Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet by Artemis2050
Logan didn't see her at all the next day, or the day after that. But on the third day she was in the dining hall, sitting with some of her friends, even smiling occasionally at something that was said, as her friends hovered around her protectively. And a few days after that he saw her at Jean's office door; he stayed down the hallway until he'd seen her knock and go in, and he didn't leave until she came out hours later.
Marie didn't see him there, but Jean did when she left a few minutes later. Her eyes were red when she came up to him wordlessly and put her arms around him. He accepted the embrace silently. Jean never said a word, but she gave him a sad smile before she touched his face briefly and moved away. He would have given anything to know what Marie had told her, but he didn't ask.
That seemed to be the deal now.
The next day Marie borrowed one of the Mansion's fleet of cars and he watched her drive away. She hadn't taken a suitcase, but she hadn't confided in him either, so he just skulked around the grounds until he saw the blue Acura return, some hours later. He watched as she unloaded some bags from the passenger side before returning to the house, and he breathed a mental sigh of relief.
She wouldn't buy new gloves if she wasn't planning to live to wear them.
It went on like that. She didn't seek him out, but she didn't actively avoid him, either, so he followed suit. It didn't seem like there was much more he could do.
She never spoke to him, and after a while he stopped waiting for that. She didn't seem angry now, but her withdrawal was almost as bad.
He saw her sometimes with her friends, with Jean. It made him ache with the loss of the companionship he'd come to count on, because he figured that was gone forever. One day he saw her with Bobby Drake, in the garden, standing close beside him, and he saw Bobby reach out to take her hand, and she didn't pull away.
He almost left that day, because if she found solace there or anywhere he wanted her to have it, but damned if he could watch. But he didn't. I don't mean for good, she'd told him, and he held onto that, held onto the hope that there was still more to be said between them, because he had to. It was all he had left.
He watched, and he found things to keep him relatively busy during the day, and he woke from the unrestful sleep he fell into at odd hours of the morning gasping and sweating, reeling with images from new nightmares that had replaced the old. There was a difference. He never woke with the claws springing free any more. Even in dreams, that release was denied him.
He watched Marie, and he knew Jean Grey was watching him. She offered, more than once, to listen if he wanted to talk, or to suggest someone else. He turned her down, as politely as he could at first and then more brusquely, and finally she didn't ask any more. He didn't need anyone to explain anything and he damn well wasn't asking anyone's opinion. He figured he'd know when his obligations were over.
Marie didn't return to classes. He knew she was studying because he saw her in the library; she was probably working with the Professor or the other teachers privately, and one day he heard Jean talking with her there, discussing other schools, other colleges. He got as far as pulling his old knapsack out from under his bed that time. But November and December came and went, and she didn't leave.
He went up to the roof sometimes, and though her scent was still there it was fainter, and there was no longer constantly the stale scent of beer and cigarette smoke clinging to her when she passed.
Bobby left for California in January, on an internship to Stanford. She stayed.
In March, Logan was working in the garage when he heard her coming, and he stood up, wiping the grease from his hands. As soon as he saw her, he knew it wasn't an accident that she was there.
“Hi.”
He nodded a greeting.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure.” He put the towel down.
“It wasn't just the government, was it?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”
“I knew it had to be--personal.” Her voice was stiff with tension. “When they didn't want you to do anything for them.”
“Yeah.” There wasn't much more than that he could say. “It was personal.”
“How did she know?” She came a step closer. “That it would work.”
He exhaled a breath. “Wouldn't have to be a genius to figure it out. She'd tried to get to me before, using other people. She saw what worked best.”
Marie--no, Rogue, he reminded himself--bit her lip and looked down. Then she looked up at him and gave a quick, sad smile. “Yeah.” She turned to go, and it took everything he had not to try and stop her. She hesitated just for a moment. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
She didn't look at him when she spoke. “For answering.” She started to move again, and paused for one more second. “For still being here.” And then she was gone, and he had to listen as her footsteps faded away.
He kept expecting the dreams to fade, but they didn't, and he just tried not to remember them when he saw her.
It was a week later that there was a knock on his door, long past midnight. He was lying on his bed, but he hadn't bothered to even undress for the night--he'd already known he wasn't going to be able to sleep. He went to the door and found her there.
“Did I wake you up?”
“No.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath and then gave him the least glimmer of a smile. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He started to step back, opening the door wider for her to come in, but she shook her head. She hesitated, then held out a hand and he took it; her silk-covered fingers slid against his palm and tightened over his hand. “Come on.”
