I fumbled for my cell phone, reaching deep into my purse. My eyes latched onto the caller ID and my heart lurched, I closed my eyes briefly. My heart sped up and my spirits sank. Every time he calls.

I knew Logan needed me, just like I knew I’d eventually answer. I also knew my heart would be broken by the time the night was over. It was the same old same old situation. I knew where he was, they’d called me already. I don’t know if it’s control over his metabolism, or his body knowing he wants to get drunk as hell, but he’s been managing it at the same bar for the last two weeks. After the first time he’d called me, I’d left them the number to reach me at whenever he came in and got too drunk. Luckily it was a mutant friendly bar.

When I slipped in the back door, Logan was entirely too drunk to notice. He’s probably completely numbed his senses. He didn’t notice me when I slipped into a table to his right, or even when the bartender used my assumed name.

“Hey Anna, he got a ride here today. Cab dropped him off. Sorry you had to come get him again, but you know how he gets.” Bert, the owner of ‘The Rodeo’ was a balding old man with a beer belly and a no nonsense attitude.

I smiled at him, sadly and nodded. “Can I get a coke?” I asked as I shoved my keys into my purse. “Put it on his tab.”

I watched him for a while, his hands moving slowly over a white sheet of paper in front of him. I knew without looking he’d been drawing Jean again. He’s very good and it always tears my heart in two different directions when I see some of his work. One way, there’s his sadness and loss and guilt and grief over loosing Jean. The other way there’s all the sadness, heartache and loss I feel over loosing him. I know he’ll never come back to us. It’s just the way it is. I don’t have a miracle drug to pull him back from the edge, just newly touchable hands and skin that he doesn’t even seem to notice. The mournful country music floating out of the jukebox seems to fit everyone’s mood.

When he wasn’t caressing the paper in front of him, he had his hands wrapped around a bottle of whiskey. Bert says it’s his third, so I know he’ll be pretty drunk for a while. He pulled out his cell phone, and dialed. This time it’s a text, but I know the words are the same ones left on my unopened voicemail. “Baby, I love you. Please, come.”

He still doesn’t know I’m here, and his words of love do more to break me down a little further and send me spiraling into depression than they do to convince me to come help him. But I’m already here, so who I am I kidding. I knew he didn’t mean it, but it’s all I got so I pathetically took it to heart.

He’s close to finished tearing himself up for the night, the bottle down to the last quarter mark. He alternated between drinking, looking at Jean’s portrait, and flipping open his phone only to close it before actually doing anything.

Another 15 minutes passed with the same repetitive motions and Bert called out ‘Closing time, last call for alcohol’. Logan looked at his bottle, then Jean, then the phone and flipped it open again. He started pushing buttons and I knew that it was time to put him out of his misery.

When I got two feet from him is when he finally noticed my presence in the bar, and quickly folded up the paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket. I’d gotten a glimpse of it before it was out of sight, and something was wrong, the profile wasn’t right. He took a long pull from what was left of the whiskey before turning to me.

“Baby” he slurred, leaning toward me. I slipped an arm around his shoulder, doing all I could to keep his 360 pound adamantium frame on the barstool while I reached into the other pocket for his wallet. I pulled out his cash and paid the tab, leaving a good tip for them having had the thoughtfulness to call me.

I help him stand, thankful for my continued training in the Danger Room and with the Junior X-men. So I could be there in a pinch if they needed me. With Kitty finding out she was pregnant, and Logan a little unreliable these days, I’d had to fill in a few times. I felt another spasm of heartache when I thought of Bobby and Kitty. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I’d taken the cure myself, not for Bobby. But I think it hurt me even more for him to break up with me when he had the option of touching than it would have if he hadn’t.

My attention is ripped back to my present situation because Logan lurched into me and I had to concentrate to be kept from being thrown off balance. We were getting random looks from people in the paring lot and I ignored them, silently telling them all to mind their own business. I managed to retrieve my keys and open the door to my Jeep before I lost my grip.

He helped get himself up into the Jeep by grabbing and pulling with his hands, and pushing off with his feet. I’m glad the roll bars are made of whatever they’re made of, because they’re strong and don’t bend under Logan’s weight. He grumbled a bit when I buckled him in, but I ignored it.

I didn’t know whether or not he wanted to go to the mansion or to my apartment, but since I didn’t feel like dealing with the 20 million questions about Logan and how he’s doing and how I’m doing that I always get when I bring him home late and night like this, I opted for my apartment. He could deal.

I sighed and looked at the sleeping Logan that I somehow had to get from the passenger side of my Jeep to my apartment. That involved two flights of stairs. I got out and walked around to his side. My scent was all around him and usually that made it safe for me to wake him, but he was drunk and that always made me wary.

“Logan.” I called, out of range of swinging distance. He stirred a bit and I called out again, a little louder. That got me a mumbled ‘Marie?’ so I deemed it safe and moved closer.

“Come on Logan, I can’t get you out and up the stairs on my own power, I need your help.” I’d kept my voice in soothing but forceful tones the whole time I’d been speaking. Opening the door while his attention was on me and what I was doing. His golden eyes opened a little, and he growled slightly. I let out a low sigh.

He wasn’t moving so my tune turned pleading. “Please.” I said as I reached over to unbuckle him, releasing the belt and grabbing his hand. Sometimes I forget that the tiniest thing can send Logan over a couple of different ledges, depending on what it is. For instance, using the last word that Jean said to Logan right before he killed her, always made him angry sad and ready to kill something all at the same time. So each reaction you got was always different and never predictable. This time was no different.

He quickly grabbed the hand that was reaching for his and jerked me toward him. He buried his face in my neck and growled a low painful noise into my skin. He knew instinctually that I was safe now but he never thought about the sensitivity of my skin. So the feel of his breath, the stubble on his chin, and the soft movement of his lips all combined to create a shiver that started at my toes and worked all the way up my body, making a pit stop in my lower regions and my breasts. All a reaction that was truly unintended on both our parts. He never even noticed.

“I’m sorry, Logan.” I wrapped my arms around him and just held him for a second. “Come on.” He complied and it turned out his healing had kicked in enough that he was able to walk fairly steadily up the steps and wait for me to open the door. He was tired as hell though, I’m assuming from putting his healing off or whatever he does. Plus, it’s really late. I guide him into my bedroom and plop him down on the bed. I’ve only got a loveseat and there’s no way either one of us will fit.

I help him with his boots and clothes, leaving him in boxers and tucking him under the blankets. He’s out in minutes. I head into the kitchen, grab a bottle of water and then into the bathroom. I’m way too tired for a shower right now, so I brushed my teeth and changed into shorts and a camisole top before climbing into bed. There was that moment of fear when he snuggled up behind me. An involuntary knee jerk reaction of having that much of my skin being touched all at once. I’m quickly over it and settling into that happy place I always find myself in when someone I love is touching me. It never matters if it’s just Jubilee touching my hand, or ‘Ro wrapping me in a tight hug, or Logan brushing hair off of my cheek. Although I’m fairly partial to his arms around me, his fingers brushing the skin at my waist, and my cheek against his neck; but being spooned with a heavy arm draped over me and his face snuggled into my neck is by far the best away to fall asleep.

I woke up to his hands roaming over my sides, and his teeth nibbling on my earlobe. He was half asleep I could tell, but when my name fell from his lips I couldn’t have cared less about his state of wakefulness. He moved half on top of me, rolling me onto my back in the process. His lips found the skin above my breasts, and he kissed them nuzzling my cleavage as my hands moved up into his hair.

It couldn’t have been that long since I’d went to sleep, but I could tell the alcohol has worn out of his system by the light in his eyes. I could also tell that was the exact moment he’d become completely awake. He’d finished with my breasts and was nuzzling my neck again; his hands had quit their roaming and settled on either side of me. Left hand by my shoulder, right hand hovering near my hip, his knee was nudging mine apart and he was awake enough to seek approval. He looked down at me, and I saw him realize what he was doing.

I knew immediately what he was about to do. It would have be bad enough for me in the morning, to know he came to me for some need he couldn’t meet alone, but I couldn’t let him deny me this. I wanted more than just almost’s and barely’s for the rest of my life. If one night with the man I loved was all I was going to get, then I would take it.

I was already writhing with need and flushed from his attentions, and I’m sure I was reeking lust and desire and want all over him. A pleading look in my eyes combined with his name moaned through my lips had him tossing caution to the wind and kissing me. Every touch of his fingertips and each brush of his lips were like setting fire to kindling, I burned all over for him. He set my blood on fire and did his best to quench the flames. He was hard and fast and soft and slow all at once, everywhere with his hands and mouth, sending me shooting through the sky.

Hours later, sated, tired, sore, and complete with Logan asleep on my bed, and me locked in the bathroom I cried for what will never be. Afterward, when I was boneless and shamed, I crawled into bed and pretended everything would be sunshine and roses in the morning. It didn’t help any when Logan wrapped his arms around me and growled low and deep.

Logan was up and drinking coffee at my kitchen table when I crawled out of bed. Neither of us spoke. It was awkward and clumsy and I wanted to get everything out in the open, so he could make some kinda off hand remark and everything would be ok again and we could pretend we were just friends and hadn’t crossed into forbidden territory last night. I absently wondered if he smelt the shame rolling off of me. I wondered what our mixed scent smelled like, and felt a twinge of pain in my heart at the thought. I can’t stay here. I thought suddenly. This is only gonna end one way, and I know it’s not the way that’s gonna enable me to carry on like I need to. Not when I’m looking at him everyday.

He beat me to it. “I’ve got a cab on the way. Thanks-” he stopped seemingly at a loss for words. “Thanks for last night, for… everything.” I couldn’t help the blush that stole across my cheeks, I wondered if he’d realized he was my first. “Look, I just need some time Marie. Time to clear out my mind, a little time to be me and deal. After that…” He trailed off.

