It was a miserable morning, a steady rain fell, dark clouds hovered overhead, and a chilly wind blew even as I stood with the rest of the X-men and the students watching as one of our own was laid to rest.

Standing a little off to the side I didn’t even try to hide the tears. We were laying Logan to rest, the first real peace he’d had in all the years he could remember. And along with Logan we were laying to rest the foolish dreams I’d had for so long - dreams that no one knew about at all.

I know what everyone thinks, Logan was like my big brother, my burly protector. I kinda laugh at that, yes he was my protector, my friend, and my confidant but he was also the only man I wasn’t scared to touch or be touched by, the only one I’ve ever had sex with - only for us it wasn’t sex. Logan and I spent more nights making love than we did anything else, starting just after we came back from Alkali Lake - even when I was still with Bobby. In Logan I found something I will never have again, I found home!

In the last two days I’ve come to understand something. Our last mission was really our last one. See a week ago we headed south to stop the Brotherhood from destroying humankind as usual and Magneto and Sabertooth managed to get Logan. They hurt him pretty badly, but I didn’t realize how badly because I was hurt to. Had I known I would never have let him touch me, never let him heal my wounds. But I didn’t know, and in healing me Logan died. I can feel him deep within me, feel his powers, his skills reinforcing my strengths, my weaknesses.

Just last night I sat by the cold granite coffin we were gonna lay him to rest in, rubbing my knuckles, knuckles that ached to release phantom claws - at least I think they’re phantoms. The longer I sat there, the angrier I got. How could he just let go like that? How could he give up? Didn’t he realize I needed him? I loved him?

Today though my anger is in control, my mind surprisingly clear. He knew everything that was in my heart, knew how I felt about him, about his life, about his death. But it was his time, his turn to have some peace - I won’t say happiness cause I know with me he was happy but he wasn’t at peace.


I barely hear the whispers of comfort from those around me as I stand in the rain and watch as the casket is lowered into the ground. I glanced up at a calm touch on my arm into a pair of eyes as familiar as any could be.

Jean smiles sadly at me, understanding, compassion in her gaze but I’m numb. I don’t feel her pain, her understanding so I just blink and watch her walk off, back into Scott’s comforting arms. The rest of the service passes in a blur of tears and echoes in my mind before I can disappear into Logan’s bedroom.

Stepping past the door I close it, locking it securely and peel off my gloves, kicking my shoes off and standing there just sucking in air trying not to cry anymore. The smell of tobacco smoke curling around me with casual abandon, haunting me.

The Professor said I could have anything of Logan’s I wanted, whatever I don’t want or can’t use I should box up and he’ll give it away. Yeah, like that’ll ever happen. I know every item in this room, every piece of clothing, books, every button, there isn’t anything that I don’t want or can’t use.

Regardless I drag out the box he gave me and start sorting clothes. Like some mindless machine I fold and stack, fold and stack as I clean out the dresser then the closet. Everything is going into the box because I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching it.

Time crawls past as I leave the room, pad in my stocking feet to my room then return with my clothes. I’m taking Logan’s room, it still smells like him, like his cigars and aftershave and it eases my pain. Putting my clothes away I open the bedside table and freeze.

Sitting there is the opened box of condoms I bought Logan - flavored cause I hate the taste of latex, the familiar blue and white silk scarf Logan used to kiss me the morning of the last mission, and the new tags I’d given him for Christmas. Those tags had come off him in the medlab, and Jean had obviously sent someone upstairs to put them in the drawer cause I know Logan hadn’t removed them in years.

With a hand that shook I reached in and pull the thin chain out and let it dangle from my fingers even as I feel the tears welling. Feeling the rage boiling up I grab for the nearest thing and throw it.

The shatter of the lamp echoes even as I sob brokenly while I sink to the floor holding the tags to my chest. Crying until I’m exhausted I merely curl up on the floor, my breath coming in hiccupy little gasps as my eyes stare at what’s under the bed.

Slowly, so slowly my mind registers that there’s a box under there. A white cardboard box sits waiting patiently in the darkness under our bed and I shudder. With hands that tremble I reach for it and pull it out carefully. Reverently, I touch it, caress it before opening it slowly my heart in my throat.

