“Ante up.”

Logan threw some bills into the center of the table as Azazel took over dealing. He narrowed his eyes, squinting past the smoke of his cigar so he could watch Azazel’s red clawed hands closely as they flicked the cards down on the green felt. That bastard would cheat you as soon as look at you.

He smelled the girl just in time, the scent of cheap perfume and hairspray alerting him right before she wound her arm around his chest from behind. Goddammit, even the coked-up party girls in this place should know better than to sneak up on anyone -- especially him. She was lucky she didn’t get clawed.

“Is there something I can get for you, Wolverine, baby?” Her attempt at a seductive purr, but it buzzed in his ear with the irritating whine of a fruit fly

He shrugged her off in irritation. “‘Nother beer.”

“Anything else?” Her hand snaked towards his groin, and he grabbed her wrist.

“Just the beer,” he growled.

She yanked her arm free with a pout. Dammit, not only had she pulled Logan’s concentration off Azazel as he dealt the cards, but now they had attracted attention he didn’t want. From the corner of his eye he saw Sebastian Shaw rise lazily from the couch to make his way over to the table.

Shaw put a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder, holding her in place as his icy blue eyes narrowed on Logan’s. “Does Melinda displease you, Wolverine?”

Logan felt his pulse speed up, the claws itching in his forearms as he concentrated on keeping his face impassive. He took another puff on his cigar and traded in two of his cards before answering.

“Don’ like distractions when I’m playin’.”

Melinda tried to sidle away, and Logan saw the knuckles of Shaw’s hand whiten as he tightened his grip painfully on her shoulder, forcing a startled yelp from her. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen you avail yourself of any of my girls, Wolverine. Don’t tell me all those stories I’ve heard about you were exaggerated?”

Fuck. Logan threw his cards face up on the table. “Lousy hand,” he growled, before turning his attention back to Shaw. He leaned back in his chair and smiled wolfishly. “I can get a little rough sometimes. Didn’t want to damage your property, Shaw.” He snapped out the claws on one hand in emphasis, as Melinda whined in fear.

Shaw’s lips quirked humorlessly. “Such a polite guest, Wolverine. I would not have expected it of you. But you don’t have to worry. My girls are accustomed to pain. Isn’t that the case, Melinda?”

The girl’s white-rimmed eyes darted between Logan and Shaw before she finally managed a whimpering nod. At the edge of his vision Logan saw Emma Frost lean back on the couch, throwing her head back with a slight moan. Now there was a crazy bitch who got off on pain and fear. Poor Melinda was a babe in the woods compared to these two.

Logan stood up, his eyes steady on Shaw’s, trying to keep the aggression out of his stance without displaying deference. He was walking a fine line with Shaw -- he was not quite an outcast among the motley crew of mutants Shaw had gathered at his country mansion, but he was definitely not one of the trusted inner circle. “Fair enough.”

He dragged the blunt edge of a claw slowly down Melinda’s cheek, and she shivered in fear. “I’ll catch you later, darlin’,” he drawled.

Shaw held on to the girl for a few moments longer than he needed to, just to show his power, and then released her. She scuttled away, the imprint of Shaw’s fingers turning from white to red on her collarbone.

“You wanna be dealt in, Shaw?," Logan asked levelly. The poker game had come to a standstill as the players watched the little drama unfold.

“No, by all means, carry on without me.” His cold blue eyes remained steady on Logan’s, examining him as if he were a specimen under a microscope. “And enjoy yourself with Melinda tonight, Wolverine.”

Logan nodded curtly, picking up his cigar and resuming his seat at the table. He accepted the new hand of cards, pretending to focus on the game while all his senses were actually trained on Shaw and Emma Frost, murmuring together on the couch as they watched him.

Dammit, he had known he was under suspicion. Whether it was his adamantium-coated skull or his fractured memories he was, as Xavier had hoped, resistant to Emma’s telepathic probing. He should have been playing the role of the Wolverine to the hilt to allay their suspicions, but some part of him had held back. He had gotten fuckin’ soft working for Xavier, teaching at that damned school this past year, that’s all there was to it. Maybe he had been pretending to be a good guy so long he had even convinced himself.

Well, that would get him exactly nowhere on this mission. Shaw didn’t want a good guy, he wanted the Wolverine, and if it helped Logan win his trust that’s exactly who he was going to get. Sorry, Melinda.

__________________________________________________

Logan threw open the window to his room, letting in the cool night air. He had showered the smell of Melinda off his body, but the room still reeked of her. He didn’t know which was worse, the smell of her initial fear, or the stench of her relief when she realized he wasn’t really going to hurt her much. Both reminded him sourly of the animal inside him, the rough beast that these girls feared even as it turned them on.

He had let her go with a few carefully placed and highly visible marks -- the imprint of his fingers on her jaw, a scrape of his teeth on her neck -- and a fuck just rough enough to make her happy in the end. Hell, she had enjoyed it more than he did -- his own release had been bitter and unsatisfying.

He pulled the coverlet off the bed, wadding it up into a ball in the corner of his closet and kicking the closet door closed. Finally the air in the room seemed to be clearing, the choked feeling in his lungs diminishing. The feeling of shame -- once so familiar and now unaccustomed -- curled in his belly. Cheap women, free booze, easy money, and rough characters...a few years ago he would have been as happy here as a pig in slop. Now, however, being forced to play this role twisted his gut.

He remembered something he had said to Jean in his first few months at Xavier's. "I can be the good guy."

He had just been flirting with her, smirking as he said it. Once spoken, however, the words had hung in the air between them with an earnestness Logan had not meant to convey. He had self-consciously cleared his throat, embarrassed by the naked hope he had revealed, but Jean had simply looked at him, all her amused irritation at his flirting gone.

"Yes," she had said solemnly. "I think you can be."

Jean. That was something to focus on. If he won access to Shaw's inner circle it would justify any number of unsavory things the Wolverine might have had to do to get there.

He stood at the open window, careless of his nakedness, breathing in the night air and thinking about how he had ended up here.

_________________________

Two weeks earlier:

Logan looked around the table at the faces of the people he was starting to think of as friends. Xavier appeared thoughtful, his brilliant mind already apparently working through the potential risks and rewards of the reckless proposal. Hank looked concerned, and Ororo simply stunned.

With reluctance, Logan finally turned his gaze to Scott. As was usual lately, the empty husk of a man seemed to stare dully back at him. When Jean had suddenly disappeared while shopping a month earlier, Scott had responded with frenzied, feverish activity -- hunting down leads, chasing the flimsiest hunch, barely sleeping or eating. As time stretched on and the leads dwindled down to nothing, however, Scott's manic energy had faded into a blank hopelessness.

"How could you think of leaving, Logan? We need you more than ever now that..." Ororo trailed off awkwardly with a surreptitious glance at Scott. "We need you more than ever now."

"It is a considerable risk you would be taking, Logan," Xavier stated calmly. "We do not know the extent of Sebastian Shaw's powers, but there is no denying that he is one of the most powerful mutants I've ever sensed."

"Not to mention that your presence here has not exactly been a secret," Hank added, his furry brow wrinkled with concern. "Shaw may have approached you through old contacts looking for the Wolverine, but he may yet find out that you have become one of us. Assuming of course that he doesn't already know, and that his invitation isn't simply a trap..."

"And you are one of us," Ororo interrupted, a sharp edge to her voice. "Aren't you?"

Logan felt the frustration rising up in his chest. “Dammit, ‘Ro, of course I’m one of you,” he snapped. He didn’t want to say it, but he knew he had to. He looked to Xavier, who nodded almost imperceptibly. The words felt like stones as he forced them out of his mouth. “What if Shaw knows what happened to Jeannie?”

Just as he had feared, he saw Scott’s whole frame suddenly animated by a wild hopefulness, his hands trembling with expectancy as he leaned forward over the table. “Do you really think so?”

Logan had to look away, almost preferring the numb husk to this naked display of emotion. He hated the idea of toying with Scott’s hopes like this, but the possibility was there. “It’s a long shot,” he finally said. “But we know from Cerebro that Shaw has been gathering powerful mutants to his country house. He must want ‘em for something, and now he wants me. Or at least he wants the Wolverine. He’s already got one telepath, Emma Frost. Maybe he wanted another, and something went wrong. Or maybe there’s no connection, but we don’t exactly have a lot of other places to look, do we?”

Scott’s mouth flattened into a grim line at this harsh assessment of the situation. “She’s not dead,” he insisted for the hundredth time. “I would know. I would feel it.”

“Of course she’s not dead,” Ororo agreed gently, her eyes bright with tears. She reached out and squeezed Scott’s hand. “But if Charles can’t find her with Cerebro, that means someone has her, and they’re keeping her somehow. Drugged, unconscious...something. So maybe Logan’s right. Maybe this is the guy.”

“We need to be clear on what we’re getting into,” Logan continued. “The risk is not just for me. If Shaw does find out that I’ve been here at the mansion for the last year, it could draw his attention here. And I don’t know what that would mean.”

He looked around the room, seeing only a firm resolve in the faces of his teammates.

“But why you?” Hank asked. “All this trouble to contact you...why does he want the Wolverine?”

Logan had searched his own mind for the answer to that question with no success. “I don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out.”

_________________________

Logan sighed, resting his head wearily against the window frame, letting the cool night air wash over him. For two weeks he had been at Shaw’s country mansion while time ticked away for Jeannie, and he was no closer to any answers. Shaw’s motives for anything -- let alone for wanting Wolverine here -- were still a mystery.

He suddenly lifted his head, sniffing the air. There it was again...that strange, enticing scent. Faint traces of it had haunted him -- always elusive, never traceable. It smelled like sunshine and rain and sweet grass, and he knew it was none of the women he had seen at the mansion so far. He leaned out the window, eyes searching the grounds, but could see nothing out of place. The breeze caressed his face, and instantly the scent was gone.

He growled in frustration, falling onto the bed and closing his eyes, his thoughts roiling with helpless fury. And then finally he slept, dreaming unaccountably of sunshine and rain and sweet grass and a woman who was always just out of reach.

Logan followed a trail toward the western edge of Shaw’s property. He had woken at dawn, strangely refreshed, the barest memory of a dream tickling at the edge of his mind. Something about that enigmatic scent, and the woman it belonged to. Suddenly filled with a fierce restlessness he had let himself roam, enjoying the burn in his muscles as he found his way out to a previously unexplored area of Shaw’s land.

Damn, the grounds of what Shaw called his “country house” could give the Xavier mansion a run for its money. Logan’s lips quirked in amusement at the thought of the two men comparing the size of their...estates. Of course Shaw only had a helipad and not a whole hidden jet hangar, so Chuck had him there.

Logan’s amusement suddenly vanished. There it was again...that scent, but stronger than ever. Fresh, even. His attention sharpened, pulse quickening and feral senses coming to the forefront as he increased his pace, inhaling deeply as he padded silently down the path.

He topped a rise and was surprised to find the scent and sound of horses. A small stable nestled in the vale between two hills, a beat-up old Ford pickup pulled up in front.

Logan found himself smiling involuntarily. He liked horses. Being around the big warm-hearted animals soothed him somehow, and when Xavier had convinced him to give it a try he had been surprised to find that riding came as naturally to him as walking.

The last thing he needed was to be caught sneaking around. He walked openly into the stable yard, but it seemed deserted. He pushed open the stable door, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dimmer light as the smell of horse and hay tickled his nose. A gray gelding whickered softly from a stall on his right, and Logan absently rubbed his nose. The gelding nuzzled closer, his rough wet lips searching Logan’s palm for a treat.

“Sorry, bub. I got nothin’ for you.” The horse’s snuffling did not entirely mask the gasp of surprise from a stall at the end at the sound of his voice. Logan waited, giving her time to emerge, but everything was silent and still. He smiled to himself. He knew she was there, that amazing fresh clean scent of her was crisp in the air even among the stable smells.

He took his time, greeting the other horses as he ambled slowly down to the end stall. He stood outside the stall door, just drinking in that alluring scent for a minute before looking in.

For a moment he was surprised, thinking he had been mistaken. The stall seemed empty. Then he caught the sound of the slightest breath. He leaned even further over the half-door of the stall and saw her, flattened against the front wall, her eyes shut tight, apparently trying to make herself invisible.

“We playin’ hide ‘n seek?”

Logan chuckled out loud as she jumped, her eyes springing open, color pinkening her cheeks. His amusement faded, however, as she scrambled away, backing up along the wall until she was as far away from him as she could get at the other side of the stall. That alluring scent of her was tainted now with fear.

His eyes swept over her assessingly. Damn, she looked as enticing as she smelled. She was younger than he had expected, maybe in her 20’s. Slender but with lush curves, dressed for riding in jeans, a button-down shirt, and thin leather gloves. Her ivory skin was tinged by her blush, and auburn hair with two unusual white streaks fell around her shoulders.

As he looked her over, she reached for a riding crop on the wall, pulling it off the hook and gripping it tightly in her gloved hand. Damn, she sure was jumpy.

“Relax, darlin’. I’m a guest of Shaw’s.”

Her deep brown eyes narrowed, as the scent of her anger rose to eclipse the scent of fear. She held the riding crop in front of her defensively.

“I’m familiar with Sebastian’s guests,” she stated, her voice low and husky with a hint of a Southern drawl. “So forgive me if I don’t find that reassuring.”

He smothered a smile at her sassiness. “Fair enough,” he said, taking care to keep his voice neutral. He leaned back, still keeping his elbows on the stall door, and the tenseness of her posture seemed to lessen a bit. He watched as her pulse seemed to steady, her breath evening out as she realized he wasn’t going to harm her.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he ventured. He had marked her use of Shaw’s first name. “You work for Shaw?”

“You could say that.” Her fear had dissipated, and her anger had faded to irritation at being cornered. He watched in amusement as she dusted off her jeans and tugged at the cuffs of her gloves, apparently trying to look like she had things to do in the empty stall. She carefully hung the crop back on the wall. Finally out of excuses, she looked back up at him.

Seeing the mischief in his eyes, she huffed in annoyance. She looked pointedly at the stall door he was lounging on, and then back at him. “Do you mind?”

He smiled lazily, not budging an inch. “I don’t mind at all, darlin’.”

She huffed again, casting her eyes up as if requesting patience from heaven above. He waited, watching her steadily, enjoying the display of temper. He liked a woman with backbone. She didn’t smell frightened of him anymore, but she seemed strangely reluctant to even approach the stall door. He had expected her to push past him, but she remained against the far wall, well out of reach. The ghost of a memory from his dream tickled his consciousness again, sending a shiver down his spine.

Suddenly her eyes grew wide, fear sharpening her scent even more strongly than before. Logan whirled around, claws snapping out involuntarily to face the threat. Sebastian Shaw was standing there, his face impassive as he watched them. He raised a sardonic eyebrow at the Wolverine’s reaction.

Logan sheathed the claws, cursing himself mentally for being so wrapped up in the girl that he hadn’t sensed Shaw’s approach. Damned careless of him. He couldn’t afford that kind of carelessness.

“Shaw,” he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Shaw’s pale eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Wolverine. I see you’ve met my wife.”

Logan’s eyes flew to the girl in startlement. Shaw’s wife? It was the first he had heard of Shaw having a wife, and she sure hadn’t seen fit to mention it. What kind of game was she playing?

The girl remained tense, color high in her cheeks, her mouth pressed in a grim line.

“Well, go on my dear. I’m sure we don’t want to delay your ride.” Shaw’s urbane voice had a ribbon of steel running through it, and the girl seemed to pale slightly. She walked slowly to the stall door, pulling it open. She edged carefully past Logan and both he and Shaw watched as she slung a saddle and gear over her shoulder before leading the gray out to the yard. The stable door swung closed behind her, and Shaw and Logan were alone.

“A beautiful woman, my Rogue.” Logan made a noncommittal grunt. He knew a minefield when he saw one.

“Unfortunately, she is quite shy,” Shaw continued. “She likes to keep her distance from the … social activities of the house.”

No kidding, Logan thought. The drinking, gambling, and whoring of Shaw’s guests didn’t seem like it would be her style. She hadn’t struck him as shy, though. Wary, but not timid.

“I hope you will understand her need for privacy.” Logan nodded. In other words, “Hands off.”

“Nice set-up you’ve got here,” Logan said, hoping to get back on steadier ground. He ambled over to the closest horse, scratching the bay mare behind her ear as she tossed her head in gratification.

“Do you like to ride, Wolverine?”

“Sure do.”

“Well.” Shaw came closer, and Logan noted that the mare shied away from him. Good judges of character, horses. “You are welcome to ride any afternoon.”

Message received. She rides in the mornings. “Thanks.”

The walked together out to the yard. The girl -- Rogue, Logan corrected himself, wondering what the hell kind of name that was -- was gone but her scent still lingered there.

He watched as Shaw slid behind the wheel of a low-slung sports car that couldn’t look more out of place in the dusty stable yard. “Would you like a lift back to the house?”

“Thanks, but I’ll walk it.” Shaw kept the car idling until Logan started down the wooded trail. He definitely seemed determined to keep the Wolverine away from his wife, and as hot as she was Logan didn’t think that jealousy entered into it much. Nor did he believe that the girl was hiding herself away, as Shaw had implied. No, for some reason Shaw wanted to keep his wife a secret, and Logan wanted to discover that reason.

It would be a dangerous game, sniffing around Shaw’s wife while simultaneously trying to get into his good graces. Logan let his thoughts luxuriate a little on Rogue -- how she had looked, and smelled, and the sound of that husky Southern voice. He scowled at the involuntary rush of arousal that flooded his body. Last thing he needed was to get stupid with lust while on this job. Dangerous.

_____________

Marie tightened her calves against the gray’s sides, guiding him deeper into the woods. She drank in the peacefulness of the dappled sunlight and fresh air, trying to let the tension out of her body.

Wolverine, Sebastian had called him. She had recognized him instantly as the man she had seen last night, standing naked at his window. Her attention had been arrested -- not just by his naked form, which had admittedly been pretty impressive -- but by the emotion evident in his face and frame. He had seemed troubled -- tormented even. Not the typical attitude of the callous, conscienceless mutants Sebastian usually employed.

And then today. The way he had acted was so unexpected. She had braced herself for aggression, or a lewd come-on, or both. Instead, he had been…teasing. Not in a bullying, cat-and-mouse way, but almost like he was trying to make her laugh. Charming. It had thrown her off balance.

And then those claws. What the hell was that? It was unlike any mutation she had ever seen. Metal blades, springing from his hands. It must hurt like hell.

She sighed, shaking her head to dismiss the errant thoughts. It didn’t matter who he was. He worked for Sebastian, and that was all she needed to know. Her life was a nightmarish tangle of complications as it was. She didn’t need to go looking for more trouble. Especially trouble with a deep, rumbling voice and golden hazel eyes that kindled something warm and unexpected in her belly...

The gray whinnied in protest as her thighs involuntarily tightened against his sides. “Sorry, sugar,” Rogue apologized with a pat to his neck, irritated with herself for letting her thoughts stray again. Trouble.

“Are you enjoying yourself here, Wolverine?”

Logan shrugged. “Not used to just hangin’ around. Think I might be on my way soon.”

No emotion showed on Shaw’s face, but Logan’s heightened senses perceived the slight increase in his pulse and the shortening of his breath. He wasn’t happy about that idea.

“I was hoping you would consider entering my employment. You can name your own salary. Within reason, of course.”

Here it was. All or nothing. Logan wasn’t getting anywhere on the outside, if he was going to get any answers he had to go deeper.

“I’m not takin’ your pay to stand around and look menacing, Shaw. You got plenty of guys for that. It’s a waste of my time.”

A line of tension appeared at the corner of Shaw’s mouth. Apparently that had been all that he had in mind for the Wolverine. At least for now. “I hadn’t realized that I was undervaluing your skills, Wolverine.”

Logan refused to rise to the bait. “Your security sucks. All you got is a bunch of guys and a bunch of cameras, and no one who knows what the hell they’re doing. You need someone to take that in hand. I can do that. It’d at least give me somethin’ to pass the time.”

Shaw regarded him in silence for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “An excellent idea. I will admit that my...special condition has made me less attentive to security issues.”

Logan snorted. It was true that Shaw’s ability to absorb energy made him invulnerable to most assaults, but that was no reason to get cocky. “I’m hard to kill too. Hard doesn’t mean impossible.”

Shaw’s lips twitched in displeasure, but he nodded graciously. “We have an agreement, then. I will be leaving for a few days. I look forward to reviewing your improvements when I return.”

Logan ignored the obvious dismissal. “I’ll need access to your current system. Schematics, shift schedules, background on your guys...”

Shaw pressed a button on his desk, and one of his flunkies instantly appeared. “The Wolverine will be taking a position as my Chief of Security, Davis. Get him anything he needs.”

He looked back at Logan. “Anything else?” Condescension was clear in his voice. Logan may have gotten deeper into Shaw’s systems, but he hadn’t made any great strides in winning his trust.

“Have a good trip, Shaw.”
_______________________________

Photographs -- she and Sebastian in a car, smiling at the camera. At a party, dressed in formal wear. She flipped a few more pages. Her in a wedding dress, smiling lovingly up at Sebastian as he held her hand. She focused on the face of that woman, that stranger, until it blurred into meaningless shadows and shapes. Rogue heard the scrape of the door too late. She looked up guiltily as Sebastian entered the room.

The disapproval was evident in his face, but he forced an insincere warmth into his tone that made her stomach turn. “Rogue, sweetheart. You know what the doctors said.” He pulled the album from her hands. “The more you force it, the worse things get. You need to relax. Did you take your pills?”

“Yes, Sebastian.”

He put the album carefully down on the table. Too late she realized he was already wearing his gloves. Quick as a snake, he grabbed her chin firmly in his hand, forcing her gaze to his. “Did you take your pills, Rogue?” She breathed in shallowly through her nose to control the wave of nausea at his nearness, trying to keep her eyes steady on his. She managed a nod.

He searched her eyes for another long moment, and then finally released her chin. “All right. Good. That’s my good girl.”

She swallowed, feeling a dull ache set in where he had squeezed her jaw.

“I’m going to be gone for a few days. When I come back, we will do another treatment.”

Her stomach did a another slow, lurching roll. “Sebastian, please. Not yet. It’s too soon.”

He reached out and smoothed her hair. “Sweetheart, you have to trust me. It’s helping you so much. Already I can see the difference.”

She knew she should just shut up, knew arguing would only make him angry, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I don’t want it. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Rogue.” His voice was razor sharp now, all pretense gone. “I know what’s best for you. Remember what happens when you disobey. Do you want the voices to come back again? To end up back in the hospital?”

She had known what he was going to say, but it still made her pulse race, her hands tremble. She swallowed down tears, hating the weakness in her body -- the weakness in her mind. “No, Sebastian. I don’t want that.”

He smiled, likely pleased as much by her incipient tears as by her words. “That’s right.” A finger under her sore chin now, tilting her face up to his, his voice that of a teacher explaining a lesson to a particularly dull student. “Who makes those voices go away, Rogue?”

She couldn’t look away from those cold blue eyes, couldn’t speak anything but the truth.

“You do.”

_________

Logan stayed up well into the night, looking over the documents he had been given. He hadn’t been surprised to see that Shaw had granted him access to the outer security arrangements, but the systems for Shaw’s own private areas were notably omitted. Shaw wanted to keep Wolverine around, but he wasn’t stupid. He had only given Wolverine access to the parts of his security he didn’t care much about.

Well, if this was a tryout, he’d just have to make the most of it. Shaw had plenty of security but it was, as he had said, inefficient and disorganized. Even more so, something was just a little off kilter about the security arrangements. Logan kept feeling like he was catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked at it directly it was gone.

Logan lay back on his bed, closing his eyes in frustration. Perimeter security, guard schedules, electronic gates...what was he missing?

He took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his mind, hoping the solution would come to him. As had been happening way too often lately, before he knew it his thoughts had wandered to Rogue. He had barely exchanged a few sentences with her, but somehow he felt like he knew her, knew the kind of person she was. How did someone like that end up with Shaw? It just didn’t fit. And why had her fear spiked when she saw Shaw...was she afraid of being found with Wolverine, or did she just hate her husband that much?

He sat up suddenly, his system jolted by the realization. That was what was strange about Shaw’s security. It wasn’t designed to keep intruders out. It was designed to keep someone in. Was that someone Rogue?

He lay back again, feeling his blood thrum in his veins. His instincts told him he was right, but logically it didn’t quite fit. She obviously had some degree of freedom around Shaw’s estate. And she hadn’t asked for any help. But then again she had no reason to trust him, or anyone around here for that matter.

He sighed. Maybe this was a flight of fancy on his part. Just because the girl smelled great, it didn’t mean she was some kind of angel. Shaw was filthy rich, and plenty of trophy wives despised their husbands. It didn’t mean they were prisoners, just greedy. He couldn’t help feeling that she was better than that, though. Different. Warm, and sweet, and sassy, and delicious...

Goddamn, Logan thought, as his body hardened in response to the direction of his thoughts. And dangerous. Don’t forget dangerous.

___________

Logan scanned the hallway outside Shaw’s private office. It was deserted, but there was always the danger of someone happening by. He had to move quickly. He had heard Shaw’s helicopter taking off at dawn. He had taken Emma Frost and two of his trusted henchmen with them.

Azazel had gone too -- apparently he had made a better transition from hanger-on to confidante than the Wolverine had. Logan had to doubt Shaw’s judgement there. Never had a devilish appearance been more appropriate -- Azazel seemed to want to stir up trouble wherever he went. He didn’t seem to care what happened, as long as it caused chaos and strife. Not the kind of person Logan would want on his team, so Shaw must have something in mind that needed Azazel’s special skills. Hopefully his office would hold some clues as to what they were up to.

Moving swiftly and stealthily, Logan came up to the office door, examining the lock. He snicked a claw out a few inches. The sensitive connection to the musculature of his hands and forearms allowed him to feel the pins as each one slid aside. A shady past had some benefits.

He pushed the door open and slid inside.

“Fuck!” he said.

“Shit!” Rogue said, looking up in shock from where she was rummaging through Shaw’s desk.

They were both frozen for a moment before Logan came to his senses, softly clicking the door closed behind him.

She stood up, feigning indignation, but he sensed the panic underneath. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I could ask you the same, darlin’.”

“This is Sebastian’s office.” Heh. A nice attempt at no answer at all.

“So you don’t mind if I tell him I saw you coming out of here, huh?”

Color rose high in her cheeks, and she dropped her eyes. She was no liar, that was for sure.

“Face it, darlin’, we’re equally busted here. Except I’m Shaw’s new Chief of Security, so I got good reason to rat you out.”

He casually sat down in the chair across the desk, and she sat back in Shaw’s chair abruptly, as if her knees were weak. She closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath before meeting his gaze again.

“Please don’t tell him.”

“Okay.”

She seemed startled by his ready agreement. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And?”

“And what, darlin’?”

She pressed her lips together in irritation. “And...what do you want in exchange?”

Interesting question. He spoke the words before he had even thought about it. “Ride with me.”

“What?” She was looking at him as if he were crazy.

“You ride in the mornings. I’ll come with you. That’s all. Maybe we could talk a little.”

She was already shaking her head. “I can’t. If Sebastian found out...I can’t take those kinds of chances. You can’t either. It’s insane. Why would you even want that?”

Her refusal made him even more determined. “Then just meet me. Just ride your normal route, and I’ll find you. As for why...maybe we can help each other out.”

She carefully stacked the papers she had been looking through and put them back in the drawer, obviously buying herself time. He noticed she was wearing gloves again, thin silk ones this time. Had she been scared of leaving fingerprints in her own husband’s office?

She shut the drawer carefully before meeting his gaze again. He read confusion in her eyes, and perhaps just a trace of...longing?...before she looked away.

“I don’t trust you,” she finally said, her voice low and husky.

“That’s okay. Just meet me.”

She took one more deep breath and then nodded, shutting the desk drawer. “I didn’t find what I was looking for, but maybe you will. Just lock up after yourself, okay?”

“Will do.”

He watched her stand at the door, listening to make sure no one was outside, before she ducked through, shutting it firmly behind her.

