don't look so sad, I know it's over
but life goes on and this world will keep on turning
let's just be glad we had this time to spend together
there's no need to watch the bridges that we're burning
I'll get along, and I'm sure you'll find another
and I'll be here if you should ever find you need me
don't say a word about tomorrow or forever
there'll be time enough for sadness when you leave me
lay your head upon my pillow
hold your warm and tender body close to mine
hear the whisper of the rain drops flowing soft against the window
and make believe you love me one more time
for the good times...
It happened because Rogue was distracted.
She was sitting in the library, working on a few of the meditation exercises Professor Xavier had given her. She barely noticed when her Persian kitten, Jasmin, nudged the not-quite-closed door open and padded inside. Then the cat jumped onto her lap. Rogue was so relaxed that she was only dimly aware of the new weight on her legs.
But... It made her think of Logan. Yes, she was thinking about Logan. With a smile, she recalled the day that Jean and Scott had given her the tiny kitten. Logan had tried his damndest to look horrified, but after five years of living inside his soul, Rogue wasn't so easily fooled anymore. She knew that he'd lost his heart the moment she had, when the tiny ball of smoke-grey fur had opened her blue eyes and meowed plaintively.
Five years, and they seemed like mere moments. She grasped at every day that passed, not wanting to let it go. Five years, and Rogue had never in her entire life been happier. She had Logan. She had love. And he didn't care if he couldn't touch her skin. He still cherished her, still held her closer than skin. In his soul.
She smiled, and didn't notice that Jasmin had left the warmth of her lap and begun to claw her way up Rogue's shirt. Then she felt it, the delicate touch of a soft paw on her cheek. Startled, Rogue gasped and began to jerk away when it hit her.
It hit her.
Jasmin wasn't hurt. She merely sat there, perched on Rogue's shoulder, with one paw on the woman's face and her pink tongue curling out with a lazy yawn.
She wasn't hurt.
Jasmin yowled as Rogue bolted up from the wing backed chair, panting. "Oh God. Oh my God," she whispered aloud, watching her cat stalk off, annoyed at the sudden movement. "Oh God..."
She burst out the door, nearly knocking over a student in her haste.
He called after her, "Miss Gordon... Whoa, are you okay?"
Timmy, the boy's name was Timmy. The knowledge was a vague pulse in Rogue's mind as she stumbled. She tried to respond, then shook her head and dashed down the hallway, intent only on reaching the Professor.
He was alone in his office when she came crashing through the door, chest heaving.
"Rogue? Good Lord... Has something happened?" The fear on his face made her shake her head wildly in negation.
She began to babble incoherently. "No! My... I touched... Oh God, Professor, I touched--" She broke off suddenly, waving her hands madly around her head. "Just look," she begged.
Touched? Who had she touched? With panic threatening to break his control, Charles Xavier reached out with his mind and found the younger woman in turmoil. Her thoughts raged around his, and then he focused on one.
...touched Jasmin--she's fine...didn't hurt her--oh God, she's FINE--
"Rogue, calm down," he commanded. "Rogue!"
Finally, she collapsed into the chair he indicated. "Professor, have I really--"
"I'm going to summon Jean," he murmured. "And Logan. If we should need to further test this, he's the ideal candidate for--"
"No!" she interrupted, unyielding. "Not Logan. Not if it's not true, Professor. It... I can't let him think it if it's not true." The look she cast him was pleading. "Please."
He nodded. "Very well, then. Just Jean. Perhaps she'll be able to shed some light on this."
Rogue sat on her bed, unmoving. Across the room, Logan slept peacefully, unaware of the fear and conflict raging inside her.
Twelve hours. It had been twelve hours since Jean had smilingly touched a bare hand to hers, telling her how happy she was for her. It seemed unreal now, as Rogue stared down at her hands. She could touch others. Neither Jean nor Professor Xavier could offer any explanation, though Jean had tried valiantly. She performed on Rogue every physical test at her disposal, but nothing about the young woman's body had changed. None of the results were different.
But she could touch.
The Professor had been so proud of her. He sat silently by, smiling, watching Jean work. "You've done it, Rogue," he'd said later. "We may never know how or why, but you have done it."
She had begged the Professor and Jean both to keep it to themselves, told them that she needed time to come to terms with the sudden change. They simply smiled benevolently and assumed that she wanted to tell everyone, especially Logan, herself.
But she'd told no one.
Especially Logan.
She came to her feet, padding wearily across the hardwood floor. Her lover's bare skin, silvered by moonlight, was a Siren call, and she had no choice but to heed it. Her shaking fingertips touched the slope of his shoulder, and she bit her lip in an effort to keep from crying out.
She could touch him; why hadn't she told him?
He shifted unconsciously into her touch, sighing softly, and Rogue drew back her hand, chest heaving. She was scared out of her mind, and she had no idea why. Was it the fact that she'd lived for so long, seven years now, without naked touch? Or was it something else entirely that kept her mute?
Was it the depth of her feelings for the man on the bed before her?
It was more than a little ironic that she and Logan had ended up together. He was pure animal energy, and she was untouchable. He walked around glaring at the world, daring it as a whole to take him on, while she hid behind layer after layer of cloth, constantly shrouded in a barrier of fabric.
Rogue forced herself to admit that, at times, Logan overwhelmed her. He made her lose control. She, who always had to be so careful, completely lost it whenever he was within ten feet of her. It had been that way since the moment she'd first seen him, standing unbeaten in a metal cage; he was so powerful, so primal, so...
Physical.
Rogue shivered. If he could affect her body so compellingly through the insensate clothing she continuously wore, how quickly and deeply would she fall apart when bared to him? Would the thin veneer of restraint she maintained disintegrate under his naked fingers like so much dust, leaving her scattered to the winds, helpless in his arms?
Lost?
Yes, she would lose herself in him. That frightened her more than it should, and more than she would ever admit.
Rogue sighed in confusion and returned to her bed. Curling into a protective ball under the comforter, she resolved to sleep on it and figure it all out in the morning.
The next morning stretched into afternoon, and still, Rogue had no idea how to tell Logan that no walls remained between them, that nothing could physically keep them apart.
Rogue had morning classes to teach, but had a hard time focusing on literature and history. She let her last class go nearly half an hour early, stunning and pleasing the students. Then she reported to the medical bay, as ordered, where Jean insisted on running more tests. She spent a large part of the afternoon being poked and prodded and jabbed as Jean mumbled hypotheses under her breath and jotted notes in her file.
