Two weeks. That's all it took. Two weeks, and she was lost.

Two weeks of fumbled excuses. Reasons not to touch. Reasons not to kiss. Long evenings of awkward silences before Bobby had finally, quietly, spoken the truth.

She could remember his guilt ridden eyes as he turned away. He was so sorry, so goddamned sorry, that he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. She was no longer safely untouchable, that was what he had told her. He had been forced to confront his feelings. It was no longer what he wanted.

She had blinked softly as his words washed over her, the only reaction shown upon her face, while inside she felt something clench tight within her chest, and squeeze until all emotion was rung from her. Leaving nothing. An empty shell.

He was so worried about hurting her, that she had ended up comforting him. How surreal was that? So ashamed about his feelings for Kitty that she had slipped an arm around his shoulders and told him in her lilting accent, that is was okay. That she would be fine.

But she wasn't fine.

She didn't cry until after he had left. She had sat alone on the edge of her bed, smoothing down the sheets with a hand that felt far too naked in the cool brush of the evening air, wondering how everything had changed so quickly, without warning.

Maybe she had just ignored the signs. The way he had held Kitty's hand after the funeral, the stupid frozen pond. The far away look she sometimes caught on his face when Kitty smiled at him. No one had ever looked at her like that.

She felt lost. Set aside from everyone else, like a spare part.

That had been two weeks. Two weeks after waiting in line all night on a cold, gritty street for a cure that had made her sick to the pit of her stomach, before it had ripped away a part of her.

After Bobby's rejection she had drifted in a state of limbo. She was no longer Rogue, but Marie was too far away for her to grasp. Oh, she smiled at jokes, spent evenings with friends, but under the surface she was lost to both worlds. No longer mutant, but not quite human.

It was four months before the affects of the cure began to dissipate.

Four lonely, drawn out months before that all too familiar draw of power began to haunt each touch, each brush of a hand against her skin.

Bitterly she fought it, focusing her will, venting her frustration and anger within the walls of the Danger Room, her tears hidden from the eyes of others. Of friends that would wish to help. Of those who had sneered at her decision to take the cure. Of those who pitied her. But it made no difference in the end. Four months, and once again, she was trapped by her skin.

It was eleven months before Logan returned.

She heard the low rumble of the motorcycle as it roared up the drive, the gravel crunching loudly in the quietness of the early morning. And the mornings were quiet these days.

She knew it was him right away. The part of him that was still inside her head awoke and growled at her bitterness, but she was getting good at suppressing personalities. She remembered the way he had refused to speak to her after Jean's death, the way he had taken off again as soon as the funeral was over, and she buried him with the others, deep within her mind where she would no longer have to listen.

She dressed, drew on her dark, elbow length gloves and headed for the Danger Room, where she could fight and train until nothing else had space to occupy her thoughts. Those that she passed on her way looked at her oddly as she fixed her expression of aloof calm to her face and walked on, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

So he had returned. It made no difference to her life.

He didn't try and find her until the evening.

Hunched as she was, deep within the comfy arms of one of the library chairs, she did not notice him until he was almost directly behind her.

'Hey kid.'

She looked up from her book. 'Hey.' He looked tired, if that was at all possible.

'You been holing out here all day?'

The book was placed down carefully at her feet. 'Can I help you with something, Logan?'

A slightly raised eyebrow was the only response she got to her cool indifference. 'Thought you might like to get outta here for a while. Came to take you out for a drink.'

'Thanks for the offer, but I have other stuff to do.' It was a lie, and she knew it showed plainly on her face.

'It wasn't an offer darlin, said I came to take you out. You can either walk out beside me, or I can haul you over my shoulder. Your choice.'

She shot him a glare, but got up all the same. He strode out of the room ahead of her, leaving her trailing him reluctantly through the corridors of the mansion, and out to the brightly lit garage.

He headed directly for his bike, swinging his leg casually over before handing her the spare helmet. He cocked his head to indicate she should get on behind him.

