"Whatcha doin', baby?"

Logan jerked from the phone almost guiltily, glancing back to see--Donna? Liz? Nancy?--shit, you didn't forget names like that if you wanted a repeat experience. Blonde hair, brown eyes, great body, smiling sleepily from among the sheets of the cheap motel bed and he put down the receiver quickly, pulling out a lazy grin for her benefit.

"Just gotta check up on someone." The phone hadn't been answered yesterday and it was making him jumpy as hell--though logically, if in fact they had been attacked, the phone would have been wrecked and he'd be getting an out of service notice. Which would put him on the road as soon as he could get his boots from under the bed.

Hell, he was already mapping out the fastest route in his head. Ten minutes or less to get his ass out of here and in the truck. He could do it.

{You're fucking paranoid.}

Logan was perfectly willing to admit in the privacy of his mind that overreacting was his specialty

Liz?--no, Jessica. Got it. Good to go--Jessica rolled over onto her side, baring impressive amounts of skin as she closed her eyes and he took a moment to appreciate the view before getting up, grabbing his beer with one hand and the phone with the other. Disconnecting the phone, he carried it across the room to the second plug by the bathroom door, patiently running the wire underneath, and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

Locked it too. Just in case.

Called again, tapping one finger into the tile and hearing a soft crack beneath his nail at ring six. Normal bathroom floors were never meant for mutants with unusual strength. Where the fuck were they and why the hell didn't Jamie invest in an answering machine, damn it?

At ten rings, the receiver picked up.

"Hello?"

He felt his breath let out in sheer relief. Being Logan, he used anger to convey it. Which of course Jamie would know.

"Where fuck have you been?"

A pause, then Jamie's voice, remarkably amused, reached him.

"Nice to hear from you, Logan. How are ya? Outside. I'm trying to teach your little mutant to cross-country ski. Not the easiest thing in the world, lemme tell you, honey."

Logan slid down the wall, the tiles cool under his jeans, letting out another breath, temper cooling as quickly as it had risen. Relief, he wouldn't start pretending it was anything else.

"You mind gettin' an answering machine sometime?"

"So we can say we're outside to the sheer number of people who don't call?"

Oh fuck her. He almost slammed the phone down, reconsidered, and rested an elbow on his knee.

"How's she doing?"

"She's a bad skier."

He growled, sending Jamie into a fit of laughter that made him grit his teeth.

"Sorry, Logan." She didn't sound very sorry. "She's doing great. Been studying a lot."

That caught his attention.

"Studying?"

"She's finishing high school. I can see the expression on your face now--no, she's doing it from here." A pause. "She'll send in her final work and get her diploma in a few months. We've been talking about college--there's a few schools that are distance-learning, she can do it from here until she gets better control."

Logan did a mental calculation of what he had in cash and how much he'd sent last month, trying, and failing, to figure out tuition costs--how did you find out that stuff anyway, did he need to go personally to enroll her? As usual, Jamie knew what he was thinking.

"She can get financial aid--"

"No. Too much risk--I don't want her investigated. Cash. Tell me how much and I'll pay it when she starts."

There was a time, though sometimes he really wondered if it had been at all real, when he'd had a lot of disposable income. Not that he'd ever used it for anything other than his less civilized pursuits, but still. Now he carried around a mental calculator in his head, constantly toting up columns of numbers with the label Marie just above them. Jamie could talk until she was blue in the fucking face that she had plenty of money--Marie was his responsibility and he'd be damned if anyone else would pay to support her. He suspected Jamie understood his reasons better than he did, if that steady amused gaze he got the last time he went back was anything to go by.

He also knew Jamie worked with him to make sure Marie never had a single clue exactly how much he paid and what he did to get the money. Depending on Marie's retention of his memories, of course, a thing neither he nor Jamie were exactly clear on. Which he had to hope wasn't too much.

Another thought occurred to him. "That yoda idiot you called in--"

"Yoga, Logan. Yoda is a character from Star Wars."

He dismissed the correction. "He get somewhere with her?"

Another pause.

"She's inside now. You wanna ask her yourself?"

That stopped him for a moment, glancing at the closed door, listening to the sounds of--Jessica, got it in one--sleeping. Took in the even breathing--yeah, it was fine.

"Yeah."

How the whole phone obsession had started, he had no idea. Simple, though--just called to check on how Marie was adjusting, ended up popping quarters in a Seattle payphone while Marie told him about how high the snow was and the blizzard that'd almost knocked out the electricity and Jamie locking herself in the cellar by accident. And it'd scared him badly, when he checked his watch and realized he'd stood in relative contentment at a payphone during a fucking rainstorm of all things, boots sinking into the mud, for almost seventy minutes talking to a kid he barely knew, a girl who knew him far too well for his own peace of mind.

It'd been two weeks before he'd broke again, and sitting on the side of the road listening to Marie chatter, he decided, with perfect logic, that he should probably call once a week, just to check and make sure they were okay. Two months later, he had a phone card and a monthly bill that was suspiciously high, and no, it wasn't from calling for pizza deliveries.

He heard Jamie's voice call for Marie--still Rogue to Jamie, he wondered if she'd told Jamie her real name yet--and the frantic pounding of feet across wood and carpet. He winced at the sound of her tripping over something, then the burst of profanity that made him raise his eyebrows.

"That little touch she had with you has definitely lasted," Jamie said, deadpan. "You'd be surprised."

