got the better of him and he, too, drifted away. Soon, his breathing was as even as hers.

---

A knock on the door jerked Logan awake with a start. The sudden absence of warmth and the shifting of his weight as he sat up caused Marie to wake up as well. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 10 a.m. sharp.

"Come in," he called out in a sleepy voice that was considerably less rough than usual. Dr. Singer opened the door slowly and smiled.

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

After two groggy nods, she walked over to the window and jerked on the cord beside it. Heavy curtains jumped open, revealing warm sunlight muted slightly by a second set of gauzy curtains. Logan's eyes adjusted quickly and he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on without zipping it up. Marie, who hadn't changed, walked into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and began to splash cold water on her face. When she had returned, Dr. Singer spoke.

"It is best if you wait to eat until after the procedure."

With an uncomfortable shifting of her arms, she added,

"It's possible that you may get sick. It's to be expected, though, so try not to worry."

She smiled and motioned to them to follow her.

As they entered the hall, Marie was shocked to see such a difference in her surroundings. The gilded doors along the hallway were opening and closing as people came and went. Happy voices chattered up and down the corridors and rapid footsteps echoed above and below them. The dim light of the night before was replaced by bright sunlight flooding through the uncovered windows that lined the upper part of the central hallway. Rainbow colored light was dancing all over the marble floor, for the ceiling was made of stained glass. When the ceiling had been dark and fairly unimpressive the night before, it had escaped her notice. That same quiet entrance hall that she had walked through last night was crowded with people milling about and going in and out of labs and libraries.

Dr. Singer led them down to the first floor and then to an elevator that required a simultaneous palm and retinal scan in order to gain access.

"Welcome Dr. Elizabeth Singer," said a feminine computer voice. The elevator door slid open with a quiet hiss and the trio entered. Once inside, she punched in a code. With a slight jolt, they were carried downward, obviously to the same silvery corridors of the night before.

"This way," said Dr. Singer as she stepped out of the elevator and veered to the right. Another right and then a left and they were in a brightly lit room with an examination table in the middle and a battered wooden desk in the corner that seemed very out of place, especially with what was obviously a state-of-the-art computer system sitting on the top of it.

"Good morning, good morning," said Dr. Verhoeven, standing up from behind the computer.

"I vas just beginning the start-up seqvence."

"Good morning," said Rogue quietly. Wolverine nodded and gripped her hand tightly, just as he had the previous night.

Dr. Verhoeven came up to her and took her gloved hand in his and patted it reassuringly.

"It vill last for only a few minutes. Think of vhat you vill do after ve are finished."

She smiled a little and nodded. He released her hand and turned to Logan.

"I vill need a sample of your blood. I must enter the genetic seqvence into the computer so that it vill know who to make her body recognize."

He pointed to a cart that had just been wheeled in by the second doctor from the jet, Dr. Kaufman. She nodded a greeting and began to gather the necessary items for drawing a blood sample.

Wolverine began to walk over to her, but stopped and turned back to Marie. He couldn't help himself. He laced his fingers into her hair and kissed her bare forehead quickly once...then once more before he continued to the cart and the waiting Dr. Kaufman. He watched her as she removed her leather jacket and her gloves, not even noticing as the woman beside him jerked off his own jacket, inserted a needle into his arm and filled a test tube with ruby red blood. Marie's boots came off next and she sat on the table. Only then did he notice the arm and leg braces attached to the table. He squeezed his eyes shut as flashes of painful memories filled his brain.

The sound of more wheels rolling on the floor forced his eyes open. Dr. Singer had left and returned with another cart, this one overflowing with plastic coated wires tipped with suction cups. Dr. Verhoeven brought a long cord attached to his computer over to Dr. Singer, who inserted the end into an outlet on the cart. The sound of a machine coming to life filled his ears. It beeped and a strip of paper was pushed forth. Dr. Verhoeven tore it off and read it, smiling and nodding approvingly.

"Everything is in order," he said.

Dr. Kaufman was now at the desk inserting the test tube of blood into a glass case perched on top of the hard drive. The case, like the second cart, had wires running from it into the computer.

Rogue watched as Dr. Singer flipped switches and punched buttons on the machine next to the table that she was seated on. Every now and then she turned to look at Logan, who was standing several feet away watching her and the doctors like a hawk. Dr. Singer stopped flipping and punching and asked her to lie down. As she did so, she was surprised at how warm the table was on her exposed shoulders and arms.

"I'm going to attach the wires and I will have to strap you down--you need to be as still as possible so that the suction cups stay in place."

She closed her eyes and felt straps tightening around her ankles, thighs, wrists, and waist. Opening her eyes and shifting her head slightly, she saw Dr. Singer apply a small amount of gel to a suction cup and move to press it on her temple. The older woman paused and turned Marie's head with a maternal smile.

"You're fidgeting. Try not to move so I can place these correctly."

