I’m on my way to the kitchen. Shouldn’t be up and sneaking in the dark at this hour, but sometimes I get this wicked craving for ice cream. Sue me. I’m a girl.

I’m already deeply engrossed to my fantasy over a carton filled with chocolate ice cream with small bits of cookie dough, coffee syrup and almonds when a noise catches my ears. A whimper. From somewhere close.

I really have to get my ears checked, because I have to be hearing things. There’s no way the occupant behind that door is whimpering. No way. I have caught many kinds of sounds coming from behind that door. Growls, burps, cussing, sometimes even moans when he’s doing something I’m not supposed to know because I’m just a girl and he’s a grown man.

I strain my hearing. When I can’t hear a thing I decide I was hallucinating. I should go to Jean first thing in the morning and ask her to check my ears. Maybe my head, too, while she’s at it. I take a step, and there it is again. A muffled sob. And this time I’m sure I heard it. Because it’s followed closely by a gasp.

I shook my head. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Suddenly that ice cream sounds very appealing. Surely I’m not going to stand here and listen while Logan jerks off…

Oh, yeah… I grasp the carton from the freezer. It’s almost empty, but it’s all mine. Everybody knows how much I appreciate this particular brand and flavor, so they leave it alone. It’s cold, it’s creamy, sticky, sweet and little salty thick goop and I will probably look like a freaking Michelin-man before I’m twenty, but as soon as first mouthful melts over my tongue I’m past caring. I might get fat. Fat enough to break chairs, but as long as I can do it eating this ambrosia… Oh…

It’s over too soon. Carton is empty. I tore it open and licked the remains of the ice cream from it before throwing it to the trash bin. Sue me. It’s chocolate.

I’m still reeling from the amount of sugar and chocolate when I walk past Logan’s room. I have to stop and return in front of it. Unbelievable. He’s still at it. I spend good part of an hour in the kitchen, and he’s still grunting and mewling. But somehow that doesn’t sound… Uh… Okay. I have been eavesdropping. I know how he sounds. What moans and whispers leaves his lips while he’s masturbating. It’s ugly and dirty thing to do, to spy on something so private, but it’s probably the closest thing to a real sex I’m ever going to get, so back off! And his voice is all wrong. I lean against the door to hear better. It might be one of his nightmares and I should probably go to wake up Jean so she can… Oh, shit. Door opens.

Just a small crack. It wasn’t even closed properly. That’s a relief. I can just leave and… What’s that smell?

I know the usual scents coming out of Logan’s room. Tobacco from his cigars, slight tint of beer, and something that must be Logan himself. This is new, yet familiar somehow. Metallic. Copper. Blood. Lots of it. Something is wrong. Really wrong.

I push the door little more open, carefully. It might be one of his nightmares, and getting skewered once was enough, thank you. I’m not freaking suicidal. I peak around the door when another moan comes from the dimly lit room. Room is empty. Light comes from under the bathroom door. As does the noises. Water dripping. More small cries and groans. Nightmare. And he’s awake now. I know I should go and get Jean. Sometimes she has to sedate Logan so that he can get back to sleep. But I can’t go. Not just yet. I have to know…

There’s a mirror on a closet door in Logan’s room. Both doors, door to bathroom, and that mirrored closet door are partially open. Sight that greets me through that mirror is nearly enough to send me out screaming, but something pulls me in to the room. I must be sick. Sick to the bone.

Logan’s sitting in the bathtub. Water is nearly dark red, sloshing around his waist. As I watch he raises his hand. Claws out. They’re trailing long, deep gouges across his chest. His back arches and he lets out a small hiss through clenched teeth. His head droops backwards against the brim of the tub when wounds on his chest bleed for few seconds before closing. His chest is heaving, and there’s moisture on his face. It isn’t water. Sweat and tears. Again clawed hand rises, slicing across his abdomen. Low gasp. One hand is working furiously under the surface of the water, and suddenly he flexes his hips, bucking, and I can see he’s indeed doing something little girls like me shouldn’t know about. His whole body is glistening from blood. It’s slicking his shaft and he’s pumping it slowly. Again clawed caress, this time from his shoulder all the way down to his thigh, and his half hooded eyes are closing completely. It takes a little longer to repair that long and deep gash, and he keeps rubbing it, as if trying to keep it open even longer. His lower body is grinding against his palm with slow, rolling pace and he’s panting, tips of his teeth flashing from behind his parted lips.

I can barely contain my scream when Logan raises partly out of the water, his knuckles pressed against his abdomen, one hand still grasping and caressing his erect cock. I can hear sickening crunch when he impales himself with his claws. His hoarse cry drowns luckily any possible noises that I make when he comes. Thick, white ribbons spurting, landing to the water, stark contrast with the dark blood red color of it.

I walk out of the room. I don’t want to get caught. I don’t want him to know, that I know. But I can’t go back to sleep. Not after witnessing something so brutal. More ice cream should do the trick.

I’m halfway through a carton of vanilla when Logan strolls in to kitchen, humming slightly under his breath. He snatches a bottle of soda from the fridge.
“The hell are you doing up at this hour? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He asks. All normal. Relaxed.
“Umm… Yeah. Just wanted some ice cream.” Logan shivers.
“I’ll never understand the concept of stuffing yourself with icy goop…”
“We all have our little vices…” I mutter, trying desperately to sound normal. Logan nods and pulls a cigar from his pocket.
“That we do…” He breathes and walks out from the kitchen, to back patio. Brief flash of matchstick, and steady glow of the tip of his cigar.

“We all have our little vices…” Marie whispers. A cigar would be a good idea right about now.
“That we do…” Sweet Jesus. Haven’t felt this good in ages. There’s only so much that a willing partner can do. Usually it just takes off the edge, keeps me from losing it completely. Don’t really know if the need for blood is something I have always had, or is it something that has developed over the years, but when it starts to itch, I have to scratch it.

I have always had a healthy appetite when it comes to sex. I bet Scooter would say I’m just dirty old pervert. I may be. But that’s something between me and myself. Don’t go clawing random fucks. I’m no sadist.

Feels like I can finally breathe properly. Night is warm. Cigar is good. I’m relaxed, fucking boneless. Marie’s in the kitchen. Can smell vanilla and her shampoo. She looked little flustered when I walked in, but I guess anybody is a bit off at this time of night.

Now, there’s something I can’t understand. I have tried to ask her, several times, but it looks like she doesn’t know, either. What the fuck is it with women and ice cream? When I wake up in the middle of the night my first instinct doesn’t drive me out of bed to search something sugary and cold. My first instinct usually tells me to fuck off, because it would like to continue sleeping.

“You had a nightmare?” Marie. Standing at the doorstep. White pajamas and pink bunny slippers.
“No. Just came to smoke.”
“Oh. It’s a nice night,” she says and shuffles to the chair next to mine.
“Yeah. What about you? What’s keeping you up?” I ask. It’s only polite, and I kind of like her company.
“Just came to get some ice cream.”
“New slippers?” I haven’t seen those on her before. She plops one foot to my lap for closer inspection. Pink. Fluffy. Bunny. And it fucking stares at me. Creepy.
“Went to mall with Jubes today. These were just too cute to be left alone.” She fiddles her toes, and long, pink bunny-ear flops down on top of beady bunny-eye. Downright creepy. Suddenly she seems to remember something.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you earlier! I got my ears pierced!”

Suddenly I have a lap full of Marie, offering her earlobe under my scrutiny. Usually wouldn’t give a flying fuck about what these critters do, but she’s different. I kind of feel responsible of her. She shuffles and tries to lean closer so that I can see and bumps against my chest. I pretend to choke on my cigar, because that bump… I’m not completely healed, and that short brush of her elbow felt way too good.
“Stop squirming. Let me see…” Because I know somebody who will get not one, but three piercings through his balls if Marie’s isn’t done properly. I know the guy who runs the shop at the mall.

I have to admit they look good on her. Two on both earlobes. Small hoops dangling from them.
“Silver?” It doesn’t look like silver, but what do I know?
“Surgical steel. Guy that did this said to wait until they were healed before trying other materials.”
“Smart guy…”

She sighs and leans her head to my shoulder, cradling against me like a kitten. She is growing up. Wearing make-up, giggling with Jubilee and other kids, shopping skimpy clothes and getting straight A’s in classes, but nights like these, when she’s with me, she’s not Rogue. She’s Marie again. Little kid I found from my trailer.
“Come on, don’t fall asleep on me.” We should get back in before she catches cold or something.
“I bet there aren’t too many women you have to say that…” She’s grinning and sliding off from my lap.
“You’re the only one, darling…” I slap her ass lightly when she disappears giggling back to the mansion.

It actually happened once. I was out here, having a beer and a cigar when she came to me. Just hopped on my lap. We started talking. Talked just about everything there is to talk about. Good and long conversation. I finished my beer and cigar and got some more. Didn’t get drunk, but had definitely a slight buzz going on. It was well past midnight when Marie finally dozed off. I was going to finish my cigar and carry her to her bed after it. Next thing I realized it was morning, and Scooter was staring at me, his nose only inches from mine, quite puzzled look on his face. Took a lot of explaining and mindscan from Xavier before they believed my explanation of how I had gotten there, half naked kid on my lap.

Yeah. It’s getting colder. Closer to dawn. Dew clinging to every surface. I should go back to bed, but what’s the point. In two hours I have to get up anyway. Might as well sit here and enjoy the silence.

It’s kind of hard to concentrate to math when you have an x-rated movie running through your head.

It was surprisingly easy to act as if nothing had happened when Logan came to the kitchen. He went to have a smoke and I followed him. I had to know if it really had been just some weird sexual escapade I had witnesses, not something spurred on by one of his nightmares. Eventually he sent me back to bed.

I had no weird dreams. It wasn’t until I was getting dressed at the next morning when the shock over what I had seen caught me.

I know Logan. One could say I know him maybe better than he himself. I have had him in my head once, right after the Statue of Liberty. I know he’s not a nice guy. He can be downright cruel at times. Even towards me if he’s in pissy mood. He drinks. He smokes. He roams around and fucks almost anything with working heart and pair of legs. He’s definitely not a nice guy, or even somebody to fantasize over. Mansion is filled with good-looking, fuckable male specimens. Logan’s too old, too mean and too hairy to star in my daydreams.

Yet when I’m supposed to learn how to calculate right angles, and listen carefully how Scott explains it to all of us, my mind is wandering around in Logan’s room.

Instead of sneaking out like a frightened little girl I’m walking in to his bathroom. Salty, coppery scent clings to me like a second skin. Logan’s still in the tub, his hooded gaze following my every move. He hasn’t finished yet. Tip of his cock is peeking through the surface of the crimson mixture of water and blood, leaking pre-cum. He doesn’t talk, just stares at me with his smoldering eyes and tilts his head, inviting me to join him with that small gesture. I’m already naked, and step in to the tub. It’s warm. Warm and slick from his blood…

I really have to get a grip from myself. Next class is physics. I really can’t face the Professor with that kind of filth floating around in my head. I know that he doesn’t go around reading peoples minds randomly, but I know I must be projecting my sick fantasy quite loudly. I don’t want to get in to trouble. I don’t want to get Logan in to trouble.

Oncoming headache. Lame excuse, but it’s the best I can come up with such short notice. I have to get my head straightened. Professor excuses me from the rest of the classes today and I’m free to go to my room and lock up the door.

I know about birds and bees. Fucking everybody knows about them. And I know about the darker stuff, too. Not because of Logan, but because of healthy amount of curiosity, and state of the art computers with access to Internet installed to the computer class. The stuff involving roses with thorns on them. Up until now I have thought that it really isn’t my cup of tea. I’m perfectly willing to admit there are people who get off from that stuff, but I haven’t really understood it. I still don’t. But I understand that I might be one of those people. And apparently Logan is.

It’s kind of weird. Nothing in my stolen memories from him hints to this direction. He really didn’t hold anything back at the Statue. He gave it all to me. I have personal, up-close info and knowledge how it feels to fuck different women in different ways, mouth, ass and vagina, between breasts… Logan can be very creative when he puts his mind in to something. And sex is something to him. A lot of something. Many times it’s everything to him. Positions and women change throughout his whole memory, but one thing is constant. There’s no pain or blood involved. Well, maybe some, but it’s mostly women scratching his back in throes of their orgasm. Nothing like he was doing last night.

Well, at least I know it’s something of my own. Not something I have picked up from him. Yay, me! I can be a pervert, all by myself! I should probably be worried. Worried and very, very ashamed. But it’s quite hard to be either, when image of Logan, sitting opposite me in the pool of his blood is the biggest turn-on I have ever stumbled upon.

I’m finishing my class, giving kids last instructions and sending them to showers when Professor wheels in to gym.
“Logan,” he greets me with that ever-present, polite smile of his. I nod and grunt. Start collecting scattered gym mats. Xavier just sits there, staring at me with unreadable expression on his face, and truth to be told, it’s freaking me out. Like he knows something about me. And there’s not much that he already doesn’t know about me.

