far away...I'll be gone...will you wait for me...How long?... I don't know, but wait for me...Don't follow me to where I go...far away, I'll be gone, will you wait for me here?...follow...don't follow me to where I've gone...follow...don't follow me to where I've gone...some day you'll take my place...and I'll wait for you here...

--natalie merchant

Xavier's School for the Gifted, Westchester, New York

"I've been treated so wrong, I've been treated so long as if I've become untouchable...".

She laid her head in her hands, the white strands of hair intermixing with the auburn. Over a year now, a year, she'd been untouchable. She tortured herself listening to this song, yet somehow it always soothed her while making her wish she could leave, leave it all, the school, the hallways empty of the one person who wasn't afraid of touching her, the voices in her head, and especially her body. Her unlovable, untouchable body.

She know it was all wrong: the school was the only thing close to a haven she would ever have, and Jean Scott, 'Ro, and Professor Xavier loved her--and pitied her. She was the mutant in the world of mutants. The pity from them all--it weighed her down, made her skin even more of an alien thing that seemed the farthest thing possible from a "gift" of nature. Curse didn't begin to describe it. The guarded touches, the pity in their eyes but never in their voices, the suppression of the voices in her head, of David and Magneto...and of Logan. The one person never afraid of touching her, the untouchable girl. Logan, who had left and taken part of her with him. She never resented him for it; he had to leave, had to find his past. He hadn't realized, though, just who he'd left with his dogtags. The girl who hugged the hallways of the school to avoid the touch she craved and pretended to fit in and be a "normal" teenager--a "normal" girl who had to take correspondence college classes instead of actually going to college like the others, like Kitty, Bobby, Jubilee, St. John, and Gambit...the "normal" mutants. Logan had left a freak in a world of mutants, not a little sister, but a young woman with eyes older than his.

She felt guilty. Guilty for not being happy when she knew she was cared for. For wishing she wasn't who she was. For rejecting herself, for being angry at God and herself and them all, they who had a semblance of normalcy, for recently the pity in their eyes. So she listened to music in her room and told herself not to cry. She took long walks in the woods surrounding the mansion. And she never, ever touched another human. Not even with her gloves on. And she never talked of her "gift" or the pain of living in a skin that was more of a prison than Magneto's plastic bubble could ever be.

untouchable...

She ran her hands through her hair as the song came to a close, pulled on her gloves, and opened the door, heading for the woods. The woods where she could be alone, could pretend she was normal, that Logan loved her and that she could touch his face without hurting him.

She was deep in the grounds, the late October light filtering though the trees, the brilliant red and yellow leaves falling around her, when she heard it.

"Marie?"

Something caught in her chest, and she stumbled. No one but Logan called her that. No one. But this wasn't Logan's voice. It was cool and detached, and she knew, in that split second before the man in the shadows sent a tranquilizer needle into her arm, that the school had indeed been a haven. That there were worse things than being the untouchable freak among freaks. The rotting leaves flew up to meet her, and their deep browns and reds changed to blackness before her eyes.

The Silver Dollar Bar, Alkalai Lake, Canada

He sat, a cigar firmly gripped between his teeth, the smoke curling up lazily to join the cloud of dusty, cigarette-ash-filled air hovering in the dim bar. He tapped the cigar ashes into the cheap crystal ashtray, and took a long drink of the Canadian Gold in front of him.

He had found nothing at the abandoned military base, nothing but empty sterile rooms that brought back horrific nightmares. Nothing but disappointment and the continuation of an empty past and what looked to be an empty future.

Well, not quite an empty future. He shrugged his broad shoulders, the well-worn leather covered with a fine layer of dirt from his ride on Scott's motorcycle. He'd actually have to return the thing one day...go back to the one place where people may actually give a shit what happened to him. To the one person he promised to protect. Marie...he couldn't think of her as Rogue. The only person he'd cared about in the sixteen years of his life he could remember. The girl who'd hidden away in his trailer had somehow taken more than his dogtags when he'd left. He rejected his feelings for her; she was like his kid sister, he shouldn't have any thoughts of her, the girl with poison skin, as anything but a kid. So he tried to think of her as "kid," and put on a facade of having a safe sexual crush on Jean. Nothing deep. Nothing to reveal that he thought of her every night, that he would sometimes glimpse a woman with auburn hair and turn in anticipation, only to tell himself to stop fucking around a minute later, that he shouldn't think of her like that, shouldn't even think of her at all.

But he knew they were tied together, both outcasts in a way the others couldn't understand. They were the true mutants, a man with no memory and claws and a girl with memories she didn't want and untouchable skin. The only time he'd been afraid of death was when she absorbed him on the Statue of Liberty--and he wasn't afraid for himself, but for her. She didn't need any more pain in her life. He wondered if she'd changed, gotten happier at all after he'd left...he'd sent a few scrawled postcards, which was more than he'd ever done for anyone else in his life.

He ground his cigar out and drank the last of his beer, shoving away from the bar and rolling his neck. Well, he'd be back at the good 'ole mutant mansion soon anyway. Might as well, the Professor could maybe help him out, give him a few leads...or maybe he could just stay, some traitorous part of his mind said. Stay with her, stay with Marie. Touch her untouchable skin.

He walked out of the bar, shaking his head in denial, and swung a leg over the dirty motorcycle, his eyes squinting through the suddenly falling rain. He froze. Something unfamiliar, something hidden, he could smell it...

"Logan?"

No one called him Logan--no one here knew his name, and the only people who did call him Logan were a thousand miles away. And he knew that he'd never met man who had just spoken his name. His claws extended in a painful second, his shoulders tensing the second before the tranquilizer dart hit him in the thigh. "What the fuck?!" then blackness, and Scott's motorcycle falling on top of him.

---

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"We've got them both."

---

MorireTech Laboratories, Undisclosed Location

"Alpha G to Alpha R, the subjects have arrived. Repeat, the subjects have arrived. Over."

"Alpha R to Alpha G, arrival confirmed. Subjects being moved into lab as we speak. Repeat, arrival confirmed. Over and out."

---

His head felt heavy, filled with grogginess. Where the hell was he? White...white all around. Stainless steel cold beneath his back. Couldn't move his arms or legs...straps...the memories coming back, rushing through him. He extended his claws and roared, berserker rage claiming him. Rage and terror. Not again...he couldn't live through it again. He growled, the irony of the situation permeating even his rage and the sedative they were pumping through his veins. He could, and would, live through this. He couldn't die even if he wanted to with all his being. He gave a sarcastic low chuckle just as he heard a door slide open, footsteps approach the bed. He strained against his straps and growled yet again.

"He's coming out of it, sir."

