i search your profile for a translation
i study the conversation like a map
'cause i know there is strength
in the differences between us
and i know there is comfort
where we overlap

---

A year and a half passed in a pointless blur.

He slept. He ate. He fought. He fucked.

It was the life he'd had before he met Rogue, before he became entangled in the crazy world of the X-Men, but this time instead of being fueled by a burning desire to uncover what had happened to him, he was trying to outrun something.

Logan was trying to outrun *her*. He was trying to outrun the smile on her face when she'd told him she was getting married. He was trying to outstrip the instinctive nod she'd given when he'd asked if she was happy. He was trying to outrun his own stupidity for letting her walk away from him all those years ago in Iowa.

It was pointless, but he ran anyway, because he was really good at it by now.

He was driving in his truck somewhere in Arizona, CCR blaring on the radio, when the professor's voice sounded in his head.

*Logan.*

"Fuck!" He nearly drove off the road, then overcorrected, straddling the solid yellow line for a few moments before he dragged his truck back into the right lane. "Don't *do* that!"

*My apologies. Logan, you're needed.*

Panic hit, hot and heavy. They wouldn't contact him unless-- "What's wrong?" he demanded, his fingers stiff on the steering wheel.

*Bobby,* the professor's voice was tinged with sorrow, *was killed.*

"Oh, God," Logan murmured, caught between shock and panic. "Is she okay?"

The hesitation before Xavier answered was enough, and Logan flipped a U-turn and slammed on the gas. North. He needed to go north. And east. Immediately.

*Rogue needs you.*

"I don't know what that means," he answered desperately.

*She killed the woman who killed her husband,* the professor explained, and no matter how calm he tried to sound, Logan could feel the undercurrent of anxiety.

Suspicion unfurled in his gut. "Killed how?" he demanded gruffly, searching for a highway sign. Where the fuck was I-10?

*With her mutation.*

"Fuck!"

*Quite.* A pause. Then. *It appears that Rogue has... absorbed this mutant's personality along with her gifts. She's having trouble assimilating.*

"Assimilating?" Logan sputtered, kicking the truck up another ten miles per hour. The steering wheel vibrated under his fingers, protesting the speed. "You mean some murderous bitch has taken up residence in Rogue's head?"

*I wouldn't have phrased it quite that way,* the professor answered.

"But I'm right," Logan concluded. "Motherfucker. I'll be there as soon as I can."

*Scott's on his way,* the professor answered.

Logan brought the truck to a shuddering halt on the side of the road. Jesus Christ. It must be -- if they were sending Scott immediately, she must--

"Tell me she's going to be okay," Logan muttered. She had to be okay. There was no other option. She just *had* to be okay.

Again, Xavier hesitated before replying. *This is new territory for all of us, Logan. I am hopeful--*

"Fuck!" He stared at the pavement in front of him, wondering vaguely why everything seemed blurry. Rogue was in trouble. Serious, serious trouble. On top of which, she'd just lost her husband.

He wasn't entirely sure why Xavier thought sending for him was a good idea just now, but he'd push that aside. Because he really, really needed to see her. He needed to make sure she was okay.

*Scott will be there as soon as possible, Logan.*

Logan turned the truck off the road, aiming out into the low desert, driving right over scrubby bushes, taking out an old fence that was in his way. He was pretty sure the suspension on the truck was close to ruined by the time he shimmied to a stop and jerked the keys from the ignition. Methodically, Logan stripped the truck clean of anything that could link it to him.

An hour and a half later, Scott put the Blackbird down twenty yards away. Logan had all of his worldly possessions in a duffel bag. He ran up the gangplank and tossed the truck's plates onto the floor beside his bag. Whoever's land he'd trespassed onto was more than welcome to take the truck and sell it for their trouble. Logan didn't really give a shit, so long as it wasn't traced back to him.

Scott nodded hello, but his mouth was set in a grim line. For the first time, Logan wondered how hard this was on Scott, who'd lost his wife to the good fight.

"How is she?" Logan asked.

Scott glanced over at him. "I honestly don't know."

It wasn't the answer Logan wanted, but it was all he had for two agonizing hours as Scott pushed the jet supersonic to get them back to New York.

He was out of the hangar and running for the medlab before Scott even turned off the jet's engines. The professor was waiting for him just outside the door. "She's in here," he said, not bothering with pleasantries.

Logan barely saw him. He thought maybe he nodded his thanks, but wouldn't swear to it.

"Logan," Xavier called.

He jerked to a halt, panicked. Please, God, don't let her be-- "What?" he demanded.

"Don't be alarmed if--" He stopped, whirred closer in his wheelchair, lowered his voice. "She may not recognize you."