He supposed so--he'd been back twice in the last six months and both times had to admit he'd been quietly amused to see some of his personality grafted onto her. The unmistakable sound of someone getting up, another quick movement of feet, a soft slide on bare wood, and the phone exchanged hands. He could hear her heavy breathing--excitement and exertion, and just beneath it, the sound of metal sliding against bare skin--she was wearing the tags. Never did it when he saw her in person, but according to Jamie, every second when he wasn't there.

And he was not prepared to think about that too much, especially the feeling he got that she held something of his so sacred or the many, many things it could mean. Bad thoughts. One does not lust after kids, no matter how jaded one's life has become.

"Logan?" Breathless. He felt his body relax against the wall, grinning at the sound of her. Shit, that wasn't very Logan-like. His bookie would be shocked.

"Hey, kid."

"How ya doing?" she asked, and he heard the sound of a chair being pulled out, the rustle of her clothes as she settled into the seat, her breathing slowly settling into normal. The sound of the metal sliding against her skin, imagery he exiled from his mind the instant it snuck in to make an appearance. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Jamie says you're gonna graduate."

That chain wasn't very long, he mused. Probably rested just above her bra line. Maybe a little lower.

{Shut up.}

"Yeah." A pause, then her voice changed, just for him, the lightest edge of a drawl. "Thanks for the jacket and the other stuff. It fits perfect--I love it." He heard her settling her feet on the desk--she wanted conversation. No surprise. Logan moved the phone a few inches closer and snagged a towel to brace behind his back. This wasn't macho, but hell, who'd see him?

That jacket. He'd never in a thousand years be able to explain why he'd found himself wandering through downtown Austin, utterly fascinated by a remarkably expensive leather jacket in the window. Dropping a thousand cash on the counter, he'd looked over the three saleswomen--who looked damned nervous, making this very odd exercise sort of fun--and got one who resembled Marie's general figure to pick out the appropriate size. He remembered running his hands over it though--butter soft, black, would easily reach her ankles--she liked full body covering whenever possible.

The saleswoman had been very helpful and one of the more interesting evenings of his life when you got beneath the silk dress she'd dropped on the floor of the motel he'd been staying at. But that wasn't an anecdote he thought Marie would appreciate.

"It was nothin'. You having fun skiing?"

A little growl, that surprised him into chuckling, and she giggled. In his mind, could see her flush of embarrassment, the way her head would tilt a little, and he would bet she was twisting a strand of hair around two of her fingers.

"Sorry. Jamie always jumps when I do that. It's okay--the skiing I mean." The lack of enthusiasm was obvious, and he heard Jamie laughing in the background.

"I never got the hang of it either. Downhill is more fun."

"Jamie said she won't touch a slope for her life. Hey, that's what you said!" Directed to Jamie, he guessed, hearing Jamie's voice protesting. Cradling the phone under one ear, he reached out to find the beer he'd left by the door.

"I'll show you--Jamie is remembering a spring in Colorado. Ask her 'bout it sometime."

A breathy pause, then he heard her breathe out sharply. Stocking up her courage. He took a drink, waiting for her to ask. He had a pretty good idea what she wanted.

"Logan--" she was struggling and he let her, guessing what it was she wanted to ask. "I'm uh--my birthday is next week. I know you're busy and all--"

Busy? He wondered if what he did actually qualified as busy. It was an interesting thought.

"When?"

"Next Monday." She was quick, a little desperate. Like she thought he'd deny the only thing so far she'd ever asked him to do. Logan did some quick calculations and, yes, he could easily be back in Calgary in six days.

"I'll be there."

Though he couldn't see it, he knew she was smiling in relief.

"So how's it going with yoda--"

"It's yoga, Logan. Yoda is--"

"Whatever. How do you like it?"

He could hear the sound of her running her fingers absently through her hair.

"I can manage three positions so far and he's showing me some other stuff--didja know he was a mutant?"

Jamie had said something about that--he'd run the background check on the guy with the help of a former FBI agent while in Atlantic City several months ago. Which had confused the hell out of anyone who knew him even vaguely, but reputation preceded him and they supposed he was out to kill the guy or something and left the entire why issue very much alone. Good for them.

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I can control it, for a little while. Sometimes." The sounds of a phone being shifted from one ear to another. "It's hard, but he says it's going pretty well." Her voice became mischievous. "I don't guess Jamie told you what happened to her when she tried to teach me to ice-skate--"

An hour later--an hour? shit, he was losing it--he heard Jamie call her to start dinner, and reluctantly, she said her good-byes, handing the phone over to Jamie at his request. First question--

"What the hell does she want for her birthday?" This was a point of serious consideration--picking up random items was all well and good, but Logan was having some serious second thoughts about what was appropriate for a birthday gift.

Oddly enough, the first thing that had popped into his mind was underwear, at which point he knew his judgement was not to be trusted.

Jamie chuckled and he listened to her pull out Marie's chair, taking a seat.

"Just you, honey." He growled and she laughed into the phone. "I don't know. Clothes. Jewelry. Girl stuff."

God, jewelry. They'd shoot him on general principle if he tried to go into one of those stores. Logan didn't even think of girl stuff. He had limits.

"You live with her. Gimme somethin' to work with here, darlin'."

"Probably Cuban cigars--she picked up a taste for them--goes outside and smokes when she's under stress."

Logan put down his beer, settling back on the cool tile, every instinct coming alert.

"Stress?"

Apparently, Jamie realized what she'd said and sighed softly. "Logan--"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing--"

"Don't fuck around with me, Jamie. What the hell is wrong?"

A long pause, and he heard the sounds of her fidgeting, finally settling down and he took a breath to calm himself before he started yelling, waking up Donn---shit, Jessica--from sleep. Which he didn't want to do right now.