"I don't get it," Jean finally pronounced. "Everything's normal, which answers the question, I suppose, of whether your mutation is controlled physically or mentally." She blew her bangs out of her face, then grinned as she hopped up on the table next to Rogue. "So... How'd Logan take the news? I heard him whistling over breakfast this morning and almost busted a gut trying not to snicker," she teased, elbowing her friend lightly.
Rogue froze, guilt painted across her face. "I didn't tell him," she admitted quietly, toying with a thread on her sleeve.
"Rogue..." Jean seemed stunned. "Why?"
She struggled to find the words to express her fears to Jean, but all that came out was a bald-faced lie. "I... I didn't want to tell him without bein' sure. You know, in case this was just a fleetin' thing."
"I see," she mumbled, and her tone told Rogue that she didn't see, not at all.
"Jean, don't tell anybody, please. Not yet. This is gonna take some gettin' used to, this touchin' thing, and... " Rogue's eyes met Jean's. "It's a little scary."
She smiled. "Don't worry, Rogue. This secret is yours to tell. Just... Don't wait too long, all right? It's good news, and it should be shared. When you're ready," she added, sliding off the table. "Now, how does dinner sound?"
"Better than stickin' around here with you and your needles, that's for damn sure," Rogue retorted, grinning at the redheaded woman. "And Jean? Thanks."
"Hey, is that you, darlin'? There aren't any clean towels in here..."
Rogue kicked the door shut, then dropped the wicker laundry basket onto the floor and grabbed a folded towel from the top. "That's 'cause I just did all our laundry this evenin'," she informed Logan, nudging the bathroom door open and holding the towel out to him. "You weren't at dinner," she noted, trying not to stare too blatantly at his wet, naked body.
Logan rubbed the towel vigorously over his head before wrapping it low around his hips. "Aw, I'm gonna grab something in a minute. I was in the Danger Room." His arms shot out, snaking around her waist, hauling her up against his damp chest. "Worked up quite an appetite, too," he growled against her shoulder.
Rogue stiffened slightly at the contact. "I'll bet you did," was her hoarse reply.
Frowning, Logan released her. "What's up, Marie?" he asked, dropping a kiss to her gloved wrist. "You coming down with something?"
She flinched away from his concern, walking out of the bathroom.
Logan followed, confused by her distance. "Marie..."
"I'm fine, Logan," she lied, dropping onto her bed. "I just... I'm a little tired."
"You sure?" At her nod, he moved to the dresser. "'Cause I want you to talk to me, you know. If you need to."
At his words, her eyes shot guiltily to him. Had someone said something? But when he turned back to her, his eyes were clear, guileless, and she sighed in relief at his easy smile.
She had to tell him and soon, or she was going to go nuts.
"Actually, Logan, there is somethin' I need to talk to you about," she corrected herself, sitting up as he pulled on his clothes. "Somethin' kinda important."
His smile faltered for a split second, then he shrugged, sitting on his own bed across from her. He rested his hands on his knees and cocked his head. "I'm listening," he said hesitantly.
The words wouldn't come. Rogue's throat worked, and her lips moved soundlessly. Her gaze dropped to her entwined fingers and tears welled up. She could barely breathe, much less speak. "Logan--" Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "We've been together for a long time."
Again, his smile faded for a moment. "Five years," he noted, then smiled softly. "I didn't forget our anniversary or something, did I?"
"No, it's nothing like that," she assured him, shaking her head. "Five years." Rogue squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at Logan once more. "Why?"
"Why what, baby?" Confusion and a little fear twisted his mouth, compressing his beautiful lips into a thin line.
Tears jeweled Rogue's lashes, and she breathed raggedly. "Why do you love me?" At the last words, her lips began to tremble, and she sighed shakily.
Logan's eyes narrowed, and he moved to sit beside Rogue, pulling her close to him. "Hey, hey... What's this all about?" he demanded, wrapping one of her hands in his.
"Why do you love me?" she repeated, upset but immovable. "I need to know, Logan. I need to know why."
"Jesus, Marie. I love you 'cause you're you. My Marie. That's it." He squeezed her shoulder.
Her eyes touched his face, searching for uncertainty, for doubt. "And my skin?" Her voice was low, pained.
Logan tried to choose his words carefully. Sometimes, when she was in these moods, it seemed like nothing he said could make a difference. It was almost as if she couldn't believe that he loved her in spite of not being able to touch her skin.
He understood the feeling. There were still moments when amazement overtook Logan, and he wondered how a woman like Marie could see something in him worth cherishing.
Finally, he spoke. "We've always been pretty good at getting around that, Marie. And besides, I'm not in love with your skin, gorgeous as it is. I'm in love with you."
Her shoulders sank, and she turned and buried her face against his shirt. "I love you, Logan," she choked. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you..." Her breathing hitched and he could smell the salty tang of tears.
"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he assured her quietly, leaning back until he was lying flat on the bed with his lover cradled in his arms. "I swear it, Marie. You're not gonna get rid of me."
She cried for a long time. Logan continued to speak softly to her until she quieted and sleep claimed her. He was left holding her slumbering body to his, wondering what in hell had scared her so badly.
Ororo sighed as she climbed down from the library ladder, brushing dust off her palms onto her jeans. "That's the last of them," she noted, turning to Rogue and smiling. "Next time, make sure you sweet-talk Logan into handling the new book shipments, hmm?"
Rogue's answering smile was weak, and Ororo frowned. Rogue had been acting strangely for the past few days, and it was beginning to concern her. She cocked her head as she studied the younger woman's tense face and sad eyes, and she wondered yet again what was wrong.
"Rogue? Are you all right?" she asked, wading through the emptied cardboard boxes that surrounded them.
"I'm fine," she answered quickly, and Ororo knew that the response had been unconsidered, automatic.
"You don't look fine," she persisted, still moving toward Rogue. "You look--" Her words cut off as the heel of her boot snagged on the edge of a flattened box, tripping her.
"Ororo!" Rogue cried out, reaching to catch her falling friend. "Oh my God, are you okay?"
Ororo clutched Rogue's arms, laughing softly and righting herself. "I'm fine, I just...tripped..." She trailed off and her eyes shot up. "Rogue?"
A sick feeling twisted Rogue's stomach as she looked down, realizing only then that Ororo was gripping her upper arm, bare between the top of her glove and her sleeve.
"Nothing's happening," Ororo whispered, shocked. "Rogue, your power--" She stopped short and sucked in a breath. The face she stared into was absent of surprise, bearing only guilt and pain. "You...knew?"
Rogue squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. "It's been four days now," she confirmed. "I'm sorry, Ororo."