A horn honked outside and I was glad, because I didn’t have the heart to listen to him tell me that after that he’d be leaving. He stood, and walked over to me. Wrapped me in a tight hug and brushed a kiss across my mouth. “Marie…” The horn blared again and I prayed he couldn’t tell there were tears waiting to be released from my eyes.

“Go on, Logan.” I smiled my brightest smile at him. “They’ll leave without you.” He looked at me for a few more seconds before turning to go. He left his coat.

When the cab was completely out of sight, I started packing. Throwing everything I could, clothes, snacks, toiletries, everything I’d need into my suitcases and duffel bags. I loaded my Jeep and ran back upstairs to check for everything that was important to me. I penned a note for my landlord, telling him to keep the deposit and please make sure the rest of my things went to Xavier’s Institute. Then I wrote a letter to the Professor.

I told him I needed to go away; there were things I had to deal with. I didn’t know how long I’d be gone, or if I’d come back. I thanked him for everything and told him to give everyone my love. I told him to give Kitty and Bobby my best wishes and to tell Logan ‘Thank You’. I also asked him to wait a week before delivering my news. I put a stamp on the envelope and stuck it in the mailbox on my way to the bank. I grabbed his leather jacket off of the loveseat.

I emptied my savings and checking accounts, $8,173.52 total. It was enough. I got in the Jeep and drove, hoping the road and the radio would help me where I couldn’t help myself.

Title: Space Hurts
Series: Last Call

Rating: PG 13
Verse: Post X3
Summary: When Logan turns to Marie, things go differently than expected.
Genre: Angst, Drama
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men, Marvel does.
Author's Note: Back by popular Demand, this is the second part.

The phone calls started two days later. First it was a text. Jubes wanting to know why I’d missed training the day before. Then Kitty asking if I was ok, she still didn’t get it. Storm called too, she was worried. She always knows when Logan’s gone out to drown himself; she also knows that it’s me he calls later. She asked me what had happened that night, but she hates talking to machines so she didn’t say anything else. Storm told me once that it’s not that Logan really loved Jean, it’s that she cared for him and he’d never had a lot of that before. And that he cared a lot for her and it really tore him up inside to do what he had to do.

I’m not really sure I believe that. I think he loved Jean, but I don’t think he knew how much or what kind of love it was. He knew she’d never be his, and I think that hurt him too. It hurt me that he never realized that I loved him the way he wanted her to.

It kinda brought me full circle later that night, when I was huddled under the covers in the hotel room, the rain beating on the window panes, my food half eaten on the table. I couldn’t remember having been that miserable. As hard as it was to do, I’d run. It hurt so much then and now, but I’d had to, it was like saving face.

Then the phone rang.

His name flashed across the tiny screen and I got that same flying-sinking feeling complete with a faster heart rate and quicker breathing… I didn’t answer. I can’t. I buried my head under the blankets and tuned out the noise. I fought back the tears.

I should have known that people would start asking questions sooner or later, I’d just hoped that later would have been after the week was up. I was shaking when I realized it had only been about three days, and that Logan could catch up with me if I knew where I was. I don’t think he can find me, and I definitely can’t face him right now. I turned off the phone.

My mind wandered to Cerebro and the fact that I never thought to ask the Professor how easy it is to track mutants who’ve had the cure. Hopefully it’s hard.

My eyes drifted closed and I gave myself a stern lecture about him having needed space and saving myself heartache. He thinks he doesn’t need anyone, and I’m doing the best thing by disappearing. It doesn’t work and I’m clutching his jacket, so instead I fall into a painful dream land.

I jerked awake, tears streaming down my face from an alternate reality that I knew would never work. I’m haunted with flashes and images of my dreams while I dress and gather my things wanting to be on the road. I’m not sure if the need to run to Canada is a leftover little part of the personalities that got wiped clean with the cure, or if I’d just run back to a place that reminded me of him, but either way that’s where I was.

Maybe a part of me ran there because if he tried to find me, he’d know Canada better. I don’t know. I got a throw away cell phone at the next Wal-Mart I saw, turned on my X-Cell long enough to write down all the numbers, then I turned it off and threw it in a nearby lake. I wanted to be across the country, unable to be found, but I couldn’t go further toward Alaska, he’d know.

Two weeks into my running, I started making loops. One night at a diner, a short squat woman with comfy tennis shoes and graying blond hair took my order. I’d been thinking about looking for apartments in the area. Before I got the chance to ask her about nearby openings, she dropped a bomb in my lap.

“You know, there was a man in here looking for you a couple of days ago.” I froze, my fingers trailing over the menu, my mouth slightly open. My heart literally skipped a beat. Immediately I started mentally remapping my route.

“Really?” I asked, trying to sound confused. It probably worked, what with my heart flopping around in my stomach and brain trying to wrap around the fact that he was looking for me.

“Yeah, I know it was you ‘cause he mentioned them streaks of yours. Mighty handsome too. And manly, wish I had me a handsome guy like that chasing me across here and there.” She replied with a knowing glance. “He do something to ya?” She asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to sound annoyed. That probably didn’t work. “What did this guy look like?”

She sent me another contemplative look before speaking. “Black hair, wild unruly, the kind that does what it wants. His eyes were this pretty shade of golden amber, made me think that if he really wanted to he could charm the habit off a nun. Little bit of a beard, needs a shave probably. On a bike, a nice fast one.”

I soaked up all of her description, pathetic in my need to hear about him, even from a complete stranger. Then I swallowed a drink of coffee around the lump in my throat. “I’ll keep an eye out.” I ordered then my food then, and scarfed down everything on my plate when she brought it, getting a cup of coffee to go.

I drove to the grocery, buying enough to last me a week in the Jeep. I stopped at the supply store and bought a high end sleeping bag and a bunch of those little heat packs. Logan was chasing me and asking questions, not two weeks ago I’d been hoping he’d come after me, and here I was, planning on lasting a week in the jeep so no one could get a look at me. I bought three gas cans and some brunette hair dye. The dye didn’t stick, and I thought about cutting them out. Instead I opted for always wearing a hat.

When I finally took off, It was with three gas cans full, a filled tank, and enough groceries to last me for weeks. I hoped no one saw me.

That night I pulled off the road and deep into the woods. The tarp was already up over the roll bars, so I checked all the windows and buckles. I ate a late dinner of canned tuna, crackers, and water and climbed into the cocoon I’d made of my new sleeping bag, pillows, and blankets when I’d pulled over for lunch.

Another stern lecture and one ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ later and I was asleep. The dreams came again.

It was a week and 4 towns later that I noticed it for the first time. I’d taken to wearing gloves because I was so cold all the time, my body temperature going wonky at all hours of the day. I was sitting under a tree at a bench eating a sandwich and reading. I hadn’t heard from anyone that Logan was looking for me still, so I took a break. I spent the whole day in town, enjoying the sights and peacefulness during a lull in my ever developing depression.

I’d taken off my gloves, and was on my second sandwich when my fingers started to tingle. Nothing huge, I told myself. Nothing big. It’s just cold out here. I was getting sleepy too, so I figured a nap in the warm bed would solve both problems. I’d heard of the cure wearing off for some people, people whose powers were so strong, too strong; but the Professor hadn’t thought I was at risk, so I refused to think of it.

I’d woken up two hours later, starving and still tired. My fingers weren’t tingly anymore and I was relieved. I slipped into Logan’s jacket and headed out to the diner. Another waitress, skinny and redheaded sent a shot of pain through me when she smiled a serene smile and asked in low soothing tones what I wanted. I ordered my salad and tried to fight back the wall of depression that was weighing down on me. It had been a mistake to wear his coat today. The smell of him filled my head and I remembered that night, him drunk and in pain over killing Jean, and then I remembered what happened later.

The tears were silently spilling down my cheeks when the redhead brought my food over. “You okay, sweetheart?” I nodded and mumbled thanks before diving fork first into my food. She took the hint and left. I tried not to look at her anymore, because if I squinted, I could see green eyes and high cheek bones under pretty porcelain skin. I paid my bill and took my coke back to my hotel.

The serene quite soothing outdoors held no comfort for me now that I’d descended back into my depression. I showered under the hottest water I could stand, and tried to scrub the pain away. It never seemed to work. I cried into the spray of water, so I wouldn’t have to admit to myself how much it hurt.

I toweled off and dressed, not willing for a repeat performance of me breaking down in yet another bathroom. I packed everything back into my suitcase in preparation for leaving. When I was in this kind of mood, driving helped. The only thing that can get me calm enough to sleep is the faint scent of Logan that clings to his jacket. But that brings back the dreams and the torment is worse the next day. Besides, it’s wearing off. My heart breaks a little more.

I figured that I might as well use it while I can and grabbed the jacket from where it lay; I buried my face in the satin lining and waited for the torment of the dreams to come.

It’s a repeat performance of that night. Everything’s burning and he brings me to the brink and lets my orgasm spill over me. Then he does it again. Instead of heading into the bathroom for a good long cry (which part of me knows is what really happened), I lay in my bed surrounded by Logan. We stay that way until the morning and he’s drinking coffee again at the kitchen table.

I don’t wait for him to speak this time, instead all the love and want and need that I have for him tumbles out of my mouth and lands at my feet and I stare at him waiting for an answer, some kind of answer.

Instead of leaving in a cab, he lets the horn honk away while he confesses his love and need for me. (Part of me knows its childish fantasy, even my dreams can’t be left in peace.) He kisses me then, and carries be back to the bedroom.

I was jerked awake by the sound of a loud motorcycle engine, and I lay frozen in my bed for a split second before I jumped up and peered with my tear stained face through the glass. It’s him. He hadn’t seen me, and I jerked back from the window. My knees were weak, and my stomach was churning. My heart was racing and I was fighting for each intake of breath. He must have been moving to fast, or maybe the wind had carried my scent away, but either way I waited until the engine’s noises were gone and then I waited until fifteen more minutes had passed before I moved to change my clothes.

