Logan woke slowly, breathing deeply to familiarize himself with the strange place he was in.

Xavier's. Yes.

And curled up in his arms -- they'd switched positions in the night -- was Marie. He smiled.

She looked so innocent in her sleep, one gloved hand resting under her cheek, the other curled tightly to her chest, which rose and fell with deep, even breaths. Her lips beckoned to him, and he realized that he'd never kissed her, never felt the rough velvet glide of her tongue against his. And he wanted to, desperately.

He eased away slowly, not wanting to wake her. She mumbled a protest, but continued to sleep.

He slipped silently into the bathroom and brushed his teeth with one of the toothbrushes Xavier had thoughtfully provided. He didn't want his morning breath to be an issue during their first kiss, though he was looking forward to tasting her with sleep still in her mouth, and breathing in her waking breath.

That done, along with a quick shave to make sure his chin was smooth, he went back into the bedroom and quietly searched for some cloth that would allow him to taste and feel her, even while providing them both protection from her deadly skin.

It wasn't that he was afraid of her skin; he wasn't. He just didn't want her to have to deal with anyone else in her head ever again. Himself included.

His bag held nothing of use in this situation, though it carried enough firepower to take over a small nation. He turned his attention to the dresser. Maybe something had been left behind, he thought, and after a couple of minutes, he came upon a balled up pair of pantyhose. Sniffing, he could tell they'd been washed and left in the drawer for a while.

Perfect.

He extended one claw and cut the length of one leg in half, giving him a very thin, fairly versatile piece of material with which to begin his explorations of the girl he believed he was falling in love with.

---

Rogue woke feeling warm and content for the first time in ages. Everything was quiet -- no sirens, no garbage trucks, no roommates humping strangers down the hall. Cracking open one eye, she took in her surroundings.

Xavier's.

She was in Westchester.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and grinned. It had all just been a dream -- a really long, really bad dream. She wasn't a hooker. She hadn't been beaten and fucked by strange men for the past few months.

Of course, that meant that the last part of the dream -- the one with the man, Logan (and it was unusual for her to remember so many details of a dream, but she remembered everything -- everything -- about him; the feel of his hands, the touch of his lips, the burn of metal sliding through her chest) -- was also unreal. And she was sad about that. He'd made her happy, and she couldn't remember the last time, waking or sleeping, that she'd been happy.

She sighed and stretched.

And heard a noise.

Her eyes flew open.

"It wasn't a dream," she whispered, and he could see the disappointment on her face. It sent shards of pain through his heart.

"No. Did you want it to be?" he asked gently.

"Not you, Logan," she said, sitting up and realizing how he'd taken her words. "Everything but you."

And she smiled at him. It never failed to make his heart lurch.

"Well then," he said, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief and desire, "how about a good morning kiss?"

Her face fell. "You know I can't. I wish I could, though. I wish I could spend the rest of my life kissing you." Her eyes widened and she blushed, clapping a hand over her mouth as she realized what she'd just said. She hung her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair.

He smiled at her. "Me, too." He settled on the bed next to her, then raised her chin with a gloved hand and looked into her eyes. He brushed a thumb over her full lower lip and nearly groaned at the thought of tasting it, her.

He held up the nylon. "I think it'll work." He waited for her permission, which she granted with a slight nod. He laid the sheer cloth over her lips and reverently brushed them with his own.

Soon, though, he wanted more. Sliding one hand around her neck and cupping the back of her head, he licked insistently at her mouth and she opened it eagerly.

The kiss deepened, searing both of them with its intensity, and she wrapped herself around him, trying to pull him closer. Her gloved hands roamed up his chest, under his shirt, and then around and down his back, learning him by touch, memorizing every muscle and bone.

He broke the kiss, sliding the material down her jaw and neck, allowing him to lick and nip lightly at her. Her moan of protest changed to a gasp of pleasure as he found a spot on her neck that sent electricity shooting through her body.

"Logan," she whispered, not able to catch her breath enough to speak properly. He grinned -- she could feel the movement of his mouth -- but didn't speak.

He continued to kiss his way down her body, stopping only long enough to divest her of the sweatshirt and pants she still wore, so she was naked before him, except for the gloves. He marveled at the smooth paleness of her skin, all the angry, red scars healed by his touch.