Logan shook his head for a moment, not sure if he had been more surprised by her actions or his own. Then he moved around to the other side of the desk and got to work.

Rogue guided the gray deeper into the woods, her thoughts in turmoil. She had almost decided not to ride today, had come close to turning the truck around a hundred times on the way to the stables, but some stubborn part of her insisted on seeing this through.

Now that she was here, though, her mind was a tumult of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Would he really come? Did she want him to? And most of all, what on earth did he want from her?

She was so consumed by her doubts and fears that she hardly noticed when it started. The barest whisper at the edge of her mind, like the brush of an insect’s wing, and then suddenly gone.

She pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a sudden stop. Please, no. Please...not now.

Her protest was useless. It started as a trickle and then quickly grew to a flood, more and more whispers seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere, rushing over her mind in a wave. One voice separated from the rest, a woman’s voice, shrill and venomous above the babble: “You bitch!”

“Rogue?” His gruff voice cut through the clamor, silencing the voices instantly.

Still dizzy from the onslaught, she jerked her head up, looking for him. Nothing but the sunlight and trees, and then suddenly he was there, stepping silently out from behind a tree trunk a bare few feet away. The dappled sunlight etched the planes of his face in sharp lines and shadows, his eyes hidden. She felt her hands jerk involuntarily on the reins at the same time her thighs tightened against the gray’s sides and the horse tossed his head, whinnying in aggravation at her conflicting cues.

The Wolverine took a step forward and the light caught his eyes, golden hazel and warm with concern. She suddenly felt the tension drain from her body. The look in his eyes seemed to kindle something within her, something that felt strangely like warmth, and safety...

The feeling was so acute she had to look away, patting the horse’s neck awkwardly. “It’s okay, sugar,” she whispered, feeling foolishly like she was talking to herself as much as the horse. “Settle down.”

She slid to the ground, still unable to meet his eyes. She started walking, leading the gray, and felt him fall into step beside her. She kept waiting for him to speak, but he seemed content to walk on in silence. She took in his appearance in quick sidelong glances. Sturdy boots, and blue jeans worn to velvety smoothness. A ridiculously large belt buckle. A white sleeveless undershirt, covered by a soft flannel shirt that seemed to hug his lean waist and broad shoulders. She risked a glance at his face, and realized by the amusement she saw there that he had been watching her look him over.

She stopped, forcing herself to face him despite the blush she felt rising in her cheeks. “I don’t know anything about Sebastian’s business.”

Confusion seemed to flash across his face briefly, and then he nodded. “Okay.”

Okay? That was it? “So what are you? Federal agent? Corporate spy?”

His lips quirked with amusement. “Do I look like either of those things?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be a very good one if you did.” She looked him over again. “You look like a lumberjack.” He laughed, and she couldn’t help smiling in response.

“You don’t seem too concerned about your husband being investigated.”

The smile fell from her face, and she started walking again. He was right. She didn’t feel any wifely loyalty toward Sebastian. If anything, she was glad someone else wanted answers. She had no idea how to even begin explaining, though, even if she trusted him enough to do so. Which she didn’t. “It’s complicated,” she finally said.

He nodded again, seeming to realize that he had pushed too far. “Well, I’m not a federal agent. And I’m not a corporate spy. You could call me freelance, I guess. If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, it seems to me that your husband is up to no good, and I’d like to know what it is he’s planning.”

She nodded. She wasn’t stupid, she had seen the type of characters Sebastian had been bringing to the country house. That horrible woman Emma Frost, and the other assorted ruffians who had been arriving by the day. They weren’t business types, they were thugs. “What do you think he’s doing?”

He shrugged, but she could see frustration in the tension of his body. “I don’t know. He doesn’t trust me much. I don’t even know why he wants me here, let alone what else he’s up to.” He stopped suddenly, his voice low and intense. “Rogue, a friend of mine is missing. I think Shaw may have had something to do with it. Have you heard anything that might be suspicious? Anything about someone named Jean Grey?”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t talk to me much,” she said bitterly. “And not at all about his business. I would tell you if I could.”

His eyes were warm again with concern. “Why are you with that guy, Rogue?” He reached a hand toward her face. She flinched away automatically, taking a stumbling step backwards, her back coming up hard against the horse’s flank.

He pulled his hand back, hurt and anger clouding his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying. “I...just don’t touch me okay? No one can touch me.”

She saw him take in a deep breath, getting his emotions under control, his expression assuming a mask of indifference she hadn’t seen before. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

She felt something twist in her stomach. She had ruined it. Their…connection, friendship...whatever it had the potential to be, she had destroyed it. How had she been so stupid as to think she could have something good -- anything good? She was toxic, and damaged, and crazy.

She looked away to hide her face from him, looping the reins back over the gelding’s neck. “I should get back,” she mumbled, and swung herself back up into the saddle.

“Rogue, wait.” He held the horse’s bridle firmly, shushing him when he whickered in protest. “Will you meet me tomorrow?”

Hope and frustration warred within her, causing her voice to come out angry and harsh. “Why? What do you want from me? What’s in this for you?”

He dropped the bridle and took a step back, tension evident in his body even though his voice was oddly hesitant. “I...nothing. I don’t know. I’d just like to see you again. Talk some more.”

Now she just felt ashamed. She was acting as unstable as Sebastian told her she was. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping a hand across her eyes. “I don’t...everything is so confusing. I don’t know if I can trust anyone. I can’t even trust myself.”

His eyes were kind again, and somehow that made it hurt even more. “What has he done to you, Rogue?”

She shook her head. “I have to go. I...I’ll ride tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here.”

_________________

Shaw traced his hand up Emma’s thigh. She moaned, spreading her legs a little wider. “Greedy slut,” he whispered.

She smiled, licking her lips. “You know you love it. Don’t tell me you’d rather have some timid, virginal creature...”

The smile dropped from her face as she flushed with anger. “You bastard! Don’t you dare think of her when you’re with me.”

She lifted her arm to hit him, and he caught her wrist easily, roughly pulling it over her head. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his body. His other hand squeezed her breast brutally, causing her to moan again, bucking up into him.

“Don’t be so temperamental, darling. It was a passing thought. You know I feel nothing for that girl.”

She groaned into his mouth, nipping at his lips. “So prove it.”

He drew back, eyes narrowing on hers. “What are you asking, Emma?”

Her legs came up around his waist, pulling him harder against her body. She reached up to kiss him again, but he pulled back farther, waiting for her answer.

Her voice was shrill with malice when she spoke. “Stop treating her like your equal. Giving her the run of the house. Treating her like she’s made of glass. She is our plaything. I want you to hurt her. And I want to watch.”

His hand glided up her neck, thumb and index finger spread to encircle her neck, pressing lightly on her pulse points. “And how will the walls you built hold up under that kind of pressure, Emma?” Her angry eyes met his, but she had no response. “So you would undo all of our planning -- just from petty jealousy?”

He ground his body down into hers, pressing firmly on her neck, watching her anger transmute to passion in response to the pain and domination. She groaned into his mouth, melting underneath him. She truly was his match. “Don’t worry, darling. She is just our vessel. You, my darling...you are my queen.”

Logan lay awake in his bed, his mind restlessly turning over the interaction with Rogue so he could examine it from every angle. She had seemed to be opening up to him, and then suddenly...

Don’t touch me, she had said. The acute sense of rejection he had felt when she had flinched away from his touch had blindsided him with its intensity. Of course she doesn’t want you to touch her, he had thought. She knows what you are. The ever-present shame and fury he felt regarding his animal nature had welled up, causing the blood to roar in his ears and the claws to itch in his forearms.

But then she had seemed so inexplicably sad afterwards, the dejection and loneliness so clear on her face that without thinking he had caught the horse’s bridle. He couldn’t let her go like that, had been unable to let her leave before she promised to meet him again. And she had -- she promised to meet him again, even knowing what he was.

Now that he was able to think back about it more calmly, he felt like he was missing something important. Don’t touch me, she had said, but something else too, something he had been too hurt and angry to think about at the time. What was it?

No one can touch me. That was it. No one can touch me. Logan turned over in his bed, kicking at the sheets in aggravation as her words replayed in his mind. No one can touch me. What the hell did that mean?

___________________________________

Rogue lay awake in bed. She wished that she could just turn her mind off and sleep, but her thoughts drifted again and again to her meeting with the Wolverine. He had taken a big risk, trusting her with his confidences, and she had been unable to help him at all. Was he right about Sebastian -- could he be the kind of man who would actually kidnap someone, or hurt them?

She thought about the visceral reaction she had to Sebastian -- how she hated his nearness, how she looked at the photographs and could not believe that she had once loved and married him. Then she thought of the Wolverine. The strange juddering of her heart when he asked to meet her again. That feeling he kindled in her belly, of heat and safety and something more that she couldn’t even identify. And most of all his hazel eyes, warm with concern, as he asked the question that seemed to put into words everything that she suspected, and feared, and hoped. What has he done to you, Rogue?

Before now she had hardly dared to allow the thought in the privacy of her own mind, but the memory of Wolverine’s calm, steady presence seemed to have given her the strength. She thought it. Then she whispered it. Then she said it out loud, her voice hesitant at first, trying out the feel of the words, but gaining certainty with every repetition of the mantra.

“I’m not crazy. He did this to me. I’m not crazy. He did this to me...”

___________________________________

“Rogue?”

Rogue ducked her head, trying to hide the involuntary smile that spread across her face at the sound of his voice. She finally looked up as the horse came to a halt, and found him smiling too.

She saw his hands twitching at his sides, but he stayed a few paces away as she slid from the saddle. She started walking and he fell into step beside her again. She felt unaccountably light-hearted, her mood buoyant for the first time she could remember even despite her restless night.

“So what’s his name?” A gesture at the horse accompanied his words.

“Snowball,” she managed to say seriously. She watched the look of horror cross his expression, managing to hold out for a good ten seconds before the laughter got the better of her.

He chuckled as well. “Okay, you got me. What is it really?”

She sighed. “Sebastian named him. Bonaparte.” The Wolverine made another face, and she found herself smothering a giggle. “I know, I know. And the mare is Josephine.” She ran an affectionate hand over the grey’s nose, and he snuffled in appreciation. “I call him Bonny. You’re my bonny laddie, aren’t you boy?”

Wolverine snorted. “I think lasses are bonny, and laddies are braw. But I won’t tell him.”

She smiled again. “Better not.”

This time she tied the lead rope to a branch, giving the gray some apples to keep him occupied. Rogue and Logan walked in silence for a little while longer as she screwed up her courage to ask him.

“You asked...” she finally said.

“You said...” he started at the same time.

They both stopped awkwardly. Wolverine stopped walking, taking a step closer to her, and she fought the instinct to step back at his nearness. The warm bulk of him filled her vision, his gaze intent on her face. His voice was rumbly and deep when he spoke. “You said that no one can touch you. What did you mean?”

She ducked her head, fiddling with her gloves. She knew she had to tell him. He had already trusted her with so much. She took a deep breath. “It’s my mutation.” She managed a quick glance to his face, and the warmth and concern she saw there gave her courage to continue. The rest came out in a rush. “It’s my skin...I can’t let anyone’s skin touch mine. If I do...something really bad happens. I don’t know, I hurt them. Maybe even kill them.”

“That’s why you always wear the gloves.”

It wasn’t really a question, but she nodded. She started walking again, still reluctant to meet his gaze. “Sebastian says that I had control of it once. That I could stop it. But now it’s uncontrollable. He says I have to keep away from people. That I’m dangerous. And I know he’s right, but...” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he’s right about that.”

“What do you mean, he says that you had control of it once? Wouldn’t you know?”

She took another deep breath, shaking her head. “It sounds crazy,” she said. “It is crazy. But I don’t remember anything, not before a few months ago. Sebastian says that I’m traumatized. That I was in the city and someone tried to...to hurt me. Tried to...touch me, and my mutation...”

She felt the tears rising, and swallowed them down, wiping a hand across her face. “He says I killed him with my skin. And that when I did...I don’t know, that I couldn’t handle it and that’s why I don’t remember. The doctors say I blocked it out, and everything that happened before it.”

She stopped, taking another deep, shuddering breath. “All I remember is being in the hospital. And I was...messed up. Sebastian brought me here. He thinks he can make me better. And I should be grateful, I mean I am grateful, I hated it there in the hospital, but...”

She felt the long-suppressed anger welling up in her, bracing her. “I hate him.” The bitterness in her voice surprised her, and she clenched her fists, trying to get her emotions under control. “When he comes near me, I feel sick. I look at the pictures of us...when we were dating, at our wedding, and I can’t believe that I ever felt that way about him. It just feels so … wrong. But he’s taking care of me, and he’s been patient with me, and he’s trying to make me better, and I just don’t understand how it could have been so different before...”

She stopped, feeling self-conscious. “I’m babbling. You must think...I don’t know what you must think.”

He took a step forward, and she drew her breath in in shock as he took her gloved hand in his large, warm palm, clasping it tightly as she instinctively tried to jerk it away. His other hand came up, brushing her hair gently back from her face. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She felt something in her chest unclench. She had to close her eyes against the rush of relief. It felt so damn good to hear someone say that. To hear him say that. If only it could be true...but he didn’t know it all.

“I wish I could believe that. Sometimes I hope...but...” He squeezed her hand, his silent support helping her say the rest of it.

“I hear voices.” She laughed bitterly. “I know how that sounds...I know what that means. There’s no explanation for that that’s okay. It means something is wrong. That my mind is broken, like Sebastian says. And he does help, he makes it better. It just feels so wrong.”

Wolverine pulled her up against his side in a rough half-hug, before releasing her abruptly. She barely had time to process it -- how good it felt to be held by someone, pressed up against the solid heat of his body -- before he started walking again, still holding her hand. His brow was furrowed in thought.

“I can’t claim to know much about it,” he finally said. “But it seems to me that if you were really crazy, you wouldn’t know. You’d be too out of it to know that something was wrong. I don’t know why you’re hearing voices, or what it means. Or why you can’t remember. But I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Again, the relief washed over her, almost weakening her knees, causing her to stumble to keep up with his pace.

“You had asked me, yesterday...you asked what he had done to me. Do you think Sebastian could have done this to me?”

She heard a low rumble start in his chest as he considered her question, and she looked at him in surprise. “If he did, I’ll make him pay for it,” he growled.

She shouldn’t like to hear that as much as she did. That warm feeling Wolverine seemed to cause in her belly with his very presence flared higher. He was on her side, and that made everything seem less hopeless than it had felt for as long as she could remember.

“Wolverine...”

He interrupted her. “Logan,” he said.

She felt the smile spread across her face. It suited him as much as Wolverine did, and she could tell it was a mark of his trust that he shared it with her. “Logan. Thank you.”

He smiled back at her, raising a hand to her face before remembering and pulling it back. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Haven’t done anything yet. But I’ll try. And I think I know who can help.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Sebastian brought several doctors to see me. None of them had any solutions. They said the more I tried to force the memories, the worse it would get. They just kept prescribing pills that Sebastian wants me to take to calm me down, but I hate them. They make my head fuzzy. I’ve been flushing them when I can, and I feel so much better without them.”

Logan growled again. “I wouldn’t trust any doctor that Shaw comes up with. I know another doc that I trust, but the guy I’m thinking of is not a doctor. He’s a telepath.”

She stepped back instinctively. “I don’t want...like Emma?”

“Not like Emma,” he said emphatically. “That evil bitch? Don’t let her anywhere near you.”

She couldn’t help smiling again. Even from a distance she had noticed that most of the mutants in the house seemed to be lusting after Emma Frost. It was nice to hear that Logan wasn’t one of them.

“This guy...he’s a good guy. He’s helping me too. I used to not remember anything before about fifteen years ago. Just bits and pieces here and there, and nightmares.”

She looked at him in shock. “Really?”

He nodded. His mouth quirked. “I may be the only other mutant on earth who knows what that’s like. Just lucky, I guess.”

“And this guy helped you?”

“He’s been working with me. Some of it I’ll probably never get back. Some of it I kind of think I don’t want to know. But he’s helping. And maybe he can help you too.”

“I could pay him. Sebastian controls all the money, but I have jewelry...”

Logan snorted. “He’s richer than God. Don’t worry about it. And he’d want to help you.”

She felt dizzy with the possibilities. Knowing who she was, after all this time. Remembering how she had gotten into this relationship with Shaw. Maybe even how she could get out of it.

“I would like that. A lot.”

He nodded. “We’ll figure out a way to at least meet up and see what he can do. Will Shaw let you out of here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I tried to go out once. Just got fed up, and told him I was going, and he let me...but I didn’t even get past the gate. The voices came on, stronger than ever before, so strong I couldn’t even think. I had to pull over, and Sebastian came and brought me back. He said it’s too much strain on me to try again. All the doctors come here to see me.”

“He’s controlling you. You see that, don’t you?”

She closed her eyes in despair. “I know. He treats me like a child. But why? Why would he do all this for me if he wasn’t trying to help me? He could have just left me there in the hospital. Cut his losses, and divorced me. I’m not rich, or beautiful, or...anything. He doesn’t even...” She stopped, embarrassed, but forced herself to continue. “He doesn’t even try to -- to sleep with me. He says I just need to heal, and continue with the treatments.”

“Treatments?”

She sighed. There was another thing that made no sense. Why would Sebastian be helping her, at the risk to himself? “You know Sebastian’s mutation? That he absorbs energy?”

Logan nodded. “Makes him damn near invulnerable, from what I hear.”

“He says it’ll make me stronger, to take energy from him with my mutation. But it’s dangerous. He has to absorb a lot of energy first, almost more than he can handle, so that I can take from him without killing him. And he’s really weak afterwards, and it feels awful for me too. But it does help, the longer I go without it the more the voices come. And the treatments make them stop.”

She felt frustration wash over her, she had thought about this over and over and was never any closer to an answer. “Why would he be doing all this for me if he doesn’t mean well? I worry...I worry that I’m paranoid, that’s it’s part of my illness. I mean...what is the alternative? That it’s some elaborate conspiracy? The pictures, and all? I even forced him to show me the news clipping about the man I killed. He had...raped...other women. To say...to hope...that Sebastian made it all up -- that none of it is real? That sounds crazier than anything.”

Logan ran a hand over her hair again. She struggled not to press up into his touch as the warmth flared inside her. She had gotten used to it so quickly, craved these casual touches. He probably didn’t even mean anything by it.

“We’d better get back,” he rumbled. They started walking back. He appeared deep in thought again, and she liked that he didn’t just try to reassure her with platitudes. He really seemed to be trying to figure it out.

“I can’t explain it either,” he finally said. “But if I have to put my money on you being crazy or Shaw being up to something, I’d bet my life that he’s up to something. And we’ll figure out what it is.”

We, she thought, feeling foolish but liking the sound of that so much that she couldn’t help replaying it in her head. We.

“What’s the matter Wolverine? Too rich for your blood?”

“Must be.” Azazel was trying to stir up trouble again, and Logan refused to play into his game. He folded his hand and leaned back in his chair, lighting a new cigar.

Azazel had returned earlier in the evening alone, but whatever he had done for Shaw seemed to have gone well. He was radiating smug satisfaction, and his usual tendency toward troublemaking seemed to have intensified. For some reason, he seemed to be focusing his mischief-making on the Wolverine this evening.

“Ah, Melinda! Come sit on my lap, dear.” Azazel’s clawed red hand reached out and grabbed the girl, pulling her roughly onto his lap. Her hip bumped the table, sloshing the drinks as the players cursed and grabbed up their glasses. Azazel shot a challenging look at Logan, who simply raised his beer in a silent toast. Logan couldn’t help feeling a secret pleasure at Azazel’s obviously crestfallen reaction to his disinterest.

“Go get me another drink. There’s a good girl.” Azazel summarily ejected Melinda from his lap, ignoring her pout. “I’m surprised you’re still hanging around, Wolverine. I would have thought you would have been bored to death by now.”

Logan supplied a noncommittal grunt. Azazel’s eerie blue eyes snapped with anger.

“I expected more from the mighty Wolverine.”

Logan puffed on his cigar, blowing smoke casually in Azazel’s face. Look at that, he wouldn’t have thought the man could get any redder, but he managed.

“Right now the mighty Wolverine is mighty sleepy,” he drawled. “‘Night, all.”

Logan gathered up his cash and ambled from the table as the other players murmured their goodnights. He could feel Azazel’s cold eyes pinned to his back. Dammit, the man was a nuisance. One more wild card in this situation was more than he needed. He would have to watch his back more than ever.

He sighed, rolling the tension from his shoulders. He actually was tired. He’d sleep tonight, and in the morning he’d see Rogue again. He couldn’t help the smile that the thought of her brought to his face. Tomorrow night was his weekly call to Chuck, he could make arrangements then for the two of them to get out of this nest of vipers. It couldn’t be soon enough to suit him.

____________________


Rogue placed the saddle pad behind Bonny’s withers, smoothing it down. She hefted up the saddle, settling it on his back, and then patted his neck.

“We’re going to see our friend, my bonny boy,” she whispered. She pressed her forehead against the horse’s neck, hiding her smile against his velvety hide, and he whickered in response.

She pulled the cinch under his belly, starting to buckle it.

“So you’re the tasty morsel who has the Wolverine hieing through the woods at the break of dawn.”

She wheeled around. She knew he was one of Sebastian’s employees, his devilish appearance was unmistakable. His unearthly blue eyes gleamed with malicious intent.

“I want a taste too,” he taunted.

Rogue turned and ran for the stable.

____________________

Logan paced in agitation. She was late. Where was she? Had something happened? Had she changed her mind about trusting him?

He heard the horse’s hoofbeats, and was momentarily relieved. But no -- something was wrong. The horse was coming at a flat-out gallop.

Bonny burst through a cluster of trees, his white-rimmed eyes panicked, the saddle dangling half under his belly. Logan stepped in front of him and he reared back, kicking out with his sharp forefeet.

“Easy, boy. Easy.” Logan managed to soothe the horse enough to grab his bridle, trying to suppress his own panic. He snapped a claw out, cutting the cinch and pulling the saddle free. He rubbed the gray’s neck for a moment, trying to settle him more, feeling every second tick by.

Bonny calmed somewhat, finally standing still, sides blowing. “Easy now.” Logan vaulted onto the horse’s back. He felt the gray stagger a bit, accommodating to what must be five times the usual weight he carried. The horse steadied, though, and surged forward at the press of Logan’s knees.

Logan wheeled him around, giving him his head in the direction of the stable. “That’s a braw laddie. Go find her.”

____________________


Logan leaped from the back of the exhausted horse, looping the reins around the stable gate. The stableyard was deserted, but that enticing scent of Rogue hung in the air, tinged with her fear, and another familiar scent -- Azazel.

Logan felt the growl rising in his chest, claws springing free as he sprinted for the open stable door. He skidded to a stop, almost tripping over Azazel’s prone form as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. He tilted Azazel’s head up with his claw, not caring that he cut into the skin. He was breathing, but out cold. Four deep scratches ran down his left cheek.

He heard her unsteady breathing before his eyes found her, huddled in the far corner of the stable. “Rogue!”

His claws itched with the urge to gut Azazel where he lay, but she didn’t need to see that right now. He moved toward her slowly, trying to keep his posture nonthreatening.

“Rogue...darlin’...you okay? Look at me, baby. Please.”

She kept her head down, arms wrapped around herself, the curtain of her hair hiding her face. He could see her shirt was torn at the shoulder, and the rush of rage blinded him for a moment. He tamped down on it hard, moving slowly closer to her. She had one glove off, her fingernails bloody.

“Rogue...honey, look at me. Did he hurt you?” He reached out slowly, touching her hair, pushing the auburn and white locks back so he could see her face. She made a whimpering noise, but finally raised her eyes to his. Even in the dim light, he could see her eyes looked strange -- cloudy somehow, instead of the clear deep brown they usually were.

“Logan?” she said, her voice unsteady.

“Yeah darlin’, I’m here.”

“I don’t feel good.” An odd thwucking sound, a puff of acrid gray smoke that burned his eyes and nose, and suddenly she was gone.

“ROGUE!!,” he roared. He scrabbled forward, frantically reaching for he didn’t know what, finding only weathered floorboards and scattered hay where she had been.

Another thwucking sound from behind him, and he turned around. Rogue was huddled against the far wall, arms still wrapped around herself, shaking.

Her eyes were huge in her pale face as she raised them to his. “Logan...help me...”

He scrambled toward her. “Fuck, holy fuck, hold on darlin’...” He leaped over Azazel to get to her, and suddenly put it together.

“It’s okay...it’s okay darlin’...it’s what Azazel does.” Her eyes were dazed as he gathered her up into his lap, holding her tight, rocking her gently. “That guy -- that bastard over there -- he’s a...”

This time he didn’t even hear the sound, just a dizzying moment of nothingness and he was back in the corner of the stable, Rogue still in his arms, the smoke hazing his vision and singeing his nasal passages.

“Jesus, Rogue.” His stomach churned. If he never did that again it would be too soon. He wove his hand through her hair, the only way he could safely touch her, tilting her head up to his. “Look at me darlin’. Look in my eyes. That guy, you touched him right?” She nodded, but she still looked dazed.

He shook her a little. “Rogue, listen to me! Are you listening?” Her eyes cleared a little bit, and she nodded again. “That guy, he’s a teleporter. And now you’re teleporting. You’re controlling it, darlin’. So just...just focus, okay? I’ve got you. Just stay with me, okay? Concentrate on staying here with me.”

“Stay with you,” she repeated woodenly.

“That’s right, darlin’.”

She lifted a hand toward his face, and he saw her eyes widen in shock at her bare hand and bloody fingernails. “I touched him...” she said, with dawning horror, yanking her hand back.

The air around her seemed to shimmer a little, and he shook her again. “Rogue, no! Focus. Look at me. Look in my eyes. Stay here with me.” He grabbed her other hand, the one that was still gloved, and pulled it up to his face, pressing it hard to his cheek. “Stay with me.”

Her palm twitched against his cheek, and then her thumb moved, stroking up his cheekbone. “Logan,” she said, her voice steadier. Her eyes seemed clearer now, locked on his. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That’s right,” he said. “Just breathe. Breathe with me. Focus on...being solid.”

Her mouth quirked. He huffed out loud in relief, squeezing her tight.

“Okay, bad advice, I know. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

She shook her head, taking another deep breath. “No, it’s good advice. I think...I think I can do that. Focus on being solid. On staying here with you.”

“Good,” he said. “Good.”

She lowered her head to his chest, and he concentrated on trying to keep his breaths deep and even as she tried to match her breathing to his. He rubbed her back, holding her tightly, smoothing her hair. Slowly she seemed to settle. He felt her heart rate slow, the trembling easing.

“Did he hurt you, Rogue?”

She shook her head against his chest. “He scared me, and grabbed me, and I fought him, and then...I felt my skin start, and then it got really confusing after that. Except...”

“Except?...”

“It’s hard to explain. It felt like...I could see him there, unconscious, but he was still yelling at me. But in my head. Like he got in my head somehow. Until you told me to focus, and then it seemed like he went away.”

Logan’s brow furrowed in thought. “And you got his mutation. Did you know you could do that? Take someone else’s mutation?”

She shook her head again. “The only other person I remember touching is Sebastian, for the treatments. But I don’t think I get his mutation. And I don’t hear him in my head after. What do you think it means?”

He shook his head. “Fuck if I know. But I wonder if Shaw does.”

They sat there for a little while longer before she spoke.

“What should we do now?”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me gut that bastard...”

She lifted her head in alarm. “Logan, no! Who knows what kind of trouble that would cause. Nobody else knows you were here, and that’s how it should stay. I doubt he’s going to go running to Sebastian telling him what I did.”

He couldn’t suppress the growl that rumbled in his chest. “I’ll let him go for now, but once we’re both out of here, I can’t make any guarantees.”

They sat for awhile longer, and then she raised her head again. “Bonny...”

“He’s fine. I found him, and brought him back. I’ll go get him, if you’re okay here.”

She nodded. He didn’t want to let her go, but he forced himself to loosen his arms, and she took one more deep shuddering breath and got shakily to her feet. By the time he brought Bonny back to his stall and started rubbing him down she joined him. She had found her other glove and pulled it on, the normalcy of the routine seeming to calm her further.

