Rogue was brushing her teeth when she suddenly doubled over in pain. She sat down on the side of the bathtub and thought furiously about what to do, as the cramps didn't dissipate. They got so bad she almost passed out. The nausea wasn't helping, either. "Please, God," she whispered, "make it stop."

Seeing the blood on her underwear scared her more than anything, and she dragged herself to the phone in the bedroom.

Pressing number one on her speed-dial, she prayed that it would be Jean who answered the phone.

"Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." It was Scott. Almost as good.

"Scott," she croaked. "I need help."

"Rogue! Rogue, where are you?"

"I'm in New Orleans. Please. Send Jean. Now."

"Rogue, what's wrong?"

"I think I'm having a miscarriage," she whispered.

"God damn," she heard Scott say and then he was yelling and she passed out.

---

~Professor!~

~I'm here, Scott. What is it?~

~Rogue. She's in trouble. She's in New Orleans. She needs medical attention immediately. Jean, get Hank and meet me at the Blackbird in five minutes.~

~Scott, what's--~

~It's Rogue.~

He checked the caller ID and thanked God as he dialed 911. "Yeah, I've got an emergency. I don't have the address but I have the phone number. Five oh four -- yes, I know that's not New York. Please. She's having a miscarriage... Yes, four five four -- no, I'm not the father. Six seven oh three. Dammit, just get her help. And tell them not to touch her... no, her skin. Tell them not to touch her skin, Goddammit. They need to double-glove. I'll be there as soon as I can. Her name is Marie Summers."

---

Logan had just finished working out in the Danger Room when he saw Scott, Jean and Hank come barreling down to the hangar. Brow furrowed -- he hadn't gotten a call -- he said, "What's up? World in peril again?"

Since Rogue had left, the only time he spent with the others was on missions. He'd accepted Chuck's assurances that she was all right and cursed himself daily for driving her away. If he'd been stronger, more careful; if he'd been around more; if he hadn't been so sure of himself... So many ifs he replayed over and over in his mind, the way he ran fight scenarios over and over with his body.

"Not this time," Scott said, and his voice was both subdued and sad as he entered the cockpit.

He could smell the fear and nervousness emanating from all three, and he knew it wasn't a normal mission.

"Jeannie, what is it? What's wrong?"

She glanced at him briefly, unable to meet his eyes. "Medical emergency. Nothing you can help with."

He grabbed her arm. "It's Marie, isn't it?"

"Jean!" Scott barked. "Let's go."

She tried to pull out of Logan's grip. "Logan, it really is an emergency. Let me go."

"I'm coming with you."

"Perhaps it's best if you stay here," Hank said, and again, the gentle sadness in his tone set warnings off in Logan's head and made his stomach knot in fear.

~It was his child, too,~ the Professor said to Hank, Jean and Scott. ~Let him go.~

"I can heal her if she's -- oh, God -- she's not dead? Tell me she's not dead," he pleaded. He leapt up the stairs into the jet and took hold of Scott, who was readying for takeoff.

"She's not dead, Logan," Jean said. "In fact, she'll likely be just fine."

"Then, what's wrong?"

Jean took in his wild eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, and once again wondered what had gone wrong between him and the woman he loved more than life itself.

"She's -- " the redhead paused, trying for a professional tone. She glanced at Scott for reassurance.

"There's no easy way to say this, Logan," Hank began. "Marie," they all started at his use of Logan's pet name for her, "Marie has apparently suffered a miscarriage."

Logan looked stunned. "She what?"

~You can ask questions on the way, Logan. But it is vitally important that Jean get to her quickly. Careless contact with her skin during treatment would just add more trauma to an already tragic situation. I've notified the doctor who is caring for her that you are on the way,~ Xavier said gently, but there was authority in his tone as well.

Logan sat down suddenly, not even checking to see if there was a seat behind him. "She's, she's pregnant?"

"She was," Jean confirmed softly, laying a hand on his arm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He sat stone still, alternately muttering prayers and imprecations during the hour-long flight.

They easily got clearance to land, and Scott drove like a madman -- like Logan would have, if they'd let him -- to the hospital.

When they arrived, he was out of the car before it even stopped, pushing his way into the emergency room. Jean and Scott ran to keep up with him. Hank remained in the car, not wanting to draw more attention to the already unusual situation.

"Where is she?" he demanded of the nurse at the desk. "Where's Marie?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, sir," the woman said. "Half the women in this place are named Marie or Maria."

Scott caught up with him and said, "Marie Summers. She's my sister. I'm the one who called it in."

The nurse gave them a sympathetic look. "She's in Exam Room Three. Dr. Benoit is with her now.

Jean forced her way in between the two men. "I'm Marie's doctor," she said, producing an ID card from NYU Medical Center, where she was often called to consult on cases involving mutants.

"Exam Three is to your left, Dr. Grey," the nurse said immediately. "Dr. Benoit is expecting you."

Normally, they wouldn't let a strange doctor in without authorization from the patient, the attending physician, and myriad other authorities. But the EMTs had informed the nurse that Ms. Summers was a mutant, possibly dangerous, and all caution should be taken with her care and treatment, including double-gloving and avoiding skin-to-skin contact.

Logan followed Jean back to the exam room, growling at anyone who tried to stop him.

"Jean, it's good to see you again," said a dark-haired man as they entered the examination room. "Though not, of course, under these circumstances."