He let her lead him out of the room, up the stairs and back through the quiet upper floors until they reached the attic doors. She pushed them open and he saw that she'd already been out there; it was a chilly night and a blanket lay on the roof where she'd left it. She let go of his hand and went to sit down on the blanket; she patted a space next to her and he settled himself beside her--not too close.
“So I've been thinking.” Marie kept her eyes straight ahead. “About what you said that night.”
“What about it?” He remembered it as though it had been yesterday.
“Did you mean that?”
Logan wasn't in any doubt about what part of it she meant. “I've never lied to you. Rogue.” Her mouth twisted wryly at that.
“All right, I was being overdramatic with that.” Her hands were twisting in front of her again, and he really wanted to reach out and stop that tormented motion, but he didn't. “You said--they wrecked that.” She sounded nervous as all hell.
“If you can't stand to be in the same room with me, yeah, they did.”
“What about you?” Her voice was shaky.
Logan put his hand down over both of hers. She didn't pull away; in fact, he felt her fingers close over his. “Never changed the way I felt about you.” He felt her hand tighten its grip. “Never will.”
“You just mean you don't hate me.”
“No, I mean it didn't make a damn bit of difference to the way I feel about you. I wish things had been different, because I want to get past the shit that was happening and fix this. Just not if it hurts you. I mean, I know you can't exactly forget it, but...” It took him a second to say the rest. “I mean I love you.”
“Oh.” Just that one syllable. He searched her face for some clue to what she was thinking, but there was nothing to read there. But after a minute she silently slid a little closer to him on the blanket; he put his other arm around her back and she rested her head on his shoulder.
They sat quietly that way for a while. All Logan could feel was immense relief. She wanted this much from him, at least. It was something. He bit back any shred of disappointment he might have felt at her silence. That didn't matter--not as long as she was all right.
“It's not a crush,” she said suddenly. She raised her head and looked up at him. “I don't think it's been a crush for a long time. I think…” He felt his lungs stop working as he waited for her to finish that sentence. “But I can't touch people, and I always figured that was the end of that.”
“That--that's not even close,” he managed. “That's not even--”
“You're the most physical man I've ever seen,” she interrupted. “And I know what you like. I've seen it, Logan.” She tapped her head. Her voice was tight, like it hurt her to talk. “You can't have that with me.”
“That--it doesn't matter.”
“It does. They couldn't make me do everything I told them, you know. You want me to tell you the rest? You want me to tell you about the ones they couldn't play out because--”
There was only one way to end this. Words weren't going to cut it; not his words, anyway. Logan leaned forward and captured her lips with his own, tightening his arm around her so she couldn't pull back, although she tried to. It took a surprisingly long time before he felt the pull begin, or maybe it was just that her mouth opened under his and he felt like that moment was stretching into a thousand years. He reluctantly pulled back before the draw was too great. He waited a few seconds for her to assimilate whatever she'd seen.
“If I can have you, none of the rest of that means shit,” he said bluntly. “It's nothing we can't work around. You think needing something like this to make it happen--” He pulled the thin scarf she wore around her neck free and let it trail through his fingers. “You think that would make a difference?” He shook his head. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” she said, and it sounded desperate, like she was clinging to straws. But her eyes didn't look empty any more, they looked alive, watchful. Hopeful, even.
“You won't. Not that way.” He didn't know what she'd gotten from his mind this time; didn't care, even. Let her know it all, he didn't give a shit. The she reached up and took his face between her gloved hands, and he wondered if she'd seen that, his fantasy of her hands in silk or leather moving over him--
She kissed him again, and he tasted the beer she'd been drinking and the last cigarette she'd smoked, the warm sweet taste that was just her. He had time to savor all that before she pulled away again, and this time he hadn't felt the drag of her mutation at all. He leaned forward, pushing her back down onto the blanket, until she was lying on her back under him and he felt her hands come up to rest against his chest as he dipped his head close to her neck, barely brushing the skin with his lips. He could feel her blood pulsing just below the surface, feel her throat move as she swallowed.
This was it, he knew it. If they could find a way past this--he could make her accept his touch, he knew that much. He could make her stay with him.
But if she didn't stop being afraid of herself, he'd never have her, not really, and he knew that would tear them both apart. If she slipped back into her secrets she'd stay in that veiled world forever, hiding behind her skin and her thoughts.
And it wasn't just her mutation. That had let her see into his own dark soul and she'd never been afraid of any part of him, even now. She was scared of what was inside her own skin, of what she hadn't wanted him to see. He was certain, now, that the reason she hadn't wanted him to touch her wasn't just that she was afraid to hurt him, and it wasn't revulsion either. She was afraid to find out what he thought about her.