"For what?" she grinned, pulling Rogue into a hug. "This is fantastic, Rogue! How? How did it happen?" she demanded, dragging her to sit on a nearby loveseat.
"I don't know," Rogue confessed unevenly. "It just did."
"You've worked for so long, Rogue. This is wonderful for you." Ororo's smile broadened and she laughed. "You and Logan must be absolutely thrilled."
Rogue glanced away, then back at Ororo. "I haven't told him yet," she said in a rush. "Please don't say anythin' about it, Ororo. Please."
The easy grin slid from Ororo's face, and she sat, silent. "Is there a reason why you haven't told Logan?" she inquired gently.
Rogue stared at the rug beneath her feet for a long moment. "I'm scared, 'Ro," she admitted shakily. "What if..."
"What if what?" Ororo asked softly, shifting closer to Rogue and sliding an arm around her shoulders. "Talk to me."
"What if--" Rogue's voice broke, and she laughed tearfully. "When we first got here, Logan and I... Well, no one's gonna argue the fact that he wanted Jean. Beautiful, taken Jean."
"Yes, but that changed, Rogue. Then he wanted you, and he still does."
"Then he wanted me," Rogue repeated in a whisper, nodding. "Yeah." She turned tortured brown eyes to meet Ororo's concerned ones. "And Logan would be the first to say that he's always loved a challenge." She closed her eyes, and the tears that had been welling in them flooded down her cheeks. "What if--if that's what I am? What if that's all I am? An untouchable challenge?"
Ororo shook her head vehemently. "Rogue, you know that's not true," she insisted, raising her hand to the younger woman's cheek to wipe away her tears. "He loves you, and that's not something that comes lightly or easily for a man like Logan." She smiled as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Rogue's face. "He's going to be so happy. So happy."
Rogue shivered. "I don't know how to tell him now, 'Ro. It's been days, and he'll want to know why I waited, why I didn't--"
"You must tell him, Rogue, and soon." Ororo's face was grave. "The longer you keep this from him..."
"The more it'll hurt when I finally do tell him," Rogue finished, wiping her eyes.
Ororo grasped Rogue's hand with her own and sat silently, not voicing her other concerns. Foremost in her mind was the knowledge that Xavier's school was not a large place, and Rogue's newfound control over her mutation could not forever remain a secret. If Rogue did not tell Logan herself, then he would find out elsewhere.
A cold knot formed in Ororo's stomach. Something told her that hearing the news from anyone other than a joyful Rogue would hurt Logan beyond anything else.
It was only later that she would know how prophetic that thought had been.
Logan stood aside as students streamed out of Rogue's classroom. A few of them stared at him warily, and some with blatant curiosity. He merely stared back, waiting until the last of them had passed.
"You done freakin' my students out now, Logan?" Rogue called laughingly from the front of the room.
He ducked inside the room, grinning as he watched her erase the blackboard and put her chalk away. "Nah, I must be getting mellow in my old age," he told her, levering himself to sit on a table in front of her desk. "I didn't even growl at any of 'em."
She feigned a pout as she moved to stand between his spread knees, placing her gloved hands on his cheeks. "You still growl at me," she pointed out.
He smirked as she rubbed a thumb across his lips. "Yeah, but only 'cause you like it." He grasped her hips and let a growl rumble up from his chest, noting with satisfaction the sensual widening of her eyes. "See?"
"A very valid point," she agreed, smiling.
Logan was glad to see her looking so happy and light-hearted. She'd been in such a weird funk for the last week or so that he was starting to get seriously worried. But she seemed carefree now, and he wondered if maybe she really had just been tired. "Hey," he said. "It's Friday."
Rogue's brow creased in confusion. "So it is."
"So... Whaddya say we take the weekend off?" he suggested. "I don't think the school's gonna fall apart while we're gone," he added, nipping at her finger. "We could go camping or something. Just you, me, and more stars than you could ever count."
She let her eyes drift shut at his words. "Mmm, I love the way you think, Logan." Then she sobered and moved her hands to his shoulders. "But I think we should talk first. Logan, there's somethin' I need to tell you."
His fingers tightened on her hips as fear edged back into his chest. "Okay, Marie."
Rogue hesitated, then whispered, "Somethin' has happened, Logan. Somethin' that could change everythin'."
He stared at her, waiting for her to continue, then laughed painfully. "Are we gonna play twenty questions, or are you just gonna lay it on me?"
Rogue was a bit taken aback by his rough tone. "Logan, it's--"
"Rogue!" Scott stood in the doorway, leaning in. "Can I come in?" he asked, and she broke away from Logan.
"Sure, come on in," she invited, casting a sidelong glance at Logan, who looked extremely irritated at the intrusion.
Scott grinned and walked toward her. "Jean just told me the news," he announced cheerfully. "This is great, Rogue."
"Oh God," she whispered. "Scott, I--"
Before she could speak, he swept her up in a huge hug. "No, it's better than great," he corrected, ignoring Logan's glare. "It's marvelous." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I can't tell you how happy I am for you."
Rogue stood, frozen, as Scott released her, laughing. A look at Logan confirmed that he hadn't missed the kiss and the weight it carried. He looked...betrayed. And angry.
Scott also caught the murderous expression Logan wore. He held up his hands and chuckled. "Whoa, relax, Logan. I'm not trying to move in on your girl, or anything. I'm just--"
"Get out, Summers." The words were flat and harsh.
Scott lowered his hands. "Logan, what--"
"Out." Logan punctuated the word with the release of his claws. "Now."
Scott frowned. "Rogue?" he questioned, looking at her.
She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Go, Scott. It's fine."
He glanced between Logan and Rogue once more, then turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.
Logan retracted his claws, jaw clenching with quiet fury as he advanced on Rogue, grabbing her arm and dragging her glove off. He stared at the exposed skin of her wrist for a moment before wrapping his fingers around it.
"Logan--"
"How long?" he rasped, fighting to ignore the sparks of sensation that shot through his nerves at the feel of her bare skin against his hand.
She shuddered and shook her head. His eyes were unreadable, and she was nearly sick with fear. He would never understand now why she hadn't told him. He would never be able to comprehend the fear that had gripped her, the insecurity. He couldn't, not after finding out like this.
"Tell me, Rogue."
She nearly cried out, hearing that name fall from his lips. He never called her that, not even in his angriest moments. "Nearly a week," she whispered helplessly.
Logan exhaled shakily, snatching his hand back from her wrist, and Rogue reached for him. "Logan, please. I was--"
"Save it," he spat, turning on his heel and stomping out.