Fresh tears gather as I stare into the shallow box. A photo album sets on top of some material and I pull it out carefully, my lips trembling, my heart pounding as I open it and stare.

Carefully I turn each page, hands tracing over pictures of my life, of Logan and our life. Who knew he was so good with a camera? I wonder as I sit there.

There are pictures from before Liberty Island, of me in class, from after he came back, of after Alkali Lake, of after Bobby and I broke up - not a surprise there, of my graduation. Each event in my life is within the pages of the album, pictures I knew he’d taken, ones I knew nothing about. Turning the page I smile, he must have snapped off a few of me sleeping if the ones I’m seeing were any indication.

There are pictures of me laughing, of me in the leather, in that silky red nighty he bought for me for our first Christmas after Alkali Lake. That nighty hadn’t lasted more than a couple of nights. Logan had ended up cutting it off me. There are so many, that I sit there laughing and crying, remembering even as my heart breaks a little more.

Softly, lovingly I whisper his name and hug the album tightly even as I realize that something has fallen out. Picking it up I blink, it’s a simple plain white envelope unmarked by ink except for the scrawl of my name. Not Rogue, not Kid, or any of the various nicknames I’ve accumulated over the years since we came to meet each other - just the simple word Marie. Setting the album down I open the letter with hands that shake.

Pulling out the folded sheet of white paper I unfold it carefully. Blinking to clear my vision I sit there in the dull grey light and stare at the familiar scroll before I start to read.

My Marie; I ain’t the mushy type but then you know that already huh! I’ve spent every day trying to think of how best to say what’s on my mind, in my heart and nothing ever comes out right. We’ve been together for so long, sometimes I have to remind myself of my life before you. No matter what Marie, I want ya to know you are the only reason I came back, the only reason I stayed. If I could manage it I’d pull you into me so tightly you’d never be alone again, but all I can do is offer you everything I am. I know it ain’t much, I can’t compete with Chuck and his geeks but I think you need to know. I’ve always loved you, always wanted you, and if it takes forever I will wait for you. Love Logan.

With a shuddery breath I smile tearfully. He didn’t have to wait forever, I think deep down in my soul he had me from that moment when his hazel eyes met mine over that bar in Canada.

Setting the letter down I lift the fabric out of the box and stare. A filmy white blouse hangs from my fingers, and a quick glance reveals a matching skirt in blue. I smile, blue and white. The colors of our lives, of our love. White for innocence lost and gained, blue for the pain we’ve faced to be together- the lives we’ve given and received.

Folding the outfit back up I frown as I notice a small jewelers box tucked away under the edge of the skirt. Pulling it out I open the lid and bite my lip. Nestled on the grey velvet is an beautifully familiar band. One I remember telling Logan in a drunken stupor that I wanted for a wedding ring someday, if I remember correctly Logan had merely smiled, kissed me softly, and whispered that if I wanted it, he’d get it for me.

Obviously he’d remembered, because I’m staring at the band through my tears. Taking it out of the box I hold it up noticing the writing on the inside with a slow frown, “My heart belongs to you Marie, love Logan,” I whisper softly turning the band carefully. Clutching it, I cling to my ring, the tags, and a memory and sob. I want his heart, but even more at this very moment I want him. I want my lover, my friend, my Wolverine. I want what was taken from me!

Surrounded by his things, by the physical reminders of a life cut short I weep convulsively, my broken heart shattering even more as I realize this is all I have left of our lives. Crying myself to sleep I lay on the hard floor, the tears drying on my face even as a familiar voice echoes in my head, the words we never spoke in life but I feel in death.

As he whispers he loves me, that he’s always gonna be here for me I realize I got a gift. He said he wanted to fold me up in him so I would never be alone, I guess in a way he did that. I’m not alone, Logan’s still with me, still watching over me - echoing in the faint heartbeat I can hear, a heartbeat that isn’t my own. Its what he left behind him, the legacy I’m always going to have, and suddenly my dreams are filled with hazel eyes filled with love and laughter, and pudgy little fingers grasping at my hair.

The end.