He's crying.

All the years I've known him, I've only seen him cry once. Only when Jean died. So I figured only Jean could crawl so far under his skin as to make the Wolverine shed tears.

I was wrong. Cause he's sitting on the roof with a bottle of bourbon and a cigar and he's crying. He's damning God and cursing the night for looking so beautiful - and he's thinking of me.

I can hear his pleas seeping from his mind - they flow into my heart and I know every unsaid word he says. Every emotion that runs in his soul, every regret that pours from his veins. I know it all.

And it's all for me.

I settle down next to him, my bare hand rubbing comforting circles on his shirt covered back.

"Marie..."

He speaks low and raspy and I flinch away, cause I hate hearing all that pain in his voice, "I'm sorry, Logan."

He drinks straight from the bottle and lowers his head, obviously ignoring my honest apology.

I can't blame him because there's no pardoning the sin I've committed.

He asked me to stay behind, he asked me to wait for him at home, he asked me to be his steady rock - something he could cling to when everything else seemed to be descending beneath him.

And I promised I would - I promised I would be his rock.

And I failed to keep my word.

Cause I went anyway, I chased after him in battle; I sank out from beneath him just like everything else.

And in the process, I broke him.

"I needed to you stay here, Marie..."

"I know, I'm so sorry."

He wipes the tears from his eyes roughly, but it changes nothing cause they are coming to quickly to be brushed away.

"I didn't know the Sentinels would be there, Logan, I didn't know... I swear. But I'm fine now, see, I'm fine."

And I am fine, physically if not mentally.

I remember flying, as fast as my newfound power could carry me, to the basketball court - where the jet was prepping for take off. I begged him, I begged them all, to let me come along - `Please,' I said, anxiously hovering a few inches from the ground, 'I can fight, I can help.'

Scott smiled, almost proudly, and shook his head, 'Not this time, Rogue, it's too dangerous.'

I rolled my eyes, a sure sign of my immaturity, 'I've been training for four months, I can do this, I know it,' I said.

I lowered my head in defeat, oncoming tears scorching my eyes --then I felt his leather clad hands cup my cheeks lightly. I looked up and he was staring at me, his hazel eyes pleaded with me, 'Stay behind just one more time, Marie,' he said, breathing softly, 'this ones too dangerous and you're my rock, remember? I need you to stay here and wait for me.'

I shook my head, 'Okay. Okay, Logan.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise.'

But I lied. I lied right to his face. Right into his eyes.

No one noticed as I walked right into the cargo hold, no one noticed as I flew right into the battle, and no one noticed the Sentinel that knocked me one hundred feet to the ground.

But someone must have seen me, cause I woke up a week later in the MedLab. My legs, my left arm, five ribs, and my collar bone broken. Gashes all over my body, scars that would never heal.

And Logan - head resting on my stomach, his tears soaking through my hospital gown.

I look over to him and he's drank the last of the bourbon, "I don't know what else you want me to say. I can't say sorry forever, Logan. I'm fine now, all healed up. Why are you still treating me this way?" Tears are streaming down my face, but I don't care.

I stand up, a feeling of hopelessness rising from my toes to the top of my head, "I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I only want to help."

He's holding his head in the palm of his hands, his tears overflowing and running down his forearms, "I love you, Marie, I always will."

I watch in awe as he stands up, angrily throwing the empty bottle off the roof. In the distance I hear it break into a million pieces and for the first time since the accident he looks straight into my eyes – but it seems as though he's staring right through me.

The sadness in his eyes is consuming, it swallows me whole, and I gasp for breath as new tears spring to my eyes.

"I love you, too," I whisper, but his eyes don't acknowledge my confession as his own tears once again fall.

"Goodbye Marie." I'm heartbroken and confused as he turns away from me, flicking his cigar off the roof he starts walking towards the open window.

I reach my hand out timidly. "Please, Logan, don't leave me."

But as he goes by, his hand passes right through mine – and suddenly I understand everything.

His pleas and his regrets -- his eyes that looked right through mine.

And his tears, tears that once had been shed for the death of Jean --now cry for me.