Marie packed all her belongings into her green duffle bag. She sighed as she looked around the bedroom that she had shared with other "special" girls at 'Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters'.


The power that had made her special, untouchable by anyone but herself, was gone.


This wasn't her home anymore.



Logan stomped down the hallway toward the girl's dorms. The recent argument with Storm swirled around his mind.

"Rogue's leaving, Logan. She told me yesterday." Storm poured more coffee into her cup and turned to looked out the kitchen window.

He dropped his fork, his breakfast already forgotten.
"Did she say why?" His calm voice hid the rush of emotion that flooded his chest.


"Isn't it obvious? She has a chance at a normal life, away from this place. I encouraged her to go. It's the best thing."


"You what?" he growled.


He rose and tossed his plate in the sink. Storm turned at the noise and met his eyes.


"Where will she go? Who will protect her? She's just a kid ..."


“She's made her decision, Logan. Why do you have a problem with it?”


"This is bullshit, Storm. This is her home.”


"Logan, I don't think..."


"When is she leaving?"


"Today." She turned back to her coffee and looking out the window. "I bought her a train ticket..." Logan didn't hear the rest. He'd already left the kitchen.

Marie heard him coming down the hall. He was angry and not thinking clearly, because The Wolverine was silent and undetectable when he wanted to be. She knew she was the cause of his state of mind. She steeled herself for the shitstorm that was fast approaching.

“Where you headed, Rogue?” Logan leaned against the doorway, like he hadn’t a care in the world. As if his heart wasn’t hammering a painful staccato in his chest.

She was his; it was simple. The Wolverine had claimed her as his own. Would fight to the death to protect her. But Logan was at a loss on how to protect a teenager girl from a broken heart. You can’t extend adamantium claws and solve delicate problems.

Oh, he’d thought about it. Seriously considered hunting down Popsicle Boy and eviscerating him for hurting Marie. The thought had made him smile for a day. One look from her had stilled his fists. As much as pummeling Bobby to a bloody pulp would please him, it wouldn’t help her or heal her heart.

Christ, he hated this touchy-feely shit. Logan preferred problems he could beat into submission. And now, because of puzzles he couldn’t solve, because of riddles he had no answer to, she was going to run again. They had started this weird journey together and now she was leaving. His Marie was leaving. And short of beating her senseless, he had no clue how to stop her.

“Back to Mississippi. After that, I’m not sure.” She fidgeted with her jacket, looking everywhere but at him. She was going, and no long-standing crush on the beautiful man in front of her was going to stop her. “I don’t belong here anymore, Logan.”


He couldn’t stop looking at her hands. They were uncovered, pale and beautiful. Not much had changed after Marie had received the cure. Her appearance was the same. She wore the same clothes, and kept a distance between herself and people. Logan supposed it was more a habit than anything else. Her constant fear of brushing up against someone and killing them by accident was forever ingrained in her mind. The only difference between Rogue's appearance pre-cure and post-cure were her hands. She often clasped them behind her back, or stuffed them in her pockets. But she stopped wearing the gloves that covered her from fingertips to elbow.


They made quite a pair. She with her deadly skin, and him with his regenerative abilities and metal skeleton, and don’t forget the claws. Can’t forget about those. For too long he was alone, fighting the nightmares that haunted his nights. And memories he couldn’t recall in the light of day. Logan hadn’t cared about anyone or anything. Including himself.


Then Marie had come along with those haunted eyes and luminous skin. Someone as lost as he was. He became her savior, and she his redemption. Logan always treated her as the kid she was. He knew how she felt about him. The furtive glances and hopeful looks from her did not go unnoticed. He was happy when she showed interest in a kid her own age.


At least, that’s what he told himself. The baser part of him, the side that was pure animal had other ideas. He kept a tight reign on The Wolverine where Marie was concerned. His instincts had him noticing her curvy body, the way her skin smelled, and the way she looked at him. Those instincts were trouble. They whispered to him that the girl was his; belonged to him, body and soul. The inkling of jealously he felt when he first saw her with Bobby was almost his undoing. But he had kept control. There were always distractions; women he met in bars, hell women he met anywhere. Getting laid was never a problem. And there had been Jean. She was fun to chase, and he had enjoyed the verbal give and take.


Now the distractions were gone. He felt his tightly held control slip. He felt the Wolverine stir. Marie was his. Had always been. And today she would find out.


“I told you not to get the cure for some boy.” Her eyes widened at his statement and a blush rose on her face.


“I didn’t! I did it for me!” She looked him in the eyes now.


“Really? This has nothing to do with Bobby and Kitty groping each other in the hallways?” He took two steps closer to her, nostrils flaring, waiting for the lie.


“No.” Her eyes darted around the room again, not seeing anything.


It was a lie. The same lie she had told him days ago, on her way to the clinic. He felt like a predator on the hunt, sensing the blood of his prey.


“Were you going to say goodbye?” His change in subject caught her attention. He moved further into the room, blocking her path to the door. “You were just going to leave.” A statement of fact, not a question.



He reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her hand to his face. He paused a moment to inhale her scent before pressing his lips to her palm.



Marie gasped and closed her eyes. His hand circling her wrist was like a vice, just this side of painful. Her breath caught in her throat and what felt like an electrical pulse raced across her skin. His mouth was hot as fire and she felt like she was melting. She hated that her traitorous body responded to his touch. She tried to pull her hand free only to feel Logan tighten his grip on her wrist.



“Let me go,” she whispered. “You’re hurting me.”


Instead of freeing her hand he licked gently along her palm, slowly sucking her index finger into his mouth. Grazing it gently with his teeth, he then lathing it with his warm tongue He watched Marie’s reaction with hooded eyes. A low growl rolled up from his chest.



Logan released her hand and leaned forward. “You’re hurting me, Marie.” She felt his warm breath on her face moments before his lips touched hers in a forceful kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, as if to devour her.



How many times had she wished for this very thing? How many times had she dreamed of this moment? It was the culmination of years of longing, an uncounted number of furtive glances, and a young girl’s fantasy come to life.


It was then that she felt the pull of her poisonous skin. She opened her eyes, and watched as Logan’s skin changed. Dark lines coursing beneath the surface as his eyelids fluttered. The surge of his power enveloped her in a haze. It took all her concentration to push him away from her.


Logan slumped to the floor. Marie watched as his skin returned to normal and his breathing resumed its natural pace.



She knew he would recover from touching her. He always did. The latest version of Logan to occupy her mind was talking. But it wasn’t really Logan. It was The Wolverine. He was on the hunt. He would come after what was his.


Marie grabbed her bag and ran out of the room.

Logan woke up in the medi-lab below the school. His whole body ached, and he had no memory of why he was hurting so much.


“Don’t move, Logan. I have you attached to every machine in the lab.” Dr McCoy’s familiar deep voice greeted him.


“What happened?” Logan felt like his mouth was full of cotton. He looked around and tried to focus his eyes.


“You don’t remember?”


“Gee Doc, that’s why I asked what happened! Get these things off of me. I hate needles.” Logan tried to sit up, only to feel violent vertigo, and lay back down again.


“Would you like some water?” Dr. McCoy asked helpfully.


“Yes, and tell me what the fuck happened!” The yelling hurt his head, but not knowing whey he was in such a state was starting to piss him off. The Doc brought him one of those little paper cups filled with water. It soothed his mouth and he was able to sit up before he finished drinking it.


“Easy. Go slow. I had you on some intravenous fluids, you don’t want to pull the I. V.s out.” He made quick work of removing the needles and monitoring equipment from Logan’s chest and arms.


“How long was I out for?” Logan crumpled the cup into a little ball and threw it across the room.


“Just a few hours this time.”


“What do you mean 'this time?'” Logan’s patience was wearing thin.