They drove back to the house mostly in silence, Logan taking the wheel by unspoken agreement. He pulled over out of sight of the house. He looked her over. A shadow of a bruise was darkening on her cheekbone. He marked her. He marked what’s mine. Another rush of rage and possessiveness blindsided him for a moment, and she jumped a little at the growl he couldn’t entirely suppress.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, forcing his instincts down again. The bloody mayhem the Wolverine wanted to create wouldn’t get them out of this alive. He needed to be smart. His gaze sharpened on the sleeve of her shirt. Four bloody fingerprints stood out clear against the white fabric where she had hugged herself after scratching Azazel.

“Can I take that?,” he asked. Confusion crossed her face briefly, and then she nodded.

“You think you can find out who I am?”

“Can’t hurt.” He snicked one claw out and carefully cut around the sleeve above the elbow. He felt a shiver go through her as the blunt edge of his claw brushed her arm, but there was no fear in her scent. In fact, it was deeper, richer, even more enticing...

Fuck. Focus.

“I’d better do the other one.” He heard the roughness in his own voice. He cut off the other sleeve, and he felt her hold her breath as he rolled them both up to hide the raw edge.

“Please...be careful,” she said and he watched his fingers carefully, fighting the urge to brush them against her milky-white skin, even just to see if he could make her shiver again...

As soon as he had finished she pulled back, running her gloved hands over her forearms, obviously nervous with the amount of skin that was exposed.

He looked her over one more time, smoothing her hair a little, making sure she could make it into the house without attracting attention. “You’ll pass muster. Think you’ll be okay from here?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes met his again, dark and unreadable. “Logan...thank you. For everything. I don’t know what would have happened...”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad...I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out a hand, the veil of her hair protecting him from the skin of her cheek. She made a choked noise, nuzzling up into his touch. The sudden scent of her longing and arousal was his undoing.

“Rogue...” he muttered, and before he knew it he was kissing her, swallowing her gasp of surprise as he tasted her, warm and sweet and welcoming. Her mouth opened beneath his, delicious and slick as he kissed her deeper, his hand roving up from her waist to cradle her ribcage as she arched up into his touch. He groaned into her mouth and she echoed him with a wordless sound of wanting. His head spun and suddenly she pushed him away.

“Logan! Are you okay?” Her voice was a little muffled, as if from a distance.

He blinked for a minute, shaking his head to clear it.

“I’m fine, darlin’.”

She pressed a hand to her lips. “You -- you kissed me.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the wonder in her voice.

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

“Wha...why...” she stuttered.

“Listen, Rogue. I probably shouldn’ta done that, after all you’ve been through today. But I’m not sorry for doing it.”

Her eyes were still wide, but he saw a dawning awareness in them. Damn, she was beautiful. “Logan...”

He grabbed her hand, stopping her from saying more. “Tonight I talk to that guy I told you about, the telepath. We’re going to come up with a plan to get us both out of here, and then we’re going to get you free of Shaw -- help you find out what really happened. And then...”

He traced the line of her white streak, drinking in how her eyes fluttered shut and her scent spiked with arousal again as he leaned in, breathing the words into her ear. “And then I’m gonna kiss you some more.”

Logan surveyed the smoky bar. He dismissed the college girls and the needy divorcees, focusing in on the semi-professionals. There. She would do. She had a streetwise look to her, smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut.

He leaned on the bar next to her, and she looked him up and down with a sly smile.

“Got a place?” he asked.

A flash of shock crossed her face at his total lack of preliminaries, but then she smiled again. He picked right. “Just down the street,” she purred.

“Let’s go.”

She was on him before they got through the door, and he had to work to peel her off gently, backing up to what turned out to be a kitchen counter and setting her on it. He dropped a stack of bills next to her.

“That’s a month’s rent. If anyone asks I gave you the ride of your life. Now go take a shower -- a long one. I have to make a phone call.”

She was quick on the uptake all right, snatching the money off the counter and taking it with her into the bathroom. She paused at the bathroom door, looking him up and down again. “I could still give you your money’s worth.”

He grinned at her. “I’m sure you could, darlin’. Now scoot.”

She gave him a mock salute and closed the bathroom door. He waited until the water was running before he pulled out the phone. An untraceable cell phone, and he dialed the number he had memorized to a similar phone in Xavier’s desk drawer.

“Logan?” The relief was evident in the old man’s voice, and Logan felt the still-novel feeling of belonging wash over him.

He sat back on the girl’s saggy old couch, putting his boots up on her scuffed coffee table. “Chuck. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Logan could practically hear Xavier’s mind ticking as he ran down what he had learned about Shaw, Emma Frost, and most of all Rogue.

“The ability to take on others’ mutations...” Xavier repeated wonderingly.

“Yeah. You ever heard of anything like that?”

“I’ll ask Henry, but it is, in my experience, unprecedented.” Who the hell was Henry? Oh, of course, Hank. Logan had to smile at Xavier’s formality. It was always most evident when his mind was occupied, so he must be as puzzled by Rogue’s mutation as the rest of them.

“I’m sending you a picture of her, and of her fingerprints. Do what you can to find out who she is. Put Kitty on it. I don’t buy Shaw’s story for a minute. He wants her for something, I just can’t figure what. From what I can tell she seems to be the only person on earth who could actually kill that bastard, and he doesn’t seem the suicidal type.”

“If only we should be so lucky.” A rare wry comment from Xavier, making Logan smile again.

“And then these voices -- I don’t think she’s crazy, Chuck. Is that something they could be doing to her? You could do that, right? Could Emma?”

A thoughtful pause from Xavier. “She certainly could have that capability, although she would need to stay nearby. And you said she has been leaving on these trips with Shaw. But perhaps...perhaps we have it backwards.”

Logan waited patiently, knowing better than to interrupt Xavier’s line of thought.

“You said that after she touched this mutant, Azazel, she heard his voice as well.”

“Yeah. For a little while, and then when she concentrated he was gone.”

“Perhaps then...perhaps from that we can deduce that she absorbs not just energy, not just mutations, but even the consciousness of those she touches.”

Logan started to pace the room, thinking about it more. “She had to have touched other people. When she first manifested, through accidents...no one can be that careful. You think these voices have been there all along? Left over from the people she touched?”

“If so, Emma Frost may not be so much creating the voices as she is suppressing them. And perhaps letting them out as she chooses, to control the poor girl.”

“That kind of suppression...would that make it so she couldn’t remember? Could Emma have just...cut her off from everything in her past, voices and memories and all of it?”

“It would be grossly unethical...”-- Logan had to suppress a snort -- “...but it could be done. I might be able to tell, if she would allow me to look.”

Logan felt like he was in information overload. “We can speculate to hell and back, Chuck, but the upshot is we have to get her out of there. And, much as I hate to say it, I’ll be damned if I can see how any of this has anything to do with Jean.”

Xavier sighed. “I agree. We’ll see what we can find out over the next few days. Although, much as it adds to the confusion, I think I may have another piece of the puzzle.”

“I’m all ears, Chuck.”

“I received a call today from Tony Stark.”

Logan stopped pacing. “Yeah?”

“Someone broke into Stark Industries two days ago. In a very unusual way. Camera surveillance caught him outside the gates. Then suddenly a moment later on the grounds. And a moment later, in a secured area upstairs. His appearance was very distinctive.”

Logan started pacing again. “Azazel.”

“Precisely. As he was quite obviously a mutant Tony felt it appropriate to contact me.”

“What was he after?”

“Only one thing was stolen. A prototype, for a second generation arc reactor.”

“In English, Chuck.”

“A power source. Small, but almost infinitely powerful.”

Logan drew in a sharp breath. “Energy. Rogue said Shaw charges himself up with almost more energy than he can handle, so that he can give it to her in what he calls those ‘treatments.’ It fits. The only thing we’re missing is why. I sure as hell don’t buy that he’s doing it to help her.”

"I am inclined to agree with you, Logan.”

Logan felt the growl building in his chest, suppressing it with an effort. “That’s it. I’m not willing to fuck around here any longer, hoping for a lead on Jeannie. Extraction for both of us, tomorrow night. Just follow the plan we already put in place, but maybe a helmet for her on the bike that you’re gonna leave outside the south gate. We’ll meet you at the Blackbird at 2300 hours. And then we’d better be prepared to haul ass, because whatever it is Shaw wants her for, he’s not going to let her go easy. And we’ll have to figure out where we’re going. Shaw hasn’t connected me to the mansion, and we’re not gonna bring that kind of trouble to your doorstep.”

“I’ll arrange it. And Logan...”

Logan waited, but Xavier remained silent. “Yeah?”

“There is no other way to say it. Be careful. Shaw is...unlike anyone we have ever faced. I fear...” A heavy sigh from Xavier, as his voice returned with a slight quaver that sent a twinge of foreboding through Logan’s gut. “I fear for us all.”

_________________________________________

The sound of a chopper woke him. A brief period of disorientation as his sleep-disordered mind tried to pull a location from his jumbled memories -- Panmunjom? Cambodia? Where was he? What the fuck war was this? -- before he got his bearings. A real bed. Shaw’s house. Rogue.

He squinted out the window, watching it land. Fuck. He was hoping they would have another day, that they would be out of here before Shaw returned.

The henchmen came first, surveying the empty helipad cautiously. Then one jumped back in the open door of the helicopter. As Logan watched he slowly emerged again, Shaw leaning heavily on his shoulder. Jesus, what was this? Shaw looked pale and shaky, even as he shook off the henchman’s support with irritation, pulling back to stand somewhat unsteadily on his own. Logan heard his own words ringing through his head. I’m hard to kill too. Hard doesn’t mean impossible. Something had tested Shaw to his limits, but what?

Suddenly another voice, Rogue’s this time, clear in his head. It’s dangerous. He has to absorb a lot of energy first, almost more than he can handle, so that I can take from him without killing him. Goddammit. The arc reactor. And if Shaw was all charged up...

Logan hurriedly pulled on his shirt, jeans, and boots, trying to think. He had to get to Rogue before Shaw did. He didn’t know what the treatments were doing to her, but he’d be damned if he let Shaw do it again. He could get them past one of the gates somehow -- the bike wouldn’t be there, but...

He was down the stairs already, trying to slow his stride down the hall to a normal pace, and then suddenly there they were. Fuck, he had her already. Shaw was looking steadier now, and his gloved hand had a tight grip on Rogue’s arm. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Logan froze, his claws burning in his forearms with the pressure. Something must have shown on his face -- Shaw took a step forward, still holding Rogue’s arm tightly, and the henchmen moved forward too. Only Emma lingered behind.

Shaw’s eyes narrowed on Logan’s face, cold challenge in his voice. “Wolverine?”

Behind him, in a barely perceptible movement, Rogue shook her head, warning Logan off. Logan saw Emma’s eyes catch the subtle signal, and a speculative look crossed her face, a malicious smile curling her lips. Goddammit. His mind ran through every potential mode of attack. The henchmen and Emma were no problem, they could be dead in seconds. But Shaw...Shaw...

The Wolverine snapped and snarled inside him as Logan forced himself to admit what he had known all along. He was fuckin’ powerless against Shaw, anything he did to him would only make him stronger. Would only make him hurt Rogue more.

Logan took a deep breath, forcing the words out. “I’ve got an update for you on those security changes. When you get a chance.” Bitter failure choked his throat even as he saw the relief on Rogue’s face.

Shaw nodded. “Excellent. I look forward to it.” He reached toward Rogue, and Logan felt his blood rush, roaring in his ears with the force of his fury as Shaw ran his hand from Rogue’s cheek down her throat. “Come along, dear.”

As Logan watched, Rogue suppressed her shudder, ducking her head to avoid Logan’s eyes as she followed Shaw down the hall.

Logan let them pass, desperately struggling to suppress every instinct he had, when another wave of emotion rocked him.

Jean. He could smell her on them, waves of her familiar scent all over them. Shaw and Emma -- both of them had seen Jean, and recently. Logan froze, paralyzed with impotent rage, the Wolverine howling inside him as he could do nothing but stand in the hall, watching them go.

Logan ducked into the first room he saw, barely getting the door slammed behind him before the claws sprang free, the growl bursting from his chest. His whole body shook with adrenaline and fury. He sucked in deep breaths, trying to get himself under control, scrabbling to bring order to the chaos in his head.

Find her. Take her back. She’s yours. The Wolverine was snarling in his head, fueling the helpless rage, while Logan’s thoughts were mired in his own failure. What a worthless goddamn piece of trash he was. He had failed Rogue, failed Jeannie...

He snicked the claws in and out, using the pain to try to focus himself. Calm the fuck down. Breathe. Think.

Find her, the Wolverine snarled again, and this time Logan was able to evaluate the instinct rationally. He couldn’t get her away while she was with Shaw, but he could track her, get to her as soon as Shaw left her alone...

Before the thought had even coalesced he was out the door, claws forced back into his arms. The scents were like a neon sign to him...that acrid, electrical smell of Shaw, Emma’s tart chalky scent, the warm sandalwood of Jean, and most of all Rogue’s enticing sunshine-and-sweet-grass fragrance. Logan padded stealthily in their wake -- up a set of stairs, down a long hallway...

There the scents split up. Shaw, Rogue, and the henchmen had entered one room to the left, while Emma was in the room to the right. Logan leaned his forehead against the door on the left, drinking in the traces of Rogue’s scent, hearing her voice muffled by the thick wood, fighting the urge to break it down. He heard a scraping sound in the room next door, and suddenly thought of Xavier’s words. She would need to stay nearby...

He took a few deep breaths, rolling his shoulders and flexing his hands. Then he opened the door to the room on the right and walked in.

Emma was sitting in a chair which was awkwardly pulled as close to the wall of the adjoining room as possible. Her head rested back against the wall, her pale brow furrowed in concentration.

“Hey there, darlin’.” Logan tried not to choke on the warm flirtatious tone he was trying to pull off.

Emma’s eyes flew open. She started to stand but then hesitated, her eyes darting wildly from Logan to the wall, where the voices had sharpened from their previously subdued murmur. “Get out!” she hissed at Logan.

He sauntered towards her. “What’s the matter, baby? I thought you might have missed me while you were gone...”

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to concentrate again. He put a hand on each arm of the chair, leaning up close to her. “Now don’t go playin’ hard to get...”

Her face was reddening with rage, a thin vein pulsing in her temple. “You idiot!” She shoved at his arms, and he allowed her to think she was able to push him back. “Just...go!”

“Now that ain’t sweet, darlin’. I was thinkin’ we could have some fun. Don’t tell me Shaw has what it takes to keep a woman like you happy...”

The voices in the other room were more strident now, scuffling sounds making their way through the wall as Emma’s scent sharpened with fear. Her skin started to harden, an icy shimmer creeping up her neck.

“Emma! Goddammit, get in here!” Shaw’s voice, thick with alarm, even though the solid wall. Emma shoved past Logan, darting out the door and into the room next door as the scuffling sounds continued.

Logan put his hand up against the wall, claws springing free reflexively at the thought of Rogue struggling in there, without him. He closed his eyes in despair as frustration choked him. Every instinct told him to charge next door and to hell with it if Shaw vaporized him, but he knew it would blow any chance of getting Rogue free. It was up to her now. C’mon, darlin’. Whatever they’re trying...fight ‘em. You can do it.

__________________

Five hours. He just had to play this part for five more hours. Logan kept repeating it in his head as Whirlwind dealt the cards. Five hours until the extraction. In five hours, he could get Rogue out of there.

He knew that Emma and Shaw probably hadn’t bought his ill-timed come-on for a second, but apparently they were not ready to confront him yet. Instead they seemed to have decided to keep a close eye on him. Shaw had even uncharacteristically asked to be dealt in to the game. Emma stood behind him, downing drinks at a record pace.

Having a telepath on your side was not playing it straight, but nobody was quite drunk enough to call them on it yet. Not that Logan was so sure Emma was on Shaw’s side right now. Her eyes were bright with the drinks she had been knocking back, and she was unusually shrill. The air between her and Shaw snapped with tension.

Shaw called for more shots all around. Logan had never seen him drink like this either, it was unsettling to see that cold, controlled personality grown sloppy with the liquor. Logan hoped to hell the foul mood Shaw and Emma were in meant something had gone wrong with their plan, that Rogue had managed to fight off the treatment. Five hours, he told himself again.

Azazel raised the bet. He was the only one at the table who seemed unaffected by the strained atmosphere. In fact, he seemed to be reveling in it, drinking in the discord between Shaw and Emma, the tension between the pair of them and Wolverine. His eyes shone with mischief as he pushed Shaw toward deeper play. The more Emma tried to caution him the more irritated Shaw got, sniping back at her, drinking more, and raising his bets further.

Logan folded more hands than he played, content to let Azazel needle Shaw, glad the bastard was providing a useful distraction. He only hoped Azazel didn’t push Shaw too far -- Logan had been hoping to gut Azazel himself for what he had done to Rogue, but if he kept on this way Shaw would vaporize him where he sat.

Logan threw in the small blind and Shaw the large blind.

“Let’s make it more interesting,” Azazel suddenly said.

Whirlwind seemed to be the only one besides Wolverine who was sober enough to realize how unstable this whole situation was. He hesitated for a moment in dealing the cards, and then continued.

“What did you have in mind,” Shaw asked, his bleary eyes sharpening with a hint of his more typical calculating look.

“If you win, I do the next job for free,” Azazel said.

“And if you win?”

“I get tonight with that fiesty piece you have on the side,” Azazel said, with a gleeful look to Emma. “The one with the stripes.”

Christ, the man was suicidal. Logan felt his own claws start to spring and forced them to retract, choking back the Wolverine’s sudden desire to tear Azazel’s throat out with his teeth. Shaw’s face reddened with rage, his hands seeming to glow with amassed power. Whirlwind eased back from the table nervously and even Azazel seemed to realize the danger he was in, the air starting to shimmer around him.

Suddenly Emma giggled, leaning into the tense scene, her arm around Shaw’s neck. “What a lovely idea! We were just saying that Rogue needed a lesson, weren’t we, sweetheart?” She looked toward one of the henchmen. “Go fetch Rogue, Marcus.”

The man hesitated, looking to Shaw. Shaw grabbed Emma’s hair, pulling her face down to his. “Emma...” he hissed.

Emma leaned closer, her lips almost brushing Shaw’s. “What’s the matter, darling? I thought you said Rogue didn’t mean anything to you. And she was so very disobedient today...”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed on Emma’s for a moment. He pulled her hair harder, and she gasped. He smiled, and then pulled her onto his lap, kissing her deeply. She giggled as he finally released her and nodded to Marcus. He pulled some gloves from his pocket, throwing them onto the pile of cash on the table. “You’ll need these,” he told Azazel. “Just make sure she’s still breathing in the morning.”

“How about you, Wolverine? Are you game?” Emma said slyly. Logan let visions of eviscerating that bitch dance through his head as he made a show of checking his hole cards.

“With a hand like this? I’m in,” he finally said.

“Whirlwind?” Shaw asked.

Whirlwind managed an uneasy smile, sweat trickling down his temple. He didn’t even bother to check his cards. “I’ll sit this one out,” he said. “I like the money. And I haven’t even seen the girl.”

“Ah,” Shaw said. “Well here’s your chance.”

The Wolverine surged to the surface as he scented her. Logan tried desperately to control his reaction, taking another deep draught of his beer, trying not to look at her for fear of betraying them both.

“Sebastian. What the hell is going on?” Her usually warm, husky voice was sharp with tension.

Shaw leaned back in his chair, downing another shot. “You seem to have collected some admirers, Rogue.” He threw another stack of bills in the center of the table. “We’re just playing to see who comes out victorious.” Emma giggled again.

Logan managed a glance at Rogue. God, she was beautiful, head held high, anger bringing color to her cheeks despite her fear. His relief at seeing her unharmed warred with his apprehension for the treacherous situation they were in. Marcus stood behind her, holding one wrist, but she ignored him as if he weren’t there. Her eyes drifted to Logan, and she quickly focused them on Shaw again. Good girl.

“You’re betting me?” Her voice changed from shock to icy disdain. “I guess you really are done pretending then, you sick sonuvabitch...”

In a flash, Shaw was out of his chair and in her face. She stood her ground, even as he loomed over her. His voice was an cold whisper, only Logan’s sensitive hearing allowed him to make out the words. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I need your body, alive and breathing. What happens in the meantime doesn’t concern me at all.”

Her voice was equally quiet as her eyes narrowed on Shaw’s. “I’ll see you dead for what you’ve done to me.”

Shaw grabbed Rogue’s arm, twisting it painfully up behind her back, forcing her body to arch forward towards him. Logan felt his chair start to splinter under his grip as Rogue drew in a pained breath. Shaw simply smiled, however, and shrugged, releasing the pressure on her arm. “You can try.”

Shaw sat back down at the table. “Deal the flop.”

Logan watched the cards fall, pressure in his chest. He knew one thing, if Azazel won he would be dead within the hour. There was no way Logan would let him get to his room with Rogue alive, and he hoped she knew that. Another glance at her, and he wasn’t so sure. Marcus had an iron grip on her arm again and she seemed to have shut down, her posture still stiff and proud but her eyes empty.

A nine of clubs, a king of clubs, and a three of hearts. Not ideal, but not bad for Logan’s hole cards of a nine of hearts and a queen of spades. He would need to be damn lucky. He raised on the flop, even knowing that the money mattered to no one at this point, as the others called. Azazel wanted to start trouble, although Logan was sure he was also looking forward to getting even with Rogue for their earlier encounter. Shaw, goaded on by Emma, seemed to want to simply punish and humiliate her. Logan just wanted to get them both out of this alive.

Whirlwind burned another card and dealt the turn. A five of spades. Fuck. The turn was checked around, as the tension in the room ratcheted higher. Logan was already mapping the path to Azazel’s room, figuring the best point of attack. He’d have to get the drop on him before he had the chance to ‘port...

Whirlwind’s hand shook with nerves as he burned another card and dealt the river. A nine of diamonds. Logan felt a grim hope surge within him. Trip nines with a king-queen kicker. Maybe luck was actually on his side. He raised his bet.

Shaw made a sound of disgust and folded. “Sorry, dear...” he smirked at Rogue. She turned her head aside, ignoring him even as the color in her cheeks deepened.

“Fiesty,” Azazel leered, calling the bet.

Logan showed his hand, trying to keep his face and posture impassive while his body was sprung tight with tension.

Azazel slowly turned his cards over, his face unreadable. A king of spades and a jack of hearts. Two pair, kings and nines, with a jack kicker. Wolverine had won.

Shaw clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Poor Rogue...I hear the Wolverine is quite brutal with his women.”

Logan collected the money silently, stashing it in his pockets. He pulled on the gloves Shaw had thrown on the table, and everyone at the table jumped as he suddenly sprang his claws, slicing through the leather. He bared his teeth in what could questionably be interpreted as a smile. “It’s been a pleasure playin’ with you all.”

He sheathed the claws again and took Rogue’s arm. She started to pull away from him. “Move it!,” he growled, yanking her forward and propelling her brutally out of the room.

Logan half-dragged Rogue down the hallway, his every heightened sense on high alert. Would Azazel really let them go? Damn him for being a teleporter -- Logan’s senses were no help with someone like that, he could show up at any moment without warning. How about Shaw -- was this a bluff on his part to scare Rogue, or was he really that much of a bastard?

Rogue was still struggling a little, her delicious clean scent still tainted with fear and anger as he pulled her along. Even through both of their gloves he could feel the thrumming of her pulse where his hand grasped her wrist. God, he hoped she was pretending, that she didn’t actually think he would hurt her. His stomach churned with the worry that she might actually think he was a willing part of this, that he was like the others after all.

The walk to his room seemed endless, but they finally got there. He opened the door, shoving her inside and following close behind. He slammed the door closed, pulling a chest of drawers in front of it for extra insurance. Finally he stood panting, trying to slow the pounding of his heart, fearful of scaring her further.

She stood with her back to him, her head bowed, catching her own breath. He was suddenly struck by the delicacy of her -- the fine-boned shoulders, the vulnerable nape of her neck. She had seemed so fierce downstairs as she faced down Shaw, and now she just looked...fragile.

“Rogue?” he finally said uncertainly.

She dove into his arms with a suddenness that startled him, even as his arms came up reflexively to catch her. He felt relief wash over him as she nestled closer, drawing in a deep shuddering breath. Her damp cheek pressed against his shirt, slender arms wrapped around his waist, the curtain of her hair falling to obscure her face. He could feel her heartbeat, fast and light as a bird as it fluttered against his chest.

He felt the tightness in his chest ease, and let his arms enfold her -- holding her tighter, smoothing a hand down her hair. A strange sensation surged through him as the Wolverine was both soothed and stirred by the warmth and scent of her, the feel of her soft little body pressed to his. Satisfaction and craving, contentment and desire.

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspy. “I’ve got you. It’s...it’s okay.”

A tearful laugh and a sniffle from her at that, her warm breath heating his skin even through his shirt. “My so-called husband is a sadistic psychopath who could kill us at any moment, but otherwise things are just fine.”

“Yeah, well -- ya gotta take the good with the bad sometimes.”

Another helpless laugh from her and she finally pulled away, stepping back to wipe the tears from her cheeks as he reluctantly let her go. “Sorry for blubbering on you.”

“Hey. Any time.” His eyes searched her body, trying to reassure himself. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head, and sat down on the bed, fiddling with her gloves. “I’m not even sure what happened. Sebastian tried the treatment -- he made me touch him as usual -- but something went wrong. It felt different. It felt like when I touched Azazel. It wasn’t just Sebastian’s energy I was taking, it was almost like I was taking him. Taking him into my head. I tried to push back, and my hands started to glow, like his do before he hurts someone...and he freaked out, and stopped. He was furious, but he didn’t try again. He just locked me away.”

He sat next to her, pulling her hand into his. “It was Emma. She does something during the treatment. I don’t know what it is, but I distracted her this time. I think it kept them from doing what they planned.”

Rogue looked up at Logan, confusion and fear in her dark eyes. “I think he really is insane. I could hear his thoughts -- they were all jumbled and twisted, but they were the thoughts of a madman. I didn’t understand most of it, but I got enough to know that he doesn’t give a damn about me. He just wants to use my mutation. He thinks of me as some kind of...vessel.”

She stood up, pacing in agitation. “He’s trying to erase me, somehow. Put himself in my head until there’s nothing left of me. And then use my mutation -- my body -- for something. You’re part of it too somehow, but there’s something else that he’s fixated on. I don’t know what it means. Something about a Phoenix...rising. Does that mean anything to you?”

He shook his head. “Like in the myth? The bird?”

She ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “I don’t know. It wasn’t like something he’d read about. It’s more like something he’s trying to make happen. Something that he thinks will make him -- invincible. Even more powerful than he is now.”

Dammit, he felt like he was just a step away from making the pieces of this puzzle fit, but the solution eluded him. “Whatever the two of them are up to, it has something to do with Jean. I could smell her all over them. They have her somewhere. Did you see anything about her in Shaw’s thoughts?”

“I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t. Nothing about a woman. Just this...Phoenix. I don’t know how to describe it. In his thoughts it wasn’t a person. It was almost like a...like a force of nature.”

Logan felt the growl of frustration building in his chest. The Wolverine just wanted something to fight, and fuck all these goddamn secret plans and mysteries. He didn’t give a fuck what Shaw was up to. Once he had Rogue safe away and had found Jean, he just wanted Shaw dead. He didn’t know how yet -- the bastard was damn near unkillable -- but he’d find a way.

Rogue stopped pacing, resting her forehead against the window as her breath fogged the glass. She shook her head hopelessly, her finger absently tracing a letter in the foggy window. “I’m starting to remember more. I think when the treatment went wrong something started to break down -- whatever it was they did to make me forget. I’m just getting flashes of things here and there, but enough to know that Sebastian was lying. I didn’t block things out because of some trauma. I had a life, and somehow he took it away. He and Emma stole it from me.”

He moved behind her, his left hand on her shoulder. He traced the line of the letter on the glass.