She obeyed and shut her eyes again, willing the butterflies in her stomach to stop fluttering.

Wolverine watched as Dr. Singer placed the last of the suction cups on Marie's prone body. He swallowed nervously. If anything went wrong, if she were hurt... So many different reactions, from insane grief to homicidal rage, zipped through his mind. He jumped as Dr. Kaufman touched his arm, her latex gloves removed. The strangest tingling sensation had spread across his skin where her fingers had been.

"I don't know if you ought to watch," she said cautiously with a shake of her head.

"I'm staying," he said firmly.

"Dr. Verhoeven, I don't believe that he should be here when..."

The aged doctor cut her off mid-sentence.

"If he vants to stay, let him stay," he said, then added with a chuckle, "I'd like to see you try to make him leave, Dr. Kaufman. I doubt even your gifts vould allow you to succeed."

Her mouth set in a thin line, she walked stiffly to the out-of-place antique desk and placed her palm on a flat box that had a sunken imprint of a hand on it that was a perfect fit for Dr. Kaufman. Dr. Singer nodded to Dr. Verhoeven and, with a toss of her head, motioned for Logan to stand behind the computer. She then moved to the top of the table and placed her hands on either side of Rogue's head, inches away from her skin, and closed her eyes.

Dr. Verhoeven took a deep breath and turned to the big man beside him who was rocking on his feet like an expectant father.

"I am going to begin the procedure momentarily. No matter vhat happens, you must not interfere. Dr. Singer will use her power to stabilize Miss Marie's body chemistry while Dr. Kaufman will be regulating the energy flow in order to prevent a power surge."

Apparently, Dr. Kaufman could control electricity--that explained the tingling sensation when she had touched him, thought Logan.

"It vill take two minutes," he said to him before raising his voice and saying to Marie, "I am beginning the procedure, now. We are all here to help you if anything goes wrong."

"I'm here, Marie," Logan called out, unable to stop himself.

Another thick swallow and he watched the doctor press a button on the keyboard before him. A silver needle extended within the glass case containing the blood sample, punching through the rubber stopper and resting in the thick liquid. An audible surge of power greeted his ears and Dr. Kaufman's body jerked and she inhaled slightly. Blue sparks were playing at her fingertips. Dr. Singer's face remained calm as she took a deep breath and held her hands still.

Marie had heard the power surge and felt it, too. Oh god... her mind screamed. Oh, god, it hurt. Her body arched and she felt as if every bone in her body was breaking, leaving razor-sharp splinters embedded in her curling flesh. She ground her teeth together in an effort to control the animalistic howl of pain that was fighting for escape. If she screamed, Logan would snap. Every inch of her murderous skin was on fire, every nerve in her body was being savaged by white-hot claws of burning energy. She knew Dr. Singer was doing her best to dull the pain--she couldn't imagine what it would be like if she weren't there. Jesus...it's got to be almost over. Please... Tears squeezed out of her eyes as ragged breaths tore in and out of her lungs. It felt like an eternity. The straps were beginning to cut into her wrists and ankles. And then, the pain just stopped. She dropped back onto the table with a thump. She couldn't feel anything as her head lolled senselessly from side to side, her eyes unable to focus on the two dark shapes moving toward her. The heat that had tried to tear her apart one molecule at a time was replaced with a cold that seemed to embed itself in her bones.

Wolverine's claws had snapped out as he watched his lover's face contort with agony and were only retracted when the silver bar climbing sluggishly across the computer screen completed its path, announcing the operation done. Dr. Kaufman's body gave a shudder and she relaxed and began to walk weakly over to Dr. Singer, who was on her knees breathing heavily and resting her forehead on the table. Dr. Verhoeven, stood and walked over to Marie and began unbuckling the straps that held her limp body in place. As he removed a wrist strap, he checked her pulse and then looked at Logan, smiling.

"She is, of course, very veak, but she vill be all right."

Logan had unbuckled the strap around her waist before noticing that the remainder of the constraints were coming undone by themselves.

Dr. Verhoeven helped Dr. Kaufman support Dr. Singer and the three of them left the room, Dr. Verhoeven dimming the lights behind them.

Logan's eyes adjusted quickly. He reached out a hand and placed it on Rogue's clammy skin. Nothing happened. He smiled as the most wonderful and...foreign feeling of pure joy filled him. One hand slid beneath the small of her back, the other beneath her shoulder. With his help she sat up and looked up at him, an inebriated smile on her tired face. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the table. He placed himself between them and pressed her shivering body as close to him as he could, kissing and stroking her dampened hair. Logan could feel her arms, pale and bare, on his own as she wrapped them around his torso weakly. She tilted her head back to look at him again and he saw tears of pain and happiness mingling on her cheeks. He bent down to kiss them away because now he could. Marie's hands floated up to his face as she turned her head to press her lips to his. They relished in the feeling together as that simple kiss lasted longer than any they had ever shared before.

