Time and time again he had told himself that attachment wasn't an option. Not for someone that fought for a living, and traveled from place to place in search of everything he had lost, and nothing that he had ever hoped to gain. There wasn't anything more than solitude for him, and he had planned on keeping things that way until she had come into the picture. She being Rogue, the resident symbol of all that was untouchable in Xavier's School for the Gifted.
The Wolverine had always liked a good challenge.
There had been a time when Rogue had told him that they were just alike, two souls that had lost their way, seeking something that wasn't ever going to be found. They were the untouchable ones; he by choice, and her by misfortune. It had been that statement that had driven him into madness. He would be the first to admit that.
Through the months that he had stayed in the mansion, he and Rogue had grown inseparable. It was only to be expected that he would break the only rule that he had ever followed. But when the attachment became more than just friendship, his instincts had told him to run as far away as he could get, and make it there as quickly as possible.
The Wolverine never listened to anyone, not even his own conscience.
It was always the memory of the morning he had left that brought on the guilt. The moment when his eyes had opened and his soul had shattered. Running had been the only option at the time. It had been the only option in the past as well.
Quietly he had packed his possessions in the dim light of the oncoming dawn, hoping that his movements wouldn't wake her. He knew that if her eyes opened, she would plead with him to stay, maybe even cry. He hated to see her cry. And he knew that it would be his undoing to be the one that made her cry. Things would be easier if he left without saying goodbye. Without letting her know that the one night of control she had been saving hadn't been spent in vain.
But he had still let her down, and for that, he would eternally be damned.
Cursing himself for getting lost in the emotion, he brushed the snow from his shoulders and took a very difficult step inside the mansion's front door, hoping to remain unseen for the time. Luck never dealt him a winning hand, and Scott, of all people, was there to greet him.
"What are you doing here, Logan?"
Logan adjusted the bag on his shoulder and fixed a stare somewhere past Scott's head. He wanted to avoid making eye contact out of fear of losing his composure. Breaking down in front of Cyclops would only make him feel worse than he already did.
"I don't know," he answered in earnest. "Maybe something was pulling me back."
"There's nothing here for you," Scott said, trying his best to remain in control. "You wore out your welcome a long time ago."
"I know that," Logan replied. "I don't expect any kind of redemption for what I did."
"Good. You know you're not going to find any. Not here."
"Look, I know I was wrong in runnin', but you don't gotta rub it in my face. I've spent enough time doin' that to myself."
"Have you?"
Logan and Scott turned from their anger and hatred of each other to focus on the voice that had drifted down the stairs. Rogue descended the steps until she became equal in height with Logan. Looking at Scott, she motioned for him to leave, that there were things she and Logan had to discuss that he couldn't be there for.
Waiting until Cyclops was gone, Rogue turned to her former lover and looked at him truly for the first time in a very long while. When she spoke, her voice was soft and unsure. "Why'd you come back?"
"There wasn't anything left out there for me, none of the excitement like there used to be before."
"That's a lousy reason, Logan."
"It's the only one I got."
"Really?"
Logan looked away from her eyes. He wouldn't admit that the guilt had driven him back to her. The Wolverine didn't crawl and beg for forgiveness. Especially not from a woman.
"Yeah."
Rogue turned from Logan and focused her attention on the snow that was beginning to pile up on the lawn outside. It had only been a few hours since the weather had started. Rogue had always liked winter in her youth, but not anymore. She despised the season with a biting hatred. The winter brought back memories that she wanted to forget. Memories of times spent in mourning, agony, and despair.
"Today is the third anniversary," Rogue said quietly, the sentiment not lost in her voice. "The third anniversary of the day you left me. The day you left us."
"I didn't want to," he said remorsefully. "Leaving us was the-"
"Ah hadn't planned on ever seein' you again," Rogue cut in. "To me you were dead, and you might as well have not existed for him."
Logan looked up sharply at Rogue.
"Ah cried the day he was born," she said, biting back tears. "If it hadn't been for the Professor, Patrick might have been an orphan."