“M,” he read.

“I don’t even know what it stands for. I just know that I used to do this. In my bedroom, at home. And on the other side of the window there was a -- a tree.” He watched her pale reflection in the window, her brow furrowed with thought. “A tree with white flowers. Magnolia.”

She closed her eyes, her scent turning salty with sorrow. “I can’t remember my own parents, but I remember that stupid tree.” She looked so lost, he couldn’t help it, he wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned back against his chest with a sigh. He turned her towards him, his gloved hand on her cheek.

“It’s just a few more hours now. At ten o’clock the guards change shifts. I’ve arranged it so there’s only one guy at the south gate, and he’s the dumbest one of the whole dumbass lot of ‘em. Taking him out won’t be a problem. There’s a bike waiting for us. That guy I told you about -- the telepath -- and some more of my friends will be waiting with a plane. They’ll keep you safe, and help you figure out what Shaw did to you.”

He watched the hope light up her eyes, warming something in his belly. “Tonight?” she breathed.

He smiled. “In a few hours. That sound good to you?”

This time he was ready for her, catching her as she dove into his arms again, hugging him tight. For someone who had been so skittish about physical contact, she was sure getting the hang of it fast. Something in him purred with satisfaction at the thought that she could be so carefree with him. Only with him.

He gave her one more squeeze and then reluctantly set her away from him while he still had the self-control to do so.

“You must be wiped out. Lie down for awhile, I’ll let you know when it’s time to go.”

She nodded and sat down on the bed, but hesitated before lying down. “You’ll -- you’ll stay here, right?” Her dark eyes looked up at him from under lashes spiky with tears. He didn’t know how she did that -- making him want to cuddle and devour her at the same time.

He sat on the other side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “I’ll be right here.”

Her hand found his again, and even through both their gloves the press of her small palm against his sent a jolt to his heart and another to his groin. Dammit, their lives were in jeopardy and he was quivering at her slightest touch like a lovesick teenager.

He leaned his head back against the headboard, trying to get his thoughts in order, reviewing the extraction plan again. He kept losing focus, though, his eyes drifting to her beautiful face, her luscious body stretched out next to him as her breasts rose and fell with her gentle breathing. He pulled in a deep breath and her scent washed over him, both comforting and enticing. The effect was as if she had stroked her hand down his body, and he felt himself shiver in reaction.

She hadn’t been sleeping, she opened her eyes as his hand reflexively tightened on hers.

“Logan?”

He knew it was a bad idea, but he felt like he was sinking, helpless against the undertow of his emotions as he eased down on the bed to lie facing her. He brushed a gloved thumb over her cheekbone, watching the color flood there. He felt so unbearably attuned to her, the hitch in her breathing and the speeding of her pulse resonated through his own body as her scent deepened with arousal.

“Rogue,” he rumbled, his voice hoarse with wanting as he moved his thumb down to press against her full lower lip, her uneven breaths heating the leather as her eyes fluttered shut. He simply watched her, feeling suspended for an endless moment, and then let himself fall, his hand winding through her hair as he leaned in to lick and then suck where his thumb had brushed her lip. He ate at her mouth in soft nibbles and sucking bites, swallowing her wordless sounds of excitement, carefully breaking contact whenever he felt the tingle that preceded the pull of her skin.

He felt the undertone of her anxiety fade as she grew to trust his restraint, allowing herself to become lost in sensation as her body grew pliable under his hands. The control her skin demanded was more erotic than he would have ever guessed, teasing both of them with strategic retreats as his kisses grew deeper and more demanding. He pressed his lips against the beat of her pulse, tasting her skin there, licking and nibbling her neck. She threw her head back, baring her neck to him further, and he growled against her creamy skin with satisfaction at the instinctive gesture of submission.

He hadn’t even realized he had rolled her under his body until her gloved hands found their way under his shirts, stroking up his back, making him shudder and press against her. Just there...so good, as she arched up into him with a moan, the seams on the fingertips of her gloves scratching down his back as he ground into her again.

“Rogue...I want to see you,” he rasped, and she nodded breathlessly, her hands frantic on the buttons of her shirt as she bared herself to his gaze. He deftly snapped open her bra, running his gloved hands over her breasts, watching avidly as she arched up into his touch, nipples pebbling against his palms. He ducked his head and rubbed his stubbled jaw over the smooth skin as her hands clenched convulsively in his hair.

He licked and sucked at her breasts, drinking in her wordless gasps and murmurs. She tasted sweet and ripe and delicious, and he felt like he could never get enough of her. He traced his hand in slow circles over her soft belly and she whimpered, arching up again into his touch. God, she was so responsive.

“Please,” she ground out, and he growled his assent as he unbuckled her belt and unfastened her jeans, pulling them swiftly down off the length of her supple legs.

He traced his hands back up her legs, enjoying the look of the dark leather against her firm creamy skin as she shifted restlessly beneath his touch. Then he buried his face back in her neck, taking in her scent and her excited gasps as his hand delved into her panties.

He could feel her heat and slickness even with the gloves. He circled and stroked, bringing her closer -- she was so close -- working her with his thumb as he slid one gloved finger inside her. So hot, so tight...

He felt the resistance and froze, as her eyes flew open on a sharp intake of breath. His surprise lasted just a moment, before it was buried in a rush of fierce possessiveness and primal satisfaction that nearly stopped his breath. Just mine. Only mine. He bit back the Wolverine’s howl of approval, sucking in a deep breath instead.

“Rogue...you haven’t done this before?” he asked gently.

Her eyes were wide as they met his, her cheeks still flushed with arousal, pulse fluttering hard at her tender neck. “I...I didn’t know.” Her eyes drifted closed again as she moved against his hand, urgently, seekingly. “I don’t care...Logan, please.”

Knowing he was the only one to touch her like this -- to see her like this, luscious and wanting -- and the sound of his name on her lips almost brought him over. He groaned, taking her mouth again in a delicious slick invasion, sucking at her tongue as his hand began to stroke her again, winding the tension higher.

He muttered gruff reassurances against the skin of her neck, hardly knowing what he was saying. “I’ll make this good for you...take care of you...fuck, Rogue...you feel so good...so sweet and soft...all mine...”

He could feel it building in her again, her scent rich and deep with arousal, her body writhing and urgent under his hands, her little breaths and murmurs growing more frantic and plaintive.

“That’s it, baby...so good...so close...” He slid the finger inside her again, gritting his teeth against the flood of arousal that washed over him at the feel of her gripping him. She threw her head back and pushed hard against his hand, her gasp one of pleasure this time as she felt him press and stroke inside and out in that delicious rhythm.

“C’mon baby...that’s it...come for me, darlin’...” he urged in a guttural growl, as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, sucking hard, nibbling and biting at the skin, marking her as his own as his hand worked against and inside her, pushing her over the edge.

He felt her sudden indrawn breath against his lips and then the low breathy keen vibrating in her throat as she clenched around his hand, the flush spreading up her body as she shuddered and spasmed against him for endless moments. He growled with satisfaction -- she was so beautiful -- and he knew just how to touch her, drawing it out, making it last, glorying in the way her luscious body responded to him as he made her come hard with just his touch.

Finally he eased her down, snuggling her into the curve of his body, both of them breathless and panting. After a long moment she raised her head, pushing her auburn and white locks back to look at him, and he growled again with satisfaction at the happiness and wonder on her face. She reached up, tracing her fingertips down his cheek, and he shivered.

He saw a slow smile spread across her face as she took in his reaction to her touch, her eyes glowing with a new awareness. “Logan...” she said, her voice teasing this time, as she skimmed a gloved hand under his shirts from his belly to his chest.

“Jesus, Rogue...” he ground out, bucking up into her touch. She kissed him, teasing little flicks of her tongue in between smiles, as her hand traced down again, past his belt buckle to press against the bulge at the front of his jeans.

Another wide smile from her at the strangled groan that escaped him, and then her small deft hands were working his belt buckle, pulling it free.

“Rogue...you don’t have to...” he started, his words choked off by another muffled groan as she rubbed her hand over him, slowly pulling his zipper down.

“Christ, darlin’...” Her silken gloved hand explored him gently, straining the limits of his control.

“Shhh...” she said. “Just...show me.”

His hand came down over hers as he showed her how to touch him, his heart stuttering in his chest as he felt the pleasure growing, running in rivulets through his body and pooling at the base of his spine.

“Rogue...darlin’...Christ, baby...so good...”

He took her lips again, tasting her, feeling her, drowning in the delicious scent of her and him mixed together as she stroked him. There was nothing else in the world but the feel of her hands on his body, the taste of her skin under his lips, the sound of her excited breaths tickling his ear. He heard himself growling again, muttering incoherent words into her deliciously scented skin as he pressed himself hard into her hand, his hand tangled in her hair. A final sucking bite at her neck caused her hand to tighten around him and then he was coming hard, throbbing against her, shuddering as he pressed his sweat-sheened forehead against her skin.

Christ, she was so amazing -- leaving her at the Blackbird was going to be one of the hardest things he had ever done...

She suddenly drew back, her eyes wide, and he realized too late that he had lingered too long -- the tingle of her skin had turned to a buzz while he was so deliriously sated that he hadn’t even registered it.

“Rogue...”

“You -- you were just going to leave me?”

“You -- you were just going to leave me?”

“Rogue -- just wait...” He reached for her, but his reflexes seemed slow, his coordination disrupted by the lingering effects of her mutation. She ducked away, turning her back and reaching for her bra.

“Just give me a minute, okay?” She could feel the blush on her cheeks as she buttoned up her shirt and pulled on her jeans, trying to think calmly despite her hurt feelings. It helped that she had caught not just his thought, but his emotion. This decision wasn’t easy for him either.

She took a deep steadying breath and sat down on the bed again, pulling her knees up to her chest. He had buttoned up too, and he now watched her somewhat warily.

“You weren’t going to tell me,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, spiking his already wild locks further. “I knew how hard it would be for you to trust strangers after what Shaw’s done to you. I wanted you to meet them, see that they really meant to help you, before I told you that I was heading back.”

“Because of Jean.”

He nodded. “Rogue...” His voice was thick with emotion as he reached a gloved hand to her face. He pressed his palm against her cheek, and she closed her eyes, drinking in his touch. “I can’t just go, knowing that they have her. I’ll never get the information if I leave now. She’d be as good as dead.”

She nodded, feeling tears prickling behind her eyes, hating that weakness. “If you’re staying then I’m staying.”

He sat up, a new tension in his frame. “Like hell you are,” he growled.

She felt the tendril of anger spreading through her, bracing her. “You think you can order me around? What the hell are you thinking, Logan? If I disappear now -- from right under your nose? Sebastian will go ballistic. He’ll turn you to dust in two seconds flat. You just expect me to take off and not care about that? To let you die without a backward glance?”

She expected more anger from him, but instead his face softened, his clenched jaw easing and his eyes growing warm again.

“Hey. C’mere.”

He gathered her in close to him, holding her against his chest. She closed her eyes, feeling his warmth, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared, replaced only by heartache.

“So you’d be sad if Shaw turned me to dust?” he murmured against her hair.

She thumped his chest with her hand in aggravation, torn between tears and laughter. “Well, don’t get a swelled head over it.”

He sighed, rocking her a bit as his chest heaved up and down. “Listen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to boss you around. But whatever Shaw has planned, you’re the key to it all. You heard it yourself in his thoughts. You staying here for even another day -- that’s not a risk either of us can take.”

He ran a hand over her hair, his gaze meeting hers. “You said yourself that he needs me for something, which means he’s probably not going to get rid of me until he has it. And if it has something to do with you, getting you out of Shaw’s grasp is only going to make me safer.”

She drew breath to argue, but then let it out in a sigh. She knew he was right. Whatever Sebastian had planned, if he accomplished it they were all in danger. Just the thought of Sebastian with even more power -- the kind of world-changing power she had sensed in this Phoenix -- chilled her blood.

“What are you going to tell them?”

He laughed softly. “That you're a wildcat -- you caught me off guard and your mutation knocked me on my ass. I don’t remember a thing.”

She shook her head against his chest. “There’s no way they’ll believe that. And won’t Emma read your mind and know you’re lying?”

“Maybe Shaw will buy it, maybe he won’t. But if he gets angry enough to kill me, he’ll be wrecking whatever goddamn grand plan he has. And Emma can’t read me. Probably all the metal in my head.”

She lifted her head, looking into his hazel eyes curiously. “Metal...in your head?”

He shifted her closer to him, and she felt him hesitating, as if unusure where to start. “You know I’m feral, right?”

Her lips quirked. “The constant growling tipped me off a bit.”

He gave her a mock swat. “Smartass. Anyway, from what I’ve pieced together, I had claws before, but they were made of bone. The metal came later, at the same time I lost my memories. It’s all through my body -- not just the claws, but grafted to every bone in my skeleton, including my skull.”

She traced her fingertips along his cheekbone, as if she would feel the metal through the barriers of her gloves and his skin, and then felt foolish. “How?”

“They cut me open, put liquid metal in me, and let it harden. Once it’s set, nothing can break it. I’m as damn near unkillable as Shaw is.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but he couldn’t hide the shadow of pain in his eyes.

“Logan...” She nuzzled into his chest, horrified by the thought of what he had gone through. “How did you survive something like that?”

“Hmmm? I thought you knew. I heal.”

She looked up at him in surprise. He held up one hand, popping one claw and then retracting it, and she watched in fascination as the skin closed up, leaving only a slight trace of blood behind.

She ran a gloved finger down the space between his knuckles where the gash had been. “It still hurts you -- doesn’t it?”

He nodded, and she leaned down, kissing the healed skin gently, eliciting a soft growl of surprise and arousal from him.

Suddenly she sat up, heart racing with the realization. “That why he wants you -- your healing.”

Her mind spun, nausea rising up from her belly as she suddenly saw the whole picture. “He wants...it’s like a Frankenstein creation. He wants to use my mutation to steal your healing. And the treatments -- trying to transfer his consciousness to me, trying to take over. That’s what he wants -- his mind...in my body...with your healing. And then the power of this Phoenix. He would be unstoppable.”

His expression grew grim. “Christ, Rogue. I think you’re right.”

He pulled her up against him again, both of them shaken by the idea of an all-powerful, completely invulnerable Shaw.

His voice was steely with resolve when he spoke again. “We’ve got to get you out of his reach. If that last treatment had worked...”

She shivered, petrified at the thought of Shaw in her body. Would she simply have been erased, or would she have been trapped -- a helpless bystander in her own mind as Shaw did whatever horrible things he had planned? Logan seemed to sense her fear. He held her tighter, stroking her hair, soothing her. She felt the tears prickling behind her eyes again at his kindness. “I don’t want to leave you here with him, Logan. He’s insane.”

He sighed. His voice was a low rumble against her ear. “I know, baby. I don’t want to leave you either. I’ll get the info about Jean as soon as I can, even if I have to twist Emma’s head off to get it. And then I’ll meet you. It’ll be okay. My friends are good guys. They’ll take care of you. I trust them, and I don’t trust easy.”

There seemed to be nothing left to say. She settled closer into the warmth of his body, listening to his breathing and the steady thump of his heart, trying not to think about how easily Sebastian could stop that heart...still that breathing...turn his whole body to ashes, metal skeleton or not.

She hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep until she felt him gently nudge her awake, placing a kiss on her hair. “It’s time, darlin’. You ready for this?”

She nodded, rubbing her eyes, pulling her hair into a knot at the back of her neck. She slipped on her shoes. “How will we get out of here without being seen?”

He opened the window and looked out. The back lawn was deserted. “Shaw’s crappy security...all the guys are in the house, and all the guards are at the perimeter. I’ll lower you down.”

He pulled the sheet off the bed. She couldn’t help smiling despite her worry -- it was just like a jailbreak in a movie. “Do you need me to tie it around you, or can you climb down?”

She sat on the windowsill and looked down. They were on the second floor -- it was high, but not unmanageable. “I think I can climb.”

He quickly made a few knots in the sheet, and lowered it along the wall. He held her face, kissing her one more time, soft and deep and urgent. “When I get down there with you, stay close and stay quiet. I’ll let you know what to do, okay?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. He braced his feet, and she held onto the sheet, lowering herself slowly. Once she got the hang of it she was able to go quickly, dropping the last few feet to the lawn. She watched in confusion as the sheet disappeared and Logan reappeared in the window. With a sudden bound he simply leaped down, landing beside her on the balls of his feet.

“Logan! Are you okay?” she whispered.

She saw the gleam of his teeth in the darkness as he straightened up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.

“Just fine, darlin’. Here we go.”

They made their way toward the south gate, Logan appearing to have no difficulty finding the path despite the near-total darkness. His feral nature seemed to come to the forefront as they moved silently across the lawn and through the woods -- his movements becoming more predatory, golden eyes glinting in the wan moonlight, muscles bulging in his arms and shoulders as he stopped to sniff the wind every so often.

Rogue saw a light winking in the distance as the trees thinned. The guard booth at the south gate. As they got closer she could see the guard’s back, chair tipped back, chin on his chest.

Logan crouched down, pulling her down beside him. “Stay here,” he whispered. She watched him move stealthily toward the guard booth. Suddenly he stopped, sniffing the air again. Her breath froze in her chest as Logan abruptly wheeled around, claws springing from his hands.

Everything seemed to happen at once. The guard sprang to his feet, pointing a gun at him -- Rogue saw that it was Marcus, he had only pretended to be sleeping. At the same time there was an odd thwucking sound, and Azazel appeared behind Logan. A split second later, Azazel had thrown himself at Logan’s back, and with another thwucking sound they both disappeared.

Rogue hadn’t even realized that she had leaped to her feet. She stood at the edge of the woods, stunned and shaking, as Shaw emerged from the far side of the gate, three men with high-powered flashlights in his wake.

“Rogue....come out, come out, wherever you are!” Shaw taunted in a singsong tone.

Rogue stood for another moment, frozen in shock. Then she turned towards the forest and ran.

Logan smelled Azazel a split-second before he felt the thump at his back. He reached back, trying to get him with the claws, but a dizzying sensation of nothingness overwhelmed him. In the next moment the gray smoke was singeing his nasal passages and he shook his head, trying to clear the smoke from his eyes.

He reached out and felt a jarring shudder through his forearms as the claws collided with metal. Squinting through the smoke he saw metal bars, and he slashed forcefully with the claws, expecting to cut through. Sparks flew, and an earsplitting screech of metal-on-metal filled the air, but instead of cutting through the force of the blow traveled back up his hands and arms, tearing at the intricate musculature and tendons.

Logan sucked in his breath at the blinding pain, wheeling around, but there were bars on every side -- so close he couldn’t even take a full step in any direction. This wasn’t a jail cell -- it was a coffin. He roared with fury, and as the smoke cleared further he saw Azazel, watching with amusement from a few paces away. He snicked in the claws and grabbed two bars, pulling on them with all his strength, but they didn’t budge.

“Save your energy, Wolverine. Did you really think Shaw would bring you here without a contingency plan in place? It’s solid adamantium, and it’s been here since before you even arrived.”

Logan roared again, the Wolverine snarling and howling in his mind at being caged. He could see more clearly now, and he ran his hands over every barred surface in a frenzy. There was no hinge, no latch, nothing.

“Like I said, solid adamantium. There is no door, Wolverine. I teleported you in, and that’s the only way out. Not that you’re ever getting out of there alive.”

Logan felt panic and failure choking his throat. They had been so close to escape, and he hadn’t sensed the trap in time. His blunder had sentenced himself to death, and Rogue to worse.

Azazel pulled a chair against the far wall, and pulled a pack of cards out of his pocket. He started shuffling them lazily, biding his time. Logan could make out his surroundings now -- they were in Shaw’s wine cellar.

“Do you even know what Shaw has planned? He’s insane -- if you let him go through with it he’ll rip this whole world to shreds.”

Azazel smiled, his eerie blue eyes glowing in his crimson face, his clawed hands never stopping the deft motions. “Exactly. Chaos and destruction. What could be more delicious? And I’ll have a front-row seat.”

_____________________

Logan heard the clatter of footsteps and leaped up, hands on the bars, waiting. Azazel jumped up from his chair, putting the cards back into his pocket.

Logan felt the last hope die within him as he caught Rogue’s enticing scent among the others. He watched in despair as Marcus shoved her roughly down the stairs in front of him, her arm twisted behind her back in his gloved grip. Her beautiful face was streaked with tears, her shirt and jeans torn and bloodied in spots.

Shaw and Emma followed behind, both of them practically glowing with smug satisfaction. Logan felt the growl starting in his chest, growing to a roar as he futilely pushed and pulled at the bars. The Wolverine was in a frenzy to reach Rogue, to kill Shaw and Emma -- logic didn’t enter into it. He snapped and snarled futilely at the pair, straining the bounds of the cage, alternately trying to slash the two of them and reach Rogue.

Logan watched the scene through a red haze of rage, Shaw looking on with a smirk while Emma’s lips parted with ecstasy, her eyes dilating with pleasure at the uncontrollable rage and pain the Wolverine was projecting. He slowly managed to rein in the Wolverine, suppressing him forcefully until he was able to speak.

“I’ll kill you, you sonuvabitch,” he snarled at Shaw.

Shaw laughed. “I never would have pegged you for an optimist, Wolverine. I do believe it is going to be the other way around.” He nodded at Marcus, who pulled Rogue a little closer. “The two of you have forced me to accelerate my plans, but perhaps it is for the best. The body that houses the Phoenix is failing, and all of that wonderful healing of yours might come in handy sooner than I expected, Wolverine.”

Rogue braced her legs, pushing back, but she was no match for the much larger man. Her feet skidded on the floor as Marcus pushed her inexorably forward. He yanked her twisted arm higher, and she hissed in pain.

“I won’t do it,” she ground out at Shaw. “I can control it -- you can’t make me absorb him.”

Shaw clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Poor Rogue. I knew you were pathetic, but I hadn’t realized you were so dense. You never had control, and you never will. When I found you, you were sad and alone, scared to get close to anybody. Take comfort in that if you will. The life you lost wasn’t much to speak of anyway.”

The information seemed to hit Rogue with the force of a blow to the gut. She paled further. “The pictures...” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Of course. Just another part of the lie.”

“Shape shifters can be hired by the hour, my dear.” He stepped forward, nodding to Marcus. “Pull the glove.”

Marcus yanked the glove off Rogue’s right hand, her left arm still twisted behind her in his iron grip. She tried to grab for bare skin, but he swiftly caught her wrist with his gloved hand. “Ready.”

Shaw reached into a dark corner and pulled out two long shock batons. He threw one to Emma and stepped forward as Emma circled around the back of the cage. Logan’s head snapped back and forth between them warily.

Emma jabbed first, and as Logan swiped at the baton Shaw got him in the back. Blinding pain, the smell of burning flesh, and when his mind cleared he was crumpled on the floor of the cage.

Shaw smiled, flicking the switch again, and Logan felt every muscle in his body convulse as the shock ran through him.

“Now!” Shaw said, and Marcus shoved Rogue’s hand through the bars, pushing it firmly against Logan’s neck. Logan lay helpless, still paralyzed by the effects of the shock, looking into Rogue’s tear-filled brown eyes as he felt the tingle and then the buzz of her skin.

“Logan...” Rogue murmured despairingly, closing her eyes. And then her eyes snapped open again, as the buzz turned to a painful pull. He suddenly felt her hand curl around his neck of her own volition. “Trust me, Logan.”

For a moment the excruciating pull of her skin warred with the dizzy, spinning sensation of nothingness, and then suddenly they both ceased instantly. Logan pulled in a gasping breath, coughing on the smoke as he scrabbled upright, feeling the slick metal that had been underneath his feet replaced by wood flooring.

“What the fuck...?” They were the last words Marcus ever spoke, as Logan buried his claws in the man’s chest, pulling upward, slicing through his sternum with ease. He pulled the dead man’s hand from Rogue’s arm, tossing him backwards and pulling Rogue upright in the same motion.

As the smoke cleared the scents and sounds of the stable surrounded them.

Rogue's eyes were wide and dazed as he looked into her face and then pulled her into his embrace, his voice hoarse with relief. “God, Rogue...”

“It worked...it worked...” she mumbled with disbelief into his shirt.

He gave her another squeeze. “It sure did, darlin’. That was some good thinking.”

He pulled back, looking into her eyes. “We’ve gotta move,” he said urgently. “Azazel will be ‘porting all around the damn place looking for us.”

She nodded. “They’ll be looking for us at the south gate. The east gate is closest to here. We can leave the grounds there and circle around to the bike on the outside.”

He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”

They moved as swiftly as she could manage through the woods. He stopped farther from the gate this time, pulling her to a crouch again. He grasped her arms, pulling her almost roughly to face him, his voice low and urgent. “Give me five minutes. If I’m not back, go without me. Try the other gates -- ‘port if you can. Kill if you need to. Whatever you have to do to not let Shaw get you. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “Logan...”

He silenced her with his kiss, urgent and demanding, the taste of her warm and welcoming and delicious. He pulled back and yanked off his tags, slipping them over her neck. “If you get out without me, get to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters in Westchester, New York. Show Charles Xavier these, and he’ll give you all the help you need. Say it back to me.”

Her voice was rough with tears but steady as she repeated it. “Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York. Charles Xavier.”

“Good.” He tucked the tags down the neck of her shirt, his fingers lingering against her soft skin for a moment longer than necessary until he felt the tingle that was uniquely hers. “Five minutes. Start counting.”

Logan stalked toward the guard booth at the east gate, wary of another trap but with the Wolverine hungering for blood. Two guards -- they had obviously been put on alert, but he smelled no reinforcements so far. He crept forward and pounced, slashing one across the neck. The other reached for his radio and Logan took off his hand at the wrist in a clean slice, cutting off his scream by burying the claws in his chest.

Within a few minutes he was back with Rogue, pulling her to her feet, his blood-drenched shirts still cooling in a sticky mass against his skin. He pulled her quickly past the guard booth, ignoring her gasp of shock at the carnage. She knows what you are now, a voice in the back of his mind whispered, but he silenced the thought ruthlessly. It didn’t matter, as long as she was safe. He would hack through every guard Shaw had if that’s what it took to get her to the fucking jet.

Luck seemed to be with them again -- the bike was right where Logan had arranged.

“You ever ride before?”

Rogue shook her head uncertainly. “I don’t know.”

He helped her get the helmet on. “Just hold onto me, and try to lean when I do. You’ll do fine, darlin’.”

He felt hope rising with every second they were on the open road, Rogue’s small firm body pressed tight to his back, her arms wrapped around him. He tore down the road as fast as possible, Rogue leaning with him as they whipped around the corners as if she were part of his own body.

The ramp was down on the Blackbird and Logan cut the engine and glided the bike right up it, skidding to a tight turn at the entrance to the cargo bay.

He ignored the shocked faces of the X-Men, barking orders even as he helped Rogue off the bike.

“Scooter -- get us in the air. ‘Ro -- radio in to the mansion. Evacuate the kids and all nonessential staff. I got busted somehow -- I don’t know how much they know but it’s a fair bet my cover is compromised.”

Finally he turned to Xavier, his voice a low growl through his clenched jaw. “You and I need to talk. What the fuck is a Phoenix, and what does it have to do with Jean?”

Rogue sat in one of the bucket seats at the back of the jet, stunned by her surroundings. Logan had mentioned friends, and a plane, but -- this? She had imagined a small puddle-jumper, not a sleek, high-tech jet that looked like it belonged on some super-secret military base. And Logan’s “friends” -- they looked like...well, superheroes, dressed in sleek black leather uniforms. One of them -- a beautiful woman with striking white hair -- even had a cape, for Christ’s sake.

Logan himself seemed hardly recognizable to her. He had pulled off his blood-soaked shirts and now wore a leather uniform jacket that matched the others. He was continuing to bark orders like a military commander, consulting the fancy high-tech equipment at the front of the cockpit from time to time.

“Hi...you must be Rogue, huh?”

Rogue jumped. The girl speaking to her seemed like the least intimidating member of the group. She had short brown hair and she seemed to be younger than the others in the jet -- the beautiful white-haired woman, a man with a red visor, and an older gentleman in a wheelchair.

