It was a year and a half before he found her, and in the end it was by pure dumb luck.
After traveling west and north, following what he remembered of Marie's travel patterns from the last time she had run from her home, along with his own instincts. He headed through the northern states, then north through Canada and into Alaska, sure that that would be where she would run to again. She had often spoken of her desire to return to Alaska, after he had taken her for her graduation present. He turned Alaska upside down for three months before determining she wasn't there. Making his way back east, this time across Canada and back down into New York, in case she had gone that way and stopped somewhere along the way.
He stopped at the mansion when he hit New York for a mere hour, long enough to determine she hadn't returned there. She hadn't called, and the Professor hadn't been able to find any trace of her either. Little did Logan know but Jean was fuming when she and Scott returned from a romantic weekend away the following day, to hear through the gossip mill that he had been and gone. Damn him, and damn that little tart for her meddling, was all she could think.
After his stop at the mansion, Logan tried his hand at reverse psychology. Where would he least expect her to go? Somewhere she could hide in plain sight, where he wouldn't think to look for her... Before long he found himself heading south, to Mississippi. He found her old home town, even found her old home, didn't find Marie. He headed west again, all the way to California, tried his luck in Northern Mexico, before making his way east again.
He wearily dragged himself into a little beach side bar in Florida one night. He was drowning himself in whiskey in a dark corner, cursing the heat, and the humidity, when he picked up a scent he had been missing for far too long. Immediately his head snapped up, his keen eyes scanning the crowded bar, trying to spot the girl he was dying to see.
Nothing.
Cursing his own overactive imagination he continued in his endeavour to pickle his liver, or pass out from alcohol poisoning, whichever came first. He was draining the last of yet another bottle when he saw a flash of white come out of the store room behind the bar. There, only eighty feet away from him, on the other side of the bar, was Marie. He watched her in shock for about an hour, she worked here it seemed, and from the way she smiled and chatted with the customers she was well liked. The biggest change of all though was her clothing, or rather, lack of it.
She still wore her gloves, but only short little wristlet gloves, the type that back home she had only ever worn in the middle of winter with long sleeves. Those tiny gloves were the only sign of any concession to her mutation. Her cut off jean shorts barely covered her gorgeous ass, and her tank top was so tight he could make out the seams of her bra as it stretched down to barely her waist. Threaded through the belt loops of her shorts was one of her old scarves.
Some things never changed though, he noted, as his eyes made it down to her feet. Despite the temperature, and her beach side location, she was still wearing her sturdy hiking boots.
As the bars crowd began to thin out he quickly considered his options, did he confront her here, or did he follow her home and try and talk to her in private? Eventually deciding on the latter option - it would leave her without an out to run away from him after all - he headed out of the bar, to wait for her shift to end. It was two am before he finally spied her wander out of the alleyway behind the bar, and begin to trek down the street, obviously on her way home.
He followed at a distance, walking the bike, headlight off so as not to draw too much attention to himself. When she followed a path up to a run down but still tidy apartment building, Logan grabbed his pack, and stealthily followed after her.
He followed her into her apartment when he heard the shower start up, taking the opportunity to get the lay of the small space before she came out. He was wholly unprepared for Marie to walk out of the bathroom five minutes later, stark naked. They both froze in shock, neither having expected to see the other, or in Logan's case, so much of the other.
Marie recovered from her shock first, growling angrily as she shouted, "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing here?!"
Shaking himself out of his dreamy haze, Logan replied, almost as angry. "Looking for you, for a goddamn year and a half, what the hell happened Marie!?" he demanded, all his worry, longing, hurt, and rage bursting out of him in one horrible mess of emotion.
"What happened! What happened?!" Marie parroted, laughing mirthlessly. "Gee, I don't know Logan, what, was that bitch not enough of a woman to handle you, huh?" she asked sardonically.
"What!? ... What woman?" Logan asked, forcing himself to calm down, even as his confusion intensified. Before Marie could respond Logan raised a placating hand. "Look, us yelling at each other isn't going help this situation, why don't we- you go get dressed- and then we can talk, without yelling at each other," he suggested softly.
If Marie didn't know better she would say he was afraid, and good, he should damn well be afraid of her. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you, and I don't want to hear any of your bullshit excuses," she stated deathly calm.
"I get that distinct impression but I've been looking for you for eighteen months Marie and I'm damn well not leaving without clearing up what the hell happened between us as the very least, I... I thought you were happy, I thought..." he sighed, running a hand through his hair, and down his face. "Just, can you get dressed, please, and at least listen to what I have to say."
