She had never really understood what Logan had gone through during the war or what it had done to him. He had returned to her, looking
like he had gone through hell. He had left her again, only to return
six months later, looking like his old self again. Now she was
watching the beast he had shackled away during those six months he
had been gone, crawling on his hands and knees without eyes,
tracking his prey with scent alone. Sabretooth was dancing around
him, raining taunts and insults, as well as good placed kicks from
now and then.

She had been returning to her car from the market, carrying two
large paper bags, planning what she could make for dinner. Black,
unmarked van had pulled to halt next to her, side door open, and
strong, hairy arms had pulled her inside. She had managed to see a
glimpse of a smirking face before they covered her eyes with black
cloth.
"Inform the runt. We have his bitch."

"Do you have any idea what that husband of yours is doing when he is
away from home? When he is supposed to be in Westchester, helping
Xavier?" She couldn't see the owner of the voice, but she knew him
still. Goosebumps rose to her skin and she shivered. Magneto.
"Let me tell you… He works for Xavier, that much is true. I believe
he has told you he teaches self defense?" Magneto was clearly
waiting for an answer, so she nodded. Magneto laughed softly.
"Clever guy… He isn't a teacher. He's Xavier's hitman. Xavier has no
heart to put his kids in danger, so he sends your husband to take
care of worst problems. From what I have seen, our dear Wolverine
has started mixing entertainment with work. I have proof. Videotape.
Would you like to see it?" For that she shook her head. What ever
was on that tape, was most likely false information, distorted and
manipulated.
"Why do I even ask? Of course you would like to see it!"

Cloth had been removed from her eyes. Huge screen on the opposite
wall had flared to life. Image was crystal clear, most likely filmed
in this same compound. She noticed structural and material
similarities on background with this room she was held. There was a
room filled with mutants, all shapes and sizes. Some were carrying
different weapons and guns, some seemed to be confident to use their
own mutation. Suddenly door was kicked in. Somebody stood in the
doorway. She squinted her eyes. Logan. It was Logan. Wearing black
leather suit, uniform of the X-Men. Several shots echoed, and he
went down, falling heavily on his face to the cement floor. When
some of the mutants approached him, true carnage was unleashed. Mere
five minutes later Logan was only one still standing, covered with
blood and other secretions from head to toe, blood and little shreds
of flesh dripping from the tips of his claws. Sight of it made her
sick, but that wasn't anything she hadn't known. She turned her
questioning gaze to Magneto who stood smiling next to the chair she
had been tied to.
"Patience, my child. Best part is coming…" Old man said, pointing
towards the screen, where Logan was crouching now, and poking a
steaming pile of innards.

She couldn't stop screaming before Magneto slapped her hard on the
cheek. Logan was a cannibal. Anything else she could have
understood. Not accepted, but understood. Anything else. Another
woman, drugs, anything but this. Anything but that half-man, dropped
on his haunches and chewing through still beating heart, clearly
enjoying it. This had got to be some sort of cruel joke. Soon
everybody would start laughing. Anybody? Now would be a really good
time before she wet herself or vomited.

There was no laughter. Only sympathetic look on Magneto's face.
"He has to be stopped. I doubt even Xavier knows about this. We have
told Wolverine where you are. He will come for you. And then this
all ends."

Logan had come, crashing through warehouse doors with his bike,
blood and gore gleaming in his eyes. Mystique and Toad had gotten
maimed, but before his death Toad had managed to cover half of his
head to sticky, glue-like substance, sealing off his eyes. He was
blind when Sabretooth joined to battle.

"I don't need to see you to kill you. Your stench is bad enough to
gag a maggot, furball…" Sabretooth had swept him off from his feet,
stomping hard on his lower back. She had heard a snap, and for a
moment all life had been gone from Logan's limp body. Sabretooth had
been dangling him from the back of his jacket, pummeling his head
against iron support beam. Logan hadn't made a sound, but suddenly
Sabretooth was down, screaming and holding his lower abdomen. Logan
had stood little unsteadily, looping something slippery and shiny
around his left wrist. Sabretooth's intestine.