“It’s Rogue.”
“What about her?” I ask, dragging the pile of green mats to the side.
“There’s something bothering her. I gave her rest of the day free. I was hoping you could look in to it.”
“Why me?” It’s not like I’m her guardian. I’m just a guy who had enough common sense to offer her a free ride when she was running.
“She trusts you.” Duh. And why is that?
“She trusts me. Have you ever considered why?” Because for a telepath Xavier can be quite slow on the uptake.
“Every freaking time there’s something wrong with her, or she needs somebody, you push her to me. Like I was the only one capable of taking care of her. No wonder she thinks I’m the only reliable one around here…”
“If that’s how you feel, it may be better if I asked Jean…” Professor starts.
“Don’t bother. I’ll go and see what’s going on.”

As much as I hate to play counselor to a teenage girl, I have to admit that the trust she so openly offers tickles my ego in a good way. Like I could be something more that I am. Like I really could be somebody. Somebody worthy of that trust. So, I take a quick shower and get dressed before taking the lift to first floor. Go and make myself a sandwich before taking the stairs to the second floor.

“Just a minute!” I can hear bedclothes rustling after I knock on the door. Is she sick? In bed at this time of the day? Door opens, and she stands there, dressed to her pajamas and those hideous bunny-slippers. I swear one of those is trying to wink at me. Creepy.
“You alright? Professor asked me to check on you.” She blushes. She actually blushes, cheeks turning to crimson.
“I’m… I’m just fine. It’s just a little headache…” She stutters. And that’s a fucking lie. Big fat lie. First one I have ever caught her.
“Need anything? I could go and ask Jean some painkillers,” I propose, just to see how she’ll react. She squirms a bit, the shakes her head.
“No. I just need to sleep it off. I guess I was up too late last night…” And she’s blushing even more, eyes darting between her slippers and the doorframe. She knows she can’t fool me. Have to give her some credit for trying. I would probably have bought her act if it had been any other of these brats scurrying around. But what the hell. It’s obviously something personal.
“Okay. But go to see Jean if you’re not better tomorrow.”

I have rest of the day off. I can just kick back and relax. Best place to do it would be the garage. Tinkering with my bike. Not going to happen today. I noticed earlier from the roster that Scott had the place booked to his mechanics class for the rest of the day. Now there’s just something about that guy that makes me want to growl and pop my claws. Just out of the principle. To see how high he would jump. He’s so fucking anal about every little detail. I bet that if Jean bothered to take a look, she would find quite thick and long pole buried up in Scott’s ass. And wasn’t that just disturbing image…

Yeah. There’s much more important things to think about than Scott and poles in any part of his anatomy. Like Marie, for example. What is so freaking personal that she feels uncomfortable discussing about it with me? I fucking know what kind of tampons she uses, and when. If that’s not personal, and kind of awkward, then I don’t know what is.

Might be some guy. There’s a scary thought. Marie with guys. Men rarely tend to think with their brain when Marie’s in close proximity. With that skin of hers… It’s going to be hell when she finally decides to loosen up and start dating. Might be a good idea to bail out from here before it happens. Or not. If anything, it should be quite amusing to watch those brats first toppling over each other in their haste to nail her, then toppling over when they get first hand experience from her touch.

Shit. I really am a bastard. But on the other hand, why the fuck should I care?

Shit. Shitsthitshit… I just lied to Logan. I have a feeling he didn’t buy my half-assed story. Thank God he wasn’t in his guardian-mode. He would have grilled me until I caved in, and that would have ended badly. It’s one thing to fantasize about him in a compromising situation, but completely another thing to confess those fantasies to him. If they even are fantasies. I’m not really sure about that.

Maybe it really is just the surprise and shock that makes me act like this. I know Logan’s not the saint I sometimes tend to picture him. Maybe I’m really not turned on. Maybe it was just some sort of weird dream. After all, I ate shitload of ice cream. Maybe I’m really in the med lab right now, getting my stomach pumped.

Yeah. And maybe pigs will fly out of my ass. Better just face it. I’m a pervert. A pervert who gets off from blood. Kind of depressing if you think about it. I already have this quirky mutation, which will most likely prevent me from having sex in conventional way. Add this warped desire on top of that. Presto! Instant forever virgin! I mean what kind of a guy would want to get in bed with a girl whom he can’t touch, and who on top of that wants him to spill his guts, quite literally? I’m betting there’s not that many of those around. Might as well move to convent and take on the habit…

But before drastic measures I could indulge to a steaming hot bubble bath one last time. I have a feeling that as a bride of Christ I won’t be allowed to wallow in that kind of sin. Yeah. That will be so good. Hot water, some vanilla-scented gel in it… Nice and relaxing. I’m really getting a headache of the century from all this fussing and iffing.

Except that I’m all out of vanilla. All I have is a bottle of strawberry that Jubes bought me for last Christmas. And there was something seriously wrong with that stuff. In the bottle it looked innocent enough. Bright red, as one would assume something strawberry-scented would be. I guess they botched up that batch in the factory or something, because it colored the bathwater, and my skin dark shade of red. It took a freaking week to wear off.

Maybe I’ll pass that bath for now. Have to figure out something else to take my mind off from last night.

Reading? A good book with a box of chocolates I have stashed just for the situations like this. Small cherry hearts covered with dark chocolate. Cost a small fortune, but they’re well worth the price. Candied cherry floating around in cherry liqueur, cocooned to sugar and chocolate. I shouldn’t even have this stuff. It’s just candy, but I bet Scott would have a fit if he found it from me. Like there was enough booze to get me drunk…

Chocolate? Check. Comfortable position on the bed? Check. Good book? Umm… Check. I guess. I’m not in the mood to go to the library, and all I have is some trashy harlequin that I borrowed from Jubes week ago. Haven’t gotten past first twenty pages yet. Not that I’m a slow reader, but that stuff really isn’t something you read for literary values.

Take the one in my possession for example. It’s about a guy who works as a bodyguard. He’s protecting a woman who writes harlequins. Come on! How lame can you get? Story has maybe some redeeming qualities. Hero is tall, dark and mysterious man with a shady past, and he keeps having nightmares. Of course the heroin must rescue him from the horrors he faces on nightly basis. Shit. I have a gut feeling this isn’t going to work. Fuck it. I’m quite sure there’s no blood filled bathtubs in this one. Might as well keep reading…

This should be hot and steamy. I’m starting to doze off after two pages. When the hero starts quite predictable rant about how he’s not good enough for her I have had enough. I got that speech from Logan right after the Statue. It was quite embarrassing. Jean had gotten in to her head that I had a crush on Logan. Don’t really know what made her think about it. She must be even kinkier than I. For Christ sakes, the man is God knows how old! And my tastes don’t run to grumpy and hairy. Well, at least not under normal circumstances. Even more reasons to get my head checked up. Maybe I have a brain tumor, or something.

**Logan, your presence in the briefing room is needed**

Urgh. It always takes couple of minutes to recover from Xavier’s summons. It probably is too much to ask to lower his voice with a couple of notch. It’s not like I’m deaf, even if I’m not the most receiving person telepathically speaking.

As usual, Scott and the crew are already waiting, primped and prepped when I rush in. Getting in to leather is a bitch. I still don’t understand why I can’t go in my jeans. Easier to move and easier to take off afterwards. And get your mind out of the gutter. Have you ever tried to peel off blood, sweat and shit soaked leather while you’re so fucking tired that it hurts just to lift your pinkie? If not, keep your mouth shut.

“What is it this time?” And why the fuck is everybody staring at me… Oh. Zipper. Oops.
“Magneto has escaped from the prison. We have a reason to believe that he’s going to renew his efforts of the mutant supremacy,” Professor explains. Magneto? What the fuck am I doing here? There’s not much I can do about it. Without Scott majority of New Yorkers would be dead as a doornail, I would be a fucking pretzel and Marie… Marie would be dead.
“Were not expecting you to come along. But it looks like you didn’t manage to dispose Mystique and Sabretooth. Team is leaving to capture Magneto in five minutes. We’re going to stay back and hold the fort, just in case his friends decide to make an appearance,” Professor says. And fuck if he isn’t wearing leather, too. A cloak made of black leather and small X’s embroidered to sleeves and the hood of it. I have to bite my lip to stifle quite unmanly giggle that threatens to escape. I do not giggle. At least not in front of the most powerful telepath in the world. I’m not stupid, you know.

“I have alerted children. They’re in Danger Room. I disabled all the programs, so they’re quite safe.”
“Good. You should go in there, too.” Because telepathic or not, there’s not a lot he can do against Sabretooth. His mind is too much alike mine. Xavier’s able to control him brief periods of time, but it takes a lot out from him.
“No. I have already sat aside too many times while my children go to war. It’s time to stop hiding.” I hate it when they start this noble shit. Like it would do any good to the people he’s trying to protect if he’s getting gutted like a fish.
“You can do your magic from down there as well as in up here. You’re going. And that’s final.” Thank God I have the final say in these matters. Xavier looks a bit miffed, but takes the elevator.

I think I have never seen this place this empty and quiet. It’s like a fucking mausoleum. Scents are still floating around, but it’s so quiet I can hear my own heart beating. Slow, steady rhythm. Calm. Have to stay calm. Few times I have slipped in the battle. Not a good thing to happen. It took days to sort out my head afterwards.

Kitchen. Check. Classrooms. Check. Dorms. Check. Calm and quiet. All doors open. Easier to scan the place. Easier to spy on to certain little girly…

She was in the bed when Xavier called. Bedclothes are rumpled. There’s a pocketbook on the pillow. Never pegged her the type to read those. Box of chocolates on a small table next to bed. Every surface of the room covered with stuffed animals. It’s quite sad, actually. She’s fucking seventeen. Should be getting groped at the backseat of a car instead of staying home, cuddled up with a mountain of fake fur and cotton.

That’s a new one. Looks like hand-made. Small card attached to it. From Jubilee. What the crap is this supposed to be? A fucking beaver with claws? I will never understand that kid. Not if I lived thousand years.

Bathroom. For what the fuck do women need all this stuff? Five different deodorants, three brands of toothpaste. Okay, those I can understand. But it’s all the rest of the stuff that I can’t understand. Jar after jar different creams and lotions. Four different shampoos. Hmm… Only one bottle of bath gel. That freaking strawberry. I thought she had gotten rid of it already.

I wasn’t home last Christmas, but from what I heard afterwards, it had been quite scary episode. Screaming Marie sitting in a tub filled with strawberry-scented redness. Uh-huh. Better not go there. Don’t really have the urge to end up as one of those sick old pervs who get off by thinking little girls…

There’s one thing I’m going to do. Right now. Those fucking bunny-slippers. I’m going to get rid of them. She will fucking never ever get laid wearing those. Not that it’s somehow my business if she’ll get laid or not. But those slippers got to go. Now, where the fuck are those… Here, bunny, bunny, bunny… Got some carrots for you… One freaking big carrot…

**Logan? Team is back. Meet us in briefing room.**

I run in to Logan when we’re leaving the Danger Room. Scary hour of not knowing weather something’s going to happen or not behind. Good God he looks just edible in black leather. Bad girl, Marie. Stop ogling him. I hope I’m not drooling.
“You alright?” He asks, raking his gaze over me. Suddenly I feel naked. I have clothes on and Logan’s not a telepath, but his eyes… It feels like he’s stripping me bare. Layer after layer. And if he doesn’t stop soon, this is going to be awkward.
“I’m fine. You?” I manage to squeak.
“Fine. How’s your head?” He doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look angry, either. Just confused. Can’t blame him. I haven’t lied to him before.
“It’s… Uh… I really didn’t have a headache. But I rather not talk about it…” Better come clean. Logan nods and ruffles my hair.
“If you need to talk about it, you know where to find me.” And with that said he’s gone. Walking down the corridor, leather gleaming wetly under the fluorescent lights, enhancing his broad shoulders and narrow waist and I really didn’t just think of him like that! This is freaking me out! First thing I’ll do when I get to my room is to ditch that harlequin back to Jubes. This is getting scary.

Back in my room. Floor is kind of cold. Shit. I left my slippers back in DR. Have to go and get those. You’re not supposed to leave stuff lying around in there. Somebody might get hurt. I take the book with me. Jubes should still be in her room. Professor told us all to take the rest of the day off. I guess there are perks in these false alarms after all.

Nope. No Jubes. Guess she bailed off to the mall as soon as we got out from DR. Well; at least I got rid of that pesky book. Now to my other task. I hope Scott is still down there. He isn’t such a bitch as Ororo can be. Logan keeps nagging about how anal Scott is. He apparently hasn’t seen Storm at her worst.

Looks like I’m in luck. There’s red light blinking next to that fortified door. At least somebody is in there. All I have to do is to climb to the observation booth and ask that person to slip out my slippers, and I’m good to go. Crisis averted.

Or not. What have I done to deserve this? Tortured orphans or kicked old ladies around in my past life? Has to be something extremely bad. There really is no other explanation for my bad karma.