"No," Logan said, his voice trembling in fear and disbelief. "We don't-"
"We don't what, Logan?" Rogue asked vehemently. "We don't have a son? Well you're wrong! He's just like you, Logan. Just – like – you. He's got the same stubborn attitude, and he even runs when he gets scared."
"That's a bad habit," Logan said. "You should break him of it."
"Maybe his father would be better suited for that job."
"Can I see him?"
"Ah don't see why not. But don't go expectin' him to know who you are."
"Doesn't matter. I wanna see him."
Without another word, Rogue ascended the staircase, her footsteps tracking the way in which she had come. Logan followed quietly behind, the sound of his boots echoing against the wooden floors. He remembered these halls well, the sounds and smells of them. But as he came to stand in front of Marie's bedroom door, more than just her smell came to him. There was the unmistakable scent of a toddler.
His toddler.
"Are you comin' in, or do you want an invitation?"
The room was nothing like he remembered it from the night he had left. Back then it had been shrouded in darkness and devoid of any clutter on the floor or furniture. Back then his Marie had the time to be organized, unlike now, as she had been raising a child.
There were toys and clothes all over the floor, and he tripped as he tried to step over them. It was a futile attempt, and in the end it was decidedly better to just find a place and sit. It was hard enough to do that, and out of lack of anywhere else, he chose the end of the bed.
"Where is he?" Logan asked.
"Ah was doin' some work earlier, so Ah sent him off to play with Kitty. Gimme a second and Ah'll go get him."
Logan nodded to Marie's back as she walked out the door in search of their child. He took the time to survey the room, to look at his son's belongings. It was clear that Patrick enjoyed playing with action figures. There were superheroes strewn about the room, piles here and there. The television on the far wall was crowded with DVD boxes, all depicting colorful scenes of cartoons. The TV itself was on mute, an action cartoon playing on the screen.
In the hallway, Logan heard the approaching sound of footsteps. His heart quickened in those few moments before Marie came walking back through the door. Much to his disappointment, there was no child in her arms.
"Where-?"
Looking at the doorway, Logan saw a child peek his head playfully around the corner. There was only the smallest glimpse of the child, but Logan already knew he was in over his head.
"Come inside," Marie cooed softly at her son.
Looking around the corner again, Patrick glanced up at his mother, waiting for some sign that it was really all right to come in. She smiled at him, and he took a few unsteady steps in the door. Noticing Logan sitting on the bed, he immediately ran to Marie and hid behind her.
Logan watched the whole scene with a stupid grin on his face. He wanted to hold the child, but he was too afraid to take action on the impulse. Marie felt his distress. Leaning down, she picked Patrick up and carried him over to Logan. The boy wrapped his arms around Marie's neck, not wanting to leave the safety and comfort that she provided.
"Patrick, this is Logan," Marie said softly into his ear while leaning down to hand her son over to his father. "Don't be scared."
Logan didn't know whether she was talking to him or their son.
It was Patrick who made the first move, standing up on Logan's lap and touching the scruff on his father's cheeks. There was wonder in the child's eyes, almost as if he somehow knew that Logan was important to him. There was an intense flooding feeling behind Logan's eyes as Patrick continued his inspection. He was determined not to cry in front of the boy. Weakness was not the first impression he wanted to give his son. He wanted to be a source of strength and stability. He just hoped that it would be enough to make up for all of the years of guilt, if not for him, then for Marie.
"Ah don't blame you."
Turning his head sharply toward Marie, he raised an eyebrow in question.
"You were only doing what you thought was safe, and Ah don't blame you for it."
"You should," he said, smoothing down the hair on Patrick's head.
"For a while Ah was bitter toward everyone, especially after finding out about Patrick. Then that bitterness turned into hatred, and after some rough times Ah realized that if Ah were you, Ah would have done the same thing."
"Marie-"
"Tell me, Logan," she breathed. "Will you stay?"
Looking down at the bright green eyes of his son, Logan made the biggest decision of his life.
"Yes, for the both of you."
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Story Notes:
Not much to say about this story. It just kinda came from m'head, and here it sits for you to read. And I hope you do.