"I'm not sure. She won't talk to me about it--denies there's anything wrong, which is perfectly natural. So it could be anything. But she's restless, a little lonely I think, I can see that much. She needs to be doing something--she's not happy idle."

Logan had actually considered that, over the last six months, watching her, and had to agree with her assessment. The need to move--he'd picked her up doing that. Problem was, he had no idea how to accomplish it--she was way too young for him to bring her along on his little excursions, and besides that, he didn't want her exposed to that sort of thing anyway. Not that her time alone before had been all that great either, but the principle was the same.

And hell, what would he do with her anyway? There were a lot of pleasant possibilities he just wasn't ready to deal with yet, and she sure as hell wouldn't be--or worse, and it was enough to give him a set of shudders, she might consider it payback for his help and God, that was the last thing on his mind. The very last thing he ever wanted her to think.

He didn't want anyone on those terms.

"There's--there's a school--"

"No." Logan straightened against the titles, and there it went again, the little alarms that went off at the very thought of Marie going anywhere or doing anything without his presence. "I've heard of it, too. And no, not a chance in hell."

"Logan--"

"She touches foot in America alone, God knows what will happen to her. She can't pass worth a damn and we both know she'll give it away the second someone touches her by accident. Hell, she still winces from you, and you live with her."

A long silence and Logan wished desperately for a cigar. Picking up his beer, he took a long drink, considering his options, remembering coming across that particular bit of information about a school a few weeks before, knowing that Jamie would find it out as well. Trying to decide whether to go check it out--though since the MRA was still on the table in DC, he'd kept carefully close to the Canadian border on his forays into the United States recently. He'd heard the rumors of anti-mutant uprisings, the mass exodus of mutants and their families into mutant-friendly countries like Britain, Canada, and into South America.

Which more than once had definitely caught his interest--for some reason, and right now he didn't try to define why, Brazil sounded damned good.

The last thing he needed was to be caught up in the anti-mutant hysteria--not when he had to worry about what would happen to Marie if he disappeared. And God, Marie herself--he shook his head, dispelling the nasty image. School, whatever, it was in the same county that wanted to force mutants to register and carry identification cards. And the rumors about the disappearance of children with more powerful abilities had reached him pretty easy. Marie would qualify big time. No question. And Logan, who'd never trusted anything resembling government, had some suspicions on what they'd do with a girl who could kill with a touch--after all, he had a pretty good idea what they did with regenerative mutants. That was his newest nightmare he'd never shared with anyone, imagining all the nasty things that could happen to her if she was taken.

No fucking way.

"I'll talk to Marie about it," he told Jamie finally, knowing how she'd answer.

"Talk about it?" The frustration seemed to reach through the phone at him, as if with voice alone she could shake him into her way of thinking. "You tell Marie that you don't think it's a good idea, she'll nod and agree just dandy. And you know it. Don't pull that shit with me, Logan."

That silenced him briefly. Because, yeah, she was right, and yeah, it was something he counted on.

"Jamie--"

"Never mind." He could feel her resignation. "It's not important. You comin' for her birthday?"

"Yeah." He paused, then relaxed against the tiles--having one of those blinding flashes of inspiration that always left him feeling a little high and grinning, no matter how unmanly it really was to get such a kick out of making Marie smile. "How much cold weather gear do you have?"

And Jamie's answer.

"Huh?"

Ten minutes later, preliminary arrangements complete, he finished his beer and was hanging up the phone when Jessica knocked on the door and Logan levered himself up to open it Brown eyes--pretty eyes, reminded him of Marie, though Marie had never looked like this, never had that edge of cynicism, of someone used to being used.

"Who ya talkin' to?" she asked. Logan took in the long body encased in a t-shirt, the flush of skin across her cheeks. The fact he knew she wasn't wearing underwear, just by smell.

"Little sister," he answered, standing up and scooping her off the floor and sitting her on the sink, bracing a hand on either side of her hips. "Any reason ya askin'?"

A slow smile and one arm went around his back as she braced herself on the cool marble.

"Just bored, all alone in there." She ran a finger down his face and he caught it between his teeth, watching her eyes dilate. Took a step so he was settled between her thighs, hearing the rush of her breath, brown eyes closing slowly.

"I can fix that."

---

Marie shook her head shortly as she picked up the skates, then put them down again.

"Not again. I like my skin all one general color, thank you. I like sitting. I've learned to enjoy it. I am not sleeping on my stomach one more night."

Hearing Jamie's snicker, she shot the shorter woman a glare that she ignored completely. Jamie was perusing their shopping list, and Marie dropped into a chair beside her.

"You want me to go for you?"

Jamie raised a brow and Marie slid a glove off, frowning briefly, placing it on the woman's wrist. A sigh, and Jamie covered the fingers with hers. "It's not that. Honey, you can't drive very well--or do we need to go look at that poor tree out back when I let you try?"

And wasn't that the truth, and Marie knew she couldn't fight that. With a sigh, she removed her head, frowning a little in memory--then snickered herself.

"This summer, I'll sign you up for driving lessons, 'kay?" Jamie frowned down at the list. "I see you got rid of meatloaf again."

"Pizza." A charming smile--they melted Jamie and Marie took her victories where she could get them.

"You're spoiled."

"I cleared snow for three hours with a sore ass. I deserve pizza."

With a resigned laugh, Jamie marked down a few more items and nodded shortly before rising.

"All right--Leo will be here in few minutes for your meditation lessons--he's not staying for dinner tonight. I'll be back by six." Jamie motioned to another piece of paper and Marie groaned. "A few things for you to do before I get back."