Big screen on the wall gives detailed close-up from the DR. Logan’s standing in a cage. Sabretooth is with him in there. From the looks of it they have been there quite a while. Floor is splattered with blood. With real blood. Bright red light next to the screen indicates that safety protocol is switched off. Sabretooth’s just a hologram, there’s no mark on him as he circles around warily. Logan’s completely another issue. He’s flesh and blood. Uniform shredded, fresh trails of blood dribbling down his sweat slicked skin. Suddenly Sabretooth lunges and tears deep, bleeding gauges across Logan’s torso. Logan hisses and topples over. Sabretooth knocks him back up with a knee to his face. Logan grimaces and spits out blood. Wounds are healing. There’s a telltale bulge behind the fly of leather pants he’s wearing. When Sabretooth tries to swipe him again, Logan blocks his attack and grasps his hand, pulling him flush against his heaving chest. For a moment it looks like they’re going to kiss. Logan snarls. His hand is suddenly against Sabretooth’s back, keeping the larger man in place. He’s practically humping against his thigh!

God. This is wrong. This is so wrong. I shouldn’t be in here. I should leave. Right now. I’m already wet and tingly from places I shouldn’t be after witnessing something so disgusting. But I can’t help it.

Logan’s head tilts backwards. His eyes are narrowed to tiny slits, and his hips are still gyrating, grinding against the hairy beast. For a moment I wonder what stops Sabretooth from tearing his throat out. Then I see it. Logan’s claws are firmly embedded to his back, preventing him from leaning forward. That doesn’t however stop Sabretooth from using his hands. One clawed paw lands to the small of Logan’s back, other tangles around his throat. I can’t see Logan’s left hand, it’s hidden between their bodies.

“Christ…” Logan’s breathy growl fills the silence in the booth. He’s panting, gasping for air. My hand has taken the life of it’s own. Just a little more. I’m so ready and wet… This is so fucking wrong and I’m quite sure that I can never look him in the eyes anymore, but I’ll go nuts if I don’t take care of this right now… Oh…

Logan jerks his head forward, and for a second his face fills the screen. Half hooded eyes dark from lust, cheeks reddened from the lack of oxygen. Lips curled to a pained grimace. Almost as if he was looking straight at me, sprawled on the floor, my hand thrust between my bent legs, and we are both coming. Sharp intake of breath and hiss from the speakers sends me over the edge when Logan convulses and tears Sabretooth apart, monster’s torso dropping to the floor and his feet landing next to it with heavy thud.

I have this distinct feeling of being watched, and I know I have to end this. Now. This isn’t proper. Not even the close universe with proper. But I can’t help it. It hardly is my fault that I’m wired all wrong. Room is getting dim around me, and I’m so fucking hard it hurts. I should stop, but my body has other ideas. Christ… I can’t breathe, and my kidneys are shot, every move I make grinds Sabretooth’s claws deeper in to my back and I’m going to pee blood for fucking days for this but I don’t fucking care! Just a little bit more…

Oh, shit… Shower, cigar, bed. Here I come. Preferably in that order. I think I blew my brain out. Sure felt like it. Just have to get rid of my clothes first. Xavier’s going to have a fit. This is the fifth uniform in this month only. I have to wonder why he even bothers anymore. Jeans are not as expensive as leather.

Okay. Here we go. I can do this. Small steps. Wall. Good thing we have walls down here. Have to mop off the blood after I have showered. They don’t appreciate bloody handprints that much. Oh, shit… It’s up again. Well, be my guest. Stand as long as you like. I’m going to sleep. If I can crawl to my room, that is. But have to take that shower first. Can’t go upstairs in this condition. Hmm? What the fuck is that? It’s pink and fluffy… Those fucking slippers. This may sound paranoid, but are those fucking things following me around? Well, let them. Fucking perverts. And where the fuck is that door? Okay… I’m going to sit for a while. Just to catch my bearings. Just for… A while… Ahhh… This floor is surprisingly comfortable…

No. Can’t go falling asleep in here. Scott would fucking provoke my access code if he found me here sleeping. Better just suck it up.
“End scenario…”
“Invalid command.” Fucking piece of shit. **cough**
“End scenario!”
“Scenario, code Wolverine terminated.” Have to wonder what dimwit programmed voice recognition in here. Anything can happen. Everybody should have a way to end scenario, at any given circumstances. Fucking sore throat is enough for that machine to get confused. Have to talk about it with Scott tomorrow. But now that shower…

Floor is still wet. Somebody was here just few minutes ago. Urgh. I hate it. I don’t usually use this place, too many scents floating around, and it feels like I can’t get clean. Don’t really want to smell Scott, Ororo or Jean at the soles of my feet for the rest of the day. That’s just plain gross. Wonder who it was. Scent is definitely familiar. But something’s off. Shit. Might be Ororo’s new perfume. That stuff is strong enough to gag a maggot. Loaded with pheromones.

I fucking know that scent. Have to wash off the blood and clear my sinuses, maybe I’ll figure it out after. This is so good. All the grime and dirt just falling off… Have to go and get those slippers away from DR. Give them back to Marie. She’s probably looking for them already. Now there’s a kid with a serious case of cold feet. They’re like fucking icicles. She should go out with Bobby. They would fit together. Ice cubes. Or not. She’s not an ice cube. Not my little Marie. But she should definitely hook up with somebody. If not for else, at least to learn how to relax around other people. When ever she’s around her friends, she’s so tense it’s not even funny. Face pale, hands twisting and tangling her sleeves constantly, eyes darting back and forth. She’s not insecure, far from it. She’s just being careful. If she keeps going on like that, she’ll end up more paranoid than I am. Speaking of which… That scent… What the fuck has she been doing in here? No wonder I couldn’t place that scent! It’s Marie. Marie in heat. My little kitten all hot and bothered. Well, I’ll be damned…

In retrospect it probably wasn’t such a good idea to take a shower in downstairs. One could say it was the most fucked up thing to do, right after masturbating in the control booth while Logan got himself ripped to shreds in DR. If he didn’t already know earlier about my little fixation, he definitely knows now.

I was kneeling in front of my bed, trying to reach for my old slippers, because I really didn’t have the guts to go to Logan and ask my new ones back, not after what had happened. There was a knock on the door.
“It’s open!” I shouted. I assumed it was Jubes, coming to ask what I thought about the book I had borrowed, so I didn’t even turn to look when door opened.
“Come on!” I was huffing and wiggling my ass for the good measure, trying to squeeze myself to that narrow space between floor and the bed frame, when suddenly a hand landed to the small of my back. Large, hot, strong and very male hand. I froze.
“Looking for these?” Logan asked, his body so close to mine that I could feel the heat radiating from him. I heard a soft thud, and when I dared to turn my head I saw my pink bunny-flippers staring at me.

“Yeah…” Suddenly my mouth was as dry as Sahara.
“I should give you the lecture of how you’re not supposed to leave your stuff lying around…” Logan murmured. That voice went straight through me, making me tremble under his touch.
“But I think you’re big enough girl to take the hint without lectures. Am I right?” I wasn’t able to speak, so I nodded instead.
“Good. When you’re ready to let go of those slippers, you know where to find me…” He whispered, and his hand slid lower, giving my buttocks a gentle squeeze before he stood up and walked out. Thank God he had enough common sense to close the door after him. I wasn’t able to move. I could barely breathe.

When Jubes came in much earlier I was still laying in front of my bed, trying to comprehend what had happened. She was parading around, asking my opinions of this and that piece of clothing she had bought, and all I could think about was Logan. He knew. He fucking knew. I was dribbling and drooling after him like a bitch in heat, and he knew. Yet he had given me a way out. I grasped those slippers and shoved my feet in. From this day on I would be a good little girl. I wouldn’t dream about Logan anymore. I wouldn’t poke my nose to where it didn’t belong. And I would make sure I had these slippers on for 24-7.



I really am a bastard. Shouldn’t have scared her like that. But hey, I had to do something, right? I’m no pansy like Scott. I don’t do flowers and pretty little cards. She should know that. I’m here for her, if I’m the one she wants. And I’m here for her for the other stuff, too. I wouldn’t mind bedding her, but it’s her decision. It’s her life. She can be my little girl, or she can become my woman.

I know several people who will have several powerful arguments if she comes to my bed.

She’s too young. Okay… Let’s see. She’s seventeen. Legally they have nothing to say. Hell, there are states where she would have been legal fucking three years ago.

She’s too fragile. That one they will get backwards, that’s for sure. Because between the two of us, I’m the broken, incomplete one.

I’m a dirty old bastard seducing young girls. Nope. Haven’t been sniffing around her friends lately. And never will. They give me the creeps.

I could be her father. Hell, I could very well be her great grandfather, but I know for a fact we’re not related.

I’m no good for her. For that I have to agree. But she’s good for me. I have never claimed to be selfless.

She doesn’t know what she wants. And how the fuck is she supposed to find out what she wants if they don’t let her try out new things? This is the same fucking problem I come up with everything I try to propose, with every fucking student in here. They really don’t know what they want; so better not do anything too radical, God forbid if they learned something from new experiences!

And last, but not least, she’s not ready. Really? She’s old enough to bleed. Old enough to wet her pants when she’s looking at me. Old enough to train to be an X-man. In my book that qualifies her old enough to my bed. Again assuming that’s what she wants.

Yeah. I think I got it covered. In the mean time, I could go to sleep. But not before I have had my cigar. I already messed up my routine by going to her. Heh. For a guy who calls Scott stuck-up and anal I sure can be alike him.

This isn’t happening. Last night at this time I was debating weather to have some more ice cream or go to sleep. Now I’m trying to decide the best possible way to tell off Logan from my trail.

I know my actions haven’t been very girlish during last twenty-four hours, but things he does… I realized something when he came to my room to drop off those slippers. He’s completely out of my league.

I’m not ready to give up light, not even for him. He’s so far gone in to darkness that I don’t have the guts to follow. I might be ready to tag along to that grey area in between, but I’m not willing to venture deeper in to shadows. And I have to find a way to tell it to him before it’s too late.

I’m sure if this were some trashy novel, I would find right words. I wouldn’t have to struggle. All I would have to do was to walk up to him. I wouldn’t even have to say anything, because he would understand the look in my eyes. Would see behind this stupid infatuation that I’m really just a girl. A girl with no business with the things he does. He would see it. He would just nod and give me a hug. We would sit down, maybe have some coffee or ice cream, and everything would return to normal. I would be just Marie. He would be just Logan. But it doesn’t work that way.

Twice I have witnessed his twisted desire. Once I have succumbed under it myself. It was frighteningly easy. And I felt frighteningly dirty afterwards. Soiled. Whereas Logan managed to look relaxed and normal, I was shivering under icy cold water, wishing I had something coarse enough to rub myself clean.

I don’t know if it’s my Christian upbringing, some stray strands of morals I have gathered along my life, or my naivety, but there’s a part inside of me that’s whispering to me even now. Telling me that I’m a horrible slut. Dirty, bad girl. Damaged goods. Too nosy for my own good. Unworthy.

Rational part of me knows it isn’t true. What happened doesn’t make me a bad person. But there’s a tiny part that believes every word. Listens to those whispers and keeps nodding.

Shit. I’m not going to get any sleep. Not as long as this thing between us is unsettled. Maybe I should just leap and hope for the best. It’s Logan we’re speaking. It’s not like he will rape me if I go and speak to him. Right?

But first I need something to calm my nerves. And I know just the thing that will do the trick. Jubes told me she got me a carton of Swiss Almond. It’s waiting for me in the freezer. Whole unopened carton.

She wasn’t kidding. She got me a maxi-pack. Not those sissy half-liter ones. Two liters of pure sin. Kitchen counter. Check. Spoon. Check. Dim lights. Check. Open door to patio. Check. What the hell? Oh, fuck! Logan. He’s out there. Why not just strike me with a lightning and end this properly while you’re at it, big guy? I know I haven’t been paying much attention to You since I left home, but if this is Your way of punishment, I’ll choose the Devil over You any given day…

Oh, it looks like he hasn’t noticed me yet. Good. I can just slip this back to freezer and sneak out before…
“Don’t you ever sleep?” Eep! Busted.
“Yeah. I do. I was going to… I just came to get some ice cream before I went to bed because Jubes brought me some Swiss Almond and it’s just too good to pass and…”
“If you don’t start breathing soon, you’ll pass out, kid,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe, hands crossed over his chest, cigar dangling from his fingers. Everything in him, that posture, his words, voice and scent… It’s all Logan. Just Logan. It makes me want to go to him and cuddle up against his chest. I actually take a step towards him before the fact that he’s not just Logan stops me. I’m scared. And I know he can smell it. Smell my fear.

He tilts his head and there comes the raised eyebrow.
“Well?” He grunts.
“What?”
“Weren’t you going to have some ice cream?”
“I think I’ll pass. There’s too much sugar. I won’t be able to sleep if I eat it now.” Logan shrugs his shoulders.
“Suit yourself…” He swivels around and disappears back in to the darkness of the night. And now I really need that ice cream.