I had gathered all my things and I pulled on his jacket again. With the gloves pulled on tight, and the hat pulled down low, I tossed everything into passenger seat as I slid in, I can organize it later. I don’t know if he heard the engine, or caught a faint trace of my scent, but I saw him step out of his room as I tore down the road.

It was three doors down from mine, and I found myself torn between glad and sad that I’d traded my old red Jeep and one thousand dollars for a newer green one. The image of him standing there is burned into my brain; I was sure I’d only to blink to see him in vivid detail again.

He had bare feet and a bare chest. His long legs were encased in tight jeans and an unlit cigar hung from his right hand. His dark hair was wild and unruly, and he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping. The moonlight shone off each sharp plane and every hard muscle exposed to the cold night air. He looked like home. It was harder that I thought it would be to run, and I once gain I found myself questioning my reasoning. Why?

I tried to get my breathing to calm back down, as I turned in random directions down each different road I came across. I tried to keep mental track of where I was going, not wanting to end up back where I left him. Standing there in the cold, looking lost and confused and in as much pain as I was in. Why? I questioned myself again.

I mentally calculated how much food I had. It would more than likely be enough, and when I ran out I would just find another small town and use the grocery and gas station. I’d taken to keeping the gas cans full, so that wasn’t a problem. I wondered how he’d found me, because I’d been being so careful. I wondered if he could catch random traces of my scent on the air, and resolved to drive with the windows up.

I knew he’d catch me sometime, but I didn’t know when.

When I was thoroughly lost, I pulled over and parked in the trees. My fingers were tingly as I pulled off my gloves and rearranged the inside of my Jeep, forming my previous cocoon. I slipped off my shoes and rubbed my hands together. I crawled in and settled down to sleep. In my squirming to get comfortable, I heard the slightest muffled crinkle, but was too tired to investigate.

I begged the moon to keep the dreams away.

Title: The Saddest Revelation
Series: Last Call

Rating: PG 13
Verse: Post X3
Summary: Marie figures some things out.
Genre: Angst, Shipper
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men, Marvel does.

The moon didn’t live up to my high expectations. The dreams had been different but ever present; this time revolving around possibilities and Logan in the moonlight. I woke with a start, my was breathing labored and my heart was pounding. The feeling was so familiar I expected to see the phone ring and Logan’s number to pop up on the screen. It didn’t, of course, and I crawled out of my cocoon and grabbed a bottle of water to take care of the mornings necessities. I ate some fruit and was driving within the half hour.

I didn’t stop in any towns I passed, just ran straight through eating on the road and using up my gas reserves until I felt if I didn’t get gas I would run out before the next opportunity came around. It was three days later. The newer Jeep is much better on gas. I stopped only long enough to fill my tank and gas cans, and grab some more water and food before hitting the road again.

I’d broken down every night since I saw him, and tonight was exactly the same. It’s a week ago today I saw him, and I can’t control myself anymore. It seemed as if the running got to me, and now I’m pullover on the side of the road, I’ve tried to nap, but I couldn’t so now I’m resting. Weariness is setting in; my body is accustomed to more activity, and the emotional drain is too much.

I heard the crinkle again, and I wasn’t getting any sleep so I dug around in the pockets of his jacket. I wore it all the time now. I found it in the left inside pocket, my fingers realized what I was holding before my brain wrapped around it. Folded in quarters, was the drawing of Jean from that night. I’d completely forgotten he’d had one on him, and as I opened the up page I braced myself for the inevitable ripping of my heart in two. Twin emotions of excruciating sadness, so alike yet so different.

My eyes adjusted, and settled on the long smooth lines, I hadn’t realized he drew with charcoal. It was a contrast of shadows and rays of light. She was turned toward a left, half cast in darkness looking forlorn and elated at the same time. Pain shot through my heart, acute in every little detail of the drawing. It was smudged in places, where his fingers had caressed the face, but it was obvious that when he was finished drawing he’d treated it with something to keep the charcoal perfect.

I recognized the setting; it was a bench near the pond on Xavier’s land. It was probably dusk; the trees were in the same type of light arrangement as the figure. I knew the place well. He must have drawn it from memory, because I didn’t think he’d been out there for months, I knew I hadn’t.

Tears were streaming down my face before I’d managed to do anything but breathe one sharp intake of breath. I moved the paper quickly to avoid wetting it with my streaming tears, my heart was beating rapidly. The sobs met my ears and it took me a moment of shock to realize they were coming from me. I couldn’t form coherent thought for some time. It’s very much the same feeling I was expecting. My heart was torn in two, but instead of different types of pain they were exactly alike. One huge pool of despair and fear, complete and utter shame and regret.

I was looking at a drawing of myself.

I awoke with a start and feared a horrible heart rending nightmare. I looked again at the page in my hand and realized with another choked sob that I had cried myself to sleep. I knew I needed to get back on the road, so I took a few minutes to calm down. Attempting some of the meditation that Logan had taught me. After a few more renewed sobs, I managed to calm down enough to drive.

I rolled the windows down and drove slower than the limit. I stopped and bought something minor but memorable at every possible stop between me and the next town. First it was a pair of shiny purple gloves at small gas station. Then it was an opaque forest green scarf at a general store. I went into a bar and bought a glass of milk. I stopped at a strip joint and had a cheeseburger.

I went to every place of business in the first town I came to. I went to the gas station and filled the Jeep, I went to the general store and bought a pretty blouse. I stopped at the diner and got a milkshake, and some sandwiches. Even spent some time at the park eating those sandwiches. I spoke to as many people as possible; trying to leave a trail so wide even an elephant couldn’t miss it. They didn’t have a hotel, so I had to move on.

When I arrived at the first town with a hotel, again with the same stopping and buying routine, it was with a fearful and heavy heart. I was elated and mournful at the same time. I’ll bet I was replica of the drawing I had flattened out and placed between the pages of the Road Atlas. I went to the general store and bought a large envelope, slipping the picture inside it. My fingers shook as I checked into the hotel. I asked the man for an extra key. When he gave it to me I slid it into the envelope and sealed it.

“It there anything else you need miss?” For the past 4 weeks I had been barely speaking to anyone, living out of my jeep and alone in my head. I still started every time someone directed conversation at me. 

I looked into his eyes for a second before replying. “Yeah, I’ll be expecting company. When a man named Logan comes asking for something at the front desk, give him this. Also, I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. Until he gets here I guess.” I darted a look around, suddenly uncomfortable; fear, worry, and confusion slipping its fingers around my heart.

He studied me for a second, before speaking. “There will be an extra fee if someone is staying in the room.”

“Fine, but I don’t know when he’ll be here, so... Just charge it when he gets here, ok?” I was edgy; I needed a bath and some tea to calm my nerves. He nodded at that and made a notation on the appointment planner laid out in front of him.

“Well, you’re all set. I’ve made a note of that. You can reach your room by…” he told me how to get to my room, and I was thankful to again have a bottom floor room with a parking space right in front. I made quick work of bringing my things inside, and dug out a small box of tea. I heated some water in the microwave and sipped it while I filled the drawers with my things.

An hour later, I was freshly washed, all my things were put away, and I was considerably calmer. I didn’t cry under the cover of the water. I dressed and found my way to the diner, it wasn’t until I was seated and being waited on until I realized I was back in the town with the redheaded waitress. I must have really gotten turned around. I hadn’t seen her, so she must not have been working. 

A black haired waitress I remembered from my previous visit brought me a Turkey Club and a tall glass of soda; I tried to pull her into conversation when she came back around to check to make sure I had everything I needed. “Were you working here about a week and a half ago, when a dark haired guy came through on a motorcycle?”

She tilted her head to the side, thinking over what I’d asked for a few seconds. “I think I know who you’re talking about. Dark hair, pretty eyes, needs a shave, really handsome in that heartbroken walking pain kinda way?”

I visibly flinched at her words. “Yeah, that’s him. Did he stick around?”

She eyed me carefully, before answering. “For a bit yeah, he came in and had a big lunch. Then took off on that bike. Looks like he’s been on the road a bit. So do you, for that matter, you all running from each other?”

I sighed and got a little more heartbroken at the pain I’d caused him. My eyes were downcast, staring into my French Fries while I answered. “Were. Now I’m waiting for him to catch up.” She nodded then, and walked away. I finished my food and went back to the hotel. It was late, and I needed sleep.

When I got back to my room I flipped open the throw away cell I had bought and typed out a text to Logan. It was simple and to the point. I knew it was pointless for me to try to find him, I had to wait it out. He’d figure out where I was. I typed out my message.

“You did smell me that night. I did drive off like a bat out of hell. Come back to that hotel. Go to the check in desk. There’s something there for you. After that, Room 105.”

I went to sleep clinging to his jacket that night, and the next two nights.

I had been slipping a little deeper into despair for the last two days. I hadn’t thought I’d done that well of a job of loosing him. Maybe he didn’t have his X-Cell on him. Maybe he did and he didn’t care. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe my huge mistake had altered everything. Maybe he didn’t want me anymore.

My mind was reeling from all the horrible possibilities as I drifted into sleep.

I was brought fully awake by something metallic and suddenly the jiggling of the door lock had my attention. Someone was using a ring of keys to try to open the door. It couldn’t be Logan, he would only have the choice of one key. I racked my brain to try to remember who I’d spoken too this afternoon when I’d renewed the room and checked on Logan’s package.

I grabbed the jacket and pulled it on, took hold of the baseball bat I’d kept in my Jeep for self defense which had been recently relocated to under the blankets directly behind me, and slipped off the mattress. My bare feet made no sound as I tiptoed across the carpet. I immediately regretted wearing a nightgown to bed instead of sleep pants. It wasn’t until I was safely locked in the bathroom, that I remembered who’d been at the desk that afternoon.