She frowned, but obeyed, and as the engine growled to life, she wrapped her arms around his thick leather jacket, breathing in the scent of smoke, outdoors and something that was undeniably him. He felt so solid, so real.

It made no difference that he was back. None at all.

He did not head into the city. Instead he drove in the opposite direction, down long quiet roads, lanes that stretched endlessly onwards and seamed to lead to hidden places set apart from the real world. She didn't question his choice until he skidded to a halt.

She fumbled with her helmet as he flicked off the headlights, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the night. Grunting an instruction that she should follow him, he led her through the moonlit dark, his heightened senses seeing far more than she could in the fuzzy blackness. After a while he reached a grassy outcrop and she stopped beside him. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance.

'Thought you said we were going for a drink?' she said eventually.

He pulled a bottle of vodka from his jacket and grinned. 'Didn't lie,' he said, unscrewing the top before handing the bottle over to her.

She took it cautiously. It smelt strong, and slightly warm. She raised it to her lips and drank, feeling it burn her throat on the way down. She couldn't prevent the choking gasp escaping her.

She was grateful he had the sense not to laugh.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she passed the bottle back, and watched him take a long, deep draft.

'You're supposed to be driving,' she accused.

He grinned before passing it back her way. 'Healin factor, darlin. Don't get drunk. Not unless I make a real effort.'

She sat down on the soft grass, took another mouthful and grimaced. 'So,' she looked up at him speculatively. 'Why all this? Why are you back?'

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. 'It was time.' He sat down beside her, casually stretching out his legs in front of him. 'I was headin back this way, Storm mentioned you were havin some trouble-'

'So she asked you to come back to try and sort me out?' she cut in. 'I don't want your help. I don't need another guy trying to be my big brother – Bobby does a fine enough job these days.'

'I aint tryin to fix you Marie.'

'Really?' she snorted, the alcohol already going to her head. ''cause you'd be the first.'

He tried to take the bottle away from her, but she batted his hand away angrily. What right did he have, to come stalking back here after all that time, as if nothing had happened. She hated that he could be so unaffected. So unchanged.

All credit to him, he tried again. 'You don't need fixin, kid. There's nothin wrong with you.'

She gave him a look that was lost somewhere between hurt and disbelief. 'My skin kills people, Logan. Or have you been away so long you forgot?'

He flinched a little at that one, and she basked in a momentary grim sense of satisfaction. But instead of growling a reply, he reached out and took the bottle away from her, then took her hand with his own.

She stared down with a frown, watching as he pulled her glove down her arm, pinching it gently off her fingers, with more finesse than she would have credited him with. He dropped it beside her, and laced his rough fingers through hers.

She froze; her heart was hammering in her chest. The few seconds of contact before she felt the pull stretched out in front of her, and for a blissful moment she remembered what it was like to be normal. Then she heard his sharp intake of breath, and a rush of his thoughts and memories hit her.

He had returned to Canada. He had fought, drank...

She pulled her hand sharply away. 'I'll hurt you.'

He had missed her.

'You can learn to control it,' he growled.

'I've tried, I can't.' Her voice wavered unsteadily.

He reached for her again.

'Logan, stop.'

'You can control it.'

'Stop it,' she cried. 'Please Logan. Stop!' This time she couldn't prevent the tears that spilt down her cool cheeks. They were treacherous tears, and she hated herself for crying in front of him. She hated crying in front of anyone, but this was worse. She didn't want his pity.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. His jaw clenched, and for a moment he looked as though he was fighting the urge to drive his claws into the ground. But then he turned away, and unscrewed the metal cap instead, swigging another mouthful of vodka. He gazed down at the city below, as she wiped her eyes with the hand that was still gloved, making the soft material damp against her skin.

He didn't look at her. 'So that's it. You just gonna give up? Just like that?' For a moment she thought he was gearing up to argue with her, but then to her surprise he just shrugged. 'Fine. Suit yourself.'