My hands are trembling and it’s hard to get the carton open. I nearly manage to knock off the dessert bowl from the counter when I scoop some sticky chocolate goop in to it. When I try to rescue that bowl, I accidentally knock the carton down from the counter and it lands to the floor with wet thud, sounding much like Sabretooth, only quieter.
“Fuck!” I grab the bowl and throw it across the room. It explodes against the kitchen wall, raining sharp shards of glass everywhere.

“What the hell was that for?” Logan asks, walking in and eyeing the mess confused. There’s something warm dribbling down my cheek, running along my jaw line.
“Shit. We have to go and get Jean…” He mutters, crosses the floor with few strides and scoops me to his arms and I start screaming.

He’s touching me. He has his arms around me, and I can smell blood, there’s blood, and Logan’s here, holding me.

“I have my slippers on! You can’t touch me! You cannot touch me! Let me go! See? I have my slippers…” What the fuck is her problem? Is she trying to wake up the whole freaking mansion? Yeah. She has slippers on. Well, at least one of them. Other went sailing across the kitchen when she tried to kick me when I took her on my lap.
“Shut up. People are trying to sleep. We need only Jean, not the whole fucking team.”
“Let me go! I don’t want this! I have my slippers on!” Shit. I can hear voices coming from the second floor. This will look real good. I wonder if Scott lets me even open my mouth before he blasts my hairy ass to next week… Better get Marie out of the way before that.
“Wait here.” I lower her to a couch in the rec room and go to greet the rescue party.

Thank God it’s just Professor and Jean.
“May I ask what is going on?” Professor. Always so fucking polite. Even in the middle of the night.
“It’s nothing. Rogue had a little accident. She could use some stitching up, but it’s nothing serious.” And that’s the fucking truth. Why are they looking at me like that?

“I was taking her to the med lab, but I guess she was still little freaked out…”
“Yes. I’m sure that was the case. If you two excuse me, I’m sure you’re quite capable taking care of this one by yourselves…” Professor says. Turns his wheelchair around and leaves when Jean walks down the stairs.

“You should go to bed, too,” she says, walking past me, in to the rec room.
“No. I want to know if the kid’s going to be alright.” I don’t know what Jean is picking up from me, or if I’m projecting at all, but she sure does act weird. Narrows her eyes and almost bares her teeth. Makes me want to snarl and puff my chest, but I’ll let it slide. She already has so high opinion of me, no reason to give her any more ammo.
“She’ll be perfectly alright. Go to bed, Logan.”
“Fine.” I can always wait in the kitchen. Jean won’t probably keep her in the med lab. Marie hates that place.
“Jean, wait.” Marie’s already calmed down. She’s leaning in to Jean. I crouch in front of her and slip ice cream -stained bunny-slipper to her bare foot. Give it a little nudge. Better take good care of her Bugs… Or I’m coming after you.

Cleaning up the kitchen takes ten minutes. Fastest ten minutes of my life. Next thirty are probably the longest. I have heard people say how one minute can feel like a whole hour. I have always thought that’s a load of bullshit. Won’t think that way anymore. Every fucking minute feels like a fucking century. I have to see her. I have to know what made her flip out like that. Finally she skirts past kitchen door, towards the stairs. I try to go after her, but Jean stops me at the door and pushes me back in to kitchen. This time I snarl. An honest threat, teeth bared. Jean slaps me. Hard.
“Get a grip, Wolverine!” And like a whipped puppy I slink back. I’m sure if I had a tail it would be tucked so tightly between my legs you would need a crowbar to yank it out. What the fuck is going on?

“I… Professor and I… We discussed about this with the team. We thought it would be better if you left.” She’s walking past me. Pouring water to the coffee maker.
“Why?” I sit to the counter.
“You’re too unpredictable.”
“You’re kicking me to the curb without a warning, and I’m the unpredictable one? That’s rich…” This is probably a perfect moment to light up a cigar. Jean glares at me, but doesn’t tell me to put it out. Interesting.
“We’re not kicking you to the curb. And you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself,” she snaps back instead.
“Xavier offers a term of notice?”
“Logan…”
“This really isn’t a team decision.”
“No. It isn’t,” Jean admits reluctantly.
“This has got nothing to do with my performance during missions or in classes.” Jean doesn’t look at me.
“Why?”

Jean huffs and turns to look at me.
“Can you honestly say you don’t know what this is all about?” She asks.
“Since when have I lied to you? Or any of these people for that matter…” And now Jean has the decency to look apologetic. She knows the answer to my question. Not once have I lied. She pours herself some coffee and walks to patio. I would like to go and see if Marie is okay, but I have to figure this out before that. I follow Jean. She’s sitting on a wicker chair. Marie’s chair. I sit on the railing, rather than to my chair.

“She’s scared of you. She doesn’t know what to think anymore. I picked up some quite disturbing images from her mind.” Jean says, sipping her coffee. She’s avoiding me with her gaze again.
“Scared of me? Okay, maybe I was out of line earlier when she left her slippers to the DR, but she knows me. She knows I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. Though that one you could have handled better. I’m talking about bathtub, DR with Sabretooth and God knows what else.” Now I really need something more than just a cigar.
“She knows?”
“She saw you last night when you were jerking off. She saw you in Danger Room with Sabretooth. She’s confused. She doesn’t know what to think. She doesn’t know what you want from her.”
“And you’re kicking me out before I have the chance to explain it to her?”
“How would you explain it? Do you know the answer yourself?”
“Yeah. I do.” And I’m not going to elaborate more. That’s something between Marie and me.
“I’ll give you until the end of the week. If this thing isn’t settled before that, you’re leaving.” Okay. I can live with that. I offer my hand to Jean. She grabs it.
“We have a deal.”

“You won’t even need stitches. It’s just a scratch. I’ll clean it up and pop a butterfly on it…” Jean is speaking with calm and comforting voice. She dabs my cheek with a damp wad of cotton. It stings a bit, but I don’t think that’s the reason behind my tears. I have a vague feeling that I was crying even before we got in here.
“There. Better?” I crinkle my face. Band-aid feels tight and sticky on my cheek.
“You want to talk about it?” Jean asks. I’m not sure if I can. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. How to explain what I have done? I feel so tired and dirty.
“Rogue?” For a second I’m about to ask her to call me Marie. Logan’s the only one in here who knows my real name, and I have a feeling that Jean could easily become the second. But no. That’s something that belongs to Logan and me only. Maybe the only thing after this.
“Could you… You know, take a look?” I mimic her stance when she reads mind, hands on both sides of her head. Jean smiles softly.

“I would rather hear it from yourself. Mind reading is so personal. I’m not very skilled at it, and many times I see much more than the other person feels comfortable to share with me.” Yes. I could very easily tell her my name.
“Please. I don’t know how to… What to say. It’s so dirty…” I’m practically pleading Jean to take a peek. Wasn’t it just this morning when I faked a headache to dodge Professor’s possible attempt to read my mind in the middle of physics class? It sure has been a long day.
“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Jean asks, taking my hands between her gloved palms. I can only nod. There’s a lump size of a fucking mountain in my throat. Speaking would be impossible.
“Okay. I need you to relax. Concentrate to the matter that’s bothering you…” Jean lets go my hands and raises her palms to my temples. Closes her eyes.

I try not to flinch when I push images of Logan to the front in my mind. With my feelings it’s harder. Jean was right. It’s too personal. But I’m not backing out. Not now. Somebody has to know. I will go nuts if I try to deal with this alone.

Jean opens her eyes and stares at me mutely.
“I see…” For a moment I’m afraid. Afraid that she’s going to tell me that the voice inside my head is indeed right. That I really am a dirty slut. Then she smiles and smoothes back a strand of hair that’s fallen to my forehead. Just a small smile, but it tells me everything is okay.
“This has been an eventful day for you. And long. You’ll probably feel better in the morning, after you have slept. Go back to bed. I’ll speak to him.” Where the fuck is my mom when I need one? This woman in front of me, still a stranger on some level, is more of a mother to me right now than my real mom ever was.
“Is… Is it okay if I hug you?” I ask. Because right now I would really like to. Jean smiles again and spreads her arms.
“Of course. Of course it’s okay. You don’t have to ask…” She holds me and keeps rocking back and forth while I cry against her shoulder. I would much rather have Logan in her place, my Logan. But my Logan is gone. I’ll take whatever I can.

When I’m finally able to untangle from her arms and wipe my face almost half an hour has passed. There’s a giant wet blotch on the shoulder of Jean’s lab coat, and she looks utterly tired.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be so clingy. It’s just…”
“Don’t worry. Now, let’s get you back to bed.”

I can hear Logan moving around in the kitchen when I run towards the stairs. One serious conversation per night is my quota. I don’t think I can muster enough strength to deal with him yet. He’ll have to wait until morning. Logan’s trying to come after me, but I can hear Jean stopping him. God bless that woman. I can only hope she isn’t too hard on Logan. I’m quite sure there are bits and pieces in my memories that would give her a good reason to have him arrested. I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. He hasn’t done a thing to deserve that.

I sat with Jean for a moment. She had her coffee and I had my cigar to finish before going inside. We had a conversation. Quite absurd one if you ask from me. Well, what can you expect from a shrink and a possible nutcase…

“Why do you do it?”
“Do what?” Scared Marie? Chose her in the first place?
“Hurt yourself.”
“Did it look like it hurt?” I asked, and Jean actually blushed.
“I don’t do it because it hurts. Okay, it does hurt, but it’s different. It feels good to me. I can control that pain. I decide when, where and how I’m hurt.” Jean looked at me over the brim of the cup she was holding, thoughtful frown on her face.
“That actually makes sense. In a scary and sad way it makes perfect sense.”
“I don’t need your fucking pity,” I spat. Look in her face rubbed me the wrong way.

“I’m not at ease with your involvement with Rogue. Legally I have nothing to say in that matter, but as a friend I would like to ask you not to make her part of it. Not to expose her any more to your ‘therapy sessions’,” Jean said standing up.
“Wasn’t planning to. She wasn’t supposed to know about it at all. That shit is not for her. I may be a bastard, but I’m not insane, Jean.” I crushed the cigar to the ashtray. Time to go and see Marie. See if I could somehow clear up the mess I had made.

Her door is locked. I can hear she’s still awake, breathing fast and erratic. She’s afraid. Afraid of me.
“Marie, could you… Shit. Will you talk with me if I call you?” Maybe that could work. Every student has a phone in their room. I can hear small squeak. Might be yes. Might be no. Well, only one way to find out.

My hand is actually trembling when I dial her number. I can hear it ringing three doors down the hall. It rings. One. Two. Three. She’s not going to answer. Four. Five. Shit. Six. Answer, goddamned! Seven. Eight. Please, answer. Nine. Once more, and if you’re not answering, I’ll come down there and break down your door. We have to talk! Ten. Okay. One more. I’ll give you that. And there it was. Eleven. Fuck!

I can’t go to her like this. I’m a fucking mess. I have to calm down. Stop trembling and cussing. I have a fucking week to take care of this. Plenty of time. There’s time. Maybe it’s better to leave this for tomorrow. I should get some sleep. Classes start at eight. Have to get myself under wraps before that. Can’t go teaching kids in this condition. Luckily we don’t have combat tomorrow. I would probably slaughter half of the class by accident.

I can’t sleep when I’m this wound up. Okay, technically I can sleep under any circumstances, but if I let myself fall asleep now, I will wake up screaming my lungs out. Can’t even remember what I am dreaming about, but can’t be very pleasant, seeing how I end up tossing my cookies afterwards. Every fucking time. Shit. Would be a perfect night to get smashed. Just sit down and drink. Drink until I can’t drink anymore. Then drink some more.

Getting drunk is a bit tricky. Have to override that pesky healing factor. Oh, I can do it. Just takes some time. And shitload of booze. But given enough time I can get drunk. I wonder… Shit. I have to get some sleep. Now, where did I put it?

Oh, God. What am I doing? I should have just answered the phone. I thought I would have the courage to go and see him. Talk to him face to face, like two responsible and sensible adults. I’m standing in front of his door. Slippers. Check. Old, green cloak I had on when I first saw him. Check. As embarrassing as it is, a teddy bear. Check. Adult, my ass.

I can hear him moving around. It sounds a bit like he’s looking for something. Drawers and closets opening. Stuff moving around. I raise my hand to knock on the door. Last second hesitation strikes and my knuckles only skim over the wooden surface lightly. I don’t think he heard it. But I can’t just leave without seeing him. And I’m quite sure that this time his door is locked. But there’s a keyhole. Maybe I could take a quick peek. I just need to see him. I miss him. I’m scared out of my wits, but it actually isn’t Logan that I’m scared. Just a quick peek…

Room is small, and I can see Logan, sitting on his bed. He has a small plastic box on his lap. Oh, he’s on the phone.
“Sorry if I woke you.” Who is he calling at this hour?
“No, I’m… Well, I’m not okay. Just called to tell you that I’m taking a shot.” A shot? Logan is fiddling with the lid of the box.
“No, I can do it by myself. But could you do me a favor? Could you find out if there’s some pills… Yeah. I fucking hate needles.” Does he ever. I didn’t have issues before, but after he touched me at the Statue Of Liberty the mere sight of a needle gives me the creeps.
“Thanks, Jean. Good night.”