It was the same man who’d checked me in days ago. Which meant someone else was at the desk. I was so scared when I heard the room door open that I could barely grasp the bat when I climbed backward into the tub. I heard the angry exclamation and the grumbling when whoever it was realized I wasn’t in the room, and I heard him walk heavily toward the bathroom door and shook the handle. My heart skyrocketed into the stratosphere because I knew the lock on this door was nowhere near a sturdy as the one on the main door.

He could easily have broken the lock, but apparently he had a key for that too. When the door opened I swung the bat at him, and he easily caught it in his hand and tossed it behind him, into the darkened room. I screamed.

As hard as I fought the fear it began to overwhelm me. The state of my already battered emotions sent me over the edge and into sheer paranoia. I fought and kicked and screamed and hoped like hell that someone would hear me. I landed a really good kick to his groin, which bought me the thrilling pleasure of being backhanded into the rim of the sink. The world went black.

A hazy flash of the past three years since I’d known Logan flashed across my closed eyelids. Suddenly his scent was overpowering, and I couldn’t control the tearing sobs that crashed though my body. I sank further into his jacket and begged for the world to swallow me whole. I couldn’t wake up into another nightmare, and I didn’t want to be in this exquisitely painful dream any longer.

“Shhh, baby. It’s ok.” My heart flew into overdrive and my eyes snapped open. I couldn’t believe he was here, here with me. And I wasn’t in some horrible nightmare. I looked up into his golden eyes and when I finally, finally, allowed myself to really believe what was going on, I went from lying meekly in his arms to launching at him, my arms wrapping around his neck.

I tried speaking, but the sobs weren’t helping anything and it was a mumbled jumble of apologies and pleads and thankfulness. I sobbed into his neck and cried all over his shoulder for a good five minutes before I as managed to calm down enough to speak. He was an ever calming presence the entire time, rubbing my back and murmuring into my ear.

“You smell so good,” I whispered at him. “I’ve missed it so much. You coat barely smells like you anymore. It’s just really faint right here at the collar. Mostly it smells like me now.” I snuggled deeper into his embrace and gripped him tightly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know, I thought…”

“Shhh… sleep. You need it right now. It’s been a rough night.” He pulled the jacket off of me and pulled the blankets over us. His voice settled like velvet over me, smooth and soft, and little gruff. I drifted into sleep, but right before I settled into the quiet protection of Logan’s arms, I jerked awake.

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice quivering. I had been in the middle of dreamland and wakefulness when I remembered in vivid detail my attacker. “The clerk” I nearly shouted frantic, “Logan, where did he go, is he coming back?”

He growled low and soft. It was like a purr very soothing, and his hands roamed over me, calming me down considerably. “The police took him away. I knocked him out, and someone had already called the police because of your screaming. Or he’d be dead. I had just opened the package you left for me at the front desk when I heard you. I dropped everything and ran here. You got him good, and had just hit the floor when I got here.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. Then he brushed his lips over my eyelids and I settled back down on his chest. I took in the sound of his heart beat, loud and clear, and wished we’d be able to work everything out.

“We’ll have to go down to the station tomorrow for a bit, don’t worry about that now. Sleep.” I did. Luckily I wouldn’t have to worry about nightmares, but I did wonder why my head didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should.  

Title: Piles of Worries

Series: Last Call

Rating: PG 13
Verse: Post X3
Summary: Suddenly things take a different turn, and emotions need to be carefully handled.
Genre: Angst, Shipper
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men, Marvel does.
Author's Note: Here is Chapter 4, tell me what you think is going to happen next, and how you think everything is going so far! Thanks to my beta Meg who saved part of this that was all kids of wonky!

 

So much for not having to worry about nightmare. Apparently even the in-the-flesh scent of Logan can’t keep them away. If you have to put dreams on a scale of one to ten, one being the kind that causes you heart to ache, and ten being the kind that causes you to fear for you life and think they’re real, these would have been an eight. They were nightmares of Logan leaving, nightmares of being attacked, of what could’ve been if Logan hadn’t shown up. Lots of flashes of lots of memories. For once in a long time I’ve had a nightmare that I can’t blame on someone else. I still do have the other sometimes, but I think I’ve just had them for so long now that they’re mine.

I shot up in bed with a scream in my throat and already crying. My chest heaved but I couldn’t catch my breath. The tears created hot tracks down my cheeks and suddenly Logan was there, hands on my back, caressing. I breathed him in like the elixir of life and it calmed me a little bit. In retrospect it’s just bit worse than the heartache I’ve woken up with for the last month and a half. I had started to calm down so I pulled back from him a bit, releasing his white t-shirt from where I can’t remember having gripped it. I smoothed out the wrinkles.

“Nightmare?” He asked, looking down at me. I avoided his gaze and chose not to answer. “Hey, look at me,” the softly spoken words weakened my resolve and I let him turn my face up to his. It’s a little weird having the old Logan back after so long, I missed him so. I took a shaky breath and right at him; his golden eyes shined down into mine. He was concerned.

“Nightmare.”

“Shit, whose?” he asked me, the traditional fear that he’d managed to upset me after so long. I answered as honestly as I know how. 

“Mine, believe me, these are all mine.” I’m so shamed I can practically smell it. He must have, because he brought his arms around me and pulled me in tight.

“You weren’t in bed.” I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. I go from running to needy in seconds flat. Here we go rollercoaster of emotions. Maybe I should eat some chocolate.

“No, I was afraid.” His gaze flickered nearly unnoticeably down to his hands and I reached out for one and gave the much abused skin some extra lovin’.

“You didn’t hurt me… before.” I couldn’t even talk of ‘The Great Sin’. It still felt like the world was going to come tumbling down around my ears. I wanted to be happy in spite of everything that we had yet to accomplish, but I couldn’t. That time had passed while I’d been unconscious last night and I couldn’t appreciate it. I didn’t look forward to inspecting the damage, although I’d known Logan had to have done it the night before.

“I didn’t want to take any chances. I was pretty keyed up last night.” The tone of his voice was confusing, I couldn’t untangle the anger, shame, fear, and acute ferity from each other. I considered that for a moment, before lying back down and dragging him with me. He held me for a few minutes while I debated which subject to broach first.

 “We have to talk.” I wondered how loud my Speedy Gonzales heartbeat sounded. It must have been reminiscent of a hummingbird.

“We do, but first we should eat, and then go to the police station, then get your head checked out.” He extracted himself from the bed and crossed to the table. “I’ve showered already. I’ll go to the diner and get food, you shower and eat.” He picked up his jacket from where it lay on the floor next to the bed, and brought it up to his face, taking a deep testing breath before pulling it on. I steeled myself to go back into the bathroom. It took several minutes and by then he was already gone.

My arms and face were tingling when I turned on the water.

I showered, and shaved and brushed my teeth. I brought my comb gingerly through my hair but couldn’t find the spot where Logan said I’d hit my head. I dressed in a pair of jeans and a tank top. A long sleeve shirt, zip up hoodie, and my coat waited patiently for me to brave the cold. I was slipping my black boots onto my feet when Logan came back in. There used to be something secure in the idea of room with actual keys. Now I just wanted out. I said so.

“As soon as the police say ok, we’re gone, baby. I looked at the Jeep, and I can tie my bike to the back.” I nodded and dug into the eggs and bacon and every imaginable bit of breakfast food you can fit into a diner carry out box.

Afterward, when the food was gone and the mess cleaned up, Logan and I prepared to go to the police station. It was nice to pretend every thing was perfect, that my little dream had come true. But I was an adult now, and it was time to put away childish thing. Things like dreams of happily ever after because my arms were tingling again.

Despite every cell of my body wanting to pretend everything was ok, I realized that I had to broach the subject of ‘The Great Sin’. “Logan,” his golden eyes came up to meet mine, and my heart nearly broke at the smile in them. I had caused him so much pain. I had caused myself so much pain. “That night,” he cut me off.

“Later.” His tone told me he’d brook no argument. “Now, let me look at your head again. I want to check that bump.”

He didn’t look at me oddly when I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, just in case, and made my way over to him. I wasn’t sure what had pushed me to be afraid of my skin all over again, I’d told myself that the cure couldn’t be failing. Not me. Not now. I settled on the floor between his legs, My cheek rested on his thigh, the thin carpet did nothing to cushion the floor under my knees.

I managed not to flinch when he touched me. His fingers probed my scalp running lightly through my hair. I heard him take a long sniff. Testing my scent.

“Marie,” he started.

“It’s gone isn’t it?”

“Marie, how,” he was concerned and confused. I couldn’t blame him I was too.

“When I took a shower, I couldn’t find it. I brushed my hair, and there was no tenderness. I don’t have any kind of headache. Logan, how bad was it?”

“You should still have an ugly bump Marie.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, as he thought. I didn’t want to let them fall, so tried to hold my emotions in check. He stroked my hair, looking across the room at the table. “Are you sure you could still smell me on the coat?”

Confusion had the same effect as a splash of water. “Yes,” I started indignantly. “I’ve been sleeping with it every night, I’m definitely sure it still smelled like you.” His eyes took on this haunted expression for a moment and I realized the impact my words had. When I started to broach the subject again, he brushed me off.

“Think really hard Marie, you’re sure.” I told him I was, and he thought for a few more seconds before going on. “Marie, I could barely smell anything but you on that coat. My scent markers were almost completely gone.” I couldn’t wrap my brain around what he was trying to say. “Listen, what do you hear?”

I was still completely lost, but I tried to concentrate on his words. “Cars, people, birds, woods. Normal small town stuff.” I was confused, irritated, and wished my hands and arms would stop tingling. “Logan, I don’t understand.” He was still staring at me when I growled.

My hand clamped over my mouth and took a step backward, which brought me into contact with the bad and made me fall backward onto my ass on the blankets. I grabbed the hoodie and pulled it over my head, and slid on a pair of gloves. Logan must not have been prepared for my reaction because I also had my coat on and both items zipped before he made it to my side. I pulled both hoods over my head, the black fake fur from my coat obscuring my vision slightly.