"Yes, I can see that. Well, Logan...or should I call you Wolverine? You were easier to attain than we had initially prepared for." The voice approached the bed, until Logan could see the hazy outline of a man, his lower face covered with a medical mask. His cool, clipped voice infuriated Logan all the more, and he struggled vainly against the straps, roaring his rage.

"No, no, don't do that." The man, obviously the superior, turned his head towards the younger man not in Logan's line of vision. "Increase the medication. We can't have him agitated." He turned back to Logan. "We won't hurt you--it's not as if we truly could, now could we? Not with your wonderful mutation. We just want, well, a part of you. You should be proud, Logan, to be a participant in our experiment. Proud to be able to give us the part of you we need..." The man's voice trailed off as the medication began to overwhelm him, but Logan's mind was still reeling with implications of what the bastard had just said. A "part of him?" What the hell was the asshole talking about?...he had to get out, had to escape...the white florescent light dimmed into darkness before his eyes.

---

It was cold. Freezing. There was snow all around her. White snow...such cold snow against her back...snow biting into her arms and ankles.

She opened eyelids that felt as if they were taped shut. Where was she? It hadn't snowed yet in Westchester...it was fall, there were leaves, not snow, leaves...brilliant red and yellow leaves, rotting leaves that she fell on, rotting leaves turning to blackness and oblivion...

Terror overtook her. She wasn't in snow, she was in a white room. Lying on a metal table. Strapped to a cool metal table. She opened her mouth to scream, but only a garbled moan escaped from her lips. She tried to move, but the straps and the medication she now realized was circulating through her body wouldn't let her. She started shaking in fear and pain and coldness. Why? Why her? What did that man want? That man in the woods... She closed her eyes, and for the first time in months, in a year, tears escaped in rivulets down her cold-reddened cheeks.

"Marie? You have nothing to cry about." The voice...it was the voice of the man in the woods. The woods of the mansion, her home...people who cared about her. Yes, they would find her, they would find her. The cool voice was directed at someone other than her, however, when it spoke again.

"Increase this one's medication, as well. You know we can't have them agitated."

"Yes, sir. Increasing test subject R19's sedative level."

She moaned again. Test subject R19? She was a test subject? Logan's memories all came flashing back in a torrent of horror and fear, overwhelming terror. She gathered her strength and thrashed against the table in panic.

Her voice was hoarse, raw. "What..what do you want with me?"

"My dear, we aren't going to hurt you. We simply want part of you...you should be proud to be involved in this experiment..." The cool, emotionless voice seemed to be moving farther and farther away from her. They wanted a part of her? The horror and medication began to overwhelm her, and she returned to the cold snow and blackness hoping for salvation...salvation and Logan...he would protect her...he always protected her.

---

Setting: Five months after abduction

MorireTech Laboratories, Undisclosed Location

She existed on that hazy plane of consciousness between sleep and wakefulness or, in her case, sedation and a groggy semblance of reality. Her thoughts were dreams, and her hope was slowly dwindling. She knew that Scott, 'Ro, Jean, and the Professor would have saved her from the hazy hell she was living in if they could have by now. She had finally realized that they were sedating her not only to keep her from getting "agitated" as the man with the cold eyes and cool voice had said that first day, but also to keep Professor Xavier from detecting her with Cerebro, which would not detect her mind if she were not fully conscious.

She had, in those periods when her sedation was wearing off and she could vaguely comprehend her situation, punished herself. Punished herself and pitied herself. Punished herself for thinking that the worst thing in life was being the freak among freaks, for the pitying looks in the hallways, for the memories that invaded her mind in snatches and lurked in the back of her consciousness at all times. For hating her skin. For hating the people she loved because they could be more "normal" than she could. She laughed sardonically at her love for a man she knew more than he knew himself.

And she pitied herself. Pitied herself for that untouchable skin that she wished with all her heart, every cell of her being, was touchable. All she wanted, all she hoped for, was someone to touch her cheek without falling to ground, shaking in pain. She was the carrier of death, this body she hated. She pitied herself for her mutation, punished herself for asking God "why?" Why did she deserve this, this thing that was as far from a "gift" as possible? She pitied herself for loving Logan and realizing that to him, she was viewed more as a child as a girl who had seen more through others' eyes than most people ever dreamed of experiencing in a lifetime.

And she floated, floated in that white, windowless room.

Strapped to a softer bed, but still strapped. Always strapped. She thought that she must have been lying there for at least four months; she couldn't truly tell, but her body knew, somehow, that she had been here for months.

She tried not to dwell on what they were doing to her, what "part" of her they wanted, as Test Subject R19. She had never felt any pain, but the horror she felt at what they must be doing to her when she was sedated forced her mind into a black void that emptied her of hope. She, at this point, hoped more for the peace of the people she loved than for her rescue. She barely held onto the hope that one day she would be back in the school, with the people she cared for and who cared for her. She, lying on that bed, had even forgiven her parents at some point. She would never understand, but she forgave.

And Logan...some part of her wished that he would know that she had loved him, for all that he had ever been and was, and that she knew him, inside and out, but, at the end, she just wanted him happy. Or content...just to stop running, that driving force she understood all too well. To leave, to get away. She hoped that he would find a place he wouldn't have to run from ever again.

She heard the machine emit a series of clicks that she had learned to recognize as the sedative that was pumped into her bloodstream every few hours. She closed her eyes, and welcomed the darkness. Maybe this time, she would wake up in the school. Or maybe this time, she wouldn't wake up at all.

---

"Sir?" The younger man questioned. He began pressing various buttons at the workstation directly in front of him.

"Yes?" The man's cold voice came from beneath a medical mask that the younger man also wore. He looked through the two-way mirror at the girl lying on the bed. She would be the means to the end of his life's work, the culmination of his career.

"Sir, the subject is becoming more and more resistant to the medication. Should we increase her dosage?"

"Yes, but slowly. The sedatives won't damage her in any way, but there's no need to overload her system. We can't risk the experiment."

"Yes, sir. We've increased the other test subject's medication, however, as you ordered. His healing properties are extremely resistant to all but the highest levels of our sedatives."

"Yes...he's of virtually no use to us now, but on the slim chance that this experiment does not succeed, we will use him again. Also, we can test our ending product on him, can we not, which will be in our hands soon, if all goes well. We have approximately five months before the government becomes too suspicious of our activities, which should be plenty of time."

"Excellent plan, sir." The younger man looked up. "And I know the experiment will work, sir. It's gone according to all plans so far, perfectly. I wanted to congratulate on your work."

"Thank you, but we can't rest until everything goes according to plan." The man's ice-cold silver eyes never left the sleeping form behind the mirror. The brilliant plans, my little Marie, that we could not have done without you. He smiled in satisfaction under the medical mask.

