Logan stared out across the lake, his trademark frown weighted with an uncharacteristic hint of fear. He didn't think it would take her long to seek him out. She knew exactly where he liked to brood with a good Cuban cigar.

The last time they had touched and he had healed her, was that fateful day on Liberty Island, almost four years ago. Sometimes it felt like yesterday, other times a lifetime away, but that image of her, lifeless in his arms, would never leave him, would always be burned into those few fragments of memory he could claim as his own.

He had almost lost her again today. A mission gone wrong. An explosion that she had caught the tail end of. He hadn't hesitated to heal her. It was only afterwards he realised that this touch would change everything. That their relationship would never be the same once she learnt the truth.

He closed his eyes, already sensing her sweet-as-honey scent on the light morning breeze. He heard a twig snap but didn't react, didn't turn. He knew she was standing there watching him.

"All this time?" he heard her whisper, her voice so faint he had to rely on his heightened senses to pick it up. "All this time and you never told me?"

His eyes eased open. The sun on his face felt like an encouraging caress. Gave him hope.

"Guess this tough guy is really a closet coward," he murmured back.

"I wish you had told me," she added gently, regret laced through her words.

"You were too young." He hesitated, shrugged in his leather. "Besides. Thought it was just a teenage crush. Hero worship an' all."

"It was," she confessed, "in the beginning. But it matured. Just like I've matured."

He sensed her move closer and tensed when he felt her hands rest on his shoulders.

"You've changed so much, don't you realise that? It's almost like there are two versions of you in my head now. The bitter, world weary, Wolverine, and now..." she faltered and he could sense her smile. "And now...just Logan. There's such a sense of peace about you." She chuckled quietly. "I'm not saying you've turned into a hairy Dalai Lama but you seem settled somehow. Not, like, settled as in a place...but the turmoil in your mind is no longer an uncontrollable maelstrom."

It was his turn to chuckle, although there was still an edge of discomfiture to the action. "Christ, kid, you sound like Storm."

Marie smiled as she sat beside him on his log. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They both turned at the same time, eyes meeting. For a long moment nothing further was said and yet the look they exchanged spoke volumes.

"Logan," Marie whispered urgently. "I've loved you since the first second I laid eyes on you. I fell in love with you last Christmas when I watched you laugh at Scott. Remember that pair of boxer shorts with the yellow smilies on them that Jubilee bought him?"

He smirked. "How could I forget. The look on his face was priceless." Logan also remembered feeling decidedly strange afterwards. His mouth actually aching. He couldn’t ever remember laughing so hard or so naturally.

Marie’s eyes turned serious. "I never told you how I felt because I didn't think I was good enough for you. Yet all this time you didn't think you were good enough for me."

He watched her, puzzled and angry. "Why the hell wouldn't you be good enough for me?"

"Well, for starters, I'm practically untouchable. Progress with the Professor to control my mutation is slow at best." She shrugged, seeming embarrassed. "And secondly, I haven't got Jean's good looks or Storms great body. I'm just teeth and lips and boob."

"Christ, kid, are you serious? Don't you know -"

She shushed him, her gloved finger held tentatively against his lips. "I know now. Know that you love me just as much as I love you." He noticed her blush. "And that you can't seem to focus on much besides my lips and boobs." There was a wicked gleam in her eyes as she drawled: "bad, Logan."

He couldn't help it. Those words, in that tone of voice, literally made him growl.

"And you can't deny it, buddy. 'Cause it's all up here." She tapped the side of her head and grinned again. "I must say that you're very creative when it comes to scarves and gloves and thin sheets of red satin."

He was cornered and he knew it. And kinda liked it. "You don't think I just brood out here, d‘ya?" he teased.

She chewed down upon her lip, something that had always turned him on incredibly. "Well," she started mischievously. "I happen to have lots of scarves and gloves in my room. So...if you wanted to turn fantasy into reality..."

He threw his cigar into the lake and pulled her to her feet. Three times they had touched. Three times he had brought her back to him. He smiled deep inside.

Three times the charm.

"You betcha, darlin'. Let's get those creative juices flowin'."

She made a face and smacked his ass but didn't protest when he scooped her into his arms and headed back for the mansion.