“Marie, no.” He reached for my hands, and I jerked back, scrambling backwards across the bed. I wasn’t paying attention and fell into the space between the wall and the bed. I stood to run, but he was between me and the door now, and all I wanted was fresh air.

“Logan,” I didn’t have the strength anymore and my knees hit the floor. “How? Why me?” I asked him through my tears. He pushed the hoods back and ran one hand through my hair and cupped my cheek with one hand. I flinched and the look in his eyes was like ice.

“You don’t do that, not with me,” he said pulling my face to his neck. He pulled off my coat, hoodie and gloves while I cried into his neck.

“I don’t understand…”

“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry baby. We’ll figure it out. Calm down. See, you’re fine, I’m fine and we’re touching. It’s not gone.” He took a second to breathe my scent in deeply. “You smell fine, a little off, but fine. There’s nothing wrong with you.” We sat like that for a while, him rubbing my back, me drinking in his scent and listening to his heart.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” There was awe in my voice when I spoke. I could feel him smile into my hair. “My arms and face have been tingling.” He doesn’t pull away and I’m actually amazed. I chastise myself, if there’s anyone who’s never been afraid, it’s Logan.

“You okay now?” I nodded into his neck, and leaned back. “Let’s get to the police station so that we can get the hell outta here.” He helped me to my feet and I threw all my stuff on. We walked across town to the Police Station.

Three hours and one angry Logan later we were in the Jeep headed south. Two bathroom breaks after that and we were parked at a lake sitting at a picnic table covered with sandwich stuff and water bottles. Logan was pacing back and forth mumbling about ‘stupid fucking police’ and ‘mutant hating mother fuckers’. The visit to the police station hadn’t gone well.

Apparently since my wounds had healed, and nothing had been taken, they couldn’t charge the clerk with anything. And someone had recognized me. I think that’s what pissed Logan off the most. I was pretty angry too, but I didn’t have the energy to pace like he was doing.

“I don’t know how… I thought… ” I stuttered as I looked down at the book in front of me. “Isn’t this illegal? These are medical documents… ” Page after page of mutants who’d taken the cure filled with information. Pictures, names descriptions of their old powers, where they lived, the last place they were seen, and the date they’d taken the cure all there in living color and yours for 5 bucks.

I stared at the picture of myself. I remembered when they must have taken it, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember having seen a camera that day. Just lots of protestors. Of course, they wouldn’t want to make themselves known. I read my weight height and age like it was a statistic out of a playbook. They had my non-existent occupation and stated that I ‘was a runaway who fled her hometown after attacking and nearly killing a local boy’.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I threw the book against the nearest tree. Logan was sitting beside me then straddling the bench. He ran one hand over my back and the other over my right thigh. I interlaced my fingers against the need to hit something and leaned over onto his chest. His warmth seeped into my suddenly cold frame and I gritted my teeth against the sobs.

“Listen, Baby. That is nothing, its shit.” He said, pointing to the book on the ground. “We won’t have to worry about it. Look at me, no one is gonna mess with you with me around, ok? You gotta believe me Marie; nothing is gonna happen to you. That thing, it said you were in Westchester. We’re not there. You’ll be fine. We’ll just stay away from Chuckie and the kiddies, alright? No one’ll mess with you.”

I sighed when he was done. There was no getting around it. It’s not like the streaks in my hair didn’t proclaim me as different anyway. “Okay Logan, but where will we go?”

“I’ve got that cabin I told you about once. It’s a big one room and it’s perfect for us. We can turn around and head up there. It’s just now the beginning of fall. We’ve got plenty of time. We’re not far from Grande Cache now. We’ll stop there, get a trailer, and the supplies we’ll need, and we’ll head out to the cabin.”

My arms started tingling again, and I rubbed my freezing hands together before pulling on my gloves. It was terrifying to wonder about the cure wearing off. My mind was a haze while I finished my sandwich and a bottle of water. We were in the car and driving north when Logan said we’d reach Grande Cache in two hours. He said after that it was 45 minutes to his turnoff, and then the cabin was another 30 minutes rough terrain. He had lots of land, and we could hunt, and he’d cut firewood, and I could cook, and it was furnished already.

Mostly I wasn’t worried, until I could smell the worry rolling off of him.

Title: Grade Cache

Series: Last Call

Rating: PG 13
Verse: Post X3
Summary: Settling in and starting again…
Genre: Shipper
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men, Marvel does.

Grande Cache isn’t a big town. It’s not a small one either. Logan took my gloves, so there I was, skin all kinds of crazy (even though I can still touch Logan, but who’s to say he’s not immune) walking though a wallyworld knockoff looking for refills on shit I know I’ll need. I’ve uncapped and recapped lots of shampoos but they all stink to high heaven. Suddenly Logan’s there and I find myself grabbing one of his arms and holding him in a death grip.

“Give me my gloves.” He ignored me, focusing instead on the selection of bottles I’d been staring at. I huffed for a few more moments, crossing my arms and tapping my toes before relenting and returning to my perusal of the soaps and hair products. Logan turned toward me.

“Don’t you got enough of this stuff?” I took a page from his book and pretended he hadn’t spoken.

“How does this smell?” I shoved an open bottle of conditioner under his nose and waited patiently for him to reply. He pulled backwards and grimaced.

“That your problem darlin’, the smell?” Taking another page from his book, I grunted. He arched an eyebrow at me and smirked before spinning around and looking at the selection. He seemed to find what he was looking for because he waved his hand around to get my attention. “These are your best bet.”

I concentrated on the selection, testing certain scents before grabbing a body wash, conditioner, and shampoo. Logan chuckled behind me and I turned to glare at him. “What? “

“Grab a few Marie, I’ll be able to plow the roads if we need to, but I wouldn’t want you to run out.” I looked at him for a moment longer before tossing 6 more bottles into my waiting basket. Fuck it.

I made a pit stop at the feminine department and loaded up there too. Tooth brushes, toothpaste, some new clothes for each of us, and lots of other necessities I assumed Logan didn’t keep in stock later we were loading a bunch of stuff into the already sparse room left in the Jeep. Mostly it was cleaning supplies. Basic stuff lemon juice, salt, baking soda, wood oil, unscented dish soap, lots of natural cleaners and products. Logan picked it all, saving my new sense of smell I guess.  Next stop, food.

Mostly all we needed was dry goods, packaged and what not. By the time we finished at the grocery, the Jeep was packed to its fullest. We loaded up the last of our purchases and headed to the outskirts of town. After a 15 minute drive we turned onto a packed dirt road, the kind that if you stepped on it you’d think you were standing on concrete. Another 10 minutes up that road and we’re pulling up in front of a small cleared area, big enough for three cars.

The cabin was just like he’d described, huge. One big ‘L’ shaped wooden structure, a covered porch nestled in the bend, protected on the right by the short side of the ‘L’ and on the top. It seemed as if the cabin and the small wood shed were cut right out of the forest, but placed strategically so the high afternoon sun would shine down on the roof. I must have stood staring like a dummy long enough for Logan to get amused, because when he grabbed my hand and said “Come on girl,” there was the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face. He’d never given me my gloves back and his skin was warm against mine, he had both of our duffels on his shoulder when he pulled me up onto the porch. A quick turn of the lock, and we were in. I was only mildly surprised when Logan punched a few quick numbers onto the security box on the wall.

I would have made some snarky comment but I was too amazed at the furnishings. Rustic, but not Spartan. Comfortable but not plush. It screamed ‘Logan!’ in every line of the mahogany and every curve of fabric. The far end of the cabin, separated from view by a large half pulled back tapestry of multi colored threads secured across the length was a bed and dresser. There was a different design on the other side, but it was obscured where the fabric was bunched and I couldn’t make it out. The bedclothes were very masculine in their colors and the mound of blankets bespoke of cold winters.

Closer and along the far wall was a sitting area with a fireplace and a worn couch and chairs. Mahogany tables dotted the entire expanse of the cabin. The walls were covered with cabinets on the bottoms and bookshelves on the top, with the exception of a 12 foot section directly in the middle of the back wall. Two large bay windows banked the fireplace offering a beautiful view of the curving and sloping mountain side. Now there was a cascade of shades of green topped with whitecaps.

I took in the area directly in front of me and noticed a small bench and a trunk. A closet and a coat rack. Logan dumped our bags on the floor, seemingly content to watch me admire the house. I sent him what I’m sure was an impressively awed smile and wandered forward. The desk and chair held paper and an old fashioned writing table, a CD player and stack of CD’s, and a picture of me in a frame laughing. A picture of me. I risked a look over my shoulder and my brown eyes clashed with his golden ones for a moment before I looked away and moved further into the cabin.

I was at the crook of the ‘L’ now coming out of the long end. A wooden table, same shade and design as the rest of the furniture, was surrounded by chairs and rested near another set of windows. These windows were shorter (not reaching from hip to rafters like the others) and longer, with hinges at each end to allow them to lift up and out. A dirty glass ashtray sat on one of the bookshelves there and I had the distinct image of Logan sitting there, coffee in hand, staring out into the forest. A small table and two more chairs sat directly in front of it, one of the chairs had been pulled back and forth so much, it showed lines of wear in the floor. I wonder how long he’s been coming here.

The kitchen occupied the short part of the ‘L’ shape directly next to the porch, a window looking out over the parking lot. All the staples of a semi modern kitchen resided in the marble-countered mahogany-cabineted kitchen. Coffee pot, stove, refrigerator, I assumed they were all electric, and that Logan must have raised hell to get the electric company out this far. There wasn’t much in the way of lights; small lamps and candles were everywhere. I turned to look back at Logan, I’m sure I still had that dazzling awed smile on my face. “Wow,” I breathed.

“So you like it?” He was nervous again, a different kind than the one that tensed up the Jeep on the long ride. I pushed the tormented thoughts away and focused on the joy at just being here with him. I smiled again, but I could tell it had dimmed a bit with my troubles.

I moved forward like a trooper. “You have to ask? It’s great!”