Rogue watched him go, then closed her eyes against the pain washing through her. All of her fears seemed so stupid now, so foolish. And now she'd screwed everything up, made her very biggest fear a reality.
She was losing Logan, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Logan skidded the bike to a stop outside the tiny, rundown building that housed Reggie's Bar. He'd driven right past Lily's, not wanting to drown his sorrows where anyone might find him.
The inside of the bar was smoky even though it was nearly deserted, and Logan planted himself on a stool with a clear purpose in mind - to get as pathetically drunk as was possible for him.
The bartender, a portly older man, wiped his hands and approached as Logan lit his cigar. "Help ya?"
"Jack Daniels, straight," he answered. "The bottle," he growled as the man slid a glass in front of him.
The bartender sighed, then shrugged and flipped the metal spout off the nearly full bottle, placing it on the bar next to Logan's glass. "It's your funeral," he mumbled, ambling away.
That almost made him smile. No, not his funeral, though he could always wish. Maybe, one of these days, it would come true.
Logan shook his head and tossed the contents of his glass back in one swallow. No, he wouldn't think about that yet. Not until at least half the bottle was in his stomach, maybe more. He couldn't.
A quarter of an hour later, the bottle was empty and the world was spinning. Logan smiled, deeply grateful to his friend, the whiskey bottle, for making blessed numbness possible.
"She never loved me, Jack," he murmured, picking the empty bottle up and cradling it. "She couldn't have. I mean, look at her. And look at me." He shook his head, ignoring the concerned looks the bartender was giving him. "She's perfect. Perfect little Marie." He dropped his head, leaning it against the bar. "Perfect..."
It was Logan's secret, the truth he'd always known in his soul and never admitted, not even to himself. He'd always known, deep inside, that she would walk away from him. That, one day, his beautiful Marie would realize that he had nothing to offer her - no life, no future, not even a past to share. And then she would slowly rip him apart, with sad eyes and soft words, and tell him that it wasn't working, and he would die.
He would die.
He wanted to die.
"Hey, buddy. You okay?"
Logan grimaced, wanting the grizzled old man to go back to tending bar and leave him the hell alone. Already, the pleasant buzz was fading, replaced by a hangover he knew would last only minutes. He welcomed the pain, savored the distraction from the ache in his chest. "I'm gonna be alright," he said aloud, raising his head, and he wished the words were true.
The man flashed him a skeptical look. "You just polished off a bottle of JD in fifteen minutes, pal. You ain't gonna be alright. Hell, I'm surprised your ass ain't on the floor."
Holding the aforementioned bottle aloft, Logan cocked an eyebrow. "Don't suppose I could have another?"
"You gotta be kidding me." The man sighed, then leaned a little closer to Logan. "Is there somebody you want me to call? Your wife, maybe?"
Logan's eyes clenched shut for a moment, then he stood, his legs steady, and stared the man down. "I said I'm okay," he growled, yanking out his wallet and tossing a sizeable bill on the bar along with the empty bottle.
The bartender watched in incredulity as he strode out of the bar, not missing a single step.
Once on his bike, Logan had no idea where to go. He wasn't ready to return to the mansion; he had to figure some things out first, like how to keep breathing. So he headed for a spot he and Marie had found a couple of years back, a tiny clearing in the woods near the school.
He lay back in the warm grass and watched the sun fade away, giving up the sky to the moon and stars.
"You fucking moron," he whispered painfully. He'd made a complete idiot of himself that afternoon by suggesting that he and Marie go away for the weekend to lie beneath those stars together. She didn't want him touching her, that much was certain. After all, she hadn't even told him it was a possibility.
A week. She'd known for a week.
Now all of her weird behavior made sense to Logan; she'd been trying to figure out how to let him down easy. She'd figured out how to control her mutation, and it was time for her to move on, see what else was out there for her. If Logan had been a tad bit nobler, like Summers, maybe, then he might have understood.
But he wasn't, and the animal inside him screamed. The beast that had been tamed by the gentle touch of Marie's hands howled for her, for her voice and her eyes and everything that she was. It demanded that he go to her, burn her with his touch until she was branded as deeply as he was.
Until she was his.
It made him want to cry, because he thought she was his, but it had all been an illusion. It was a pretty dream that he was waking from, only to find that reality sucked, and he'd give anything to sleep in ignorance once more.
And still the animal roared.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes until the beast quieted. Instead of peace, he found another voice whispering inside him, one that was hushed and desperate. It reminded him that she wasn't gone yet, that she hadn't left. That he still had time. He still had a chance.
Hope. It was faint, almost undetectable, but it was there.
Marie loved him and, in a way, she always would. Logan knew that much. So he would let her go, let her see what else the world held for her. Maybe then, if he was lucky, she'd come back to him.
Maybe.
But, until then, he had time. He could still touch her, remind her how good it had been. How much he loved her.
God, he loved her.
He climbed to his feet.
Maybe he could have one more night.
Logan held his breath as he opened the door, then released it in a shaky exhale as he spotted the still form on her bed.
She was here.
His booted heels thumped on the hardwood floor as he crossed it, and the woman on the bed stirred. "Logan?" Her voice, husky with sleep, was so full of worry that he shook his head unconsciously.
"It's me, Marie."
She was up in a flash, standing by the bed. "I knew you weren't really gone," she whispered nervously, fumbling with the hem of her thin navy tee shirt. "Your things were still here."
I tried to get hopelessly drunk, because maybe then I could pretend you weren't about to destroy me. "I went out for a while."
She nodded, brushing her tangled hair away from her face. He stepped closer and moved her gloved hands out of the way, smoothing the locks himself. Her words came pouring out in a rush. "Oh God, Logan, I'm so sorr--"
"Don't, Marie," he commanded, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. "Sorry doesn't belong here. Not tonight, not with us." Sorry will come later, baby, he added silently, burying his fingers again in her hair, massaging her scalp.
She moaned, swaying toward him. "Logan, I--"
"Shh." He was afraid to let her speak, afraid that she wouldn't be able to stave off the goodbyes that twisted her inside. "Just this, Marie. Just this." He lowered his lips until they hovered above hers. "Tell me you want this," he begged hoarsely. "Please."
"I do, I want--" He cut off her words by crushing his lips to hers.
It was everything he'd never dared to dream, kissing her. Her lips were cool and dry, and they parted under his with only the slightest urging of his hand at her jaw. His tongue slipped between her lips and teeth, tangling hotly with hers, and he drank in her moan with eagerness.