“It says in your records the last time Rogue touched you, you were unconscious for two days. Of course, she was close to death at the time, and she drew out a significant amount of your energy. I’d venture to guess she only touched you for a few moments this time.” He turned off all the monitors and turned to face Logan.


It all came rushing back to him in an instant. The haze that had surrounded Logan’s mind dissipated and he could remember everything clearly. Standing in Marie’s doorway, trying to talk her out of leaving, wanting to claim her, and of course grabbing her and kissing her.


“Oh God,” he whispered.


“You remember now?” McCoy went to scribble in the medical chart on the counter.


“Where is she? I need to talk to her. Now.” Logan stood up and stalked to the door.



“She left, Logan. Right after it happened. No one has seen her. Ororo is on her way to talk to you.”


“And Rogue’s mutation? The Cure?” he asked as he paused in the hallway.


“A failure; it’s only a matter of time before the news becomes public. I’m sorry, Logan.”


“Me too, Doc.” He stopped outside the elevator and watched as the doors opened to reveal Storm.


“Logan! You’re awake!” She stepped forward and hugged him tight. He let her wrap her arms around him, and lay her head against his chest. She had been worried about him. That much was obvious. “Did Dr McCoy tell you about the Cure?”


“Yeah. Rogue’s mutation is back.” He shook his head and moved away from her. “I have to find her. I’m taking the truck.” He stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. Storm moved to stand beside him.


She began to talk as the elevator lurched and carried them to the upper levels of the school.


“What if she doesn’t want to come back, Logan? You can’t make her.” Storm crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him coolly. “We need you here. She left on her own. There are kids that need your protection now. People that count on you, Logan. You can’t leave.”


“Watch me.” He looked into her eyes so that she’d be sure to understand him. “I am going to find her. She is the reason…” He stopped talking as memories swirled around in his mind. The first time he saw Marie in that shitty bar in Laughlin City. When he stabbed her in the chest in a midst of a nightmare, only to wake up and find that the waking world was worse than the one he dreamed. The night she nearly died in his arms, and nearly killed him as well. Their history was one of violence and tenderness. He longed to protect her and keep her safe from the big bad world, and at the same time he wanted to give her personal lessons on the intricacies of sex in public places. “I’m going.”


“You’ll leave me here alone? What happens when the truth about the Cure becomes public? All hell will break loose.” Storm narrowed her eyes and stood in front of the elevator doors, effectively blocking his path.


“Move out of my way.” Logan cracked his neck and tried to slow his breathing. This wasn’t going well.


“Please Logan, don’t go.” She was begging him now. Her eyes filled up with tears, her mouth quivered.


He didn’t want to do it. But it looked like he would have to. Logan grasped Storm around her upper arms and physically lifted her out of the way.


“I’m sorry. I don’t want to save the world. Stay here and keep the school safe.” They both knew what he didn’t say. Rogue was more important to him than the school, the world, and all the mutants in it.

Funny. It was that bar in Laughlin City two years ago that made her think of it. That huge jar of tips that she had been tempted to steal from. She had been starving, and she wasn’t above taking what she needed to survive. So when she found herself in a small town on the coast in Connecticut, it was the bartending and waitressing jobs that drew her eye in the local want ads.


“You sure you’re eighteen? You look awful young.” The deep voice of the bar manager boomed in the cramped office.


“Actually, I’m 21. Here’s my ID.” She handed over the card, and made ready to pull a second one from her wallet if it proved necessary.


“So it says. OK. You can start on Friday. I’ll put you with Marla. She’s been here the longest. You’re what, a ladies size small?” The large man screwed up his face as he opened his bottom desk drawer and began pulling shirts and aprons out.


“A small is fine.” Marie smiled to herself. It was easier than she thought it would be. Getting the fake ID’s was a learning experience to be sure, but she was thankful for the knowledge that wasn’t hers rolling around in her mind. She figured Magneto was probably the greatest criminal mind of his time. He had survived his youth by willpower and cunning, and some of it he had passed on to her.


“Here are two shirts and an apron. We’ll start you on Monday.” He handed over the dark grey polo shirts and black apron and smiled up at her. “Any questions?” he asked kindly.


“Um, yeah. What if someone bothers me or touches me? I’ve never been a waitress in a bar before.” It was a partial lie. She’s never been a waitress in her life, let alone in a bar.


“Good question,” Mark answered. His name was embroidered on his dark blue polo shirt. She had forgotten it when he’d first introduced himself. “Darwin! Get in here! Come meet our new cocktail waitress, Marie,” he bellowed towards the office door.


The young man who walked into the office had to turn sideways to get through the door. Marie had never seen anyone this big. He was well over six feet tall, and she could only guess at his weight. He wore a black t-shirt that strained across his wide chest and stretched to cover his enormous shoulders and biceps. He was bald, had dark skin the color of mocha and dark almond-shaped eyes.


“This here is Darwin. He’s our bouncer. It’s his job to make sure no one harasses you,” Mark said.


Darwin smiled down at her, literally blocking the overhead light and covering her in shadow. He had a pleasant face and wide smile. He turned and left the office without saying a word.


“He doesn’t talk much, but he’s a hell of a bouncer and barback. Okay. We’ll see you on Monday at five. Welcome aboard, Marie.” He dismissed her from his office just as his phone rang.


Marie gathered her new uniform and left the bar.


She figured the bartender, Marla, was at least half as old as God. The little old woman was covered in wrinkles and skin that looked like brittle paper. The glasses she wore round her neck were as thick as coke bottles, and Marie had to wonder why she didn’t just keep them on her face instead of sliding them off and on a hundred times a night.


Marla was, in Marie’s humble opinion, the nosiest person she had ever met.


“So where you from? Somewhere down south, right? You married? Got any kids? How old are you, honey?” All of this interspersed with instructions on how to cocktail waitress that were barked at her with far too much frequency.


She had never worked so hard in all her life. The physical toll on her body reminded her of the toughest workouts in the Danger Room. Those taught by Logan. At the thought of his name, the Logan in her brain reared up and took notice of the barroom. He smelled the sour whiskey and thick fog of cigarette smoke. He approved. Marie found herself sizing up every man in the room. Trying to see who would give her a good fight. A real challenge.


Dammit! She pushed The Wolverine back in his cage and vowed to not think of him again. She had enough going on around her tonight as it was. It seemed as soon as she cleared one table, another was dirty. She would deliver one round of drinks, only to turn and have to deliver another to the same table moments later. She would say this about the Navy guys she served drinks to: they weren’t lightweights.


The bar also served a limited menu of bar food of the fried variety. The cook, Eddie, turned out to be the nicest person she had met so far.


“Jesus, Marie! Slow down. This ain’t a race,” he chided her as she loaded her tray up with food orders.


“They’re waiting for me,” she cried at him, exasperated.


“Bullshit! They’re a bunch of drunken sailors who order from you to look at your tits and ass. Relax.” Marie took his advice to heart, and found it much easier to handle her orders when she wasn’t worried about the people waiting for them.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And really, everything was going well. She had run from the school. Run with little money and few possessions, but she had made progress with her mutation. She had left without gloves, and before she could think to buy any, a stranger on a bus had brushed up against her. Skin to skin contact. Nothing had happened. Curious, Marie had slowly started testing her poisonous skin on those around her. Only once did she feel the pull of energy that made her unique.


It had happened at a fast food restaurant outside of New York City. She stood patiently in line waiting to place her order when the man in front of her banged on the counter and began screaming at the woman behind the register.


“I said no salt on my fries! No salt! What are you, deaf? How hard is it to remember no salt?” The man banged on the counter again, then reached over and grabbed the woman and began to shake her.


“Please stop! I’m sorry! Let me go!” The woman’s voice was panicked and high.


