Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

Comments: I wouldn't exactly call this angsty.maybe just dark. This was kind of what Naked Animal Guy was initially supposed to be a story about a Logan who's just been let go by the government. But that idea turned into NAG and my brbf still wanted a serious story about a recently released Logan. Because I am such an 'unrelenting pain in the ass' (her words) and because I held a grudge over the taunts of 'Partners wasn't that dark na-na-na-na-na' that my brbf threw at me (well, OK, maybe she didn't say the na-na part.), I kept Logan in custody, I threw Rogue in with him, and this story came out.

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The first time they threw her in his cell, he knew something was changing. They'd always kept him separate, and well guarded. But they'd left him alone for the better part of two days, and the guard just dumped her in and left. The force field was still in place, though, so things hadn't changed all that much. He still wasn't going anywhere.

And she was unconscious, so neither was she, even if she had some kind of mutant power that could counteract the force field. He supposed they wouldn't have put her in here if she did, but you never know. Well, time for him to find out and time for her to wake up. He couldn't waste the chance he had with the guard gone. He had to at least try.

"Hey." He kicked at her a little with one foot. She didn't react at all. "Hey, wake up." Another, slightly sharper kick also failed to produce any movement. A thought occurred to him then - maybe she wasn't out, maybe she was dead or dying, and that's why they put her in with him.

"Hey." This time he leaned down to her, and shook her shoulder. That produced a soft moan, but still no movement. At least he knew she wasn't dead yet. Maybe he could rouse her.

When his hand moved to turn her face, he shot back, feeling a jolt from the touch. It felt almost the same as when his jailers used electroshock on him, but backwards somehow. More like the burning and pain was because of power flowing out of him, instead of being forced in.

"They got you. You're in some fuckin' government lab." He kept his distance. He was hurt, and his healing factor had been slowed by the experiments. He didn't want to chance another touch, and he wasn't sure if she would try to attack him.

She rubbed at her head, and he noticed a line of dried blood coming from her ear. She also had bruises on her neck and shoulders that were visible when she moved. The clothing she wore - a torn blouse and loose fitting but shredded pants - did little to cover her form.

He looked quizically at her and almost laughed out loud. 'Are you hurt?' He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been hurting any more. Each day here brought some fresh torture. When they weren't testing his healing factor by burning, drowning, or electrocution, they were cutting into him, making "improvements."

'Are you hurt?' - this whole place was designed to achieve exactly that goal. And there was no way out, not even death, not for him. It just went on and on. He'd long since lost track of how many weeks or months he'd been here, and he'd almost stopped hoping for a way to escape.

"Please, please answer me...are you hurt? Did I hurt you?" The girl. She was closer to him all of a sudden, and he cursed himself for getting lost in thought. She was close enough to reach out and touch him, to inflict some of that hurt. But she wasn't - she was kneeling in front of him, looking up at him with big, terrified eyes.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I hurt you." She sat back on her heels a little, and he could see the bloody, cut up soles of her bare feet peeking out from behind her shoulder. Now that he took a good look, she had cuts all over her body. He wondered if they were taking samples of her skin, or testing how it responded to different things.

"I'm fine. Is somethin' - somethin's different around here lately. They never put anyone in here with me before." He thought he'd better get whatever information he could from her. She might not be long for this world. She didn't heal like he did, and it seemed that she was getting some of the same treatment.

"I know, I had my own cell too. But there was some kind of fight, or explosion, or something in the part of the complex that I was in. It was destroyed, and they started doing work on me in a different lab than usual."

Interesting. He wondered if maybe some renegade band of mutants found out about this place and tried to make a raid. Like those tree-huggers used to do to free test animals from cosmetic company labs. That made him smirk. No wonder they named him Wolverine... he really was just another test animal.

"I've been here for nine weeks and four days. I think. It's hard to tell because I keep losing consciousness from the pain, or they knock me out with drugs. But, as close as I can figure, nine weeks and four days." It still meant something to her, time. He reflected that it wasn't that much longer after that he'd stopped counting - somewhere around four months. And that was a long time ago.

"Well, mostly, they just do stuff with my skin - you know, make me touch different people, or animals. They burn it, freeze it, peel it off to see how it grows back, put different chemicals on it. They...they do some things just for fun. Bad things."