"It's not safe," she groaned, trying to cover herself, but he wouldn't let her.

"Trust me," he responded, and she could feel the scrape of his sideburns along the inside of her thighs, only slightly softened by the material he placed between them.

Her hands anchored themselves to his scalp when he ran his tongue over her glistening, velvet folds, tasting her for the first time, his pleasure not impeded at all by the cloth.

Neither was hers, he thought, as she arched her hips off the bed.

"Logan -- uh -- ah--" She couldn't think -- her whole world narrowed to the tiny bundle of nerves between her legs as he gently licked and sucked at it, enjoying the way she bucked and writhed in response to his caresses. "Logan, please," she moaned. He laughed in delight, sending vibrations shuddering through her as the delicious tension radiating out from his mouth tightened her muscles. He slipped one finger, and then a second into her tight, wet passage and slowly stroked them in and out in time with the rhythm he'd established with his tongue on her clit.

She felt a sensation burning along her nerves, as if she were on fire from the inside, and then, when she thought she couldn't take the tension anymore, he sucked harder, quickening the pace of his fingers.

She came hard, her hips banging into him as her nails, even through the leather of her gloves, dug into his skull. "Oh, Logan. Logan -- ahh--"

She shuddered with the intensity of it for several long moments, and he continued to stroke her gently, enjoying the glazed look in her eyes, proud he'd been able to bring her such pleasure.

He got up to get another piece of nylon and she grunted in protest. Returning quickly, he laid the sheer fabric over her face and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

Her hands drifted down his body and under the waistband of his sweatpants to find his cock hard and ready, dripping with pre-come. She stroked him gently at first, then harder, from root to tip scraping one nail along the sensitive underside. She grinned at his sharp exhalation, "Fuck, Marie!"

She gave a sultry smile as she pushed him back, wrapping the nylon around him. She engulfed the head of his penis in her mouth and he groaned wordlessly, caught up in the sensations her lips and tongue were producing.

But he wanted her to come again -- wanted this to be about her, not him. He abruptly pulled her head away, running his thumb across her swollen lips, which pouted at him in confusion.

"Rubbers -- in my bag," he said, his voice tight with need and control.

She took the foil-wrapped packet and looked at him. "How--"

*Snikt*

Very carefully, he cut a slit in the front of his sweats and pulled them back on.

"Oh," she crooned, delighted at his ingenuity. Reaching in, she freed his penis, which sprung to attention. "Very smart." And she proceeded to roll the condom down onto his length.

"That's why I'm--" he managed as she straddled him and dragged her wet sex along his sensitive head before settling on his lap, "the best... there is... at what I... do." She raised up and impaled herself on his cock without warning. "Fuck!"

She grinned and leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his sweatshirt-clad chest, her hands on his shoulders for leverage.

She rode him and he pressed his hands to her hips, urging her on -- faster, harder. She clenched her inner muscles around him, enjoying the steady stream of encouraging words tumbling from his lips. This was so different from the sex she was used to -- she'd never felt like this with any of her johns. That was all about playing a role, and some of them weren't even interested in that.

She grabbed his hand and moved it between them, guiding him once again to her clit. It wasn't long before she lost the rhythm and climaxed again, drawing him deeper into her body. She spasmed around him and he lost it -- the world went bright white behind his eyes and he thrust into her hard, once, twice, three times -- coming with an intensity that surprised him.

She collapsed against him, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm.

He pushed her sweaty hair off her face and said, "I hope we didn't wake the neighbors." She blinked and blushed as he continued, "You were pretty loud, Marie." He grinned slyly. "Hope none of the kids are on this floor."

"You weren't exactly quiet yourself," she responded playfully. "I think I heard you call my name out a few times. "

"That I did, darlin'. That I did."

She nestled down into the crook of his arm, ready to go back to sleep when he tensed.

"Someone's coming," he said, every sense on alert.

She knew better than to make the obvious joke when she saw the serious look on his face.

There was a knock on the door.

Logan rose and opened it; it was Jean. She was dressed and looked like she'd been awake for hours. Catching sight of the clock, Rogue realized she probably had been. It was nine twenty-five. She blushed and slid further down beneath the sheets.