She nodded. “What -- what is this place?”

The girl looked at her quizzically. “Wolverine didn’t tell you?” She paused, apparently taking in Rogue’s blank expression. “I guess not, huh,” she said wryly. “I’m Kitty. The guy with the visor is Scott, and the woman flying the jet now is Ororo. That guy there is Professor Xavier. We’re X-Men.”

Rogue felt like her head was spinning. “Is that something...with the government?”

Kitty laughed. “I think sometimes the government wishes they had the stuff we have. No, we’re not part of any government group. We’re all mutants. This whole set-up is to help people. Mutants who are in trouble, or really anybody who needs it. It started with Professor Xavier. He’s a telepath, and he’s super-rich. He started a school for people like us -- mutants with nowhere else to go, or even those who just need help learning to control their powers. And then as some of the early students got older, they formed this team. I’m kind of a junior member. We go by codenames sometimes too. Wolverine you know. Ororo is Storm, and Scott is Cyclops. I’m Shadowcat.” She reached out an arm, but instead of touching the chair next to them her arm seemed to pass right through it.

“Shadowcat,” Rogue repeated dazedly.

Kitty smiled again. “I guess it can be a bit much to get used to all at once. Wolverine really didn’t tell you anything?”

Rogue felt something sink in the pit of her stomach. Why hadn’t Logan told her any of this? He had only told her about Professor Xavier and the name of the school when it seemed like he had no other choice. Did he not trust her?

Again she looked at him. He and Professor Xavier and Scott were speaking together in angry, urgent tones. They appeared to be fighting about something, something about the Phoenix. Logan’s face was stern, his body tense and fierce in the tight leather uniform jacket. Again, she had the eerie feeling that she was watching a stranger, and she wondered again if she really knew him after all. He had been undercover -- is that what people did when they went undercover? Turned into someone else, and then just turned back like flipping a switch?

“Listen,” Kitty said, interrupting her thoughts. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or anything, but I understand we might be under some time pressure here. Wolverine had us looking into who you really are. And...”

Kitty hesitated, looking down, and Rogue realized for the first time that she had been holding a folder on her lap. She felt her heart thumping in her chest, her body breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Is that -- does that say who I am?”

Kitty nodded. “I’m kind of a computer whiz. With your fingerprints, it was easy enough to find the information. And we had some of it in our systems already, as you’ll see.” She handed the folder to Rogue, who took it gingerly.

Kitty smiled again reassuringly, and tactfully moved back over to one of the consoles, leaving Rogue with the file. Rogue took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t help it, her eyes seeking out Logan again. Somehow she had thought he would be with her when she found out who she was. But not this intimidating, commanding, superhero Logan, who was obviously in the middle of some important conversation that couldn’t be interrupted. She wanted the Logan she had known -- the one who had held her, and told her...

She closed her eyes, her heart sinking further. What had he told her, after all? Not that he loved her, or even cared for her. Not who he really was. Just that he didn’t want to leave her, but that he would. He hadn’t promised her anything -- only that he would get her free of Shaw, and he had. He was as good as his word, and now that she was free he didn’t even seem to remember that she was here.

She took another deep breath, fighting back the tears. Don’t be such a baby, she scolded herself. You don’t need anyone to hold your hand. Before she could change her mind, she flipped open the file.

She drew in her breath in shock at the photo of herself attached to the front inside cover. She looked just like she did now, except without the white streaks. Had she dyed her hair back then, or had she acquired them later? She realized now that there was writing at the bottom of the photo. “Anna Marie D’Ancanto,” someone had printed in neat handwriting.

”Anna Marie! You get inside right this minute or you’re gonna get a whupping!” Uh oh, she had been daydreaming again, thinking about asking Cody to the eighth grade dance. She hadn’t realized the streetlights had come on, she was gonna be in trouble...

Her numb fingers flipped another page, to a picture of a little girl, blond streaks in her red-brown hair, smiling up at the camera from between two stern-looking adults. "Born in Caldecott County, Mississippi, to Priscilla and Owen D’Ancanto...”

“Prissy, you need to stop babying her. How’s she ever gonna learn to stand on her own if you’re wiping her damn nose every two minutes?” She hated when her parents fought, she hadn’t meant to be bad, she would try harder...

Next was a news clipping. Just a blurb, relatively uninformative. A boy named Cody Robbins had been hospitalized after a seizure. He was now comatose, his prognosis uncertain.

Her mama wouldn’t stop crying. Why did she get to cry? Anna Marie was the one who should be crying. She was the one who was a freak -- the one who had put her friend in the hospital, who had his voice rattling around in her head even now. She was the one whose life was over before it had even begun, and yet the tears were all stopped up, her eyes red and angry and dry as she watched her daddy shove clothes from her dresser into his old Army duffel bag. He didn’t even know her, she hadn’t worn that top in years. “There’s places up North where they tolerate muties,” he was mumbling. “Head up that way. If you stick around here you’re only gonna bring more heartache down on your mama and me.” Her numbed mind couldn’t even grasp what he was saying. His heart was aching? What about her heart?...

She hardly recognized herself in the next picture -- her teenage face thin and sharp and suspicious, her hair straggly and tangled, a placard held sullenly in front of her. A mugshot. Vagrancy, she read. Shoplifting...

She had never been so cold in her life. Her feet were numb, her fingers were numb, even her teeth seemed numb. The green hooded coat had seemed so warm in Mississippi, but the wind up here whipped right through it as if it weren’t even there. She felt like she would never be warm again. “Wanna ride, honey?” She recognized that greedy, calculating look in his eyes. She had managed to avoid rides from guys like him so far, but she was so tired of trudging through the mucky snow by the roadside that she was going to drop, and no one else had come along this road in hours. He must have seen the indecision on her face. He swung open the truck’s door, and the warm air rushed out, brushing over her body, bringing tears to her eyes. “C’mon, honey,” he wheedled. “What’s your name, sweet thing?” She hitched the duffle higher up on her shoulder and swallowed down the bitter lump in her throat. “My name’s Rogue,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes as she climbed in...

She wanted to stop, but somehow her fingers kept turning the pages of the file automatically as her mind struggled under the onslaught of memories and emotions. At the back of her mind, the whispers started again. She recognized Cody’s voice now, and the voice of the trucker, whispering dirty things to her, calling her sweet thing...

“Employment History” the next page was titled.

Rogue was refilling the ketchup bottles when Ruby came out of the kitchen, smiling from ear to ear, holding the small plate with the cupcake on it like it was a silver platter. A tiny candle sputtered on top, melting the icing. Carl pulled off his stained apron, a smile creasing his weathered face as well. “Happy graduation, sweetheart.” She should have known they were up to something, they almost never both stayed past closing. Rogue shook her head, laughing, embarrassed at the spurt of pride she felt. “It’s just a G.E.D.,” she protested. “Don’t talk it down like that,” Ruby said, poking her. “Just think. Community college,” Carl said in wonder, the way some would say “Harvard,” or “Yale”...

Another page and she knew what Kitty had meant by her being already in their system. How could she possibly have forgotten?

The librarian was giving her dirty looks again, but he would just have to deal. They didn’t close for another fifteen minutes, and she had to get this essay just right. Her part-time job at the stables was the brightest part of her day, and getting a degree in veterinary medicine would be a dream come true. She still doubted that any place would give her a scholarship, but rumor had it this foundation gave preference to mutants. Maybe that’s all it was -- a rumor. How would they know, anyway? It’s not like the application asked if you were a mutant or not, and in this political climate that’s not something you just offer up. Besides, mutant or not, would they even consider someone like her? Her juvenile records were sealed, but she still just had a community college degree with a few more distance learning credits from the local university. And it sounded so fancy -- the Xavier Foundation Scholarship for Exceptional Students...

And there it was, a copy of the acceptance letter, but brand new and crisp, not stained and tattered like the one she had received had become, now stuck up on the refrigerator in her tiny apartment. She had had such trouble believing she had gotten the scholarship that she had carried the letter in her pocket for the whole first year, expecting someone to ask her for proof at any moment, opening it up and just looking at it every time she felt like she didn’t really belong...

“Marie! Marie!” Damn, she couldn’t pretend not to hear that. “Marie!” Gretchen caught up with her, out of breath from running. “We’re all going to get a pizza and take it back to my place to study for the chem exam. Come with us for once.” Marie shook her head, hardly breaking her stride. “I’m sorry...I’ve got...this thing...another time maybe...” She hurried away. ‘Coward,’ one of the voices in her head taunted. She sucked in a deep breath, pushing him back into his box. She wasn’t a coward, she wasn’t, she was just being smart. It was too dangerous to let anyone get close. People would start to ask questions. She turned the key, opening the door to her empty apartment. The silence seemed deafening. ‘Alone,’ the voices seemed to taunt -- or was that her own voice? ‘You’ll always be alone...’

It felt like pressure, building and building in her head, the voices growing louder and louder, and then suddenly there was a snap and the voices were unleashed in an overwhelming onslaught -- yelling, screaming, taunting, pleading. Rogue closed her eyes against the blinding pain, barely aware of the file falling from her nerveless fingers. The other people in her head were so many, and she was just one...she was drowning, and tired -- so tired, it would be so much easier to just stop struggling...

Charles Xavier had never seen the Wolverine so angry. His claws shimmered at the surface of his knuckles, a muscle twitching uncontrollably in his jaw. For a moment Xavier was so fearful that Wolverine might lose control in the close confines of the jet that he thought about exerting a little calming influence...

He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had occurred to him. Of all the things that made the Wolverine angry, uninvited entry into his mind was at the top of the list.

“Goddammit, Chuck, how could you keep something like that a secret. You should have told me,” he snarled.

Xavier felt a rush of anger flush his face. The nerve of him -- the unmitigated gall -- to insist that he be told? He had been with the team for barely a year -- Jean hadn’t even told Scott for years! And yet...

Xavier took a deep breath, calming himself, marshalling his thoughts. He knew how Logan felt about Jean, the usually stoic man projected those feelings loud and clear. Xavier may hold his own opinions about what those feelings actually represented, but to Logan they were real. And when Jean had disappeared, and Logan had put his life on the line to find her...yes, he should have been told.

Xavier sighed, suddenly weary. “You are right, my friend. I should not have let you go into this situation without telling you. I quite honestly did not believe that Jean’s disappearance had anything to do with the Phoenix -- that anyone aside from myself, Jean, and Scott even knew that the Phoenix existed.”

The mixture of shame and guilt that always accompanied thoughts of what he had done to Jean rose up in his belly. “I will admit, I have always been conflicted about what I have done. To fracture a mind, even to save it -- to imprison the Phoenix, so that Jean Gray could live and be happy -- it was not a decision made lightly, by either of us. But we both felt it to be necessary, simply because of the unimaginable power the Phoenix could wield. Perhaps my ambivalence -- my shame -- affected my judgment in this regard.”

“Goddamn right it did....”

“Professor!” Kitty’s voice, shrill and frantic, interrupted them.

They both turned, and Xavier was unprepared for the wave of emotion that roiled off the Wolverine as they saw Rogue collapsed on the floor of the jet, papers scattered around her. A fierce protectiveness, concern, and was that even...?

He hurriedly threw up a barrier against Wolverine’s emotions, reluctant to pry despite his curiosity. Psychic ability was hardly needed in this instance, in any case -- in a single bound Wolverine had gathered Rogue up against his body, stroking her hair, murmuring words of concern and reassurance with a tenderness completely uncharacteristic of the man they had known for the past year.

“Put her on the cot,” Xavier urged.

Wolverine looked up, his eyes wild, but followed the directive. “What the fuck happened? -- Should we call Hank?”

“Just a moment...” Xavier closed his eyes, concentrating on the young woman. "My God..." he heard himself mutter, his hands clenching on the arms of his wheelchair as he fought against the swirling bedlam that threatened to drag him under. He had suspected, based on her mutation, but -- such chaos. It was almost unimaginable how she had managed on her own.

"What? What's wrong with her, goddammit?!"

Xavier opened his eyes, disengaging with the young woman's mind with a wrenching effort, gathering his thoughts to try to convey what he knew in a way that would not provoke Wolverine further. "I believe that the barrier Emma Frost put in place between Rogue and her prior self has been breached, but too quickly. The consciousnesses of those she absorbed in her prior life are all unfettered, and are overwhelming her. She needs to regain control."

"It's -- it's my fault," Kitty said haltingly. "I gave her the file -- I didn't know..."

She handed Logan the untidy stack of pages she had collected from the floor. A low, ominous rumble began in Logan's chest as he looked at the papers, the rumble building to a snarl as he stopped at the mugshot. Kitty backed away, sniffling.

"Logan!" Xavier stifled a shiver as the cold, predatory gaze shifted from Kitty back to him. He gentled his voice before continuing. "I believe I can help her, but you must allow me access to her mind, without interruption. She cannot assent, so you must. Do you understand?"

As he watched, the feral golden light faded from Logan's eyes. Logan looked down at Rogue again, brushing her hair back from her face, his expression haunted. “Just -- help her.”
________________

Xavier pushed through the chaotic tumult of voices, searching for the one that was Rogue. Anger, vindictiveness, fear, all surrounding him in a dense swirling mass...there it was. Her struggling consciousness, fluttering against the forces of the other personalities, weakening already. He grasped the slender thread, following it as it grew thicker and stronger, all the way back to the core of her consciousness. Then he focused, expanding his psyche, spreading it outwards until it encompassed hers.

And there she was, appearing before him in his mind’s eye as just a young woman, the delicate form of her belying the strength of character he had already sensed in her consciousness. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her hands over her ears. She looked up at him, startled by the sudden silence. He knelt down in front of her and smiled.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Did I -- are you one of the people I hurt?”

“No my dear. And forgive my inexcusable manners for not introducing myself earlier, when you boarded the plane. My name is Charles Xavier. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“But...”

Her gaze drifted upwards and he self-consciously ran a hand through his thick hair. “Ah, yes. You must forgive an old man’s vanity. Sometimes one’s own self-image can be a little...outdated.”

He reached out a hand and helped her to her feet, absently enjoying the flex of the muscles in his own sturdy legs as he rose.

“Your self-image...is this in your mind? Or...mine?”

He considered the question. “A little of both right now, I believe. But my purpose in coming here is to help you with the aspects of your own mind that have become overwhelming. The voices.”

She bit her lip uncertainly. “I’m going crazy, aren’t I? That’s what it felt like.”

“Not at all, my dear. Nothing you are experiencing is made-up, or imaginary. The voices in your head are real entities -- the echoes of consciousness, if you will, of those you have touched. But they are controllable. You had developed control of them before, and you will regain control again. I am here to help you with that task.”

He focused his mind, and suddenly they were in a large field. He breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh air of his childhood, as Rogue looked around in wonder. He gestured, and a ramshackle stone wall appeared before them, large sections of it tumbled and broken.

“Imagine if you will that this is the wall that Emma Frost created within your mind to keep you from the memories of your past.”

Rogue walked up to the wall, picking up one of the tumbled stones. “It all feels so real,” she murmured, dropping the stone and wiping her gloves on the legs of her jeans.

“In some ways it is. Everything you imagine here is experienced by the sensory pathways of your brain. But here is the key -- you have control over what occurs. It is still, in essence, your mind controlling this experience. I am just a visitor.”

“I remember a lot more now...is that why the wall is broken?”

“Exactly. Over the past few days, and particularly when you were presented with the information from your prior life, you were able to breach the wall. And soon, with my assistance, it will be gone.”

Rogue paled. “I...I don’t want to go back there...”

His heart ached for the poor girl. “The events of your past are unchangeable, and part of you. But the tumult of voices -- those you did control, and will again. We will start right now.”

“How?”

“The same way you managed before -- one at a time.” He hesitantly reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, and was gratified when she allowed the touch. “You were such a young girl, so confused -- isolated from everything you knew, with no guidance from anyone -- and yet still you managed to control the voices. It was a remarkable accomplishment, Rogue. And you are stronger now than you ever were before.”

She bowed her head. “I don’t feel strong.”

He smiled, remembering times in his life when he had also doubted his own strength, his own control. “We never do, my dear. But when we do what is necessary -- even in the face of overwhelming adversity -- that is when our strength becomes evident. And you have already done so much -- defied Sebastian Shaw, rescued yourself and Wolverine. You can, and will, do this too. And then...then you can rest.”

She straightened her shoulders, her jaw set firm with resolve. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Xavier concentrated, pulling the consciousness of Cody past the barrier he had erected. His whispery voice surrounded them, faded by the years.

“Think back, Rogue. When you were alone, hitchhiking. You found a way to contain Cody within your mind.” He hesitated, but then decided to state it baldly. “You didn’t want him to see the things that you had to do to survive.” Her eyes avoided his, but she nodded. “Do you remember how you accomplished it?”

Rogue closed her eyes, thinking back. “I made a box...” She looked down at her hands, and suddenly a cigar box appeared. She tilted it back and forth a bit, listening to the rattle inside. Finally she opened the box, pulling out the Matchbox car inside. She spun a wheel on the red truck and smiled. “It was his favorite.”

“It was very clever of you, Rogue. Can you put Cody back in that box?”

Rogue hesitated. “Is he...is he sad when he’s in there?”

The poor child. Xavier suspected that concern for the happiness of the consciousnesses she had absorbed had likely prevented her from being able to contain them entirely. At least that fear he could set to rest.

“Not at all, my dear. When they are not sharing your mind, these other consciousnesses do not experience the passing of time. They are simply...in stasis.”

Rogue took a deep breath, and released it slowly. The whispering of Cody that surrounded them faded, until it was entirely silent. She ran a hand over the surface of the box. “Goodnight, Cody,” she murmured.

“Excellent, my dear. Do you remember who was next?”

Rogue’s eyes were shadowed with fear but she nodded again, a rusty toolbox appearing in her hands. Xavier gritted his teeth. He had briefly experienced the truck driver’s thoughts in the chaos of Rogue’s mind. The man was truly repugnant, and he did not look forward to engaging with his consciousness again. He smiled reassuringly at Rogue. “He is going to be quite challenging. Are you ready?”

She met his gaze squarely. “Ready.”
______________________________

Logan gazed down at Rogue’s unconscious form, fear for her churning in his gut. She and Xavier had been as still as death for more than an hour. The urge to hold her, shake her, try to rouse her somehow was almost overwhelming. What had he let happen to her? Why hadn’t he paid more attention -- he had been so caught up in his argument with Xavier and Scott that he hadn’t even noticed her distress until it was too late. The Wolverine was howling in his mind as Logan tried to contain his own panic. He trusted Xavier to do his best, but if it was too late...if she never awoke again, never looked at him again with that honest, trusting expression in her deep brown eyes...

The growl escaped him, and he chafed under the sympathetic gazes of the other X-Men. Trying to distract himself, he flipped through the file again, even though he had already practically memorized it over the past hour. Something in his chest twisted again at the thought of Rogue as such a young girl, abandoned by all who claimed to love her. But she had been strong -- she had struggled and scraped, but survived. Succeeded, even. He fervently hoped that strength would be enough to sustain her now.

He pulled one photograph from the pile. It was Rogue, sitting on a bench, a university library in the background. She was gazing down at a book but her beautiful face could be clearly seen, her profile composed, her lashes dark against her cheeks. It was the picture her friend Gretchen had submitted to the police along with a missing person’s report, not believing the letter of withdrawal the University had supposedly received from Rogue. With no evidence of foul play and no family to push the issue, however, the local police had not even opened an investigation.

Logan felt foolish. As much as he had promised to help Rogue find her memories, he hadn’t given much thought to what they might reveal. For some reason he had let himself believe that she had become entirely his. They would escape Shaw -- preferably killing the bastard -- and she would come to stay at the mansion with him. It had never occurred to him that she might have a whole other life -- one that she would be anxious to return to. Something in him bristled at the thought of it. He cursed himself for a selfish bastard. He should have been happy for her, and instead all he felt was fear and loss.

Mine, the Wolverine was still howling in his head, but Logan knew better. If Rogue awoke, she would not be the lost, friendless Rogue he had come to know, the one who had relied on him. She would have her memories back, and her life back -- one with options better than to be with a feral mutant she had only known for days. He remembered the shock on her face when she had seen the carnage he had left in the guard booth. She would probably run back to her old life as fast as she could. Run from him as fast as she could.

He smoothed his hand down her hair again, trying to force himself and the Wolverine into acceptance of the decision he already knew she would make. It’s okay, he told himself. I’ll give anything, as long as she wakes up...

Xavier and Rogue sat in the field, surrounded by an odd assortment of containers -- the cigar box and rusty toolbox, an old jelly jar, a shoebox, a church collection box, a picnic basket, an elaborately carved chess set, a music box, a pill bottle, and finally the smooth obsidian stone box containing Azazel.

Xavier was fatigued, but pleased with Rogue’s accomplishments. Only one task remained.

They both looked toward the wall. “When you are ready,” Xavier said gravely.

Rogue flopped on her back in the soft grass. “Do I really have to?” she said -- only half jokingly, he suspected.

“I am afraid you do, my dear. But do not be discouraged. The voices are contained. What remains on the other side of that wall are memories -- some good and some bad, but all of them are yours. It is time that you claim them. They have made you the person you are.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows, and then sat up, considering the wall. Finally she stood up. “How do I do it?”

“It is in essence your mind, Rogue. You have control over what occurs.”

Rogue nodded and walked up to the wall. She touched it, and as a small section in front of her tumbled Xavier saw her brace herself against the memories that were freed. What must it be like, experiencing a lifetime of memories in such a short amount of time? Even from his shared perspective inside her own mind, he found it difficult to imagine.

Rogue continued along the wall, one hand trailing the edge, as the stones tumbled in her wake. Finally she stopped. One push from her and the wall crumbled as far as Xavier could see, into the horizon in both directions. It settled into dust and then disappeared, leaving only the green field behind.

Xavier waited patiently while Rogue assimilated the rest of her memories, her body buffeted from time to time by the force of her recollections. Finally it was done, and she sank back down into the grass, panting.

Xavier sat down beside her.

“What now?” she asked after a few minutes had passed.

“Now...we rejoin our friends. They are very concerned for you.”

She looked at him, and suddenly her eyes seemed much older than her years. “Don’t underestimate me, Mr. Xavier. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me -- more than I could possibly say -- but don’t patronize me, even if you think you’re protecting me.”

“Rogue?” It was not often that someone had the ability to catch him off guard.

She gestured behind her, but did not turn her head. “I can feel it. Every time I try to focus on it it slips away, but I know it’s there. Were you not going to tell me?”

He felt a flush of embarrassment. Yes, he had underestimated her. And in an attempt to protect her -- to protect them all -- he had been unbearably condescending.

They both stood up, and turned. He gestured again. Another wall appeared, but this one was massive -- seamless and measureless, stretching as high as they could see and to the horizon in both directions.

Rogue drew in her breath sharply, backing up a few steps in apprehension.

“I was going to tell you, Rogue. But I will admit, not today.”

“Why couldn’t I see it?”

“Emma Frost had shielded it from you.”

She tentatively approached the wall, but did not touch it. “And Sebastian -- he’s behind there? Not the little bit that I put away already, that I got when the treatment went wrong,” -- she gestured at the pill bottle -- “But all those times he did the treatment, with Emma directing it -- he went behind this wall?”

“Yes. They hoped to transfer enough of him until he was strong enough to take over, and then Emma would remove this wall.”

Her eyes met his -- too wise, too knowing. “And you believe they succeeded. That behind this wall Sebastian is strong enough to take over. To kill me and take my body.”

“I simply don’t know, Rogue. But it is a risk. And one I hoped to protect you from, until you were more secure. More ready to face it.”

“So I’m strong, but not stronger than him. Even in my own mind,” she challenged. She suddenly paused, reading something in his expression perhaps, her voice more tentative as she continued. “You’re afraid of him.”

“Yes.” He was loathe to admit it, but it was the truth. “He is very powerful -- as strong as any human or mutant I’ve ever known. And you have absorbed a great deal of him, repeatedly.” He gestured again, and the wall disappeared. “Are you ready to go back now, Rogue? We will be arriving at the mansion soon, and Logan has been very worried.”

“Logan,” she repeated, and from within her mind as he was, he couldn’t help catching the turmoil of emotion that accompanied her thoughts of the man.

“Forgive me for being an old meddler, Rogue, but I believe that you and Logan have much to discuss. We are all in the midst of a crisis right now, but...” He placed a hand on her shoulder again. “When things have calmed down a bit, I hope that the two of you will have the chance to speak.”

She nodded.

“Good. Let’s return, shall we?”
______________

Marie opened her eyes, squinting against the glare of the jet’s overhead lights, jarred by the transition from the sunny green field to the stark cold jet. For a brief moment she caught a glimpse of Logan’s warm hazel eyes, and then she was pressed hard against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like steel bands, squeezing her so tight she thought she might break.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she heard him growl -- the words vibrating against her ear where it was pressed against his chest, the cold zipper of his jacket digging into her cheek -- and she would have laughed if she had enough breath.

“I’ll try not to,” she managed, closing her eyes and breathing in his familiar scent along with the smell of the soft leather, heated by his body. She felt safe and warm in his arms -- she felt like she was home.

“Rogue...” he rasped. She waited, but he didn’t say any more. She nuzzled into his chest a little more.

“Marie,” she finally confided.

“Marie,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, his arms tightening even further around her. And then a different tone, as he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Marie.” His voice was formal -- even distant that time -- and he sat back, dropping his arms from around her.

She blinked against the bright light, feeling suddenly bereft, the loss of Logan’s warmth making her want to shiver. He was in a chair across from her, his expression unreadable. She realized she was sitting on a cot, and wrapped her hands around the cold metal edge, feeling self-conscious under Logan’s cryptic gaze and the carefully averted glances of the other X-Men.

The soft whir of a motorized wheelchair caught her attention and she felt slightly dizzy again as she looked into the familiar blue eyes, now looking at her keenly from an ascetic, elderly face. When he spoke, however, his voice was the same, and the slight twinkle of mischief in his eyes allowed her to merge the image of the sandy-haired young man from her mind with this older, more serious persona.

“I am so glad to see you well, Rogue.”

She smiled. “Thank you so much for all your help, Mr. Xavier.”

“I hope in time you will feel comfortable calling me Charles.” He reached out to pat her gloved hand, and they were both startled by a growl from Logan.

“Logan?” Marie peered up at him, but he had already turned away, busying himself with one of the readouts.

Marie met Xavier’s eyes again, and he smiled reassuringly. “We will be landing at the mansion in a few minutes, my dear. Our minds will be somewhat linked for some time, so if you need anything, you need only to call.”

This time she reached out and took his hand. “Thank you again. For everything.”

He smiled and squeezed her hand for a brief moment before joining the others in a bustle of pre-landing activity. Her eyes were continually drawn to Logan, but he studiously avoided her gaze, seeming as fierce and distant as before, his shoulders bunched with tension under the tight leather of his uniform jacket.

She watched in amazement as the mansion appeared, lit up like a birthday cake despite the fact that it was near dawn. Ororo hovered the jet over a basketball court, which slowly opened up as she gently landed the plane inside the voluminous hangar that was revealed.

Ororo lowered the ramp, slowly revealing another contingent of strangers. Marie tried not to goggle at the blue-furred mutant, reading glasses precariously balanced on his wide flat nose. The others appeared to be Kitty’s contemporaries -- a young preppy-looking blond man, a massively muscle-bound individual with an unexpectedly gentle expression, and a young Asian woman dressed in bright yellow who seemed to be practically fizzing with nervous energy.

Logan strode commandingly down the ramp, Scott close behind him. Marie heard them urgently discussing something about trying to track the movements of Shaw’s helicopter, Xavier offering suggestions regarding satellite repositioning as he wheeled down the ramp behind them.

She stood uncertainly, still feeling like she was getting her bearings, reluctant to face so many new people.

“Come, child,” Ororo said gently, and Marie took a deep shaky breath, following her down the ramp toward the sound of Logan’s voice still barking orders.