“Fucking forget it!” He released her and spit on the counter. He ran straight into Marie as he stalked towards the doors. Her bare hand touched his hairy forearm. And her mutation flared to life. She had pulled back from him in time. Just in time. He had looked down at her in astonishment before he turned away.


She still didn’t know if it was fear or anger that triggered her power. Maybe it was both? And what about the kiss with Logan? When she tried to remember her exact emotion, she found she couldn’t. Or maybe wouldn’t. There had been lust. She was a warm blooded female after all. But there was anger too, and fear. As much as she wanted to know the limitations of her power and control, there was no way to test it. She did not need anymore people living in her head. So she had forgone wearing gloves. It had helped her blend in. And she was careful. She avoided touching people, and she was an expert at it. But if someone touched her skin to skin on occasion, it wasn’t too big a deal.


“I need ice, Marie!” Marla had to yell to be heard above the country music the deejay was playing.


She made her way back to the kitchen to fill one of the big grey tubs with ice, like she had seen Darwin do several times already. She had it full and was leaning against the ice machine when she felt a pair of arms around her. She turned suddenly, nearly spilling the ice all over the floor.


It was Darwin. He gripped the tub and hefted its weight easily. She looked up at him and saw him frown and jerk his head to the side.


“What? Marla said she needed ice…” He walked to the counter and sat the ice on the smooth steel surface. He waited patiently for Eddie to turn around notice them.

“Hey Darwin, what’s shaking?” Eddie smiled when he turned from the fryers and deposited fries on a plate. Darwin nodded to her and pointed at the ice sitting in front of him. “Oh. I get it. Marie, it’s not your job to get ice.”


“But I can carry it. Marla said she needed it.” Marie was confused and a slow blush was making its way up her neck.


“That’s not the point, Marie. Darwin’s here to do the heavy lifting. If she needs ice, she needs to ask him. Marla’s messing with you. Trying to see what she can make you do. You don’t fetch anything for her. You start doing that, and you won’t be able to take orders. All the drunks will go to the bar to order everything. You lose tips. Get it?”


“I get it.” Marie felt like a fool. “Sorry, Darwin.” She looked up at him and watched him smile.


“Oh, he’s not mad at you. He just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself lifting heavy things, or to lose any customers.” Eddie turned back to his fryers.



Darwin nodded. He lifted the ice and turned in one swift motion, and Marie followed him into the bar.

The two day drive to Mississippi did little to calm Logan’s nerves. He was heading into the unknown without a plan. What was he going to do, knock on the door and say, “Hi, I’m Logan. I’m here for your daughter.” Then what? Sling Marie over his shoulder and carry her off all caveman-like? Her parents would have a fit. Not that he could blame them; he doubted he would ever be any parent’s dream. He drank, he smoked, and he liked to fight. And none of those things were going to change anytime soon.



He slowed the SUV to a stop in front of the large yellow house at the address he had long ago memorized from Marie’s school records. Being a teacher had its privileges. He also knew her height, weight, and social security number. He could recite the whole file if he felt like it. And that fact made him more than a little uncomfortable. He was obsessed with her. And he was only now willing to admit it to himself.

She wasn’t there. Logan knew as soon as he looked over the neat yard and well kept house. Marie had either lied to him, or changed her plans. Probably both. Too late now. A woman, probably Marie’s mother, was kneeling in the garden, making one last attempt to weed before winter. She looked over at the SUV and smiled. Logan sighed and stepped out of the truck.

“Evening.” She stood and pulled off her gardening gloves. The movement was so familiar to him; he stopped walking, lost in a feeling of de’ja vu. Her hands looked like Marie’s, and her motions as she’d pulled the gloves off were damn near identical to Marie’s. “Can I help you with something?” she asked politely.

“Yeah, I’m one of your daughter’s teachers. She left school recently. I thought she might be headed this way.” He hoped he sounded reasonable, and not at all like some man obsessed with a girl half his age.

“You’re from that school she ran off to,” she stated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “Well, I haven’t heard from her since last Christmas. She called. We didn’t talk for long.” She looked sad at the memory, but she smiled as she wiped her brow and removed her straw hat. “Would you like some lemonade? I have some on the sun porch.”

“Thank you.” He followed her to the porch and sat on the bench opposite her.

“Here you go, Mr.… I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” She handed him a glass of iced lemonade.

“I didn’t. My name’s Logan. Thank you.” He took a sip for politeness and sat it on the bench beside him.

“Is Marie in trouble, Mr. Logan? My husband and I, we were under the impression she had found a place at that school.” Her forehead creased with worry.

“No. But she did leave the school grounds without telling anyone where she was going,” he said.


“Is this about that Cure I keep hearing about on the news? Did she take it?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“I don’t know,” Logan lied. “If you hear from her, can you call me at this number?” He reached for his wallet and pulled out one of the ridiculous business cards the Professor had made them all carry around. Just in case he came across a mutant child in need of saving on his travels. The card listed his cell number as well as the school's.

“Ok, Mr. Logan. And when you find her, can you tell her to call us. If… If she took the Cure, she could come home.” She sipped from her lemonade, and Logan had the urge to throw his own glass against the side of the house. He suddenly understood why Marie had run from this place. He stood and walked to the truck. Not stopping when she called out a goodbye. He held the steering wheel in a punishing grip as he watched the perfect house with the perfect yard disappear in the rearview mirror.

He wanted a fight, he wanted a drink, he wanted a smoke, and he wanted a fuck. Not necessarily in that order.



Logan cracked one eye open and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The night before flashed before his eyes. He winced when he smelled her perfume. She turned towards him in her sleep and draped an arm across him. He remembered the bar, the drinking, the smoking, a bar fight… And the fucking. The leggy blond next to him stirred again and woke up.

“Morning. That was some night.” She smiled shyly from behind a curtain of hair.

She was pretty. Probably nice too. He wanted her out of his bed. Now. He tried to remember who'd paid for the room and decided it didn’t matter. He needed to get on the road. This little distraction beside him had cost him time.

He hated himself a little just then. It was the animal side of his personality that drove him to seek company in bars. As much as he had enjoyed the night before, it wasn’t what he wanted. It would satisfy the immediate hunger, but not sate the need. The want for the girl with the haunted eyes would drive him on. It would probably drive him to madness as well.

Logan rolled to his side and sat up. His clothes were on the floor and he quickly got dressed. He needed a shower, but not here.

“What’s your name? I don’t think you told me last night,” the woman all but purred at him, reaching out to touch his back as he pulled his jeans on.

“Does it matter?” He sounded gruff to his own ears. “I have to go.”

“Can I get your number?” He could hear the hurt in the question.

He looked over at her then. “I’m just passing through.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m looking for someone.” He decided not to say anymore.

He turned towards the door and had his hand on the knob when he heard her say, “She’s lucky, whoever she is.”



Fortified with caffeine his body didn’t need, he was on the road again. He had a thought when he hit the freeway. Marie had been right under his nose. She had limited resources and little money. She may not have even left New York. He headed north. She had learned many lessons being a runaway, the most important being how to hide in plain sight. As soon as he thought of it, he knew it was so. Marie was in New England. His search would end there.

He lit a cigar and smiled for the first time in days

Marie was clearing off a table when she heard someone say, “Check out her rack! Ten bucks says she comes back to my room tonight!”

“You’re on! No way is she going home with you. She’s a prude if I ever saw one.”



Then her night went from bad to worse.



Marie could hear their raucous laughter above the din in the crowded bar. It was unbearably hot, and her shirt had begun to stick to her sweat slicked skin. As the tables around her had become more crowded, she found herself able to meet the customers’ eyes less and less.