"The Professor would like to see you, Logan," Jean said, taking in the state of the room -- and Logan's sweats -- at a glance. She frowned but said nothing about their morning activities, for which Rogue was grateful. She had a feeling Scott wouldn't have been so restrained, and the last thing she needed was him and Logan coming to blows.

"I'll be down in a minute," Logan said. When Jean showed no sign of leaving, he continued, "I can find my way, Red."

She harrumphed, but left them alone.

He sat down heavily on the bed. "I don't wanna cause you any trouble, with these people, Marie. If you wanna stay here--"

"I want to stay with you," she answered, and he could see the resolve in her eyes. "Don't you," she swallowed hard, "don't you want me to stay with you?"

His gaze softened and he stroked her cheek. "More than anything, darlin'. But if you got a chance at a normal life here--"

She shook her head and he could tell from her scent how upset she was. "You know what I am, Logan, what I've been through. What kind of normal life can I have? At least with you, I know where I stand."

He pulled her into a fierce embrace. "I don't wanna screw things up for you."

"There's nothing to screw up if I'm not with you, Logan. That's the truth. I have nothing without you." She rubbed her face against his shoulder. "Let's stay together. Just, just be honest with me, and it will all be all right."

He pressed his lips to the top of her head, where it was safe, and whispered, "I can do that."

She sniffed and pulled back to wipe her nose.

"You better get dressed," she said finally. "Professor Xavier doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Logan shrugged. "I'm not too worried about him. In fact, I'm gonna tear him a new one for letting you stay on the street, and then I'm gonna get us the hell outta here. Okay?"

She nodded and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. That made him want to kiss her again, so they got distracted for a few minutes, until he heard the voice in his head, ~Logan, we're waiting.~

He growled softly.

"What?"

"He's talking to me in my head."

"Oh. That. Yeah. You get used to it." She frowned. "Or maybe it's just me -- I got used to having all sorts of voices in my head."

He growled again. "No more, darlin'. Not while I'm around." Another few minutes passed as he felt the need to reassure her physically that he would protect her.

"You better go," she said again.

He grunted, getting up and digging through his bag for some clothes. He dressed quickly in jeans and a black t-shirt, giving Rogue a bit of thrill as she watched him change, sighing softly at the play of his muscles under his taut, olive skin.

He bent to kiss her hair again as he left. "Try to get some sleep," he suggested. "I'll be back soon."

---

When he got down to Xavier's office, Jean, Scott and Storm were already there. None of them looked happy.

"So? I'm here," he said.

"While you're under my roof, Logan, I'd appreciate it if you didn't sleep with one of my students," Xavier began, last night's seeming acceptance of their relationship gone.

"She's not your student, Chuck. And you should have been more worried about who was sleeping with her when she wasn't under your roof." He paced like a caged tiger, his anger growing as he thought of what Marie had endured. "What a bunch of hypocrites! It's all right for her to turn tricks to survive, but she's not allowed to sleep with someone who cares about her? Fuck that!"

Scott's lips tightened into a grim line, his hands clenched into fists. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jean beat him to the punch.

"Rogue chose to leave us, Logan. We didn't force her to stay -- we don't force anyone to stay if they don't want to. And she didn't want to."

"Yeah, 'cause you made such a good case to her to stay," he snarled. "I know she's got you and your boy toy in her head. Funny how that didn't convince her she oughta stay, even after those crazy people tried to kill her." He stalked toward Jean, who stumbled back against the Professor's desk. "What could you have possibly been thinking that was so bad that she chose a life on the corner instead of staying here at your mutant heaven? Huh?"

"That's enough." Xavier's voice cracked like a whip. "What's done is done. While we are most heartfully sorry that Rogue has had such a bad time, there is nothing we can do now to remedy that. I'm more interested in her future. She should remain here. We can keep her safe from Sabretooth--"

"That's the guy who attacked us last night?"

The Professor nodded. "Yes. He and his associates are most likely looking for revenge. Since they cannot strike at us directly, they'll settle for killing her."

"Not while I'm around," Logan snapped. "She's mine now, and I protect my own."