I watch when he opens the box. Takes out a small glass vial and a syringe. This has been a rough night for him, too. Usually it’s Jean who does that, after he has had one of his nightmares. I don’t even know what is in that syringe. Must be pretty strong stuff when it’s able to put Logan under.

He fills the syringe and stares at it. Small shiver runs over him and he’s reaching the phone. Then he narrows his eyes.
“Fucking pansy. You can do it…” He whispers and rolls up his sleeve. He puts the syringe on the table and wraps a tourniquet around his bicep. I have a sudden urge to rush in and stop him. To tell him it’s okay. I grab the doorknob, but I’m already too late. And door is locked. Needle slides in and he shivers again. Breath we both have been holding escapes from his lips with a hiss and he closes his eyes, pushing the liquid from the syringe in to him.

As soon as the syringe is empty he throws it away, disgusted grimace plastered to his face, and tears off the tourniquet. Syringe shatters against the windowsill and he slumps forward, palms covering his face. And now I really have to go to him. This is my fault. My fucking fault. He shouldn’t suffer because of my stupidity.
“Logan? Let me in,” I whisper. I know he can hear me, and I don’t want to wake his neighbors.
“Marie?” His footsteps approach the door and I steel myself. I can do this. I can do this. Lock is rattling, then door opens.

“Yeah?” Logan’s leaning forward, his hands braced to both sides of the doorframe.
“Well, speak up. Don’t have all night…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. Wrinkles his brow and tries to focus his gaze to my face.
“I… Uh…”
“Kid, we really have to talk. We have to do it later. I’m kind of tired now…” It’s taking all his strength just to stay upright. His head droops lower. Suddenly he chuckles. He’s looking at my slippers.
“Fucking bunnies. They’re weird.” And I can’t help it. I take a step closer and wrap my arms around him. Bury my face to his chest. There might be moments I’m afraid of him. Afraid of things he does. Afraid of myself. Right now he’s just Logan, and I’m just Marie. He sways a bit before he finds his balance again. One strong hand comes around me and his face lands on top of my head.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he mumbles, his warm breath seeping through my hair. He’s leaning already more on me than the doorframe. I don’t think I can carry his whole weight.

“Logan? You’re kind of heavy…”
“Yeah…” He’s straightening his stance but doesn’t let go of me. I have to tilt my head backwards to see his face. There’s a dull, glassy look in his eyes.
“Shit… I really have to go to bed. You couldn’t just answer to that fucking phone?” He hisses and stumbles backwards, taking me with him. Luckily we land on the bed.
“Good night, kid…” Logan mumbles, closing his eyes and pushing me off. I land on the floor. I can hear him cursing silently.
“You alright?” He manages a weak whisper.
“Yeah.” I hit my tailbone and it hurts like a bitch, but he doesn’t have to know that. I stand up slowly, rubbing my ass. Logan’s already fast asleep, clutching my teddy against his chest. There are moments, and there are Kodak-moments. I try to jostle him to a more comfortable position. He hates sleeping on his back, so I push him on his side. He sighs and squints his eyes half open.
“Go to bed, Marie… You have English lit at eight…”

That do I have. Jean’s class. And she’s currently standing at the doorstep, observing us with unreadable look on her face.
“Logan?” She’s walking closer and Logan is trying to get up.
“You know I don’t… Want people in here…” He’s slurring. His eyes are now open. Pupils like pinpricks. He’s afraid.
“It’s okay. I just came to get Rogue. I noticed she came in.”
“Kid’s okay… She’s going to bed… Get the fuck out of here, Jeannie… Please…” And I can’t just stand and look anymore. I move between them.
“I’ll be alright. Go back to sleep -eeep!” Logan hauls me to the bed, hiding his face against my back. He’s falling back to sleep but his hand around my waist grips me like a vice.

“Uhh…” Jean steps closer to help me, and low rumble reverberates from Logan’s chest.
“Maybe he’ll let go if you go out?” Because as cute and cuddly as Logan was with my teddy, this doesn’t feel cute and cuddly anymore. This is starting to freak me out. Jean backs away from the room slowly. With every retreating step Logan’s hold around me loosens, and finally I’m able to squirm loose and follow Jean to the corridor. We close the door silently. Jean tiptoes to her and Scott’s room. I sneak in to mine. It’s four o’clock. In three hours I have to get up, have some breakfast and act all chirpy and refreshed. Crap.

I might be able to laugh at this in the future. Very distant future. Last night there were not one, but two very fuckable females in my room. With whom I ended up sharing the bed? Winnie The Fucking Pooh. I remember grabbing Marie, then everything kind of blacks out. She must have gotten out okay, because I saw her at breakfast and she was smiling. Didn’t even flinch when I walked past her.

It’s nine o’clock, first class over without casualties, and I have a world-class headache going on. That’s the downside of Jean’s mixture. Takes ages to clear off from my system.

**Logan, Scott’s taking over your next class. I need to see you in my office immediately.**

Ohh… Jesus Fucking Christ… Have to ask from Xavier if he has ever had a hangover…

“You wanted to see me?” Xavier looks kind of pissed. Wonder what crawled up in his ass.
“Yes. Have a seat,” he says. Gladly. Seven dwarves are currently doing their best to dig up the mother vein from my brain. I swear if they start to sing, I’ll ask Xavier to put me out from my misery.
“It has come to my knowledge that you’re courting one of our students.” Courting? Is that what they call it nowadays?
“And?”
“Surely you understand that I can’t just sit back and let it happen. These children are under my protection, and it is my duty to look after their well being.”
“Surely you understand that her well being is my first priority?” Yeah. I can use that tone, too. Xavier doesn’t look impressed. If possible, just more pissed off.
“Logan. Now is not a good time for this kind of childish behavior. You’re a responsible adult. A teacher. I expect you to act like one. Starting right now. You will leave Rogue alone. You will stop using Danger Room for personal purposes. You will…”
“I will not. Okay, what happened at the DR, it wasn’t planned. I got carried away. Won’t happen again. But I will not leave Rogue alone. I once made her a promise. I won’t back out from it. I’m no fucking traitor.”
“Logan…”
“Fuck. Look in to my head, Chuck. I have already given myself to her hands. Any way she wants me, she’ll have me. Father, brother, friend, lover… I… Wha… Ah…”

”For a skilled telepath you really suck.” Lame. Xavier doesn’t seem to care. He’s rifling through the information he just pulled out from my head. I have already forgotten my earlier headache. It actually was peanuts compared to mental rape Xavier put me through. Right now I feel like cutting up the old geezer, but that would probably be a bad idea. Better just sit and wait for judgment.

“I will have to look in to this closer. In the mean time, you will stay away from Rogue. Is that understood?” How somebody manages to look completely baffled and determined at the same time? I have to ask Xavier to teach me that facial expression sometime.
“What about Jean?” And our little deal. If I know Xavier, he went through the whole fucking ordeal, and knows about it.
“I’ll talk to her. I do not wish to expel you. You’re valuable asset to the team.”

Valuable asset. Valuable asset? Fucking Blackbird is a valuable asset. The Danger Room is a valuable asset. Those freaking leather suits are valuable assets. It’s good to know where I stand. He doesn’t wish to expel me, but he sure as hell doesn’t seem to appreciate me much. I’m just one of his toys. A pawn to play with. Makes me wonder how he treats other people living under his ‘protection’. Makes me want to take Marie and go. Leave this place for good. I could do it. I probably should do it. But I’ll wait for Xavier’s decision first. As I said, I’m no fucking traitor…

I saw Logan at the breakfast. He looked a little tired, but none the worse to wear. He actually smiled at me, a genuine Logan smile. Not the smirk he carries around like a shield. Made me feel a little better. I had been quite nervous, thinking about our upcoming discussion. I mean, what there was to discuss? Apart from the fact that I was too curious pervert and should keep my nose out of Logan’s business. Well, he apologized for scaring me. And even that was weird. It should have been me apologizing from him, not the other way around. As I see it, he didn’t do a thing. My own curiosity and childish behavior brought this upon me.

I was looking for him at the dinner. I was going to ask him if we could talk after my last class. Wasn’t feeling like leaving that conversation later. No thanks. I would very much like to have at least one full night of sleep at this week, thank you. He wasn’t there. I asked from Scott if he had seen Logan. He said he saw him last time at nine in the morning when he had gone and taken over his class, because Professor had wanted to talk with him about something. That didn’t sound good. Talking with Professor usually meant trouble. When it was Logan talking with him, it usually meant only one thing. Professor had found something about his past, and Logan would leave this place for as long as it took him to check it. There had been quite a few of these trips already. Some of them had taken only few days. But there had been longer ones. And I don’t think I can take it if he disappears for few weeks before we have a chance to talk and clear this mess between us.

So, as soon as Ororo excused us from our last class, I sprinted to my room to drop off my books and change my clothes. This called for drastic measures. It was time to make things clear between us.

And here I am now, sitting on my bed. Dressed to my bra and panties. I don’t have a clue what I want from him.

Do I love Logan? Duh. That one is quite obvious. How can I not love him? He’s the first and only one who has touched me after my mutation kicked in without fear. He’s the one who has stood by my side constantly, through every big and small ordeal. Starting from the Statue Of Liberty, ending to last night. He’s one of my teachers, but first and foremost he’s my friend.

How do I love him? Now, that’s the tricky part. The part that makes it hard to decide how to dress and act around him. Yeah, I should just be myself. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could solve things like that? But that’s the very thing that led me to this mess in the beginning. I was being the nosy, insecure brat, trying to act as an adult.

Am I willing, or ready to love him as he seemed to hope I would? As a woman instead of a friend? I certainly felt something both times I witnessed him masturbating, but was it love? Or lust? Or just plain fear and curiosity?

I’d have to say the first time was certainly pure curiosity. I had been eavesdropping before, but from behind closed door. And that was for purely selfish purposes, to gather material for my own fantasies. To make them more real. I could add auditory track to my dream lover when I closed my eyes. All I had to do was to recall the small incoherent murmurs and gasps coming from Logan’s room.

The second time? I could hardly blame curiosity on that one. I could have left when I saw Logan approaching the Sabretooth. I could have left, closed the door behind me, and none of this would have happened. Yet I chose to stay, watch and pleasure myself. Was it the blood and violence? Or was it Logan that made me stay and enjoy? Was it the sight of him squirming in that hazy ground between pleasure and pain, or was it the look in his eyes and his hoarse voice that made me lie down and spread my legs?

There really is only one way to solve this, and I should quit stalling and go find him.

First stop. Logan’s room. Door is locked, but that doesn’t matter. He’s not in there. I don’t even have to knock. There’s this empty feeling… Sometimes I just know if he’s not home. I don’t know why, or how, but it’s like there’s something missing. And there’s definitely one Logan missing from that room. Maybe I should go and ask Professor to find him for me.

“What can I do for you today, Rogue?” Professor looks kind of pre-occupied, but he’s smiling and urging me to sit. I take the chair in front of his desk.
“I was looking for Logan. I heard you spoke with him earlier today. Did he say if he was leaving?”
“Leaving? No, I don’t think… He’s up on the roof.” Professor tells me after a brief pause.
“Rogue? Wait. Sit with me for a while. I would like to discuss with you about something,” he says when I stand up. Grr. He’s a telepath, for Christ’s sake! He should be able to sense that I’m not in the mood to talk with anybody but Logan at the moment.
“Please?” But what can I do?

“I have noticed that you and Logan have become quite close with each other.”
“Hmm? We’re friends. Something wrong with that?” Because judging from the tone of Professor’s voice there’s something seriously wrong.
“Friends? Of course. Of course… Nothing wrong with that…” Professor mumbles, staring at me.
“Why does that sound like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” I ask. Professor clears his throat.
“Because there is. I apologize my crudeness, but it has come to my knowledge that situation has developed to something else than a friendship. I know what has happened. And I can sense your discomfort over the matter. I must say that I’m not at ease with Logan’s actions, and I want you to know that we will be there for you. We will look after you.”
“Uh… Okay?” And what the crap is he talking about? I don’t have the slightest of clue.
“I know that Logan has tried to seduce you. You’re still young, Rogue. I do not wish you to get hurt because of his selfish actions.”
“Thank you… I guess. Can I go now?” Because now I really need to talk with Logan.
“Go ahead. And remember. We’ll be here for you.”

Professor was right. I’m standing at the doorstep. I can sense Logan on the other side of that door. Well, that’s bullshit. I can smell his cigar. He’s out there somewhere. I open the door and step on to the roof carefully. Thank God I put on sneakers instead of those slippers. Have to watch my steps anyway. I don’t want to end up as a red patch on the driveway. Just few steps and I will be on more secure ground and… You got to be fucking kidding me!