"They like cuttin' me. Just to do it, sometimes, just to have the fun of watchin' my skin heal back up. They like cuttin' me wide open, stickin' their hands in, pokin' at my internal organs and shit. They like electric shock too. Like to see me shake and see the smoke comin' outta my head. And drownin'. That's what I fuckin' hate the most."

"They..they like to beat me. They like to rape me. It's - it's harder, more complicated because of my skin, but they found lots of ways to do it. They like to cut me too. My feet - I tried to run off of a lab table one day, and they caught me and cut my feet as punishment." She cried when she said it but her voice held. She looked almost relieved to have someone to tell these horrible things to, to confess them, in a way, and he supposed that's what made him do it too. If you say it out loud to someone other than the people who've done it to you, it makes it more real, not just some nightmare, not just some sign that you're going crazy or that the whole world has. That's comforting, somehow.

"Hey...are you OK? I mean, you looked pretty bad when they brought ya in." Not that there was anything he could do about it if she wasn't, but it seemed somehow right or proper to ask. He remembered at least that much about basic human interaction.

"I feel a little better actually. I think - I think when you touched me, it helped. I mean, your healing thing. When I touch mutants, I get their powers for a little while. I think your healing thing helped."

"Sure. Look why don't you sleep up here? Might as well get some rest while you can. That'll help you heal too." The cot was marginally better than the floor equally as hard, but somewhat warmer since it was at least off the frozen ground. And there was a blanket. A thin, threadbare blanket, but it was something.

"Thanks. I - I think I will sleep, if you don't mind. Would you - if you hear them coming or something, would you wake me? I'd rather..I just like to be awake when they take me, you know?"

"Yeah. I will." He knew. Waking up already strapped in or submerged in a tank was a hell of a lot more jarring than being awake for the walk over. At least that way, you got a few minutes to try to brace yourself for whatever was coming. Not that it usually helped much, but you took what you could get in the way of comfort around here.

She opened her eyes and roused herself a little, a temporary escape from the sleep already claiming her. "Thanks, you know, for everything. And for not hurting me."

"Don't say that." He jerked it out, half upset by the knowledge that she'd expected him to hurt her just like those bastards had, and half unsettled by the sincerity with which she thanked him.

"Hey. Wake up. They're coming." It was a smaller contingent than usual. Eight guards, two carrying syringes filled with the fluid that knocked him out. He wondered if it would be just him this time, or if they wanted Marie too. He guessed just him, at least first, because of the smaller contingent.

"This can go easy or hard, Wolverine." They always said that. And he always chose hard. It was a point of pride with him, proving he could take it. But with Marie in here with him..well, the hard way could result in bad things for her.

"Fine. Fuck you. Let's go." He glanced back at Marie, who looked absolutely terrified. In the first second after he saw that look, he felt confused. Why should she be scared? They were taking him, not her. In the next few seconds it sunk in that she was scared *because* they were taking him, she was scared *for* him. And after that, he tried not to think about it anymore.

"Oh my God!" Marie was in the cell when they returned Logan. They'd come for her in the mean time, of course. And today's torture was light compared to the usual - just a little burning with some chemicals on some skin on her forearm, and a moderate beating. Broken ribs to be sure, but no other damage. Logan, on the other hand, was in much worse shape.

He had large gashes and burns across his back - electrical burns that were healing very, very slowly. His leg was bleeding from a deep puncture wound of some sort at the thigh. And he appeared to be drugged, completely out of it.

"Mmm..hmmmm" Marie tried to pick him up and put him on the cot, but he was too heavy, and the broken ribs caused too much pain when she tried to lift him. So she settled for trying to make him comfortable with the blanket on the floor. She put it under him, then rolled him onto his stomach, leaving his back exposed. That position put a little too much pressure on the puncture wound on the front of his thigh, so Marie shifted his leg to alleviate that as best she could.

"It's OK, Logan, it's OK. You're healing." She wasn't sure he'd hear her, but she wanted to have something to say, something to do. He turned his head toward her, and reached out a hand blindly. She scooted her covered leg over a little so that his hand would hit it. He mumbled something she didn't quite catch. "Don't talk now. It's OK. It's OK." She was crying now, beginning to really weep. She rocked back and forth a little, trying to calm herself. She'd always thought that the worst part of all this was being alone - having no one to comfort you, having no human contact outside of the doctors and guards. Now she was rethinking that....watching someone else go through this - God, it hurt too. It hurt a lot.