"Yes, we know all about you, Wolverine." Scott spat the codename as if it were a curse. Logan sighed internally. He really wished Marie hadn't let that information slip. If these do-gooders really wanted to fuck him over, they could just turn him in to the cops. He was wanted by the federal government, as well as in thirty-five states and a number of countries.

"We're not going to turn you in," Xavier said.

He looked up sharply. "Stay outta my head, old man."

"Occupational hazard," Xavier replied urbanely. "You were projecting quite strongly. But no, I think we can help you, as well, Logan." Logan said nothing, waiting for the inevitable sales pitch. "We could use a man of your -- skills on the team. If you join the X-Men, you are free to stay here at the school. You get room and board, and Rogue can finish her education. She can get her GED, go on to college if she wishes --"

"As long as we stay away from each other?"

"She is in a fragile state. You know it as well as I. She's latched onto you for some reason and--"

"And you're a bastard who's taking advantage of a young, confused woman," Scott burst out, unable to hold back any longer. "You're no better than Sabretooth -- "

Logan grabbed Scott by the collar and had him up against the wall before Scott could finish speaking. "Don't you ever compare me to that son of a bitch. I saw what he did to Marie." His voice was cold, deadly. It was easy to believe all the stories they'd heard about the Wolverine when they saw this side of him. "And I'll kill him for it."

"Need help?" That was Storm. Her tone matched his in coldness.

Logan let Scott go, turning toward the white-haired woman. "You killed the other one -- Toad?" he asked, recalling Marie's words the night before. A firm nod. "Thanks. But I can handle the others. This Sabretooth, someone called Mystique? And Magneto?"

"How--" Jean began, but Xavier interrupted her.

"You heard us speaking last night."

"Yeah."

"You're full of surprises, Logan," Xavier said. "I know about the metal claws and the healing from your reputation. Enhanced senses would explain much."

He growled. Marie wasn't the only one letting things slip. He was angry and emotional and that made him sloppy. Which made him angrier.

Breathing deeply, he centered himself, calling upon years of training to leash the fury that was even now coursing through his veins, the animal in him who wished to do nothing but wreak vengeance on all those who'd done his mate wrong.

My mate. The thought shone with a clarity that startled him. He pushed it aside to focus on the matter at hand -- namely, getting away from Xavier without making enemies with the man. It wouldn't do to have an enemy who knew his name, his face, and now, his weakness.

Adopting a slightly more civil tone, he said, "Look, we all want the same thing, right? So just let me and Marie hightail it on outta here. You can forget you ever met me and I won't kill you all for fucking her over. She'll be safe and you won't have to worry about hairy, psychotic mutants trying to kill her."

"Don't you think I should have some say in all of this?"

Rogue stood in the doorway, freshly showered, still dressed in Logan's sweats from the night before.

"Of course, Rogue," Xavier said, on top of the situation as always. "Tell us what you have in mind."

She smiled ironically at his words. "I want to stay with Logan. He, he makes me feel safe. Normal." Loved. The word hovered on her tongue, but she wasn't confident enough to say it. She'd only known him a week -- and for most of that, he'd been a john, not a person. But he always treated her like a human being, which was more than she could say for most of the people she'd met since leaving home fifteen months ago.

Jean reached out tentatively, carefully taking Rogue's gloved hand. "We can keep you safe here, Rogue. And perhaps help you with your mutation. You didn't really give us a chance last time--" Logan snorted and Jean shot him a look before continuing. "You left as soon as you were well enough to walk."

Logan felt his knuckles itch. He'd seen the scars, but hadn't realized that they'd been deeper than they appeared. Oh yeah, I'm killing him slow, he thought. Slow and painful.

"You didn't give me a whole lot of options," Rogue replied sharply. "I just wanted a normal life. I didn't want people cringing away in horror when they saw me, or pitying me because on top of being untouchable, I made Quasimodo look like a supermodel."

"Rogue, I never--"

"You did, Jean. You really, really did," Rogue's voice had lost its angry edge. She sounded old, defeated. "You might not have said it, but you thought it and felt it. 'Cause I felt it when you touched me."