"Philippe," she responded, inclining her head as she took off her jacket and snapped on rubber gloves.

Logan tuned out the medical gibberish and stood at the bedside, honing all his senses on Marie. She was pale, but that was to be expected. He instinctively reached out a hand, desperate to touch her -- make sure she was really there, really alive -- and Jean snapped, "Logan!"

Simultaneously, Benoit said, "Don't touch her!"

Logan whirled, claws unsheathed. "Don't you fucking tell me not to touch her," he growled. "I can make it better. It's all my fault--"

Understanding dawned in the doctor's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. -- Logan, is it? Marie lost a lot of blood, but she's going to be just fine. Physically, that is. We can provide some counseling for her as well, if she wishes." He looked at Jean again, dropping his voice almost to a whisper. "She was quite a bit underweight for someone as far along as she was."

Logan went back to staring at Rogue, but his keen ears caught every word of the doctors' conversation. "It's a miracle she ever got pregnant at all, with what Professor Xavier told me. This guy's either very brave or very lucky," he continued, nodding in Logan's direction.

"Was it her mutation, do you think?" Jean asked softly, aware that Logan was listening.

He shook his head. "No way to know for sure. Generally speaking, the fetus should have been protected by the amniotic fluid. However, I don't believe she was under a doctor's care. She was at least nineteen weeks along, possibly as many as twenty-four. She should be able to tell us more when she wakes up."

"Twenty weeks," Logan whispered. "Five months. That was the first time, the only time--" his voice was hoarse and his eyes burned with the unfamiliar sensation of tears.

"We'll be moving her to a room shortly," Benoit said, his voice full of sympathy.

"Jean--" Logan's voice was hoarse, pleading.

"I'd prefer to take her back to New York, if her condition allows it," Jean said.

"It's highly unusual," Benoit began, his eyes falling on Logan's clenched fists. "But everything about this case is highly unusual." He turned to go. "I'll leave you to examine her, if you'd like, and go start on the paperwork."

Jean laid a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Philippe."

---

They got the address from the EMTs and while Jean was examining Rogue, the three men went to her apartment and gathered her things. Logan hadn't wanted to, but the combined force of the other three, and Marie's deathly pale, sleeping face drove him from the room. Even asleep, she had purple smudges under her eyes.

The first thing Logan noticed on entering her apartment was the smell of her blood. It made the animal in him howl, made him want to kill whoever had hurt her. Except *he* was the perpetrator. He'd forced her into something she wasn't ready for -- played on her adolescent crush and her concern for his well-being to get what he wanted. He'd promised to protect her, but never thought he was what she'd need protection from.

Hank gathered some clothing into a duffel bag he found in the closet and Scott picked up the CDs and small bits of jewelry lying on the dresser.

Logan's keen eyesight allowed him to see that his dog tags were not among the items Scott slipped into the duffel bag. Did she still wear them? Did he dare to have hope? No. He'd let her go, abided by her wishes when she'd left. He couldn't have hope. It was one of the things he'd given up on, never should have let back into his life, the way he never should have let Marie into his trailer, into his life.

A baby. He was still trying to wrap his mind around it when they got back to the hospital. Jean waited there with Rogue, bundled up and half-asleep from all the drugs they'd pumped into her.

"Logan?" she whispered.

"Yeah, Marie. I'm here." He lifted her gently out of the wheelchair and cradled her against his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's my fault--"

"Shh. Don't talk, Marie. We're taking you home."

She struggled within his arms. "No, you don't understand. It's all my fault. If I --"

He tightened his grip on her. "It's not your fault, Marie."

She closed her eyes and subsided.

They reached the car and he handed her to Hank. Logan got in the back seat while Hank arranged her on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her gently. Jean and Scott sat in the front seat and Hank stared out the window next to Logan, whose focus was all on the sleeping girl in his arms.

---

He didn't argue when they told him they weren't going to put her in his room. He didn't deserve her, couldn't be sure he'd be able to control himself and not touch her, heal her, once they were alone together.

He went back to his room and lay on the bed. He was scared, scared she'd blame him. It was all his fault.

He closed his eyes and remembered the day it happened...

---

Five months earlier...

They'd been surprised, ambushed by members of the Brotherhood. He'd successfully fought Sabretooth to a standstill when Mystique had shot him and another mutant, Eraser, one with powers similar to Marie's, touched him. He felt his healing factor reverse -- every wound he had opened and began bleeding as Mystique shot him three more times before Cyclops managed to take her out and get him into the jet.

Away from Eraser, his healing factor slowly kicked in after a time, but he'd sustained a lot of damage, and was in a great deal of pain.

"What the hell was that?" he managed to ask.

"Eraser is able to reverse a mutant's powers against them. She touches you and your healing begins to work backwards, or my telekinesis would knock me out," Jean said softly as she worked to pull the bullets out of him.

"Hurts like hell on fire," he muttered before passing out. He woke up once or twice, and the anesthesia made everything seem far, far away. He could hear them murmuring and smell the salt of Marie's tears as she wept for him. He tried to tell her he was fine, but couldn't make his mouth work. That worried him. Jean and Hank shouldn't have looked so serious. He could heal. He would heal.

But the operation was taking an awfully long time. His bowel had been perforated, he was bleeding internally, and his healing factor was almost overloaded trying to fix all the damage caused when it shorted out on him during the fight.