Logan's eyes drifted shut and his head lowered. Hands fisted at his sides, he fought to bring his staggering anger under control. After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

When he slipped into the room, Rogue was crouched in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. At the sound of the door, she jerked her head up, peering at him through a curtain of hair. She didn't speak.

Unsure exactly what he was supposed to do to help, Logan hunkered down just inside the door, resting his elbows on his knees so he was at her eye level. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her; she was traumatized enough. "Hey, Rogue."

"That bitch," she said, tossing her hair back to reveal a vicious expression on Rogue's familiar face, "*killed* me."

Logan blinked. "And you are?" What the fuck was going on?

Rogue tilted her head to one side, regarding him curiously. "Oh," she said after a moment. "You're in here too. You and Magneto."

"Leave her alone," Logan ordered gruffly. God, this was torture -- seeing a stranger in Rogue's body. "Rogue?"

With a seductive smile, Rogue slid upright, leaning languorously against the wall as she stared at him. She wore a fitted cotton top and loose blue pajama bottoms, the clothes incongruous with the sensual way she was holding her body. "You're Logan." She reached up and caught a strand of white hair, winding it around one finger. "You gave her these."

Flinching, Logan stood to face her. "Magneto gave her those."

An amused expression flitted across Rogue's face. Then her eyes widened, pooling with tears, and her lower lip trembled as she said, "You didn't save me, Logan. Why didn't you save me?"

God. Logan knew it was that bitch and not Rogue, but it was true and it hurt like hell to hear in *Rogue's* voice. "I did my best and Rogue knows it. Leave her alone."

The playacting ceased and Rogue sauntered toward him. "Oh, I don't think I will. That bitch killed me, but she's gonna make it up to me." Rogue reached up, twined a bare arm around his neck, sliding quickly across his skin before dropping down to his shoulders. Her voice lowered, grew husky. "She's gonna give me her body," Rogue said, pressing that curvy body up against him. "You want to take a spin?"

Logan stiffened, clamping one gloved hand around her upper arm to push it away from him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, come on," Rogue scoffed, her fingers twisting in his shirt, rubbing suggestively against his chest. "She's wanted you for a long time and you want her, too. You're not hard on the eyes, so..." Rogue glanced meaningfully at the steel exam table.

"Get. Off. Me," Logan bit out through clenched teeth. "Rogue," he implored, ignoring her annoyed look. "Rogue, come on, I know you can hear me. Kick her out of the way and talk to me, *Marie.*"

Rogue shoved him away with surprising strength, stumbling a little as her hip crashed into the exam table. Her hands went to her head and her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Marie," Logan repeated, unsure whether to be demanding or understanding. What the fuck would reach the grieving woman trapped inside her own head? "I know you can do this. Come back to us, darlin'. C'mon."

She shook her head vehemently, pounded a fist into the wall, and Logan stared, dumbfounded, at the gaping hole in the plaster. "What the--?"

"Logan?" she asked, her voice quiet and trembling. She stood, shaking in front of the hole she'd made in the wall. "Did I do that?"

"Marie?" he repeated, drawing closer to her. Moving slowly.

She turned her head to meet his gaze, her expression dazed. "Logan? What are you doing here?" Wide, bewildered brown eyes stared up at him. "What happened?"

Oh, God. She didn't remember. How the hell was he supposed to tell her what happened? He barely knew himself, to be honest, and he sure as hell didn't want to be the one to tell her she was a widow. "Come here," he said softly, offering her his gloved hand.

She took it, a troubled look in her eyes. "There's something..." She shook her head, starting to look scared. "Why are you here?"

Logan pulled her closer, easing her toward the table for support. "The professor contacted me. He thought maybe I could help you."

"Help me with what?" she demanded, her tone edging toward panic. "Something happened." She shook her head slightly, eyes narrowed as she searched her memory. "There was--" She stopped short, her mouth open in soundless horror. Tears pooled in her eyes as she remembered.

And then she crumpled, collapsing into Logan's arms. "I'm sorry, Marie," he murmured, holding her as tightly as he dared. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, God," she cried. "Bobby. He's... Oh, God."

Logan picked her up, cradling her against his chest so he could rock her as she sobbed. "I'm sorry," he said again, knowing she couldn't hear him, not really. He slid down the wall, coming to rest on the floor, legs stretched out before him, Rogue curled sideways across his lap.

It was awful to see her like this, in so much pain, but she'd made it back. She'd taken control of her body. She was stronger than that bitch in her head. Logan let himself relax, just a little, because if she could get through that internal battle, she could survive losing her husband. She *would* survive, because Logan would see to it that she did.

After a long while, Rogue began to quiet, sniffling and swiping tears from her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she muttered, her fingers tracing the damp, tear-stained spot on his jeans.

