Silent tears streaked the stains of blood on her porcelain face. Her dark eyes stared off, her head dancing with mocking memories of the long night before.

The final battle... mutants and humans... peace...

But the peace wasn't without casualities. She shuddered, rubbing her sweaty palms against her torn leather pants. Her heart broke again at the sounds from within the medlab, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat with a rock-hard cry.

He's gonna die... You know that, Marie...

She bit down on her bottom lip, so hard that in no time she tasted the metallic wound on her tongue. This couldn't be happening. How? They'd all lost too many already, so why -

She shook her head. There was no point in questioning. No point in trying to give her life rationale and sense. All that mattered was the grief that engulfed them all, and the impending death of the man she'd loved for five years.

A faint smile crossed her features, a smile that didn't go unnoticed by the few X-Men left in the room. His face tore at her mind, the image of the night she met him lingering in a chill. She felt seventeen again, all cloaked and scared of who and what she was.

And with that sweet memory she felt like she belonged.

"What kind of a name is Rogue?"

"I dunno. What kind of a name is Wolverine?"

She laughed to herself, wiping at her face furiously. What little blood that hadn't dried came off, the rest smearing slightly from the wetness of her face. She stood and began pacing in the coldness of the room. Almost absent-mindedly, she tugged on the cover around her a little tighter.

She just wanted to feel him. To hold him, to heal him with her tears and tell him she was so sorry though there was nothing to be sorry for because if anything, maybe she could be the one to make him fine again.

"Come on, I'll take care of you."

"You promise?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I promise."

"Logan..." she whispered, and the tears finally came again. Her knees wobbled, her head hung low as she fought to hide the sight of her face distorted by her cries. Warm arms engulfed her black-leather clad body, warm arms that for so long had loved her more than any other.

"It's okay," Bobby said, bringing her back to her seat between he and Professor Xavier. "I've got you."

"You won't hurt me..."

But she had. She had hurt him. All those years ago, when he'd walked in on she and Logan's first kiss, when he'd barrelled in the kitchen, angry ice surrounding him as he and Wolverine tussled out their jealousy - she had hurt him. More than she'd ever hurt another person.

But he forgave her. He always did. What she had with Logan was different. Special. True. Logan was the only one who could touch her, the only person her deadly skin let through. In exchange, she got his heart, a heart once thought to belong to Dr. Grey.

Never. Never Jean or anyone else. Just her. Just Marie.

"I'm sorry," Rogue suddenly said, allowing her former lover - her friend - to hold her in his arms as her cries subsided.

He stroked her hair lovingly. "It's okay," he said.

She looked up. "No," she said, shaking her head. Her eyes stared into his, her heart aching for him to see how truly sorry she was for breaking his own.

Bobby smiled gently. He understood.

"I'm sorry," she repeated again, her voice stronger, more convicted.

He reached out with a gloved hand and caressed the side of her face. "It's okay, Rogue."

Maybe it was. She breathed him in, allowing him to pull her back into the warmth of his chest. Lazily, her eyes fell. She just wanted to sleep, to dream this nightmare away...

"Rogue?"

The voice brought her back, that cracked, broken voice that was standing in the doorway of the medlab. Rogue stiffened, but only for a moment.

"He wants to see you now."

She shut her eyes again. The tears were starting to sting now, viscious in their underlying strength. Deadly tears for the girl with deadly skin.

Storm moved closer, kneeling down in front of the young woman. Their eyes met, a world of understanding passing between them. 'It's over,' Storm's eyes seemed to say.

But not until he sees me. He's holding on for me.

"Come on, sweetie," the mutant said, her voice smooth and calming in its tender touch.

It was a long second before Rogue's legs found way to her mind's commands. She stood with her friend, holding onto the woman's shoulders for support.

"Thank you," Rogue said, and what for she didn't know. For trying to work on Logan as best she could, for holding his hand in the medlab when Rogue herself couldn't. For being a supportive friend when others scorned at their love. Whatever she could thank her for, now seemed the time to do it.

Storm smiled. "You're welcome."

And then Rogue's eyes drifted to the open doors before her. She swallowed hard, whimpering ever slightly before holding her head high and making her way towards where he lay.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. She couldn't hear him, couldn't smell his rich cigars or taste the remnants of Canadian beer on his lips. All she felt was the cold, the undeniable cold of a body losing its battle.

"Ya there, kid?"

The voice was strained, as if fighting pain with too much strength to speak at full volume. The lump in her throat returned, and she crossed the distance between herself and table he laid on.

The wounds were worse than they looked. A long gash here, a bullet hole there. His mutation had gone into overload during the final battle.

But too much blood had been lost before all the wounds could be healed. He was dying. Probably something internal, and his mutation was too busy fending off his other wounds to take notice.

"Hey, sugah," she said, choking on her words and forcing a smile. She moved into the chair beside his bed, instinctively taking his hand into her own.