Most were young men, her age or a little older. They were enjoying their time away from a grinding work day that started before the sun came up. They were getting drunk and feeling good. Oh yeah, and they were horny. All these things made them forget the manners their mothers had taught them as young boys. They looked around them and they didn’t see women. They saw objects of desire, they saw a body to warm their bed, and they saw their lust reflected back at them.

This of course was the purpose of going to a bar and getting drunk.



The Logan in Marie’s head shared this all with her. She had gleaned not only his powers, but his memories too. She suddenly didn’t feel so well.



The two making the bet looked over at her and motioned for her to come to their table. She felt tears prick her eyes and her throat tighten. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t belong here. This was wrong.



She approached their table and smiled. She was a walking, talking contradiction. She wanted to run, and she wanted to growl low in her throat and attack the two young sailors.



“What can I get you guys?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Your phone number, sweetheart,” the cute blond said with a smirk.



It was then that she thought about all the money in her apron, Darwin’s smile, and Eddie’s easy banter. She was a grown-up and she needed this job. She wanted it. And no little pansy ass Navy boys were going to run her off. The Logan in her head chuckled.



“It’s unlisted. Can I get you boys a drink?” She smiled at them prettily and pushed her chest out.

“Aw, come on, sweet thing. You look like a good time.” The short one leaned over and licked his lips.

“You two look like you couldn’t handle a wet dream between you.” Marie grinned at the short one. Not backing down.

“Bitch.” The other said under his breath.

“Watch your mouth, sugar, or I’ll make you go get your drinks from the Crypt Keeper behind the bar.” She watched amused as Shorty narrowed his eyes and sat back down.

“Two rum and cokes please,” the blond said politely.

“That’s better.” She turned and walked away, and snickered as the blond slipped Shorty a ten dollar bill.



Marie dragged herself into the office, exhausted but happy. Her apron was bulging with tip money, and she couldn’t wait to go home and take a long hot shower. She hoped the smell of the bar would wash out of her hair.



“Good work tonight, Marie.” Mark was at his desk looking over a clipboard. “You want to trade in your ones and fives?” He reached over to the open safe on his left and pulled out a bundle of money.

“Sure, thanks.” She reached for her time card and punched out, then slumped in the chair in front of the desk. Within minutes she had counted out her money. She laid it out in piles on the desk.



“Three hundred and four dollars. Not bad for a night’s work, huh?” He counted out twenties and tens, and handed them over to her. “Count it; make sure it’s all there.”

Marie did as he told her and folded the small bundle before stuffing it in her jeans pocket. She scooped the remaining four ones from his desk and put those in her pocket as well.



She stood to leave when he spoke again.

“Don’t forget to tip Marla.” He was banding the money together and bent down to put it into the safe.

“What?” She had to have heard him wrong.

“It’s a courtesy. You tip Marla for not making you wait in line to order your drinks. And if you tip your bartender, you’re less likely to get watered down drinks.” The safe door shut with a thunk. “She, in turn, should tip Darwin for keeping her bar stocked.”

The word “should” wasn’t lost on Marie. She had little doubt what Marla should do, and what she actually did. “I will. When do I work again?” She asked.

“I’ll post the new schedule tonight. Can you work the same shift tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.” She left the office and went to find Marla.



Three hundred and four dollars! Not counting her hourly wage. Actually two hundred and eighty four, she had handed a twenty over to Marla before she left and walked to the bus stop. If this kept up, she would be able to afford a bed soon and a phone. Not to mention food and toothpaste. She laughed to herself. It was the little things in life.

It felt good to stop being a runaway and start creating a normal life for herself. She had a one room apartment above a laundromat that was cramped, but it was clean. She had a view of the street below, and the shower had hot water. This was all she wanted or needed at the moment. It had cost her all the cash she had left to rent the place. But she had been road weary and only wanted to stop moving for awhile.

She figured that this small coastal town was as good as any other. She had found work easily enough and was slowly working out a plan for her future. The future of an independent woman, who didn’t need anything. Well, except the aforementioned shower, and sleep. Dreamless sleep would be nice too.

He had underestimated her, but he was getting closer.

He had wasted two weeks in New York. If she had wanted to never be found, New York City would have been perfect. Walking those streets, Logan could feel the pulse of youth.


The city was awash in runaways, of every type. Grown men and women would leave happy homes to seek their fortune in The Big Apple. Singers, actors, writers, artists of every type were here. But not Marie, she had gone to ground, and not in this city. No, she was nearby, though.


He sniffed the air and could sense the approaching winter. He could smell the salt of the ocean on the wind. It called to him.


He left New York exactly fourteen days after first crossing the state line. From there, he headed up the coast, following the jagged landscape of the mighty Atlantic Ocean. It was here, along the coast, that he would find her.


Ororo called him every couple days to check his progress. He figured she’d adopted the “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” mentality. She didn’t have much choice. He would not return to the school without Marie.


It was a few days after leaving New York that he got the call.


“Logan.” He hated cell phones. “It’s Storm.” Of course it was. No one else called him. “Have you found her yet?”


“I’m getting closer. Has she contacted anyone at the school?” He was always hopeful. He was always disappointed.


“No, Logan. Have you seen the news?” she asked.


“Not in the last few days. Why?” This wouldn’t be good.


“The story broke. Everyone knows the Cure didn’t work. There have been riots in the bigger cities. Bombings in some of the clinics…And, Logan…” she paused.


“What is it, Storm?”


“Mutants are starting to disappear. It’s the government. No one knows what’s going to happen.” She sounded frightened. “I hope you find her, I really do. But you might not. Be careful.” She hung up.

________________________________________________________________________


Time was running out. He knew she was here, on the coast. She had to be.


It was outside of New London, Connecticut when he got his first real break. The landscape seemed right; it was almost like he had seen it before. This was it. All his instincts were screaming at him that she was here. Right here. He pulled the car over and watched the sunrise on the water. He could see his breath, and he sniffed snow in the air.


“Anything else for you, buddy?” The barkeep was the grizzled old sort who had lived all his life on the water.


“No thanks, just the beer. Turn up the TV, will ya?” Logan sipped at the beer and focused on the small black and white set nestled between liquor bottles on the back wall. It was showing the local news, and the top story was the mutant Cure, or the failure of it.


“Too bad it didn’t work. I feel awful for all those muties who just wanted a shot at a normal life. Shit happens, I guess.” The old man turned back to his other customers and left Logan in quiet contemplation of the news program.


The next segment was about the possible closure of the local submarine base and the impact on local business. The small screen filled with a perky newsgirl interviewing a short, stout man.


“So how would the base closure affect you and your employees?”


“Affect us? We wouldn’t have a job. I run the club on base; if this place closes, we’re all out of a job.”


“Thank you, Mark. Now back to Bob in our studio. How’s the weather look for this weekend?”


Logan had stopped paying attention and focused in on the girl who had walked behind the reporter and her interviewee. She had dark hair with unmistakable light streaks framing her face. She was on screen for mere seconds, but it was her. Marie.


He felt his heart beat accelerate to a painful pace. She was here. In this small town. And from the looks of it, she was working on a military base. Logan swore out loud and pounded a fist on the polished wood in front of him.


“Hey, how do you get to the Navy Base from here?” The old barkeep smiled and nodded towards the front door.


“Get back on the highway, follow the signs. About twenty miles up on your left. Can’t miss it.” He turned back to pouring a beer.


Logan left his money and unfinished drink on the bar. The hunt was on.

The sound of the phone ringing was jarring, to say the least. Marie had sat on her couch to watch some daytime TV. Before she realized it, she was curled up on her side fast asleep, dreaming about Logan. Again.


She shook herself awake and grabbed for the phone before it stopped making its incessant noise.


“Yeah.” She knew she sounded rude, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.


“Marie, can you come in an hour early tonight?” It was Mark. Big surprise there, her first phone call on her new phone and it was work calling her in early. Not that she thought anyone else would call her, but some days she dared to hope.