"I have a gut feeling, that what ever this stuff is, it's quite
vital for you…" He started and gave the bundle a good, swift yank.
"So I should probably be very careful about what I'll do with it.
Right?" Sabretooth screamed and kicked him, but there was no power
behind his kicks anymore. Logan crouched next to him, leaning closer
to his face and smirked.
"Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" His other hand patted Sabretooth's
torso carefully, until he found his neck. He grabbed Sabretooth's
hair and lifted his head, looping the intestine around his neck
couple of times. Then he continued lower, tying his hands together
with the same horrendous manner. Sabretooth had stopped screaming
already, and just lay there, staring at him mutely.
"Why don't you take a bite, war hero? Show that little wench of
yours what you really are…" He suddenly grunted. That stopped Logan
for few seconds. He actually seemed to contemplate the offer.
"No thanks. I'm not sure if my mutation covers food poisoning."

"Wolverine, my dear boy… Be a good little soldier now, and let
Victor go, before I snap her pretty neck!" She tried not to scream,
but it was hard when Magneto wrapped his fingers around her neck.
Logan stood up and turned his head to their direction, tilting it,
and suddenly he reminded Marie about an old commercial. There had
been a dog, listening to an old gramophone.
"Marie?"
"I'm here. Please, do as he says…" Magneto cut off rest of her
sentence by covering her mouth with his hand. Logan started walking
closer.

He could hear her heartbeat. Smell vanilla and peppermint. Fear.
Same kind of mix he had smelt year ago. She was afraid all right.
And not just because of Magneto. She was afraid of him. What the
fuck was going on?
"Want to let her go now? It's me you're after, not her!" He shouted,
trying to determine her exact location. She was at ten meters range,
somewhere in front of him. He could hear Sabretooth struggling to
stand up somewhere behind him. Fucker was a fast healer. Faster than
him.
"We had a very interesting conversation before you arrived. I showed
her quite entertaining movie, too. I must say you have a very
peculiar diet…" Nausea gripped his stomach. She knew now. After this
he could just pack up and leave. There was no chance in hell she
would tolerate him in her eyes anymore.
"Just let her go. You don't need her anymore." Every word he could
pull out from Magneto would help him to locate them.

Just as it looked like Magneto would let her go, Logan roared and
leaped, crashing against him. His grip around her throat tightened
momentarily, then suddenly went slack and he fell to the floor,
Logan on top of him. Logan moved quickly, pressing his fist against
Magneto's forehead, and she could hear a sickening crunch when his
claws pierced old mutant's skull. Then it was over. Logan just lay
there. Sabretooth groaned and pulled himself little unsteadily to
his knees. Logan lifted his head and turned his face to his
direction.
"Stay down, Vic. I don't want to hurt you more." Surprisingly enough
bigger mutant obeyed, laying down and trying to sort out the mess
Logan had left his guts.

They sat outside, on his bike. He was cutting off sticky goop that
was covering his eyes.
"Is it true?" She asked, voice shivering.
"Yeah. True enough. I did it. That's why I have been at Xavier's so
often. Therapy."
"Magneto… He had some footage of you… He told me you are Xavier's
hitman."
"True. Xavier doesn't want to get his hands dirty. And I kind of owe
him. He put my head back in order." Logan had gotten his face
cleaned up, and turned face-to-face with her.
"You weren't in Canada?"
"No. I was in a padded cell at Xavier's." She turned her gaze away,
and he could smell her tears.
"As soon as we get home, I'll pack up and leave. I won't… I won't
come back, if that's what you want. You don't have to see me
anymore."

"If you ever need anything, call Xavier. He'll know how to contact
me." He was standing in her small kitchen, backpack slung carelessly
over his shoulder, grim lines on his face. She couldn't help
thinking how they were back at square one again. Both hurting, and
he was leaving.
"Can I keep this?" She lifted her gaze from the tablecloth. Ring she
had gotten him. They weren't officially married, but one sunny day
they had decided to make their union more noticeable. They had
gotten rings for each other. Pure silver, two hands clasped
together. She couldn't bring herself to actually say the words, so
she just nodded. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, stepped closer.
Placed a soft kiss on top of her head.
"Good bye, kid. I love you."

This wasn't happening. She closed her eyes when clawed hands tore her thighs a part. This wasn't happening. Strong legs were forcing
her to open up even more. Heavy weight of the man's body forced air
out of her lungs when he slammed in, cock hard and hot as a poker,
but it didn't matter. It really wasn't happening. And when it was
over, and man was licking tears from her face, thanking her, she
didn't really hear his voice, because he wasn't there. He wasn't
there before he left, locking the door behind him. Finally she was
able to curl to a tiny ball around her throbbing and aching body,
and curse him.