---

One month later

She woke suddenly, and the grogginess of the medication was less that it had ever been. They must have underestimated the medication level. Her first instinct, even with her hope a thing she had almost finished burying long ago, was to try and contact the Professor while her mind was the most aware it had been in months. Professor, help me...please...Professor... the effort exhausted her, and she barely had the strength to do what she knew she had to do, before she lost her bravery and before they sedated her again. The whiteness of the room was blinding as she slowly extended her arms as far as the straps would allow, and gingerly touched her collarbone. She couldn't reach her face, but her chest was smooth and untouched. The horror that they had somehow experimented with her skin abated slightly as she continued her exploration, her mind still slightly groggy.

She ran her hands slowly down each arm, her stomach tilting at what they could have done to her, even though she felt nothing overtly wrong. She moving the palms of her hands down her chest, slowly, slowly...and ran her hands over a swollen stomach. A pregnant stomach. Her pregnant stomach.

O God, O God, O God, no no no Her mind began rebelling, revolted with the realization of what "part" of her they had actually wanted. She could hear her own screams echo in her ears and in the white, sterile room as she struggled against the straps, against what they had done to her. She felt as if her chest was being constricted by a vise, the terror and horror of what they had done to her bringing her mind to darkness faster than the faceless figures who had heard her screams and were filling her veins with clear fluid from needles, hovering over her, their latex gloves holding her down, her horror-filled screams the last thing her mind registered before she escaped into the darkness.

---

Logan jerked awake, the medication dulling his senses, but he could still hear the screams. Screams filled with indescribable horror and the fear that he knew all too well. They brought him out of his groggy state of mind when he realized they were feminine. Feminine, and, and...the horror of his realization jerked him out of the sedative more than he could have ever thought, even with his healing abilities. For the screams that were only now dying were Marie's. He would recognize her voice anywhere. He thought he had smelled her throughout the months, tantalizing moments before he realized it was all in his head. He never realized that it was true... that she was here...not Marie...not Marie. His rage- and fear-filled roar echoed more loudly than Marie's screams had, and his claws released at the same time the rage-induced adrenaline pumping through his blood allowed him to break his arms free of the straps holding him to the bed at the exact moment figures in masks appeared in the doorway.

---

Setting: Five months after abduction.

Xavier's School for the Gifted, Westchester, New York

Professor, help me, please....help me... The fleeting thought touched Xavier's mind, startling him awake. Rogue? He tried desperately to reach her mind, but she was already gone. Still, that brief contact gave him hope. He hadn't been able to find her with Cerebro, and he, as well as the other X-men, suspected the worst. But they had all hoped. Now, he could search for her. His mind sought out Jean, portraying all the hope he felt and the desperation Rogue had sent.

Jean? Professor?...Oh God, Professor...I hope she's all right, I hope... I'll meet you at Cerebro? She sounded panicked, yet filled with the same hope for the girl they all loved and blamed themselves for not finding sooner. Yes, at Cerebro. And tell the others.

---

Cerebro

The images swirled around him, his consciousness expanding, expanding...but no Rogue. No young woman with white streaks of hair and eyes older than his. He slumped forward slightly, the disappointment weighing heavily on him. Something prodded his consciousness, and he felt the presence of the man they hadn't been able to contact for reasons they assumed were his own for the past few months. Logan.

Professor Xavier hadn't wanted to tell Wolverine of Rogue's absence until they had exhausted all leads. Logan's berserker rage, he believed, would only hinder the search for the girl he had saved repeatedly. But this Logan, the one he encountered in the culmination of all the minds on earth, was releasing a rage so powerful that Xavier struggled to maintain the link. Before he could take the connection any longer, he knew the reason for Logan's rage. And where both he and Marie were. There was no time to waste.

---

MorireTech Laboratories, located in the remote Canadian Rockies

The white walls of the room Logan had been kept in for what he estimated to be months were splattered with streaks of brilliant red. Logan fought his way through the bevy of masked medical figures armed with tranquilizer guns which were no match for his overwhelming rage. Rage at being kept again as a test subject for unknown reasons, rage at his wish that his body would finally let him die. Rage at thinking that Marie was safe. Safe from anything as horrific as what had happened to him the first time he had been experimented on.

He stalked past the moaning bodies on the floor, sniffing the air for more assailants as well as for her scent. The hallways were as white as the room he had been strapped in, with the medical smell he so despised. The hallways were also empty, which signaled to him that although this may be a high-security lab, they weren't prepared for one of their "test subjects" to break out so easily. He gripped the wall, clad only a thin paper gown, his animalistic instincts and rage fueling his stealth as he followed the scent of Marie, a scent of fear and horror.

He swung the door open when Marie's scent was overwhelming.

He saw figures over a still form on a bed, needles spurting clear fluid, and his growl was the last sound they heard before they were all lying unconscious on the floor.

Logan moved closer to Marie's still form, which was curled into a fetal position as far as the straps on her arms and legs would allow. All the long months, he had thought of her, of the girl he knew he loved. He had only wanted her to be happy...he should have protected her. The thought plagued him as the realization that she, too, had been living in the hazy hell he had existed in came to him.

He wanted to kill all the bastards who had done this to her, strapped her down. He could survive something like this even if he wished daily he couldn't, but Marie...Marie had had all the pain and more she deserved for a lifetime. Fucking bastards...had they wanted a "piece" of her as well? He quickly moved over to her, his extended claws slicing through the straps holding her unconscious body to the bed.

Her hair covered her face, and he realized she had been heavily sedated. She also was wearing only a thin hospital gown, and to avoid her skin he gathered the sheet off the bed and gently pulled it around her...Marie, Marie, I'm so sorry...so fucking sorry...I promised...I promised... He gently turned her limp body over, finally able to see her face. It was streaked with tears, and he barely controlled his rage. He moved to cover the rest of her body in the sheet, coming to a shocked stop when he saw her stomach. She was pregnant. Pregnant.

His face contorted at the same time he emitted a tortured low moaning growl. No, oh God, no...what the hell had those bastards done? How the hell had they...? He gathered her body close to him, his arms tightening around her form. God, baby...Marie...I'm so sorry. I'll take care of you, baby...I'll get you the hell out of here... He gently gripped her to his chest, her head lolling against his shoulder, his rage at what had been done to her building with every second passing second.

He entered the still-empty hallway, and, smelling a faint scent of fresh air, clutched Marie tightly to his chest and began to run, careful not to hurt her. Oh God Marie...we'll get out of here, baby, I promise He was desperate, he couldn't let them have her again.

"Drop the girl, Logan." The cool voice echoed in the hallways. Logan turned, tightening his arms around Marie, to meet the cold eyes and face that belonged to that voice, that voice that had kidnapped him.

"No fucking way." His voice was filled with barely contained rage overlaid with a strength that echoed the cold metal running throughout his body.