“Good,” the amused smile was back on his face and I couldn’t help the wattage it restored to my own. “Look, you get our bags unpacked, and I’ll get the rest of the stuff.” His demeanor had changed and he was slightly bashful. I liked it. He turned and left out the front door. I lifted the bags and carted them back toward the bedroom area, idly wondering where I would sleep.

I unpacked Logan’s bag and on one of his repeat trips in caught his attention. “Logan, where do I put my stuff?” He sent me an odd look and walked toward me. I was standing wringing my hands when he reached my side and looked around at the small bedroom area.

“There’s not enough room in the dresser?”

“Well, yeah. But do you want my stuff in there?”

He took my face in his hands and tilted my face up. “Marie,” he said looking into my eyes. “I fucked up. Big. It took you leaving for me to realize that I might actually lose you. It took me losing you to realize that you’re all I ever wanted.” He leaned close, and his lips met mine for the first time since that fateful night. “If you’ll have me, I want you to share everything that I am. I’m yours Marie, plain and simple. So yeah,” he grinned placing another kiss on the tip of my nose. “Put your stuff in the dresser.”

I stood staring after him for a few seconds before I finished unpacking my bag and neatly arranging things, a weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying was gone and a contented smile crept up. Everything wasn’t perfect yet, but it was on its way. My thoughts wandered and I let my eyes roam around me. The hidden side of the tapestry was now pulled mostly closed and I could see an intricate design of either Native American or Inuit origin. I’m fairly well versed in American history. It looked handmade, not store bought and I made a mental note to ask Logan about it.

Hours later I was in the kitchen, fighting with a finicky stove and begging Logan for the third time to come help me. In my defense each time he came to look, the thing worked fine, and I swear some evil spirit made the flames leap and fly in direct response to my emotions. I was gonna burn the fish, and I was tired of grabbing piping hot handles and having to bear through the quickly healing pain. Tears welled in my eyes, and I know Logan smelt them on his way inside. It doesn’t help that I keep getting distracted by the sight of him shirtless and chopping wood through the small kitchen window.

Lightly he batted my hands away, and I could see him glare at the red slowly fading from my palms. “Darlin’ we’ve got those things to cover your hands. Use ‘em.” He said gruffly before turning his attention to the burners. The flames were leaping wildly, crawling up the sides of the pan and licking at the juices bubbling with the heat. Finally Logan got them patted out and the burner off, he removed the pan from the stovetop and placed it on a waiting wooden cutting board.

“I swear baby, I ain’t never had a problem with this thing before. I’ll look at it before we have to cook next time.” I smiled at his words, and slipped my arms around him, inhaling the strong woodsy Logan smell that calmed me so well. He nuzzled his face into my neck before biting me lightly, and pulling away. “You get the rest of dinner together while I finish up the wood.”

I tossed a salad and cut some bread to serve with the fish while he cleaned up. It wasn’t long before we were cleaning up and getting ready to go to bed. Logan sat at the table, window opened and smoking a cigar, glass of whiskey on ice in front of him. I’d eyed the glass repeatedly; afraid of a relapse into the scarier days of a drinking Logan, but he’d told me that there wouldn’t be anymore of that. I could see hurt in his eyes at the uncertainty rolling off of me. I still looked at it warily, and was relieved when he did nothing but sip at the two inches of liquid inside the glass.

“What kind of whiskey isn’t done in shots?” I asked, I’ve never been well versed on alcohol, and I didn’t have the years worth of memories of all the men I’d touched to fall back on. I spared a moment for the fact that I never once touched a woman after my mutation surfaced. Even touchable, I shied away from any casual contact. Only people I cared about ever got to touch my skin. And Logan has touched lots of it. Back on track Marie!

“This is an expensive kind. Come here, smell it.” I strolled over to him, my sock covered feet cool on the wooden floors. I’d begun to notice my core temperature running a little low and was wrapped in a robe I’d pulled from my duffel. A pair of sleep pants, a tank top, and one of Logan’s button ups completed the ensemble. I brought my nose close the rim and picked out each smell Logan told me existed. He’d been doing this all day, teaching me the different scent markers and trace smells around me. If I was going to have his senses for good, I should definitely learn to live with them and put them to some use.

“You won’t find that mixture of smells in Jack Daniels.” He said, swirling the amber liquid in the glass. Have a sip.” I took the glass from him, and brought it to my lips. A tiny sip, no more than a drop touched my tongue when a burst of flavors exploded in my mouth.

“It’s so good. That’s amazing. I’ve noticed all the flavors in food, but they were always there before. I never noticed it in alcohol before.” He smiled at me and took the glass from my fingers before setting it on the table and stubbing out his cigar. “Is that why you drink and smoke?” I asked, and he gently pulled me toward the bedroom area. “All the flavors?”

“All kinds of things have different flavors and scents. What did you think of the smell of the cigar I was smoking?”

The words tumbled out of my mouth before I had the chance to censor them. “I like ‘em, they smell like you.” He smiled softly at me and pulled me into his arms. My lips met his and I tasted the whiskey, the cigar and something only Logan tastes like as his mouth explored mine. We stayed like that for a moment before he pulled away and stripped off my robe. He left my clothes in place, he too must have noticed the change in my body temperature. There was nothing but his enveloping embrace and intoxicating scent to lull me into sleep.

Apparently I hadn’t realized how tired I was because the next thing I knew, I was alone on my bed, with the sun streaming in a window. And the first thing that hit me was the urge to vomit. I barely made it to the sink. I wasn’t any weaker than I had been the day before. Which was a marked improvement, considering I had been deteriorating ever since I started this throwing up business.

I hobbled back to the bed and crawled across it. The hunger gnawing at my stomach battling with the urge to dry heave.

“Logan.” It was a weak attempt at best to holler for help. I mustered up the strength and courage for one long loud outburst of sound. It took me a few minutes. “Logan!” I was certain he’d heard me that time. His voice was a faint echo in my ears before I started hollering and now I could hear the sound of his boots thud-thud-thudding down the hall.

When he stepped though the door, my hand was already reaching out toward him. He scooped me up and into the bathroom, where he held me steady while I brushed and rinse. Apparently I had gotten worse, because I couldn’t even stand on my own anymore. When I was done, he carried me down the hall and all the way down to the Med Bay.

The hallways were conspicuously empty, I suspected the benevolent Professor for that, even if he had to get Emma Frost to deliver the message. Ugh, she’d probably felt my distress, I’d bet she’s somewhere laughing her PVC clad ass off right now. I felt Logan tense and realized he must have sensed my anger.

“Baby, I’m so sorry this is making you sick. It makes me feel helpless and there isn’t anything I can do for you.” His voice was resigned, but his scent was angry and tentative. “I’m sorry, I know it makes you mad. But Hank’ll figure something out, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m not mad at you,” My voice was muffled because I’d tucked my face in close to his chest. “I’m mad because Emma, the bitch, was probably out here somewhere, and she knew I was in trouble and she didn’t help at all. She’s probably laughing her fat PVC covered butt off somewhere.”

A little rumble of laughter vibrated through him and I slanted my head back at him. “Darlin’ she doesn’t wear PVC around the mansion anymore. Now she’s gigglin’ her polyester covered butt off somewhere.” He continued chuckling until we made it to the main floor. By then I’d had another dash of nausea and I’d returned to closed eyes and leaning on his chest. We made it to the elevator and Storm was there, I’d peeked my eyes open long enough to check then I’d memorized her scent.

Who was left now? I got, Kitty, Bobby (by proxy, I really should get his first hand), Emma, The Professor, Hank. I needed Pitor, Jubes… My head was starting to pound, so I gave up my mental list. Storm spoke and interrupted the quiet growl/purring coming from Logan.

“Are you still sick, my child?” Her smooth soft tones and regal Kenyan accent was like music to my ears. I really missed her.

I nodded my head, ever so slowly.

“Have you tried ginger, I assume that Hank has tried everything else. Your mutation has probably already worked out the synthetic drugs, but I think that ginger, being a natural substance, should help.”

Oh my God. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten that. My mother had told me once, so had every other female member of my family. I’d even read it in that stupid book that was stuck in my purse, that was… somewhere.

“Do you think Hank has some in the Med Bay?” I managed weakly.

“I am sure he does.” She smiled resolutely. We shall retrieve some and make you a tea first, to get it digested quicker, and then you should take them whole. On a timed schedule I think.” Ororo kept her face forward; I didn’t hear her move an inch the whole time we’d been talking.

I kept my head nestled into the crook of Logan’s neck. I felt him shift and look at Ororo. “Hank’s got plants growing down in the lab?” He asked incredulously. 

Ororo tuned to look at him and the exact time that I leaned back to look at him. “No Logan.” Storm replied, looking amused.

“They make it into pills, sugar.” I replied, settling my head back onto his shoulder. “My mamma told me about ‘em years ago. I can’t believe I forgot.” I slipped an arm around his neck, feeling marginally better knowing that I might have another solution to my vomiting issue. “And Storm’s right. It’s concentrated Ginger, no fillers. Sure, I’ll burn through it before a normal person would but I’d only have to take it like an hour before I eat, so I’ll be able to keep enough food down that I’ll regain my strength. And it won’t hurt me, or the baby.”

“Ok, then we’ll get you some and wait a little bit and then get you fed.”He replied gruffly. Hopefully this’ll work and he won’t be so worried about me anymore. The rest of the elevator ride continued in silence. My eyes drifted closed as I buried my face into Logan’s skin, his scent surrounded me and, combined with the feel of his arms, I was completely relaxed.

When he started moving again, I resisted the urge to open my eyes I knew no good would come of it. Storm had walked across the room and was shuffling in one of the cabinets when Logan leaned down and placed a kiss on the side of my neck.

“How you feelin, darlin’?” His rumbled.