She had been on her way to the library, when suddenly, out of the
blue, motorcycle had roared past her. Her first impulse had been to
wave at the driver, but she had held her hand down. It wasn't Logan.
It would be Logan never again. So instead she had concentrated to
the cracks on the pavement under her feet. Sound of the motorcycle
had suddenly risen. Hard hand had tangled around her waist and she
had dropped her book bag, when driver had snatched her off from the
street, lifting her sitting securely between his legs. She hadn't
dared to fight, not in the speed bike had been going. They had
driven nearly an hour, out from the city; following rarely used
narrow dirt paths at the outskirts of it. Bike had finally stopped
in front of a ramshackle hut in the middle of nowhere. Driver had
gotten off from the bike and taken off his helmet, and it was time
to scream.

She woke up and grimaced. Blood and semen had acted like glue during
her short nap, smearing her thighs together. Her skin prickled when
she tried to move. Narrow cot creaked alarmingly when she rolled
down from it, on to her knees to the cold cement floor. There was a
bucket in the corner. No running water, just a bucket to take care
of her natural needs, and another bucket filled with cold water in
another corner, for drinking and washing up. Once a day he came,
brought food and used her, then left, leaving her behind locked
door. And somehow it all would have been much easier to bear if he
didn't thank her after every time.

"Relax, kid." She was sitting at Xavier's front porch on a swing.
Logan was there, sitting on a porch railing, leaning his back to the
support beam.
"How have you been?" She asked. Logan smiled his crooked smile.
"Not bad… But I heard you're not feeling so peachy." She shrugged
her shoulders.
"At least I'm getting it regular basis, now."
"Right. Why don't you drop him? I know you can."
"I don't want that creep rattling around in my head. It's enough
he's rattling around in other parts."
"Is he that good?" Logan asked.

She pulled herself out of that image and crawled to bucket to throw
up. Christ! She couldn't even daydream anymore! She leaned her head
to the wall and wiped her mouth groaning. Felt something hard and
cold against her cheek. Ring. Logan's ring. She hadn't had the guts
to take it away. She tore it off and threw it away. It clinked and
skittered over the floor, ending under the cot. She scrambled
hastily after it and fished it out, putting it back on her finger.
She wasn't ready for that. Not yet. She gazed towards the door.
Small patch of light filtered from under it. It was fools hope. She
had broken all her nails trying to shimmy it open. It was heavy and
surprisingly sturdy. Whole shack was made out of metal.

Evening came. Man came with food. She ate, and then man came again.
Distantly she was worried about the end result of all the coming he
did. She sure wasn't going to bare his child. She wasn't ready for
that. Only child she had ever even contemplated was Logan's, and now
even that little critter was out of her reach. No mini-wolverines
running around. No white picket fence. No comfortable wicker chair
on the front porch. No family dinners on Sunday afternoons. She
didn't dare to think what Logan's idea of a casserole would be.

"You know, I have been there. In this shack of yours. You were
there, too. Not the most pleasant hotel. Rude employees, crap for
food and housing arrangements leave room for improvement. But I made
it through. Kept thinking about you. Talked with you. In a way it
was the best week of my life. Just the two of us, no pesky
interruptions." Logan was back. Sitting in her cot, rubbing the
soles of her feet.
"You do realize you're not real?" She asked, moaning a bit when his
fingers found particularly sweet spot, just below her toes. Logan
chuckled.
"I'm as real as you want me to be. Turn around, I'll do your
calves." She did as he asked. Strong, warm fingers started to
massage her sore muscles.
"Why didn't you kill him?" She asked.
"Who? Victor? I didn't want to. He wasn't a bad guy per say, Magneto
had just gotten him confused."
"A bad guy? That guy is boning your wife on daily basis, and he's
just confused?" She couldn't believe her ears.
"I didn't say he was sane. And don't think even a minute this is
about you. It's me he would like to be doing. He's not doing this to
get his rocks off. He's doing this to humiliate me, like I
humiliated him back in that warehouse." All the while he was
talking, Logan's hands traveled higher.
"And again it's all about you…" she muttered almost sleepily.
"No. It's about us." His hands were kneading her buttocks now. Funny
how it didn't hurt. She knew she was black and blue from there, as
well as her lower back, too.