Logan's hands slid down to bring her hips closer, and he tried to forget that this night was the last time he'd ever get to kiss her, make love to her.
Rogue's head was spinning. The feel of Logan's tongue in her mouth, coaxing and wet, was intoxicating. Her second kiss ever, and it was Logan... It was perfection, and she trembled, a familiar hunger rising within her with frightening speed.
Then he was lifting her body against his, backing her up and lowering her to the bed. He broke away and stared down at her, panting. It hurt to look at her like this, her eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering, her hair spread around her like silk. It hurt and it was paradise, and he traced her swollen lower lip with his thumb.
Rogue gazed up at Logan in confusion. He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before, desire and something else darkening his eyes. His thumb traveled lightly over her lip, and she moved on instinct, closing her mouth around it and sucking lightly.
With a groan, Logan dragged his hand from her face, kissing her deeply. This time, whatever had been clouding his eyes bled through to the kiss, and Rogue stiffened.
Oh God, he tasted like goodbye.
"Logan," she gasped as he drew his lips away from hers, down the curve of her jaw. "Logan, what--"
He stopped at her ear, breathing softly and raggedly. "Marie... Just tonight. Please," he whispered pleadingly, and she wanted to scream.
She didn't want just a night. She wanted forever, and she knew she should stop him, should tell him that a few hours wasn't enough and he had to stop touching her.
But she couldn't. Logan was touching her, he was touching her, and she never thought she'd have this at all... And if she made him stop, then she wouldn't have it, would never.
His mouth closed around her earlobe, and Rogue pushed the pain down, locked it away. She would worry about tomorrow when it came, worry about watching him leave when he was headed for the door; until then, she had Logan in her arms.
"Just tonight," she whispered in defeat, and Logan stiffened for a moment, then relaxed.
He never thought it would hurt so much, hearing her utter those words with such resignation, but it did. And Logan swore to himself that, no matter what happened, Marie would never regret spending these hours in his arms.
Then he felt her hands on his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, and blood roared in his ears. The animal was back, shaking with the need to possess the woman shifting beneath him.
His mate.
"Marie," he gasped, pulling back and ripping his shirt open. Buttons went tumbling to the bed and the floor unheeded as he slid the flannel down his shoulders. Her hands were already at his waist, tugging his other shirts from his waistband, and he yanked them over his head.
Rogue shivered at the sight of his bared skin, then levered herself forward to touch her lips and tongue to his chest, clutching at one of his shoulders with her gloved hand.
Logan growled, pushing her back. As much as he wanted - no, needed - for her to touch him, the need to touch her was far greater. He had to make sure that she felt everything that lay inside him, everything he couldn't put into words.
He needed to be inside her, to hear her scream his name.
He needed to bind her to him.
He quickly divested her of her gloves, and she immediately reached for his skin, grunting when he intercepted her hands. "Logan, I want to touch you. Please."
"Later," he mumbled, moving her hands aside and reaching for the hem of her shirt. He pushed the soft cotton up, following the lines of her body closely with his hands. He heard her whimper through the cloth as it passed over her head, and he steeled himself against the frantic need that tore at him. Then the shirt was off her arms, her hair falling back down in a tangle around her bare shoulders.
He shut his eyes at the picture she presented with her heavy eyes and tousled hair. He needed control, but that was one thing he'd never had with her. She always stripped him of it, and tonight was no exception.
Rogue took advantage of Logan's lowered lids to touch him. Trembling, she slid her palms flat against his broad chest, curling her fingers into the hair that nestled there, beckoning her. He hissed and drew away, shaking his head.
Something akin to a whimper broke from her. "Dammit, Logan... "
He tried to catch her hands before her fingers brushed fire across his chest again, but she was quicker and obviously more determined to touch him than he was to stop her. Her whine changed to a moan, and Logan watched as her teeth sank into her lower lip, her face alight with the wonder of stroking his bare skin.
Something tore free inside Logan, and he wanted to howl. She wanted him, for this if nothing else. And it was something, less than he wanted, but maybe enough to build on, enough to make her stay.
He dove for her mouth, pressing her into the bed with his body, then shifting over to one side. One leg draped over hers, but the space between them allowed his hands to run shakily up and down her body. He silently cursed the cotton that covered her legs, shielding the silk of her naked flesh from his hands. The silent curses morphed into a growl against her lips as his questing fingers reached the waistband of her pajamas.
He fumbled with the drawstring, reluctantly breaking his mouth from hers to look down at the knot. Her thumb brushing softly against his cheek drew his attention away from his task and back to her face.
His breath caught at the sadness that was splashed across her beautiful face, at the tears that softened her eyes. For a moment, he fought against himself, then levered himself up and away from her, moving off the bed slowly.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't stand to see her look like that, knowing he was the cause of it. "Marie, I-- We--" He turned around, away from the sight of her sprawled across the rumpled bed, in the room they'd shared for nearly five years. So long, but not long enough. Never long enough.
The animal screamed, clawing at his mind and heart, insisting that he turn back to her, take what she had offered, no matter how reluctantly.
Rogue lay still for a moment, stunned. Then, before she could think, she slid off the mattress and reached for him. The gentle pressure of her hand on the heated skin of his arm made him look back at her. His jaw was set, his brows furrowed.
"Logan, don't." She let go and dropped her hands to the knot at her waistband, fumbling it loose. He didn't turn around, but his darkened hazel eyes remained fixed on her as she slid the pants down her legs and kicked them off, leaving her clad only in her lacy bra and panties.
A muscle in his jaw jumped as she arched her back slightly, feeling out the clasp of her bra behind her back. She freed it along with a shuddering breath, and she watched him intently as the black lace fell from her breasts, away and to the floor. She pushed the fabric of her panties down over her hips, down her legs, letting them join the clothes that already littered the floor.
Rogue heard the growl that rumbled up from his chest, then felt it as he swept her back into his arms, pushing his body against hers. His lips slanted hungrily over hers, parting the soft, swollen skin. His tongue dove between her teeth, licking and plundering, as one hand cradled the back of her head, fingers twisted in her hair, tilting her face back.
She clung to him, kneading the skin of his back, reveling in the shift of the muscles beneath it. Perfect, he was so perfect, and he was hers, even if it was only for a little while longer...
Logan lifted her off her feet, lowering her back to the bed, groaning as one impossibly long leg hooked around his waist, drawing him down into the welcoming cradle of her hips. "Marie... " He could smell the hot scent of her body, familiar and arousing, and it made him dizzy. Through the haze of desire that surrounded him, misery raised its head, only to be batted away by need and determination.