“I’m mostly hangin’ on. Just, you know, ready to be done being sick.” My eyes stayed closed and I continued to breathe in his scent. I heard storm close the cabinet and move closer. I concentrated on Logan footsteps, light and sure, as we made our way back to the kitchens. I felt as if I was floating, or… being carried by a floating person. My thoughts weren’t making any sense.

An hour later I was sitting in an opulent sitting room, furnished with comfy plush couches and chairs and lots of plants. I’d demanded not to be carried into the kitchen, the scent of spicy hot food tickling my nose down the hall making heartburn and bile rise in my throat at the same time. Not fun.

Storm had me nursing this weirdly good (and I mean really good, it was outstanding) cup of exotic tea that she’s mixed the ginger into. It’s smells fantastic and I’ve really got to get her to make me, like, a huge tin so Logan can just scoop it into the little ball and drop it into the mug of water. I had a lingering suspicion that the kitchen would constantly make me sick, and I’d already ruled out eating anywhere confined.

I was tempted to ask Logan to make me something. I was starving, and feeling ten times better. The tea really worked. I gave it another five minutes before asking him. “Logan, could you make me a sandwich?”

He leaned in close and placed his lips against my cheek. “Sure baby, what do ya want?”

“A turkey sandwich with pickles, a little bit of mayo and Mozzarella cheese. And some kind of chip. Plain hopefully, no flavoring just like, you know, Lays or something.” I didn’t have to think about it. I’d been planning my first meal for the last twenty-four hours. “Oh, and another cup of tea.” I added the doe eyed look for good measure and could practically feel Logan acquiesce to my demands. I felt kind of silly giving him the doe eyes; I knew he wouldn’t need a reason to do what I asked. He considered feeding me and fetching things for me part of his duties as my mate. He blushes when he calls me that, and it’s absolutely adorable, but he really means it, especially with me pregnant. But, I try to cater to his outward ‘badass’ demeanor as much as possible with other around. Not that he wouldn’t anyhow, he’d been the perfect picture of the helpful husband since he’d told me I was expecting. Which is still kind of embarrassing, him figuring it out before me. But in my defense, I had all these crazy powers manifesting in me. Oh, now I’m worried again.

“I’ve prepared a large container filled with the exact mixture of Rogue’s tea. Just place one scoop into the tea ball and drop it into the boiling water.” Ororo definitely is a Goddess. I smiled my thanks at her as Logan disappeared through the doorway.

“How are you doing dear?” Ororo asked me. I smiled and inhaled her scent again. She smelt the same way your hair smells after you’ve spent hours in the sun. Sunshine and serene calming scent that was purely her.

“I’m feeling much better, ‘Ro. Really, that tea works wonders.”

She chuckled a bit before she spoke again. “It should be left completely alone, I’ve marked it ‘Logan’. If that doesn’t scare people off, I don’t know what will. You should be able to have a glass every few hours and remain fairly stable. There are a few different herbs in it that are safe for you to consume and will keep the sickness at bay. Be sure to tell me whenever you are running low, and I will make another batch for you.”

I smiled again and leaned back into the cushions for a moment before pushing to my feet. Ororo and I walked out to the adjoining patio where I’d opted to eat today. Hopefully a light breeze would carry all unwelcome scents away. I asked ‘Ro about it.

“I’m sure it can be arranged.” She responded with a serene smile. I was starting to feel more comfortable again, like I had before I left, minus the hovering depression. Everything was going a little too well. The worry from earlier started to creep back again. I’d have to learn to control these powers. The Professor couldn’t help me anymore, and I’d rather ask Erik for help again before spending any length of time Emma Frost. I started to feel my core temperature drop and looked for a happier situation. 

Logan returned with a tray laden with food and another cup of tea. I thanked him with a kiss (I was becoming increasingly fond of his kisses) and started in on the food. I rejoiced inwardly when there was no trace of nausea and dove headfirst into my food.

“Baby, you really should slow down, if you eat to fast you’ll just throw it all up again.” Logan, the kill joy.

“Logan is right, dear. It is best to eat at a slow and regulated pace.”

Well, as head first as Logan and ‘Ro would let me. Apparently you have to eat slowly when you haven’t had a lot of food. Stupid stomach.

It wasn’t long before Hank came seeking me out.

“You are looking a great deal healthier now, I must say Rogue. When I heard that you had awoken in a rather untoward state I was a bit worried. But then I saw the tin labeled ‘Logan’ in Ororo’s handwriting and realized that you had turned to more herbal approach.”

Logan jumped in before Hank could expound on the pro’s and con’s of alternative medicine. “I was meaning to ask about that ‘Ro, what’s the deal putting my name on that?”

Another of Ororo’s chuckles before she reiterated her logic. “Damn Straight” Logan replied, “anyone touches anything that’s mine will a hand chopped off.” I watched all this, sneaking in bigger faster bites while the attention was off of me. It didn’t last long.

“Rogue, you really should not eat quite so fast, you could upset your stomach again.” Hank at his disapproving best.

I swallowed and sent him my best ‘forgive me’ brown eyed look. He smiled and continued. “I’ve been waiting until you felt a little better before approaching the subject of your mutation. I believe that now is the best time.”

I look another sip of my tea, noticing that it was now ice cold. With a sigh and an annoyed look at Hank I set my tray aside. The air puffed out of my mouth in a little cloud of crystals. “Hank,” Logan began cautiously, but I waylaid him.

“No Logan, I need to hear this.” He sighed and pulled my now much colder body into his side.

“Go on,” was his gruff reply. I could smell the apprehension rolling off of him, and knew I must smell a little closer to outright fear.

Hank took a deep breath and found a spot in the greenery behind me at which to stare. “My initial examination of Kitty was able to help me greatly concerning you. You see, with Kitty it accelerated her powers to their next stage. Although we cannot do much testing, I fear what too much phasing will do to the fetus. In your case, I think our first focus should be to learn to control your manifestation of Bobby’s powers, because I do not know what the change in temperature will do to the child. I think-” He stopped himself, reorganizing his thoughts.

 “Forgive me, I jumped ahead. When most mutants initially manifest their powers, it is during a time of great stress, or during the natural hormonal growth of puberty. Women, I am afraid, have two more times of great hormonal growth. One, is during menopause. Considering the development of Logan’s healing, you may very well never experience this. The other is during pregnancy. It is my professional opinion that during these times, female mutants may undergo a transition stage where their power manifests on a different level, or they manifest a secondary mutation altogether. You seem to have done both. Although I believe they are both the ramification of your mutation in general. I think that the next stage of your mutant abilities was to be able to call upon the powers that you have previously absorbed. But, I think that your skin will no longer work properly because of the cure.” He paused in thought for a moment before continuing.

“I regret to tell you that I have no idea if you will retain your extra powers after your pregnancy, but we must at least deal with them now. You must learn to control the abilities that you have retained. I am not sure, given your current relationship with Ms. Frost, if you should attempt to do so with her or if we should find another telepath.” Hank finished with a bit of a sheepish expression, but his scent was relieved. Poor Hank, always worried about everyone else.

I took a moment to process this information, delighted that I wouldn’t be upchucking anytime soon. I wasn’t ready to deal with the ramifications of what Hank had said about my lasting abilities or anything else really except the main least emotionally upheaving one. I’d need to learn to control my powers. That was kinda obvious, the entire reason we’d come back. But I was a bit weary of doing so, I’d never learned to control my skin and the idea was daunting. But I didn’t want to work with Emma. And I’d rather not work with anyone I didn’t really know. I brought this up to Hank.

“What if I worked with each individual?” Hanks sputtered for an answer, and Logan nearly launched out of his chair, I could definitely tell that the idea of me facing Magneto and maybe Pyro, was freaking him out a bit.

“No Ma- Rogue. No. You don’t-” He seemed to stop himself, realizing that if anyone knew anything about Mags and Pyro it’s be me. I’ve spent 6 ad 3 years respectively with each of them in my head. I knew the ins and outs of their personalities. I think he started to understand that, but he was till weary of agreeing right off the bat. “We- We’ll talk about it, okay? We’ll talk about it.”

I nodded at him, pulling him back into my grip and snuggling my face back into his neck. He stroked my hair and back and rumbled a little growl to soothe me. He could tell I was frazzled, overwrought, and scared. Hank left quietly, telling us he’d find us later so that we could speak some more. ‘Ro picked up my glass of tea, saying she’d be right back. Logan leaned down and kissed my mouth, his lips were soft, comforting, and soothing.

Title: Ghostwalking and Dreamscapes

Series: Last Call

Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly there are no original characters in this story. *pouts*

Word Count: 2,617

The mansion is eerily quiet in the early morning hours. In the two weeks since we’d been at the mansion, the only thing that had gone right was continually drinking the Ginger tea that Ororo had whipped up for me. I’d taken to sleeplessness that I had a feeling that was due to the stress level that I was under instead of the pregnancy.

I was getting nowhere with my power controls, and Hank wanted me to get my emotions firmly in check (meaning no more explosions of powers for, like, a week) before I tried to consciously use my powers. I growled and moved toward the kitchens, enhanced senses on full alert. When I decided that no one was around to bother me, I entered. I headed straight for the freezer, digging out a tub of vanilla bean slow churned before grabbing a spoon from the drawer and settling into a chair at the kitchen table.

Two bites in I decided that eating a whole tub of ice cream was not a good midnight snack and even the thought that I could get some much needed calcium didn’t convince me otherwise. I put the lid back on, stuffed the container back into the fridge, and left my spoon in the sink. I was loathe to continue my ghost-walk through the halls and made my way back out to the patio.

When I noticed the temperature around me dropping more than the weather allowed, I struggled to get a grip on the melancholia seeping into my subconscious. I had been outside for approximately 20 minutes when I heard someone rummaging around in the kitchen. With the patio doors closed, I couldn’t smell who it was but stayed unconcerned. I hadn’t moved in minutes and was content to let the individual continue their hunt for food. So I was startled when the door to my right swung open and Emma Frost stepped out.