He lies on the roof, under the sun. There’s a cigar. It’s smoking on an ashtray few meters away from him. He looks like he’s having a good time. And now comes the fucking kidding me –part.

His shirt is open. His jeans are somewhere around his ankles, and I have a perfect view over his muscled body. Lazy grind of his hips, thin sheen of perspiration making his tanned skin glisten in the sun. Head tilted backwards, eyes closed. My name falling from parted lips. Invitation? Does he even know that I’m here?

I take a step closer. He opens his eyes.
“Don’t stop…” Please, don’t. Because I have to know.
“Come here,” he gasps. I walk to him and kneel next to him on the roof. Scent of his arousal surrounds me. He doesn’t stop. Instead he takes my gloved hand, eyes locked to mine. There’s a question in that gaze. He doesn’t know either what to do. What to make of us. I let him guide my gloved hand to his abdomen. Even through my glove his skin feels scorching hot. He’s burning up.
“Slippers on, or off?”

I close my eyes and inhale his scent deeply. I have to be sure. Because after this moment everything will be different. I let my hand trail little lower, along the line of coarse hair. I can feel Logan’s muscles rippling under my touch. He’s holding his breath. So am I.
“Marie... What do you want from me?” Logan whispers with a shaky voice. I move my hand lower and close it around his. We’re both holding his cock now.
“Are you sure?”

I open my eyes. There’s no blood. No pain. Just Logan, trembling under my touch. Every muscle coiled, gaze pleading me to finish it. I peel his hand off from around him and replace his fingers with my own. He thrusts against my palm.
“Harder…” I tighten my grip and he rewards me with loud groan. He closes his eyes and his head lolls backwards.
“Is this good?”
“Yeah… So fucking good… Don’t stop…” Idea of a blood soaked Logan pales in comparison with the sight in front of me now. And it makes me curse inwardly my stupid skin. I would give anything if I could strip myself naked and straddle him. To feel the throbbing flesh inside of me.

“You’re still on the pill?” Logan suddenly asks with a thick voice.
“Yeah.” Don’t really know why I bother.
“Take off your pants.” My hand leaves his cock and I stumble backwards to my ass from sheer surprise.
“Logan… I’m sorry… We can’t, my skin…” He’s stroking himself, heated gaze raking over my body.
“Just take them off. I want to do something… And give me your glove. Not that one. The other one.” He instructs when I start to peel off the clean glove. Other one is already sticky and slick from his pre-cum. I watch when he wriggles his hand inside of it, carefully.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you a new pair. Get those pants off. Now.” He continues stroking himself, intentionally soaking the glove with the fluid leaking from him.

“You smell so good…” He grunts when I sat next to him, without my pants this time. Roof feels warm under my buttocks, but at the same time this is kind of embarrassing. There will be a wet spot under me pretty soon. I can already feel something slick between my legs.
“Turn around… Play with yourself. I want to watch…”

I scoot over so that Logan has a clear view. Slide my hand between my thighs. Logan licks his lips.
“Go on… There’s not much I can do for you right now…” This is very embarrassing. I have done this before, but not in public. There has been no audience. I turn my gaze from Logan’s eyes to his cock, and suddenly this isn’t so hard anymore. I circle my clit and picture his fingers instead of mine doing it. They’re sliding up and down his slick shaft, and it isn’t difficult to start stroking myself at the same pace.

I’m melting. And it isn’t enough. My own hand isn’t enough. It feels like I have suddenly forgotten how to do this. I’m getting closer and closer to the edge, but every time it feels like I’m going over it, something pulls me back.
“Let me give you a hand…” Logan murmurs. Now I realize why he needed that glove. It’s saturated with his scent and essence. I lean on to my elbows. His fingers brush lightly over my clit. I have to bite my lip to stifle the scream.
“Hush… We don’t need company…” Logan whispers and eases slowly his index finger to my dripping core. I can’t look anymore. I lie on my back and bite my knuckles when completely new feelings wash over me. He ads carefully second finger, and starts pumping them in and out, slowly.
“Turn around a bit…” I can hear his hushed whisper.

I don’t know where I find the strength to move, but eventually we lay there side by side. I’m fucking his hand and caressing his cock and balls.
“Good… You’re so fucking wet…” Suddenly his hand retreats. He brings it up to his face and licks the cloth covering his fingers.
“Ah…” His cock in my hand turns even harder. He turns on his back, and before I have the time to protest pulls me on top of him, impaling me with his shaft. He’s coming. I’m coming. I can’t stop the scream that tears from my throat. He’s flooding me with his mind and body.

Oh… Christ… Not one of my brightest ideas. I’m too wiped to move her away. She’s still constricting around me. How the fuck is it possible that I’m getting hard again? Am I that twisted?
“Marie?”
“Logan… It’s… It’s not working. My mutation! It’s off. It’s off!” Thank God. For once something worked as I planned it.
“This roof is kind of hard. My bed is softer. Get up… Ahh…”
“I don’t want to…” She’s killing me. One day she’ll be the death of me, but what a way to go. She’s riding me slowly, so fucking tight and slick and hot… Her buttocks fit perfectly to my palms. She seems to like when I’m kneading them. Grinding harder against me and letting out small whimpers. And those breasts…
“Come here…” I want to taste them. Are they as sweet as they seem to be, or even better… I roll us over, I can’t take that slow rhythm anymore, it’s driving me insane. Time to give her a taste of her own medicine…

This way I get even deeper inside of her. All that wet heat around me, I can’t fucking breathe properly… She’s biting her lower lip. Better give her something else to bite. She even tastes a bit like vanilla. Strawberries. Her lips are so soft. Ah, and there’s something we have to discuss, as soon as I’m thinking with my brain instead of my cock. She just bit me. Hard. Hard enough to draw blood.
“Don’t. Nice and easy now…” Except that I don’t know how long I can keep up this nice and easy when she’s scratching my back like that. Wasn’t she a fucking virgin? Sure doesn’t feel like that… Have to turn her on her knees before she tears me to shreds.
“Turn over, darling…”

Much better…
“Logan…”
“Yeah?”
“Logan…”
“Mhmm?”
“Oh, God…”
”God’s not here, darling. Just the two of us…”

And if that didn’t alert the cavalry, I don’t know what will. I think she broke my eardrums with her scream. Maybe it was a good thing we stayed up here instead of going to my room. Where we should go right now, before Scott and who knows else barges out here. But I don’t think I can move. We’re both utterly, completely fucked up.
“Kid?” That rouses a giggle from her. I could laugh to my choice of word too, if I had the strength to do that.
“What?”
“We have to get in to my room. Can you move?”
“I think I can crawl…”
“Good… Crawl in to that direction…” Thank God I left the window open. Small drop from there to the floor. Only few meters between the bed and us. And I’m ready to go again. From the looks of it, so is she.

“Oh, God…”
“Logan?”
”Yeah?”
”God’s not here.”
“O-okay… Be gentle with me… Christ!”
“Oh…”
“Careful, honey…”

She’s taking me up in her ass. Slowly. I have to stay fucking still, can’t move an inch… She’s squatting over me, leaning against a chair and lowering herself slowly and it’s fucking torture to watch and not to do anything. We’re both so slick and wet and I just kind of slide in, but that can’t be so comfortable. Not at first. Have tried couple of times it myself, but that’s completely another issue…

She just sits there, buttocks flush against my crotch and rocks back and forth. Maybe if I rub her back a little…
“Don’t touch. This is good like this… Just let me be, please…”
“Stay as long as you like…” Who am I to complain? Especially when she starts to move a little. Small rocking and rolling motion, all the while she’s caressing my balls. Won’t take long now. I could… Yeah. I can reach her clit if I…
“Don’t touch… This is so good…” Okay. Oh… But no screaming this time. Please. I don’t think my ears can take it.

Guess somebody heard my plea. When she came that last time, she just kind of froze for a moment before falling face first on top of my feet, completely boneless. Have to say that I was quite boneless myself after that treatment. Barely managed to drag us in the shower. Getting dried up was impossible. We just flopped down to the bed and snuggled between the sheets.

She wore me out. Waking up in the morning was a bitch. Especially when I woke up to the sound of somebody pounding at my door.

“Mmhh… What is it?” Marie asks, rubbing her eyes.
“Scott.” And he will probably break down the goddamned door if I don’t go and open it. I don’t fucking want to get up. Ever again. Well, not at least as long as Marie’s in my bed.
“What!” I’m a genius. I can shout through the door. Marie snuggles against my side. This is good.
“It’s Rogue! She didn’t come to breakfast! She’s missing!” I glance at the clock on my bedside table. Ten. It’s fucking ten o’clock.
“She’s been missing from three in the afternoon yesterday, and you fuckheads just noticed it?” For a moment there’s a complete silence.

“What? Logan, you have to let me in. Now. She’s missing and we have turned this whole place upside down already…”
“Don’t worry, Scott…” Fuck. I really have to get up. They have the perfect timing. I’ll go and open the door. Scott barges in with bewildered look on his face. His eyes land on Marie who’s still curled up on my bed, nice and cozy.
“Congratulations, Scott. You finally found her.”

“What the fuck is she doing in your bed?” Guess it tells something about Scott’s mental state when he openly curses in front of a student. Then again, I fucked that same student, so I don’t think there’s that big of a problem.
“What does it look like she’s doing?” I ask and slide under the blankets. Marie’s a little tense, but curls against me and lays her head on my chest, closing her eyes.
“And how the hell is that possible? Why aren’t you dead?” Scott stutters.
“Overload. I gave her more than her mutation could handle and it just gave up.”
“How did that happen?” Scott asks. Marie’s blushing. I can’t stop the smug smile that creeps on my face. I know I should. I should be very serious, and use scientific terms to describe what happened.
“We fucked the living daylights out of each other,” comes out of my mouth instead. Scott slumps to a chair, removes his visor and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sure there’s something wrong with my hearing…” He says, placing the visor back before turning his face towards us again.
“There’s no way you just told me that you fucked a student.”
“Yeah, I did. And I’m planning to keep doing it. Her. Marie. Shit. Scott?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we just get this over with?”
“Okay. She’s too young, you’re a bastard, you’re not good for her, you should stop what you’re doing… You lucky son of a bitch. Don’t expect me to defend you guys when Xavier finds out about this. Which will happen in ten minutes. You better get dressed.” And with that said, Scott walks out, closing the door. I can hear him calling Jean, telling her to meet him in Xavier’s room.

“Do we really have to get up and get dressed?” Marie moans. She tries to pretend playful, but I can hear and see that she's scared out of her wits.
“Getting up, mandatory. Getting dressed, optional. Get your ass in gear, woman.”
“So, I’m a woman now?”
“My woman. Don’t go forgetting it…” I growl and nuzzle her bare stomach. That makes her giggle. Good. At least one of us is able to laugh. My mouth is watering from the scent of her skin. My stomach is freezing. I’m not stupid. There’s nothing the law can do, but there’s quite a lot what Xavier can do. But have to keep my act together. Shouldn’t make Marie worry. She worries enough already.
“So, are you going to get dressed, or do I haul you out there buck naked?”
“I need some new clothes…”
“You can borrow mine, they’re not actually your size, but that shouldn’t matter. You can go and change to your own clothes as soon as we have seen Xavier.”
“… And I wasn’t talking about shirt and pants. My gloves. They’re… Umm…”
“Hey! Give those to me!” She was about to throw them to trash bin.
“There will be times we won’t be sleeping together. One of us is on a mission, I’m after a lead…” And do I really have to spell it out?
“They felt good against my skin. And your scent is on them.” Great. We’re both blushing.
“You like it? My scent?”
“You didn’t notice it earlier?”

I really don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go in there. I think Logan notices something when he takes my hand from the doorknob and kisses my palm.
“You are my woman. Don’t forget it.” Earlier he said it jokingly, but this time it comes out more serious, reassuringly.
“And I belong to you. Come on, lets go and tell it to those people,” He continues, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me against his side before pushing the door open. I don’t have Logan’s senses. After my body got saturated with him, his whole presence in me got somehow negated. Yet I can feel the tension. Ever heard of that phrase about how tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife? Right now you’d need a chainsaw. Logan must be feeling antsy.

There’s Scott and Jean. Sitting on a couch. Ororo standing near the windows. Professor sitting behind his desk.
“Logan, Rogue… Please. Sit down,” Professor says. There are two chairs in front of his desk. I sit down, Logan stays up and stands behind me, hands on my shoulders. He feels like a warm wall behind my back.
“I believe all in this room are familiar with the topic at hand?” Professor asks. All? Does the whole freaking mansion know? Jean and Scott are nodding; Ororo keeps her back turned and just stares outside. It’s suddenly very quiet. Then Logan gasps and snarls. His grip from my shoulders tightens, and I’m sure there will be bruises later.
“Get the fuck out of my head… Now!” Both Jean and Professor look like somebody slapped them, blinking their eyes.
“You want to know something, ask.”