He would have this. They would have this.
She gasped and shivered as his lips reluctantly left hers, tracking down the pulse that throbbed in her throat. It was a new feeling for both of them, the hot dampness of his lips and tongue on the silken stretch of skin over her collarbone. He exhaled slowly, then dipped his tongue out to trace the hollow between her breasts.
Shaking with restraint, Logan slipped one hand under his lover's body and up to cup her shoulder, his other hand finding purchase on the lean rise of her ribcage. His thumb barely skimmed the lower swell of one alabaster mound, and Rogue jerked, her head tossing. He nuzzled his cheek into one soft breast, glorying in the electric moan that spilled from her as a rough sideburn grazed her nipple.
Rogue struggled to open her eyes as Logan's lips trailed a path to the aching tip of her breast, replacing the tantalizing scratch of hair with the wet softness of his tongue. She writhed beneath him, her hands everywhere, on his back and in his hair, urging him closer. "Logan... "
He raised his eyes without raising his mouth, and he watched as her head tilted back into the pillow. Her back arched, pressing her breasts upward, and he opened his mouth further, taking in as much of her fevered flesh as possible.
Spurred on by the soft gasps and moans coming from her, Logan moved lower, his tongue marking a wet slide down over her ribs and stomach. His hand curled into the bedspread, clenching tightly, as Rogue's hips instinctively bucked.
"God, Logan... "
He bypassed the dip of her navel, stopping only briefly to skim his lips over the sharp crest of one hipbone. He wished he had the time and the self-control to linger longer, to drag it out for hours until she was half-crazy with sensation, wanting and seeing and feeling nothing but him.
But he didn't have either, so he leaned back and hooked his hands between and under her thighs, urging them apart.
She resisted the movement, twisting her hips and trying to press her legs back together. "Logan, I--"
"Shh," he interrupted, his hands growing more insistent. He had to taste her, feather his lips against her nakedness and push her over the edge, because he knew he wouldn't be long in following. "Let me, Marie."
She looked down at him kneeling between her thighs, his chest heaving and lightly sheened with sweat. His stomach muscles rippled above the waistband of his jeans, and she licked her lips, eliciting a groan from him. "Take them off, Logan." She didn't have to elaborate.
The groan became a growl. "Too dangerous." If he removed his clothes, he'd be tempted - so tempted - to just take her, to drive into her body until ecstasy overtook him... And then his time, his chance, would be gone.
He had to show her how good it could be first.
But Rogue raised herself onto her elbows. "Off." Her heavy, honeyed demand left no room for argument, and Logan arched an eyebrow as he slid off the bed to stand at its foot.
Rogue shivered as she watched Logan lift the buckle of his belt free. His fingers dropped to the button of his jeans, and she wanted to crawl to the end of the bed and help him. The only thing that stopped her was the inexplicable knowledge that Logan didn't want her touching him too much.
She wouldn't allow herself to wonder what that meant. She couldn't, not when the answer might mean that Logan didn't want to be thinking of her...
No.
She sat up further. "Hurry up, Logan. Please."
Her hair fell across one side of her face, brown and silver blending together on her skin, and Logan yanked the zipper of his jeans, narrowly missing an injury. He cursed softly and kicked free of the fabric, his legs and hands shaking.
She fixed her gaze on his manhood, on the rigid flesh jutting towards her. The tip glistened with evidence of the desire he was fighting to contain, and her breath caught in her throat.
Then the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and his hands were once again on her legs. He lifted one, sliding his palm down along the outer edge of her thigh as his lips touched the inside of her knee. Her whimpering gasp knotted his stomach, but he waited until her arms relaxed, until she was lying back on the bed once more. He leaned forward, whispering her name.
Rogue gasped and turned her face into the pillow as Logan kissed her, his lips and tongue touching her the way they had hundreds of times before. But it had never felt this way through fabric, no matter how gossamer-thin, and she shook. "Logan! Oh God, stop... Please... "
He didn't stop, though her muffled pleas drew his gaze to her face. It was buried against the pillowcase, and he growled, lifting a hand to her stomach. It fluttered beneath his flesh, just like the rest of her, and he paused. "Look at me, Marie."
The instant her head turned, eyes locked with his and glazed with a pleasure so intense it looked close to pain, he brushed his tongue over her sex again, drawing her up off the bed. "God!"
Logan lightened his touch, wanting to draw out the way her body was shivering under him. His eyes clenched shut as she bucked again, whimpering something that could have been his name and clutching the bedspread in her fists. His fingers clutched her hips, trying to hold her still, but her shaking was uncontrollable.
Jesus Christ, it hurt, feeling and tasting and touching her. It hurt like fucking hell on fire. And it was beyond ecstasy. He turned his head and pressed his lips reverently to the baby-soft skin of her inner thigh for just a moment. "Love you, Marie," he whispered, knowing that the hushed words would never reach her ears. Then he shifted his attentions back with a deep caress he knew would send her reeling over the edge.
"Logan... Logan, I want-- Oh, God... " Her voice trailed off in a choked gasp and she twisted beneath him. Her trembling escalated into shudders, and she cried out.
Rogue bit into her lower lip to keep from screaming as her orgasm hit her full force. Waves of bliss crashed through her, stealing her breath and threatening to do the same to her sanity. She concentrated on not babbling, not losing control and crying out her love for the man who was slowly crawling his way up her body.
Logan trailed his lips across her flushed skin, soaking in her response, trying to memorize it. His hand found her cheek, his thumb brushing across her trembling mouth as he reached out with his other hand, fumbling with the nightstand drawer.
Her head turned to follow the movement. "We don't need... " She bit her lip at his questioning look. "Those pills Jean gave me?" Her flush grew deeper. "For my cramps?"
"Oh." He slid the drawer closed with a thud, nodding. "I remember." He closed his eyes against the wide-eyed look she wore, dropping his face to nuzzle hers. "Are you..."
"I'm okay, Logan." She wiggled beneath him, her legs tangling with his as he shifted, moving slowly.
He'd been in this bed with her thousands of times, had lain with his head next to her heart and listened to it thump. Sometimes it was a slow, steady beat, and other times it would pound with excitement and release. Curling his body around hers was nothing new, even if it had never been with bare skin sliding.
Still, as he moved to settle his hips between her thighs, he trembled.
This was different.
This was possession, and the animal in him recognized it, thrilled to it.
Demanded it.
Logan forced himself to move slowly, sliding his hardened flesh into hers inch by torturous inch. He watched as Rogue's eyes squeezed shut, as a single tear seeped from beneath each lid.