"Don't," Logan ordered, rubbing her back slowly.

"I shouldn't have--"

"Don't," he said again, his voice suspiciously thick. "Whatever you need, Marie." He wondered if she understood the promise he was making, years too late and in the wrong context. But he knew, finally, what she'd meant when she said you had to make the promise because you *wanted* to keep it. He'd let her down before, in too many ways, and this was a promise he wanted to keep, a promise he *needed* to keep.

Rogue shivered a little, and her hands clutched at his shirt. "I'm so tired, Logan. I'm just so tired."

He nodded. "Go to sleep, darlin'. I'll be right here when you wake up." He felt her body relax, soften in his arms, her hands uncurling against his chest. He continued stroking her back in soft, soothing motions.

When he glanced over at the window, he saw the professor and Scott outside, watching with worried expressions. Logan nodded once, and Scott turned away, his mouth tightening. The professor spoke softly inside Logan's head, *Be careful, Logan. Her mind is a maelstrom.*

And then Rogue was moving, sliding up his body, shifting until she straddled him.

Startled, Logan's hands landed on her hips and he asked, "Rogue?"

She leaned in, a sly smile on her face, and he knew even before she said, "Rogue's asleep, babe. Let's play."

Roughly, Logan pushed her off of his lap, but she climbed right back on, pinning his wrists against the wall beside his head. "What the--?"

"You," Rogue said with a sinister smile, "don't know what you're dealing with, pet."

Logan struggled, but her hands were like vises holding him mercilessly in place. What the hell kind of mutation did this bitch have, anyway? With an angry growl, Logan popped his claws. It was pure intimidation, 'cause there was no way in hell he'd be able to hurt Rogue.

She called his bluff, laughing with true delight at the sight of his claws. "Kitten's got claws," she crooned.

Logan growled, furious, and struggled to break free.

Then she sat back, releasing one wrist and pulling his other hand forward too quickly for him to react. She aimed his extended claws right for her stomach and arched her back as they made contact.

Logan could feel the impact jarring all the way up his arm. "Jesus!" he yelled. "No!"

The claws slid back into his arm even as he was scrabbling to see if she'd been hurt, if he'd hurt her. Fuck, fuck, fuck, let her be okay. Please, God, let her be okay enough for him to heal her if he'd hurt her.

Rogue slid out of his desperate grasp and stood, peeling her shirt up to expose an unharmed expanse of pale, pale skin. Logan stared, uncomprehending, until Rogue dropped the shirt back into place and gave him an exaggerated look of regret. "Did I forget to mention my new invulnerability?" she said innocently.

Logan let out an unsteady breath and slumped back against the wall. Invulnerability and incredible strength. Jesus Christ. Xavier could've warned him.

*I didn't know,* the professor told him.

Logan jerked his head around to see Xavier's distraught expression as he watched from outside.

And then Rogue was moving again, and Logan put his audience out of his mind and climbed to his feet. "Marie," he said. "I know you're tired, I know you're hurting, but I need you to fight her."

Snarling, Rogue paced the small room, peeling off her gloves one at a time. When she noticed the sparkling wedding band and engagement ring on her left hand, she stopped short with an amused look. "Young love," she murmured as she tugged the metal bands off. "So sweet." Rogue held the bands aloft and gave Logan a challenging look. "Now will you fuck me? I took his ring off of her finger for you."

"Bitch," Logan bit out, trying to repress his fury. "You fucking bitch. Leave her *alone.*"

Rogue carelessly tossed the rings at Logan, who caught them and slipped them into his pocket for Marie. Still moving restlessly around the room, Rogue gave Logan a pout. "You should be nicer to me. I can make her remember killing her husband."

Logan froze, unable to comprehend what she meant.

"That's right." Rogue smiled, but it was a threat. "I snapped his neck like a matchstick," she told him, satisfaction dripping from her words, "and I can make her remember it like *she* did it. Like *her* hand cracked his spine."

Panicked, Logan glanced at Xavier and hoped he was listening. *Can she do that?* he projected.

It took Xavier a moment to answer. *I really don't know, Logan. Rogue's mutation is unique. Did she ever tell you whether she could recall your memories?*

Logan slumped, just a little. *No, but she had my nightmares,* he answered, already understanding the implications.

The professor didn't bother to answer, but Logan felt a wave of resigned sorrow.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That bitch was threatening Rogue's body and her mind and her heart, and she was doing it from the *one* place Logan couldn't fucking reach. He'd kill anyone for Rogue, but he couldn't kill this bitch. And his inability to protect Rogue -- again -- was eating away at him.

"If you're nice to me," Rogue said in a little girl's voice, "I'll make sure she doesn't remember."

