Marie looked at the man asleep in the passenger seat of her car. He was so big he made the usually roomy car feel almost cramped. Maybe it had just been so long since she had been in close quarters with anyone. She was acutely aware of every inch of her skin.
“Logan,” she said softly, and he stirred a little. “Logan,” she said more loudly, and he bolted upright, startling her. She drew back against the driver’s side door, watching curiously as he seemed to instantly assess his surroundings and then relax back into the seat. He acts like a soldier, she suddenly thought, and felt a return of the suspicion she had felt earlier. She suddenly wished she had gotten two rooms at the motel, but she had figured they would have wanted two IDs. At least she had gotten one with two beds.
He had been watching her watch him, but now he looked out at the motel parking lot, dim in the gathering dusk. “You got us a room?” he asked. She nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “I must have been really out.”
He stretched, and she watched in fascination as the action rippled through the muscles in his lean body. I’m going to go into a motel room with this man, she suddenly realized, and her mouth went dry. He had seemed to assume that they would be sharing one room. Maybe he did stuff like this all the time. Maybe he thought...
He stepped out of the car, and then ducked down to look at her through the open door. “You coming?” he asked, and she snapped out of her trance, getting out of the car. She grabbed her duffel bag from the trunk and headed for the room. If he had wanted to kill her, he would have let her be killed back at the bar. Instead he had saved her life, and if that didn’t earn at least a little trust she was pretty damn ungrateful. And if he wanted or expected something else...well, he would be disappointed. Maybe she was flattering herself anyway, he certainly hadn’t shown any signs of being attracted to her. For now, her instinct was to trust him, and she was going to go with that. She had been alone for so long...
She slid the key into the door, and suddenly felt him standing very close behind her. It shocked her for a minute that he wasn’t afraid to be that close. Of course he’s not afraid, you idiot, he doesn’t know yet, she scolded herself. She felt his hand brush her back, and she jumped, pushing open the motel room door and practically leaping in.
“They got you,” he said, an edge of anger in his voice. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He must have seen the confusion in her eyes. He pulled her toward a mirror mounted over the dresser, turning her around. She turned her head, and saw a few quarter-sized spots of blood staining her shirt over her right shoulder blade.
“I guess I didn’t realize...” she thought out loud. “It stung, and it’s a little sore, but I thought it was just a bruise or scrape or something.”
His hand tightened on her arm, and she looked up at him in alarm. “I shoulda checked to make sure you were okay,” he said. “Dammit, I shoulda smelled it...” She realized he was angry at himself, not her.
She smiled, remembering his words from before. “Take it easy,” she said. “I’ll heal.” He snorted, the tension leaving his body, his grip loosening.
“Yeah, well, not as quick as me. And we’ll have to get the shot out.” His eyes met hers in the mirror. “It’ll hurt.”
Ugh. He was right. “I guess I’ll have to make a run for Neosporin after all. Why don’t you clean up first, and I’ll go get you some clothes and things, and stuff to fix me up. Then first thing tomorrow we’ll double back and get you back to your bike.”
He nodded, and she headed for the door, suddenly anxious to get a little space and clear her head. "Marie," he said, and she jumped a little. She turned around, and then felt sheepish as he ripped the tag from the back of his jeans and handed it to her. "Shirts are extra large," he said, and that made her smile.
"That one I could have guessed," she said with a laugh, carefully taking the tag from his hand. She would have to tell him about her skin soon, but she let herself avoid that thought for now. She would tell him when she got back, she would have to, and then she would see it -- the aversion, the withdrawal. She sighed, and he gave her a questioning look. She smiled brightly. "Be right back."
He was still in the bathroom when she returned, but the shower wasn't running. She knocked gently, and he opened the door so quickly it startled her. She felt heat rise in her cheeks as the half-open door revealed a span of bare chest, a white towel knotted dangerously low around his hips. She handed the bag to him, and he grinned. “Thanks, darlin’.” He shut the door before she could respond.
Marie sat down on the bed. She was acting like a fool. She admitted to herself that she had liked shopping for a man. She had never even been over to the men’s side of a store, and she had let herself pretend for a moment that she was a regular girl, with a boyfriend or even a husband to shop for. You’re losing it, she told herself. The sooner you get distance from this, the better. Are you really so pathetic that an hour or two in a car with a guy and an offhand endearment sends you into fantasy-land?
She tried to force herself into a state of detachment. She was just rattled by her near-death experience, probably, and it was making her ever-present loneliness particularly acute, making her grasp for any connection to anyone. They would go their separate ways tomorrow, and in the meantime she would need his help getting the buckshot out. He might even be on his way sooner once he found out what she was. She unpacked the first aid supplies she had bought, giving a little extra slam to the box of latex gloves, hating them and everything they represented.
“They do sumthin’ to deserve that?” She jumped at the sound of his voice. He was leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, watching her. Christ, he was quiet when he wanted to be, she thought, and again that suspicion welled up. She welcomed it -- it would help her keep her detachment, make it easier for her to tell him what she knew she had to say. If he wasn’t really on her side, it wouldn’t matter so much when she saw the disgust and fear creep into his eyes, the way they always did when people found out what she was and what she could do.