Marie had discovered Jamie had a passion for lists and organization. In her room, taped on the door, was the laundry schedule --{for two people?}--the household task schedule, and a rotating weekly schedule of Marie's activities, and Marie had a lot. That Jamie had never had a child was certain--she was taking every maternal instinct she had--and Marie honestly never thought Jamie had that many--on her and life had become a series of skills to master, never-ending rounds of activity that kept Marie busy and it was hard to remember a time she'd been alone in the world.

She honestly wondered exactly how life was without a schedule.

"You be all right?" Jamie asked as she got her purse, and Marie nodded quickly. Jamie always asked, always with the same fresh worry, and every time, Marie nodded easily and Jamie would breathe a sigh of relief before she left.

When the house was quiet, Marie took a seat on the couch and leaned back, closing her eyes briefly.

She'd lied to Logan--not a complete lie, not a true lie, but a lie nonetheless. She said she had a little control.

She had a lot. More than even Jamie suspected, though Jamie did know that every second came with a price--headaches, ultra-sensitive skin, and real physical danger if anyone even brushed her skin. She'd knocked Jamie out when the woman had brushed her hair and the tip of a finger had grazed her throat after one meditation session, when Marie let down those all-important mental shields and she was too tired to dodge out of the way.

Jamie never was afraid though, and that just confused her--even with Jamie's memories in her head.

The last six months had definitely changed her view on the world, that was certain. Jamie had thrown herself into the guardian role with relish, and Marie had woken up the morning after Logan left, feeling depressed, uncertain, staring at her bag in the closet, only to be dragged downstairs, fed a remarkably large breakfast, and have her entire new life mapped out for her. When Logan sent them the papers and IDs that reinvented Rogue into Anna Richards, citizen of Canada born in the province of Alberta--well, that had been interesting.

For some reason, she never considered calling her parents. Even when Jamie, late one evening, had told her that there was a secure line she could use if she ever wanted to. She'd shaken her head slowly, thanking the older woman for the thought, and Jamie had never pressed her to why.

{Though I know you wanted to, Jamie. You wanted to ask why I didn't at least want to tell them that I was okay and they didn't need to worry. Or maybe--maybe you did understand, better than I did--after all, when you left home, you never contacted your parents again either. And for some of the same reasons I have, that you can't go back and build something from nothing. They loved their daughter and their daughter died when Cody went into that coma--it's just now I'm getting the written proof of it. A new name, a new home, and new memories. They don't want the person I've become--and I don't want to go back to being the person I was.}

Jamie, who she owed everything, and somewhere far away, Logan, doing whatever the hell it was he did and she twisted the chain around her neck and smiled to herself when she remembered Jamie's glance that first day, catching sight of the metal hidden beneath her shirt.

{--"Think of him as your father."--}

Jamie was relentlessly sensible. With anyone else, Marie would have thought that Jamie was trying to be discouraging, but she understood the implication well enough, the roundabout way Jamie liked to get a point across. The differentiation of the roles she played in Logan's head, the difficulties in changing one to the other, and the work and careful manipulation it would take so Logan would never notice that Marie had moved from the category of Responsibility to the category of Pursuable.

{--"Even in Mississippi, sugar, I never thought of my father like I think of Logan."--}

Jamie had laughed but Marie had seen the worry--oh, not for her so much as worry in her general direction. Worry that she didn't understand reality well enough to know certain differences, that gratitude would fade and confusion between the two, between gratitude to someone you owe everything, and love, which Jamie explained, was easily confused with everything from lust to hatred to indifference.

{--"Having is different from wanting, which is different from dreaming. You have to make a decision, which way you want to go. Choose only one and do it."--}

{--"I understand. Jamie, I do."--}

She could dream about it and outgrow it eventually, want it with all her heart and fail, or have it, and if Marie knew nothing else, she knew she was determined. No one crossed the United States alone with less than five hundred dollars to their name and a backpack just to get to Alaska without being determined.

This was a have situation, and she suspected Jamie knew that. There was no other reason why Jamie took her to the doctor three months earlier to put her on birth control.

"Rogue?"

Marie grinned as she heard the door quietly close, Leo's careful movement as he removed his coat and boots.

"Here, Leo." And sat up, stretching her back, as the tall man came in. Quickly ducked into the cupboard to get her meditation mat. "I'm ready."

---

So things were a little different than first expected. It wasn't just the disturbingly domestic sitting in a normal living room with other people making conversation either, since he'd gotten used to that in his own way. It was a lot of things, not the least of which was his first sight of Marie in two and a half months, which really wasn't that long at all except it was for some reason, because she had changed.

Logan watched Marie finish her cake, curled on the rug, long hair almost shielding her face from view. Every few seconds, she'd run her bare hand over the gloves, carefully set beside her knee, giving them a long look before picking up her fork again and taking another bite. Then slid the plate away, wiping her fingers carefully, and picking up the black leather.

"These are gorgeous," she said softly, running her fingers over them before carefully sliding one on, tossing him a rapt look before turning her attention back down. They'd fit perfectly, he already knew--in a strange moment of some sort of prescience, he'd snagged a pair from her room the last time he left, and found a very skilled leatherworker in Mexico who made several sets for her out of the best leather Logan had ever seen. "It's so thin. Where'd you get them?" She was wearing short sleeves and he caught himself watching her slide the leather up over her bare arm. The long pair, opera length, her favorite kind. So fine she'd be able to distinguish texture through them, almost the same thickness as latex.

Then Jamie's amused eyes were on him and he looked away, concentrating on his beer as Marie got the next one on, and he refused to look. Refused, damn it, little girls sitting at his feet trying on gloves were not something he was ready to start thinking of in terms of wearing nothing but gloves in a considerably more private situation.