Rogue was down in the med lab when they brought him in. The professor had warned her that he was in pretty bad shape. She waited throughout the hours-long surgery and was still there when the doctors rolled Logan back into the main room. Jean tried to get her to leave, but she refused to move.

"I'll sit with him," she insisted, and added, "I'll call you if anything changes, Jean. Really. I just -- I can't leave him alone down here." The strain showed on her face -- paler than usual -- and in her haunted eyes. "You need to rest, too, Jean. Go have a shower and take care of Scott."

Jean looked at the young woman she'd come to think of as a sister over the years and said, "Okay, Rogue. But seriously, you call me if anything -- and I mean anything -- changes."

She sat with him through the night, dozing on and off, occasionally taking his hand and murmuring into his ear. "I can't lose you, Logan. You can't die. Who's gonna help me keep Scott in line? Who's gonna go to Rangers games with me?" Over and over she told him she loved him, words she'd been too afraid to say while he was awake. "I love you, Logan. Only you. Please don't leave me." She mumbled endearments to him in Polish and German and Japanese -- the languages spoken by others in her head. "Shin'ai na. Beloved. That's what you are to me."

They'd become close friends in the years since he'd returned to the mansion from Canada, finally giving up on finding his past. Her crush had deepened into a love she was sure he didn't -- couldn't -- return, so she hid it by dating other men -- first Bobby, then Remy. None of her relationships lasted. How could they, when she was in love with another man?

But with the proof of his vulnerability staring her in the face, she couldn't hide anymore. Finally, at around six a.m. the next morning, his eyelids fluttered open. He looked down to see her head on his chest; the sheet between them was so thin he could almost believe she was touching him. She was asleep.

"Hey, kid," he whispered, his voice rusty from sleep and pain. He stroked her hair gently and reveled in her scent. He wondered if he'd imagined her sweet voice telling him she loved him. It wouldn't be different from most of his fantasies, and he had a hard time believing it was true. It was the only thing he wanted to remember from his ordeal.

He'd dreamt of being buried alive after the operation, and seeing her face streaked with tears as they lowered him into the ground. He tried to claw his way out, but he couldn't. He didn't like to be reminded that he could, in fact, be killed. He certainly didn't want to think about how close a call last night had been. Especially not after learning that Marie might possibly return his feelings.

She stirred and stretched. "Hey, Logan." ~Jean, he's awake,~ she thought, hoping the woman could hear her.

~I'll be down in a minute,~ came the response.

"Jean's coming down to check you out," she whispered, eyes filled with tears. He stroked her hair again and took her gloved hand in his. They sat in silence until the doctor arrived.

She checked him out and, since he was insistent, allowed him to go back to his room.

"I'll keep an eye on him for you," Rogue assured her. "I won't let him do anything stupid."

"Marie," he began.

"Don't even try, sugar. I know you. You're gonna be tryin' to get down to the gym this afternoon, and it's not gonna happen."

"But I feel fine."

"Jean pulled four bullets out of your belly, Logan. I don't care what you say," Rogue responded, leading him up to his room, "you ain't gettin' out of bed until I say so."

He leaned down and spoke directly into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "If you keep me company, that'd be fun."

She smacked him lightly on the arm as they arrived at his door. "Behave, Logan."

"That's no fun."

She pulled back the covers of the bed and he climbed in. He scooted over and patted the mattress. "Come on, darlin'. You didn't get much sleep either, I bet."

She sighed. It was incredibly tempting. At the advanced age of twenty-two, he was still the only man she'd ever shared a bed with, even just for sleeping. He'd spent many a night in her room, rocking her back to sleep after his nightmares plagued them both, but that was the extent of her experience. "Please?" He gave her his version of the sad puppy eyes.

She hated when he did that. She crawled in and he wrapped an arm around her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Sleep, sugar."

"I'm all right, Marie," he said, exasperated.

She sat up suddenly and turned to look down at him. "You are not all right, Logan," she hissed furiously. "You could have died last night. Do you understand me? Died. As in, not of the living anymore." The tears she'd kept bottled up during the long hours of the night came streaming down her cheeks. She brushed at them angrily and continued speaking. "Do you know what that would do to me, Logan? I couldn't live anymore, either. I can't live without you, so you better not do stupid shit like that again."

"Marie --"

"Don't 'Marie' me," she snapped. "You don't know what I went through last night when they brought you in. You're not invincible, Logan. You're not fucking Superman, okay? You can be killed."

He put an arm around her, guilty that he'd made her feel that way, yet awed that someone -- Marie -- felt that way about him. "Marie, I --" he was at a loss for words. He thought back to his dreams and said, "That was you last night, talking to me?"

She blushed through her tears, thinking of some of the things she'd said. "I -- I figured if you were in a coma or something and you could hear me, it might help you make it back."

"Shin'ai na," he murmured, pulling her down to him and cradling her gently against his chest. He reached over to his night table and pulled out a pair of thin leather gloves he wore whenever they were together. Then he ran a finger over her lips. "Marie, you're so beautiful. Don't cry, baby. Don't cry for me."

"I'm sorry, Logan. I know it's weak but--"

"No, no, baby, it's not weak. I'm not worth making yourself sick over." He stroked her hair with one hand and slid his other down her body, where it came to rest on the curve of her waist. It felt right, natural. He rubbed softly, kneading her hip through the thin cotton of her pajama bottoms.