"Yes, I'm right here. It's OK. You're going to be OK." He was healing, a little faster now. She wondered if it was the drugs that slowed the process. Must have been. He had healed so quickly from her touch.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Logan, just rest now. It's OK." She began stroking his head, running her bare fingers against his hair. His hand tightened it's grip on her leg a little, but the rest of him seemed to be relaxing.

"You get in bed and sleep." He still wasn't quite coherent. But the drugs were beginning to wash out a little. Marie thought that meant he'd have to be OK. He just needed rest and time.

"Marie, Wake up." He smelled them coming early the next morning before he even heard them. And they smelled different. Panicked, scared. That could be bad. Very bad.

She was wide awake by the time he finished speaking. He'd put her in bed late last night, when he finally felt a little more like himself. She'd fallen asleep on the cold floor beside him, and he'd somehow been sleeping on top of the blanket. He remembered dreaming about her holding him, trying to soothe his ravaged skin, running her fingers through his hair. They were nice dreams, and he wanted to thank her for them somehow, even if they weren't real. Putting her in bed had seemed like the best thing, maybe the only thing, he could do for her now. And it seemed to have helped her to rest. She sat up in the bed, shook off the blanket, and waited.

There were just two of them this time. Just two guards, and they were both carrying guns. One carried a syringe filled with liquid. Their uniforms had scortch marks and blood. Their faces were angry, grim, and determined. The two prisoners exchanged a look, and they both knew that the guards weren't coming for an experiment or for 'fun' this time. They were coming to kill them.

Logan decided then and there he wasn't going out without a fight. Guns wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't kill him, but whatever was in that syringe might. He exchanged another look with Marie, hoping she somehow understood intuitively what he was going to do. She rose and stood behind him.

"Time for you two to go." The one entering first held the syringe. Logan backed away from him, coming closer and closer to Marie. Both guards were covered head to toe, complete with ski masks, but there were tears in the uniforms. "Now, now, be a good little mutie and take your medicine." Logan continued his slow march backwards. Marie had remained perfectly still, trembling a little, but making no deliberate movement.

As soon as Logan passed her, the instant the guard pulled level with her and within her reach, she acted. Poking a finger into a tear on the sleeve of his uniform, her bare hands found his flesh. He began to seizure as her gift asserted itself, and in that same moment, the other guard raised his gun to fire.

Moving faster than even he thought possible, Logan lunged past Marie and the dying guard, blocking the path of the bullet and absorbing it into his chest. It didn't even slow his progress. The guard fired over and over, emptying the clip into Logan, many shots coming point blank as Logan finally reached him.

Claws extending, adrenaline pumping, he tore into the guard with a frenzy. He slashed, broke, and tore at the guard's body relentlessly. He was dead within seconds of the first blow, but that no longer mattered to Logan. In fact, he would never know how long he spent reducing the guard to tiny bits of flesh and bone before he heard Marie's voice and felt her pull at his arm.

Turning away from the mess that used to be the guard, he fled the complex with her trailing close behind. The whole place was burning, and there appeared to still be some kind of fight in progress. Ignoring the fallen scientists, fighting and dying guards and soldiers, and the black leather clad people who seemed to be winning the fight, Logan and Marie sped through the chaos to the exit.

They broke into fresh air, clean, open air, and it felt like being reborn. They were in a field of pure white snow, framed by a line of evergreen trees in the distance ahead of them. Marie stopped for a moment, stunned, and Logan turned back to her.

She looked at him with a wide smile, and nodded, following behind as he ran for the tree line. Neither one looked back, and both ran as hard and fast as they could. However, their escape came to an abrupt halt just a few yards from the tree line, when their path was blocked by a white-haired woman in black leather who seemed to simply fall out of the sky.

As Marie scrambled to stop running, to avoid running into Logan as he halted, her bare feet couldn't find purchase on the slick snow, and she fell. Logan stopped but seemed to take no notice of Marie, keeping his eyes on the white-haired woman. He growled at her, feral and threatening. Marie tried to regain her balance, tried to stand, but it was almost as though all her energy had deserted her as soon as her forward momentum stopped. She gave up after a few tries, sitting in the snow.