Angry growl of motorcycle disrupted her feel good session with
Logan. This time there was no food. This time man didn't touch her.
He just sat there, staring at her. Then he started to talk.
"I liked you better when you screamed." She didn't answer. She
didn't even blink. Maybe this time he would leave for good.
"Maybe it's time to tell the runt where to find you. I'm getting
tired of waiting him to find out himself. And he was supposed to be
the smart one…" Go ahead. Tell him. See if he comes.
"Won't… Come…" With Logan it was easy to talk, but talking with the
man hurt. Hurt her swollen and cracked lips. Every breath chafed
broken bones in her ribcage together. From the sound of her voice
man laughed.
"I heard you had a little disagreement. But he'll come." How come he
was so sure? Logan had made a promise. He wouldn't come unless she
asked him to.

"Rogue?" Voice was distantly familiar. Not Logan. Again it called
her. Suddenly Professor was there with her. There was somebody else
with him. She could feel cold, calculative mind.
"I have a lock on her. How do you want to do this?"
"Alone." Both of her guests disappeared. She didn't mind. After all,
Professor had been just a professor, distant figure behind his
enormous desk. He had never rubbed her back like Logan was doing
now, nimble fingers finding all the knotted muscles and nerve
endings.
"Where were we before we got so rudely interrupted?" She didn't
answer. He would pick up the conversation from where he wanted
anyway.
"Why the hell it has to be so hard? You, know, I haven't slept so
good lately. Not after I left. Xavier uses big words, and tells me I
have issues." This was interesting. Daydream was having issues. Did
that mean she was losing her mind?
"No. You're not losing your mind. You're surprisingly sane,
considering it has been almost six days already. At least you're
still talking."
"Yeah. But just for you. I don't like to talk with him. It hurts."
"Won't hurt much longer. I'm coming to get you out. Just sit tight
and keep on screaming when he wants you to.
"You're coming for me? Not that other?" Logan's fingers were
stroking her scalp now, and it felt so good.
"I had to ask him to help, but he has no claims over you. You can
stick with me, if you want to. Or I can leave, too. It's up to you
what happens after you get out." She turned on her back and took his
hands on her own, rubbing them between her palms. There was no ring
on his finger. He noticed her confusion and smiled sadly.
"I'm just a daydream. He's coming for you. He has the ring. You have
to make your decision, Marie."

Screams and sounds of scuffle from outside. Something heavy lands on
the door. Whole shack around her is shuddering, door gives up and
opens. Sabretooth falls in. Something dark stalks in after him. It
doesn't talk. It grabs him from the collar of his furred cloak and
pulls him on his feet. Cold metal flashes. Sabretooth is screaming
again. Scream ends to a gurgling sound, when Logan slits his throat,
almost severing his spine. Then he drags Sabretooth back out.

She can smell gasoline. She follows them with numb legs. Logan has
hacked off Sabretooth's legs and arms, and is pouring gasoline all
over him.
"I told you to stay down. Should have listened," he barks, leaning
close enough that bigger mutant can hear him. Then he backs off and
digs a booklet of matchsticks and a cigar from his pocket. Lights
the cigar and throws still burning matchstick to still breathing
pile of severed limbs and organs. Gasoline lights up instantly.

"Scott waits there. I'll stay and make sure this bastard burns," he
says, pointing towards dark SUV parked to a small distance from the
pyre. Stench of burning flesh caresses her when she takes couple
steps, closing the distance between them and embraces him.
"I want you to come home, Logan."

She had been crying a lot lately. Always in the night, behind closed bathroom door. She probably thought he didn't know. Didn't notice
when her body suddenly tensed in the middle of a dream, and she
bolted from the bed. Walked calmly in complete darkness and closed
the door silently behind her before switching the light on.

He hadn't interrupted her sessions. Not once. If she needed him, she
would come to him. Now he was severely tempted to go after her.
Scent of her blood wafted from the small wet patch on the sheet
where she had lain just few minutes ago. He reached his hand and
brushed the patch with his fingertips lightly. Still warm. Marie and
another, faint but distinctive marker. Victor. A month. She had
managed to carry nearly a month. Small wonder considering her
condition.

He sat up and swung his legs to floor. It wouldn't hurt to ask if
she needed anything.