"Don't say that, Logan. Don't ever say that," she replied, kissing the spot over his heart. "Without you, I'd be dead three times over. If you'd left me standing on the road, or in Magneto's hands, I wouldn't be here. You're everything to me, Logan. Everything."

Threading his hand through her hair, he raised her face to his. The love shone in her eyes as he brought the sheet between them and reverently kissed her lips.

They made love with a desperation that was new to him. She needed to confirm he was alive and he needed to confirm that she cared.

He was shocked when he entered her and felt the barrier of her virginity still intact. "Marie," he whispered, his breathing ragged, "we don't have to do this."

She took the matter out of his hands by raising her hips, pushing him deeper into her. She gasped in pain and he immediately stilled. He looked down into her eyes -- "Marie, baby, are you okay?"

Her eyes were wide and he watched her expression change from pain to wonder. "I'm fine, sugar," she replied. "I want," she moved again and he with her, "I want you so bad, Logan. I always have." He tried to go slow, but she wouldn't let him. With her hands and her hips and her words, she drove him on and he came, pounding into her harder than he had planned. He felt his whole self pouring into her, and while part of him realized that something was wrong, part of him thought it was exactly right.

Rogue was stunned by the intensity of the feelings overtaking her, and unable to believe that he actually felt the same for her as she did for him. She was straining, reaching for her climax when suddenly she felt the connection open up.

She struggled to push him off, to get him out of her, but having a metal skeleton made him far heavier than he looked. She could smell and hear and see far better than she ever had before. She shrieked in fear and fury, and was able to move him finally.

She stumbled out of the bed and saw the damaged condom, the thin strip of latex that was supposed to protect him and failed.

"Jean!" she shouted, sobbing. ~JEAN!~

And Jean and Scott were at the door, along with Hank and Ororo and half the students. She stood with her pajama bottoms stained with blood and Logan unconscious on his bed.

"It was an accident," she whispered. "The condom broke."

They were all careful with her. Or they were too shocked to be judgmental. In either case, no one said anything to her face. "Why don't you come with me?" Jean said compassionately. "I'll help you clean up."

Hank and Scott took Logan back down to the lab.

She went with Jean and numbly washed herself and changed her clothes as the older woman waited in her bedroom. "I'm not going to lecture you, Rogue," Jean said softly. "It would be pointless and mean. I just," she stopped, obviously searching for the right words. Rogue had moved from hysteria into shock, as she tried to assimilate the new pieces of Logan into her mind. "I'm going to get you a sedative and we'll talk in the morning." She squeezed the younger woman's shoulder. "It's okay, Rogue. He's going to be fine."

Jean closed the door behind her and leaned against it. When it rains, it pours, she thought.

Rogue sprang into action, pulling a duffel bag out of her closet and throwing some clothes into it. She had to be gone before he woke up. He wouldn't let her leave and she had to. She had to. She couldn't live with herself if she hurt him again. She'd already hurt him so much, so many times he'd given of himself to save her and the one time she gave of herself, she put him into a coma. And she knew he wouldn't blame her, knew he'd try to tell her it wasn't her fault. In her head, he was already saying that. But she had to leave. Because she couldn't go through life hurting the man she loved most.

She was gone, out the window and down the ivy that lined the back wall of the mansion, before Jean was back with the sedative.

She took her car and notified Xavier as soon as she reached LaGuardia. "I'm going away for a while, Professor," she said, her voice barely audible with the airport noise behind her. "Don't let him follow me."

"Rogue, you don't have to--"

"Yes, I do, Professor," she replied, "and you know why."

He sighed, deciding that arguing wouldn't be fruitful, and she knew she'd won. "Yes, child, I do."

"Tell him," she swallowed convulsively, "tell him I love him, but he can't come after me. Keep him there. Promise me."

"I promise to do my best to keep him from coming after you, Rogue, but I can't guarantee that he won't," Xavier replied.

"Then tell him I don't want him to. Tell him I can't see him. Tell him I'm dead. I don't care, but I can't see him right now."

Xavier knew she was edging toward hysteria, and he closed his eyes and sent calming thoughts her way. He could hear the announcements in the background and already knew what her next words would be. "Is that your flight, Rogue? You're going to Mississippi?"

"Yeah. I have, I have an aunt who'll take me in, I think. For a few days, anyway."

"You'll always have a home here, Rogue."

"I know, Professor. Thank you."

And she hung up.

Three weeks in Meridian convinced her that while her Aunt Hettie was fine with the situation, the rest of the family was not. Using her credit card and some cash she'd saved from working as a teacher at the school, she moved to New Orleans and got a job as a receptionist at a funeral home. It was quiet and nobody questioned her odd mode of dress.

And then she found out she was pregnant.

She'd never been regular, so missing a month meant nothing to her. But the constant nausea and vomiting every day were worrisome. She stopped off at a drug store on the way home from work one night and picked up a pregnancy test.

When the stick turned blue, she cried for the first time since leaving the mansion. She was going to have Logan's baby.

---

Logan came out of the coma and Xavier told him of Marie's request. He was going to ignore it, until a little voice in his head nagged at him, accused him of playing on her infatuation to get her into bed, and then screwing her head up by not being careful. He was vaguely familiar with his conscience -- it only ever seemed to kick in when Marie was involved. He didn't like feeling guilty, and he withdrew almost completely from life at the mansion. He told himself that if she came back, he would be worthy of her love. He strove to get along with the others on the rare occasions he was in their company -- even Scott -- and he swore to a god he didn't believe in that he'd never hurt her again, if only she'd come back.