Jean's eyes widened in shock. "I -- I'm so sorry. I didn't think--"

"Hey, you were scared. I was sucking the life out of you. Believe me, hearing even more voices in my head freaked me out, and I'm used to it. Anyone would have freaked in your situation.

"But still, you felt it, and I, I just didn't want to be around people who were scared of me, who pitied me the way you do. I have some pride."

"You left because of pride?" Jean said, aghast.

"I know it sounds stupid -- hell, it was stupid -- but it was bad enough when I was just untouchable, you know? To all of a sudden be ugly and deformed -- " She was close to tears. Logan moved toward her casually, putting an arm around her and drawing her against his chest.

"You didn't want anyone's pity. I can understand that." Scott sounded surprisingly calm, gentle even, considering how angry he'd been just moments earlier. "I was the same way. But I stayed and I found a home. I think you will, too. If you give us a chance. I just don't think that living hand to mouth with a -- a criminal like Logan is what's best for you."

Her eyes flew to Logan at the word "criminal," but she showed no other signs of surprise. She sniffed. "I-- I'll think about it." Wiping her face with one gloved hand, she said, "I need to think." And she fled, as quietly as she'd come in.

Scott smirked at Logan. "Maybe what she wants isn't exactly what you think, Logan."

Logan opened his mouth to respond, trying to hide the way his heart had sunk at her words, but Xavier interrupted.

"This isn't very productive. I suggest you all get back to what you were doing. Logan, please sit down. I'm still hoping we can come to some sort of accommodation."

They left the two men together. Scott, muttering about unfeeling bastards who took advantage of young girls who didn't know any better, went off to the hangar to fiddle with the Blackbird, while Ororo headed out to the gardens.

Jean, on the other hand, was feeling terribly guilty that her thoughts had driven Rogue away the first time, and she was determined to rectify her mistakes.

She found the girl sitting forlornly in the library, staring out the window. Dressed in sweats that were far too big for her, Rogue looked even younger than her eighteen years, and so very delicate. Jean's heart went out to her.

"Hey," she said softly, so as not to startle her.

Rogue blinked and shook her head. "Hi." She looked around at the dim, cool room. "I missed this."

"The library?" During her slow recovery after the Statue of Liberty incident, Jean had often brought her down here to read. Sabretooth had done a thorough job of mauling her before Magneto had put her in his machine. She had obviously struggled - her left leg had been broken in three places, six ribs were cracked, and she'd been covered in slash marks. Some of the cuts had gone bone-deep. And that didn't include the sexual abuse and psychological torture she'd suffered.

Getting well had been a long and arduous process, one Jean was sure was still ongoing. Rogue had left when her broken bones had healed, but Jean knew that so much of her was still damaged, disappearing scars notwithstanding.

Jean took a deep breath. "There are libraries in the city."

"Not a whole lot of time to spend in 'em, though," Rogue replied, reminding Jean once again how she'd spent the past few months.

"Want to talk about it?" she offered, hoping vainly the girl would open up to her.

A laugh -- a bitter sound that no one should ever make, Jean though, let alone an eighteen-year-old girl, who should have only happy childhood memories behind and her whole life ahead of her.

"I'd rather not." She pushed her damp hair off her forehead, the white streaks permanent reminders of what had happened, even if the scars were gone.

The doctor in Jean was busy wondering how Logan's healing had affected Rogue internally, while the telepath wondered how the girl was dealing with a new occupant in her head. As a person, though, a member of the human race, Jean just felt guilty.

She knew how much regret and anger Scott was carrying over the incident; this was a chance to help him gain some measure of peace, as well as help Rogue.

"How about we get you some clothes that fit, then?" she asked, wincing slightly at her overly-cheerful voice and hoping to appeal the typical feminine desire for nice things. Or nicer than the huge old sweats the girl was currently wrapped in.

Rogue looked torn. She brought one sleeve to her face, inhaled deeply and Jean understood. Wearing Logan's clothes was just another way Rogue was making herself feel safe. Jean opened her shields a little, trying to get some clue as to Rogue's true feelings for the man, but the welter of emotions -- and personalities -- emanating from her made reading her an impossibility. Jean simply wasn't that subtle or powerful. Yet.

"Or not," Jean said in that same bright tone when Rogue didn't answer.