She wasn't crying anymore. If anything, she looked only relieved
when he stepped in to bathroom. She stood in front of full-length
mirror, naked as a day she was born, hands placed over her lower
abdomen. Small streaks of blood colored her inner thighs. She didn't
even flinch when he stepped behind her, cupping her breasts with his
large palms and pulling her against his warm chest.
"Feeling better now?" He asked. She reached with her hands and
pulled his face against her neck, where he could smell her scent
alone, smiling softly, tears still streaking her cheeks.
"Is it wrong? To feel this good?" She asked. He nibbled her jugular
lightly with his lips.
"No. It's over now. Don't fret over what you feel. Just feel it," he
murmured, caressing her abdomen, feeling the slight constrictions
inside of her. Wondered briefly if there was something seriously
wrong when sight of his mate getting a miscarriage made him only
unbelievable horny. Discarded that thought.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I have early morning tomorrow."

That had been two weeks ago. Ever since she had gotten more
distressed every day. She was jittery and nervous around him,
falling stuff, stumbling over things, blabbering nonsense about this
or that friend, reeking of arousal and fertility to high heavens.
Nights were worst, when she lay next to him, cuddled against him,
and dreamed. Skin glistening from sweat, hands caressing his body,
soft moans escaping from her lips when she rubbed her sex against
his thigh, smearing him with her juices. He didn't know how much
longer he could take it without taking her.

He missed sex. Just being inside of her. Feeling the warmth, and her
body wrapped around him completely, but he was insecure of what to
do. How to approach the issue after what she had gone through. His
own experience at POW camp had left him angry and vengeful. He
hadn't gotten his revenge. It had gnawed him, until one night they
had brought a prisoner to the tent next to his. When his mechanic
had left with his drinking buddies, leaving him seemingly asleep, he
had sneaked to prison tent. Another destroyer lay there, shackled
from head to toe, mutilated beyond recognition. When he had
approached him, his eyes had opened and surprisingly coherent gaze
had locked to his face.
"Do your worst." He had put him out of his misery quickly and
painlessly, leaving the body for guards to find.

He had gotten his closure that night. He was worried what would
happen if he gave in to his urges with Marie. He didn't want her to
associate Sabretooth's brutality to their relationship. Or what was
left of that relationship. It was fragile enough as it was.

"I need this. I need you." She had him cornered, his back against
the cold tiled bathroom wall, hands braced on both sides of his
head, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Her lips were hovering
only inches from his, eyes searching his, pupils fully dilated.
"Marie, I…" She didn't let him finish his sentence. Her small hand
grabbed a firm hold from his hair, yanking his head backwards,
baring his neck. Her teeth latched on to his throat none too gently,
nearly breaking the skin. He hissed when tears welled up to his
eyes. She was grinding her crotch against his, tearing his shirt
open.
"Either you give it willingly, or I'll take it…" It wasn't a threat.
It was a promise. Scent of her arousal was strong enough to nearly
suffocate him. She managed to tear his shirt away from his shoulders
with her other hand. Other still held his head on a death grip. Bite
mark on his throat was slowly fading. Beast in him rearing its ugly
head. And suddenly it broke free, howling in triumph.

She was flat against the wall, panting, scratching and biting, blunt
teeth and nails drawing blood. With a swift move he had divested her
from her pants and opened his. He was buried to the hilt inside of
her throbbing core, teeth locked firmly around her shoulder. He
could taste her blood and arousal. Taste of them spurred the beast
to continue. She was whimpering and convulsing, pulling him deeper
with every stroke, until he was sure with next one he would skewer
her uterus. She was coming again. He had lost count of how many
times orgasm had already rippled through her system. And every time
she screamed and pleaded.
"Give it to me… Give it to me now… Make me yours again…"

His bones were melting. All organs turning to pure liquid. Brain,
guts, muscles, even adamantium mixing together. He was dying, and at
the same time living stronger than ever before. Shy smile on her
face, soft fingers on his face, coaxing him through it all, pulling
out last vestiges of darkness, life and death still residing in his
body.

He was shivering. Aftershock. He couldn't make himself move from
where he had collapsed. He knew he had to be crushing her, but he
couldn't make his body obey. He cracked open his eyes and met her
gaze. It was serious, but warmth had returned to her eyes. She was
practically glowing inner light.
"I think we are going to make it."