"I can't let you take her. She's carrying the perfect mutant, my perfect plan." The man's eyes grew intense with the light of his obsession as he walked towards Logan, who couldn't move to kill the bastard without endangering Marie. The man's gun was pointed directly at Logan's head with an unwavering, focused hand.

"Yeah? How the fuck are you going to stop me, you bastard? If you shoot me I'll still run." Logan's claws, carefully avoiding Marie, extended even further.

"Oh, I wouldn't shoot you." The man's eyes gleamed in the fluorescent light. "If I can't fulfill my experiment, then she'll die. Marie will die, carrying the perfect assassin with her. A mutant with her ability to kill by touch." He smiled, a cold, triumphant smile. "And your healing abilities, Logan."

The shock of what the man had implied filled Logan's mind. Marie...Marie was carrying his child? His child?

"You see, I needed the genetic material from both of you. After we had achieved our purpose, of course, you would have been terminated. We would have tested on you a bit more, perhaps, but we had what we wanted." Logan's rage was increasing, along with the shock of knowing that Marie, his Marie, was carrying his child for a twisted, sick purpose. He controlled his anger to the point of trying to escape before the bastard actually tried to shoot Marie.

Logan slowly, ever so slowly, began to edge towards the doorway, where he could smell hints of fresh air and the promise of escape.

"Oh, no, you don't. Don't even try it. I'll be forced to shoot her if you move another inch. I don't truly want to - I have put an amazing amount of time and effort into her - but I will if I have to. There are so many other mutants to experiment on, you know."

He smiled again, his ice-cold eyes gleaming. "Actually, perhaps you're not really worth the trouble." He raised his gun towards Logan's head. "If I aim correctly, you'll be out long enough for me to whisk her away. Or...I might miss and "accidentally" hit your little Marie."

Logan's roar of rage echoed throughout the halls as the man casually pulled the trigger, Logan desperately trying to protect the young woman in his arms from the threat... "No!!!" He landed on the floor, huddling over Marie as gently as possible, fully expecting pain and darkness. Marie, I'm so sorry...I love you...so sorry... and braced for a bullet than never came.

Logan looked up in time to see the cold-eyed man's expression of utter shock as a ray of intense red light poured through his upper chest as he fell towards Logan, huddling on the floor with Marie.

Logan was close enough to see that the man's eyes, wide with pain, also held anger that he himself knew all too well. Those cold eyes narrowed as he slowly pulled the trigger of the gun, the barrel pointed straight at Marie's head in a last desperate attempt to control the lives of his "test subjects."

The bullet entered Logan's shoulder at the exact moment Logan's claws entered the man's chest, culminating in a combined scream of rage and pain. Logan turned painfully back to the unconscious Marie, his shoulder already healing itself, and gathered her up with his good arm, looking up in time to see Scott, who had finally reached them after blasting the dead man on the floor. Jean and Ororo arrived just behind Scott, expressions of intense worry and hope on their faces. Scott held his hand out to Logan, his voice intent on escaping with the safety of his team members.

"Let's go. We don't have any time to waste." Logan carefully cradled Marie to his chest as he unsteadily stood.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

---

"Misery from the start,
It's dull, it's slow, it's painful
But I tell you life is sweet
In spite of the misery
There's so much more, be grateful"
Life is Sweet, Natalie Merchant

---

Setting: five to six months after abduction

Interior of X-jet

"Lifting off in three...two...one..." Scott concentrated on bringing the jet into the air, intent on the control panel before him. Without taking his eyes off the machinery in front of him, he called to the people behind him. "Jean? 'Ro? Stabilized?"

The lack of defense, other than the doctor he had blasted in the hall moments earlier and a few guards, signified that the facility, other than being small, also hadn't anticipated detection in any form. Which was, of course, good for them...two team members rescued. His face grew grimmer. Hopefully, two team members rescued in mind as well as body. The trees flew beneath the low, rain-ridden clouds of the mountains as the jet ascended into the air.

"Yes, Scott, we're all in. I'll get Rogue safely secured in a second." Jean's eyes closed briefly as she connected with her lover.

God, Scott....I hope they're all right. I wish we could have been there sooner... Scott looked briefly over his shoulder, his eyes softening with pain for the two rescues in the back, and for the guilt he shared with his wife. Jean, you know we would have come sooner if we could have. It's not your fault, any of our faults.

Her answer was soft, tear-filled. I know, Scott, I know. I just wish... A mental sigh whispered through his mind as she ducked through the low door leading to the back.

As she approached Logan, who was clutching a sheet-encased Rogue to his chest, her legs pulled to her own chest, she attempted connecting with Rogue. All she encountered was a blank haze. The sedation was powerful, but as far as she could tell, harmless. But she needed to make sure they were more healthy, in the immediate sense at least.

"Logan...are you all right?" Ororo's soft voice was filled with worry. Her white hair was glowing dully in the jet's internal light. Logan's eyes were closed, his head close to Rogue's, whom he was, seemingly unconsciously, rocking back and forth. His lips were forming soundless words. He was wearing a thin medical gown splattered with dried blood, his face unshaven.

"Logan..." Jean echoed 'Ro. "I need to check you both over."

She moved forward to where he sat cradling Rogue, slipping latex gloves over her hands. She stopped when he looked up.

Logan's hazel eyes were filled with more pain than she had ever seen before, than she could have thought capable of anyone. He clutched the girl in his arms more tightly against him, his lips still moving silently. Jean turned to Ororo in worry, but Ororo was concentrating on Logan's mouth.

"You're sorry? Logan, you have nothing to be sorry for."

Storm unbuckled her seatbelt and stood, approaching him. She reached a hand out.

"...so sorry, Marie baby, so sorry..." he was repeating it like a mantra, his eyes focused somewhere in front of him. She and Jean glanced at each other.

"Logan, let go of Marie, just for a second. We have to make sure she, and you, are all right. Logan?" Jean started forward. "Let me see her." She reached out and placed a hand on his.

Logan looked up, his eyes focusing on her. "Jean?...I'm so sorry. I should have protected her. I promised. Those fucking bastards...those fucking bastards!"

Jean and 'Ro's eyes met. "Logan, what did they do to her? Is she all right? You have to let us see her. Please, Logan." Jean's worry was escalating, and she could tell from the white beginning to creep into Ororo's eyes that she, as well, was frightened.

Logan looked up at both of them, suddenly stopping his low, mumbling mantra. His eyes seemed to pin them both, the pain he felt transferred through his intense gaze.

"I don't know how they did it...how the hell they even could have..." He slowly began to turn Rogue's limp body over, the sheet still shrouding her from full view. His muscles tensed, as if every movement was causing him immense pain. Rogue's face, tear-streaked, strands of auburn and white sticking to her cheeks, was turned towards Jean when Ororo's strangled cry sounded throughout the plane.