"I am here to help you." The woman's voice was even, soothing, but that didn't really put either Logan or Marie at ease. They'd both heard their captors use that tone many times, usually in advance of some of the worst tortures.

"Logan, behind you." Marie's voice, shaky and thin. Logan turned in response to see another black leather clad person, this time a man with his hands perched on the side of what looked like elaborate sunglasses. Logan gave him a growl as well, and moved closer to Marie's position on the ground, alternating looks between the two strangers.

Sparing a glance at Marie after a few seconds of the silent standoff, he realized for the first time just how badly she still was hurt. She sat in the snow, shivering and crying, and staining the pure white floor beneath her with bleeding feet. She, too, was looking back and forth between the intruders, and Logan could smell the pain and fear rolling off of her in waves. But she was thinking something too - chewing a little on her lower lip as her eyebrows came together above big, haunted eyes. Deciding something, she looked up at him. "Logan..." She said it in a conspiratorial whisper, so low that even he could barely hear it, and in as calm a voice as she could manage. "..run. You can get away. I won't make it. Go. It's your chance."

Everything in him turned at that moment. He knew he should go, should run. Every remembered terror screamed at him to run. But everything else in him, everything that was divorced from pain and suffering, everything that had once been human, screamed at him to stay with Marie. He knew he knew exactly what he'd be abandoning her to face. And he just couldn't do that. He would not be the person responsible for that. It would mean that he was the same as them, the same as the people that would be doing it to her directly. It was really that simple. In the end, when he thought back on it later, he wondered at having given the matter any consideration whatsoever.

"Stay away," Logan warned as he reached down to pick Marie up, careful of her exposed skin and his still-extended claws. He knew she was right, she wouldn't make it across the snow on bare, cut feet. He could, though. He could make it across snow on bare feet, carrying her, and he could move quickly. She clung to him tightly, and he retracted the claws on one hand, shifting it beneath her for support and leaving his other hand free to fend off the strangers.

Backing toward the woman, trusting Marie to warn him of any action she might take, he growled a final time at the man. "Please listen." The man's hand was still near those glasses. Logan didn't trust that. Not one bit. "We just want to help you. You need medical attention."

Logan felt Marie's grip tighten painfully at those words. He suspected that she shared his feelings on that subject - they'd both had enough medical attention to last several lifetimes. Logan kept walking.

This time, it was Marie who replied. "Get out of the way. I'll hurt you if I have to." For someone who didn't know her power, it must've seemed such an empty threat. She looked so frail, being carried that way.

"I will not block your path. But, child - " As soon as those words hit Logan's ears, he decided to put them to the test. He smelled others coming, and he couldn't take a chance on that. He broke and ran for the trees, drawing a startled gasp from Marie. He moved quickly, dusting past the white-haired woman and finally disappearing into the cover of the forest.

"Here, wrap it around you." Marie did as he asked, drawing the bear skin around her, fur side toward her for warmth. It smelled horrid very much like the dead animal it was but it was warming her. Logan, for his part, seemed unaffected by the cold. He'd run them miles and miles into the forest, not stopping until he could smell only them, could hear only animal sounds, could taste only clean forest air on the wind. When he'd set her down in the snow, promising to return with food, she thought she might freeze before he came back. The run and the cold had taken it's toll on her.

But he came back quickly, and with a large black bear. She was fascinated by watching him use the claws to gut and skin it. He had incredible control with the claws...the fine movements he used to separate the skin were amazing to her. She told him so, and he smiled a little quirkily and said it was the first time he'd ever used them for something practical, something good.

Now, huddling in the skin, watching as he tried to start a fire, scraping his claws against stone for a spark, she finally began to hope a little. There might be a way to live through this.

"Don't worry 'bout me." That came out a little more harshly than he intended, but he really didn't want her to worry about him. She needed to worry about herself. She wasn't in good shape. They were safe for now, for the moment, but that could change in a heartbeat, he knew. And she was in no shape for a fight now.

"Logan..do you think we'll make it?" The wishful, wistful note in her voice and in her eyes lit into him. Looking at her as she asked that brown, blood-matted hair sticking out of the bear skin, still trembling a little, pale - she gave new meaning to the words 'wretchedly pitiful.' But he felt it, felt how much she wanted to live, to make it through this with some semblance of herself intact, and he wanted to make it so for her. He wanted to very badly.