“Sure, everything ok?” she asked.


“We’ll talk when you get here. See ya soon.” And with that cryptic message, he hung up. The dial tone buzzed in her ear a moment before she placed it back on the cradle. She stood and stretched before heading to the shower.


“She broke her hip?” Marie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.


“Early this morning. She was trying to get one of her cats out of a tree.” Mark’s face looked grim, but Marie wanted to giggle. Just a little. “How do you feel about being a bartender?” he asked pointedly.


“Fine. I’ve never done it before, but I’m willin’ to learn.” She smiled up at him.


“Good. You’re our best waitress. So that’s why I’m promoting you.” He walked into the bar, Marie followed.


“So that means more money, right?” she asked hopefully.


“Yes it does. I think you’ll do well at this. Darwin will help you, and it’s not a payday weekend. Shouldn’t be too busy,” he explained as he walked behind the bar and motioned for her to follow. “This here’s our bartender bible. Everyone’s added to it over the years, every drink known to man is in here.” He handed her the three-ring binder. “But don’t worry. Most of these guys order beer and nothing more complicated than rum and cokes.” He motioned to the well and liquor bottles. “If they ask for something you don’t know how to make, ask them what’s in it.” He sighed and continued, “Now let me explain about free pouring.”


Her instruction lasted an hour, and she hoped fervently that she wouldn’t forget anything. It was all a bit overwhelming.


Darwin arrived and brought ice for the well and checked the kegs. He smiled at her and winked before going off to do his other tasks.


“Alright, time to open the doors. You ready?” Mark asked her.


“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She tried to hide her nervousness.


“You’ll do fine.” He patted her on the back and left. She flipped through the binder and read some of the handwritten drink recipes scrawled across the pages. One page was entitled: Fireball, and listed instructions. She smiled to herself and thought of John. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, but occasionally she would see something (usually fire or a candle) and she would think of him.


The deejay showed up a few minutes later and waved to her from his booth in the corner. He was a nice enough guy, so she could forgave him for the country music he played. The small dance floor was crowded most nights with people line dancing. Marie had to frequently walk through them to get to the kitchen.


She watched as people began to trickle in to the bar, and the music started. She could do this. She had to.


“Look at you behind the bar!” Eddie had to yell to be heard above the music and crowd of people.


“Yeah. This is crazy!” Marie laughed when he waggled his eyebrows at her. They both cringed when the deejay’s voice came over the speakers:


“Your bartender tonight is the Magical Marie! Show her your love!”


Another country song came on, but the crowds cheering could be heard above the music.


“Why does he keep doing that?” she asked Eddie. It was the third time that night.


“Well, he used to work in a strip club…”


“Are you serious?” She couldn’t help laughing.


“You’re doing well! I’ll let you get back to work, Oh Magical One.” He smirked at her and left for the kitchen.


Marie found that bartending, like anything else, had a pattern. She would take drink orders, deliver them, and collect the money. And then she would do it again. Darwin kept her well full of ice, and by the end of the night she felt comfortable pouring liquor to the count of three. The large tip jar that Mark had provided her with was overflowing by the time the deejay announced the last song.


She couldn’t remember that last time she compared sitting down to heaven. She sighed heavily when she sat opposite of Mark and counted out her till and receipts for the night.


“How’d it go, Marie?” She knew he had checked on her several times that night, strolling through the bar to keep his eye on things.


“Fine, thanks.” She smiled up at him. Her tip money had more than tripled since stepping behind the bar.


“Good. Now will you sign this ‘Get Well’ card for Marla?” She laughed out loud when she saw that it had a picture of a cat clinging to a tree branch on it.


“Gimme a pen.”

Marie looked around the crowded barroom. She took note of the small group of men towards the back. They had a table all to themselves, and they were louder than the patrons around them. Their hair was close cropped and they had the tendency to walk with a swagger.


“Looks like a busy night for you, Darwin.” She indicated the table of Marines with a nod of her head. “Let’s hope it stays calm in here tonight.”


Darwin smiled at her and left to walk the floor.


If there was one thing Marie knew better than anyone (except maybe Darwin) it was how to sense trouble. A table of rowdy Marines in a Navy bar could go one of two ways. Nothing could happen. Or there would be a huge bar fight. She didn’t know the how’s and why’s of these things, but she had seen enough of them to know it was going to be a long night. Darwin usually stopped most brawls before they went to blows. She didn’t know if it was his size, or his quiet countenance that did it, but when he walked between potential aggressors, it was like a ceasefire.


She was halfway through her shift, and it was a packed house. The deejay was playing what Marie could only assume was popular country music. The customers were happy, if a bit rowdy, keeping not only her and Darwin busy, but Eddie and the new waitress, Gail, as well. She listened as she was announced as the bartender, she took a moment between pouring beers to smile for those crowded around the big oak bar.


The crowd began to chant “Fire ball! Fire ball!” in a steady rhythm and Marie laughed. The timing was right. It was time for the deejay to take a break, and it was on her to entertain the patrons. She watched as Darwin walked back towards her and reached for the bottle of 151 proof that was kept on a high shelf on the back wall.


“All eyes on the bar! Give her your love! It’s Magical Marie!” boomed over the speakers.


Getting on the military base was easier than Logan anticipated. A quick call to Storm and he had a contact name; with that and a visitor pass, he was on his way.


The bar was easy enough to find. Like with most things, you just had to know what to look for. In this instance, it was neon and loud music. He eased into a parking space and killed the engine.


There were too many unknowns here. What if she wasn’t working tonight? What if he was wrong and she didn’t work here at all? What the hell was he going to say when he saw her?


“You’re mine. We’re leaving.” Had a nice ring to it, but he didn’t think it would work. He scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed. He was stalling. Time to get this over with.


The bar looked about the same as any other bar he had ever been in. The music playing was country, which could be worse. There was a small dance floor crowded with people dancing in sync, and a large polished oak bar along the back wall. He settled at a table near the door and lit a cigar.


“What can I get ya?” a perky girl with a pixie haircut asked.


“What’s on tap?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music and din around them.


“Mostly domestics: Bud, MGD….” He missed the rest of what she said when a table of men near him started shouting as they slammed shot glasses on their table.


“Bud’s fine.” He handed her some bills and continued to watch the crowd.


The table nearest him was by far the rowdiest. He counted five men who were well on their way to being drunk, and spoiling for a fight. The waitress returned quickly with his beer and change, which he handed back to her. She also set an ashtray on his table, and with a smile she moved away to take more drink orders.


It was then that he noticed the bouncer. He was dressed in black jeans and polo shirt like the waitress was, but unlike the petite girl, he was enormous. Logan watched as he moved among the crowd. Calm traveled in this guy’s wake. Whenever he stopped at a table or looked at someone, quiet would prevail. Logan watched in fascination as he approached the rowdy table and stopped. He didn’t say anything; he just met each of the men’s eyes before moving on. The men quieted down and returned to their drinks, their shouting nothing more than a murmur amongst themselves. Logan narrowed his eyes in speculation. He knew mutant power when he saw it.


The bouncer walked past his table and looked him in the eyes. He nodded once before looking away and continuing his circuit around the room. Logan knew then he had been made as a mutant, just as he had recognized the bouncer as one. He should have felt uneasy, but he didn’t. Not yet. He was here for Marie; everything else was secondary.


He sipped his beer and looked around. He hadn’t seen Marie yet, but his gut told him she was here. The country music stopped and was replaced with:


“All eyes on the bar! Give her your love! It’s Magical Marie!”


