I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion- I have shudder’d at it.

I shudder no more.

I could be martyr’d for my religion

Love is my religion

And I could die for that.

I could die for you.

Most people assume I don’t believe in God. They’d be wrong. Belief I’ve got plenty of. It’s the faith I’m having a problem with. Comes with the territory of being pumped full of burning liquid metal and having all your memories wiped. It’s the second part that pisses me off the most. Cause the physical shit I can recover from. But having my past stolen from me?

That just ain’t fucking right.

If I was some pansy ass punk, I’d whine and bitch and moan about how it’s all God’s fault and why does my life have to suck so bad, blah, blah, blah. As it stands, I’m doing well and fine just ignoring him. Seems to be all he’s ever done for me, so it’s only fair.

Fair.

Huh. As if the world gives a fuck what’s fair. Chuck tries to instill that sort of moral bullshit in the kids at the Institute, but that’s all it is: bullshit. Because when it gets down to it, humans are just a bunch of greedy, selfish assholes. A fact I drill into all the students fortunate enough (or unfortunate, depending on the way you look at it) to take my combat training course.

Scooter wanted to call it self-defense, but I shot that down real quick. The way I see it, you only use self-defense if you’ve already been attacked. And letting someone get that close to you is pretty fucking stupid. So I teach the runts how to spot a threat and quickly dispose of it (without using lethal force, since that was the one point Chuck wasn’t willing to compromise on).

And even if One-Eye isn’t man enough to admit it, the kids are better off for it. Shit, we all are. Because even ‘Ro mentioned to me the other day that she feels safer about leaving the students alone whenever we go on missions knowing that the older ones can throw down in a pinch.

Yeah. I said ‘we.’ Figured if I couldn’t cage fight anymore (something about it setting a bad example), then I had to get my kicks somewhere. It’s also a damn good way to make sure Marie never ends up in the line of fire. Cause when I promised to take care of her, to protect her at all cost, I meant it. No matter what.

It started off as just the big shit. Namely, the Statue of Liberty incident. She needed my healing. I needed her to live. It was a win-win situation.

But ever since I got back from Alkali Lake (which was a big fucking waste of time – odd, how time never seemed to matter until I had someone else to think of), things have started to change. It’s not just the big shit anymore. It’s everything. She got a cold a couple months back and I reached over without even thinking about it. Woke up a few minutes later to her smoking one of my cigars and rolling her eyes, but the small smile on her face told me I’d done good.

And just like that, it stopped being just the physical stuff that I’d protect her from. Marie gets stressed out over school work, I come up with an excuse to drag her away from the Institute for a few hours. Some snooty girl (you’d be surprised how many of them there are at Chuck’s place) throws a backhanded compliment at her about her powers, I make a fool out of ‘em during class. And if it’s a guy that hurts her… well, I hope they have faith in God. Cause they’ll be making peace with Him real soon.

And so will the asshole that’s responsible for Marie’s current state.

She’s curled up in a tight ball on my bed, which is odd enough since she hasn’t stepped foot in this room since I’ve been back. What’s even stranger is the fact that she’s crying. Marie ain’t like most girls. She’s not the crying type. She’s more of the I’m-gonna-yell-or-hit-you-if-you-try-and-pull-that-shit-again type. Most people blame that on me, but I’ve got a feeling she’s always had a hot temper. Southern spitfire and all.

So if she’s crying, it’s not your typical stupid teenage drama (the kind Jubilee always seems to be the center of). It’s something big. And the thought of Marie being hurt that bad makes me wanna pop the claws and track down the little shit whose reduced her to the quietly sobbing mess in front of me. Instead, I ignore my itching knuckles and walk over to the bed, pulling her into my arms with ease. Instead of flinching away like she would with the others, Marie clings to me tightly and the desperation and despair in her scent makes my chest tighten.

“Marie, what’s happened?”

She doesn’t answer, but her breathing’s beginning to even out and the tears have stopped so I must have done something right. When she finally does speak, it’s definitely not something I’m expecting to hear.

“I’m sorry.”

She tries to lean away from me, but I hold her tight because her scent’s still full of pain. And she’s got the ridiculous idea that she has something to apologize for and that’s some shit we’re going to have to correct. Now.

“You ain’t got nothing to apologize for.”

Marie sighs and sinks against me wearily. “The Canucks are playing the Oilers for the cup and I’m making you miss it because of my stupid emotional problems.”