“Very well. Perhaps you would like to explain what made you think it would be a good idea to seduce a child?” Professor asks. Logan snorts.
”Rogue hasn’t been a child after Magneto caught her. And I seduced her? I gave her an option. She made the choice by herself.”
“Do you really believe she’s mature enough to make that kind of choices?” Professor asks.
“Why don’t you ask her? She’s sitting right in front of you.”
“We’re not discussing about her involvement with you. We’re here discussing about your involvement with her,” Jean says with a soft voice. And I simply can’t take this bullshit anymore.
“We fucked! It was good! We’re going to fuck some more in the near future! Get over it!”

I could have handled it better. I just got so angry when they refused to acknowledge my part in this and tried to blame Logan. Like something bad had happened. Things went fast downhill after my outburst. Suddenly everybody had something to say over the matter. Everybody was screaming and shouting. Then Ororo turned around and said it. Told Logan that he was a disgusting creature. A pedophile, and that he shouldn’t be allowed near the children, and that Professor should make sure that he couldn’t get his filthy paws on me never again. Logan snapped. I don’t know was it the part when Ororo blamed him of pedophilia, or the part when she told that they should take me away from him, but he simply snapped. I heard a low growl, his hands disappeared from my shoulders and I could hear claws coming out.

Now he’s downstairs, restrained to the Danger Room, and they won’t let me see him. This is wrong. So fucking wrong in so fucking many ways. He was only trying to defend himself, claws’ coming out was an instinctual reaction, but I’m sure he wouldn’t really have used them. As soon as they turned on him, Scott lunging to his feet to tackle him and Jean and Ororo taking hold of his hands he pulled the claws back in so that they wouldn’t get hurt. I don’t know what Professor did, but he had this faraway look in his eyes, like always when he’s using his telepathy, and suddenly Logan stopped struggling and fell limp. They dragged him to the elevator, and that’s the last I have seen him in two days. They have the elevator under lockdown mode, and I don’t know the code to it.

They have been having discussions about ‘the incident’. They haven’t called me to single one of their little get-togethers, but I have been eavesdropping. Tells quite a bit of their confusion, when neither Jean nor Professor has caught me.

They have a problem. Well, apart from the fact that they really have no good excuse to keep Logan and me separated… Logan has done nothing illegal. Yet what we did goes against their morals, and they acted hastily, without really thinking consequences. They can’t keep Logan locked up forever. Letting him out would mean they approve his actions. I’m not even going to think what he will do when they let him out. It won’t be pretty, that I know for sure.

I have noticed something interesting while listening them talking. Professor and Ororo are strongly disapproving my relationship with Logan, but Jean and Scott have taken a softer approach to the matter. They do not approve, but it sounds like they’re not condemning Logan. What happened, it happened. I even heard Scott proposing they should let us both go. It was not like I was hurt or anything. For that Ororo retorted sharply, that Scott was hardly in the position of judging what kind of mental scars Logan could have inflicted upon me. Mental scars? Was the woman nuts? Jean tried to remind them on several occasions about the good things that had happened. She had noticed a long time ago, that there was definitely something between Logan and me. And that I was able to touch him. That Logan could very well be the only person in this world I would be able to touch, ever. Professor and Ororo run those claims over with a verbal bulldozer. Professor even spat out that he wasn’t going to start coddling a pervert who raped children.

Believe me, it was pure hell just listen, and not to barge in and demand the right to defend us. It got even harder when the shrink Xavier had called finally arrived. Elderly lady with a snotty attitude dressed to a grey suit, long, grey hair twisted to a tight bun on top of her head. She was supposed to talk with me. To find out about my mental state. Like I was the insane one. Needless to say, I refused to see her.
“It’s for your own good.”
“You will feel better after you have talked it through with somebody who understands.”
“We are just trying to help you.”

Fuck them.

During these two days I have stayed in my room apart from my little scouting trips behind Xavier’s door, and quick dashes to kitchen to sneak out something to eat. I haven’t slept. I tried, but as soon as I closed my eyes I could see Logan, being dragged away from me, limp and lifeless. It’s getting hard to stay awake. I just want him back. I don’t care if it’s somehow wrong what we are doing. And how the fuck it even could be wrong when it felt only good and right?

I don’t have a fucking clue about what has happened. Must be something bad, because I can feel mental blocks in my head. Smells like something Professor would do if something goes wrong. And of course there’s this little detail of being locked up in to DR. Shit. Can’t be good. I hope I haven’t hurt anybody. Last thing I remember is that I was at the porch, having a cigar. Marie was there too. She had her ears pierced earlier that day. Fuck. I hope I didn’t hurt her.

I think I have been in here couple of days. They left me a bucket to take care of nature’s call, and some food and water. Jesus. Has to be something bad when they’re afraid to let me out, or even come in. Oh, God.

I haven’t killed anybody. That I know for sure. I wouldn’t be here if that was the case. Xavier would have handed me over to the authorities. Why the fuck do I have to be so messed up in the head? And what is so horrible that Xavier had to block it out? Did somebody die? There’s not that many things that would make me flip out. There’s not that many persons that would make me flip out.

There’s not much to do in here. Essentially DR is just a huge, round room. Without holographics best way to describe it would be probably a tank. Huge tank filled with nothing but air. And currently one very confused me.

I could probably cut my way out. I don’t know if I want to. And it would take time. This place is fortified to take on blows from even the most brutal scenarios. Would take days to cut through the door. And considering the fact that Xavier saw the need to lock me up in the first place, I don’t think he would just sit still and let me do it.

I have been mostly sleeping. The upside of the blocks Xavier put in to my mind, I can sleep without waking up to nightmares. Right now it’s easier to sleep than stay awake. As soon as I wake up, I start thinking, trying to figure out what landed my sorry ass in here. I have a fucking warped imagination. Better lie down and sleep than be scared.

Though I must admit I’m more than curious. Something in this whole hullabaloo doesn’t add up. First of all, when I woke up, I could smell Marie on me. Well, she sat on my lap, but judging from the scent we did hell of a lot more than just held hands and talked. Then there’s the fact that nobody has visited me. Fucking nobody. They haven’t been in the control booth. They just locked me in here and left. During this whole time nobody has been down here. Which means they have to be quite busy at the ground level. Then there are my clothes. There’s no blood on them. They’re clean and intact. And I know for a fact that when I flip out, the first thing to go is my clothes. Wolverine feels restrained when fully clothed.

I fucked her. I fucked with the kid, and they found out. That must be it. Makes me kind of wonder how the fuck did I do it. Last time I checked, she had a killer skin to go with those killer curves of hers. Her scent wouldn’t have been so strong if we didn’t touch skin on skin. Christ. I really am a bastard. I hope I didn’t knock her up. Not that I have anything against children, but she’s, what… Seventeen?

Marie and me? I would lie if I said that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind before. I have thought about it. Every once in a while. My first instinct when I saw her in that shithole in Laughlin told me to go to her and take her. Just walk up there where she was sitting, tear off that hideous cloak and take her there, against that damn counter. I have thought about that moment later, usually when I’m drunk enough. Tried to imagine what would have happened if I had followed that instinct. Well, I know what would have happened. Her skin would have dropped me like a sack of potatoes and I would have ended up behind bars from molesting a minor and attempted rape. But I really do have warped imagination. Countless what ifs, all ending to a point where I would have been buried to the hilt inside of her. Just out of principle, to show every goddamned schmuck in that place that she belonged to me.

Possessive? Hell, yeah. Sue me. Which brings another question to my mind. Marie. We fucked. What did she think about it? There’s no blood on me, so it’s quite safe to assume she was with me voluntarily. Rape is not my cup of tea, but I can be pretty damn persuasive. Did I talk her in to it? I hope not. I would like to think that it was something good and nice and we both wanted it. Because if it wasn’t, I don’t know how to handle it. Would I even be capable of screwing her over like that?

“Rogue, let me in.” What the fuck? It’s two o’clock in the middle of the night? What the hell is Scott doing behind my door at this hour? And what makes him think I would let him in?
“Come on. This is important. It’s about Logan.” And why is he whispering?
“Hurry up. We don’t have all night.”

“What? If this is part of Xavier’s strategy to convince me how wrong and ugly it was…” I start and open the door. Scott pushes in to my room, grabs me and covers my mouth.
“Shut up, and listen. Listen carefully.” I try to struggle, but he’s stronger than I. And covered from head to toe. He really has prepared for this… This… What ever this is. He’s holding me with one hand and pushes the door closed with other.
“It’s about Logan. If I let you go, promise not to scream?” He whispers. Why the fuck is he whispering? Only one way to find out. I nod. For the best of my abilities. It’s kind of hard to move your head when it’s squished between man’s palm and chest, but I guess I manage just fine. Scott seems to think so, too, because he lets me go.

“You have to take him out. Just take him and leave. Now.” Huh? I’m sure I didn’t hear that right. Or there’s something wrong with the way my brain is processing things. Scott didn’t just tell me to take Logan with me and run. Did he?
“We had a meeting tonight. Xavier’s… Oh, shit. It’s bad. You have to leave. I’ll give you codes to the elevator and to DR. You can take his bike. I don’t think it’s rigged. Jean is packing you some supplies in the kitchen.” Why this is so fucking easy? Why are they suddenly so nice to me?
“There’s a but?”
“Yeah. Xavier has Logan’s memory blocked. He’s not going to remember what happened after last Tuesday. I’m sorry, but we can’t help it. And it’s better than he looses some, than that he looses it all… Come on! Why aren’t you getting dressed already? I don’t know how long Jean can keep this a secret from Xavier!”

Last Tuesday. The day I saw him in the bathtub.
“He doesn’t remember anything?” Oh, God. This isn’t happening.
“Move! Put some clothes on, take him and leave! You have time to cry over it later!” It’s easy for Scott to say. Maybe it isn’t even right kind of comparison, but how would he feel if one day Jean wouldn’t suddenly remember their marriage. Their life together. I tell it to him.
“At least you have the chance to start over with Logan. Take it before it’s too late. Jean can’t hold Xavier back much longer.” Can’t hold Xavier back? What is he going to do? He already has Logan locked up and his memory tampered…
“Xavier is planning to wipe Logan’s memory. Right now his memories are still there, just behind a block. If Xavier has his will, Logan will loose those memories for good.” Oh. This is bad. I start scurrying around, jumping around in my underwear. Scott blushes and clears his throat.
“Here. The one starting with an x opens the elevator. The one below it will override the locking mechanism in DR. Go to garage through Blackbird’s hangar. I have disabled security cameras from there. Gives you more time to get out. I’ll go and see if Jean needs help…” He says handing me a scrap of paper. And with that Scott’s gone.

I choose the same clothes I had on when I first saw Logan. They’re old and worn, but they’re comfortable. And I really don’t want take with me anything that I have gotten from Xavier. Symbolic and maybe utterly needless and stupid gesture that I probably will regret at some point, but right now it feels like the right thing to do.

Now I’m standing in front of the elevator. There’s a backpack on the floor next to it. Parting gift from Scott and Jean. My hands are trembling. What if this is a set up? Some evil scheme that they could use to prove that Logan truly is the monster they claim him to be? What if Scott and Jean are truly trying to help me, but Logan’s even more messed up from the head than they know? What if he doesn’t remember me at all? If Xavier has already wiped his memory?

I will be none the wiser if I just stand here. I punch in the code Scott gave me. Wait for the alarm. Wait for them to jump out and scream ‘sucker!’. None of that happens. Elevator slides open. I take the backpack and walk in. It’s only one floor, but ride feels like it lasts forever. Finally door opens, and I stand at the end of metal corridor. At the other end of it I can see the door to Cerebro. What if Professor is there right now? Waiting for me, like a spider waiting for the fly to stumble in its net?

This iffing isn’t going to help me now. I brace myself and step in to the corridor. Elevator closes behind me, and I can hear it returning to ground level. Code that Scott gave me won’t bring it back down. Only one way to go now.

Massive door to Danger Room. Red light blinks couple of times before turning off. I can hear movement when door starts to open. Surprised gasp and soft footsteps. Logan. Oh, God. Let him be all right. Let him remember.

“Marie?” He’s standing at the doorstep, looking at me and shuffling his feet hesitantly.
“We are leaving. Scott and Jean let us go. Come on.” I turn and start walking down the corridor, towards the hangar. I can hear Logan walking behind me. I can practically taste anxiety and tension radiating from him. I would like to stop and tell him that everything’s okay, but there’s no time for that. I don’t know how long Scott and Jean can keep Xavier and Ororo oblivious.

“Scott told me to take your bike.” Logan nods. Then narrows his eyes.
“I don’t have the keys. They’re in my jacket pocket, and my jacket’s in my room.” Would Scott be that stupid?
“Wait. I’ll see what’s in here…” I open the backpack. Logan’s jacket is there; on top of variety of food and everything else Jean thought we might need.
“Okay. We’re good to go,” Logan grunts, putting on his jacket. I shoulder the backpack.
“Are we good?” He asks before sitting on the bike. I nod and brush a quick kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t look reassured, but small spark of hope flashes briefly in his eyes.