"What? Oh. Oh, no. Clothes -- clothes would be good. I -- I left everything in my apartment, and then my work clothes..." she trailed off and hung her head in embarrassment.

Jean patted her arm in awkward sympathy, shuddering inwardly at whatever ensemble would be considered appropriate "working clothes" for a streetwalker, especially one with lethal skin.

Which was a whole other interesting sidelight, Jean thought. The girl wasn't lying about being a prostitute, but she must have been very careful or --

"Blow jobs," Rogue said, the seeming non-sequitur snapping Jean out of her suddenly tangled thoughts.

"Excuse me?" she asked faintly, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she felt the blush steal across her face.

"Mostly I do blow jobs and hand jobs," Rogue clarified. "No skin. No touching." She sighed wearily. "It's a living."

"No," Jean said sharply. "It's not. We can help you here, Rogue. You'll never have to do -- that -- again, unless you want to." God, she was flustered. Where was her legendary sang froid, the unflappability that served her so well both before Congress and when dealing with recalcitrant teenagers? She realized her guilt was gnawing at her, making her oversensitive to everything about this girl, this situation.

Rogue sighed again, this time in exasperation. "Clothes?"

Jean recognized it for what it was; Rogue had no wish to rehash the argument probably still raging in Charles's office.

"Okay, then," she replied, "clothes."

She took the girl up to one of the spare rooms, which served as a communal closet for the new students.

As they discussed sizes and styles, Jean tried to tell herself that taking care of these physical needs was good, and all that could be expected of her, but her guilt lingered, even as she noticed Rogue's mood lightening.

When her stomach growled, Rogue laughed, and Jean smiled at the genuine, happy sound, grateful that she wasn't so damaged she couldn't manage it.

"Lunch is in a few minutes," Jean said. "Why don't you change," she nodded at the armful of clothing Rogue had accumulated, "and I'll see you there?"

Rogue nodded, and the two women parted ways.

---

Rogue went back to the room they'd spent the night in, but Logan wasn't there. He was stubborn, but it was possible that the Professor was a match for him. Not to mention Scott.

She hoped Scott chose to exercise discretion and stay out of Logan's way. She'd feel terrible if he got injured. He'd saved her life, after all, and had done what he could to protect her and make her feel better while she'd been here the first time.

As she changed into the jeans -- faded and soft, only a little big through the waist and hips -- and shirt Jean had handed her -- white, cotton, button-down, too large but not so bad as the sweats -- she sifted through the images she'd absorbed from Logan. A criminal, Scott had called him. She closed her eyes and let bits and pieces of his memories rise to the surface of her mind --

Staring through a gun-sight at a swarthy man in some kind of uniform, medals all over his puffed out, barrel chest. Banana republic dictator wannabe.

Lying on the ground underneath a limousine, wires straggling from enough C4 to blow a small building.

Sinking the claws into a tall, thin bald man with glasses. Feeling the blood run over her knuckles as she jerked upward--

Her eyes snapped open and she fell to her knees, hand over mouth, feeling her stomach rise to her throat.

Oh, God.

Other memories intruded on her horror. His inexplicable attraction to her -- picking her out of the knot of whores on the corner. The unexpected kinship between them. The way his heart lurched when she smiled. That he had cared enough to buy her dinner and ask how her day had been.

So, okay, on the one hand, scary killer guy with nine-inch claws. On the other, Logan. Nothing more or less.

She thought she could live with that for the moment. It was all she had, and she wanted desperately to hold onto it.

She found Jean in the dining room a few minutes later, putting a sandwich and some fruit on a tray for her.

"Sit with us," Ororo offered, but Rogue declined, feeling the need to get some air, do some more thinking while she ate.

She went out to the garden, wolfing down the peanut butter and jelly sandwich eagerly.

A boy she didn't recognize smiled and sat down next to her.

"You look a little lonely. Mind some company? I'm Richard."

She returned his smile shyly. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be around regular people -- civilians -- again. Normality was what she longed for, and maybe Xavier really could offer that.

"Sure."

He chattered about his classes and how he planned on joining the X-Men when he graduated while she sat and slowly relaxed her guard. She drank her milk and ate her banana and felt like a normal teenager again.