Logan nearly choked on his drink. The crowd around him started to chant something. All eyes were on the bar. He watched as the bouncer stepped behind the bar and lifted Marie, his Marie, to stand atop the bar. She was a sight to behold, she wore black jeans and a polo shirt like the other workers, but her jeans showed off her exquisite curves. Her distinct white streaks framed her face, while the rest of her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His breath caught in his throat, and he forgot how to breathe, how to think. Only one thought pounded in his head: Marie.


She stood and smiled for the cheering crowd, arms thrown open as she bowed. Standing straight again, she turned sideways and tilted her head back. She held a lit book of matches in one hand. So fast that most people missed it, she lifted the small fire to her lips and breathed out a ball of fire. The orange from the flames lit her face beautifully, and once the fire was gone she was grinning. She turned back to her audience and bowed again before reaching for the bouncer’s hand to help her down.


It was then that Logan learned to breathe again. Her hands were not covered in gloves. She was touching people skin on skin, and no one was getting hurt. Everyone knew the Cure had failed. It was all over the news. But if that was true, how was what he was watching possible? He stubbed out his cigar and walked toward her.


He didn’t get far. The table of troublemakers chose that moment to start a brawl. Their target was a guy dressed all in white. He had an apron around his waist; Logan figured he was the cook, if they had a cook here.


“Nice haircut, fag!” One of the men had him by his shirtfront as the others circled around. Five to one odds hardly seemed fair to Logan. He stalked slowly to their table, waiting for his moment to break up the party. He never got the chance.


“Darwin, they got Eddie!” It was Marie, barreling across the room, shoving people out of her way. The bouncer was on her heels; everyone around them was watching the drama unfold. “Let him go!” Marie yelled as she approached the table.


“Not before we’ve had a talk with him, right asshole?” The one holding the Eddie shook him violently, letting go long enough to swing and land a punch on the cook’s mouth.


“I said stop it!” Marie was standing in the center of the group now, glaring at their leader. She reached for Eddie who was holding his mouth, blood dripping between his fingers.


“We’re not done yet.” One of the men grabbed her upper arm and yanked her against his chest.


*snikt*


Marie knew that sound. Logan was here.


“Let the girl go. NOW!” He knew he had their attention. Nothing like a sharp metal blade to persuade people.


The Marine dropped his hold on Marie, and she reached for Eddie. She didn’t dare look back at what was happening behind her. She hustled Eddie back to the kitchen. He’d need ice for his mouth, and possibly a dentist. She would not think about that sound, or that voice. Not now.


“Hey man, no need to pull a knife. We’re cool.” The one who had grabbed Marie raised his hands in the classic ‘We Give Up’ gesture. Logan’s adrenaline was pumping and he heard the barstool move through the air moments before it crashed across his back. He turned in time to see the bouncer pummel his attacker to the ground before facing the rest of them. He watched in fascination as the bouncer stared down the men. Even five to one, no one dared mess with him.


Logan retracted his claws as they all backed down. Within moments, the room was crawling with military police.

She scooped ice into a clean white towel and hurried back to Eddie. He was sitting on the metal countertop, still holding his hands over his mouth. She winced as she approached him.


“You all right?” she asked. He nodded and put his hands down. Marie felt tears tickle the back of her throat at the sight of his bloodied mouth. Both of his lips had split, and there was a gash above the upper one where his teeth had punctured through the skin on impact.


“You should rinse your mouth out first.” She went to the sink and poured him a glass of water, handing it to him with shaking hands. She watched as he put the glass to his mouth and leaned over the sink. When he was finished she motioned for him to sit down again and gently pressed the icepack to his bruised mouth.


“Do I need to call an ambulance?” It was Mark. He peered into Eddie’s face, trying to assess the damage to his employee. “Where’d he get hit, just in the mouth?” He turned to Marie for confirmation before looking at Eddie again.


“Yeah, it looks painful.” Eddie nodded in agreement to this.


“Move the ice, Eddie, let me see.” Mark swore under his breath when he did as asked. “Regardless if you go to the hospital tonight, the kitchen is closed. Understood? You need a ride?” Eddie shook his head no and looked at his feet. “You ok, Marie? I heard that one of those assholes grabbed you.”


“I’m fine, Mark. Just a little shook up is all.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to shiver. Logan was here. She didn’t know how she felt about that.


“Well, you look like hell. I’m sending you both home. Did either of you see anyone pull a knife?”


Marie closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere but here. If Logan got in trouble, it would be over for her. A job she liked, friends she loved, and her first real home; gone. She shook her head no and waited for more information.


“This guy got in the middle. Never seen him here before. The MP’s searched him; he didn’t have a weapon on him. Several people said they saw him draw a knife.” He began to pace the kitchen. “You know him, Marie?” he asked point blank.


“No, why do you ask?” Her voice was loud to her own ears, and more confident than she felt.


“Because he asked about you. When the MP’s let him go, he came over and asked me if I was the manager. I told him I was. Then he growled at me. Scariest shit I’ve ever heard. He asked me ‘what kind of a place I was running here, with an underage bartender breaking up bar fights.’ I told him he needed to leave for being involved in the fight. He left after that.” Mark shrugged and looked at Eddie. “So, you need a doctor?”


Marie walked over to the ice machine and leaned against it, seeking the comfort in the low hum it constantly emitted. She couldn’t settle her mind on one thought; instead her brain was running a mile a minute while her body was exhausted. She felt Darwin place a hand on her back and turned to face him. He looked down at her, but unlike any time before, he didn’t smile. The eyes looking back at her were contemplative and dark.


And then he spoke.


“He came for you. But you already knew that. You belong to him. There will be no more running after this.” His voice was soft and melodic, not what she expected at all. He lightly squeezed her shoulder and walked away.


It took her less than an hour to count down her till and clock out. She headed for the bus. What were the chances that he hadn’t found her apartment yet? Should she get on a bus with just the clothes on her back and run? Darwin’s words haunted her then:


He came for you. But you already knew that. You belong to him. There will be no more running after this.


It was the first time she had ever heard him speak. She always assumed he was mute, or couldn’t talk at all. Something about what he said, and the way he said it, chilled her to the bone. It took her a second to figure out why.


Because it’s the truth.


Even if she tried to deny it, she knew it would be a lie. He was here. And there would be no more running. And she didn’t want to run anymore. This was her life, her home. She would just tell Logan that, and let the chips fall where they would.


Marie unlocked the door to her apartment and flipped on the light. She heard a low growl seconds before he grabbed her.


She was spun violently and pinned face down across her brand new kitchen table. It was actually quite small, and only seated two people, perfect for her tiny kitchen area. Her feet never left the floor and she felt Logan behind her, his fist tangled in her hair at the nape of her neck.


“Nice place you have here.” His voice was a savage whisper in her ear. The table groaned and shifted under their combined weight. He eased off of her, but his hand never left her hair, his torso pressed to her backside, her legs trapped between his. She watched her breath fog as she exhaled across the polished wood in the dim lamplight and waited. His heartbeat pounded in her ears and she felt an odd sensation, somewhere between excitement and fear.


“You need better locks.” He rocked his hips against her once.


“I doubt anything would have stopped you from breaking in.” She started out in a soft voice but she got louder and more forceful as she continued. “You could have waited outside, greeted me at the door like any normal person.”


“I’m not a normal person and neither are you.” His voice rumbled in his chest and vibrated across her spine. “How long did you think you could hide? And on a fucking military base!”


“You come to rescue me, Logan? ‘Cause I know I didn’t call for your help.” She tried to push up from the table only to find that she was unable to move.


“I thought you trusted me. We need to talk about what happened before you ran.”


If she hadn’t been pinned to her kitchen table, unable to move, she might have thought he sounded reasonable. He knew her better than anybody else; he had to. How else could he constantly be her savior? In the past she had longed for him to stop calling her “kid” and see her for the woman she was becoming. Unrequited love was romantic in trashy paperbacks, but it did nothing to ease the low ache she felt in her belly whenever he looked at her. She was frustrated, as only a hormonal virgin teenager could be. The fear she’d felt earlier was quickly replaced with a fiery anger.