He'd never imagined her homecoming would be like this.

---

Present...

He got up and paced before deciding he couldn't sit alone in his room, indulging in self-pity, when she needed him. He could make the pain go away if nothing else, he thought, as he made his way down to the med lab, where Jean was running some tests.

He walked in, but Rogue wasn't there. "Where is she?" he asked, unreasoning panic gripping him, making his stomach clench in fear.

Hank turned and smiled. "She woke up and didn't want to stay down here. After we made sure everything was okay, Jean took her up to her room."

"Everything is okay? Everything is okay?" He didn't seem to have control of his voice -- he was shouting at Hank, who was possibly his closest friend in the damn place, except for Marie.

The big man shrugged. "Physically, she's going to be fine, Logan. There was no damage to any of her reproductive organs. She doesn't have any cysts or tumors. She was quite dehydrated, so we hooked her up to an IV and sent her on her way." He nodded toward one of the stools at the desk and Logan sat.

"What -- why did it happen?" he asked, finally, dreading Hank's answer.

"We don't know, Logan. Miscarriages are not uncommon, though this was rather later than most, and while it appears that Rogue lost a lot of blood, physically, she's fine."

"You keep saying physically. What's that supposed to mean? She ain't doin' too well mentally? What?" Logan demanded.

"She's very upset. She seems to think it was somehow her fault, which, of course, it wasn't. Yes, she should have been under a doctor's care, but I think we can all understand why she wasn't. It's hard enough down South for a single woman to have a baby, even in this day and age. Imagine how much more difficult it must be for a mutant, especially one with a mutation as extreme as Rogue's." Hank sighed. "Charles, Jean and I will do some counseling with her, and we may even bring in an expert -- Logan, it's not your fault," he said, as Logan rose and started pacing.

Logan shot him a look. "I thought you weren't psychic."

"I'm not. But you had that 'It's all my fault' look. I know it, Logan. I just saw it on Rogue's face."

"But it is my fault, Hank. If I had gone after her -- hell, I coulda beaten her location out of her father, if I couldn't charm it out of her aunt. But no, I went to Mississippi and when they slammed the door in my face, I ran home with my tail between my legs."

"She didn't want to see you, Logan. She doesn't blame you."

"She's a goddamn twenty-two year old girl who was pregnant and alone, Hank. I shoulda fucking been there when she needed me," he exploded, extending the claws and raking the desk.

Hank raised an eyebrow as he moved out of the other man's way. "I'd appreciate it if you kept your rampage confined to this end of the room, Logan," he said wryly. "We have some very expensive new equipment on the other side, and I'm sure Charles wouldn't appreciate you dismantling it before we get to test it out."

Logan growled but retracted the blades. "I just, I feel so fucking helpless, Hank. I hate that."

"I know," Hank replied simply. "You can be there for her now, though, Logan, and help her get through this sad time." He rose as well, and put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Don't forget, it was your child, too, Logan. Take some time and let yourself mourn." With that, he left the Logan standing in the lab, eyes suddenly burning from unshed tears.

---

He went upstairs to her room, feeling the weight of his unnumbered years and his metal bones. He paused, hand on the doorknob, wondering what to say, when he heard her soft, even breathing. He sighed in relief. She was asleep. Quietly, he entered the room and pulled over the chair from her desk so he could sit next to the bed, watching over her. He inhaled deeply, letting her scent calm him when nothing else could have. She was home, she was safe, and this time, he'd make sure he didn't screw up.

---

He woke to the sound of footsteps in the hall -- and the quiet hum of Xavier's wheelchair. He could hear them speaking softly.

"I admit, I hadn't considered the possibility," Jean was saying, "but that would be amazing."

"And wonderful," Xavier added. "Hank did some extensive studying on Scott and his brother before Alex left for Stanford. Their powers only magnify each other's; each is unharmed by the other's blasts.

"If such a thing were to be so for Rogue and her child, it would mean that she'd be able to touch at least one person without fear. A truly miraculous event."

"And we could study the child's skin -- maybe discover an enzyme or enzyme-inhibitor that would block Rogue's mutation. Charles, I don't know why I didn't think of it before -- with Rogue's permission, I'll put a call into Philippe and see if they still have the fetus. We could run some tests..."

Logan tuned them out at a muffled sob from the bed. Marie was awake, she was hearing it too, he gathered. He wasn't sure what to do or say, so he just reached out a hand and wiped away the tears that fell silently down her face.

Her eyes closed and she raised her chin, trying to swallow the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again. Immune to her touch. She had never, ever thought that would be possible. She had cried herself to sleep at night for three weeks after she found out she was pregnant, worrying over what to do.

Her first instinct had been to keep the child, keep some tangible part of Logan that she could love forever, and that would love her back. The piece of him in her head had agreed.

But then she began thinking about her mutation. Other people could afford to forget theirs, even if only for a few hours of sleep at night, but if Rogue had a baby, she could never relax, never stop worrying about the effects of an accidental touch on such a small creature. At that point, she had seriously considered an abortion, but was too frightened of revealing herself as a mutant to a local doctor and not yet ready to come back to Westchester and face Logan in order to see Jean or Hank.

