The Blackbird landed just before midnight.

Its three passengers were grim-faced, silent as they went about shutting the aircraft down. When the Wolverine walked past the locker room and entered the elevator, Gambit moved to stop him - wearing the X-Men uniform upstairs was forbidden – but Cyclops held up his hand, silencing him.

“Leave him be, Gambit.”


******



Three hours earlier

They were in the Arizonian desert, outside the F.O. H. Headquarters.

Cyclops informed Wolverine, via telelink, that the Professor wanted them to return to the X-Mansion, and instructed him to erase evidence of their presence until they returned the next day to complete the recon mission. It didn’t take much to persuade Logan to abandon their mission temporarily, images of Rogue never far from his thoughts. As he made his way back to the cloaked jet, a wave of anticipatory energy raced through him, remembering the last time he was with her. He had so much to teach her, and he intended to show her, in excruciating detail just how touchable she was.

He crouched, instincts on alert, before two metal tentacles swirled towards him from behind the outcropping where the Blackbird was hidden, taking him almost by surprise. They wrapped around his neck and legs, revealing Omega Red, the Russian super-soldier.

“Where is it?”

Wolverine’s throat was being crushed, and his chest heaved from the effort to breathe. Snarling, his claws sprang from his fists, scraping along the metal of the thick cords that held him, but they tightened, threatening to snap his vocal chords.

“This is almost too easy. You have become predictable, complacent,” the super human hissed, pulling Wolverine up to his metallic face. “Immersing yourself with these X-Men dulls and weakens you, Weapon X. It’s pathetic.” His red eyes reflected his derision. “Tell me the location of the Carbonadium Synthesizer,” he demanded. “Do so quickly, and I might allow you the honor of a warrior’s death.”

Wolverine didn’t know what the larger man was talking about. He cracked his head against the Russian’s nose, its cartilage making a sickening sound as it smashed on contact, blood pouring down the front of his red uniform. Wolverine flung himself over the former Soviet superhero, using his shoulders as leverage, before wrapping his arms about the large man’s neck in a choke-hold.

“I don’t know what the fuck yer talking about, but yer about to die, and there’s gonna be nothin’ honorable about it.”

Arkady Rossovich realized Wolverine didn’t recognize him. With a roar, he grabbed hold of the feral’s head and hurtled him forwards, his powerful strength managing to launch him several meters away. “Still playing amnesiac, are we?” the blonde-haired monster taunted, attempting to distract the dangerous mutant that was about to skewer him. “How quaint. And convenient. Tell me, is it easier to live without the memory of your murdered wife when you play super hero with your X-Men?”

Wolverine thought he was referring to Viper, the woman he divorced in Madripoor, but she was still alive. Seeing his confusion, the evil super human elaborated, his red eyes glowing.

"Ah, yes. Itsu was her name. You married her just after the Second World War, after Ogun sent you to Jasmine Falls to train with the ninjas there. You should have known better, Weapon X, should have known you couldn't hide away in that remote Japanese mountain village forever.” His eyes darkened, continuing in a low, malicious voice, “Creations as valuable as us can’t play house, comrade, can’t play husband. Or father. It causes bullets to fire through pregnant bellies of women." He smiled, cruelly. “Yes, your unborn child, dead. How fortuitous that you can't remember.”

Wolverine stood there, stunned by the lack of deception in Red Omega’s scent, and the Russian immediately took advantage of his momentary loss of concentration. He ran forward and thrust his sword through the Wolverine, twisting the weapon deep in his gut before lifting it up to slice through the feral’s sternum. Thick, red blood ran over his powerful forearms, and the Russian knocked him out with a snap of his carbonadium tentacles.

The sound of a helicopter could be heard in the distance and Omega Red cursed loudly when Cyclops and Gambit jumped in front of the large Russian, blocking his escape with the Wolverine.

“Surrender, Omega Red,” Cyclops demanded, hand on his visor, and Gambit stood beside him, his hands ominously glowing from the charged cards he held within them. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Helicarrier hovered directly above them and scores of men in black combat fatigues rappelled down to the ground, encircling the four mutants with their weapons drawn.

Omega Red roared, throwing the inert Wolverine towards Cyclops and Gambit and whipping his tentacles towards the small army that had suddenly appeared. Several ropes whistled through the air, swinging around and entangling him and he dropped to the ground, immobile. A lone figure landed beside him, and with a quick strike, knocked him unconscious with the back of his gun.

“We’ll take it from here, Cyclops.” Colonel Nick Fury told the X-Men leader, swinging his weapon back over his shoulder as he stood over the subdued super soldier. He jerked his head towards his men, and they grabbed hold of the giant, motionless Russian, before propelling back into the large aircraft above them.

“Just a second, Fury,” protested Cyclops, stepping forward, “Omega Red attacked an X-Man. He’s our prisoner, not S.H.I.E.L.D’s.” Cyclops frowned, seeing the colonel wrap the last remaining rope around his arm, stepping onto the loop at its end.

“He is an unauthorized Russian national on American soil, Cyclops. Best you forget you ever saw him. Or me.” He tugged at the rope and was immediately pulled upwards, back into the huge aircraft. Within moments, it left, leaving Cyclops and Gambit to carry Wolverine back to the Blackbird.

When Wolverine came to, recovered from his wounds, he remained dangerously quiet.


*****



He tried to recall her face, but he remembered nothing, felt nothing, only the growing need for revenge. The sublevel elevator doors swished open to reveal the main floor of the academy, sounds of celebrating reaching Logan’s ears. He glanced at the large grandfather clock that stood sentry in front of the main staircase.