“So this is about your hurt pride?” She knew she sounded sarcastic and biting, but she was past caring. “What do you want?”


“Spread your legs, Marie.”

“Spread your legs, Marie.”

Whatever she had thought to say to him, her mind was a blank now. He had come for her; that much was obvious. But now she considered what he came to do to her. The Wolverine in her head was laughing in his cage. She had knocked him unconscious with one kiss, and he wanted more. He wanted it all. He had come to claim her like the animal she knew he was.

He grunted impatiently and moved his leg between hers. Lifting his knee, he forced her thighs apart before growling in her ear:

“Fight me, girl. I like it.” He ran a hand down her back and grabbed hold of her waistband, pausing a moment before reaching around to unbutton and unzip her jeans. His gloved hand splayed open across her belly before inching lower, stopping at her panties.

“When you kissed me, it changed everything. I’ve always wanted you, from the first time I saw you. But there are rules,” he said. “There are things we want to do, and things we’re supposed to do. You needed that school and the people there. I was just a dirty old man.” His hand skimmed beneath the thin cotton material covering her sex and rubbed lightly.

“I saw your hands bare. You can touch people now. So I wanna know, who you been touching?”

She shuddered and moved against his fingers, trying to increase the pressure. He lightened his touch, making her moan in frustration.

“Who else has touched you here? Like this?” One deft finger pressed lower, seeking her center before stopping. “Answer me!”

She took a deep breath and stilled her shuddering body.

“No one.”

He leaned forward and buried his face in her hair, drowning in her scent before plunging his finger fully into her. Her breath came out in a hiss and it pleased him to know that he would be her first. His hand moved against her in a slow rhythm; he could feel her heat and wetness through the leather covering his fingers. She rocked back, rubbing against his already straining erection.

“Do you like this?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yesss.” Her answer was a half moan and he watched as her hands balled into fists. He could smell arousal coming off her in waves. It made his blood boil and he felt his tightly held control slip. He released her hair, grasped the back of her pants, and yanked. The denim held and her jeans fell to her ankles. Her thin cotton panties tore with an audible rip before being discarded to the floor.

Logan moved over her again, this time parting her legs further and pulling her back against him. Her liquid heat quickly soaked through the front of his pants as he continued to stroke her with his finger. When her breathing began to speed up, he stopped moving his hand.

“Not yet.” It was more a growl than actual words.

Slowly, he resumed the slow stroking between her legs, stopping whenever he sensed her approaching orgasm, and starting again. Within minutes she was keening, tears running down her face, begging for release.

“Please, Logan!” Her voice was a low moan. She twisted to look at him, pleading with her eyes.

“No.” He was grinding against her now, moving with her as she rocked against his hand. “Lie still or I’ll stop.”

She lay flat on her stomach again and he resumed his slow torturous movements.

“Tell me why it is you can still touch other people.” He pushed her shirt up and admired the smooth skin of her back. He ran his leather-clad fingers up the crease of her behind, following along her spine, stopping when he reached her bra strap.

“I…I…Don’t know,” she stammered.

“Not being able to touch you makes me want you more, Marie.” With expert fingers he flicked the clasp of her bra open. He ran his hand down her side, teasing the swell of her breast pressed against the table. “Lift up, let me touch you here.”

He smiled as she obeyed and she pushed up on her hands, giving him access to her breast. He tugged lightly on her nipple and pressed harder against her with his other hand, continuing his slow assault, the rocking of his hips in time to her movements.

Again when he sensed her approaching orgasm--her increased breathing, her racing heart, and her scent--he stopped moving. Her skin flushed before his eyes, and he licked his lips and could taste her there; she was in the air all around him, just as she was splayed out before him.

“Logan!” she was crying again, frustration evident in her voice.

He began again. Slow gentle movements with his fingers, two inside her now, giving her more friction, more to push against. His erection was almost painful, pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He released her breast and reached into his back pocket. It took him a moment to fish the condom packet out and raise it to his mouth. He quickly tore it open with his teeth and stepped back from her. She was close again. And it was time; he wanted to be buried deep inside her. He continued to caress her with his fingers, not stopping as he unzipped his fly and freed his erection, sliding the condom in place.

“Do you remember the first time I was inside you?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes.” She moved against his hand, seeking her release.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes…and it felt good, too.” She was gasping, on the edge.

He removed his hand as she began to cry out, and thrust himself inside her just as she came. He wrapped his arms around her as her knees gave out. She was wonderfully tight and he held still as her walls contracted all around, massaging him and exciting him further.

“This will hurt, too,” he grumbled, before pushing her across the table again and stroking into her hard.

“Stop! It hurts…I can’t.” Her entire body stiffened.

He stopped moving and leaned forward, licking her ear quickly as he whispered, “No.”

He moved slowly at first, making his thrusts shallow, giving her time to adjust to his size and a new rhythm. She began to move back against him, bracing her hands on the table.

“How does it feel?” his voice rasped. “When you’re alone and you’d touch yourself, did you want it to be me?”

He could smell her blood, and it excited him even more, urging him to push deep and slow. She was moving against him perfectly now, as sweat coated their bodies.

“Do you still want me to stop, Marie?”

“No…”

“Tell me how it feels.” He wouldn’t last much longer, it was too much; the smell of her, the taste of her skin, finally being inside her. “Please tell me.”

“It aches,” she panted. “It was always you I wanted.”

Her words pushed him too far. His strokes became erratic as he started to come. He gripped the edge of the table when he lost control, and felt the rip of metal blades through his skin. The combination of pleasure and pain made him throw his head back and roar before he slumped forward and blacked out.

Marie sipped her coffee and looked over at the man sprawled on her kitchen floor. Not just any man, no. He was the man of her dreams. She giggled when he snored and shifted in his sleep.


At first she had been worried that he had touched her skin and her mutation had knocked him unconscious. But she hadn’t felt the sucking pull of her power. Apparently Logan passed out after ravishing young girls across tables. Who knew?


Not being trapped by his body any longer, she had pulled up her jeans and headed for her bathroom, half expecting Logan to appear at any moment and…Well, she didn’t really know what to expect of him now. She undressed and quickly stepped into the shower, enjoying the hot spray as it pummeled her skin, relaxing her into a state of bliss. She had several tender places on her hips and back, which would be bruises by morning. Mostly she was sore between her legs, a pleasant tingle that constantly reminded her that she had had sex. But not just sex; sex with Logan. He had touched her where no one else had; not only that, he had been careful. She had a hard time believing he had wanted her all this time, but he had never lied to her before. Last night was proof enough of his claim.


Once showered, she wrapped herself in a towel and made her way to her bureau for something to sleep in. Logan was still on the floor where she’d left him, his breathing even and deep. Having him here made her small apartment seem smaller. He took up a good deal of the floor space. It was essentially a one-room place, an area for the kitchen, a living/sleeping area, and the bathroom. Her secondhand couch folded out into a bed, though tonight, she would sleep on it as is. She didn’t want to wake her slumbering guest. Not yet, anyway.


Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and panties she tiptoed around him, taking a moment to admire his profile and state of undress. So many secrets revealed this night. Logan went commando? She smiled as she covered him with a blanket and then settled herself on the couch. Sleep claimed her as soon as she laid her head down.


Morning came with bright sunshine and the need for caffeine. She padded to the coffee maker and got it brewing. Finally sitting with a mug of steaming Moroccan blend, she waited for Logan to wake up.


The first thing he was aware of was the smell of coffee. Not the shitty coffee you grabbed at convenience stores where you paid for your gas and asked for directions. This was real coffee; it smelled rich and wonderful. He sat up slowly, blinking as sunlight burned his eyes.