---

The rest of the day was spent in the same room that they had slept in. Rogue breathed heavily in her valium-induced sleep as Logan watched, his hand on her shoulder. The sunlight pouring through the light curtains slowly began to fade. He sat up at the sound of a knock on the door. It creaked open slowly and Dr. Verhoeven entered with a capped syringe in one hand and a pair of latex gloves in the other.

"The jet is ready to return you to your home. If you vill allow me, I vill give Miss Marie this serum, vich vill vake her."

Logan nodded and the doctor donned the gloves, uncapped the syringe, and carefully inserted it into her arm before pushing the plunger. Once he had finished, Dr. Verhoeven wiped away the small spot of blood with a tissue.

"It vill take just a few minutes. One of my assistants vill come for you shortly."

With that, he turned to leave. Logan jumped off of the bed and reached the old man before he could leave the room.

"Thank you," he said genuinely as he stuck out his hand. The doctor took it with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and shook heartily--he knew that such an offering from the tough man called Wolverine was a rare thing, indeed.

"You are very velcome, Mr. Logan."

Then he left the room and shut the door behind him.

Logan turned as Marie began to stir. He walked back to the bed and knelt beside it as she extended her arms in a yawning stretch. She turned her head to the side and saw him. Her sleepy smile flushed his insides with warmth and her arms wrapped around his neck in a tired embrace--she was still weak. Yet all he could think about was how much more beautiful that smile would look tomorrow morning.

---

The ride back to the mansion they called home was uneventful. Rogue leaned against Logan's chest, his arm draped across her back, head resting on her hair. A light thump told them that they had landed. Dr. Kaufman turned and smiled her good-bye while Dr. Singer got up to lead them out.

They had landed on the grassy common behind the school. Marie hugged Dr. Singer and thanked her in her quiet way. The woman returned the hug with the affection of an old friend instead of someone who had known her for only a day. Even Logan smiled and shook her hand. She gave Marie's gloved hand one last squeeze before boarding the jet. When the couple was a safe distance away, the jet lifted off and disappeared in moments.

As they entered the house, they were greeted by a rush of footsteps and the subtle whirring of a motorized wheelchair. Jean and Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, and Professor Xavier entered the hallway by the back door from one of the common rooms in which they had obviously been waiting. Dr. Summers rushed forward and hugged Marie fiercely while Scott offered his hand to Logan, the look on the young man's face one of a friend who was happy for the good thing that had happened for the other--Logan took it and shook with a hint of a genuinely friendly smile on his face. Both men released their grip. While Scott bent to plant a kiss on the smooth hair behind Rogue's ear, Jean gripped Logan's forearm warmly before wrapping her arms around her husband's waist. Ororo hugged them both and then returned to the professor's side. He watched the scene with suspiciously shiny eyes. The wise telepath sniffed and smiled.

"We've been waiting for you. You'll join us for dinner?"

"Of course," said Marie quickly, realizing that she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. Wolverine followed her as they trailed down the hall, toward the kitchen. As soon as they were outside of the doors, Kitty Pryde poked her head through, startling everyone but the Professor and Jean.

"Oh, sorry... It's ready," she said cheerfully before withdrawing into the kitchen again.

The group entered the kitchen to find Kitty placing candlesticks on the wooden table that had been placed in the center of the spacious kitchen. It was set with simple dishes and laden with some of the most wonderful smelling food that Rogue had ever imagined. Bobby and Jubilee set a few more entrees on the table before sitting next to each other on one of two long benches on either side of the table. Professor Xavier moved his chair to one end while everyone seated themselves. St.John aimed carefully at the candles and lit them all with a flick of his wrist and then he, too, sat down.

A pleasant chatter filled the room as the fully assembled team of X-Men talked of people they knew and places they had been and the things they had experienced. Even Logan ventured a laugh or two as Professor Xavier explained the details of his first meeting with Dr. Verhoeven.

Full and tired after a two-hour meal, the team members slowly drifted off to bed. Logan had to fight the urge to sweep Marie into his arms and carry her up the stairs to their bedroom as if her were carrying her over the threshold on their wedding night. In a way, it was their wedding night. In going through such a painful process in order to be able to touch only him, Rogue had given herself to Wolverine, heart, body, and soul. He suspected that he'd had her heart and soul for some time, just as she had (and would always have) his, but he hardly dared to believe it. Marie opened the door to their room, stepped inside and collapsed on the bed. Logan laughed his low, rumbling laugh and sat beside her. She sat up and smiled at him before standing and beginning to peel off her leather uniform.

"I'm exhausted," she said with a yawn.

Logan cocked an eyebrow and said,

"Exactly how exhausted are you?"

She compeletly missed the sly tone of his voice and responded.

"I feel disgustingly dirty. All I want to do is take a shower. And then go to bed."

Her brow furrowed as a rakish grin spread across his rugged features, making his eyes dance.

"What," she said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"You know...we could take a shower together..."