“Marie?”
One hoarse whisper.
That was all it took.
Marie’s senses were on high alert, her eyes straining to glance beyond the restraint of the neck collar towards the open doorway. Her fingers twitched, clenching the nurse call button. It didn’t matter if her less than acute senses had stopped working long ago; Logan’s essence, his scent, wafted across the room towards her in an inescapable tidal wave of emotion and longing.
She bit her lip, which suddenly quivered uncontrollably. God she hadn’t cried. She hadn’t let herself cry in five years, and now, everything was breaking all over again. The nomadic, wandering lifestyle she had constructed for herself after leaving the mansion had suited her. She had avoided anywhere that children congregated for three years, working out of dives and bars far seedier than anything she had ever bothered with, even Laughlin City.
Just thinking of Laughlin caused her heart to beat uncomfortably fast. That was the reason she had left work as a bartender. Any stage, every cage...there was always someone there who reminded her of Logan. Thinking of Logan had hurt. Thinking of Charlie… oh God that had hurt so much more.
She knew Logan was distraught when their son died, but she was so broken, so lost, that she had never been able to realize he had hurt just as much, if not more than her. Charlie had been an extension of her soul, her life, her breath. Why couldn’t he have been a mutant? Why did something as simple as leukemia, something that his father’s immune system would incinerate without effort, how could that claim her precious baby?
Even now it caused a lump to rise in her throat. She bit her lip harder, it bled. She knew Logan would be able to smell it from across the room, even underneath the overwhelming scent of antiseptic and cleaner.
“Can I come in?” Logan whispered.
Marie nodded her head slightly. She heard his boots clump along the tiled, sterile floor. Saw his hands, still tan, still calloused, reach for the guard rails on her bed. Her eyes strained to look at him, even though she didn’t want him to see her crying.
She wanted to be strong again.
Wanted to be Rogue again.
Wanted to close herself up, wall herself back behind her mutation until there was nothing left, only a void that would suck anything in that tried to hurt her. Tried to make her hurt more. But that had never been what Logan wanted.
He had wanted to heal her. To fix her.
And look at her now.
Permanently broken. Literally in two pieces that no longer cooperated or fit together correctly. Did that mean she was in four pieces? A heart broken in two and a body broken in two… would she never be whole again? And he would never want her now… and it was all too much. Charlie, the accident, the loss. And suddenly she knew that unless something grounded her, she would just blow away like chaff in the wind, forever.
“Brought you some flowers, baby.” Logan whispered.
Marie looked at the roses. Marie looked at Logan’s left hand, where the wedding band she had slid onto his finger so many years ago still sat. And God, she couldn’t help herself. She reached out, pale, shaking hand reaching for those firm, strong fingers. She wrapped her hand in his, curled her fingers around his, because even though she had been denying it, blaming him, blaming herself for the past five years, she desperately needed Logan.
And her tears poured out, streaming down her cheeks, dampening her hospital gown. Logan’s forehead pressed into hers, his nose ghosting against her cheeks. His breath whuffed gently in her hair. The flowers sat, forgotten on the rolling serving tray next to her bed. Quietly, Logan inhaled her scent, while her hands fisted tightly in his customary flannel shirt, still buttoned askew.
A knock on the door interrupted their reverie, and Marie refused to let go of Logan’s shirt sleeve as he turned to face Dr. McDowell and Sally.
“Miss Smith?” Dr. McDowell asked, obviously wary of the tan, sloppily dressed man now hovering protectively by her bedside.
“Who the hell is that?” Logan growled, eyes narrowing sharply.
Marie almost groaned. The territorial side of the Wolverine would greatly protest at her using an alias. To him, it was like a direct rejection of his name… a rejection of his claim.
Damn doctor.
“My name is Marie Logan, Dr. McDowell. I was a little, out of sorts yesterday.” Marie supplied, feeling Logan tense.
“Miss Logan,” the doctor began, only to be interrupted by Logan.
“That’s Mrs. Logan to you bub.”
Glancing at the ring on Logan’s finger, Sally clapped her hands together excitedly. “Ooooh, I knew it! Running away from a passionate love affair.”
If Marie’s head hadn’t been in a brace she would have slammed it into the hard mattress behind her. Maybe then she wouldn’t be sitting, wallowing in her own misery as Logan stared down the medical professionals assisting her.
“A..are you Mrs. Logan’s husband?” Dr. McDowell stammered, pen clicking nervously on the charts in his hand.
“Yes.” Logan growled, fumbling in his back pocket for his wallet, a worn out, duck taped together contraption made out of disintegrating leather. Marie recognized it as a Christmas gift she had given him when she was seventeen. He flipped open, and underneath a picture of her laughing, dark haired baby, was a wallet sized bride-and-groom picture taken by Jubilee at their wedding.
The lump in her throat came back with a vengeance.
“Is that your son? He’s beautiful.” Sally asked, unintentionally poking the most tender place in Marie’s still healing soul.
Tears silently trickled down Marie’s face, causing Logan to snarl like a wounded animal. Dr. McDowell jumped, silencing Sally with a vicious, cutting look, then returned Logan’s dilapidated wallet.
“Yes,” Logan whispered, running a thumb over the snapshot, “he was a great kid.”
Shaking his head, he turned back to the doctor. “So what’s the problem, doctor?”