Jean looked down at Rogue, the sheet partially slipping to the floor. Rogue was pregnant. Pregnant. Jean stopped in utter shock.

Ororo slipped into the seat, holding a hand over her mouth as Logan tenderly wrapped the sheet around Rogue's still form.

"Oh my God. God. Logan...how?" Jean's hand were limp in the air as she stared at the young woman she had come to care for as a younger sister in the past year.

"What's wrong?" Scott's concerned voice cut through the shock-filled air. Jean turned to see her fiance through through the door. "Scott...she's...Rogue's...God, Scott, she's pregnant." Scott's mouth dropped open.

"How the hell...? What the fuck did they do to her?" His voice was filled with anger. Anger and the same immense shock she felt.

Jean looked back at Logan cradling Rogue. God, she was as sorry as he was. Sorry for what had been done to her. For what it had done to Logan. She knew Logan had loved Rogue, but she had never known how much until she saw him rocking the still form in his arms.

Poor Rogue...to be violated in such as unfeeling, scientific way. For there could be now other way for her to be pregnant...she truly must have been an "experiment." And Logan...to have found her, to know that they were both tested on. For him to go through experimentation again in his life was too much. Her eyes were moist, and tears unknowingly slipped down her cheeks as she reached a gloved hand to test Rogue's pulse, the doctor in her taking over in a time of crisis.

Just as she touched Rogue's neck, the girl's eyes snapped open, her eyes wide with pain that matched Logan's, and fear. And something else, something more disturbed. Rogue shoved away violently from the man holding her, the memories of needles and months spent in a white, cold hell with a devil with a cool voice and ice eyes blocking her vision. She fell to the floor and scrambled to her hands and knees, the memories flooding through her. With one last memory, one memory that made her blood run cold and hope that she could be sedated forever. She ran one hand down her stomach and screamed. No, no, no...it couldn't be true...couldn't.... She curled into a ball, the feeling of violation pervading her body. Her tainted body. Eyes closed tightly, she pounded her hands against her stomach weakly and rocked back and forth senselessly. She didn't care where she was. She wished they'd just put her out of her misery. Oh God, oh God, oh God... She repeated a mantra of her own while her low, keening wail filled the plane.

She jerked away from the hands suddenly grasping her shoulders. "No, no, don't touch me! Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me!" She screamed in horror for all that had been done to her, and for what they were sure to do to her in the future.

"Marie! Marie, baby, stop, you're safe." She was being gripped against someone's chest, a sheet covering her.

Logan...am I losing my mind? I'd rather leave, go to Logan's voice than here... Her screams slowly died. "Logan?" she moaned.

"Oh God, Marie, I'm so sorry, baby." Arms surrounding her, rocking her back and forth. It smelled like Logan, and sounded like his voice, filled with pain and regret, and worry...but it couldn't be Logan. Not in this hell. She wouldn't wish it on anyone. Especially the person she loved the most. She opened her eyes slowly...and saw the faces of Jean and Ororo hovering over her, tears streaking both their cheeks. They attempted shaky smiles when they saw her open eyes. For the first time, she recognized the sound of Scott's worried voice in the background, yelling, asking about her. Hope filled her, something she thought she had buried long ago, along with her innocence, in that white, white room. Was she really safe? Rescued? Her eyes filled with tears. If they were real...that would mean he was, too.

Logan...

Logan was holding her. She looked up, into the hazel eyes she though she would never see again. His eyes were intense with the same feeling she had heard in his voice, all the pain and regret...and hope.

Hope for her?

"Logan?" Her voice was weak, but she clutched at his chest tighter than she could have imagined possible. "Logan? Is it really you?" She was sobbing now.

He smiled sadly as he gently ran his hand over her hair. "It's me, baby. You're all right now..." But she remembered. She wasn't all right, and she never could or would be.

"Logan...what did they do to me? What?! Oh God..." she began to rock again, past the point of crying, her chest heaving in panic. "Logan, please...tell me it's not true...not true, not true..." She closed her eyes tightly against her words, her realization. Because she knew it was true. She knew...

"I'm sorry, baby." His voice was rough and filled with pain.

She burrowed into his chest, arms clutching him, as far away from her stomach as she could get.

Logan looked up at the two silently crying women in front of him. Ororo stared into his eyes, her heart clenching at the thought of what had been done to Rogue. Rogue, the one person who never deserved any more pain in her life. She spoke, her tears clogging her voice. "We'll be home soon. Soon."

---

Setting: Six (and a half?) months after abduction
Xavier's School for Gifted Children, New York

The stark metal walls of the medical lab surrounded her, just as those white walls had...No, Marie, no...it's different, they won't hurt you. They'd never hurt you. Some traitorous part of her mind pointed out that there wasn't much more could they even do to her, besides death, that hadn't already been done to her. She felt dirty, violated in all ways, her pregnancy something that she refused to think about at this point. She sat on the edge of the examining table, hair falling across her face. She didn't - couldn't - even care that her medical gown, thin and covered with splotches of what looked to be dried blood from when Logan was holding her, was gaping open in the back. She vainly, clumsily, tried to twist one arm around and close it, but soon gave up when her fingers somehow couldn't find both edges at once. She laughed quietly. For the first time she wasn't drugged out of her mind, she felt like she had just taken enough sedatives to frighten a cocaine-addict. She closed her eyes against the sound of Jean snapping on latex gloves and gripped the table with cool fingers, the sheet pooled about her, trailing on the floor.

Rogue started when she felt the two edges of her gown being gently pulled together for her, and turned her head so sharply her vertebrae protested. Logan stood behind her, his hand remaining on her back after he had closed the gaping gown, warmth radiating through the flimsy material. She felt as if he was an anchor, bringing her to earth, never letting her float away, even as much as she'd like to. The pain she felt at realizing that he, too, had been kept made her angry, not only for himself, but for him. She would have killed the doctor with the ice-cold eyes without a doubt, if Logan hadn't already done it himself, for experimenting not only on her, but on the man she loved - the man who loved her as a little sister, apparently.

Marie-no, Rogue - stop. Don't think. How can you even think about loving Logan at a time like this? A time like this... She closed her eyes again, hunching over slightly. It's the only way - to think of other things, impossible things, is better than thinking of the truth.

Logan remained silent beside her as she berated herself for her thoughts. She wondered at what she saw in his eyes, on his face; it wasn't just anger and pity and sadness, but something else - an indescribable regret and an edge of nervousness that she hadn't associated with him unless he was facing a threat. But no threat here, she thought ...only poor broken Rogue and the good Doctor.

The good Doctor who was coming towards here at the moment with a small needle filled with clear liquid. Logan's hand tensed on her back, and she spoke, the first time since returning to the mansion earlier in the evening.