"Hurt?" he rasped unevenly, fighting for control. He would not cause her pain. He wouldn't.
She opened dark, liquid eyes, and her hands grasped at his shoulders. "No, no," she whispered. "It feels... " The words became lost in a strangled gasp. "Logan... "
He leaned in, pressing his lips to her temple, picking up the salt of her tears with his tongue. "Marie." He wished that he could tell her, that he could find the words to describe how he'd dreamed of holding her just like this. Of her body surrounding him, clutching him.
Loving him.
But there were no words.
Then she shifted, bringing her feet up to brush his hips, and everything was forgotten but that one moment and the incandescent explosion of sensation that rocked him.
Her fingers in his hair urged his face to hers, and she stabbed her tongue past his lips, kissing him hungrily as he began to rock his hips against hers.
She released a muffled moan against his lips, and he nestled his face in the hollow of her neck. "God," he gasped, struggling for control, for breath, for... everything. "Oh, God... "
"Logan... " Rogue arched her back and nearly whimpered as Logan's movements grew surer, more powerful. She ran her hands shakily over his back and hips, clutching him to her as she felt the tightness, the tension, build, all over again, but so much deeper this time. Stronger. "Never like this, Logan... " she murmured. "It's never... "
"I know," he ground out, still pressing his mouth into her neck. He groaned, his body pushing hers further toward completion. Too fast, it was too fast, but he couldn't stop it. Couldn't slow his climb to ecstasy, not with her soft hands dragging him heavenward and her mouth open on his ear.
"Look at me, Logan," she whispered, brushing her lips over his temple. She wanted to stare in his eyes, to see the pleasure in his voice reflected there. "Please."
"Marie... " Her name was a plea as his hips thrust unevenly. "I can't." And it was the truth. There would be no way for him to walk away, to let her go, not after he'd seen the expression he knew was in her eyes.
It would be the look she always wore, the one that said she'd never lived for anything but him. It screamed possession, completion...
Love.
Forever.
He couldn't take seeing that, not when he knew it wasn't true. Because he would want it to be true, want it with everything in him, and he might not survive losing her.
"I can't," he panted again, tightening his hands on her hip and shoulder. "I... Oh, Christ... " He clutched her closer, grinding into her sharply.
Rogue bit down on her lip as rapture and anguish rushed through her, each battling for her attention. Elation at the feel of his body on hers, inside hers, won, and she bucked against him, incoherent sounds spilling from her. "Ahhh... Logan!"
Then she couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and there was nothing but him, nothing. Just his harsh panting and the way he moved, and she shuddered uncontrollably, pleasure surging through every cell of her body and out into the blackness that surrounded her.
She cried out, and it could have been his name or a prayer, or even a curse, for all she knew, because she knew nothing beyond the fact that he was still inside her and it felt good and right and like it would never, ever end.
Ever.
Logan heard her strangled scream, then felt it as it threw him headfirst into madness. His mind shut down as he opened his mouth against her skin and fought to rein in the rough heat that was reaching through his body, seeking release. But the blinding, pulsing heat was impossible to conquer, because it was Marie beneath him, her slick limbs and shaking fingers skating over him, her body still fluttering around his.
Marie.
He thrust forward one last time before the world stopped turning, the universe itself shifting to revolve around the two of them. Logan's mouth worked soundlessly against her skin as everything exploded, passion and intensity and despair flowing out of him in a desperate rush.
Then her fingers were in his hair, tugging his head back, and he quaked when his eyes met hers, when he saw the ardor that hadn't yet had time to glaze out of her. He still couldn't think, so it was sheer emotion and instinct that propelled his lips to hers, that opened and stroked and devoured. Pure need. And she was still throbbing around him, and suddenly Logan could reason again.
What he knew in that moment was that he could never, ever lose her. She was as much a part of him as the heart that beat achingly in his chest, and if she walked out the door forever, he would never stop loving her as much as he did at that instant.
She would always be his.
"I'm crushing you," he mumbled into her mouth, rolling to one side and reaching out to gather her body close.
She resisted the tugging of his hands, merely lay as he pulled the covers up around them both. As the sheet touched her, she blinked, and then shifted onto her side, facing away from him.
Rogue curled up and tried not to cry. Suddenly, what had felt so good and so right felt... wrong. Cheap. Like they'd used each other, both knowing that there was nothing for them beyond the bed and the animal pleasure they could find in it. Nothing, because Logan was leaving and goodbyes were all they had left.
For Christ's sake, he wouldn't even look at her when they made love, had kept his face buried tightly in her neck, as if he hadn't wanted to see her face...
His hand touched her back lightly. "Marie? You okay?"
She jerked away sharply from the almost-loving caress. "I'm fine." It was a hoarse whisper, one she knew he wouldn't believe, and she climbed quickly out of the bed, reaching for the closest item of clothing she could find.
It turned out to be one of his flannel shirts, and she shrugged it on and clutched it, unbuttoned, around her body, because she'd ripped the buttons off, she remembered that now. They were scattered on the floor, and she'd be finding them for weeks, and she knew she'd cry like the fucking child she was whenever she ran across one.
"Marie?"
God, he sounded so concerned, even now. She had to get away from him before she broke down, embarrassed him and humiliated herself.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," she informed Logan shortly, rushing for the bathroom like the hounds of hell were on her heels.
Logan stared at the door as she slammed it behind her, a torturous ache overtaking the sleepy pleasure within him. A shower. He closed his eyes. She couldn't wait to get the feel, the scent, of him off her skin.
She couldn't wait to be rid of him.
Logan shifted and reached absently for the bedside drawer, drawing out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. His lips and hands shook as he lit one, drawing deeply. He briefly considered getting the hell out before the water started running in the bathroom; he'd rather be stabbed through the heart than listen to Marie scrub the traces of what they'd shared off her body.
But in the end, he just lay there, staring at the smoke curling up into the air and hurting like he never had before.
Marie flipped the shower knob completely to scalding, fighting tears. She'd used Logan. She'd used him, someone she loved and never wanted to hurt. She'd told herself that it wasn't using if he wanted her, if she loved him, but she'd been wrong. He didn't want her. He'd tried to stop, and she'd all but begged him to give her something, anything she could remember when he was gone...
It didn't matter how much she loved him. He hadn't wanted to touch her, and she'd practically forced him to.
Using.
God, she felt so dirty, and all she wanted to do was climb under the burning water and wash it away, everything. Only...