His room, maybe. God, was that tempting.

He shook his head, glancing idly at the stack of plates on the floor--Jamie really knew how to cook, he had to give her that.

"Mexico," he answered, glancing up to see Jamie engaged in flipping through the channels as if her life depended on it. Hiding her twitching lips with one hand, but damn, he could smell her amusement. Then Marie's attention was caught by some show or other and she bounced up onto the couch beside him--shit--and long hair brushed his arm.

Logan took another drink of his beer and decided a cold shower just might not do it tonight.

When he'd arrived, an unusual thing had happened, unusual enough to make him want to sit down and think it over, if he were the type to do something like that. He'd gotten a distinct thrill out of Marie pelting full-speed out of the house--okay, maybe that could be considered natural, he was fond of her. She never walked--at least, he'd never actually seen it happen. She ran, she skidded, she even skipped--and Marie skipping held his complete absorbed attention a lot more than was probably decent--but she never walked.

And leather-covered arms were tossed haphazardly around his neck, a whisper against his jacket of "You're back." And briefly, and he was damned appalled at himself, he rested his chin against her hair, taking in her scent, the smell of her shampoo, the silky strands against his face.

Bad thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts, get them right outta there.

"You gonna show me how to ski tomorrow?" Marie asked as she tucked a pillow against her chest, drawing her knees up against it. He tore his mind strictly out of that surprisingly pleasant memory and grunted.

"Nope." He gave a glance to Jamie, who didn't say anything but she was working hard not to laugh. Marie turned on the couch to give the older woman a curious glance, eyes wide, and he shrugged as he took a drink. Instantly, she plucked the can out of his hand, dangling out of reach.

"What?"

"I thought you might wanna do somethin' different." He reached for the can and Marie pulled it out of range. Instantly, she was suspicious.

"Don't even think 'bout puttin' me on skates again. Me and ice aren't getting along very well--you wouldn't believe the places I still have bruises."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to show him and he bit down hard on his lip as she dangled the beer just out of reach. Oh fuck, this was getting just ridiculous. And Jamie, safely on the other couch, had the bad manners to start snickering at his expression.

"Nope. Maybe a little trip."

His reward for six hours of time and trouble getting this little field trip together was the sudden incandescence that lit up her face, and he caught his breath, unable to think clearly with that smile turned on him. Vaguely, he realized he'd shifted closer and stopped himself.

"Where?" Breathless.

"Anchorage."

She stopped breathing.

"How long?"

"A few weeks, depending on how attached you get to Alaska," he answered easily, snagging his beer back and annoyed that he'd run an interested finger over her knuckles in the process. "If you wanna go--"

"Yes! Really? Yes!" Her hands went down and Logan refused to look where they landed. "This is--I mean--" she stopped, running out of words, then with all that youth and energy that always left him a little dazed, she threw herself forward--instinctively avoiding exposed skin, not that he had much when he was going to see Marie, and knocked him back against the arms of the couch.

Logan called up images of ice-cold water, snowbanks, showers set at glacial temperatures, and how extremely wrong it was to think of eighteen year old kids like this. Especially when they were wearing really thin shirts and were pressed flat against him.

"Thanks." A whisper when she looked down at him and he found himself grinning like the biggest idiot on earth.

Hours later, she was asleep on the couch--she slept like the dead, one minute awake as can be, the next sliding right down until her glossy hair was spread across his thigh, head inches from his leg, and it took a lot of willpower to keep from touching her.

"You keep lookin' at her like that, I might get worried." Jamie said softly and he growled--low, so it wouldn't wake Marie.

"Don't even start."

A raised eyebrow and twitching lips that he quickly looked away from.

"Just pointing out the obvious," she snickered.

"She's a kid."

A significant look down at Marie before looking at him. He looked down too, at the leather-covered hand, fingers barely touching his jeans.

"You just keep telling yourself that, darlin'."

---

Jamie turned when Logan came in the kitchen after carrying Rogue to bed. The girl slept like the dead, completely undisturbed by anything short of a nightmare or an atom bomb going off by her head. Sitting at the small table, she watched him duck in the fridge.

"What are you gonna do about her, Logan? A nice quiet trip to Anchorage, just the two of you?"

He didn't respond, instead coming back up from fishing out the last beer and kicking the door closed with his heel.

"Nothing."

She believed it too, knew he believed it, and mulled over her tea when he sat down. Because he knew the girl very well, and didn't know a damned thing about how women thought.

"Logan--"

"She's eighteen. I'm not gonna--"

"Not you. Her."

His head came up sharply, and she thought, just for a second, that there was something in them close to interest. But it was gone the second she got the view and she was left staring down at hot Earl Grey and trying to think of a way to explain without betrayed what confidences of Rogue's she had been given. There were few--Rogue didn't share very much.

There was silence, as she struggled through the thoughts, finally breathing out sharply.

"You have a lot of power over her, Logan. You know that." A sharp glance, but his gaze was fastened somewhere else, and without lights, she couldn't get a good look at his face. "You could hurt her badly, either way this goes. And I can see on both of you exactly where it's gonna end up--you've never bothered controlling yourself around a woman before now."

"You don't think much of me, Jamie. I'm not--"

"Yeah, you keep saying that." She paused, knowing she had his attention. "I'm not stupid, Logan--you tell her to jump off a cliff, she'd probably do it without even asking why. What you both end up doing--doesn't matter. You have to make sure you do it right, though."