"We will." She smiled at that, and seemed to accept it as truth. "We'll be fine. We just gotta find some shelter, that's all. We'll be fine." Actually, they had to find safe shelter, adequate shelter from the cold. And they needed food. And better clothing. And medicine - she was hurt badly, and her feet were only the most inconvenient injury. Logan guessed that she still had some broken ribs, probably a concussion, and several of the cuts inflicted on her needed stitches. They'd be lucky if she wasn't already harboring some kind of infection in those cuts. "Marie?"

"I got an idea." He wasn't sure it was a good idea. If anything happened to him, if she killed him, not only would he be dead, but she'd be screwed. He was pretty sure that even healthy, she wouldn't last long on her own out in the woods. But it was an idea, an option, and he felt like he should offer it to her. "I could touch you. You'd heal."

"I don't think so. Pretty much everythin' they tried back there wouldn't kill me. But I might be out for a while, and you'd have to fend for yourself. I think - I think you'd be OK for a little while with the bear skin, the meat to eat, and the fire going. But you're right, there's a chance you could kill me. If that happened, I'm worried you might not make it outta the woods on your own."

"You're hurt bad, ain't ya?" From what he knew of her, she must be to be considering it. She seemed like the kind of person who was extraordinarily reluctant to inflict any pain on someone else, probably because she knew so well herself how it felt to be on the receiving end.

"II think I'll be OK...I.." Tears were coming from those big brown eyes now, not tears of pain, but of sadness. She wanted to say yes, to do it, and she was starting to be mad and disappointed, to hate herself for that. That made the decision for Logan.

He reached out with a bare hand to her face and felt the power flow out of him. She leaned into his touch and he forced his eyes to remain open as the pain became more intense. He wanted to watch her, to make sure she was healing and that she hung on long enough. He tried to keep his face expressionless.

After several long seconds, she moved her face back, breaking the contact. Logan felt himself falling back, felt his body shake uncontrollably in seizure, felt the pain stop and his healing factor begin to repair his spent body.

"Mmmm.." He couldn't get words out, but the seizures were slowing, and he was still conscious. That was a good sign for him, he knew. He would heal. She hadn't killed him. But it could be a bad sign for her - that she hadn't held on long enough.

"Oh, Logan.." She was at his side, lying beside him, running small hands through his hair very gently. It was shocking to him - almost as shocking as that first violent cut into his body had been so long ago - the unfamiliarity of that kind of touch. "I'm so sorry. I - I shouldn't have."

"Nnnooo. Fffiiiinnneee." He hoped she understood. Wet tears began to fall from her face onto his, and he didn't know if it meant that she did understand or that she'd gotten it all wrong.

"Shhh. Just rest. Just rest." She was gathering him close to her, resting his head against her chest, wrapping the skin around both of them. He registered that she was warming - her body seemed so very warm to him - and that she was at least strong enough to move his quite heavy body. Those were good signs, hopeful signs. Signs that made him relieved and reassured enough to fall into sleep. She would be OK. And so would he. And they might just make it.

Several days later, they finally came upon a town. Not a town, actually, just an eskimo village of a few dozen people, but it had a store. Logan and Marie didn't go into town. He knew they'd be looking for them, and that this town would be a logical place for them to surface. But they needed food and clothing, especially shoes for Marie, and the store might have both. Logan settled on stealing from the store in the dead of night, and disappearing back into the forest, to head further north. He remembered little of his life before the lab, but he did recall that there were still a few places on earth where one was not easily found. If he was right about where they were, if they were in Northern Canada, then they were in luck, because there were places like that there.

Logan's plan had been going well. Marie was waiting out in the woods. Most of the things they needed were in the store, and he got in and out undetected. It wasn't until he was nearing Marie's hiding place that he realized something was wrong. He smelled them strangers and a very frightened Marie. Laying the items from the store down, he approached silently, concealing himself in the trees and in the darkness.

"Get away!" Marie was frantic, shaking uncontrollably, backed up against a tree, the bear skin discarded at her feet. There were four of them in black leather this time - the two from before, one woman with red hair, and a man with glowing eyes and red hair.

"We - we won't come any closer, but, please, listen to us. You - you need help." The man from before. This time his hands were at his side, not at the glasses. He must not have perceived Marie as a threat.