And now, to learn that her weeks and months of worrying had possibly been moot. That there was a chance her baby -- and she sobbed again, before stifling it quickly -- their baby, would have been immune to her skin.

She looked up at Logan -- he was a little blurry because of the tears -- and wondered how he could stand to look at her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and then Jean was knocking at the door and there was no time to say more.

Jean's manner was professional and cheerful. She didn't seem surprised to see Logan in the room.

"Good morning, Rogue, Logan. I'm just here to check on your IV and then Professor Xavier and I would like to discuss grief counseling with you." She bustled around the room, opening the curtains and letting the light in, before she switched bags on the IV pole and checked to make sure the needle was secure in Rogue's arm. "As you can see, we didn't make any changes to your room, Rogue. We just put clean sheets on the bed before you came up last night, and Jubilee gave the furniture a lick and a promise with a dust rag." She looked around at the dust floating in the sunlight and muttered, "Remind me not to ask her to dust ever again."

Xavier shot her an amused look and said, "Neither Jean nor I have any special training in this type of counseling, so we're willing to have someone come in if you feel the need. Especially as we're probably too close to the situation to be helpful. I've got a few recommendations, people I know, etcetera, but we wanted to let you know that we are here for you, as are Scott, Ororo, Hank and the rest of the staff." He looked at the chair Logan had dragged over to the bedside and said, "If you'd like a cot brought in--"

"Yeah--" Logan began.

"No!" Rogue exclaimed, cutting him off.

Logan's face fell. She didn't even want to be in the same room with him. He should have followed her to New Orleans and dragged her back to Jean and Hank for medical care, even if she never wanted to see him again. He would leave Westchester if she asked him to. The only reason he'd stayed was in case she came home, and if she didn't want him around, he had little problem going. It would be too hard to live with her and know she hated him, while he still craved her touch, her voice, her scent.

Xavier looked from one to the other. "Listen to me, both of you," he said in his gentlest, but still commanding voice. "None of this was your fault. Accidents happen. Tragedies occur. No one is to blame." He raised his voice slightly. "No one. Is that clear?"

The both nodded like chastened children, and he and Jean went to the door. "Scott took over most of your classes, Rogue, but if you're up to it, you can resume teaching at any time," he said, and then both telepaths left.

"I don't understand," Jean murmured, thinking neither of them could hear her. "What do they have to be guilty about?"

"Nothing, but guilt is not rational, Jean. You know that."

And then their voices and their footsteps faded.

Logan turned to look at Marie, who was struggling to sit up in bed. He gently lifted her and fluffed the pillow so it would support her back.

"How you doin'?" he asked hoarsely.

She shrugged, refusing to look him in the eye. He sighed. She sniffled.

Shit, he thought. That one small sound, like the quiet way she'd tried to muffle her sobs earlier, made him hurt more than anything anyone had ever done to him, up to and including soldering adamantium to his bones. She was his mate, and she was in pain. It was the fact that he was the cause of her pain that made him want to curl up and die -- a novel feeling for the hardened Wolverine.

"Marie," he said.

She closed her eyes and slid back down in the bed. "Don't, Logan, please. I'm tired." I can't face you yet. I can't handle having you hate me for losing your baby.

"I'm just gonna go, then," he said.

"Yeah, okay. That'd be good," she replied.

She never wants to see me again, and who could blame her? As soon as she's all right, I'm outta here. I just gotta, I gotta find a way to make it right. Hank. Hank will know what to do, he thought, heading down to the lab to find Beast.

---

They circled each other warily for a few days. Rogue found it easy enough to avoid the confrontation she was sure was coming -- every time he got that serious look, she pretended she need to rest. After the first couple of times, she was sure he'd figured it out, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't face the end of their friendship; it was bad enough knowing she'd never be held in his arms again, never know if she really could have his baby -- touch his baby. She couldn't lose him altogether until she was just a little bit stronger.

Logan, for his part, was happy enough that she let him visit her, and had no problem at all sitting at her bedside, watching her sleep.

She really had been under a lot of strain over the past few months, and once again he cursed himself for a fool. He should have been there for her. He was trying to take Hank's advice to heart. He hadn't been there for her earlier, but he was going to be there for her now -- twenty-four, seven, if she'd let him.

---

She was soaking up sunlight in the garden when Scott found her. "How are you?" he asked, sitting beside her.

She shrugged. "Been better." She frowned slightly. "Been worse."

He nudged his shoulder against hers. "That's it?"

She bumped back, smiling for what seemed to Scott like the first time in days. "Yeah."

He leaned into her again. Sometimes, with her, he acted like the little kid he never got to be. And before she left, she'd responded the same way, instinctively understanding what he was doing.

"You can't pretend to fall asleep every time Logan wants to talk to you. Sooner or later, Jean's going to test you for narcolepsy, if you keep it up." The smiled dropped off her face and he silently cursed. He just wanted her to be happy. Hell, he even wanted Logan to be happy. The man had been miserable for months, and it made Scott miserable just looking at him.

"I just," she swallowed, fighting against the tears that threatened every time she thought about having to talk to Logan, face her failure, and see him turn away from her in disgust, "I'm so scared he's going to hate me because of what happened. I mean, if I had just paid more attention, taken better care of myself--"

"Rogue," Scott grabbed her hands, and she turned to look at him, startled, "I know you won't believe me when I say this, but it's not your fault. Hank thinks it was just -- the baby wasn't healthy. It had nothing to do with you. It happens sometimes, and it's nobody's fault.