Another flicker, different from the first, and she couldn't interpret that either, though if her life had been on the line, she would have said it was worry. He stood up, abandoning the beer. And she knew she'd pissed him off and didn't care.

"You finished?"

"Depends on if you understand--you've never had a single responsibility in your life before this. You can't fuck her and then move on your merry way. You're stuck with her for awhile." A pause. "It won't ever be casual, with her. You've got to do it all or nothing. If you can't, Logan, make sure, make damn sure, you don't let her think you can."

The only response she got was the sound of his boots, leaving the room.

---

It was almost familiar--Marie woke suddenly in a cold sweat, feeling Logan's hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake, the leather still cool from being hastily pulled on. She struggled with one breath, then another, then felt his hands behind her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting position on the bed, sheet falling around her waist.

"Sorry," she whispered, and a glass of water was thrust under her nose. She took a drink, then a longer one. "Didn't mean t'wake you, sugar."

Routine made up her life--when Logan wasn't here, Jamie was, curling up with her in the bed sometimes and letting her cry herself out, trying to put together the varying images--David's memories, Logan's memories, her memories--and most recently, Jamie's memories, in their own way frightening because they were so much more recent and intense.

"Don't worry 'bout it." She handed him the glass and heard him sit it on the floor. "Is it happening more now?"

"Less," she whispered. "This is the first one in a month. Too much excitement, I guess." A hand stroked her sweaty hair back and she smiled a little, looking up into Logan's face. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, kid. What was it this time?"

Shakily, she shook her head and was given another shake of her shoulders for her trouble.

"The lab." Quiet for a minute, and she gulped back a sob, refusing to drop the little control she had gained. "Just--" She stopped, taking another breath. A bounce of her bed, and Logan shifted closer, pulling her across his lap, and she buried her head against a safely-clothed shoulder, shutting her eyes tight. "I don't wanna remember, Logan."

"Yeah, well, that makes two of us." His hand stroked her bare back slowly, and Marie relaxed against him. "You wanna talk about it?"

It was a moment--she paid for them in nightmares, but it was when she got touched and held and had Logan's undivided attention. And she never believed it wasn't worth it, even with her body still shaking in reaction and her heart pounding against her chest like it was trying to get out and she couldn't draw a clear breath without tears threatening to break all her control to shreds. Leo was many wonderful things, but he hadn't yet been able to instill that calm in her that she so desperately wanted, that cool center that could lock everything out. So she breathed, like she'd been taught, and she slid her arms around Logan's back and clung tight and anchored herself in reality as best she could.

She never wanted to tell Logan that she could feel the slice of razors long after she woke up, that she had stared at her unblemished skin in wonder so many times because there was no criss-cross of scars.

"No." Because he already knew, and it'd only hurt him if she told him about the needles and the helplessness and over it all, that sheer level of pure hate that she felt in every bone in her body, until the hate seemed more real than the room that surrounded her, the body warm against hers. "You know."

"Yeah, I do." A sigh, barely discernable through the layer of flannel, but she felt it against her cheek and held a little tighter. Then--then his hand slid down over her face, gently, softly, slowly over her shoulder, and she took a breath as his fingers moved down her arm. Felt her entire body react at the feel of soft leather over flannel running slowly down her side and stop on her hip.

Knew he felt it too, and she almost breathed out in relief, because now she knew he wanted her too, and everything was suddenly easier. She lifted her head, staring up at him for a moment, seeing the slight dilation of his eyes, the pressure of his gloved hand on her skin--he always remembered to put them on before he came to wake her up.

She felt the moment change, just like she expected, when Logan snapped back into the here-and-now of the room.

"Yeah." Then in a movement so sudden she was a little startled, she was slid onto the floor and he was on his feet. Almost predictable, Logan finding a way out. "Come on."

"What?" A little dazed, she felt him grab her arm and pull her toward the door.

"Something to eat."

"Jamie doesn't approve of food at night." That had been ground into her at home too--amazing how very much Jamie and her mother had in common. Which amused Marie no end during her free hours to think about it.

"Aren't you lucky I do?"

---

The first thing he noticed, sitting in a rental car while Marie chattered away--she didn't annoy him.

So he'd half-expected long-term exposure to her would, especially long-term in relative isolation--hell, he almost hoped for it, but no go. Marie was Marie even now, and being Logan, he only realized about two hours into a conversation with her that he wasn't bored and that shut him up tight.

That and when he glanced at her, the sudden memory of the way she'd felt last night through body-warmed flannel and soft leather, the unmistakable look on her face and the pressure of her bare hands against his back.

"Somethin' wrong?" Her accent was softening--too much listening to Jamie, he assumed.

"No."

She stretched in the seatbelt, playing absently with her gloves. Wiped away something on the window. Shifted to the left a little, making herself comfortable. Then let out an impatient breath and speared him with a glance.

"Tell me where you've been."

"Around."

He felt her gaze and from the corner of his eye, saw her hand on her neck, tracing round throat of her sweater absently. He suddenly wondered if she was wearing the tags.

{Don't. Think. About. That.}

"Be specific. You said Mexico."

Oh yeah. Logan fished out a cigar, groping through his pockets for a lighter.

"Mexico City. Acapulco."

A nod.

"What were you doing?"

Oh shit. {Smuggling, darlin'. Doin' what I do.}

"Just moving around." He'd be damned if he'd tell her stuff like that.

Marie glanced at him for a second, then raised a leather-covered finger to tap lightly on her head.