All of a sudden he looked tired, he looked older, he looked like a man broken and beaten. For a split second Marie felt her old feelings of love and desire begin to blossom, until she ruthlessly crushed them back into the box they had escaped from. Turning silently she walked into her bedroom, leaving him behind in the living room as she went to dress.
When she returned she was dressed in her comfy pyjamas, soft flannel sleep shorts and another, longer, tank top. Walking soundlessly past him, where he still stood, seemingly rooted to the spot, she fixed herself a coffee. She didn't offer him one.
Taking a seat on the sofa, and tucking her legs up on the seat beside her, she glared at him. "Well, hurry up, make your excuses so I can throw you out," she stated coldly, sipping on her drink. She watched in cold amusement, as he opened his mouth several times as if to speak but nothing came out, eventually he took a seat opposite her.
"I'm sorry... if I pushed you that night, for things you weren't ready for, I didn't mean to, you didn't have to run baby, you could have just told me, I- I would do anything for you Marie--" Logan began, before she cut him off.
"Don't call me that, you have no right to use that name, and no, I think it was a damn good thing I got 'pushed' that night, can you imagine I actually believed you when you said you loved me, I was such an idiot, what should I have told you Logan? Huh? I would have figured a smart one like you would have already known 'don't a invite a woman to your room only for her to turn up to find you fucking another woman', or did you think you could get me to join in or something--" She didn't realise her rant was increasing in volume until Logan cut her off.
"What?! What the fuck do you mean fucking another woman? Mari-Rogue, the only woman in my room that night was you," he swore.
"Yeah, tall, red-haired me, that's right," Marie scoffed, feeling her inner Wolverine prowling dangerously. The Logan in her head was being very quiet, that shouldn't surprise her though, he was finally getting what he wanted, she was finally talking to him.
"Wha- I don't understand Marie... There was never anyone in my room that night but you, I swear, god, there hadn't even been any other woman in my room since I came back to the mansion, unless you count the cleaner but if I recall correctly she was short and black haired.” He was clearly trying to lighten the mood with that crack but the dark glare she shot him showed, he well missed the mark. "Alright then, when was this woman in my room? And who was this woman?" he demanded. "What did you see that night Marie? Because clearly we have very different recollections."
"What did I see!? I opened the god damn door to see YOU BONING JEAN that's what I god damn saw!" Marie screamed at him, as the anger, hurt, betrayal she had spent the last year trying to crush flowed out of her. "You told me you loved me, you told me my skin meant nothing, you told me we would be together, and then- what- she got lonely and threw herself at you and you were just too god damn happy to catch her, you didn't even try to hide it, you... I hate you, I HATE YOU, so if you thought you could just waltz back in here and pick up where you left off with me now that you've had your fun with her, or she's dumped you, or whatever, you can think again. I don't love you, I don't want you, I hate you, and I want you to leave!"
She was on her feet by the time she finished, tears streaming down her face as her voice cracked, even as she choked down the sob that threatened to break out. It was lies, all of it, she still loved him, she still wanted him, but she didn't have the strength to put her fractured heart back together. And there was no way in hell she was going to play second choice to that bitch.
For endless minutes Logan just stared at her, pain and confusion the only emotions she could see on his face. Until her vision blurred and he was eventually hidden from her view, behind a wall of unshed tears.
"Marie... I don't... that's not what happened, Marie..." He leaped to his feet and caught her arm, when she snorted derisively and turned her back on him. "I swear Marie, I've never touched Jean, hell, I haven't even flirted with her to piss Scott off in years, I'm not interested in Jean, I wasn't then, I wasn't even when I came back to the mansion... It's always been you Marie, I just had to wait for you to grow up, that night with you was the best night of my life Marie, I had been looking forward to the day I could make you mine for so long, I--"
"Well you didn't make me yours now did you, so any claim you think you have on me you can shove it up your ass and--" Marie tried to begin again but Logan cut her off.
"Marie, will you listen to me! I don't know how to convince you, I was not with Jean, I've never been with Jean, you have to belie-- Turn your skin on!" he suddenly blurted. "Whatever you've done to turn it off, undo it, turn it on, the only way you're going to believe me is to see my memories, to see what I saw Marie, which was you--"
"I don't want your memories of boning that whore in my head!" Marie snapped, immediately yanking her arm out of his.
"There are NO memories like that in my head Marie, it never happened, please, I'm begging you Marie, please, look, tell me what you see, see me and you Marie, only you," Logan really was begging, and for the first time since she had known him he was crying.
'Please Marie, he's telling you the truth,' the Logan in her head whispered to her softly. She noticed then that even Wolverine had fallen strangely silent.
'I know what I saw,' she declared, trying to shore up her failing resolve.
'Now see what he saw,' Logan murmured.