"Logan loves you," he continued, and anyone who'd known him five months ago would have been shocked to hear him say it, but Scott paid a lot more attention to the people in the mansion than most gave him credit for. Just because he always wore glasses, didn't mean he was blind. "He loves you," he repeated, "and he wants you to be well. Just talk to him, and you'll see."

She sniffed, a plaintive little sound that almost broke his heart. "Thanks, Scott," she whispered, leaning into him and started crying again. He stroked her back and let her sob in peace.

She thought about what he'd said, and decided that even if he was wrong about Logan loving her, Logan still deserved an explanation. She loved him too much not to give him one, even if it drove him away from her forever.

Resolved, she stopped crying and thanked Scott again; she brushed her lips against his glasses, where it wouldn't hurt him, and he felt his own eyes get slightly teary.

"You'll get through this," he murmured, as he rose.

"I know," she replied. She hesitated, then said, "I've been thinking -- is it too morbid to have a memorial service or something? I mean, my baby died. It wasn't just a fetus to me."

"Sure, Rogue," he said softly, taking her hand for a moment. "I'll talk to the professor. We can arrange something for you, no problem."

---

Logan was watching her sleep. It had become his nightly routine. He snuck in when he was sure she was sleeping, and out just before she awakened. He needed to know she was there, and safe, and healthy.

He was starting to doze himself when her cries brought him awake, upright and ready to fight. She thrashed on the bed, crying out, "No! No!" and he knew she was having a nightmare.

He pulled on gloves and called her name softly. He brushed the silvery white locks off her face and her eyes opened, still glazed with sleep and fear.

"Logan?"

"I'm here, Marie."

In the dim room, she could barely make out his features, but his voice was gentle. Whatever he might be feeling toward her, she thought, he wasn't angry right now.

"Can you, can you get me a glass of water and some Advil?" she whispered.

"Sure, kid."

He went into the bathroom and turned the water on. He leaned his head against he mirror for a moment, trying to get his breathing under control. He couldn't take the scent of fear on her. It made him want to kill. After a few deep breaths, he yanked open the medicine chest and grabbed the bottle of Advil. A small glassine bag holding three white pills floated down into the sink. Unthinkingly, he grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket before returning to her side, water and painkillers in hand.

She smiled gratefully and his heart soared -- it was the first smile he'd seen from her since they'd found her.

"Please stay," she murmured after swallowing the pills and most of the water.

"I ain't goin' anywhere, darlin'," he replied, settling back into his chair for the night.

---

The next morning, as he was stripping for his shower, the little plastic bag fell out of his pocket. He picked it up and looked at it. It had a small white label on which "RU-486" was written. His brow furrowed in concentration. He knew he'd heard of it, but couldn't think of where or why. While he showered, he wracked his brain, but still came up with nothing.

After a hearty breakfast at which Rogue did not appear, he headed over to the computer lab. He would look it up on the Internet -- it would probably turn out to be something Jean had given her, but he wanted to be sure.

He walked in and stopped cold. Even six years of being an X-geek hadn't gotten him used to computers. He was capable enough to do his grading and his student evaluations, but he really wasn't big on the whole web-surfing thing. Why bother when you could go into town, drink beer and kick ass?

He booted up one of the PCs and looked around. There were three or four other kids in the lab, none of whom were over the age of fifteen, he thought. Dammit, I gotta ask one of the munchkins for help? Deciding that Rahne would be the most likely to help without blabbing to the whole building, he jerked his head at her when she looked up from her homework.

"I, uh, need a little help here, kid," he said when she came over.

"Sure thing, Logan," she said in her soft Scots accent.

"I need to find something on the Internet."

"Okay. First, you have to connect..." She led him through the process and got him to Google.

"Google?" he asked, feeling stupid.

"If they can't find it, no one can," she assured him.

"Thanks, Rahne," he said as she walked back to her seat.

Using two fingers, he typed in "RU-486" and clicked "I'm feeling lucky!"

He was rewarded with an immediate match. *Snikt* He had enough presence of mind to shred the table next to the one he was sitting at, which, thankfully, had no equipment on it. Two words jumped out at him: "Abortion pill." Then, "To cause abortion, mifepristone, known as RU-486, is used early in pregnancy with another drug, misoprostol, which prompts uterine contractions."

He read a couple of the articles, and while he was by no means anti-abortion, the idea that these pills were in Marie's possession gave him serious pause.

Had she wanted to get rid of the baby? Had they all been mistaken?

He jumped up, leaving the mess behind, and headed down to the lab.

Hank was there, puttering around with his very expensive equipment that no one but Hank, and possibly God, knew how to use.

Logan slammed the pills down on the desk. "Tell me she didn't take these," he growled, startling the furry doctor.

Hank peered at the baggie through his glasses. "No, Logan. No traces of mifepristone were found in her system. It was a natural miscarriage."

"Then why, why--" He couldn't continue; he could hear his voice break and he didn't want to lose it, even in front of Hank.

Hank put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "She was scared, Logan. She was keeping her options open -- not that she could have used this successfully after the first nine weeks or so. She bought it on the street -- this isn't from any doctor or pharmacy."