“Kitty and Bobby -- you get on that satellite tracking. Piotr, I’ll give you the surveillance codes to Shaw’s cameras if he hasn’t changed them already, see if you can tell what’s going on out there, especially if he’s gathering his forces for an offensive. Doc, I want you to come up with a kit to counteract anything Jeannie may have been given to keep her out. We have four or five hours tops to find Jeannie before Shaw moves her, and then she’s as good as dead -- and if he’s connected me to the mansion and he comes here instead, we may all be dead men walking.”

Marie flinched at Logan’s harsh assessment. These people were friends of Jean Gray. If Logan hadn’t been busted trying to help her escape he would still be at Shaw’s mansion right now, finding out where Jean Gray was being held. Now they were all in danger because of her.

“Jubilee, this is …” -- Marie wondered if she was the only one to detect that hesitation -- “...Rogue. Find her a room, okay, and a change of clothes. Rogue, get some rest. Everyone else, meet back in the war room in 30 minutes, and you better bring some goddamn answers with you.”

The one he called Jubilee cut her eyes to Marie, obviously not happy about having been given babysitting duty. “Wolvester, why don’t I...”

Logan rounded on her, his eyes blazing, his voice a whiplash snarl. “Goddamn it, Jubilee, just fuckin’ do what I tell you. Now go!”

He had already turned away, but Marie saw the girl’s mouth pinch into a straight line, tears standing out briefly in her eyes before she marched away. Marie hurried to keep up, following the girl in silence down a metal corridor, up in an elevator, and then through a maze of wood-paneled hallways. Marie passed room after room strewn with child- and teen-sized clothes and sports equipment, but all the rooms were empty, doors hanging haphazardly ajar.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Evacuated,” Jubilee replied, her voice angry and flat. Now Marie remembered Logan’s words as they had arrived at the jet. All those children, woken up in the dead of night and forced from their home -- because of her. They must have been terrified. Thinking of it made Marie nauseous. What kind of disaster had she brought down on these people?

She felt the need to apologize to Jubilee, but the sight of her stiff back kept her silent. Still, she had to try...

“Listen, Jubilee. I’m sorry, about Shaw maybe coming here. And I’m sorry Logan spoke to you like that back there...”

She knew right away she had said the wrong thing. Jubilee’s spine stiffened further, her pride obviously stung. She assumed an expression of disinterest, shrugging. “You think that bothered me? Like, whatever. Wolvester can snap all he wants. ‘Sides, his panties are all in a twist about Jeannie. Everyone knows he’s been in love with her like forever...”

Marie managed a few more steps in numbness before Jubilee’s words actually sank in. Then she stumbled, knees suddenly giving way, her hand reaching out to the paneling to steady herself. She felt lightheaded and nauseous, Jubilee’s words combining with her own sudden realization, making her feel like she had been gutshot.

Logan. In love with Jean Gray. Of course. It had been right there in front of her the whole time. He had practically told her as much -- that he was risking his life to find Jean. If he had been allowed to, he would have left Marie with these people and returned to find Jean. How had she managed to be so dense?

Jubilee seemed to realize Marie was no longer trailing behind, turning in irritation. “Hey, keep up why doncha...” Marie didn’t know what Jubilee read in her face, but the disinterested expression dropped like a mask. “Hey -- are you okay? You look like shit.”

Marie shook her head, straightening up with an effort. “I’m fine...just...”

“Oh shit.” The look on Jubilee’s face would have been comical under other circumstances. “Are you...and Wolvie...?” she started, incredulously.

“No, nothing like that. I’m just tired.” It sounded unconvincing even to Marie’s own ears, and she had to turn away from the look of pity on the young girl’s face.

“Listen, don’t worry about what I said...” Jubilee said earnestly. “I mean, everyone knows, I’m a horrible gossip. I get everything wrong, all the time. Seriously, just...”

They had stopped in front of a door and Marie didn’t care if it was a broom closet, she had to get away from Jubilee’s contrite backpedaling before she died of humiliation.

“This is great...I’m just really tired...thanks so much, Jubilee.” She shut the door practically in the young girl’s face, unable to care how rude she must seem, just wanting to be alone before she fractured. Her numb legs carried her to the bed and she sank down on it, taking shallow breaths, trying to pull herself together.

Logan. In love with Jean, and Marie had prevented him from finding her. Had distracted him from his investigation with her troubles. Had practically sentenced Jean to her death so that Marie could escape Shaw. She thought of Xavier, sensing her feelings about Logan and urging her to talk to him, and cringed. She must have been so transparent -- how Xavier must have pitied her, for him to try to warn her. No wonder Logan could barely stand to look at her, knowing she lived while the woman he loved was somewhere dying...

The thoughts churned around and around in her head as she acted on autopilot, undressing and turning the shower in the adjoining bathroom to a scalding temperature. She stepped in and let the water rush over her, the prickling painful heat reddening her traitorous skin, washing the tears away as quickly as they fell. When the water started to run cold she stepped out, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks. Someone had left grey sweats on the bed while she was in the bathroom, and she pulled them on before crawling into the bed.

Logan. She could admit it now. She loved him. She loved him, and he loved Jean, but still he had helped her. Had saved her. Had brought danger to everyone he loved, including the woman he loved, just to get her free of Shaw. Even now he was downstairs, desperately trying to find the woman he loved, while Marie cowered up here, hurting and helpless.

The idea ran through her like an electric shock. No, not helpless. She abruptly sat up, throwing the covers back and wiping her hair away from her face with shaky hands. There was one thing she could do. She might fail miserably, but it was a chance. She could do this. For Logan -- a chance for his happiness, with the woman he loved.

She thought of Xavier’s words. Funny how she already thought of him as a friend. She hoped he would not feel betrayed by what she was about to do. She concentrated, sending him a mental call -- part warning, part apology.

I’m sorry Charles...I have to do this...I have to try. You know why.

Then she shut him out of her mind, focusing her thoughts inward, creating within her mind a sunny field. She gestured, and a stone wall appeared, seamless and measureless. She took a deep breath, gathering her strength, and reached out to touch it.

Logan gave himself ten minutes to shower and change before he met up with the others in the war room. He stood under the hot spray, scrabbling to get his emotions under control.

He had to focus on the mission, and the mission was to get Jean back, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Rogue. How she had looked -- still as death, fighting the voices in her head -- and the utter panic that had consumed him. The moment when her deep brown eyes had opened and looked into his, and everything in his world had seemed to come right again. And then she had told him her name -- her real name. For a moment all he had felt was a fierce satisfaction that she would share that with him, and then the significance of it had hit him like a punch to the gut. She was Marie, the graduate student with a bright future ahead of her. Not his Rogue anymore.

“Not mine,” he muttered aloud, pressing his forehead against the cold tile, trying to convince himself, trying desperately to quiet the animal inside. He had scented her confusion when he had pulled away from her, but he couldn’t talk to her then -- not in front of everyone, not with his control practically in shreds. Hell, he had almost taken Chuck’s arm off when he had reached for her.

The Wolverine had claimed Rogue -- Marie -- whoever she was -- and there was no telling him differently, even if Logan knew that she had a life to go back to now. He had sent her off with the firecracker as soon as possible, half afraid that if he didn’t get her out of his reach he would have her on the back of his motorcycle on the open road -- willing or not -- and fuck the consequences to Jeannie, Chuck, and everyone else who had unaccountably treated him like family over the last year.

He let the growl of frustration escape him, snicking the claws out just to feel the bite of pain. He turned the water to cold. For fuck’s sake, he was a killer, a goddamn predator, and the stakes had never been higher. Where the hell was the cold detachment that used to be second nature to him? He needed to focus on the mission. Get Jeannie back, get Shaw dead, and then he’d deal with Marie, even if it tore his guts out to let her go.
______________

“Goddamn it, there has to be something we can do to speed this up.” Scott’s voice was shrill with strain. Logan shot him a repressive glare. The whole team was on edge, the last thing they needed was to see their leader cracking up.

Kitty and Piotr were still frantically tapping away at their laptops, but it was obviously going too slowly to benefit Jean. Tracking Shaw’s helicopter flights backwards, satellite by satellite, was not going to get them her location in time.

Logan looked to where Ororo and Hank were poring over a list of Shaw’s holdings.

“Hank? ‘Ro? Any potentials?”

Ororo ran a hand through her hair, disordering the usually sleek locks. “We’ve been at this list for weeks, and we’ve barely managed to check a tenth of the sites we’ve identified as potential locations. And these are only the properties directly owned by Shaw or his company -- who knows how many other holdings he might have under offshore accounts, shell corporations...” Her voice broke. “It’s hopeless.”

Logan felt frustration choking him. Everyone had counted on him to get Jeannie’s location, and he had let them all down. Even now their eyes were all turned to him for a solution, and he didn’t know what the fuck to tell them.

“Nothing is hopeless, my dear.” Xavier’s steady voice, immediately calming some of the tension in the room. “We must persevere. Perhaps we can combine...”

He broke off in midsentence, his eyes snapping shut, fingers clenched white against the arms of his wheelchair.

“Professor!” Ororo jumped up, moving to Xavier’s side. When Xavier opened his eyes, however, it was Logan’s concerned gaze that he met.

“It’s Rogue,” he said. “I’m afraid...”

Logan didn’t even remember leaving the room, the next thing he knew he already running, his heart hammering in his ears, his stomach clenched with fear as he bolted down the mansion hallways. Her scent guided him, clear as sunlight, as he slammed the door to her room open.

She looked so small in the big bed, her auburn and white hair tumbled around her pale face, her muscles slack with total unconsciousness. He gathered her up against him, inhaling her scent, words jammed up in his throat behind the lump of panic. He had just got her back -- she was at the mansion, she was finally safe, what the hell had happened?

He didn’t know how long he sat there, cradling her, willing her to open her eyes, to speak his name again, before he heard the whir of Xavier’s chair. His head snapped up, his voice a razor-sharp snarl. “Why? You said she had control -- that she got the voices put away. What the fuck happened?”

Xavier’s eyes were grave. “She contained the other personalities, but Shaw remained, behind the wall Emma had put in place. I warned her that he was very powerful, but she has chosen to face him anyway.”

Logan felt anger and confusion welling up, combining with his fear to erode his control. He barely recognized his own voice as he ground out the words between gritted teeth. “You’re saying she did this on purpose? Why would she do that?”

Xavier looked to the doorway, where the other X-Men were crowded, looking on hesitantly. “Henry, please stay. You may be needed. Everyone else -- please return to the war room and continue your efforts. I promise that you will be updated as soon as possible.”

He wheeled closer to Logan as Hank stepped into his room, medical bag in his hand, and closed the door behind him.

“Logan,” Xavier began, his voice gentle. “I will not violate Rogue’s privacy. All I can tell you is that this is a choice she made, willingly. To face Shaw in her mind, and to extract from him Jean’s location.”

“Jean? Why would she do this for Jean? She doesn’t even know her!”

Xavier’s eyes were compassionate. “Not for Jean. For you.”

Logan’s heart dropped. For him? What the fuck did that mean? He struggled to calm himself, sucking in a deep breath. “She can’t have thought that I would have wanted…this.” His voice was almost pleading now. “Can’t you go in and help her, like you did before?”

Xavier shook his head. “I have tried. She sent the message to me and then blocked me out. This is something she must do alone.”

Logan pressed his palm to her cold cheek, trying to warm her as helplessness and fear churned in his gut. He suddenly lifted his head in realization.

“Her skin...it’s not taking me in...”

Hank approached. “Perhaps it does not work when she is unconscious?”

Logan’s chest tightened around a hard knot of dread. “Or maybe it means that bastard Shaw is winning.”

Hank and Xavier exchanged glances. “What?” Logan growled.

Xavier’s carefully soothing tone of voice set Logan’s teeth on edge. “Logan, there is a reason Rogue contacted me to let me know what she was doing. We must be prepared for whatever the outcome of this struggle may be.”

“Why don’t you just say whatever the fuck it is you’re trying to say?”

Xavier’s voice sharpened. “If Shaw does win, Marie will be gone -- or at least helpless. We need to be prepared for Shaw’s mind...his powers...here at the mansion. And we must neutralize him before he can do any damage.”

Logan brushed the hair back from Marie’s pale face, imagining her gone, that bastard Shaw in control of her body. “Neutralize him how? If there was a way, wouldn’t we have used it on Shaw by now?”

Xavier nodded to Hank, who rummaged in his medical bag before retrieving a small metal case. He opened it up, displaying a syringe filled with a milky-white substance.

“A few days after you left, a new mutant joined the school,” Hank’s measured voice explained. “The other students call him ‘Leech’. His power is, in short, the suppression of other powers. He has allowed us to take samples of his blood, and we have been working on isolating the active component. There is no guarantee, but there is a chance that injection of this compound may have a permanently suppressing effect on mutations. Charles and I had spoken of trying to use this against Shaw, as a last resort, but we were hampered by the lack of a mechanism for delivery. He would vaporize any projectile before it hits, or any person who tried to approach with this in hand. And of course, we cannot be certain of its effects.”

Logan looked at the syringe. “You’re saying it’s...a cure.”

Hank nodded, his glasses teetering on his furry nose. “Perhaps. We just don’t know.”

“So if we gave that to her...would it stop all this? Get rid of the other personalities -- kill Shaw in her head?”

Xavier shook his head. “I fear not. Her mutation is the absorption process. Once the personalities are in her mind, they are fixed. However, her ability to absorb -- and more importantly, to use the powers of those she has absorbed -- that lies with her mutation.”

A growl started deep in Logan’s chest. “You’re not talking about saving her,” he spat, his muscles bunching with the urge to pick up Marie and run. “You’re talking about being able to kill her if she turns into Shaw.”

Xavier’s face flushed red. “Certainly not!” He took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “I will admit that is what she asked of me, when she sent her warning. She knows better than anyone that we cannot have Shaw here, with Rogue’s powers in addition to his own, and with Jean within reach -- it would be the fruition of all his plans, and the death of all of us. But this compound may give us an alternative. If Shaw succeeds, we must inject Rogue’s body with the suppressant before he is able to stop us. And at least then she -- he -- can be restrained, until we find some way to get Rogue back.”

Xavier’s voice was sympathetic but firm. “Logan, you must realize this is what she would want. She knew the risks of this decision -- she was, in fact, prepared to die if Shaw took over. Surely administration of the suppressant would be a much more palatable alternative?”

Logan buried his face in Marie’s hair, letting her scent soothe him despite his worry, trying to think clearly. Xavier and Hank were right, the last thing Marie would want would be to have Shaw in control of her body, wreaking havoc at the mansion. If the suppressant could prevent that it would have to be done. He just hoped to hell it wouldn’t be necessary, and he still couldn’t understand why she had taken such a risk. He would have a lot of questions for her if -- when -- she came back. Just come back to me, baby.

“What do we do now?” he finally asked Xavier.

“All we can do is wait.”

Marie took a deep breath, gathering her strength, and reached out towards the imposing stone wall.

“I’m in control,” she breathed to herself. She placed her hand against the stone and it disintegrated. She pulled at the gap until she had a space big enough for her to get through. Clenching her fists, she ducked through quickly before she could change her mind.

The torrent of Shaw’s thoughts washed over her -- twisted, angry, and vengeful. She gritted her teeth, trying to ward them off so they didn’t overcome her. She grappled with the storm of thoughts and emotions, trying to focus it, contain it, until finally with a last, arduous push, Shaw’s thoughts and feelings coalesced, and Shaw himself stood before her.

Marie stepped back, panting with the effort, her eyes watchful.

Shaw smirked. “Why, little Rogue is paying me a visit! How remarkable.”

“Shut up, you bastard. I know what you were trying to do to me, but you’ve failed. My body -- and my powers -- are my own, and you’ll never get them.”

Shaw took a few steps forward as Marie narrowed her eyes, circling around him.

“And who exactly is going to stop me? You?” His voice was incredulous, mocking. “Pathetic little Rogue? Don’t pretend that you’ve grown a spine now.”

He feinted towards her and Marie shifted out of his way, trying to stifle the doubts creeping up her spine. Now that she was here, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to do. How was she supposed to get the information she needed, and then get him boxed up like the others?

“I’m in control,” she repeated to herself under her breath, but Shaw heard her and laughed.

“You’ve never been in control, Rogue. Not then, not now. I pushed you around like a pawn on a chessboard.”

Marie felt anger roar through her, bracing her. “You’re partly right. I wasn’t in control then. That person in your mansion -- your so-called wife -- you manipulated her...for awhile, at least. But that wasn’t me. You took away everything that I was -- erased my memories, drugged me, terrorized me with the voices. But that’s over now. I’m not that person anymore. I have my memories back -- my life back.”

She took a step forward, and this time it was Shaw who stepped back, caution replacing the amusement in his eyes. “You have no idea the things I survived -- how hard I fought -- before you even got to me. Before today you hadn’t even met me. And now...” Her voice lowered to a cold hiss. “You’re gonna wish that you never did.”

She looked down at her hand, and a pill bottle appeared. “You’re gonna tell me where Jean is,” she said, her voice ruthless and steady. “And then you’re getting in this bottle. And you’ll never see the light of day again.”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure Rogue? Maybe it’s going to be the other way around.” He smiled. “After all, what do you have that’s so worth living for? Friends? Family?” He tut-tutted with mock sympathy. “That’s right, I stole you away and no one even bothered looking for you. No one cares if you live or die, Rogue.”

She felt herself falter, and took a deep breath, trying to regain her focus, trying to keep his words from affecting her. He seemed to sense his advantage, and pushed harder. “Wait. How could I have forgotten? You and the Wolverine are going to run away and live happily ever after." He raised an inquiring eyebrow, his eyes gleaming as he saw his words hit home. "Or did he throw you aside already?”

She felt the blood drain from her face. Don’t think about Logan, not now, not now...

Shaw pounced, grabbing her by the hair, pulling her face close to his. She forced herself to meet his cold gaze. “I can make all that pain go away, Rogue,” he crooned. “Just imagine. You’ll never have to feel sad or lonely again. Blessed quietude. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Aren’t you tired of fighting?”

She felt his words snaking through her mind. Don’t let him get to you...don’t let him in... But the temptation of peace...in that instant it seemed so seductive. To stop fighting, to just rest for awhile...

She suddenly thought of Logan’s golden hazel eyes, warm with concern. Even if he loved Jean, he still cared for her. And Professor Xavier, who had been so kind, and everyone else at the mansion, counting on her...

Her mind seemed to suddenly clear. How could she have even considered it? She knew what Shaw intended if he got control.

She pushed Shaw away from her in a burst of force surprising to both of them, feeling the slimy tendrils of his persuasive thoughts slithering out from where they had burrowed into her mind. “You’re a sneaky bastard, Sebastian, but not sneaky enough." She stalked forward, her eyes steady on his as she removed one glove. "It's long past time you met the real me..."
________________________

Xavier straightened in his wheelchair, his eyes meeting Logan's. "She's waking"

Logan cradled Marie tightly to his chest. "Can you tell...?"

Xavier closed his eyes in concentration. "Not yet."

"Logan." Hank's voice was empathic but firm. "We need to be ready. We may have, at best, only moments..."

"I know," Logan growled. He buried his face against Marie's neck, inhaling her scent for possibly the last time. Finally, he set his jaw, pushing up the loose sleeve of her sweatshirt and holding her pale vulnerable forearm wrist up. He brutally suppressed his protective instincts, gripping her arm steadily as Hank slid the needle in. A ruby-red drop of blood welled up against her porcelain skin.

Hank placed his furry blue thumb carefully on the syringe's plunger. They both held their breath, looking at Xavier.

"Almost..." Xavier muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration. His eyes suddenly flew open. "It's Rogue!"

Hank pulled the needle out as Logan buried his face into Marie’s neck, relief washing over him. The tingle of her skin had never felt so welcome, the familiar sensation causing his throat to close up with emotion.

“Logan?” Her voice was tentative, concerned, but he still couldn’t speak, could only squeeze her tighter, breathing in her scent.

“Marie,” he finally managed, in a guttural growl. “Christ...Marie.”

She pushed back against him a little so she could meet his eyes, running a gloved hand over his face gently. “It’s okay, sugar. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

She looked at Xavier. “Charles -- are you ready?”

Xavier nodded, and they both closed their eyes as Marie transmitted to Xavier everything about Jean’s location she had gleaned from Shaw’s mind before she contained him.

Xavier sagged with relief. “Rogue -- you cannot imagine how much this means to us -- to all of us.”

He looked at Logan. “I have already instructed Ororo to start the jet. I suggest we leave immediately. Henry will see to Rogue.”

Logan’s arms tightened reflexively around Marie. “I need to talk to you.”

Marie drew away from him, looking at the others self-consciously. “It’s okay, Logan. Go ahead. We can talk when you get back. Go get Jean.”

“Marie...” he growled.

“Go on,” she repeated stubbornly.

Dammit, she was right. Focus on the mission. “You rest,” he said. “Because I wanna talk to you as soon as I come back.”

His voice sounded ominous even to his own ears, but she simply smiled, her eyelids already beginning to droop with fatigue. “Okay.”

He turned back at the door, but Hank was already fluttering around Marie, putting a bandaid on her arm and murmuring answers to her questions in a low voice. Focus on the mission, he told himself again as he followed the hum of Xavier’s wheelchair down the hallway.
_________________

She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but it must have been hours. Her limbs were weighted and heavy but she felt relatively rested, the exhausted headache that had clouded her mind gone as a commotion in the distance pulled her toward wakefulness.

She slowly opened her eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. More clattering and low voices, and she softly opened her door, stepping out into the hallway. A few more steps, padding quietly in her bare feet, and she was able to see over the gallery railing into the hall below. That muscle-bound young man -- Piotr, she remembered -- was supporting a limping Scott on his shoulder. And behind them...Marie’s heart leaped and dropped in the same moment.

Logan, looking exhausted but unharmed, carrying in his arms a woman. Her red hair blazed bright against the dark leather of his uniform jacket, and she recognized Jean instantly from Sebastian’s thoughts. She backed away a step, feeling like she was intruding, and the movement must have caught his eye. His intense gaze met hers for a moment, and then she turned away, going back to her room and shutting the door.

He’s safe, and he’ll be happy. That’s all that matters. The words made sense in her head, if only she could get her stupid, stupid heart to agree...

A knock on her door startled her out of her dark thoughts.

She opened the door, unable to entirely suppress a squeak of surprise at Logan’s massive bulk crowding the doorway.

He peered down at her, his voice gruff with irritation. “Why’re you lookin’ so surprised, Marie? I told you I wanted to talk to you as soon as I got back.”

She felt the flush creeping up her cheeks. “I just thought...where’s Jean?”

He rolled his neck restlessly, cracking the vertebrae. “She’s fine, just drugged up. She’s with Scott.”

“Scott?” Marie heard herself repeat stupidly.

Logan’s gaze sharpened on hers, suddenly intent. “Yeah, Scott.” He paused for a moment, still studying her. “Her husband,” he added.

“Oh, Logan...” Marie ducked her head, feeling like her heart was going to break all over again, this time for him. To have to live in the same house with the woman he loved when she was married to someone else...

His leather-gloved hand was firm on her chin, tilting her face up to his again. She felt her breath hitch in her chest as his thumb grazed up her cheekbone.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, Marie?” His rumbling voice was gentle, inquiring.

“I...” She stopped, confused.

He watched her for another long moment, and then his puzzled eyes suddenly lit with comprehension. A soft laugh, as he leaned his head against the doorframe.

“Fuckin’ firecracker.” His voice was rueful -- almost amused. “So Jubilee told you I had a thing for Jean? Is that what all this has been about?”

“It’s not her fault...I should have realized...”

“I’m comin’ in.” His voice was matter-of-fact as he practically pushed her backwards into the room, his warm body crowding her back toward the bed. He sat heavily on the edge of her bed, pulling his boots off.

“C’mere.” A strong arm around her waist, and he pulled her down to lie next to him on the bed.

“Logan...” she started, trying to sit up, but his hand came up, nestling her head against his shoulder.

“Hush.” His voice was a low rumble against her ear. “I’m about to start talkin’ about my feelings and shit and it don’t happen often, so get comfortable.”

“Hush.” His voice was a low rumble against her ear. “I’m about to start talkin’ about my feelings and shit and it don’t happen often, so get comfortable.”

She felt herself smile despite her emotional turmoil. She allowed herself to settle against him, enjoying his warmth and closeness as she fit up against his side, her arm around his waist. His chest rose and fell in a few deep, even breaths, and as exhausted as he had looked she wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep before he started talking again.

“I told you how I don’t really remember much before fifteen years ago, when I got the metal in me?”

She nodded, her cheek brushing against the warm leather of his jacket.

“I still don’t remember much of who I was before then, but I remember a lot of who I was after. And -- well, it wasn’t pretty.”

She tightened her arm around his waist, waiting for him to say more.

“First thing I remember, I was runnin’ naked through the woods. Snow everywhere, and blood pourin’ from my hands. The smell of death all over me, and I didn’t even know who I had killed. The feral side of me...it was pretty much all there was then. I lived like an animal for a long time. Months, maybe even close to a year, before I met some people who helped me out a little.”

She tried to imagine what it had been like for him, and couldn’t. Being without her memories had been terrifying enough, and she hadn’t even had to worry about cold and starvation...

“Even after that, when I had some control over the animal...the life I lived still wasn’t anythin’ to brag about. Driftin’ from place to place. Fightin’ people for money, even knowin’ nobody stood a chance against me, with the metal and the healin’.” He hesitated, but then continued. “Fuckin’ girls without even lookin’ at their faces.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I feel like I’m dirtyin’ you up by even tellin’ you this, Marie. But I need you to know about me -- all about me.”

She pressed closer to him. “Do you really think I’m so innocent, Logan? I know you read my file. You saw the way I lived for awhile -- the things I did, and the people I hurt. This damned toxic skin may have kept me a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I’m some angel. Especially with all the people I have in my head.”

She felt the growl start in his chest. “You think any of that matters to me? I know who you are. I know you, Marie.”

She looked up at his face in surprise, as his gaze burned into hers. He took a deep breath, visibly trying to relax the tension from his muscles. “Anyway...what I’m tryin’ to say is if you knew what I was back then -- how many years I lived like that, doing nothin’ worth a damn to anybody -- you’d understand how I felt when Xavier recruited me here. I thought he was crazy -- thinkin’ I could be around kids? Be some kind of good guy superhero?”

He sighed, and then shrugged. “I tried to pretend like I didn’t care, but I did. I wanted to belong here. To be the good guy. And Jean...she was everythin’ that I didn’t deserve. Smart, and classy, and...I don’t know, just different from everythin’ I was used to.”

Marie felt her heart sink. She must have tensed up -- or maybe he smelled her sorrow -- because he squeezed her reassuringly, his low voice rumbling in her ear again.

“Easy now, no need for that.” He rubbed his face in frustration. “I’m doing a shit job of it, but I’m trying to explain. When I came here, and met Jean, I felt like...I don’t know, like chasing after her might prove something. Prove that I’m the kind of guy someone like her would even give a second glance to.”

Marie gathered her courage. “Do you love her?”

He paused for a moment, and she braced herself for his answer. “Maybe I was half in love, but not with Jean -- not really.” His voice was meditative. “More with the idea of her, if that makes any sense.” A low, rumbling laugh tickled her ear. “And then flirting with her riled Scott, and that was a helluva lot of fun too.”

He pulled back, looking into her eyes. “Here’s what I’m trying to say. Jeannie is a great woman. She’s smart, and kind, and even someone to have at your back in a fight. But I don’t feel about her the way I feel about you. When I went to go get her, all I could think about was getting back here to you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted, his words pressured now, his voice thick with emotion. “Now, I know you have this other life of yours, and maybe there’s no place for me in it. But if you do wanna stay with me -- or have me stay with you -- you gotta know that you’re never second best.” He brushed his gloved hand through her hair and then cupped her cheek, his eyes burning into hers, intense and honest. “Never.”

A quick kiss to her lips, inhaling her gasp of surprise. “If you don’t wanna stay here because of Jeannie, we’ll go wherever you want. But I don’t want to lose you again, okay?”

Marie felt her heart racing, joy spreading slowly through her body. “I don’t want to lose you either. And I don’t want you to leave your home. I can finish my degree somewhere else. That other life I had -- it was lonely. I couldn’t really be myself with anyone.”