“Emma, what do you want? I’m not in the mood for this.” I huffed.

She sighed before speaking. “It isn’t my goal to anger you any further. I could sense your struggle with your emotions, and I’m pretty sure that I can help you here.”

I turned to glare at her. “Emma, really. I’m not-” She but me off before I could say anymore.

“Do you want to learn to control your new powers?”

She stopped me pretty dead in my tracks. I was sick of trying so hard and barely managing to control the effects. I really wanted some help here, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to spend lots of Emma-time dealing with her bitchiness and condescending manners. I huffed about it for a moment sitting there in the dark and turning over the possibilities. She really thought she could help me, I could smell it all over her. But that didn’t mean her motives were chaste. She must have been reading my thoughts because she narrowed her eyes at me in a way that wasn’t angry or threatening, just… Emma.

I sighed. “Do you really think you can help?”

She maintained her place leaning against the door frame, as if moving would scare me off. Actually, it was a pretty smart move; because at that point I was very skittish of the whole idea; and any sudden movements very well could have sent me careening over the edge of ‘no’.

“I think that if you had some stable individual there, to help you through your emotions with a calm supportive hand you could lead. The reason I don’t think Logan can help as much as you want him to has to do with the fact that you depend on him to get you to stop the emotional outbursts instead of helping you control them to begin with.”

She still wasn’t moving and I sat for a moment, thinking over what she said. And dammnit if she wasn’t right either. I had been spending so much time putting an end to them, that I hadn’t even thought of preemptive measures. I sighed.

“Fine Emma, we’ll try this you way. If you can teach me how to stop having some of the worst emotional outbursts, then we’ll see what comes after.” I wasn’t fooled for a moment, I knew Emma wanted a crack at teaching me to control the powers at my fingertips. I just wasn’t sure how helpful she was going to be in that department.

“Rogue, I’m sure that I’ll be more than capable at teaching you some techniques in which to calm your raging hormones. Emotions shouldn’t be coddled, they should be kept under firm lock and key at all times.” There it was again, that condescending tone I was committing myself to for unknown hours a day. Was I ready for this?

“Emma, maybe-” Again she cut me off before I had a chance to speak. That’s getting annoying.

“Tut-tut, Rogue. I’ll see you in the morning, say, 10 am sharp? It’ll give you time to get a few glasses of tea in.” I couldn’t quite suppress the urge to growl and it came out low and deep. She seemed to catch herself this time. “Goodnight dear.” And with that she took off through the kitchen doorway.

I sat for a few more hours before Logan noticed I wasn’t in bed. He’d been so exhausted worrying about me for as long as I was worrying about myself that he tended to sleep heavy as a stone. I was just nodding to sleep when he found me on the patio.

“Baby,” he said, lifting me from the chair. I snuggled into his chest. “You really have to stop this. It’s freezing out here. I know you can’t feel it, but it can’t be good for the baby.” He was so worried and I was so tired, but to appease him I managed a weak smile and nod. The clock next to the bed read four am when he finally tucked me into the covers and curled up behind me. I closed my eyes and drifted comfortably into sleep having completely forgotten about my pact with Emma.

“Emma? Are you serious? I thought you said you wanted to do this on your own?” Logan was flustered, confused, angry, and indignant. I knew, had known since before we left the mansion that he didn’t like Emma. And now, his distaste had grown to mountainous proportions.

“Logan, I know you don’t like her, but imagine if she can help me. The sooner I get my emotions under control the sooner I can work on my powers. And after that, we can move back to the cabin. I know I’d rather be there than here, but I want to get these powers under control so that I can do that without fear of hurting you or the baby once it gets here.” I said from my seated position on the mattress.

He faltered then. The things he cared about most, me and the baby, in any type of danger situation he couldn’t control always left him grasping at straws. He narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brows, and stewed for five whole minutes before he huffed and crossed to sit on the bed.

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.” He practically growled at me. Immediately regretting his tone he frowned and scrubbed a hand over his face. I waited and, although he still smelled like worry, he’d cleared all his features of all outward signs of distress. He wrapped his arms around me and breathed deeply from my hair. After a moment, we rose and left to go meet with Emma.

I met Emma in one of the interrogation rooms designed for helping traumatized children with their powers. It was annoying. I gave her a look when I entered, expressing my annoyance at the idea.

“I figured you would be more comfortable in this type of environment. I’m told it’s very soothing here.” I gritted my teeth and tried to remind myself that I actually needed her help. Maybe. I looked directly into the large mirrored wall and did my best to estimate where Logan was on the other side. Observing. I smiled and hoped I’d done my best not to look severely annoyed.

Emma motioned for me to sit on the loveseat against the far wall, and I thanked God or small mercies that she hadn’t tried to put me in one of the tiny fluffy toddler chairs, or on the floor.

“It’ll be easier if we hold hands, it doesn’t really allow for the connection to be any stronger, but it does give a sense of grounding.” Emma told me, taking both of my hands into hers and trying to smile politely. At least she was attempting to be professional. A part of me still wondered what state of lucidity I’d been in to agree, but the smarter side had seen the logic in it all and over-powered the skeptical part.

“I want you to close your eyes and picture someplace serene. A place where you’ve never been hurt and never felt or done anything that you didn’t want to.”

I took me a while to find this place, there were a lot of time (and by association, places) that I’d been forced to do things that I didn’t want to. Times when I’d done things I’d wanted, but felt awful about them. Times I’d been hurt, or coerced. I settled on a pre-mutation era backyard. I’m only been there once or twice, and was always on my worst behavior while there. But I’d been a kid, and grandma had been keeping me for the summer, and she spoiled me rotten. I’d loved her, and even the fact that she’d died soon after the last time, hadn’t really caused me any pain, because I knew she was safe, and loved and not hurting anymore. All I felt when I thought of her home was relief and satisfaction, happiness that I could bring some light to her later years, even if I hadn’t known of it then.

Emma ruined it by commenting on the weeds. Everything flickered for a moment and then became clear again. I was on a tree swing, the exact age that I am now, but extremely pregnant. I assumed that the baby was already such a presence in my life that I’d manifested it in my subconscious as fully formed, only not yet born because I hadn’t seen it yet.

“You’re very right.” Emma said offhandedly from her place on the nearby yard swing. When I gave her the evil eye she clarified. “We’re in your mind, darling. Every thought rings loud and clear here, like you’re speaking without using your lips.”

“Why didn’t I manifest Logan here?” I wondered. Aloud or not, I couldn’t be sure, but I heard my voice all the same.

“Because he’s not a part of you. I mean, he is, but not in the physical sense. The baby is a part of you right now, an actual extension of your being, so it’s her too. But Logan’s not. He’s another person moving in and around your life but not part of you. The only reason I’m here is because I’m a telepath, remember?”

I shot her an annoyed look but held my calm quite easily.

“Okay, we’re here. What now?” Emma stood and wandered around a bit, thinking before answering my questions. She ran her fingers over some reeds growing near the pond at the edge of the yard. Bent to sniff a rosebush. Caressed the petals of a patch of lilies.

“You really are quite good at recalling details. The smells and textures are perfect.” She told me. I was slightly shocked by her obvious sincerity at the words and tested my sense of smell. She smelled like she was telling the truth. I wondered idly why I could still smell her. “Because we’re still in the same room, sitting on the couch. Everything that we do here exhibits itself in the real world. So it really is imperative that I help you ‘keep your cool’, so to speak.”

Her ridiculous grin and bad pun wiped away the little sentiment that she’d garnered from me thus far.

“So, you still didn’t answer me. What is it that we’re supposed to do here?”

“I’m going to do my best to piss you off. And then we’ll both do our best to keep you calm.” She smirked, the bitch, and I felt a little pissy but tamped it down in an effort of self control. It was surprisingly much easier to do it here, in this dreamscape world. I tossed an annoyed look over my shoulder, where Emma had ventured toward the house.

“Shall we try to make you a little more angry? Hmm… what’s probably the easiest way?”

Images start passing through my mind’s eye. Dark disheveled hair, sheets flying, bright blond locks. The sound of a woman’s moaning easily reaching my ears. I can feel the anger boiling inside me, looking at what I can only call a fantasy, because I know Logan would never sleep with Emma. It’s odd to feel your body temperature dropping and to want to burn something at the same time. The images don’t let up as my anger builds and I’m struggling to maintain some effort control when I start to see cracks in her fantasy.

The hair on his chest is slightly off in shape, the line of hair trailing to his stomach isn’t as tight and defined in reality as it is in her imagination. His skin was just this side of the wrong shade and the breadth of his hips was off by a fraction or so. But mostly, it was his movements, the growling and quick fast motions were all wrong for his body position.

 

Now, admittedly, Logan and I’d only had sex the one time but I’d lived with his memories for a long long time, and I knew every inch of him just as if it was me. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, when you live with something for as long as I did, it becomes as much a part of me as it was the parts of their personality.

When a hoarse grunt from the vision in my head caught my ear I did growl. “Knock it off Emma.”

She chuckled and the image disappeared. My anger had been successfully reeled in and I’d barely even noticed. I was beginning to realize that if I thought about another subject, or the way the specific situation affected the rational me, it was surprisingly easy to maintain my perfect outward calm.

“Once more then you think? I’ve got the perfect example… Why don’t I take a lingering little look at those pretty little memories of yours, hmmm?”

I could feel her reaching into my skull with her dirty telepathic hands and I reacted violently. She had settled on the memory of a night this past week (when Logan had massaged every part of my naked body I’d let him) before I managed to kick her out of my head so forcefully that she’d cried out in shock. I pulled myself from my dreamscape and back into reality in time to see her falling off the loveseat.

I stood and looked down at her, sprawled across the floor. The temperature in the room returned to normal almost immediately. Still pissed as hell, but not burning anything down or freezing anyone solid or some other such nonsense, I stepped over her with one last disparaging remark.

“Thanks Emma, I don’t think I’ll be needing your help anymore.”