"You don’t know it’s like not to be able to touch…"
Those were the words that hit him in the gut like a sledge hammer. He did know. The walls crumbled like they’d never been built. He knew what it was like not to be able to touch her. What it felt like to be able to see and not touch. What it felt like to know the fantasies that came in the dark of night had to be wrong. What it felt like to purposefully turn his attention onto another woman to distract himself.
He closed his eyes, suddenly conflicted. Even if his feelings for Jean had started that way, they’d become very real with little encouragement. Her death… her ‘resurrection’… everything since had rocked him like little else in his life. But if he was honest with himself, truly honest, he’d have to admit the reason it was so easy to turn his attention to Jean is because he knew he could never really have her. She was ‘safe’ that way. Marie had never been safe. From the moment she’d shot back, “What kind of name is Wolverine,” it had begun. He tried to ignore it, cast her in the part of little sister, but deep down he never believed it. Still, she was sixteen. Sixteen. And aside from his predilection for older, experienced women, he wasn’t a fucking pedophile.
But now… he looked at the woman standing so close. Still young, but in no way a child. There was a maturity beyond years as well. War did that to people though. And now she was seriously contemplating letting them ‘cure’ her. Hell, they’d probably kill her outright. There was no way he was going to let it happen. She was railing at him for accusing her of wanting to do it for ‘some boy’, but her words didn’t register. With a low growl he stepped forward and jerked her into his arms.
“Shut up, Marie,” he said bluntly, then jammed his hand into her hair and kissed her. Kissed her hard, his tongue thrusting into her mouth and coaxing hers to into action before the pull of her mutation hit him. He pushed through it, continuing until she wrenched herself away, eyes wide and chest pounding.
“Logan… god. What… what are you doing?” she asked, staring at him with those big, wide eyes. He watched her lift a shaking hand to her lips as she stared at him and knew he had her attention. Good. He stalked her, backing her up against the door and kissing her again. A knowing, smug feeling flowed through him as he felt her melt against him before once again, her mutation flared to life. Again he hung on until he heard her whimper against him, fear evident in the tone. He reluctantly pulled away.
“You are not,” he panted, shaking her to punctuate his words, “going to take that goddamn ‘cure’. What you’re going to do is learn to control it. Xavier’s never pushed you, so I am.” He lifted a hand to her cheek and purposefully held it there until he felt the shock. “You’re going to learn to control it, even if it kills me.” She gaped at him soundlessly. He grinned. “You and I both know you’ll never let that happen.”
And that is how Rogue learned to control her mutation.
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Story Notes:
Okay, totally nervous because I've only lurked and never posted before. But I saw a clip from X-3 and the bunnies ran wild. The set up is Rogue talking to Logan about taking the 'cure'. The first line in italics, in case it isn't obvious, is her comment to him from the movie. *bites nails*