“I know you, Marie. You can be yourself with me.” Another kiss from him, slick and deep, until the tingle of her skin dampened her joy.

She pushed back a little, sitting up. “And what about that?”

“Huh?” His gloved hand brushed up her neck, making her shiver, but she had to get this out.

“My skin. How long until that’s a problem? Until you get tired of being careful, and want someone...”-- her breath hitched on the word -- “...touchable.”

“I want you, Marie.” She should have heeded the warning in the growl of his voice, but she was too caught up in her own fear. She stood up, starting to pace as she struggled to get the words out.

“You don’t really know yet -- what my skin really means. Never being able to relax. Never being able to get...as close as you want to be. Being toxic all the time. How long until that wears you down? Unless...” Her eyes unconsciously strayed to the bandaid on her arm.

“Sonuvabitch.” He stood up, stalking towards her. “Hank told you about the cure? Marie, how can you even consider that?”

She stood her ground, her fists clenched at her side. “How could I not? I know it’s still experimental, but -- the chance to be normal? To be able to touch you, without fear? What wouldn’t I give for that?!”

His expression softened. He pulled her to him, nuzzling into her hair. “You don’t have to be scared, Marie. Not of hurtin’ me. And you don’t need to take that kind of risk, takin’ a drug you know nothin’ about. Your skin is part of you. You’re not toxic. You’re beautiful.”

He turned her around, facing her toward the standing mirror in the corner. “Look.”

“I’m a mess!” she protested, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and tangled hair quickly before averting her gaze.

“No,” he growled. “Look.”

His warm gloved hand gently nudged her chin up. She reluctantly lifted her head, her eyes meeting his fierce gaze in the mirror. Her breath stopped in her throat as she watched his eyes brush her reflected image from head to toe, feeling the path of his gaze as if it were a physical touch. Then his gloved hand followed where his gaze had led -- down her cheek to spread warm against her throat, barely brushing her breast and making her shudder, grazing down her side, curling in a firm grip around her hip.

She watched their reflection, spellbound, as his head dipped to nuzzle her neck, his stubbled jaw tickling at the skin while his mouth nipped and sucked. She saw the color rise in her own cheeks, her chest rising and falling with the pressure of her suddenly unsteady breaths. His massive frame was largely in shadow, dwarfing hers, making her feel suddenly fragile.

“Beautiful Marie,” he breathed into the skin of her neck, breaking off contact as soon as the tingle started. She watched, entranced, as his gloved hand strayed under the edge of her sweatshirt, exposing the pale skin of her belly. His hungry gaze met hers in the mirror again as his hand cupped her breast, weakening her knees, causing her head to fall back against his shoulder. Her eyes drifted shut as sensation started to overtake her.

“Don’t look away.” The low command caused her eyelids to flutter open again, meeting his dark gaze in the mirror again. “I want you to see what I see.” With a sudden movement he stripped the sweatshirt from her body, leaving her naked from the waist up, her pale skin gleaming against the dark leather of his uniform jacket. His eyes darkened further as he saw his tags, glinting silver in the valley between her breasts. He growled low with approval.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, a warm gloved finger tracing the line of the chain. “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re mine.” His rough voice caused a rush of warmth to spread through her body, thick and rich and honey-sweet. She shuddered as his gloved hand continued to roam her body, dark against her ivory skin as his mouth nibbled a path down the tender skin of her neck.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Marie. And you’re not gonna hurt me.” She saw the flush spreading from her cheeks down her neck as his thumb flicked her nipple, causing a burst of sensation.

“Logan...”

“Say it,” he coaxed. “I want to hear you say it.”

She reached an arm up, running her gloved hand through his hair, watching in the mirror as the action made her breasts rise eagerly into his waiting hand. Another low growl in response, the reverberations traveling down her neck, igniting a flame low in her belly. She saw her own reflection smile with the knowledge of what she could do to him, the deep brown eyes of the girl in the mirror suddenly hooded and mysterious.

“Say it, Marie.” His voice was hoarse, his own control fraying.

His hand drifted lower as she leaned back against him, feeling his warm hard body pressed against the full length of her back. He grunted as her soft body pressed hard against his, his breath roughening.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Logan.” Her voice sounded unfamiliar to her -- soft and husky with wanting.

“Good. Now the rest.”

His hand strayed lower as he ducked his head, his lips clinging to hers as he breathed in her gasp of pleasure. “I...” Her words dissolved into a guttural moan as his hand dipped under the waistband of her sweatpants, pressing against her slick skin.

“Tell me, Marie.”

“I...I’m not going to hurt you.”

He rewarded her with a slow, delicious circle of his thumb.

His lips met hers again, his kiss deep and soft and lingering...lingering...until finally Marie drew back in alarm.

He growled again in warning, moving in front of her and crowding her until her back was against the wall. “You don’t believe it yet. But you will. I’m gonna touch you until you believe it.” He wrenched the mirror around until it was fully facing them, and then rested his hands on the wall on either side of her body, hemming her in.

“Logan...”

He silenced her with kisses until her head spun, the flame in her belly burning higher. “Trust me, Marie. Trust yourself.” He licked down her collarbone, and then his mouth was at her breasts, laving and sucking. She felt the wall cool against her shoulderblades as she sagged against it, transfixed by the image in the mirror of his dark head at her breast, his hands restlessly moving across her body.

He suddenly unzipped his uniform jacket and pulled it off, leaving himself bare to the waist except for his gloves.

All that bare skin...her fascination warred with her fear. “Are you sure...” she started.

“Hush.” More kisses, clouding her mind, chasing away the fear until only delicious sweet desire was left. She let her gloved hands roam over his strong neck, his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. He closed his eyes, groaning under her touch. She dipped her head and licked his nipple, glorying in the growl that elicited from him.

In a swift movement he lifted her up, pinning her against the wall with his lower body, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist. She gasped at the delicious pressure in just the right spot, as he pushed hard into her, both of them groaning at the sensation.

His mouth took hers again, his kiss blazing this time, possessive, as he pushed into her again and again, her body finding the rhythm and grinding hard against him in return. Her head rested back against the wall and she caught a glimpse of them again in the mirror -- the rippling muscles of his back tensing and flexing as he pushed into her, her gloved hands gripping his strong shoulders, her own face flushed with desire, hair falling around her bare breasts as he moved strongly against her.

Raw, sweet pleasure burst through her with every movement of their bodies. This time her lips sought his, boldly kissing him as her hand cupped his jaw, feeling the stubble prickle through the silk of her gloves. She felt the tension winding higher, her breathless gasps echoing the rough noises Logan was making in the back of his throat. Suddenly his movements slowed, and then stopped.

She pushed against him, restlessly, frantically. “Logan...please...”

A sharp nip to her neck, and then his voice rumbling in her ear. “Marie...look.”

She followed his gaze down, her breath stopping in her throat at the sight of his bare hand against her skin. “Your glove. When...”

“A few minutes ago.”

The tingle started and he shifted his bare hand off her skin, giving her time to think, lowering her to stand back on her feet. His ungloved hand brushed over her hair tenderly, soothingly.

“It’s fear, darlin’. Your mutation’s defensive. Think about it -- from the time your mutation kicked in, have you ever touched someone without bein’ afraid of hurtin’ them, or them hurtin’ you?”

“I...” She felt like her world had just tilted on its axis. She was suddenly lightheaded, her blood thrumming in her veins, and his hands gripped her more firmly as she swayed.

“Easy, now.” He guided her to the bed, sitting her down.

Her stunned eyes met his. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t, not really. But when you were unconscious your mutation didn’t work, and then some times it took longer to kick in than others. It made me wonder.”

She tried to pull a coherent thought from the jumble in her mind. “I can...control it?”

He nuzzled her hair a little. “It’s okay if you can’t, Marie. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. But I think maybe you can, if you can learn not to be afraid.” A gleam of his teeth in the semi-darkness as he smiled wolfishly. “Or if I can keep you distracted enough.”

A sound escaped her that was half a giggle and half a sob. She shook her head in amazement. “Just...don’t be afraid?”

He nodded. “Might not be so easy. The fear is so reflexive for you now. But Marie -- you can’t hurt me. Even if you slip, you can’t hurt me. I’ll heal. You just have to believe it.”

She sat up a little straighter, sucking in a deep breath, wiping her eyes, getting herself under control. She lifted her head and looked at him -- his still-bare chest, his ruffled hair, the stretch of the muscles in his arm where his weight was braced, those golden hazel eyes. Logan.

“I can touch,” she said, her voice halting at first, but gaining certainty with each word. “I can touch you.”

His eyes darkened again at her words. “God, Marie. Yeah.” His muscles were wound tight with restraint, his voice rough as his hot gaze met hers. “You can touch me.”

She felt as if she were watching herself from a distance -- surely she would not be bold enough to do this -- as she drew the glove from one hand, and then the other. She started with just one finger, resting the barest, lightest touch against the back of his hand, ready to pull back at any moment. I can touch, she repeated to herself. I won’t hurt him.

The seconds stretched out endlessly, but each moment without the tingle gave her more confidence. I can touch.

She traced a light pattern on the back of his hand, drinking in the sight of her bare skin touching his. Growing bolder, she placed the tips of all five fingers firmly against his skin, enjoying the warmth and texture of it. She drew her fingertips down between his knuckles, where the claws emerged, and he shuddered, closing his eyes. “Marie...”

“Hush.” She felt the slow smile on her lips as she used his own words to tease him, rubbing her thumb on the pad of flesh at the base of his palm and then lifting his hand in hers. A brush of her lips on the back of his hand and then she opened his fingers, placing a soft, sucking kiss to his palm, ending with a sharp nip to the pad of flesh she had rubbed. He groaned, his fingers tightening reflexively on hers.

She looked him over consideringly, giddy with her new-found power. “Lie back,” she whispered.

A reflexive low growl from him and then he visibly reined himself in, moving back to lie down in the center of the bed. She knew this submission was difficult for him -- his muscles were bunched with tension, his hands clenched in fists -- but he seemed determined to let her set the pace. She saw him turn his head, inhaling the scent of her from the pillows.

She kneeled next to him, taking in the way he looked in the dim light. Something hot and needy unfurled in her belly at the sight -- that magnificent body and all that beautiful, unmarked skin, hers to explore. She reached up slowly, reverently, feeling the texture of his wild hair for the first time, rough and silky all at once. Her nails scraped his scalp, and he closed his eyes and practically purred, pushing up into her touch.

She trailed her palm down his cheek, feeling his prickly stubbled jaw for the first time without the barrier of silk between them. She stroked her fingers down the muscles cording his throat, smiling again as a rumble that he couldn’t seem to suppress tickled her palm. She spread her hand over his shoulder, feeling the coiled muscles there flexing under her touch as he shifted restlessly. The rumble got louder as she felt the crinkly texture of his chest hair, his nipple hardening under her palm as he bucked his hips uncontrollably at her touch.

“Marie...” His raspy voice was half a plea and half a warning. She leaned over him, hearing the tags around her neck clink together as she took his nipple in her mouth, licking and sucking at it as he twisted underneath her. She felt seductive, powerful. I can touch. I can touch him. She reveled in every hitch she caused in his breath, in the thin film of sweat forming on his brow, in the rough noises she was forcing from his throat. She wanted to make him frantic.

She sat back again, trailing a hand down the tight leather of his pants where they stretched over his hip, watching him buck again at her touch. She trailed the hand lower and lower, grazing his inner thigh, and then stopped to teasingly pull off his socks.

“Dammit, Marie...” His eyes glittered with warning.

“Sorry, sugar.” He growled softly again at the sound of her honeyed drawl, his hands restlessly clenching fistfuls of the blankets. She relented, trailing her hand back up and pressing on the firm ridge at the front of his pants, feeling his body hard and eager under her hand. He groaned, pushing up into her hand even harder, the leather almost as warm as she knew his skin would be.

“Marie...” Another plea, growled like a command, as she traced the shape of him and then scraped her fingernails down the rigid length under the taut leather. “Christ, Marie, yes...” The words dissolved into gruff, inarticulate sounds of wanting as she stroked him lazily, her mind spinning with all the things she wanted to do to him.

The scent of him was all around her as she straddled his hips, drinking in his grunt of satisfaction as her weight settled on him, leaning in low to breathe the words against his lips. “I want to touch you, Logan.” A slow roll of her hips, sending hot desire spiking through her so sharply she had to close her eyes against it. She took in a deep breath, opening her eyes again, another thick current of desire running through her as she saw the expression of fierce pleasure on his face. She licked gently at his lips, and then a deep slick swipe of her tongue into his warm mouth. “I want to taste you.”

Something flared bright and gold in his eyes before he closed them, pushing up into her again. “Fuck, Marie. Yeah. All of that, darlin’.” Another sharp jerk of his hips, sending pleasure jolting through her. “Please, baby.”

She pushed back a bit, carefully unfastening his pants -- her own breath short now, her hands shaking with eagerness. They both sighed as she finally freed him from the tight leather and then she was touching him. Softly at first, taking in the velvet-and-steel feeling of him, and then more firmly, watching his jaw clench, corded muscles standing out in his neck as he threw his head back in reaction.

She leaned down, letting her hot breath brush his sensitive skin. Then she was taking him into her mouth -- licking gently, then sucking hard, gauging his reaction by the low, guttural words she forced from his throat.

“Fuck, baby...ah God, Marie...just like that...oh, fuck darlin’...so good...”

She let her hand wander over him, grasping the back of his thigh, then rubbing a deep slow circle at the base of his spine. She felt his control fray and suddenly he could no longer keep his hands from her. His fingers traced gently through her hair, down her neck, everywhere that he could reach.

“Christ, Marie...”

She lapped at him gently, teasing him, feeling him wind tighter and tighter with tension beneath her hands and mouth. Another swirl of her tongue and a deep, slow suck of his body into her mouth and something in him seemed to snap. He grasped her upper arms, pulling her up his body in a delicious slow slide of skin against skin. He tumbled her under him, pulling her sweatpants off in one smooth motion, kicking his pants off to join them. She lay breathless beneath him, taking in the feel of his whole body pressed tight against hers -- her breasts grazing his chest, belly flattened against his, his hard length snugged tight against her most sensitive skin.

He looked down at her, smoothing her hair, and then pressed his forehead to hers in a gesture so tender it made something twist inside her. His voice was a low strained whisper. “I want to make this good for you, Marie.”

She took his face between her hands, kissing him gently. “It is.” A press of her hips up against his, sending a luscious rush of sensation through her own body and making him groan into her mouth. “You are.”

He buried his face in her neck, pulling in a shuddering breath as she opened her thighs to him. The first slow press of his body into hers and she held her breath as the stretch and the burn of it warred with the pleasure of having him at last. Suddenly she felt her skin tingle and tried to pull away. “Logan!”

His hands stilled her, tenderly but firmly. “No, baby. It’s okay. You’re not gonna hurt me.” He muttered the words into her neck as he moved gently against her, building the pleasure as the pain faded. “God, even that -- it’s you, Marie -- fuck, it feels so good.” He moved his mouth to her breast as his hips continued their gentle rocking movements, and she caught a ghost of his feelings just as the burst of pleasure ended her skin’s defensive response.

Marie...mine...mine..so good...softwarmsweet...my Marie...

She realized with shock that even the feel of her skin activating held no fear for him. She let the rush of his devotion and acceptance and joy wash over her, and the pain was gone, leaving only a deep flicker of pleasure in its wake. She tentatively moved in counterpoint to each undulation of his body, trying to catch the rhythm, hushed excited noises escaping her with every push of their hips.

He was murmuring soft words now, urging her on. “That’s it darlin’...move with me...just like that, and...ah, God, Marie...” His movements were growing stronger now, each luxurious glide of his body into hers pushing her higher, the slow build from earlier intensified now to an almost unbearable level, and yet still she wanted more.

She scraped her nails down his back, urging him on. “More. Harder.” Every word was forced out of her by the hard press of his body into hers. “All of you.” He groaned again, pulling her thigh up high against his waist, pressing deeper, but still she sensed the ruthless control he was exerting to keep himself in check.

This time -- this first time -- she knew what she wanted from him. Her voice was urgent through the haze of desire as she breathlessly insisted. “Logan. All of you.”

He raised himself on one arm, still continuing the deep steady rhythm, holding her head with a hand wound through her hair as his dark gaze met hers. A moment of sudden stillness as he searched her eyes for the truth of it. Then he bared his teeth, throwing his head back, and she felt the relief roll through him as he finally let the animal surge forward -- his eyes burning gold and feral, his movements becoming rough and uncontrolled.

“Mine!” he growled into her throat, licking at the skin, and she bared her neck in submission as his words sent a raw shock of pleasure through her body. His head came up to look at her again, the feral eyes watchful. She wound her hands in his hair, knowing exactly what he sought. “Yours,” she breathed. “Only yours.” The golden gaze glittered with satisfaction as he took her mouth again in an invasive possessive kiss.

He was fucking her deeply, urgently now. It felt so good, the way he was filling her up, his body moving in hers, his hands on her skin, his huffing breaths and gruff snarls hot against her lips. Each rush of sensation combined and built into an overwhelming thick hot swell of pleasure, until finally she let it take her. She shuddered and spasmed, slurring his name into his mouth as her body clutched at his in complete abandon.

She felt a tremor pass through him, his growls turning into a roar of triumph as he ground into her mindlessly. He sucked hard at her neck and she heard the metallic slide of his claws. His teeth bit sharply down on the numbed skin, and then he was coming hard, growling her name against the excited thrum of her pulse as he spilled into her body. She clasped him to her, feeling convulsive shudders of pleasure move through the taut muscles of his back as he pulsed wetly inside her for endless moments.

She felt incapable of movement, boneless and sated as he sheathed the claws and slid reluctantly from her body. He lowered himself beside her, his massive frame still shaking as he rested his head on her breast. She tried to steady her panting breaths, enjoying the feel of his stubbled jaw against her skin, tracing her nails though his wild hair.

He nuzzled into her, licking a path up her collarbone and then sighing with satisfaction into her ear. She turned her head to look at him, smiling, and he suddenly tensed.

“Logan?” she asked.

He raised himself on his elbow, his eyes guarded. He slowly reached out, brushing her hair back from her neck, and she felt the sting as the damp hair unstuck from his bite.

“Marie...” She saw the self-loathing creeping into his eyes and voice, and hated it.

“No.” The sharpness of her voice startled him, finally tearing his eyes from the bite to look at her. “Don’t you dare apologize. Not for anything.”

His expression was resigned now, regretful. “I hurt you, Marie.” His hand brushed gently down her body, and she knew he was worried about more than the bite.

“No.” She propped herself up on her elbow to face him, pulling the thick hank of her hair over the other shoulder, proudly displaying his mark. “Dammit, Logan. You’re all talk. Telling me my skin is beautiful, that I need to accept it. Well, you need to accept some things too.”

Her voice softened, her hand reaching out to cup his jaw. “You’re beautiful too, sugar. Wolverine, your feral side, whatever you want to call it. All of you. That’s what I wanted. Don’t you dare apologize for giving it to me.”

She captured his hand, pressing it hard against the bite even as he tried to pull away. She gasped at the jolt of pleasure-pain, watching his eyes dilate as his gaze grew hot, knowing he could smell it on her. She shivered as seemingly against his own will his thumb brushed lightly over the mark of his teeth on her skin.

“You didn’t hurt me, sugar. You marked me.” She saw the flicker of surprise cross his face, and a slow smile spread across her lips. She didn’t even know how she knew, but she did. As much as he knew her, she knew him too. “You didn’t think I would understand?” She tilted her head, deliberately displaying the mark further, watching his eyes snap there. “I understand. It means I’m yours.”

She saw something flare again in his eyes, hot and dark. “Yours,” she repeated huskily. “And you’re mine.” She brushed her hair back again and eased back down to lie beneath him, knowing he would understand the gesture of total submission. She saw him lean forward unconsciously, and then pull himself back. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “I know what you want. Taste me.”

A low soft growl from him, and then he was snuffling at her neck, breathing in her scent. She felt his tongue, rough and flat, licking at the bite, chasing away the traces of blood and pain with soothing laps of his tongue. Her toes curled with the pleasure of it, but she lay still beneath him until he stopped. With a final sinuous lick he drew back, slowly coming to lie beside her. He placed his hand along her cheek, looking a little shaken, but she could see the relief and satisfaction in his eyes, warring with the shame. It was enough for now. She turned her head, placing a kiss in his palm.

She ran her hand through his hair, and he closed his eyes, rumbling with pleasure at her touch. She would never get used to this, never take it for granted. “You’re tired, sugar. You sleep now.” She didn’t entirely trust herself still, but he made no argument as she pulled her gloves back on, wrapping herself fully in the sheet before lying back down. He pulled her back into the warmth of his body, and she felt him bury his face in her hair, sighing softly in appreciation, his fingers lacing through hers as they both slid into sleep.

Logan felt himself slowly surfacing from sleep and burrowed deeper into his pillow, trying to cling to this gauzy feeling of delicious lethargy and bone-deep satisfaction. An unaccustomed sense of peace and warmth surrounded him -- his whole body felt languid and relaxed.

He drew in a deep, contented breath and felt it rumble out of him in a happy purr as a luscious scent washed over him. He tightened his arms around a warm, soft shape, and buried his nose deeper, instinctively imprinting the most delectable scent he had ever experienced. Marie. Himself. Sex.

He inhaled the heady mixture of scents until he was dizzy with it. He pulled Marie closer to him, pressing happily against her, a pleasant spike of arousal pushing him further toward waking. Finally he pried open one eye, and was rewarded by the vision of Marie, still sleeping in his arms.

A pinkish-yellow beam of light was filtering through a gap in the curtains, illuminating her velvet skin with a golden glow. He had returned from the mission in the late afternoon, they must have slept all through the evening and night. Logan lifted himself on one elbow, the better to see Marie in the dawn light.

She looked adorably innocent and yet thoroughly debauched at the same time -- the tangle of her dark lashes, her lips slightly swollen by the force of his kisses, skin pinkened by the scrape of his stubbled jaw, hair rumpled where his hands had wound through the silken strands.

The sheet she had wrapped so carefully around herself had loosened during the night, exposing the graceful sweep of her spine. He toyed briefly with the idea of licking down that path, but he didn’t want to wake her yet. Instead, he brushed his fingers lightly down the curve of her back, rumbling again with appreciation when her skin accepted his touch, even in sleep. Although he had to admit that the tingle of her skin, so uniquely hers, was actually quite erotic at times...

She murmured something indistinct and turned over, her arm falling laxly beside her, palm up. Icy fear spiked through him as he saw the bruises, blooming purple on her pale wrist. Yajyuu, he cursed himself. Beast.

His heart racing in his chest, he thought back over the night -- his own memories clear and distinct, those of the Wolverine somewhat fuzzier but more intense, more emotional -- vividly colored with scent and sound and taste and feel.

He urgently searched his recollection, finally realizing that although he had instinctively marked her with his bite, his hands on her body had been as gentle as he knew how. He remembered now how she had struggled against Marcus’s grip as he dragged her toward the cage. He had killed that fucker too quickly.

He hung his head in relief, calming his breathing, letting her nearness soothe him. Christ, as much as people considered him an animal, his savagery in the past had always been characterized by an icy control. He had never been as vulnerable to his emotions as he was now. He felt like he was constantly careening from joy to panic, every action by Marie sending him helplessly in a new direction.

Even now, seeing those bruises on her delicate wrist, thinking how close she had come to being entirely under Shaw’s control -- his pulse jumped again, an icy sweat prickling over his skin. Feeling about her the way he did -- it was like having another heart, beating outside his body, exposed and vulnerable. He wanted desperately to protect her, but the spectre of Shaw loomed over them both. This wouldn’t end until Shaw was dead, and killing Shaw was no easy task.

Suppressing a frustrated growl, he sank back onto the bed and gathered her close, her small body feeling unbearably fragile in the cage of his arms. His large dark hands, so exquisitely suited for mayhem and destruction, seemed incongruous against her tender skin.

Still half-asleep, she nuzzled into his chest, her nose wrinkling at the texture of his chest hair against her skin. He huffed a soft laugh at her confused expression as her eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin’, baby.”

She pulled back a little with a gasp, the tingle of her mutation sending a delicious shiver up his spine. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her up against his skin again. “Easy, darlin’.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and he felt the tingle fade. When she opened her eyes again they were lit with happiness. A wide smile spread across her face, making something warm expand in his chest.

“I did it,” she said, her voice husky with sleep and soft with wonder. “I stopped it.”

“Yeah, baby.” He heard the rasp of emotion in his own voice and buried his face in her hair, trying to comfort himself with her scent. She’s here, she’s safe. I won’t let him get her.

“Sugar?” She pulled back, rubbing her thumb soothingly over the furrow between his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He meant to kiss her softly, gently, but before he knew it his kiss had turned desperate and urgent. She opened beneath his mouth, soft and sweet and warm, the taste of her intoxicating. He pressed against her and she made the sweetest sound he had ever heard, a soft gasp of joy and wonder. He groaned against her lips, pulling her luscious body tight against him, feeling like he could never get close enough. My beautiful Marie.

“Logan.” Xavier’s voice, crisp with tension, rang through his head.

Logan startled, his whole body tensing for a moment. “Fuck,” he muttered into her skin.

He pulled back, looking into Marie’s confused eyes as an icy shiver of premonition slid up his spine. He forced his hands to be gentle, stroking a reassuring path down her back when he wanted nothing more than to crush her fiercely against his body, sheltering her from whatever the future would bring. “I think Shaw just made his move.”

__________________________

The War Room was packed when they arrived. Xavier stopped speaking in midsentence.

“Logan. Rogue. Welcome. Please join us.”

Marie balked momentarily at the sight of so many people, and felt Logan’s arm tighten around her. He guided them to two empty chairs at the conference table, pulling her chair closer to his.

“Logan, I was briefing the others on the intel you gathered from Shaw’s mansion -- particularly related to the mutants he employs and their powers. Now that you are both here we can view the message he has sent. But...” -- his ice-blue eyes settled gravely on Marie -- “...I must warn you it is quite disturbing.”

Marie had not thought she could be any more tense, but her gut clenched with fear at Charles’s warning. Logan’s warm hand sought hers, squeezing reassuringly. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her roiling stomach, keeping her voice level and calm with an effort. “I brought this down on you all. I need to know.”

Xavier nodded without surprise. The screen behind him had been filled with dossier pictures of Shaw’s thugs, but with a few taps of a keyboard the image changed to that of Shaw. Rogue felt a visceral reaction to the sight of him -- her skin crawling, the nausea in her gut kicking higher. He smiled blandly out from the screen, dressed in a crisp linen suit.

Xavier tapped one more key and the video started.

“Charles Xavier. I am sorry we have not had the chance to meet, I have heard so many wonderful things about you. I find myself regretful that you of all people have chosen to interfere with my affairs in such a manner.” Shaw shook his head in mock sorrow.

“But, we are both men of reason, and I have no doubt that we can reach an agreement. I know that you have Rogue, and Jean Grey, and Wolverine. I want them back. All of them.” His cold eyes snapped with anger, a steely note entering his voice. “You have 24 hours to deliver them. After that I will come and take them.”

He paused, sucking in a breath through his nose, his voice carefully bland again when he spoke. “I am sure you know about me, just as I know about you. But in case you have any doubts about my abilities, I have arranged a demonstration.”

He stepped forward, the camera following his action, and Rogue realized with another lurch of fear that he was in the stables. “No,” she heard herself breathe, knowing how futile her protestations were. Frozen in dread, she watched Shaw pause at the door to Bonny’s stall, brushing a careless finger down his neck. Bonny whickered, stretching his neck, as Shaw’s finger glowed brighter and brighter. The whicker turned into a heart-rending squeal as the glow spread through the horse’s body, his form thrashing as the glow intensified, until suddenly he simply disintegrated, falling away in a shower of ashes.

Shaw leaned back against the stall door casually, addressing the camera again. “But I understand, Charles Xavier, that you are a high-minded man. Perhaps you need even greater...encouragement...to be practical.”

