The smell of tobacco and leather barely reached Rogue as she sat hunched over on her bed. Deep in her heart she knew she could never be what anyone wanted…she didn’t belong to anyone but a love that didn’t exist.
Shivering at the chill that racked her body she hunched over a bit more and sighed. “The last is best.” She whispered sadly.
“Is it?” The low, familiar growl from behind her made her jump but she didn’t turn.
“Yes.”
Shaking his head Logan settled next to her on the bed and stared at the wall. “Why?”
“Because you know what you’re gonna get. Because you know that after you there’s nothing left.”
“But there is.” Logan whispered softly, his voice holding some mysterious note. “Just because you’re last doesn’t mean you’re forgotten, doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
“I’d rather be the first.” Rogue replied sadly. “At least then you know that you’re gonna get something. That there’s something for you to have.”
Logan nodded and leaned against her shoulder. “What if being the last meant that you could be everything?”
Rogue turned her head and looked at him. There was a dark look in his eyes, a bracing for something and she wondered about it. Smiling sadly she shrugged. “I’m last Logan, always gonna be. I know what it means.”
“Do you?” Logan shifted uneasily. He hated talking, hated exposing himself like that especially when words could be twisted, turned to mean something else entirely than what he wanted them to. “You want to know what I think about it?”
Rogue shrugged. “Don’t take too long. Gotta get back to the party.”
“Last means that whatever comes from here on out is mine. Someone may have come before me but no one will come after me. There will be nothing to run from, no ghosts, no shadows that cling to my steps. No past could outshine the future and as long as I’m last I know that.”
Frowning Rogue rose and paced to the window. “But what about what came before you? Why do you want to walk where another’s been?”
Logan moved over to her, crowding her into the wall. “Because what came before me doesn’t matter. Because what I want is more important to me than the memories.”
Staring into his eyes Rogue wondered what he was talking about. He didn’t know what she was talking about, that much she knew. “I can’t fill another’s shoes Logan. I know that.”
Logan nodded his hands already creeping up to wrap around her waist. “You wouldn’t be. They couldn’t fill your shoes.”
With a frown at his words Rogue pulled back from him, pushing herself even further into the wall. His expression revealed nothing, there was no indications that he knew what she was talking about, and yet there was something there that sent a thrill racing through her.
Hazel eyes usually so warm and caring toward her were darkened to nearly black with lust, with desire, with dare she believe love? There was none of the fear that went with anyone else standing so close to her.
“Logan what…” She swallowed harshly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t know…”
“I don’t care if I’m the first Marie,” he whispered softly against her throat. “As long as I’m the last.”
“First? Last?” Rogue gulped, unease growing within her. “Jean sent you didn’t she?” She demanded pushing against him as her eyes burnt with unshed tears. “I trusted her not to tell you and she runs right to you and…”
“And nothing. I haven’t talked to Jeannie today. Shh.” Logan soothed seeing the pain in her eyes. “This has nothing to do with anyone of the fuckers downstairs. This has to do with me and you and what we want.”
“What is that?”
“To be last.” Logan whispered kissing her temple through her hair. “If it’s what you want, if you want to be the last in my bed, in my life…you know where to find me.”
Gasping, her hands clenched into fists Rogue watched him disappear out of her bedroom. Could it be that simple? Could she handle the life she wanted? Did she have the strength to walk down the hall and go to him?
With a glance down at her hands she swallowed and blinked. A lone tear tracked down her face and dripped onto the silk of her blouse a moment before she pushed away from the wall.
Logan glanced up at the sound of his door opening and closing. He watched in silence as the woman he wanted walked toward him, a fire in her eyes he loved.
“I won’t be a replacement for Trixy, or Jean, or whoever it is in your fantasy!” Rogue hissed glaring at him.
“No. No replacements.” Logan replied. “No memories between us. No one else in our bed!”
“And in forty years? In sixty?”
Logan let her approach him, watched her crawl across his bed to pin him in place with her weight. “No one. Not now, not then, not ever. First and last for both of us.”
“First?” Rogue frowned. “What do you mean?”
“First one to love. First one to touch our soul. It doesn’t matter who touched you before me, it just matters that its me now.”
Rogue glanced down then back at him. “There’s a bit of a miscommunication going around Logan. Regardless of what you’ve heard there’s never been anyone in my body. Does that change things?”
Logan smirked and shrugged. “No. As long as I’m the last nothing changes it.”
“You would be. I’ll never willingly give anyone else what’s yours.” Rogue whispered staring at him. “And I won’t let you get away with giving anyone else what belongs to me.”
Logan nodded slowly. “So? Life in general population or solitary confinement?”
“What do you want?”
“Life with you.”
Biting her lip Rogue considered what he was saying. Deep inside she knew what he meant and with that knowledge came the strength to accept it. She would be the last in his life, in his bed just as he would be the last in hers.
She smirked at him. “Life with me it is then.”
From in the hallway Jean leaned on the wall and smiled at the contentment coming from within Logan’s room. It appeared that they had what they wanted and she was glad.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A companion piece to Not the First but the Last