If she'd never asked, it would've been easy.

People may think I took the high road from the beginning; that I've got too much honor or conscience to take that path. Truth is, I was so far gone when she came across me, that path looked like an open invitation. I was the furthest thing from honorable and even though I never would've predicted, she was just what I needed.

I noticed her immediately. Completely out of place. An angel fallen - or more like a nightingale knocked down to earth. Trying to hide her delicate song in worn out wool, but doing a piss poor job of hiding at all. Too young to be there, but old enough to consider. And she kept looking at me.

Staring.

She wasn't a blasting bombshell. She was a dark secret ready to bloom.

She'd seen me fight; I could tell. It was in the way she stared, wonderment but timid. The rest was a pleasant surprise. Heat. Curious desire, real and potent.

Little nightingale really did have a dark secret.

I would've kept her secret too. I'd let her whisper it to me in hidden places and make sure she enjoyed every moment of her confession. Maybe I would've told her a secret too, something she would never forget. We could've held on to it while it lasted; until the road called us apart. We could've parted, but never had regret.

Because she wasn't just a girl with a crush. Infatuation; I'd gotten that before.

This was something more, something - richer. She had an instinct, about what I was and what she wanted. This wasn't just a girl with some good looking fighter. She was a fallen songbird craving the animal within. I don't think she even knew it, but I did. I would've shown her too.

I didn't need her warning when the sore loser attacked, but I still took notice of the effort.

I left hoping she would follow; meet me by my truck and put an end to all the staring. Let me share in her dark secret, sing her night song for me. I would've been as gentle as she wanted, but still as primal as she needed.

She never showed ...

I wouldn't call it disappointment, maybe just surprise. Even more so when I found her hiding. She wanted a ride?

No. I was no one's savior. I am not the damsel's hero.

A girl asking for help was not the same as sharing secrets. I'd leave her there; let her find her own way. Life is tough; better learn that now rather than later.

But it was there. Right there. That faint itch I hadn't felt in years, scratching at the back of my brain. Anything could happen to her out here. Anyone could find her. Someone a lot worse than me.

I didn't want her there, but there she was. Cold and looking for something, someone. I tried, but what do I know about helping? I try to warm her and even that isn't right. That's when I know for certain, when she tells me without hesitation. I was right; she's one of them too - like me. No, not like me. No one is like me. It still doesn't matter though. She doesn't matter. She can't. No one can understand it. How could she? She's only a girl. A girl I would take if she'd let me and I would swear it wouldn't matter.

And then she says it. She has to know.

If she hadn't asked me she would still be Rogue. If she hadn't asked me, I could stay Wolverine. Maybe we would've had dark secrets, but we wouldn't have the promise. There would be no Logan, no man that kept his word. There would be no Marie, a girl with the power of salvation. Because she wants to know, she can't sing to me at night. There would be no fleeting joining and no conscienceless parting in the end. Instead she makes it matter and we are bound without ever feeling it happen.

"Does it hurt?"

That's what she wanted to know.

Does it hurt? Hurt?

They aren't supposed to be there, I don't even know what they are or what it makes me.
I am beaten every night, have to use them when I go mad. No one asks. No one cares. She wants to know. Does it hurt?

Yeah. It hurts. All of it hurts.

Everything. Every damn day. I keep moving but it still hurts. New town, keep running, no past and it hurts. I am broken with no scars to show. It still hurts, but it goes deeper. Elsewhere. Everywhere. She makes me realize that it does, that it shows ... and that she cares.

"Does it hurt?"

"Every time."