"Please don't be afraid." The red-haired woman spoke gently and took a small step forward. That did not go unnoticed by Marie. "I'm - I'm a doctor." Marie flinched and Logan felt a coldness settle in his own stomach at the words. "I can help you."

"N-no. Stay away." She was getting really scared now. Her breathing had turned shallow and irregular. Logan could hear her heart pounding, fast and erratic. He thought there was a very real possibility that she might have a heart attack or pass out.

"Come on dere, chere." The man with glowing eyes affected an open stance and friendly tone. "Pretty thing like you don' need to be out here in de woods all cold and hungry. Why don' you let us take you someplace warm, non?"

Logan smelled Marie's fear jack up several notches. The tone the man used, the easy way he spoke the words, and his comment on her appearance Logan could guess why Marie reacted that way. Her suddenly glazed-over, frozen look told him he was right. He knew - he knew because he did it too. There were some things so bad, so horrible, that you just couldn't be there for them. You just couldn't stay in your body, in your conscious mind. When they happened, you had to hide, go numb. Retreat so far into yourself that it was almost like it was happening to someone else entirely. Logan could guess what would've been the things that made her do that, and why a man with a soft voice and a manner that tried for engagement or flattery might make her do it again now.

"Chere? You don' look so good." The man looked to the doctor. She looked back meaningfully. Logan knew they were getting ready to take Marie. He got ready too, crouching close to the ground, ready to spring the instant they moved. Four. Four against one. He was willing to face those odds. He'd been up against much worse.

Marie wasn't responding at all. The doctor and the man with glowing eyes began inching toward her. She didn't move, didn't speak, just shook. Enough. It was time.

With a growl and a scream, Logan sprang across the expanse of wood and quickly landed at Marie's side. She seemed to snap out of it at that, turning to look at him with immense relief. Logan snarled at the four leather-clad figures, and extended both sets of claws. "You ain't takin' her. You're gonna have to put me down first."

"Please." Marie's whisper was soft enough that only Logan heard. "Please, I don't want to go back." Her hands tried to turn him around to face her. They were so weak still, so ineffective that he had to turn of his own volition, but he didn't turn around entirely. He wasn't about to let the strangers completely out of his line of sight. He needed to turn just enough so that he could see Marie too.

She was crying in earnest now. She reached down and gently took one of his hands in hers, bringing the razor-sharp claws to rest on the pale skin of her throat. "Please. I don't want to go back." She gazed at him openly through the tears, the trust in him shining out of her. She pressed his claws a little more closely to her throat, drawing small droplets of blood. "Please."

Her actions drew a muffled gasp from one of the strangers. Logan was no longer paying attention to them at all. He was thinking. If he fought - if he fought and lost, she'd be better off this way. If he fought and won - well, he didn't know what their powers were, but these four were definitely mutants, and the odds of winning may not be so good. But maybe he could take them out, or hurt them enough so she'd have a chance to get away. Maybe.

"We....don't. Don't." It was the man from before, with the glasses. Logan recognized his voice. And he sounded like he meant that. Maybe she was right. Maybe they did want her alive. "We'll go. We'll go."

At first Logan thought it was some trick, but he heard their footsteps moving back off into the woods. When the sound of them had vanished completely, he finally turned from Marie. He couldn't smell them anymore, just something mechanical, something mechanical that was warming up, moving.

Two days later, they came up on a hunting camp. Abandoned at this time of year, which was perfect for their purposes. It was shelter, at least of some sort. It meant they could rest, or a few days, at least. And they both desperately needed rest.

"Hey, Marie - can you....could you get the blankets over there?" There was one bed, a small cot much like the prison cell one. Some blankets that had been left in a trunk and the animal skins should make it reasonably comfortable.

"No just you." He said it reassuringly, to let her know he was still the same, that things were still the same as the first night they'd spent together in his cell. To make sure she knew that he wouldn't hurt her like those bastards had.

"I kind of need to, Logan. It's OK, isn't it?" She paused in the process of unfolding the next blanket. She asked the question earnestly, and she was waiting for an answer.

"Yeah. It is." That drew a smile from her, and Logan did as she asked and lay down on the bed. When she'd finished piling every blanket and animal skin they had on top of him, she carefully lifted an edge of the blanket pile and climbed in. The bed was small, and they both lay on their sides to fit. Marie's body was pressed tightly to Logan's, and her head rested in his shoulder. She seemed to be seeking his touch, seeking closeness.