Logan... her Logan, the Wolverine. Even with the many tubes and needles sticking out of his torn and bloody form, he was still her Logan. Never before this moment had she felt so much love for one person. She felt as if it were swallowing her.

"Miss me, kid?" he quipped.

"Miss me, kid?"

"Not really."

She smiled sad, but genuinely. The joke wasn't lost on her.

"Not really," she said.

"I see," he said, giving her hand a hard squeeze. He grimaced, though he managed to give her a smile all the same. Rogue trembled, holding his hand tighter, trying so desperately to pull him back from the brink he was falling from.

"Marie -

"Shh..." she whispered, stroking his face with her other hand lovingly. "Don't talk so much. You gotta save your strength and get better."

"There's no gettin' better for me, darlin'," he said matter-of-factly. "You know that."

"Don't talk like that." She bit at her lip again, running her gloved finger over his cheek. "Logan, please-

"You remember when I promised to take care of you?"

The question startled her. Her mind drifted back to that day on the train, to the feel of being pulled into his arms and knowing that no matter what he'd always be there. As long as he was with her, everything would be alright.

She sniffled. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember that."

His hazel eyes were full in their resolve. "I'm not breaking that promise."

She nodded her head, her heart swelling. "I know that. See, you're gonna get better -

He strained slightly and shook his head. "No, that's... that's not what I'm sayin'."

A cry escaped her lips, though she fought hard to hold its followers back. She gasped when he reached out and pressed his fingers to her lips.

"I'm gonna take care of you... even when I'm gone."

Rogue reached up, cupping her hand over his as he wiped at her tears. Her mouth found the callused flesh, her soul wishing against harm that she could make him heal.

"I love you so much." The words escaped her before she could stop them. They seemed so full, too full of hope and happiness and every fairy tale she'd ever read to say them at a time like this.

"I love you, too, kid." And she believed every ounce of emotion that dwelled in his voice.

A moment passed between them, one that flamed them in the love and passion they had felt for one another for so long. Rogue let her head fall against his bare chest, crying softly into the skin. He smelled like her... vanilla and honey. Hers. Always hers.

His touch grew weaker, but something in it was colossal as he lifted her chin up to meet his gaze.

"I want you to finish it."

At first, the words made no sense. Finish it? Finish what? But then the realization hit her with lightning force, and her eyes widened at the oncoming sobs and shock that coursed through her veins.

"No!" she cried, vehemently shaking her head. "No, I'm not -

"For me," Logan continued, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. "Finish it for me. Take me."

"Don't talk like this!" She didn't care that she was crying so hard her whole body shook, and she didn't care that she was coming off her hinges in front of him and loud enough that everyone outside could hear. All that mattered was him and getting him to fight.

"I can't do this without you! You promised me! You swore you'd take care of me!"

He nodded his head. "And I will. In here." His hands drifted to her heart, though the sentiment behind his touch was overpowered by his final wish.

How could he want this? For her to take him, his life and powers into her soul...

Hers... always...

He was always right. And he was right even now. He wasn't coming out of this, he wasn't gonna magically heal like he had so many years before when a bullet pierced his skull. This was the end for his life, for him.

But not them. Never them.

"Don't make me do this..." Rogue said softly. "Please... I love you..."

"For me... Do it for me."

Suddenly, her mouth was on his, and he kissed her with such power and ferocity that she never would have known his strength was leaving him. She held him, crying against him, feeling his tears now as they pressed into her own. If she just held on a little tighter... if he just held on a little longer...

No... nothing could change what was coming. What was already here.

She pressed her forehead to his, stroking his face lovingly. He let out a shuddered breath as he tangled his hands in the platinum streaks of hair that framed her face.

"You're my girl, Marie," he said. "Always."

"I know," and then she took her trembling hand in his, lacing their fingers together as she slammed her eyes shut and conjured up the power of her deadly skin.

He gasped. She wailed his name and tried to pull away. But he held on tighter, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer as his life and power began to mingle in her flesh and heal her wounds. Both cried, both whispered words of love and promises that would now be kept for forever.

"I'll take care of you..."

"Miss me, kid?"

He struggled, his body contorting painfully. And then he was still. Everything was still. Everything was quiet. The world seemed to stop and for a single precious second, it remained silent for lovers who'd fought side by and side and lived to tell the tale.

She could feel him now, flooding her veins. He was strong and fearless and loving and good - and she felt a swell of pride as she heard his voice loud and clear in the deep corners of her mind.

"I love you, Marie. Always."

"I love you," she replied, and then the floodgates opened, and she pulled his body in her arms and cried until Bobby pried her away.

"Come on, I'll take care of you."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I promise."

And as she allowed the sweet comfort of sleep to overtake her tired body, Rogue - the Wolverine's Marie - knew it was a promise he would keep. Always.