Logan growled again, at the idea of her being scared, alone and pregnant. He could tell, though, that Hank was telling the truth. "Thanks," he said, regaining control. "Thanks."

---

He found Rogue in the library, curled up with a book in one of the leather chairs.

"Hey," he said, not wanting to startle her as he had Hank.

"Hey, yourself," she replied.

"You think you could stay awake for a few minutes?" he asked, teasing to cover his nervousness. "I think we need to talk."

She sighed and put the book down. She'd known she could only put the confrontation off for so long, but now that it was finally here, she was terrified. "Yeah," she said.

He thought hard about what to say. You have to let me help you, was his first idea, and then he realized, It's not about you, asshole. It's about her. What can I do -- that's it. "What can I do to help you, Marie?" He hated feeling helpless more than anything.

"I, I don't know," she said.

He sat down in the chair next to hers and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning in close. "I always wonder if I got kids somewhere, you know?" he began. "I can't remember, and sometimes it bothers me, thinking that I got kids out there who grew up without a daddy."

"I think you'd be a great daddy," she whispered so low that no one but him would ever have heard her.

He closed his eyes; he was making progress. She didn't seem to hate him, anyway. "And I'm sorry that this baby -- that this didn't work out. But that doesn't mean that, you know, someday--" He broke off as she jumped out of her seat and began pacing.

"It was all my fault, Logan. That first month -- I had no idea. If I had taken better care of myself -- but I never thought I was pregnant. And then I was scared, I was so scared that you hated me, so I couldn't come back here. And I couldn't go to a doctor in New Orleans, because I was afraid they wouldn't help a mutant.

"I never wanted to hurt our baby. I'm so, so sorry I failed. I understand if you hate me now, even if you didn't before."

He grabbed her hand and she stopped in front of him. "Look at me, Marie," he commanded gently when she wouldn't meet his eyes. Finally, she looked at him. "I could never, ever hate you, darlin'." He reached up and tapped the side of her head. "You still got me up there?" She nodded. "Then you know that already. When we were together that night, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Marie, and don't you ever forget it.

"I understand if you hate me," he continued, echoing her words deliberately, "because I left you alone in a rough situation. I should have followed you. I did meet your father, and he slammed the door in my face. I crawled back here like a yellow dog, too scared that you never wanted to see me again after what happened." All his reservations about her feelings for him, about their relationship, came flooding back as she said nothing. He looked down at their still-joined hands. "After I took advantage of you--"

"No!" she said loudly, making them both jump a little. "You never took advantage, Logan. I've loved you for so long. I could never hate you. I just don't want you to be with someone you can never touch -- someone who could kill you if we make a tiny little mistake or if something goes wrong."

"I love you, Marie, and I'm willin' to take the risks if it means wakin' up with you in the morning, and goin' to sleep with you every night. I haven't forgotten -- you're shin'ai na -- beloved to me." He pulled her closer and she moved into his lap willingly, and together they mourned for their lost child, and took comfort in their love for each other.

They went out to the professor's study hand-in-hand, ready to say a final goodbye to the baby. Xavier led them out beside the lake, and spoke a few words that might have been comforting, if Rogue had been listening. Instead, she was whispering goodbye to her child, inside her head.

---

Epilogue

Three months later...

"Marie, come on, let's just do it."

"No, Logan. Not until we test the condom," she said, filling it with water to make sure there were no leaks.

"Dammit, Marie," he growled.

"Hey, be happy I ain't makin' you wear two of 'em."

He grabbed her from behind and she spilled water all over the sink. "Logan!" she exclaimed, only slightly annoyed.

"That's right, darlin', I want you to say my name." He pressed his lips to the hair above her ear, "But I want you to say it when I'm inside you."

She licked her lips and shivered in anticipation. "I just want you to be safe," she said, "and this way, we know for sure it's not gonna break."

"Hey, can I help it if I'm so damn big?" he teased. She elbowed him, hard, which hurt her more than it hurt him, really, because having adamantium ribs makes a man pretty impervious to all but the most brutal elbow attacks. He got the message, though, and ran his hands over her hips and waist, and slid down her abdomen, seeking the heat between her legs.

"Logan," she moaned, from desire this time, as his gloved hands slid under her pajama bottoms and into the wetness of her sex. He turned her slightly, and swung the door to the bathroom shut, so they could see themselves in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

He pushed the pajamas down to the floor and when she lifted her foot to step out, he took it and placed it on the lid of the toilet. She kicked the clothing away and leaned back against him as he stroked her. One gloved hand crept around his neck to run through his hair while the other gripped the forearm that was braced against the sink.

She moved her hips insistently, gasping and moaning as his fingers worked their magic on her sex.

"Open your eyes, baby," he murmured as he felt her climax approaching. "You're so beautiful, Marie. I love you so much. Yeah, that's it baby, you got it," he whispered hoarsely as he felt her clench around his fingers.

She watched herself in the mirror, feeling deliciously wanton, as he pressed kisses to her shoulders through the thin shirt she wore. Then he raised his head, his eyes meeting and holding hers in the mirror as she came.

She went limp, and he slid an arm beneath her knees and carried her to the bed. "I think we're gonna need this now," he said, plucking the condom from her fingers.

"Yeah," she replied, helping him slip it on, her hands already roaming his body beneath the thin shirt he wore to protect himself. "I love you, too, Logan. And maybe someday, we won't need it."

End