"No drugs." Her voice was low and sore, but firm. She wouldn't be sedated again. Ever, if she could help it. Ever.

Jean's face was filled with pity. Always pity for little Rogue...and I thought I knew what pity was. What a fool...what a fucking fool. Marie closed her eyes again. Shut out the world, shut out the world...

"All right, Rogue. No drugs. I just thought they'd make you more relaxed...but don't worry, it'll be fine."

Jean's voice was a doctor's voice, but not distant like the doctors Rogue had encountered the last few months. But still...that medicinal quality to all doctors' voices, even Jean's, would make her cringe involuntarily for the rest of her life.

Jean began to talk, telling her what she was doing, step by step, mindless talk to calm her. Taking her temperature, throat cultures, etc. Routine. "To make sure you're all right, honey..." Jean laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Logan hand moved, still silent, ignored by Jean until this point in the examination.

"Logan...would you mind stepping out in the hall for this part of the examination? Her voice was tinged with embarrassment, not for herself, Marie knew, but for her sake. The broken girl sitting on the table. But the broken girl was past the point of embarrassment. She just wanted this over with.

Logan looked up. Marie could feel his eyes on boring into as she hunched over even further, her spine forming an arch. He looked as embarrassed as she knew she would have been if she had been, well, the Marie before...

"Yeah...I'll be in the hall if you need me." He stalked through the door, wearing only a sweat suit he had picked up in the jet, his gown thrown the trash.

"Rogue, honey...do you...remember, or even know, what they did to you?" Jean's eyes were kind, caring. Jean was her friend. She loved Jean like a sister. She could tell her, she could do this.

"No...I don't remember anything. Anything but being sedated, always sedated. Everything hazy. I...I just woke up one day, they must have given me the wrong dose, I don't know...but I realized, and I just... just screamed, then I...I must have passed out." Not as bad as you thought, Marie. Jean nodded.

"I still need to do an examination, though, honey. Just tell me if you feel pain or want me to stop, okay?" She nodded, but by the time she was done, Marie's hands were white from gripping them together. She tried not to cry - she'd stopped crying, no crying anymore...but a low sob escaped her as Jean covered her with a medical blanket.

"Oh, honey...I'm so sorry, so sorry. Nothing's physically wrong, though - you're...your body is healthy." She couldn't say fine.

Jean knew she wasn't "fine." She carefully put her arms around Marie as her sobs became louder, a hiccup-sob that echoed in the room, and apparently the hallway, because Logan came charging in, wild-eyed.

"Is she all right?" He growled, swiftly approaching the table.

Jean looked up. "Logan..." She sighed. "I think it's time for bed, honey." She looked at Logan, then turned back to Marie. "I'll get you one of the lab's nightgowns." She rummaged through a drawer behind her, coming up with a light blue, thicker gown before approaching Rogue with it. "Hop off the table for a bit."

Cold, trembling hands took the gown from her and awkwardly tried to put it on over a pre-existing gown. She was suddenly aware of Logan standing closely next to her, as she somehow got it stuck over her head, and someone gently began to ease in over her hunched shoulders and pulled in down to pale knees. She mumbled thanks into the fabric covering her face as she freed her arms, fully intending to see Jean begin to button up the front of the gown now. She was too tired and beaten to protest being treated like a child. Instead of Jean buttoning her gown, however, there was Logan. She looked up to him while he finished the last button, his wild hair falling into his eyes as he concentrated on fitting one blue button into its satin-lined hole. Marie managed to pull the loose gown out from beneath the gown, glad to be rid of anything that reminded her of the lab, and turned to plod up to her room. She had only gone a few steps when strong arms lifted her up from behind.

"She can sleep with me tonight." Jean looked shocked, but apparently recognized the look on Logan's face, because she only nodded and murmured a soft "good night" to them both. Logan turned back briefly. "And Jean...there's something...something I have to tell you." His voice was harsh. "Tomorrow."

The hallways were empty, but they still represented safety, relative happiness. For the first time in months, Marie was feeling tired. Not sedated, but truly tired. She rested her head against Logan's warm sweatshirt-clad chest, too tired to even think why he was insisting she sleep in his room, or to wonder what he had to tell Jean tomorrow. She was safe...not "fine," but safe, and Logan's bed was so warm, and no white walls in sight, only Logan as he pulled a blanket around her to protect them both, and settled down next to her, breathing her name softly as she reached for him, sleeping without fear for the first time since that day six and a half months ago.

---

Setting: Xavier's School for the Gifted, Westchester, New York. 2 a.m. in the morning.

Logan jerked awake, claws unsheathing involuntarily. His mind immediately threw off the last remnants of sleep as he quickly sat up, covers tangling about his legs.

"It's only me, Logan...don't worry. I just have to go to the bathroom." Marie's voice was soft in the darkness. She stood by the bed, her hair in disarray, her eyes full of pain and sadness, emptiness even in the darkness.

"I won't be gone long." She murmured as she turned, still watching him, and walked to the bathroom. He nodded. "Go back to sleep, Logan," she continued, her voice the same texture as what he imagined her hair would sound like if he grasped it between his callus-roughened fingers. His claws sheathed, he watched her walk to the door and carefully shut it, her rounded body it the soft blue nightgown, luminescent in the murky darkness. The light switched on, a thin sliver of light under the door, before he allowed himself to lay down again. He stared at the ceiling. How the hell was he going to tell her? What the fuck was he going to tell her? Explain to her? He was going to tell Jean tomorrow, ask her to tell Marie?...ask the Professor what to do, maybe...but he knew he would be the one to tell Marie. It was almost like he had been a part in it all, in whatever they had experimented on her. Which he had - but still, it wasn't his fault. He had to remind himself, or the rage would overcome him, yet again. He felt the need to go and cut, cut the pain away, fight and fight. Which he would have done, before her. Before the school. Before everything. Cage fights in smoky bars. But now, he couldn't. He had to be strong for her, the girl in the bathroom who was unknowingly carrying the results of their horror in those white rooms. Would she hate him, some insidious part of his mind prodded, for something he had no control over? No, she never would, never hate him for something that had been done to both of them. His greatest fear, irrational as it was, lurked in his mind. For not protecting her, for not being there when those bastards kidnapped her and performed on her, used her as a piece of flesh with no feelings or thoughts, no humanity. No humanity for mutants.

Sweat gathered on his brow, and he clenched his fists to keep the claws from escaping. He'd stay by her now - protect her, like he promised, that long-ago day. He loved her, he knew, even though he knew the rest of the world would see it as nothing, that there was no way in fucking hell he knew her well enough to love her. But she knew him well enough, knew him better than anyone on the face of the damn planet, and still loved him despite it. He would always love her for that, no matter what anyone said. She was acceptance. She was the one person who cared for him, and for whom he had felt anything for in the time he could remember, those long memory-less years, even before she had spoken to him, he felt something he had never felt before: a connection, eyes meeting in a bar, glances, and he had been caught.