“You may want to sit down, Mr. Logan.” Dr. McDowell began, gesturing towards the uncomfortable chair sitting next to Marie’s bedside. The doctor plopped down onto a rolling stool and gingerly slid closer to Logan. “Your wife was in a bad accident,” he said, gesturing towards Marie’s x-rays. Sally flipped on the monitor, allowing Logan to assess the damage.
Marie felt, rather than saw, adamantium fingers bend the hand rail on her bed. Closing her eyes, she tried to stamp down every emotion threatening to explode from her chest as the doctor and Logan discussed her options, only catching snatches of the conversation through her inner emotional turmoil.
“Unless the swelling goes down, surgery is out of the question,” Dr. McDowell murmured, gesturing towards the x-rays in a hushed tone.
“Can’t I get a second opinion?” Logan asked. Marie could have cut the tension in the room with a knife.
“Certainly, Marie is stable enough to be moved. When would you like to have her discharged?” Sally interjected.
God, didn’t she get any say in this? But it was so hard to make any decisions right now. She just wanted to lay back and rely on Logan. She didn’t want to be Jane Smith, or Casey, or Violet… she wanted to be Marie. She wanted to be Marie again.
“I want her out of here in an hour.” Logan growled, “We have a doctor at the institute who may be able to assist on a consultation.”
“Very well, Mr. Logan, I’ll have the next shift draw up your paperwork.”
Fading footsteps slowly drew Marie from her practically catatonic state. Logan’s hazel eyes gazed into her own. She felt like he was piercing her soul. His hand reached out, gently, to caress the side of her cheek, cupping it tenderly.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” Logan whispered. His fingers went to the clips that held her neck brace on. “They said I could take this off if you felt like it.”
Marie nodded, refusing to meet his gaze. She didn’t want to see pity…or even worse, hatred reflected there.
“Won’t you look at me?” Logan asked. Marie glanced up quickly, eyes till watering, threatening to spill over.
“You shouldn’t be apologizing.” Marie said, slowly turning her head to the side, stretching it after its long confinement. “I did this to myself, maybe I even deserve it, you know?”
“Why the hell,” Logan snarled, “Would you deserve this?!”
“It’s my lot in life Logan,” Marie gasped, choking on that lump in her throat again, “I can never keep anything I want. I couldn’t keep you, I couldn’t keep Charlie, I couldn’t handle my mutation, and now I can’t even move my fucking legs.”
Marie watched as Logan’s hands clenched into fists. He was so angry he was shaking. He slid one hand down his unkempt face, the other running through his hair exasperatedly. He stopped at the end of her bed, facing her dead on.
“What do I have to do to get it into your head, huh?!” he shouted, slamming his fists on either side of her now paralyzed lower limbs. “I fucking love you, Marie. I love you, what the hell else do you want me to say? Losing Charlie, Marie, that broke us, I know that now.”
Marie hid her face behind her hands, trying to hide the tears streaming down her face. “Logan, I…I can’t…”
“Can’t what?!” he hissed, voice angry, fingers gently stroking her numb legs. “Can’t handle the fact that after our son died you didn’t want anything to fucking do with me Marie? Well now, I’m all you’ve got.”
She sobbed harder. “Things shouldn’t be like this,” she cried, “not like this.”
“You think I don’t know that, Marie? Our boy should be in the fourth grade. He should be learning to divide, write cursive, play sports, and he can’t.” Logan growled, “You think that doesn’t tear me up inside Marie? That you’re the only one still hurting, still nursing a gaping wound that won’t fucking heal?!”
“I don’t want to be like this…” Marie cried.
“Then FIX it Marie. Would Charlie want us to be like this? So split up, so messed up, so damn far up shit creek that we can’t do something about it?” Logan knelt to the ground then, his hands clenching her feet gingerly, head buried in his arms.
His shoulders shook, and Marie pushed herself up into a sitting position, reaching as far as her IV would let her without pain to gently touch the side of Logan’s cheek. “No, Logan…Charlie wouldn’t want this.”
Logan looked up, eyes watering uncontrollably. He had bared his soul. Could she not return the favor?
“I want to try, Logan.” Marie whispered, heart pounding, “I can’t do it on my own anymore.”
And then Logan moved so quickly that she barely saw it. Suddenly he was millimeters above her face, his breath warm on her cheeks. He folded down the guard rail on her bed, leaning on it gingerly. One arm slid up behind her ear, the other tangled in her dyed ebony hair, thumb brushing delicately against her cheek.
“Oh, Jesus, I’ve needed you for so long.” He managed to choke out, voice dry and nervous.
“Well, I’m here now,” Marie whispered, her un-entangled hand sliding up Logan’s arm to rest on his bicep.
“I know,” he whispered, and Marie felt her stomach flip over as his lips brushed against her own, gently, tenderly, lovingly. “Say you’ll come home with me, Marie, I need to hear you say it.”
Every whispered syllable teased her hyper-sensitive lips, his breath tickling her nose.
“Yes.” Marie whispered, “I need to come home.”
“Thank you, God.” Logan growled.
And then Marie did something completely unexpected. She leaned up, nibbling on Logan’s lower lip. She tugged it, gently, with her teeth. And as he swept his tongue inside of her mouth, fingers trembling as he caressed her face, something inside of Logan slowly began to slide back in its proper place, to knit back together.
She had begun to heal him.
Now he had to heal her.
Unbreak her heart.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: In which Marie and Logan have a fight, and try to fix some things.
It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now
Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without
I just need you now
It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now
Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without
I just need you now
Chapter End Notes:
Quick update, I know :P Got some free time today. Let me know what you think! :)