"Try again." A small smile, and he growled as he hit the turn signal. "I retained more than you're propensity to profanity, sugar." A pause, and he could feel her amusement. "Mexico--smuggling, fighting, or did you get a job on one of those oh-so-illegal ships that are running circles around the coast guard?" The smile grew. "Or didja take up with grand theft auto, sugar? You could have quite a career if you had the patience."

Eyes narrowed, he gave her a glance.

"Forget."

"Not that easy," she shot and looked out the window. Her fingers still twisted around the collar of her throat, a searching motion. "So where are we, anyway?"

"Alberta border." Logan glanced at the signs, half-buried in snow--it was a clear day. "We're not stopping until we get to Anchorage," he commented.

"So what are we exactly planning on doing?"

"Fishing."

He snickered when he saw her expression in the rearview mirror and she turned in the seat, bringing her denim covered leg up to balance herself.

"In ice?" She sounded utterly appalled.

"Yeah." A pause, while she chewed on her lower lip and assimilated the idea. "It's fun. You'll like it. There's nothing like catching your own food."

It took effort not to laugh at the expression on her face.

"We're going to eat it?" Horror and a little fascination, mixed with disbelief, and not for the first time, Logan wondered exactly what it was they taught little Southern girls in Mississippi.

"I'm gonna only ask this once, baby." He hit the turn signal, checking the road automatically. "Where exactly do you think meat comes from anyway?"

She blinked, twice he noticed, and he could almost see the different answers she was trying formulate. Finally, she gave up with a little glare.

"I know where meat comes from," she finally said, but her voice betrayed a certain level of uncertainty. "I'm from Mississippi. I've seen farms."

"Exactly."

He could feel her eyes on him, studying him carefully.

"You ever like--go out there and hunt?" Her gloved hand waved in the general direction of outside. "Like, for animals or whatever?"

"I wouldn't hunt trees--no sport in that."

She growled and he bit back a grin with an effort.

"So you have."

"Yeah."

She chewed on her lip again and absently ran her fingers across her throat again.

"Cooked it?"

There was just enough uncertainty in her voice that he was tempted to tell her no, he just sat down and ate them raw. But he didn't.

"Yeah." A pause, and he saw the relief spread across her face, and couldn't stop himself. "Mostly."

Her head knocked into the window, she spun in her seat so fast, and a black-gloved hand went back up absently to curve around the back of her skull, but the dark eyes were on him, wary. Then a flicker of her mouth.

"That's imagery I needed, sugar." She drew in a breath, tilting her head. "Is it fun--hunting I mean? What do you do? Like, take a gun or--" her eyes went to his hands significantly and Logan actually felt himself begin to blush. Which wasn't something she should ever, ever see. And fuck, it sure as hell wasn't something he should ever, ever do.

"Is this twenty questions?" he asked as they made a turn onto possibly the worst road in the entirety of Alaska, though it'd have some competition with the northern areas. She frowned a little in thought.

"How many questions have I asked?" She drew a lock of her hair around her fingers and it was a close thing, that he didn't stare at her doing it.

"Didn't keep count."

"Then I don't know. Is it fun, just to--" fingers waved again in the general direction of the woods and then fell to her lap in uncertainty. "Go out there like that?"

"Yeah."

"You ever try answering a question with more than one word?"

"You ever shut up?"

She laughed then, and one hand went down to the lever on her seat, sending it backward and she reached for her coat, pulling it over her like a blanket.

"You're about to see me do just that, sugar. Wake me up when we stop to eat--I'm assuming I won't be catching my own dinner, right?" She snickered before she closed her eyes and he tossed her hat from the space between them over her grinning face.

---

It was gorgeous. That was the first thing she noticed. Utterly perfect, miles of isolation and unsullied snow, stretching forever into the skyline, and she had the door open before Logan even stopped, booted feet hitting the dry, soft powder as she took off from the road and crossed in front of the car and stumbled into the almost knee-deep drifts.

"My God," she whispered, utterly entranced.

Dreams come true all the time if you just try hard enough. If there was anything Jamie had taught her that she believed with all her heart, it was that. You just had to make sure you were willing to pay what it cost to get that dream. Standing in snow that covered her calves, she grinned up at the sky for a second. Then kicked lightly, watching the snow fluff up around her in a tight dry cloud of white. A perfect dark blue circle lay only a few hundred feet away--the bluest water she'd ever seen. And she wouldn't get even close to halfway there before Logan caught up--she'd seen him track and if there was one thing he was built for, it was navigating difficult terrain at high speed.

Though damn, it'd be fun to try.

"Fuck it--Marie--" she could hear him behind her, throwing the car in park and doubtless regretting saying that they could look around a little before going into the city. "Will you slow down? Could we at least find somewhere to stay first, before you--shit. Get the hell back here, you're gonna hurt yourself or somethin'."

She turned, laughing at his expression, kicking up a spray of clean white that hit her in the face and she wiped it away with another giggle.

"It's just snow. How can I get hurt in snow?"

"You said you were hungry." He was leaning against the back door, watching her as she looked around at the view. "Yes, nice, snow, lots of it. Great. Get your ass back in the car, baby. Now."

"Make me."

He folded his arms across his chest and gave her a long look.

"Old men can't keep up with kids, sugar? Move your ass if you wanna catch me." She danced back three more steps, saw the dark eyes narrow and focus on her. One gloved hand went out and slammed the driver's side door shut.

"I'm not that old, little girl."

"I'd say at least a hundred or so." Seeing his expression, she skipped back a few more steps. "Prove me wrong."

"You wanna take a nice bath in that pretty lake you're admiring?"

Marie laughed, turning on her heel to stare around her again, hearing his grudging trudge across the space that separated them.