I don’t say anything for a second. Mostly because I’d completely forgotten the championship was on the second I’d heard Marie crying from halfway down the hall. “Kid, if you think a hockey match is more important to me than you are, you’re out of your damn mind.”

When she looks up at me, I’m expecting at least a watery smile, so the utter anguish that’s so clear in those bright doe eyes of hers throws me for a loop. “I’m a terrible person,” she whispers.

I grit my teeth. “What fucking idiot told you that?”

Cause that’s some claw-worthy shit right there.

She shakes her head. “No one had to. What I’m doing is… it’s just so wrong.”

Again, I’m at a loss for words, because what the fuck is she talking about? Aside from the occasional truancy and breaking of curfew (and I’m not sure either of those really counts since she’s usually with me and I could always pull the teacher card), Marie’s about as good as they come. Not innocent (no way in hell she could be with my thoughts swirling around her head), but good.

“I’m using him, Logan,” she continues in a soft, broken voice that makes me tighten the grip I have on her. “I’m using Bobby.”

I freeze. And I mean completely freeze. No breathing, no twitching, nothing. “Using him?”

If that little shit has fucked her, I’ll rip his dick off. I don’t care if it was consensual or her idea or whatever. That is grounds for automatic castration. Nobody touches my girl like that.

Whoa. Hold the phone.

My girl? Where the fuck did that come from?

“Emotionally,” she clarifies, pulling me back into the conversation and away from some dangerous territory. Some very dangerous territory. “I’m not in love with him, Logan. And I never will be. God, I don’t even like him all that much. And I see the way Kitty looks at him and sometimes he looks at her that way too and I know I should let him go but--”

Wait a second. “Iceprick’s been eyeing up another girl?”

I’ll fucking kill him.

“A little extreme, don’t you think?” I didn’t even realize I’d said that last part out loud. “And that’s not the point. I’m not the victim here, he is. I’m using him. But I can’t make myself let him go, not when--” She hesitates and I give her shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “Not when he may be the only chance I get.”

“Chance at what?”

The bitter scoff she releases is decades too old for her. “Guys aren’t exactly lining up to get with a girl they can never touch, Logan. And I know its screwed up and selfish and a whole lot of other things, but I don’t want to be alone.”

The way her voice cracks at the end breaks my heart in a way no woman’s ever been able to before. “Tell me what to do, darlin’.” Because I can’t take seeing her like this.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

The defeated certainty in her voice is something I can’t accept and I tell her as much. “What are you gonna do, sugah? Make guys date me?”

A wave of something I can’t quite pinpoint – but it feels a lot like anger – rushes through me at the thought of Marie dating other guys. Guys who’d be a hell of a lot pushier than Bobby Drake. And more inventive too. The low growl that rumbles my chest is something I can’t help. But it surprises the shit out of both of us.

“Logan?”

Her scent’s changed now. The pain’s still there, but it’s mixed with curiosity, a bit of hope, and something else that I’ve never smelt off of her before. I can’t pinpoint it at first, but whatever it is, is intoxicating. I don’t bother resisting the urge to lean closer to her and inhale deeply.

Damn.

It’s suddenly gotten a hell of a lot stronger, which is doing all sorts of things to my body. Things it’s never done around Marie.

She has one delicate hand braced against my chest and I can feel the heat of her touch radiating against me even through the layers of clothing between us. There’s a loud thumping noise in the background and it takes me a minute to realize that it’s my heartbeat.

Holy shit.

I’m a man of many talents. Self-restrain is not one of them. So the moment I realize what’s going on between us – that the scent coming off Marie is a delicious mix of lust and trust and a couple other things I’m too distracted to name and that both the man and the animal in me are finally in agreement over something (namely, wanting her) – I don’t wait another second before pulling her flush against my body and kissing her with reckless abandon.

Yeah, I know. She’s seventeen. And I’m old enough to be her – well, actually no one really knows how old I am, but it’s at least twice her age.

Do I look like the type of guy who’d give a flying fuck? Cause I’m not. And I don’t. She’s old enough to know what she wants and if what she wants is me, well I’m not going to argue with her. And judging from the way she’s grinding her hips against mine and whispering my name, I’d say she definitely wants.

It’s a crying shame that we both seemed to have forgotten about the reality of our situation (a first for both of us, that’s for sure) and not five seconds into it I can feel the torturous pull of her mutation begin. Marie lets out a startled cry and jerks back from me, but it’s too late. I can already feel the darkness coming and I know I’m gonna be hurting like hell when I wake up from this.

But damn if it wasn’t worth it.