And then his voice changed. "Yeah, baby, you sure know how to use that mouth," he taunted.

She snapped to attention, swallowed the suddenly tasteless piece of fruit and said, "Excuse me?"

"I heard about you," the boy said, moving way too close to her on the bench. She scooted over but he followed. "They say you're a hooker. How about you give me some sugar?"

"I don't think so," she said faintly, all feelings of normality gone.

"What, you still wanna get paid? I don't think the Prof is gonna like that if I tell him," the boy said, his voice and his eyes making her skin crawl.

"I--" Rogue swallowed. She wasn't prepared for this. On the street, it was easy to tell the jerks to fuck off, and it had even become bearable to accept the beatings from the ones who took offense. But here, she thought she'd be safe. It was difficult to slip back into her street persona, something she didn't want anyone at the school to see. "I don't think so," she said a second time, getting up and moving away.

His hand on her arm yanked her back, pulling her down onto his lap. "Come on, bitch. I heard that ape you brought with you making you scream this morning. You could do better than him. You could have me." One hand stroked her arm gently while the other held her thigh in an iron grip, pinning her to his lap.

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and tried to call up some of Logan's memories, something that would let her fight this guy off.

"Leave me alone," she said, her voice stronger, as she tried to lever herself off him. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

He laughed until two shadows fell across the bench.

"Let her go," Scott said.

Logan didn't even waste time on words. He simply pulled Marie from the punk's grasp with one hand and grabbed the boy by the shirt with the other.

"What's your problem, boy? You don't treat a lady like that."

"What?" the boy asked incredulously. "She's just a whore, a --"

"Now you've done it," Logan growled. "You and me, bub, we're never gonna be friends." He knocked the boy flat on his back. "You never, ever talk to her again. You don't touch her, you don't look at her, you don't even mention her name." One claw slid menacingly out of his fist. "You understand me?" He could smell urine as the boy pissed his pants. He bared his teeth.

"Y-yes, sir."

Logan was tempted to kick him in the ribs for good measure, but Marie was clinging to his arm, and he had to make sure she was all right.

He cupped her cheek gently, using her hair to protect himself. "You okay, baby?"

"I am now," she whispered, her lashes damp with unshed tears.

He swung her up into his arms and took her into the kitchen, Scott trailing after them, seething himself.

"This is what you're offering her?" Logan growled incredulously. "She's better off with me. At least she'll be treated right."

"I--" Scott could barely form a sentence.

Jean and Storm appeared immediately. "What happened?" the weather goddess asked.

"Some punk--" Logan began.

"Richard," Scott interjected.

"Made the mistake of putting his hands on Marie," Logan continued. "I took care of him."

"He'll be severely reprimanded," Scott added.

Logan snorted.

Rogue convinced him to put her down, but he kept one hand on the small of her back. He was in full alert mode, firing on all cylinders for the first time since the X-Men had met him.

"You see why I can't stay?" Rogue demanded, her voice cracking. "It will always be like that here. Always. They'll never let me forget--" Her voice failed.

Scott nodded wearily. He knew how kids were; he'd spent a good portion of his life in institutions and foster homes before Xavier had found him, and he'd been stigmatized early on as defective. "Yeah," he said, knowing when to give in gracefully.

Once the decision was made, it didn't take long for Logan to get them organized to leave. Xavier was giving -- "Selling," insisted Logan -- them a car, an old Nissan Maxima, and they'd assured Rogue she could keep the clothing she'd picked out.

By three o'clock, they were ready to hit the road.

"You will always have a place here," Xavier said as they climbed into the car. "I will be in touch if I hear anything about Sabretooth, or the -- other -- matter we discussed."

Logan grunted out his thanks. He wasn't one for long goodbyes and he wanted to get out on the road before Marie realized she was making a mistake and changed her mind.

They pulled out of the driveway and Rogue chanced a look back at what they were leaving behind, the life she might have had."

"You okay, darlin'?" he asked, his stomach tied in knots.

She smiled that smile, the one that never failed to move him. "I'm fine, Logan. As long as we're together, I'll be fine."

"No regrets?" he pressed.

"No, sugar. No regrets."

~End~