11:48pm

Ignoring them, he strode up the stairs to the third floor and he caught her scent just before he swung open the door to his room. Rogue was sitting in the dark, on the edge of his bed, her hair falling in loose waves to her shoulders. She was wearing a silk, green robe, wrapped tightly about her body, feet bare and hands encased in her ever present black silk gloves.

“Why aren’t you downstairs, kid?” His voice was sharp. He tore off his mask and gloves and began working on taking off his boots. Rogue saw that his uniform was torn and bloodied.

“What happened?” She stood up, concerned.

“You’ll find out tomorrow morning at the debriefing,” he informed her abruptly, unzipping his uniform before disappearing into the bathroom.

Rogue heard him turn on the water for a shower. She nervously played with the sash that held her robe in place, listening to the sound of water coming from the bathroom. After a few minutes, she glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

12:03am

Happy New Year to me, she thought bemusedly, sitting back down.

After a few more minutes, the sound of spraying water stopped and she took in a shaky breath in an attempt to calm her pounding heart. Logan strode back into the room and she stared. He was completely, gloriously naked.

“Why are ya still here?” he growled at her, quickly wrapping the towel he was using to dry his hair around his hips. He crossed his arms across his chest, a scowl on his face.

Logan could smell her fear, her apprehension as she stepped towards him, her burning eyes pouring over him. Moonlight from the window cast a soft glow, caressing every curve and line of her. She reached for his hand, pulling it towards her and he braced himself as he felt the soft, warm skin of her smooth cheek.

Logan stared at her, and then at his hand, and she smiled shyly as she saw understanding dawn in his eyes.

She pulled apart the tie that kept her robe together, letting the delicate garment drop soundlessly to the floor, falling in a silken pool at her feet. She stood before him, every inch of her exposed, dressed in nothing but black opera gloves. Blood rushed through him, eyes pouring over her perfect, alabaster skin. Slowly, he pulled off each glove, dropping them to the floor before he placed her hand on his chest, directly over his heart. His golden eyes darkened as their hearts began to beat in tandem, the sound of the harmonized rhythm pulsating in their ears.

Logan lowered his head, his breath warm against her cheek and she lifted her face upwards, lips parted. He dropped his head further, the distance between them closing, and her breath arrested, the awareness that she was about to be kissed, truly kissed, racing through her. When he was about to slant his mouth over hers, she pulled away.

This was her moment.

Rogue’s mouth claimed his with a ferocity and hunger that surprised them both, opening her mouth to deepen her kiss, her tongue swirling over his, dominating, almost angry, breathing in his surrendering moan. Her hands crawled over his broad shoulders, burying her fingers into his hair to expose his throat, before breaking away to fasten her mouth over the pulse beating erratically at its base.

“Oh god, Marie,” he told her, his voice hoarse, taking her into his arms, pressing his heated skin against hers. “I need you. I need you.”

Rogue was scared. He watched the emotion skip over her face and she fought it, her breath shallow and quick. When her eyes captured his, he saw something, bright and vivid, within their jade depths. Before he could decipher what it was, she pressed herself intimately against him, letting him know she was his. His. The Wolverine growled, but still, he held back. Taking his face into her hands tenderly, Rogue looked into his lust-blinded eyes.

“Ah love you, Logan.” She was looking at him, unafraid. And he knew, with every piece of his undeserving soul, that she loved him, because it was all there, everything, in her beautiful eyes.

Fragments, snatches of non-linear moments from his past clawed forward, scratching jealously into his consciousness - Janet, Mariko, Kayla, Jean - women who loved him, women he had loved. All dead. Because of him.

And now a forgotten wife and their unborn child, killed. Because of him.

“No.”

His voice sounded far away. Closing his eyes, he turned away from her, a piercing pain shooting through him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hot, supple body pressed against his rigid back. He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing raggedly.

“This can’t happen, Marie.” He grabbed her hands, forcing her to release him, unable to look at her.

Her voice sounded small, confused. “Ah don’t understand.” He didn’t respond, staying quiet, his face shuttered, and he let go of her hands.

She stepped in front of him. “Ah love you.” Her eyes tried to capture his again, but he looked away, angry, so she caught his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t,” he told her harshly, stepping away from her.

“Ah always loved you,” she confessed softly, her hand reaching out to stroke his hair.

“No!” He shouted the word this time, snapping his head back, away from her touch.

Rogue kissed him, kissed his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks and jaw, her kisses growing more desperate when he continued to stand there, unresponsive. “Please,” she begged, her hands shaking as she placed them against the hard planes of his chest. “Please, please, don’t do this.”

He pushed her roughly away from him. “No.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the growing lump in her throat prevented her. She could only manage a whisper, telling him. “Ah can’t stop loving you, Logan. But if you don’t want my love,” she squeezed her eyes tight and took in a painful breath before continuing, “Ah promise you will never hear those words from me again.” She looked up at him, eyes swimming in tears.

“You don’t have to love me. Just let me have this, Logan. Just one night, with you.”

Wolverine closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“No.”

She bowed her head and dissolved into tears as a crushing pain exploded inside her. She could barely hear him getting dressed into his training uniform as she held back her sobs, struggling to breathe. The bright light from the hallway hit them both when he opened the door and then, with no hesitation, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

She crawled into his leather chair, grabbing the jacket that was draped along its back and clutched it to her, burying her face into the cigar scented leather.
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