He nodded to someone offscreen, and Marie heard a gasp and then a sob from Kitty as a woman was dragged towards Shaw, whimpers of fear muffled by the gag across her mouth. Marie herself was too shocked to even make a sound. Melinda. The woman’s name flitted across her stunned mind. She was just another one of the hangers-on Shaw had collected, shallow but harmless.

Melinda’s white-rimmed eyes were wide with panic. Marie recognized Azazel’s clawed red hands pushing her forward, one hand wrenching her hair back, the other arm wrapped solidly around her waist. Melinda struggled against his hold, wrists apparently tied behind her back. She began to sob in earnest as she got closer to Shaw, choked shuddering breaths leaking out past the gag, snot bubbling at her nose.

“I understand the Wolverine had a particular affinity for this one. Such a shame.” Shaw’s glowing finger brushed Melinda’s cheek and as the glow spread Marie finally managed to look away, burying her face in Logan’s shoulder. His warm hand came up to cup the back of her head and she felt the vibration of his low growl against her cheek. She breathed in his scent, desperately swallowing down bile as Melinda’s muffled scream rang out through the hushed room and then suddenly ceased. Shaking, she forced herself to look at the screen again as Shaw’s cold voice continued.

“Twenty-four hours, Xavier. And then I come for them. For you. And for your children. Not just at the mansion, but everywhere. The safe house in Rome? The sister academy in San Francisco? I have a telepath too, how confident are you that you can hide them from me, even after your death?” He nodded a final acknowledgement to the camera. “I await your response.”

The War Room erupted in hushed murmurs as Xavier tapped the screen to black.

“Thoughts?” Xavier prompted calmly.

Logan realized his grip must be painfully tight on Marie’s arm, and loosened it with an effort. Still, he heard his own voice emerge as a rough snarl. “He’s full of shit. If he knows the first thing about you, he knows that you’d never turn over Rogue and Jean. He’s either trying to catch us off-guard in the next twenty-four hours, or he’s just toying with us.”

Xavier’s eyes grew distant as he considered Shaw’s motives. “Perhaps. Or perhaps his own disregard for the lives of a few is coloring his judgment of how others might act.”

Scott’s voice was crisp and decisive. “We need to attack within the twenty-four hour time frame. Keep the battle away from here as much as we can. Logan has given us the schematics of Shaw’s mansion.”

Ororo’s usually-gentle voice was steely with determination. “I’d like to see what this Whirlwind can do.”

“Da.” Piotr looked at Kitty. “If I stay shielded and Kitty stays phased, Azazel will not be able to harm us, and perhaps we can disable him.”

Xavier nodded. “I believe that I can block Emma’s psychic abilities sufficiently. Allow her to see only what we would wish her to see.”

Logan felt a tremor run through Marie. She suddenly shoved to her feet, the sharp smell of her fear and sorrow intensifying. “No!” She took in a deep shuddering breath. “You can’t do this...just...go in, guns blazing! It doesn’t matter what you could do against the others -- Sebastian could decimate you all, in a heartbeat. I can’t just let you all die.”

Xavier’s calm voice cut off Logan’s growl. “I understand your concern, Rogue. But what are you suggesting -- sacrificing yourself? And Jean? And Wolverine? And what of the rest of the world, if Shaw achieves his objective, and gains the power of the Phoenix?”

Marie hung her head, her desolation making Logan’s heart wrench.

Hank’s thoughtful voice interrupted the subsequent silence. “But Rogue is correct, in that any plan that does not begin by stopping Shaw is doomed to fail.”

Scott looked around the table, eyebrows furrowed in concentration above his visor. “So, what can stop Shaw?”

Marie raised her head, her face set with determination. “I can.”

___________________

Logan paced the confines of his room while Marie sat still and silent in the armchair in the corner. He had practically dragged her up here, and yet he couldn’t force out the words that were burning in his chest.

On some level he knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. In the War Room he had argued and growled, snarled and cajoled -- and she had responded to every attempt at persuasion or intimidation with a clear, steady resolve. She was determined on this plan, determined to risk herself to face Shaw. At the very thought of it his blood roared in his ears, claws itching in his forearms until he had to spring them to relieve the pressure.

She jumped a little as the claws snicked out, and he felt like shit. He sheathed the claws with an effort, leaning his head back wearily against the wall. He wasn’t trying to bully her. Well, not much. He was just desperate to keep her safe.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force down his own fear for her so he could talk to her rationally, while the Wolverine was howling at the thought of being unable to protect his mate. My mate. He hadn’t really realized until this moment, and to understand what he had found only now, when he might lose her...

“I don’t want you to do this, Marie,” he finally ground out.

A soft sigh from her and the salty scent of her sorrow intensified. “I know,” she said gently.

He felt more than heard her stand up and then she was at his side, her slender arms wrapping around his waist. A shudder passed through him and then he held her tight, leaning her body into his as he rested back against the wall.

“Do you think I don’t feel the same?” She spoke the words softly into his shirt. “That I wouldn’t give anything to keep you safe? Neither of us chose this, sugar, but this is where we are. And this is the only way forward.”

He pressed her closer to his body, trying desperately to find some argument that he had missed, some other way out of the situation they were in. Finally he simply lowered his head to her hair, breathing in her scent.

“I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was low and rough, and he felt her shiver.

“I know, sugar. I don’t want to lose you either.” She raised her head, and he saw in her eyes the almost preternaturally calm determination that had filled her from the time she first devised the plan.

“I want to be sure you know, though, sugar...” She stopped and smiled despite the shine of tears in her eyes, kissing him gently on the lips. “Logan. No matter what happens, I don’t regret anything. We had this.” -- another kiss, deeper, more urgent. “Even if it was just for a little while, you gave this to me. And I’m so happy to have had it.”

“Goddammit, Marie, don’t.” He felt like he was choking, drowning. “Don’t say goodbye.”

This time he kissed her -- desperately, almost violently. He felt like she was the very breath to his body as he turned, pushing her hard up against the wall, grinding into her, trying to communicate everything he felt and couldn’t say with the force of his body.

He sensed nothing but acceptance from her -- she kept her body pliant against him, breathing a soft willing murmur into his mouth as she let his turbulent outburst pass through her. Her hands traced through his hair as she responded to his onslaught with such sweetness that he couldn’t help but gentle his actions. He could feel her resolve like water, clear and cool, giving the appearance of yielding and yet unchanging, wearing away stone.

Finally he drew back, leaving both of them panting as he buried his face into her neck. He felt the hitch in her breath and knew that she was close to tears, and would not let him see them. A harsh, desperate growl escaped him as she tightened her arms around him with a finality that made something inside of him break.

“Okay, then, sugar,” she said. “No goodbyes. Just...thanks.”

She pressed a final kiss to his lips, and slipped from his arms.

He watched the door shut hollowly behind her, clenching his jaw hard, choking down the forlorn howl that threatened to escape him.

___________

Rogue drove the truck up the path to the east gate, skidding to a stop just before the metal barrier with a spray of gravel.

She kicked the truck’s door open and reached back inside, half-dragging a woozy-looking Jean across the gear shift and out the driver’s side door with her. She tightened one hand in Jean’s hair, the other hand clenched on the grip of the gun.

She walked within a few feet of the startled guard who stood with his gun only half-raised.

“Get Shaw,” she barked.

They all stood in frozen silence until Shaw’s sleek car purred down the track. Shaw cautiously stepped out of the low-slung vehicle, Emma close behind him.

Rogue sneered at his hesitation as he approached the gate. “Rogue...” he began.

“Shut up!” she interrupted. “Here’s the deal. Not Xavier’s deal, not your deal, just mine.”

She forced Jean to her knees in the gravel. “You had to know an ivory-tower idealist like Xavier would never turn us over, so I have to assume that your message was aimed at me -- and I heard it loud and clear. So here’s my offer. Here’s Jean. And here I am.”

He seemed to finally be regaining his composure, raising a sardonic eyebrow. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

She stepped forward, pulling Jean with her, ignoring her cry of pain as her knees skidded on the gravel. “Like I said, not your deal. Mine. And the deal is, the Wolverine lives.”

She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a jump drive, holding it up. “From Xavier’s files. The locations of five other superhealers. You don’t need it to be the Wolverine.”

Shaw’s face was still cautious, but he nodded at the guard, who caught the drive as Marie tossed it. “Am I to believe that Xavier authorized this exchange?”

“Of course not. But don’t you think a man like him could have stopped me if he really wanted? As long as someone else does his dirty work for him, he can be quite pragmatic.”

Shaw looked at Emma. She hesitated, her eyes still locked on Rogue, her brow furrowed in concentration. “She’s always been hard to read...” She narrowed her eyes and Rogue flinched at the stab of pain from her telepathic intrusion. “But she is telling the truth, in that she’d do anything to spare the Wolverine’s life.”

Shaw’s tension seemed to ease a bit at this pronouncement. “Well, well, well, Rogue,” he chuckled. “So love has brought you low, has it? But tell me, what exactly do you plan to do if I refuse this generous offer of yours?”

Without hesitation Rogue lifted the gun to her own head. “I end all your plans right now.”

Shaw took a surprised step back, and then looked at Emma again.

“Go ahead,” Rogue said. “Ask her if I’m bluffing. You said it yourself -- the life I had wasn’t much to lose anyway.”

Emma’s voice was shocked and urgent. “It’s true -- she would die for him.”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe it. For months I kept you here...”

“Not me,” Rogue hissed. “Just what was left, after Emma took away my memories. You haven’t really met me. The walls are down now. You have no idea what I’m capable of, Sebastian.”

He took another step towards her, but she saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Killing yourself, maybe. Suicide is always the answer for the weak. But killing someone else? You’re bluffing.”

Rogue reached down and yanked Jean to her feet by her hair. Slowly, deliberately, she drew her glove off with her teeth.

“Rogue...please...you don’t have to do this...” Jean sobbed.

Without hesitation, Rogue placed her palm flat against Jean’s cheek. A moment of tense stillness from them all, and then Jean started to scream, black veins spreading through her cheek and down her neck. The scream choked off as she began to convulse, falling to her knees, Rogue mercilessly tightening her hold until Jean lay still on the ground.

Rogue straightened up, twin golden flames burning in her dark eyes.

Shaw paled. “Phoenix...” he breathed.

Rogue turned the gun back to her own head. “So what’s your answer, Sebastian?”

“Open the gate!” Shaw barked. The guard stumbled forward, pulling the metal gate open. Rogue strode forward confidently, leaving Jean’s body lying in the gravel.

Emma pulled at Shaw’s sleeve. “Sebastian, are you sure...”

He shrugged her off impatiently. “Of course I’m sure. This is everything we planned for!”

He eyed Rogue warily as she approached within a step of him, but another close look at the flames in her eyes seemed to reassure him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal case. He snapped it open, his hands trembling with eagerness, revealing a slim disc the size of his palm. He flipped a switch and the disc began to glow, lights rapidly circling along the perimeter as a steady light glowed in the center. The arc reactor.

Emma pulled at his sleeve again, her voice growing shrill with alarm. “Sebastian! Here? Now?!”

This time he backhanded her, sending her sprawling to the ground, his voice a whiplash snarl. “Why would I wait another moment?”

He placed his palm on the center of the arc reactor, and a cold blue light started to spread through his body. He shuddered under the force of it as the light grew brighter and brighter, until he was practically incandescent with energy. Finally he turned it off. The glow that had suffused him slowly absorbed into his body, leaving him pale and shaking. He raised bloodshot eyes to Rogue.

“Come here,” he ground out.

Rogue shoved the gun into her belt and slowly approached. She stood eye-to-eye with Shaw, watching his labored breathing. His hand snaked out and grabbed the wrist of her ungloved hand. “Take it!” he snarled, pressing her palm flat against his face.

Rogue closed her eyes, concentrating on the tingle and then the buzz of her mutation activating. As the painful pull started she focused desperately on controlling the rush of his thoughts into hers, his power into her body, gauging her moment. Finally, as the Shaw inside her head shouted in triumph and the real Shaw was distracted and weakened by the pull of her mutation, she slid the needle into his neck and pressed the plunger.

__________________

Shaw reared back, shoving Marie roughly away. Both of them stumbled, disoriented by the sudden disconnection. Shaw pulled the syringe from his neck, looking at it in disbelief.

“What...what have you done?” he asked.

Marie remained silent, watching him steadily.

“What have you done?!” he screamed.

Emma had pulled herself up from the gravel, and started to back away slowly, her hand pressed to her bloody lip. “She’s betrayed us!” she spat bitterly.

“Impossible!” Sweat broke out on Shaw’s forehead as he looked from Marie to the body of Jean. “She killed Jean Grey...she is the Phoenix...”

Marie followed his eyes to Jean’s body. She gave a low whistle, and the body on the ground started to ripple and shift, Jean’s elegant pantsuit turning to blue scales, the red hair turning a fiery orange as it shortened and clung to her scalp.

“What was it you said to me, Sebastian? ‘Shapeshifters can be hired by the hour, my dear,’?” Marie mocked. “Thanks for the tip. This one cost a fortune, but she’s worth every penny. Quite the actress, isn’t she? Plus, with enough incentive she even allowed me to take a hit of her power first.”

Marie watched Shaw’s stunned expression with satisfaction as she made black veins appear on her own face, turning her eyes to twin flames and then to blue before letting them fade back to their own clear deep brown.

“A trick!” Emma bleated. She looked imploringly at Shaw. “I didn’t know -- I swear I didn’t know...it must be Xavier -- I thought I was stronger, but he’s blocking me...he...” Emma’s eyes suddenly grew distant. She clasped her hands behind her back and started solemnly reciting. “Bye, baby bunting, daddy’s gone a-hunting, gone to get a rabbit skin...”

Mystique had jumped lithely to her feet by now. She winked one yellow eye and blew Shaw a saucy kiss before turning and running to the truck, throwing it into gear and driving hell-for-leather down the gravel path.

Shaw turned back to Marie, his whole body shaking with fury. “You bitch!” His hands began to glow as he reached out for Marie.

Marie concentrated, accessing Shaw’s power. “Don’t do it, Sebastian. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Shaw grabbed for Marie’s bare arm and she gritted her teeth as she used his mutation to absorb the power he was emitting, sending it back outward toward him. They stood locked together, the immense power of the arc reactor cycling through them.

Marie tried to wrench free, but his grip was too tight. She began to struggle in earnest, forcing the words out through the rush of power that threatened to overtake her.

“Sebastian, listen to me! I injected you with something that suppresses your mutation. You have to let me go!”

Shaw grinned evilly, and Marie realized that he was only encouraged by her struggles. She was unsure if he was even listening to her words. She felt a subtle shift in the power roaring through them both, as the energy she was pushing outward began to exceed the energy she was taking in from Shaw.

“You idiot! It’s happening already...when the cure takes effect, you won’t have your powers anymore. You’ll be human. You can’t hurt me, Sebastian, but I’ll kill you -- you have to let go!”

Shaw’s grip tightened further on her arm, painfully grinding the bones together. Suddenly he seemed to falter. He swayed, and then stumbled, but still refused to relinquish his grip. Marie watched helplessly as the malicious look on his face faded to blank shock as they both looked down to where his grip was locked on her. The glow was no longer being expelled from his hands but began slowly traveling up his arms instead, encompassing his torso.

Finally his grip on her arm slackened, and Marie pulled free in horror as Shaw began to scream in anguish. The glow spread slowly through his body as he flailed and shrieked helplessly, his movements turning frenzied and jerky as the glow consumed him. A final choked scream and he was gone, turning to bitter ash that brushed Marie’s face and burned her eyes as the wind blew it towards her.

Marie bit back a sob, wiping the grit from her eyes.

“Marie...” Logan’s beloved voice rumbled close behind her and she wheeled, backing away, barely perceiving the forms of the other X-Men rushing past to grapple with the guard and more of Shaw’s thugs who were emerging from the house.

“Don’t touch me!” she choked out. “I can’t...” She held up her glowing hands helplessly in warning, warding off his touch.

His hazel eyes were warm with compassion, his voice low and soothing under the clamor that surrounded them. “It’s okay, baby. I’m not going to touch you. I’ll make sure no one comes near you. Close your eyes now, and focus. Put him away, like you did before. You can do it, darlin’.”

“I...I killed him...” She still felt numb from the shock of it. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else...” She flinched away as Ororo ran by her, hot on the heels of Whirlwind.

“It’s okay, darlin’. I’ll watch over you, okay? No one will touch you. I promise you.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to close her eyes, turning her attention inward. It was eerie to experience Shaw’s thoughts and feelings again, knowing he was truly dead, but she hadn’t absorbed much and with concentration she was able to bottle him up quickly.

She opened her eyes to Logan’s face, stark with concern. “Better?” he asked. She nodded, and instantly found herself crushed in his arms, her face pressed hard against the warm leather of his jacket, his arms straining her even closer, his breath warm on her neck as he reassured himself with her scent.

She closed her eyes and breathed deep for a moment, allowing Logan’s presence to ease some of the tension that had kept her taut as a bowstring since she had devised the plan. There were still loose ends, but Shaw was gone. The guilt of killing him started to be eclipsed by the relief that he was no longer a threat.

Something boomed in the distance, and Marie pulled back to see a red and gold shape streaking through the sky. A smile quirked the corner of Logan’s mouth. “Stark always did love to blow shit up. There goes the west gate.”

Marie looked around. “Emma?” she asked.

“Chuck has her singing Christmas carols right now. It’s pretty festive, actually.”

She snickered, hiding her head back in his chest.

They both heard a thwucking sound and Logan pushed Marie behind him as Azazel appeared a few yards away, his eerie blue eyes taking in the scene. Logan snapped out the claws. “This one is mine,” he growled, launching himself forward.

_____________________

The claws were a hair’s breadth from Azazel’s throat when he teleported, smoke blinding Logan as he instinctively lowered his shoulder, hitting the ground in a judo roll that brought him back on the balls of his feet in a fighting stance. He roared in frustration, scanning the lawn. The smell of smoke from Iron Man’s attacks on the gates and the clamor of other skirmishes going on around him blurred his senses, covering the sound and smell of the ‘port as Azazel appeared behind him, knife slashing into Logan’s kidneys.

Logan wheeled around but Azazel was already gone. Logan gritted his teeth against the pain of the healing. He closed his eyes and focused on tuning out the other smells and sounds, waiting for his opportunity. He sensed the next ‘port almost the instant it happened, getting Azazel in the shoulder. He saw the man’s eyes widen in surprise as he ‘ported away, leaving only his blood dripping from Logan’s claws.

Logan closed his eyes again. Focus...focus...

He lunged forward, feeling with satisfaction his claws digging into firm flesh and bone as the sound and smoke of the next ‘port puffed. The smoke drifted away and Logan froze in horror. Azazel had ‘ported Marie with him, held in front of him like a human shield, one arm under her neck and another around her waist. Logan’s shocked gaze dropped to where his hand pressed tight against Marie’s chest, blood oozing slowly up between his white knuckles, pooling around the blades.

______________

“No, no, no...” From a numbed distance he heard his own voice rasping the words, helplessly, hopelessly, as Marie’s stunned eyes met his for a moment before her eyelids fluttered shut.

Azazel had misjudged -- Logan’s claws had pierced Marie’s body entirely and twisted deep in Azazel’s belly -- but Logan could find no satisfaction as Azazel shoved himself backwards off the blades with a gurgling groan, collapsing to the ground.

Logan retracted the blades as carefully as he could, catching Marie before she could fall, his mind still screaming denial. “Marie...please...”

He pressed his hand to her face, but it was no use. She was unconscious. “Baby, don’t leave me, please...” He felt the panic bubbling up inside him, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

“Hank!” he roared, scooping Marie up and dodging through the smoke and skirmishes, searching for the blue-furred mutant. He pressed her tightly against him, feeling her breathing grow shallow, her pulse growing thready.

In moments, Hank appeared at his side, kit already in hand. “Lay her down.”

Logan watched helplessly as Hank ripped Marie’s shirt open, pressing a stethoscope to her chest. Hank’s grief-stricken expression made Logan’s heart lurch. “I’m sorry, Logan. I think...it nicked an artery. She is bleeding internally, too quickly. She won’t make it back to the jet.”

Logan grabbed Hank by his collar. “Just get her conscious -- I’ll heal her. I don’t care how you do it, there has to be a way!”

Hank detached Logan’s hand from his collar, holding it in his own furry paw, his eyes sympathetic. “Even if I could bring her to consciousness, Logan...her wounds are too severe. She could drain you completely and still die. It could kill you both.”

Logan felt the desperation overtake him. “I don’t care...Hank, please.” He was begging, he knew, but he didn’t care, gritting the words out through clenched teeth as his breath rattled harsh in his lungs. “I love her, Hank. Please -- I have to try. Please.”

He saw the inner struggle reflected in Hank’s expression, and then finally he nodded. “You’ll only have a few moments, at best. Be ready.”

Logan dropped to his knees beside Marie, holding her face tight between his palms, as Hank pulled a large syringe from his kit. His movements were brisk and efficient as he pulled the cap and pressed the plunger until a little clear liquid leaked out.

Hank nodded to Logan and then pushed the needle hard into Marie’s chest, directly into her heart. He pressed the plunger and the effect was instantaneous. Marie gasped in a gurgling breath, shaking, her wide eyes meeting Logan’s.

“That’s it, darlin’...stay with me...” he breathed, praying that the adrenaline would last long enough. He felt her body shaking under his hands as the tingle turned to a buzz. He forced all his fear and panic away, pushing one thought to the front of his mind. I love you, darlin’. Stay with me. Relief washed over him as the excruciating pull began, seizing his own muscles and dimming his vision until blackness overtook him.
___________

He was burning, burning alive. His blood was molten, the pain unbearable, beyond imagining, beyond comprehension. Dimly, he felt himself flailing, trying to draw breath, but thick viscous fluid flooded his lungs. He opened his eyes and a through the glass of the tank he could see them. Smiling, laughing. Toasting glasses of champagne, while he drowned and suffered and burned...

“Marie...Marie darlin’...shhhh...shhhh...wake up darlin’...”

She frantically gasped air into her lungs, trying to cough out the fluid that wasn’t there. She felt his arms around her, his hand gently rubbing her back. Who is he? Who am I? She knew somehow this was familiar, that she had to wait...Don’t panic, just wait...

She saw in her head a roulette wheel, and her consciousness was the little white ball, spinning and spinning, and then...finally, with a slight clatter, falling into the right slot. Marie. I’m Marie. And he is Logan.

With the realization came the knowledge of what to do. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly in through her nose, and out through her mouth. She focused on the scent of him, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, his voice in her ear. Marie. Logan. Safe.

She opened her eyes, avoiding her own spooked gaze in the bureau mirror and looking instead at him. She felt the fear and helplessness start to ebb as she looked at his concerned face, his warm golden eyes. She leaned her head into his chest, grounding herself in the reality of him, and with a deep rumble he gathered her up against him.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded against his warm chest.

“One of mine?” She hesitated, but she wouldn’t lie to him. Couldn’t even if she wanted to, he already knew the truth, she had seen it in the haunted look in his eyes when she woke. She nodded again, comforted by the scratch of his chest hair against her cheek, the joy of skin-to-skin contact still unexpected and amazing to her.

“Goddammit.” She hated this, the bitter self-recrimination in his voice.

“Sugar...don’t do that.”

He made a gruff inarticulate sound deep in his throat. “You’re hurtin’ so bad, darlin’, and it’s my fault.”

She pushed back, tugging his hair a little to force his gaze to hers. “Your fault that I’m not still under Sebastian’s thumb? That he’s not using me to destroy the world right now? Or your fault that I’m not dead, because you risked your life to save me?”

She kissed him -- a little roughly, still angry at how easily he blamed himself. He growled into her mouth, nipping her back a little before his lips softened on hers. The flash of her anger melted away as his kiss turned tender, his hands on her body infinitely gentle. He held her as if she were precious, breakable.

She sighed, nuzzling into his neck, searching for the words that might convince him this time. “It’s just a nightmare every now and then. What they did to you, and that we both dream about it now, it isn’t your fault. I hate that it happened to you, but you can’t keep blaming yourself.”

She met his eyes again, trying to share her conviction with him. “In any case, it’s worth it. It’s so worth it. I love being here with you. I love having you in my head -- having you with me all the time. I love you, Logan.”

She forgot sometimes how much he needed to hear it -- the depths of insecurity he hid beneath his steady, decisive exterior. How he responded to her love as if it were sunshine in the darkness. Even now, she felt him relaxing under her hands, a happy rumble welling up in his chest.

He eased them both down until she was lying sprawled across his body as he pressed his face into her hair. “Worth it, huh?”

She smiled, and then kissed him soft and deep. “Worth every minute.”
___________

Marie crept along the hallway of the narrow outbuilding. Everything was still, she could have sworn that she was alone, and yet...

She smiled, looking up at the ceiling. “We playin’ hide ‘n seek?”

He was lying flat along the ceiling beam like a panther, his eyes golden, his body coiled to spring. She watched as he relaxed, his voice a discontented grumble. “Dammit, Marie. What the hell are you doin’ here?”

He swung down, hanging for a moment before landing softly right beside her.

“I heard you needed some rescuing,” she teased.

A new variety of growl from him...injured pride? She added it to her mental collection. “From what, boredom? That’s about all I’m in danger of around here.”

She almost giggled at his wounded expression. To make it up to him she put some extra honey in her voice, running her bare hand through his hair and down his exposed throat. “So, the part about being entirely surrounded, bad guys closin’ in from every side...”

He flashed her a wolfish grin. “Just another day as an X-Man, darlin’.” He snagged one finger in her uniform belt and tugged her a little closer, his voice growing low and husky. “Although I do love to see you in the leather...”

She let him pull her into his body, his kiss deep and warm and leisurely as his hands made a thorough inspection of exactly how closely the leather was hugging her every curve.

She smiled against his mouth. “Plenty of time for that when we’re back at the jet, sugar. But for now...Scott didn’t send me in to alleviate your boredom.”

He pulled back, his eyes wary as he caught her meaning. “Nuh uh. Don’t even think it, Marie. I’ll hack my way out of here, thank you very much.”

She made an exasperated noise. “What part of ‘covert operation’ don’t you understand, Logan?” She looked at his mulish expression and sighed. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

Time for a new tactic. She smiled, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. “Lo-gan...” she cooed. She popped the tab at the top of her uniform jacket, exposing the zipper.

She watched as a reluctant interest started to overtake his stubborn expression. She grabbed the zipper and slowly pulled it down an inch or two. “Su-gar...” Seemingly unconsciously, his crossed arms fell to his sides as he leaned in a little closer.

She pulled the zipper down another few inches, the jacket parting to reveal the swell of her breasts, pale skin glistening in the dim light. She watched with amusement as the sweep of his lashes revealed the direction of his gaze, slanting down to her cleavage, a rumble rising up reflexively from his chest.

“C’mon, sugar...All you have to do is step on close to me, and put your arms around me...and when we’re back at the jet I swear, we’ll barricade the door to the cargo bay and scandalize the whole team...”

He watched avidly as she lowered the zipper a little more, adding a little shimmy for good measure, and then stopped teasingly. Another growl -- she categorized this one as sexual frustration combined with reluctant acquiescence -- as he pulled her close, kissing her deeply before yanking the zipper back up.

“None of those bastards deserve an eyeful of my Marie, darlin’. You save that just for me.”

She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in his scent and warmth. “It’s a deal. Oh, and Logan?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

She pulled back a little so she could look at him. His beloved face, his ruffled hair, his warm golden hazel eyes. She let everything she was feeling show in her own eyes -- all the love and affection she had for him, all the joy that he gave her. “I’m so glad I found you.”

She watched a slow smile spread across his face, her love and joy reflected back in the warmth of his expression. He tilted his forehead to touch hers, in a tender gesture she had learned he used when his emotions were too strong to be expressed. “I’m glad I found you too, darlin’.”

A rumbly, happy growl from him as he pulled her tight against him, tensing his muscles in readiness. “Now get us back to the jet, darlin’, so I can show you exactly how glad.”

“Sure thing, sugar.” An odd thwucking sound, a puff of smoke, and they were gone.