He might already be gone when she walked out of the bathroom, and what was on her skin was all she had left of him. All she would have left, and she couldn't bear to lose that, not yet.
In the end, she stood outside the shower, shrouded in steam, with her forehead pressed against cold tile. And she wept bitter, silent tears, her shoulders shaking with the force of sobs she couldn't liberate, because Logan would hear.
Logan was on his fourth cigarette when Rogue emerged from the bathroom, and he blinked in confusion, because her hair was dry and she still wore his shirt. But the questions that rose in him were silenced by her tense, pained words.
"Have you figured out yet where you're gonna go?"
He sucked in a breath as realization hit him with the force of a body blow. He stared at her as she shifted from one foot to the other, her arms crossed nervously across her chest.
She was kicking him out. Not only out of her life, her heart, but out of the school. Out of his home.
"Jesus, Marie," he choked. "That's fucking harsh."
Then he was on his feet, fumbling for his jeans in the light spilling from the bathroom, pulling them up his legs and trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes. He chanced a look at her, and shock radiated from her face, as if she hadn't known he would be so upset by her words.
Like fucking hell, she hadn't known. She knew. She just didn't give a shit anymore.
Fuck.
He had to get out of there.
With his chest and feet still bare, Logan stalked to the closet and yanked the door open, finding his old knapsack with sickening ease.
Rogue watched a furious Logan pull jeans and shirts out of the closet and stuff them in his bag. She had no idea how she'd angered him; she was trying to be brave, trying not to let him see just how completely he was breaking her...
With a scathing look, he turned to their dresser, mumbling under his breath as he emptied the drawers of his belongings. "Holy shit, Marie," he growled. "I didn't think you'd-- You know what? Fuck it."
"Logan?" She didn't want it to end badly. Anything but that, please God, because she needed sweeter memories of him, had to have them if she was to keep on living.
He froze in the process of shoving one last handful of socks into his bag and shook his head, not looking at her. "Didn't think you'd be in such a goddamned hurry for me to get out."
"Logan, no. That's not--"
"Bullshit," he spat, slamming the drawer shut and viciously opening the next. "Christ, I thought we... Forget it." She watched in horrified silence as he dragged a tee shirt over his head and sat down to pull on his boots. "Just do me a favor and pack up the rest of my stuff, all right? I'll call Xavier and tell him where to send it."
He was leaving. Tonight.
Now.
Logan tugged viciously on his bootlaces, tying them quickly and haphazardly, no thought in his mind but escape, freedom from the weight of her stare bearing down on him. He stood up and reached for his knapsack, halting when he heard an agonized sob. His eyes flew to Rogue.
She was leaning weakly against the wall, her face screwed up into a grimace and tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Logan," she gasped. "I'm sorry... " She rocked herself gently back and forth, repeating the words silently, over and over.
His fury and hurt drained away instantly, replaced by an elemental need to hold her, to make sure that, no matter what it took, she stopped crying. Stopped hurting.
"God, Marie... " His steps echoed softly as he crossed the room. "Marie, baby, don't."
She cried harder.
He reached out until her face was in his hands, his fingers curled into her hair and his forehead inches from hers. "Marie, don't cry. Please."
Her hands flew up to seize his wrists, holding them tightly, but her tears didn't stop. "Logan... "
His heart clenched painfully. "Marie, I'm sorry. I am, baby."
"No," she rasped. "No, Logan... I never should have... We sh-shouldn't have... "
"No." Panic gripped him. "No, Marie. Don't be sorry for that. Ever." He tilted forward until his forehead rested lightly against hers. "Don't ever regret what we shared, baby," he whispered. "I don't."
She gulped and nodded shakily, her fingers still wrapped around his wrists. She was silent for a long time, speaking only with the ragged breaths she drew in and out. Then she said, "Keep in touch?" Her voice was low and almost hopeful.
It was all he had left to wish for, and there went that aching throb in his heart again. "I don't think so," he told her gently. He couldn't do it, couldn't spend his days praying she'd call, and his nights regretting that she hadn't. He had to forget, had to try. There was no future, no sense, in hanging on to someone you couldn't have. He would love her, but he wouldn't dream about impossible things. "You'll...tell everyone I said goodbye?"
Her face dissolved into tears again, and Logan sighed, raising his head to the focus on the ceiling. "Please, please, Marie... "
"I love you, Logan." It was quick and desperate, and Marie knew it, and she was ashamed of herself. But not ashamed enough to want to call back the words. "I do."
"God, you can't... " Logan's hands left her face and landed on the wall. She couldn't do that, couldn't whisper that she loved him when she was making him go... It raised bleeding welts on his breaking heart, and it made the Wolverine scream inside him.
Then he lowered his eyes to hers again, and the screaming didn't stop.
It got louder.
He shoved his hands into her hair, onto her shoulders, and he was pressing his face against hers. "Don't do this." At first he tried to pretend that he wasn't begging, but the sorrow inside him eclipsed pride, and he soon stopped trying. "Please, Marie." Her face was warm under his lips. "Please. If you love me, just a little bit, then I can make it work. I can, I swear... "
Rogue shuddered as the meaning of his words hit her. It couldn't be that simple. It just couldn't be. "Logan, I don't want you to go." Her arms snaked around his shoulders, clinging frantically. "I never wanted that. Ever. Is that... ?"
Hope flooded him. "Then why... ?" He trailed off as her lips touched his chin and jaw. "Why didn't you tell me you had control of your power?" It was tempting, the thought that she wanted him to stay, that she loved him, but he couldn't believe. Not yet. "Why?"
"I was scared, Logan. Just scared," she swore. "I never wanted to lose you, and I thought you were mad at me, that you--"
His lips crushed hers, and this time he could feel the longing in her kiss, the devotion. It was heady and consuming and better than anything he'd ever known. "I'm not going anywhere," he muttered.
"Damn right you're not."
Epilogue
"You scared the bejesus outta me, Logan."
"Wait a minute... I scared you?"
"You almost left."
"You almost let me leave."
"I wouldn't have, you know. I woulda followed you."
"And I never would have made it out of the garage, darlin'. Not without you."
"Just... Don't ever--"
"I'm not gonna leave, Marie. I can't."
"You promise?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I promise."
the end
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
This bunny came straight from Diebin Farms. She grows some huge, tenacious suckers out there! Thanks to Gowdie, Nancy, and Jengrrrl, who all helped me figure out how to complete this never-ending monstrosity. ;)Look, whatever you do, don't stop reading after you see the song lyrics. LOL They'll depress you anyway, and you may as well give me a chance.