"Nah." His arms went around her and he stilled for a few long seconds, trying to gage whether her breathing or smell or heartbeat changed. All three did, but not in an indication of fear or nervousness. All three indicated that she was relaxing, that she was OK.

"It's not your fault. Logan...you would have done it, right? If.if they hadn't left, you would've done it, wouldn't you?" Her hold on him tightened a little and she burrowed her head into his shoulder a little more deeply.

"I-I dunno. I wouldn't let them get ya, though. No matter what. If that was the only way.I'd do it. Yeah, I would." He felt his breathing and heart rate change at that, at the thought of having to kill her to prevent her from going through that again.

He found himself oddly touched at that, at the thought that she'd touch him and drain him to death to keep him safe from the experiments, the torture. That seemed so much harder, so much more personal than what he'd have to do to kill her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She wiggled against him a little, and he realized that his hands had drifted to the small of her back. He stilled immediately. "It's OK, Logan. It's OK. You're not scaring me."

"You're not. Please? I'd like to be touched, you know, like that. In a way that doesn't hurt. It's - it's been a long time. Probably since I was a kid. I never had a boyfriend or anything before. I'd - I'm curious to know what it feels like."

His heart tightened a little at that. "Sure. Sure." His hands resumed movement, and he made his caresses long and light, easy and gentle. Before long, he felt tears make his shoulder wet through his shirt. "Marie? You OK?"

"Uh-huh. It's just it's so nice. It's so different." He flashed back to how she stroked his hair after he'd touched her, how it felt like a stab of pain at first to have something that felt good.

Three weeks later, they were in considerably better shape. They'd managed to find an abandoned car that Logan got running again with a few new spark plug wires. It was a stroke of good luck, and they were due. Marie was in better spirits. She cried a little every day, and sometimes in her sleep too. But she also smiled and made jokes with Logan and laughed. For his part, he remained focused on keeping them moving, keeping them alive, and keeping them in good shape. And he succeeded on all counts fairly well. All in all, things were looking up.

They pulled into Laughlin City in the evening. Logan had figured out about a week ago that he could make pretty good money fighting in cage matches. And they needed it. Marie needed things like clothes and shoes and soap and shampoo. He needed things like clothes and boots and maybe some cigars. They needed gas for the car, and oil, and money to stay in a motel every once in a while instead of sleeping in the car every night. Fighting brought all that to them, and if it wasn't Marie's ideal solution to their money needs, it suited Logan fine. He enjoyed getting to pummel challengers senseless, and sometimes imagined them to be the doctors torturing himself or Marie while he did it.

Laughlin City was potentially going to be the best stop yet lots of challengers, lots of people in the audience. That translated to a big purse. Maybe enough to get a better car. Or even a pick up truck.

"I'll be careful. You just stay where I can see ya." Logan always worried about her. It was usually a rough crowd, and he made sure to check on her often during the fights.

"I will. Hey." She reached out for him, pulling him close. She leaned up toward him on her tip-toes. He almost forgot. She liked to kiss him before he went in to fight. Just once, on the lips, using a scarf she'd bought somewhere along the way. It was like a little good luck ritual.

"Hey." He leaned down, bringing the scarf across her face. She liked to be kissed now. At first, she wouldn't move her lips against his at all, and was very tense. But after a few tries, he convinced her to kiss back. He knew it wasn't what she was used to - she'd never been kissed and she'd told him that when they did things to her before, she always just tried to be as still as possible, tried not to get herself hurt worse. It took a few tries for her to see that it worked out all right when she kissed him back, that it wasn't going to get her hurt, that it could feel nice.

After the fights were over, and the bar began to clear out, he noticed something was off. It was a smell, an unpleasant smell, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Feeling unsettled, he headed over to Marie. He had his share of the purse, and it was a good take. No reason not to get the hell out of there.

"Sure." She could tell from his bearing that something was wrong. One of the very useful gifts given to her by her horrible experiences was a fine attunement to the emotions of others. When your life, when getting hurt worse or having a chance to escape some part of the rape and torture hangs on your ability to effectively read and respond to the emotional states of others, you develop that skill or die. She was especially good at reading Logan, who she'd spent more time around than anyone else.