She frowned, staring at the glove on the ground in front of her. 'You're not gonna try and convince me otherwise?'

'It's your choice,' he said. 'I aint gonna make it for you. But this is not the Marie I know. She would have put up a damn good fight.'

A flash of pain crossed her face. She looked away and mumbled something too quiet for even him to hear.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigar, then fumbled around his pockets for some matches. 'You gonna repeat that, kid, or was it not worth knowing?' he said, as he held a flame to the end. She could smell the bitter smoke as it curled into the air around him.

'I'm not a kid.' She fixed him with a look. 'And I said what would be the point anyway?'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Meanin?'

'What's the point in being able to touch, when you have no one to touch?' Her voice trailed off. 'I've got no one, Logan.'

'You sure about that, darlin?'

'Bobby's gone, Scott's dead, the Professor's dead, even you went away.' She laughed bitterly, wiping away tears that refused to stop. 'Yes I'm sure.'

He growled softly. 'Well now I'm back.'

'Ha!' she almost snorted with that one. 'What difference will that make? Besides, you'll be off again before the month is out. You forget I know you.' She pointed a bare finger to her temple. 'I've got you up here.'

That at least seemed to make him uncomfortable. 'Sayin what?'

'Don't get attached. Stay apart from people, move on. That's what you do isn't it Logan. You drift. You'll be around for a few weeks, maybe longer, but eventually you'll get that itch.'

When he didn't reply, she turned her gaze back to the city below them. It looked so peaceful from up here, a glittering of bright lights and dark shapes. But it was just an illusion.

'You know I'm right,' she said softly. She picked up her glove and slid the material back over her hand, pulling it up to the fold of her elbow. 'Can we go home now?'

He stubbed out his cigar without looking at her. 'Sure, kid.' He pocketed what remained of the drink, and led the way back to the moonlit bike.

The ride back was an awkward one. It was as if a giant rift had opened up between them, one that had never been there when she was younger. Her mind was a tangled mess of vodka and thoughts of what should have been. He said nothing, just drove back much faster than he should have done.

Once parked, he helped her off the bike. She took off the helmet and smoothed through her hair.

His mouth quirked at the streaks of white. 'Still got the stripes then,' he said, tucking a strand behind her ear. Then he paused, as if he was about to say something more, his hand hovering by her head.

She frowned. 'What?' she asked softly.

His eyes darkened. They flickered down to her mouth, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe. Then they travelled back up to meet hers again. She felt her face flush with heat.

'I meant what I said, Marie. I'm back, and this time I'm stickin around.'

He was so close. So close that she could taste the cigar smoke on him. Her heart was thudding in her chest and in her ears, so loud that she was sure he must be able to hear it. But then he turned, abruptly, and headed back out of the garage, leaving her standing alone.

She leant against the bike for support, pulse still racing, wondering what the hell had just happened.

It made no difference that he was back, goddammit. No difference.

She did not sleep well that night. Or the next night for that matter. The weather was too damn hot and her dreams were filled with long heated glances and guilty thoughts that made her blush when she bumped into Logan during the day. Not even Bobby had made her feel like...like what exactly? She couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. Even the Danger Room did not have the same sense of escape. Her skin was crawling with the need to touch, the need to *be* touched, so much so that she would spend hours in the shower, just to feel the water running over her.

On the third evening after his return, he sought her out again.

She was hidden away in her room, reading one of Jubilee's magazines that she had stolen while the rest of her friends were at the Mall. When the knock came, she opened the door, fully expecting a demand to return it.

'Oh,' was all she could say, when she realised it was Logan. She swallowed nervously, wondering if he could read what she had dreamt about last night. She was sure it must be clearly written across her face.

'I…um…uh…what do you want Logan?' Her cheeks reddened as she realised she was stammering.

He just stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, the glint in his eyes mocking her. He was enjoying this, the bastard.

He gave her a wolfish grin. 'I've got somethin for you.'