“We can have that,” he said quietly. “I promise, baby. Every way that counts. Let me prove that to you. I love you so much, darlin'. Don't let that go.” He heard her breath catch, a whimper in her throat quickly choked back. “That's the truth, Marie. Hold onto that.”
“I love you too.” Her arms went around his neck and held him there. “I do. Just as much. More.” She moved under him, pressing up against him, and he breathed in her scent like it was the last breath of oxygen on earth. “Don't leave.”
“Never wanted to.” He placed gentle kisses along her neck, light and quick. “Not unless you were with me.” He sat back, finally, resting on one elbow and looking down at her. “You get that?” He really wasn't sure how it worked. He'd never exactly asked. Hadn't been sure he wanted to know--and damned if it hadn't been for the same reasons as her. He'd never much like having his secrets revealed for him either.
“I got that.” The big brown eyes were warm and alive now, and her hand ran down his arm, tightened over his bicep. “Why didn't you tell me before?”
His brow knit a little. “I would've.” He wished to hell he had. It would have been different, if there had already been something between them. It would have made all the difference. “It's just…you're so young, and I'm--” She put a hand to his lips.
“You're just Logan,” she said. “That's all.” He didn't quite know what she meant by that, but he forced himself to hold still, to wait, to let her do this in her own time. He lay back on the blanket with her, and she shifted so that she was lying with her head resting on his shoulder again, looking up at the stars. “Want to go in?” she asked after a while.
“Sure.” He wasn't sure whether or not they were done for the night, but all he could do was to follow her lead, and at the head of the stairs she stopped him, pressed him against the wall in a tight embrace.
“I used to dream about it,” she whispered against his chest. “I used to dream you'd let me touch you like that. I used to imagine what it would be like if I could do that.” Logan could feel how much it still cost her to make that admission out loud. He lifted her chin and kissed her quickly.
“Yeah. Me too.” He met her eyes. “You can have anything you want from me, darlin'.”
“You already know what I want.” Her tongue crept out and ran over her lip; he didn't think she was doing it on purpose, but it was incredibly erotic. “What do you want?”
“I want…” He wanted to be one of those poetry-spouting twerps for just five minutes, because god knew he'd already said more to her than he'd ever thought he was capable of. Although maybe that wasn't what she needed. Maybe she was as tired of her enforced role as the untouchable good girl as he was of the playing the noble protector, and maybe--just maybe--what she really needed to hear was something that would burn right through her. Something that would burn away the shadows, or at least show them for the ghosts they really were.
And that he could do, because dark places inside that reached for the light he understood. “I want to strip you naked and keep you that way for about a week, for starters.” Her eyes widened, but he didn't stop. He ran his hands up her arms and took hold of her shoulders, backing her up step by step. “I want to taste you and feel your breasts under me and I want your mouth on me, because I haven't stopped thinking about that for more than an hour straight in the last six months.” Her back was against the wall now and he held her there.
He knew every shift of her muscles, every nuance of her scent. He was looking for fear, anger, withdrawal. It wasn't there. “I want to feel how much you want me and I want to fuck you hard enough to make you forget everything else but that. I want you. All of you.” He could see her pupils dilating, her breath coming more rapidly, as he spoke, but his other senses told him what that response meant. He'd smelled it on her before, even if he'd never let himself acknowledge what it really was.
Desire.
Her hands closed around handfuls of his shirt. “Let me stay with you. Tonight.”
'Let her?' Christ, he wanted to wrap her in silk and eat her alive. And he planned on making that happen, sooner rather than later. Maybe he should tell her that. “Yeah. And don't think you're leaving tomorrow.”
He infused the sentence with just the hint of a growl and her lips curved up in a smile that promised the world and a bit over. “Okay.” He gentled his touch then, slid his hands up to tangle in her hair as he kissed her for as long as he dared.
“I'll make it good for you,” he pledged when he'd reluctantly pulled away. “I swear to God.”
“I know.” The tip of that tongue crept out again and this time it was damn well on purpose. “You already have.”
Finis
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Author's Chapter Notes:
"Et lux in tenebris lucet, et tenabrae eam non comprehenderunt."
Thanks to all for reading.
Thanks to all for reading.
Chapter End Notes:
Et lux in tenebris lucet, et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt. “And the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.”
The Last Gospel (John 1:1-14)
The Last Gospel (John 1:1-14)