“Good morning.”


She was sitting at the table watching him, an unreadable expression on her face. He pushed the blanket off and rubbed his hands across his face. The scent of leather and sex stopped him dead. He studied the gloves a moment; they were tattered at the knuckles exposing the skin on the back of his hand. Good thing he had invested in several pairs. He pulled them off with his teeth and stuffed them in his back pocket, realizing too late that his pants were undone, no doubt giving Marie an education in male anatomy and its aroused state in the morning. He looked over to find her staring in fascination, reminding him of her limited experience with the opposite sex.


“Like what you see?” He quirked an eyebrow and smiled at her, enjoying the rosy blush of her face before she looked away. He got to his feet and zipped his pants, never taking his eyes off of her. “Can I have some coffee?”


“I guess you can have a cup, before I throw you out.” She looked up at him, her face serious.


“Thanks.” He rummaged through her cupboards until he found her collection of mugs, and poured himself a cup. He sat across from her in the only other chair and sipped the scalding liquid carefully, noticing the bright Disney characters looking up at him from his coffee mug. “Cute.”


“Can I ask you something?” she said, looking into her coffee as if the answer she sought could be found in its depths.


“Before you throw me out? Sure, make it quick. This is good coffee; I’ll be finished in a second.” She could humor herself all she wanted; he wasn’t going anywhere.


“Is it always like that?” There was wonder in her voice, and it made him happy.


“What do you mean? Do I always throw girls across tables and have my way with them?” He smirked at her and continued, “The answer to that would be no. If you’re asking if sex with me is always that…” He searched for the appropriate word, “rough. No. No it isn’t. Next time it won’t hurt at all.” He paused for a second before continuing, “Unless you want it to.”


Marie continued to look into her coffee and felt the blood rush to her face. Damn him, he had made her blush twice in five minutes.


“And the passing out? Does that usually happen?” she asked, brows furrowed.


“Only when I’m around you,” he stated and finished his coffee, setting his cup on the table in front of him.


“But my mutation didn’t cause that…” She narrowed her eyes at him.


“That’s never happened before either, or the claws. I’ll have to be more careful.” He looked at her considering. “Come here, Marie.”


She got up and walked over to where he sat, waiting. He reached up and pulled her on top of him, satisfied when she was straddling his legs, her face inches from his. He stroked her sides through the thin cotton of her t-shirt, soothing her. She laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. Her mouth nuzzled his neck above the collar of his shirt. It was not helping his aroused state.


“I can touch you now, Logan.” She placed soft, closed mouth kisses along his jaw and stopped, tilting her head and meeting his eyes before touching her full lips to his.


Her lips were softer than he remembered, and when she opened her mouth and touched his lower lip with her tongue, he growled. He eagerly opened his mouth and gave her access, savoring the sweet taste of her tongue rubbing against his before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest.


He had been a fool last night. He thought he could lay claim to her, that she belonged to him. The opposite was true. Logan was hers; the slip of a girl straddling his lap and kissing him had beaten the Wolverine at his own game. He would do anything for her, and he was only just now realizing it. The smallest touch from her drove him mad with want. A simple kiss from her was more erotic than anything he had ever felt before because it was truly her first, and she was kissing him, not some boy at school. He had waited so long for her, dreamed about her. His fantasies could never compare to the warm, beautiful creature he held in his arms. Even her scent was intoxicating to him. She smelled like clean skin and shampoo. But underneath that, she smelled like Marie, a scent that was all her own, and that he would recognize anywhere. She was home. The only home he could remember. She was the one person he would always come back for. And he swore then he would never leave.


Marie bit lightly on his lower lip and rocked her hips slightly, taking a moment to catch her breath, and stop her head from spinning. He tasted slightly bitter, like coffee, and she couldn’t get enough. His whiskers scratched her face and she thrust her hands into his hair. She wanted to touch him more, touch him all over. Now that she could she didn’t think she could stop. His skin was so warm, almost hot to the touch. She had gotten used to quick cold kisses that never satisfied and touches through layers of clothing. The feel of Logan’s skin was a marvel to her, he felt almost electric, alive with an animal pulse that drew her in. She felt heat race through her body, leaving her shaky and gasping with desire.


“Keep that up, and there won’t be a flat surface we haven’t tried out,” Logan grumbled, leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes.


Marie’s clock showed nine a.m. and the radio alarm came on, blaring obnoxious boy band music, startling them both.


“I have to get ready for work.” She touched his face lightly and stood up, putting some distance between them.


“We need to talk.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, causing it to pop and creak under his weight.


“About what?”


“Going home.”


She narrowed her eyes at him and walked to the table. Her mouth twisted as she gathered their mugs and rinsed them in the sink. “This is my home. I’m not leaving.” She took a deep breath before she spoke again. “I’m happy here, Logan. I like my job. I have friends.”


“You have friends at the school. Have you even read a newspaper since you left? Watched the news?”


“That has nothing to do with me.” She walked past him, heading for the bathroom, when he reached for her and grabbed her arm. “Don’t touch me while I’m angry. I don’t want to hurt you.”


“What is going on out there has everything to do with you. The Cure may have helped you, but it failed for everyone else. It’s not safe here.”


She tried to pull free of his grip. “I can take care of myself.”


“You’re doing a piss poor job so far!”


“What are you talking about?” she started shouting.


“You work on a military base, Marie! What the fuck are you thinking? You’re a mutant!” He stood up, knocking the chair to the floor. “Have you forgotten everything?”


“I don’t want to remember. Everything hurts! People died, Logan, while I was waiting in line for a Cure! And it didn’t matter; nothing mattered! It didn’t work. I won’t go back.”


“I can keep you safe. I will take care of you, but not here. I damn near got arrested at that ‘job’ of yours. You work for the government now. Do you realize that?” He tried to keep his voice low; he needed to diffuse this situation. Shouting at her would not change her mind.


“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked, incredulous. “I pour drinks in a bar. They don’t know who I am. I work there because there was a job opening. I have to eat. Some of us can’t make a living beating people up.”


“I’m not leaving without you.” He bent over, looking her right in the eyes.


“Let go of me!” She felt her power flair to life as Logan moved toward her, making her back up. She watched in horror as the veins in his skin stood out pulsing and black. He let go of her as he stumbled to his knees. “I warned you.” She felt tears spill down her face as his thoughts and emotions flooded her mind.

She saw Dr Jean laid out in front of her, reaching for her. No; not her. Logan. These were his memories. Jean wanted him and Marie felt his lust for her. Then something changed. Jean was gone. The beautiful woman in front of him became something else, something deadly. He was slammed into the wall, helpless.
Then Marie saw the battle. The fight she had missed because she was in a clinic, wanting something else, wanting to be someone else. No one had talked her about what had happened in Alcatraz, but she could see it in their eyes. Their silence around her spoke volumes, and Logan looked broken. And now she knew why.

Jean’s pleading eyes, begging for death. The feel of metal through the skin in his knuckles. He had killed her. He had loved her enough to do as she asked. And it had damn near destroyed him.
Marie gasped when the memories stopped. Logan was on his knees in front of her, watching her.


“Dr Jean,” she whispered. He winced and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I didn’t know.” She leaned against the wall and tried to clear her mind. She had known that Logan had a ‘thing’ for Jean. The whole school did. After she had died saving them all in Alkali Lake, Marie had felt bad about being jealous of her. She had always been kind to Marie, and everyone knew that Jean and Scott were getting married. Except they never did, and now Scott was dead too. Marie’s mind swam in confusion. She needed to separate the memories; think about all that she had seen. She ran for the safety of the bathroom and slammed the door.


When she emerged an hour later, Logan was gone.