He loved her, loved the girl with untouchable skin and a life full of pain that he wouldn't wish on anyone. Pain he would gladly take from her if he could.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, rough stubble and sweat, waiting for her to come back. Waiting for her...he would wait for her for the entirety of his mortal, immortal life, twisted life, as long as it took, he would wait for her.

---

She stared at herself in the mirror, hair long, dark, hanging limply, eyes shadowed in the harsh fluorescent light. The nausea she had felt erupted within her yet again, and as she looked towards the toilet, the gleaming white of the porcelain, something within her recoiled, and she pushed open the door to the adjoining empty guest bedroom, and into the hallway. She began to run, she had to run. Run, run, run...her mind urged. Run from it all...bare feet clumsy against the cool wooden floor, hair falling across her cheeks, nausea rising within her.

She reached the balcony, level with the ground, just in time.

She leaned over the oleander bushes, their blossoms white in the darkness, doubled over. She stood up, wiping her mouth with a shaking hand, and realized where her other hand was. On her stomach, instinctively protective. She laughed helplessly, her eyes filling with moisture, and staggered the few steps to the grass in front of the patio-balocony, sitting down and wrapping her arms as far around her knees as she could.

The night was warm, summer darkness that caressed her face like gentle hands. The stars were so clear against the night, she reached a hand towards them, the wind in the trees swaying the earth gently. Her hair gripped her cheeks and struggled with the breeze. It was so beautiful, the gentle darkness, the feel of the soft flannel of the nightgown against her skin, the bright lights of the night sky falling gently onto her, the trees whispering to her, and she realized she was crying.

She was crying because, she realized, there was still something. There was always something when she thought there was nothing. The wind, the leaves dancing in the darkness, the cool grass beneath her bare feet. She was smiling through her tears, and she realized that she was trying, trying, to let go. She knew. She knew that she couldn't hold onto what they had done to her. She couldn't help but hate them, a hate that would, most likely, never entirely dissipate within her should, those cold doctors in the cold rooms, but they had given her something, something when she thought there was nothing.

For now she knew she could survive. She knew that no matter who loved her, who didn't, what happened, what didn't happen, that she could survive. She was untouchable. She looked down for the first time, intentionally, at her stomach. It wasn't its fault, the life growing within her. She would try to love it, the baby she thought she would never have. Love it more than those cold doctors could ever love anything. She would try. They were together now - she laughed ironically. At least now, after all this, she was sure to have someone. Someone she was too young to have, but still, when had she ever been young? She couldn't remember seeing her eyes filled with youth, only years that had been forced on her soul, but not her body. She could, she would, love the life inside her. And she would tolerate her life. She looked up into the sky again, and shut her eyes. She would go on. She would always go on, no matter how fucked up, no matter how things were, she told herself. No matter. She could hold onto the way the wind danced through the trees tonight, the way she felt sleeping next to the man who she knew didn't love her as she loved him, the warmth of the night air and the warmth of his body through blankets.

She could feel the stars through her closed eyes, and imagined she was flying through them, through those worlds of light, when something heavy dropped around her shoulders. She jumped, half-raising herself, prepared to run, when she realized who was beside her.

"What are you doing out here, Marie?" His voice was as gruff as ever, the blanket on her shoulders warm as she slowly settled down onto the grass again. She studied his profile, stubble even darker in the night light, the broad shoulders tense, close to her. He turned to look at her.

"I had to...I had to get out." Her voice wasn't wavering as she though it would, and she was proud, in some small, infinitesimal way.

"You...you feel alright?" He knew it was an inane question, of course she wasn't all right, you bastard, angry at himself for his lack of eloquence.

She looked at him, hair falling over her face. She pulled the blanket around her.

"I've been better." He looked sharply at her.

"...Marie..." He knew he had to, he had to tell her, had to get it over with. She had to know, it was killing him, even this short time that felt like years.

"Logan" she interrupted. She swallowed, then carefully placed a hand gently on his arm. "Thank you...for getting me, for saving me."

His arm tensed beneath her hand. "They...they didn't...what did they do to you?" She had to know, and hoped it wasn't bad. He didn't deserve to be treated like an animal, he had never deserved it.

"You shouldn't be thanking me." His voice was harsh, condemning. And she realized he was condemning himself. "They didn't really do shit to me, Marie. Just drugged me up so damn much I didn't know where the fuck I was." Muscles tense, he turned to look at her. "I didn't protect you-"

She looked at him, incredulous. "Logan, you saved my life. I... I would have given up. I had almost given up, Logan. And you saved me. I know...I know that it won't be the same, my life...but Logan...I'm not in that white room anymore, strapped to that bed." And silently she added, and you're here with me.

"Marie..." He closed his eyes, as if in pain. "There's more... more you don't know."

She stared at him, leaving her hand on his arm, the night sky fading for them both. It was only Logan and Marie, on the grass, two wounded people. And then she felt something, a kick, her body twisting slightly. She gasped, slight pain, but not unhealthy pain, running through her, her hands automatically going to her abdomen.

"What? What is it, Marie?" His voice was frantic, and he reached out before he could think, all he knew was that he had to touch her. If she was in pain...maybe it was a side effect of the experimentation. He couldn't let anything else hurt her...

She felt his fingers against her check, the barest brushing of skin, but that brief touch was enough. Enough to look into his eyes, filled with guilt that wasn't his at all, enough to know...Oh God... she couldn't believe...it was his? Logan's? Waves of emotion, intense sadness for what had been done, an unreasonable happiness that it was Logan, not some unknown person in the night....She drew an incredulous breath, and realized that, as she began to jerk away, horror filling her at the thought of hurting the one person she loved, that she wasn't hurting him. She wasn't hurting him at all.

His eyes held all the surprise and wonder she felt, as his fingers, rough skin gently gliding over her cheek, and she could feel his thoughts, but she wasn't absorbing his life. She was absorbing what he was feeling: the shock, the wonder, the fear, the intense, intense pleasure, happiness, the guilt of what hadn't been his fault.

And what he felt for her. He loved her. She raised a wavering hand to his face, his beautiful face, and felt his love...his love for her, her.

"Marie..." he whispered, and she realized that he could feel her thoughts as well, feel her love. She smiled through her tears, and Logan's lips were soft against her own, closing eyes filled with wonder, both filled with happiness they shared together. They never knew...never knew there could be happiness out of pain, intermixed, and overcoming, skin touching, souls touching. Never alone again the thought passed through them both, through the one they had become, beneath that night sky with the wind dancing around them.

