Marie packed all her belongings into her green duffle bag. She sighed as she looked around the bedroom that she had shared with other "special" girls at 'Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters'.
The power that had made her special, untouchable by anyone but herself, was gone.
This wasn't her home anymore.
Logan stomped down the hallway toward the girl's dorms. The recent argument with Storm swirled around his mind.
"Rogue's leaving, Logan. She told me yesterday." Storm poured more coffee into her cup and turned to looked out the kitchen window.
He dropped his fork, his breakfast already forgotten.
"Did she say why?" His calm voice hid the rush of emotion that flooded his chest.
"Isn't it obvious? She has a chance at a normal life, away from this place. I encouraged her to go. It's the best thing."
"You what?" he growled.
He rose and tossed his plate in the sink. Storm turned at the noise and met his eyes.
"Where will she go? Who will protect her? She's just a kid ..."
“She's made her decision, Logan. Why do you have a problem with it?”
"This is bullshit, Storm. This is her home.”
"Logan, I don't think..."
"When is she leaving?"
"Today." She turned back to her coffee and looking out the window. "I bought her a train ticket..." Logan didn't hear the rest. He'd already left the kitchen.
Marie heard him coming down the hall. He was angry and not thinking clearly, because The Wolverine was silent and undetectable when he wanted to be. She knew she was the cause of his state of mind. She steeled herself for the shitstorm that was fast approaching.
“Where you headed, Rogue?” Logan leaned against the doorway, like he hadn’t a care in the world. As if his heart wasn’t hammering a painful staccato in his chest.
She was his; it was simple. The Wolverine had claimed her as his own. Would fight to the death to protect her. But Logan was at a loss on how to protect a teenager girl from a broken heart. You can’t extend adamantium claws and solve delicate problems.
Oh, he’d thought about it. Seriously considered hunting down Popsicle Boy and eviscerating him for hurting Marie. The thought had made him smile for a day. One look from her had stilled his fists. As much as pummeling Bobby to a bloody pulp would please him, it wouldn’t help her or heal her heart.
Christ, he hated this touchy-feely shit. Logan preferred problems he could beat into submission. And now, because of puzzles he couldn’t solve, because of riddles he had no answer to, she was going to run again. They had started this weird journey together and now she was leaving. His Marie was leaving. And short of beating her senseless, he had no clue how to stop her.
“Back to Mississippi. After that, I’m not sure.” She fidgeted with her jacket, looking everywhere but at him. She was going, and no long-standing crush on the beautiful man in front of her was going to stop her. “I don’t belong here anymore, Logan.”
He couldn’t stop looking at her hands. They were uncovered, pale and beautiful. Not much had changed after Marie had received the cure. Her appearance was the same. She wore the same clothes, and kept a distance between herself and people. Logan supposed it was more a habit than anything else. Her constant fear of brushing up against someone and killing them by accident was forever ingrained in her mind. The only difference between Rogue's appearance pre-cure and post-cure were her hands. She often clasped them behind her back, or stuffed them in her pockets. But she stopped wearing the gloves that covered her from fingertips to elbow.
They made quite a pair. She with her deadly skin, and him with his regenerative abilities and metal skeleton, and don’t forget the claws. Can’t forget about those. For too long he was alone, fighting the nightmares that haunted his nights. And memories he couldn’t recall in the light of day. Logan hadn’t cared about anyone or anything. Including himself.
Then Marie had come along with those haunted eyes and luminous skin. Someone as lost as he was. He became her savior, and she his redemption. Logan always treated her as the kid she was. He knew how she felt about him. The furtive glances and hopeful looks from her did not go unnoticed. He was happy when she showed interest in a kid her own age.
At least, that’s what he told himself. The baser part of him, the side that was pure animal had other ideas. He kept a tight reign on The Wolverine where Marie was concerned. His instincts had him noticing her curvy body, the way her skin smelled, and the way she looked at him. Those instincts were trouble. They whispered to him that the girl was his; belonged to him, body and soul. The inkling of jealously he felt when he first saw her with Bobby was almost his undoing. But he had kept control. There were always distractions; women he met in bars, hell women he met anywhere. Getting laid was never a problem. And there had been Jean. She was fun to chase, and he had enjoyed the verbal give and take.
Now the distractions were gone. He felt his tightly held control slip. He felt the Wolverine stir. Marie was his. Had always been. And today she would find out.
“I told you not to get the cure for some boy.” Her eyes widened at his statement and a blush rose on her face.
“I didn’t! I did it for me!” She looked him in the eyes now.
“Really? This has nothing to do with Bobby and Kitty groping each other in the hallways?” He took two steps closer to her, nostrils flaring, waiting for the lie.
“No.” Her eyes darted around the room again, not seeing anything.
It was a lie. The same lie she had told him days ago, on her way to the clinic. He felt like a predator on the hunt, sensing the blood of his prey.
“Were you going to say goodbye?” His change in subject caught her attention. He moved further into the room, blocking her path to the door. “You were just going to leave.” A statement of fact, not a question.
He reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her hand to his face. He paused a moment to inhale her scent before pressing his lips to her palm.
Marie gasped and closed her eyes. His hand circling her wrist was like a vice, just this side of painful. Her breath caught in her throat and what felt like an electrical pulse raced across her skin. His mouth was hot as fire and she felt like she was melting. She hated that her traitorous body responded to his touch. She tried to pull her hand free only to feel Logan tighten his grip on her wrist.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “You’re hurting me.”
Instead of freeing her hand he licked gently along her palm, slowly sucking her index finger into his mouth. Grazing it gently with his teeth, he then lathing it with his warm tongue He watched Marie’s reaction with hooded eyes. A low growl rolled up from his chest.
Logan released her hand and leaned forward. “You’re hurting me, Marie.” She felt his warm breath on her face moments before his lips touched hers in a forceful kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, as if to devour her.
How many times had she wished for this very thing? How many times had she dreamed of this moment? It was the culmination of years of longing, an uncounted number of furtive glances, and a young girl’s fantasy come to life.
It was then that she felt the pull of her poisonous skin. She opened her eyes, and watched as Logan’s skin changed. Dark lines coursing beneath the surface as his eyelids fluttered. The surge of his power enveloped her in a haze. It took all her concentration to push him away from her.
Logan slumped to the floor. Marie watched as his skin returned to normal and his breathing resumed its natural pace.
She knew he would recover from touching her. He always did. The latest version of Logan to occupy her mind was talking. But it wasn’t really Logan. It was The Wolverine. He was on the hunt. He would come after what was his.
Marie grabbed her bag and ran out of the room.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I own nothing but my kids, you want one?