"This is gorgeous, you know." She flickered a hand around, taking in the skyline painted gold and orange and pink, the lake, the landscape around them. He looked less than impressed.

"It's snow. Marie, you live in fucking Canada. This isn't something new."

He was only a few feet away now. Marie shook her head impatiently.

"Logan, look around. It's--"

"Snow."

She picked up a wad of the aforesaid snow and threw it at him, admiring his reflexes when he got out of the way (though sprinkled liberally with white fluff) and took two steps toward her before picking her up and swinging her over his shoulder.

"Fuck, Logan!" Her head hit against his back and she let out a startled breath, her hair blocking her vision as she tried to lift her head. Both hands grasped at soft leather of his jacket, and she took a handful to brace herself. "What the hell are you doin'?"

A rumbling laugh that she could feel through her body.

"First, darlin', you don't throw snow at men who take you nice places for your birthday."

"Lemme down!" She pounded a leather-coated fist into his back, but Logan didn't seem to feel it at all. Damn superhealers.

It would have helped, she supposed, if she could stop laughing.

"Second, it's 'bout two hours until dark, and ya know, I'd like to have somewhere decent to sleep." A significant pause. "Not the car."

"You've slept outside before."

"Not when I didn't have to and trust me, the have-tos have become nevers by now. I have a healing factor--you don't."

"You'd keep me warm, wouldn't ya, sugar?" she purred, trying to get enough leverage to pull herself up, but the jerks of his body didn't give her enough stability and she tried to brace her legs against his chest. A slap on her ass and she jerked in surprise. "Logan! What the hell was that for?"

"Just for the hell of it. Stop trying to kick me."

"I want down!"

"When you're in the car. Be quiet, kid. Enjoy the view."

The view consisted of Logan and snow. Not exactly a bad view all things considered and she was tempted to tell him that, but she could already guess he wouldn't take that well--she'd had two days to evaluate him and had decided that she'd have to go about this a little more subtlety than originally intended or it wouldn't work at all.

He opened the driver's side door, sliding her in without much effort, and she scooted to the far seat while he got in and turned on the ignition. A glance at her that maybe was supposed to be threatening, but snow fell out of his hair between them and Marie grinned as she raked her fingers through it.

"Really manly, Logan. We goin' back to the cave now and kill a bear or two?"

"You're growing into a real bitch." He turned his head away but she saw the smile and marked another encouraging point in her mental scorecard.

"Remind me to thank Jamie, sugar."

---

Logan dropped Marie in her room under orders be ready in ten minutes--she took those with a wicked grin, going into the bathroom with her shower kit and giving it a quick once-over--definitely a nice motel, she had to give him that. Stripping off her clothes, she turned around, measuring the space between the front door that opened on the parking lot outside, and adjusted the bathroom door open accordingly.

Jamie had given her a few things that the woman never quite guessed at--and it wasn't a lie when she told Jamie that she hadn't gotten much from their brief touch--because she hadn't. She'd gotten enough though, the one thing she really needed, a woman's point of view on sex--and being Logan's former lover hadn't hurt that at all. Grinning, she flipped the shower on and pulled the curtain closed, finding her shampoo and going to enthusiastic work.

The door opened exactly ten minutes later while she braced a foot on the sink and began to put on her lotion. Her skin didn't like winter weather--a hot Mississippi childhood didn't adapt your skin to long periods of cold. Keeping her gaze steadily down, she slid a hand over her calf, working it in carefully, the soft scent of apricot washing over her and filling the room--over her knee, both hands sliding up her thigh to her hip, taking her time. A chilled draft brushed her leg and she smiled to herself, knowing he'd forgotten to close the door.

Casually, she brushed her hair back over her shoulder and switched legs, barely hearing the indrawn breath outside the room--if she'd been a normal human who'd never absorbed the abilities of a certain mutant, she'd never have heard it at all. Casually, she ran her slick hands over her ankle, performing the same slow ritual on her other leg before standing again on her own two feet and squeezing a little more lotion on her hand. Taking a breath, she ran her fingers over both arms, across her shoulders, and worked a slow pattern down her chest. Lifting the metal dog tag out of her way to do it.

"Sir?" A voice from outside--damn, he should have closed the door. Whoever the hell had distracted him was gonna die slow. She finished rubbing the excess into the flesh of her stomach and grabbed a towel, hearing Logan turn and leave, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to shake the room. By the time she walked out, she was alone in the room and knew for a fact that Logan would not be coming within ten feet of her until he could be sure she was dressed--damn. Sighing, she unpacked the suitcase and found her clothes--jeans, her turtleneck, her favorite sweater--then considered her underwear briefly before smiling to herself and dropping them back in without comment.

This would be an interesting hunt. To say the least.

Quickly, before she forgot, she went to the phone, pulling out the phone card Jamie had given her before they left and dialing the number. It picked up on the first ring.

"Jamie?"

A moment of silence, then her voice, sounding a little thick, and Marie regretted waking her up.

"Sorry to wake you. I just wanted to call and say we got here okay."

"That's okay, sweetie. Just drifted off" A pause, and she heard her groping for the pen in the drawer beside the phone. "Go ahead and tell me where you're staying, okay? I don't want to worry about you."

Marie paused, then shook her head. Quickly, she gave her the name and settled down to tell her about the ride. Jamie laughed when she told her about the snow and described the view.

"I wish you were here."

"I doubt that, sweetie. You relax and have fun. Be a good girl."

Marie grinned and slipped her feet into her boots.

"Okay, we're about to go out to dinner. I'll call tomorrow, 'kay?"

"You do that. Bye, Rogue."

"Bye."