---

"my tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
the morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all
and even if I could it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall
it reminds me that it's not so bad, its not so bad
I drank too much last night, got bills to pay, my head just feels in pain
and then you call me and it's not so bad, it's not so bad and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life"-
"thankyou" –dido

---

Setting: Xavier's School for the Gifted

"I don't understand." Logan's low, frustrated growl sounded from where he was sitting with Marie, who was lying on the examining table, clutching his hand. His bare hand, Jean noted. Bare.

Jean simply stared at the entwined hands for a moment longer. The shock of the past few days was increasing and growing with each second.

"Jean?" Marie's soft voice brought her back to reality.

Jean smiled at the young woman, and then studied the test results in her hands. "Truthfully, I can't believe this...I'm amazed."

She looked at the suddenly tight face of Logan, who was clearly anticipating bad news, and the mirroring look on Rogue's face. God, Marie deserved this. She deserved happiness more than any of them did - she and Logan deserved a chance.

"It's nothing to worry about," she said, unconsciously slipping into her doctor's persona. "It seems that your pregnancy, Rogue, is the cause of this." Jean noticed the tightening of Logan's fingers around Rogue's hand, his sudden stiffness. Logan had told them of his part in Marie's pregnancy earlier that morning when he and Marie had woken her and Scott up at an ungodly hour in the morning, the irrepressible hope on their faces fueling her own hope that Rogue would be better, happier. When she had heard that Logan's news of his suspected parentage, she had immediately taken blood samples. The tests had come back positive a few minutes ago. When she had told the pair the news, Marie had looked into Logan's eyes, her voice soft as she voiced her thoughts with such love and feeling that Jean felt like an intruder. "I'm glad it's you, Logan," Marie had murmured, and Logan's reply had made Jean turn her back to give them a semblance of privacy. "Are you sure, Marie?" His quiet voice, full of guilt that shouldn't have been his. "Always, Logan. It's not your fault. It never was. Are...are you sorry?" Jean had heard his answer, full of such emotion that her eyes filled with tears. "Never, Marie. Never."

"It seems that the hormones emitted during pregnancy alter your ability to drain life forces, Rogue. This may be due to the fact that your body is accommodating biologically to reproduce, but whatever it may be, I know how to stimulate the hormones your body is emitting now, and with those stimulated hormones, you will be able to control your ability." Marie's eyes filled with tears, and she began to laugh. Logan pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead.

"I'm so happy for you, Rogue." Jean smiled, tears slipping down her own face as she watched the pair.

"I never thought...I never....thank you, so much...so much...it seems so simple..thank you..." Marie's hiccups as she clutched Logan were intermixed with uncontrollable happiness-filled laughter. Logan looked over Marie's head at Jean, and his smile was one she would never forget.

"You don't have anything to thank me for, Rogue. We just wish we could have saved you both sooner." Marie shook her head. "It wasn't your fault, Jean - or the Professors, or Scott's, or `Ro's. I know how much you care for me, for us. You would have come if you could."

Jean realized that she had unconsciously been carrying guilt for not finding Rogue sooner, and that Rogue and assuaged that guilt with her simple words of love.

"Thank you, Rogue. I'll leave you two alone - Scott's waiting for me. He's forcing me to get more sleep, and he said for you both to go back to bed as well." She smiled at them and walked up the stairs, happiness unfolding in her heart with each step.

The two people behind her, wrapped in each other's arms and happiness. Out of sadness, came happiness. Who could have known? - Would have known? I'm just so happy for them, for us all. No more guilt, no more sadness. Her emotional outpouring reached the others she loved, The Professor, Scott, and ‘Ro, their voices echoing in her mind as they sensed her emotional outpouring, and their answering sense of fulfillment washed over her.

---

Setting: two months later, Xavier's School for the Gifted

She looked down on Logan's face as he slept. The soft moonlight filtered through the gently blowing curtains and created feather-light patterns of light across the bed where they shared. She was so happy...she never thought that you could feel the way she did. So filled with love, no room for the sadness she had experienced when there was so much love within her...and within Logan.

She touched his cheek, sensing his nightmare-free sleep. She had learned to control the absorption of memories of feelings over the past few months. The Professor and Jean were baffled when they realized that although the hormones controlled her ability to take a person's life force, they didn't control her ability to take
person's memories and thoughts. With the Professor's help, she was slowly gaining control. She was just happy she could touch, even if it meant she could only touch the people who trusted her with their secrets, their feelings, and their thoughts. Which, to her, was a wonderful thing. She could touch the people she loved, and they could touch her. Simple human touch...it seemed to be such a shallow thing, so unnoticed until it you were cut off from it forever.

The baby kicked, and she laughed, curling a protective hand over her nine-month-swollen stomach. She and Logan had decided to wait and be surprised, to see whether it was a girl or a boy. She was sometimes filled with fear that their child, as the doctors had hoped, would turn out to be a mutant without the ability to touch others. But Jean said that even if the baby turned out to have Marie's ability, the hormone therapy could always be used.

Marie stroked Logan's cheek. Logan...the man she loved, and who loved her in return. She had never even realized that people could love each other as much as they did. They were together in every way possible. They had shared a room together since that first night, and couldn't stand to be apart. The others had all been happy for them, happy that they had each found someone who could understand them, and love them. The shock of the kidnapping and Marie's pregnancy had dulled, and the school was welcoming them back with open arms. And sometime over the past two months, they had both come to terms with their pasts, known or unknown. They were home, in all ways: Logan and Marie together, and with the people they cared for - even if Logan wouldn't admit he cared for Scott. Marie smiled as Logan protectively curled a hand around her stomach in his sleep, shifted closer to her.

She couldn't wait for the baby to come, to love it together - she knew Logan would be a wonderful father. He kissed her stomach when they were alone, and sang to the baby while she laughed. The side he showed her was one that no one else saw except her, and she, in return, bared herself to him. A blush stole over her cheeks as she thought of what else they could fully do after the baby was born, and she laughed softly to herself. They were getting married a few months after the baby was born, and she knew they wouldn't wait that long.

They were already married in their hearts, after all was said and done.

She shifted as the baby kicked again, rubbing her aching back, careful not to wake Logan up. She suddenly felt another dull pain, a bit sharper this time, and nervous anticipation rose in her. She leaned down to kiss Logan, opening their bond to share her news with him. Logan...it's time, I think... her voice soft in his head. She laughed as he immediately woke, sat straight up and sleepily blinked at her. He looked at her swollen stomach, and placed a caressing hand on her cheek. You sure? His mind full of the same nervous worry and anticipation she was filled with. She nodded, and he smiled widely, and suddenly swung her up in his arms, gently kissing her, their thoughts intermingling as they laughed and he hurried with nervous new-father worry to Jean and Scott's doorway. I love you they both thought, happiness and laughter mingling together, happiness for their new life...their new family, their love. Happiness for the rest of their lives.