'Logan, I don't want-' she began, but he didn't listen. He pulled one of her gloved hands into his own and propelled her in front of him along the corridor.

She wasn't stupid. She knew the direction in which they were headed.

His room.

She hadn't been in there since the night he had stabbed her.

The door was propped open with a chair when they entered, but he kicked it aside and it closed behind her with an air of finality. She stood awkwardly by it, unable to step further into the room, painfully aware of his presence in front of her.

He frowned. 'You just gonna stand there? I aint gonna eat you Marie.'

That bought a flood of images to mind. None that he had intended, she was sure. Or maybe she wasn't so sure. Her mind was spinning and he was grinning at her in a way that told her he knew exactly what he had meant.

Her feet remained firmly frozen to the carpet.

Eventually he reached out and pulled her forwards, away from the door. Her hands trembled as he caught one of them between his own. She could feel his warmth even through her glove.

She refused to look at him. `What am I doing here?' she asked, staring at the way his hand was sliding up her arm. Her voice cracked a little when she spoke. 'Logan?'

'Look at me,' he growled softly.

Her stomach spiralled at the darkness of his voice. Her eyes dragged slowly upwards, afraid of what she might see. Then she was lost in the heat of his gaze as his fingers took hold of the top of her glove and pulled it gently down, leaving her arm feeling naked and vulnerable in its wake. The material dropped unnoticed to the floor.

He slid his fingers in between hers, and she instantly stiffened, waiting for the pull to come.

Only this time it didn't.

Her forehead creased into a deep frown. 'I...I don't understand.' He ran a hand slowly up her bare arm, before trailing back to her fingers. 'What...?' her voice trailed off in disbelief.

He gave her a crooked smile, running his touch across her soft palm. 'New house guest darlin,' he said. 'Leech needed a safe place to stay.'

'Leech…?' Her brain was only working on one level at the moment, and it wasn't one that was good for making sense of things.

'The mutant they used to make the cure.'

'He's here?' Her own voice sounded distant. Her eyes were caught on the way his fingers were sliding firmly over her own.

'Yep. He's gonna be stayin here a while, darlin. We thought it best he was kept away from the dorms, seein as the effect he has on other mutants, but no one was keen to have him next door. So I volunteered. Figured I could cope with the loss of my powers without too much damage. Plus, the experience does have some benefits…'

The heat was back again, his eyes dark with it, and she thought she might drown in them. Without thinking she pulled her hand free from his and reached up to his face. 'I can touch?'

She didn't wait for an answer. Instead she drew in a shaky breath and touched her soft fingers gently to the furrows that creased his forehead, then moved her hand around so that her palm grazed across his cheek and her fingers slid into the edge of his course hair.

A smile of amazement slowly spread across her face. 'Logan...' she whispered.

He closed his eyes as her thumb lightly brushed the stubble on his jaw, his breathing slightly ragged. He turned his head so that his lips pressed against her palm. He kissed it softly, before taking her hand in his again, drawing her closer.

His gaze shifted from her eyes, down to her lips, and she licked them nervously, causing a low growl to rumble from deep within his chest. A hand that was running over her shoulders tangled almost roughly in her hair, tilting her head so that it was inches below his own.

'Tell me to stop darlin,' he growled softly.

But she couldn't tell him anything. She had long ago lost the ability to speak.

She felt his warm breath graze her cheek. Her eyelids drifted shut, nostrils flaring slightly as she breathed in the scent of him. Without realising she pulled him fractionally closer.

It was enough.

He gave a low groan and then the heat of his mouth came crushing down on her own, his lips demanding all that he wanted.

All coherent thought was lost. Desire lashed through her veins, flooding her with sensation as his mouth took hers. Her lips opened beneath his, melting against him as his tongue stroked against hers. She became very aware of all the places her body pressed against his. Her breasts, her thighs, his hand on the small of her back, moving lower, pressing her closer against the hardness of his chest, against the hardness of his...Oh god...