We drive until sun is rising before we find a motel and check in. We don’t have much money, but I’m sure we find a way to make some more. Logan pays for a day only, and manager behind the counter flashes him a knowing smirk. Logan narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything, just grabs my hand and guides me out from the office.

He hasn’t spoken to me after he asked if we were still okay. That was three hours ago. Silence between us isn’t unusual, but now there’s something unnerving with the way he sits on the edge of the bed shoulders hunched, and keeps staring at the tips of his boots. He looks like he’s ready to explode at any given second. After five minutes I can’t take it anymore. I start to rifle through the backpack Jean packed for us, to get something to do before I start to scream.

“What did I do?” His voice is so quiet that his question just barely registers.
“We made love. Xavier and Ororo didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“We? You volunteered? I didn’t force you?” Logan asks and it just about breaks my heart. Is that what he has been thinking all this time? That he raped me?
“You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted it. It was good. And now I can touch you.”
“Figures. Finally something nice happens, and I can’t remember it. Fucking story of my life… Are you pregnant?”
“No. I’m on the pill.” Relief flickers over Logan’s features.
“Thank God for that…” He sighs.
“Not that I would mind, but I don’t think you’re old enough. You should have time to live a little before having kids,” he adds.
“And there’s this whole ‘on the road with Harley’ –theme going on…” I smirk.
“That there is… Come here,” Logan smiles a little and opens his arms. I shrug off my cloak and cuddle against his chest.

“You said it was good. You liked it?” Logan asks, his hands around me, fingers trailing lazy patterns to my back.
“I liked it a lot.” What’s there not to like?
“Was I your first?” Uhh…
“Technically… I have…” This is embarrassing. Very embarrassing.
“I have a vibrator,” I mumble against his chest. I’m blushing. Somebody put me out of my misery. Now. Logan chuckles.
“Good. I didn’t… I didn’t hurt you?” He asks with more serious tone.
“No! Not at all. Well, it maybe hurt a little when we… No. It didn’t hurt.”
“Hurt a little? What did I do?” Me and my big mouth. He’s tensing again, pushing me up to see my face.
“What did I do, Marie?” There’s a panicky look on his face.
“After we got to your room from the roof I wanted to try how it would feel from behind.” Please. Take the hint. Take the hint. No. Why the fuck does he have to be so dense?
“I wanted to try anal, okay! It hurt a bit at first, but then it felt real good!” There. I’m a perv.
“Jesus Christ! We have to find a way to get rid of Xavier’s blocks. Sounds like I have forgotten the best lay of my life…” Logan murmurs and cups my cheeks between his large palms.

I have to kiss her. There’s no way I can keep my hands, lips, or any other part of me away from her now. She’s embarrassed, but she’s getting aroused already, just from speaking with me and remembering all those things we did and I can’t remember.
“Logan, I…”
“Hush.” We have spoken enough for now. It’s time to make some new memories. Who knows, maybe this will jolt back the old ones, too…
“Let’s go and see if there’s hot water…” Better move this to bathroom, because I fucking reek. There really wasn’t a chance to get washed up in the DR.

“Bath or shower?” And what the heck? What got in to her now? She was aboard with this just few seconds ago, tearing off her clothes, and now she’s just standing there. She’s afraid. Afraid of me. What the hell is going on?
“Marie? What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just… I had a shower already, before I came to get you. I think I’ll pass. It takes so long to get my hair dry after and…”
“Don’t lie to me.” Because that doesn’t suit you well. Fuck. Now she’s really scared. Hands trembling, chewing her lower lip, eyes darting between that bathtub and me.
“Oh, God… Logan… I know you like it like that sometimes, but I don’t think I would like it that much. At first I thought I would, but I don’t think it would be a good idea…” Huh?
“Can you be a little more specific? Because I don’t have a clue about what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to get hurt.”

Jesus. Titanic just met the iceberg. Now would be the perfect time to close the door to the bathroom and put on some clothes. I think I saw some cigars in the backpack when Marie was digging through it earlier. Yeah. Thanks, Jean.
“Sit. I’ll be back as soon as I have figured out what to say.” I point to the bed, and she sits on it, fiddling with her fingers, her gaze locked to the floor. And she’s so fucking scared that if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to gag.

Oh, God. He just left. He said he was coming back, as soon as he had something to say to me. Which could be in two minutes, or in twenty years. I think he might be still outside. I can smell the scent of his cigar. I haven’t heard his bike. Yeah. I think he’s still out there.

I want him. What red-blooded living female wouldn’t want him? But I don’t want him like that. I was excited when I saw him, all bloodied and caressing himself, but I don’t think I could be a part of that.

I wonder if those memory blocks Xavier put in his mind have something to do with this. Earlier, when we were up on the roof, and in his room, he was… He was passionate, but he was gentle. Careful not to hurt me. It was a good thing. He isn’t a small man, and it could have hurt if he hadn’t been so patient and thorough. And now he wants us to…

What if he’s angry? What if he got angry because I said no? I wanted it first. Hell, I was as eager as he was. Then suddenly cold shower. Firm no. What if he wants me only like that? Could I learn to like it?

Oh, God. He’s coming back…

“What made you think that I would hurt you?” That’s the first thing that we have to get cleared up. Because before I had the great idea to have some fun in the shower she was turned on. And as soon as her feet hit the bathroom floor she turned off. Like a fucking light bulb. On, off.
“I saw you. Earlier when you were… Umm… When you… Before you came in to the kitchen. I was going to get some ice cream. I heard a noise, and thought that you were having a nightmare. I was just going to check if I heard right so that I could go and wake up Jean. Then later I saw you in the DR with Sabretooth. I was… It looked… At first it looked…”
“You saw me. That much I got out of that explanation. What was I doing?” Because she has to be able to say it. Has to be. It’s a part of me. Something I do.
“I don’t fucking know what it was! You were jerking off and cutting yourself! Then later you let Sabretooth beat you up and got off from it!” Now, there’s a memory I wouldn’t mind if I lost it for good.
“You thought I wanted that from you?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No. You weren’t even supposed to know about it. Shit… I’m fucked up from the head. That shouldn’t be any news to you. Sometimes I need that. Need to gain back control. That way I can have it back. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to hurt me.”

She’s crying. We have about two hours left from our reservation to this room and I still haven’t gotten that shower. I really, really could use it, but there’s no way I could get up from this floor now. She’s plastered all over me and crying and my shirt is soaked with tears and snot, but she needs this. She doesn’t smell scared anymore. Just relieved.

Week two. Day thirteen on the road. We drive towards north. Stop every night. Every night a different motel, yet they all feel the same. Logan books us a room, we settle in, and he goes out. He’s fighting to make us money. It’s not much, but we get by. We have food, clothes and these goddamned motels. And I have Logan. At least part of him.

Every night goes according to same routine. We get in to the room and order something to eat. Watch TV and make lame comments about programs we see. At nine Logan gets restless, and at ten he leaves. He returns few hours before dawn, reeking of booze, smoke and sweat, tired to the bone. We have sex and he gets to sleep few hours before it’s time to get up and release the room.

We literally have sex. It’s good. But there’s no emotion attached to it from his side. I can tell he cares a great deal about me, maybe even loves me, but the spark that was there that day up on the roof of the mansion is gone. It feels like I was fucking with a machine instead of the man I love.

I don’t know what the problem is. It’s usually Logan who initiates. Just drags his carcass to me, peeling off clothes when he closes the short distance between the door and the bed. He’s very attentive, always makes sure I enjoy myself. He seems to enjoy it too, but there’s just something missing. I suspect that what ever it is, it’s locked behind Xavier’s memory blocks.

We haven’t figured how to get rid of those blocks yet. We have tried. I have told him what happened during those days. Have given him as detailed description of the missing days and nights as I could. It’s just not working. And I don’t know how long I can keep up this pretence that nothing is wrong. I know I should be happy and satisfied, but how can I be, when Xavier took away the most important thing in my life?

“Are you happy?” I ask. Logan looks around. There’s nothing much to see. Small room, stained carpet covering the floor, narrow bed, TV-set in front of it, door to bathroom partially open. Wet footprints leading from there to bed.
“I’m with you,” he answers.
“Yeah. But are you happy?” Because I’m not. Two weeks ago I would have probably been ecstatic if somebody told me I would be spending some time-off from the mansion, with Logan on the road.
“Yeah. I’m happy. Are you?” And that’s the first time Logan has ever lied to me.
“No.” I would like to lie too, but we will never get over this, never get things solved if we both keep lying.
“What ever Xavier did to you, it was bad. It feels like I don’t even know you anymore. And I want you back…” And now isn’t the time to cry. Whenever I start to cry, Logan doubles his efforts and pulls on a mask. A fake Logan. Almost as good as the real one. But it’s an act that he drops as soon as I get better.
“Marie… I… You know I love you. I want to be with you…”
“Shut up! Shut up! You’re like a fucking parrot! You keep repeating that night after night, and I can’t take it anymore! I want my Logan back, not some fucking machine!”
“This fucking machine is all that there is left! I can’t give you something that doesn’t exist!” When I finally manage to coax some genuine emotion out of him, it has to be anger? He gets up and gets dressed.
“Where are you going?”
“Outside. To smoke.” Even that is wrong. We can’t afford to cigars. He’s smoking cigarettes now.

Busted. I have been wondering, and actually fearing this moment. Nearly two weeks she bought my act. Well, nearly a week. She has known that something’s wrong for several days now, I have just been waiting for her to say it out loud.

She’s right. What ever Xavier did, it messed my head for good. There are cracks and holes in those blocks of his. Big enough to drive a truck through them. They are practically non-existent already. I can remember things from those two days on my own already. Just small tidbits. What clothes I wore. What I had for lunch. I still can’t remember Marie.

That’s not exactly the whole truth. I remember her. I remember fucking every little moan she let out. Remember every scent, every look on her face. I remember loving her. I remember I have loved her for a long time.

I remember all those things and feelings, but I can’t feel them inside of me anymore.

It’s kind of scary how easy it is. Just keep on going without a goal. Without any purpose. At first I thought I was this way because Xavier blocked my memory, but it has been a month already, and we’re well out of his range. There’s nothing wrong with my memory anymore. I even remember the fucking cloud formations that were up in the sky that day on the roof. Yet I can’t feel a thing towards Marie. We haven’t been together after she finally confronted me. Well, we are still traveling together and sleep nights under the same roof, but that’s more out of necessity than anything else. I know for a fact that Xavier is not after us. He got what he wanted. Hell, we could probably go back to the mansion, and everything would settle back to the way it was before. Almost. There wouldn’t be nightly chats with Marie. She wouldn’t be coming to me to show her new slippers. She wouldn’t be coming to me for anything at all, I’m sure Xavier would take care of that. He would neuter her, too. And eventually pair us up with more suitable partners.

Hell. Maybe it would be better that way. At least she wouldn’t be crying herself to sleep every night. I’m not there to see it, I spend my nights in the cage, but almost every morning I come home, I can smell it. Yeah. It would be easier for her. But I don’t think it would be right. She has the right for her feelings. Good or bad, at least she feels something. And I’m not going to let Xavier win this little game of his. I rather fucking kill her myself than let Xavier put out that fire that’s inside of her. I owe her that much.

She asked me something last night. Do I believe things will get better? I told her the truth. She didn’t like it much. Told me that she wished she had never let me out from DR. Can’t really blame her. There are moments when I seriously reconsider turning back. It would take few weeks. Few weeks more on the road, and we would be back at the mansion. Marie seems to sense when my thoughts take up that trail. She becomes awfully fidgety and starts asking when do we stop, what are we going to eat. Weather I’m going to fight tonight or stay in the room with her. Distractions. And they work. Every time she manages to bring forth something… Almost as if I felt something. She manages to make me smile.

I really try. I try to remember what it was like to feel. To love her. I try to find that feeling again, because she deserves to be loved. She doesn’t speak to me much, but I know she still loves me. She loves me every day a little less, but that only makes me try harder. Because some day she won’t love me anymore, and that is the day Xavier has won.

So I keep watching her. The way the sunlight makes her hair shine. How small breeze ruffles long strands of it. She keeps complaining they get in to her eyes and mouth, but refuses to braid it. I offered to do it for her. She said she wanted to be completely free. No braid, just all that shining sable flowing in the wind, mingling with those white strands she got from Magneto. They frame her face, and bring out her dark eyes. Deep brown. Filled with sadness. I remember what they looked like just a month ago, twinkling from joy and happiness. They’re as beautiful, or even more beautiful now than they were then. Pale skin, now touchable for me only. Fact that I should be overjoyed of. Soft lips, dark red against her skin. They tasted like strawberries, cherries and vanilla. Last time I kissed her I could taste only salt from her tears. Even that was welcome. As long as she keeps crying, I know there’s still hope left.