She watched him come towards her, his hair rumpled as if he had just swiped it dry with a towel. His face was completely healed and he had apparently shaved using the razor and shaving cream she had bought him, revealing the stark beauty of his cheekbones, emphasizing the vibrant hazel of his eyes. The clothes fit his large frame well. Too well, her brain added unhelpfully. She took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, and he sat on the bed opposite, so close their knees almost brushed. She fidgeted with her fingers, wondering where to start. She had taken off her gloves to eat her burger before all hell broke loose, and they had been left behind in the melee. She had more waiting in the bag from the store, but in the meantime she felt naked without them.
“You figured out I’m a mutant, right?”
He smiled, and she felt her heart lurch a little bit. “Darlin’, I think everyone in that bar figured out you were a mutant.”
She nodded, feeling silly. “My mutation is my skin. If my skin touches someone else’s, they get hurt. Maybe even killed if it’s for too long. It’s like I suck the life force right out of them, and into me.”
She couldn’t read anything on his face, he just looked at her steadily. She took another deep breath, and continued. “I’ve been working on control, but it’s really unpredictable. I have to be careful all the time.” She looked at him again, wanting to be sure he understood. “You have to be careful, all the time, for as long as you’re around me.”
“Fair enough.”
She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t seem inclined to do so. She was starting to get frustrated with how calmly he was taking it all. “When I touch someone -- I’m not sure how to explain it. I get a piece of them inside me. Sometimes just a little hint of what they’re thinking in that moment, if it was just a quick brush. If it was longer, I get more -- their thoughts, their feelings, their memories, even for their whole lifetimes. If they’re a mutant, I get their power. It used to be that it would happen uncontrollably, and just last for a little while. As I get better control, though, I’m figuring out how to call those mutations up when I need them so I can use them again.”
He looked at her intently. “That’s how you knew their names? Carl, and Danny, and the rest? By checking Danny’s memories after you touched him?”
She nodded. “That was easy, because it was right in his head when I touched him. If I have to go searching through memories it’s harder. I try to lock people away as soon as I touch them, otherwise...” She looked back down at her hands. “It’s going to sound crazy,” she said miserably.
She felt his hand on her knee, so close to her exposed hands she jerked them away in alarm. “Hey,” he said. “You can tell me.”
She nodded. As hard as this was, it was a relief to tell someone. She had had to figure so much of it out on her own. “At first the people I touched were just in my head, all the time. Talking to me, yelling at me, trying to take over sometimes, so loud I couldn’t think. I’ve figured out over time how to lock them away, so they don’t drive me crazy. The less I have of them, the easier it is. And now with new people I try to get them locked away as quick as I can. It’s not perfect...sometimes they get out anyway, and especially at night, I have their nightmares a lot, in addition to my own. But it’s a lot better than it used to be.”
He squeezed her knee a little, and the small gesture of kindness brought her closer to tears. “And the ice?,” he asked. “Was that from someone you touched?”
She had expected the question, but it still felt like a punch in the gut. “Yeah,” she said, trying to force a casual tone past the lump in her throat. She jumped up, turning her back to him, swiping at her eyes. “I’m going to go grab us some food, okay?”
She felt his hand on her uninjured shoulder. “You take a shower,” he said. “Get it as hot as you can stand and let it start to clean out the wounds and relax that muscle. I’ll get the food, and when I get back we’ll take care of that buckshot.”
She fought the urge to lean into his touch. She took a deep, shuddering breath and turned around to face him again. “I’ve told you what I can do -- you’ve seen it. Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
He looked down at her. His eyes were serious, but a hint of a sardonic smile quirked his lips. “I have giant metal claws. I’ve seen a lot in my time. Maybe I don’t scare so easy.”
Suddenly, that scared her more than anything...the idea that someone wouldn’t be afraid of her. Wouldn’t mind getting close to her. It scared her how badly she wanted to believe that could happen.
She ducked her head, hoping that the yearning she felt wasn’t written all over her face. “You should be,” she said to her feet. “You should be scared of me.”
She felt his hand brush back a lock of her hair, and she froze, holding her breath at the dangerous intimacy of the gesture. When his hand was safely away she couldn’t help looking up at him again. His eyes were intent on hers, the expression on his face almost grim. “Maybe you should be afraid of me too,” he said, his voice low and thick.
Before she could ask what he meant, he had turned away, taking the car keys off the dresser. He stopped at the door, but didn’t turn around. “Take your shower. I’ll be right back.”
_________________________________________________
[text message log:]
Logan to Xavier: Made contact. Physical description, white, female, early 20’s, 5’ 5”, 125 pounds, auburn hair with distinctive white streaks. Name on car registration is Marie Roberts. Surname probable alias. Target is cautious, but have established initial trust. Target’s mutation is lethal skin. Skin-to-skin contact can incapacitate or kill. Target temporarily absorbs mutations, personalities. Possiblity of permanent absorption.
Xavier to Logan: The power you describe is exceptional. Take all possible measures to gain target’s trust. Keep in contact.
Logan to Xavier: About that. Need someone from the mansion to take care of something. Not Scott...
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'd love to hear what you guys think of this chapter. I always have such a hard time with the part in AU's where Marie describes her mutation. I feel like it's always, "blah, blah, blah," since the reader already knows that stuff, but Logan doesn't so she has to say it anyway! There are a few breadcrumbs in there of future plot twists and backstory, though, so hopefully that will keep it interesting. ;-)
Chapter End Notes:
Reviews make me want to smooch my computer!