"Bullshit," Logan answered, instinctively moving towards her, crowding her. "You already admitted you want her body, and you didn't mean a time-share arrangement," he growled. "But that woman is ten times stronger than you, and she'll put you in your fucking place, you understand me?"

Rogue glared up at him, hatred blazing in her eyes. "No, she won't, because--" She broke off, shaking her head, looking a little confused. She flung her hands up, cradling her head. "No!"

"C'mon, Marie," Logan urged, moving forward, reaching for her. "Fight her, Marie. You can do this." His hands slid down the crown of her head, down the silky strands of hair, over her shoulders. "Marie."

Then she looked up, tears streaking down her face. "Logan," she said. "I don't know if I can do this. She's so strong."

"You can do this," Logan told her fiercely. "I know you can." His hands tightened on her shoulders, trying to anchor her to reality, to her body.

"No," she said, her tone regretful. "I don't think I can. She's so angry and she wants it so, so badly. And I'm trying to be strong, but Bobby--" Her voice broke on her husband's name, and Logan pulled her into a fierce hug.

"How can I help you, Marie? Let me help you," he begged, pressing his face into her hair.

Rogue's arms tightened around him, her bare fingers grabbing fistfuls of his flannel shirt. "I don't know," she answered, her tone anguished. "It's so hard. It takes so much effort to stay here."

He glanced out at the professor, who looked slightly disapproving. But, Logan thought darkly, it's not like Xavier was popping into his head with any better suggestions. "Can you still feel me?" Logan asked quietly. "Inside your head?"

She stiffened in his arms and pulled back. "No, Logan. I can't let you do that." Her eyes were wide and scared, her hands trembling against his chest.

"Can you feel me in there?" he demanded, one hand sliding gently through her hair.

Rogue watched him closely. "Yes," she admitted. "Faintly. And Erik, just a little bit."

Logan swallowed his bitterness. Fucking Magneto. But this wasn't the time to worry about his past mistakes, so Logan pushed his anger away and asked, "And am I -- are *we* helping you or making it harder?"

Her eyes drifted closed, her brow furrowing as she considered the question. She'd never been able to explain to him what it was like to have other personalities enmeshed with your own. He supposed that made sense -- he'd never been able to explain what it was like to have a metal skeleton to someone without one.

"Helping," she answered finally. "You and -- and Erik, you both... You're trying to help me keep *her* somewhere safe." She gave a shuddering sigh and opened her eyes.

Logan reached for her bare hand and pulled it up, toward his face. "Will it help?" he asked. Because he'd do anything. She could drain him dry if that's what it took for her to stay sane and healthy.

*Logan,* Xavier protested.

Logan ignored him, his gaze fixed on Marie.

She resisted, trying to pull away from his grip. "Logan, I don't know if it will help."

Before he could answer, she stumbled a bit, her gaze unfocused. His gloved hands on her arms kept her upright. "Marie?" he said. "Marie, c'mon, baby, fight her."

She turned away from him, and he let her go, watching worriedly as she pressed her palms against her head. Moaning a little, she struggled against the foreign influences in her mind.

"Marie," he said, over and over, willing her to stay with him. "You can do this."

Finally, she sagged against the wall, one arm flung out to help her stay upright. Her entire body was trembling with fatigue.

"Marie?" God, was that really his voice? He was terrified that she'd lose herself.

At length, Rogue lifted her head and looked at him, and the relief nearly knocked him off his feet. She'd done it. She'd stayed in control.

"Marie, please, let me help."

Slowly, she shook her head, her brown eyes immeasurably sad. "I don't know if it will help," she said. "Carol, she's--" Rogue swallowed hard, frowned a little. "She'll do something bad if I let you touch me."

Logan whirled and slammed his fist into the wall with an enraged shout. That fucking bitch.

"Logan!" Rogue yelped, at his side instantly. "Are you okay?" Her shaking fingers reached for him, cradling his gloved fist in her palm.

He'd busted two of his knuckles and they hurt like a motherfucker, but they were already on the mend. He gritted his teeth and said, "I'm fine."

"Logan?" She waited until he met her gaze to continue. "Thank you for -- for offering," she said, one bare hand on his flannel-covered forearm. "But I think this is something I need to do myself."

Nodding, Logan groped for something to say and came up empty.

Rogue looked down, then focused on his chin. "Could I --" She stopped, a rueful expression on her face. Then she took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and asked, "Will you stay?"

Logan's hand landed atop hers. "Of course," he promised. "Anything you need, Marie, I'm here."

The expression on her face was wary, but she looked like she wanted to believe him, and maybe that was enough for now.

Rogue's smile wobbled a little. "Okay," she said. "Good."

THE END