"Come on." It was then that he put his finger on it. It was one of those damn black leather wearing people. Somewhere close. Somewhere very close. "Fuck." Right down the bar, as a matter of fact. That fucker with the sunglasses. He was looking right at them.

"Hello, Logan, Rogue." Good, Logan thought. At least they didn't know her real name. That was something. "How are you?" Marie didn't respond and neither did Logan. "Please don't be afraid. I just want to talk with you. I need your help."

Logan took a step toward him, but was stayed by a small, gloved hand on his forearm. "Be careful, Logan. They never come alone," Marie reminded him in a terrified whisper.

"Please, stop. Please just - they took her. They took my wife. I need - I need to find her, please." His pleas reached deaf ears when it came to Logan, but Marie stopped. She *was* good at reading people, and that skill was telling her that the man told the truth.

"No, we don't. We don't know those things. I'm - I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Logan opened the door and pushed her into the car. Keeping his eyes on the man, he crossed to the other side and got in. When he opened the door, Marie was leaning over to talk to the man. "Wait - I heard - I once heard one of the doctors mention Los Alamos. That's - that's it. That's all. I'm sorry."

The man looked unspeakably grateful, and, even though Marie couldn't see his eyes, she would've bet he was shedding some tears. Logan got in and shut the door, hard. "Dammit, Marie."

"Marie, I can't take a chance with you, all right? I can't take a chance that you might get taken. Don't - I don't give a shit about him or his wife, OK? Fuck 'em both. It's not worth the chance that he coulda taken you."

"I know. It's OK. It's OK." He didn't need her emotional skills to know it wasn't. He'd scared her. He'd scared her when she was just trying to help someone, when she was basically acting exactly like who he loved her for being.

"Marie, listen, OK? I got scared. I just got scared, that's all. I don't want you to get taken away from me. I'm - I'm sorry I raised my voice like that and sounded angry. I wasn't mad at you, just scared."

"OK." He reached for her, and she flinched. Just a little, almost imperceptibly, but it was there. He took his hand away. He'd sworn to himself that he'd never lay a hand on her that way.

"I know." And she did, some part of her did. She knew him well, and she knew that he wouldn't hurt her and that he was sorry. But her history, her emotional knee-jerk reactions to that tone, that manner, had taken over.

"Never. I would never hurt you. Not ever. No matter what you did. No matter what." He wanted to be very clear about that. He wanted to be very sure she understood that.

She finally started smelling something other than scared. There was still a lot of scared in there, but she was beginning to pull out of simple, pure fear. "OK. OK, Logan."

They stayed at a motel that night. Marie was still quiet but the fear and sadness that had been hanging over her was lifting. Logan brought their things in from the car while she showered. She loved showering, probably because there were no showers in the lab. Only the occasional sponge bath before an experiment. Marie loved showering at motels especially, where the hot water usually lasted for a long time.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she was wrapped in a towel. She gave a little smile to Logan, who was sitting on the bed and staring off into space. If she'd asked him right then what he was thinking about he wouldn't have been able to tell her. But she didn't. She just went over and sat down beside him.

"Nah. Not really." Marie frowned at that, and shifted to carefully hug him. She was surprised to feel a shudder go through him, so she held him a little tighter. "Just a little shaken up, that's all." His arms came around her, and he breathed her in deeply.

"That guy. How he was sayin' he was lookin' for his wife. I know - I know I yelled and all, and I still think he was tryin' to pull somethin' back there, but somethin' about that caught me. I guess - I'm glad we both made it out. Maybe if you - maybe if you didn't make it out, that's what I'd be doin'. Wanderin' around, hopin' for some clue where ya were."

"I think I know where this is and how to get there from here. I was thinkin' we oughta go take a look." A deed was among the items Logan won in Laughlin City. The owner claimed it was a remote mountain cabin, high and far north. Personally, Logan thought it was probably bullshit, but he wanted to get away from the towns for a while anyway.

"How're you feelin'?" He asked her that sometimes, usually when he suspected that she was feeling good. She got the impression that he did it to have her hear herself say she was OK out loud, to let it really sink in.

"I'd like that a lot." She smiled broadly then, the brightest and best smile Logan had seen on her so far. He liked that look on her. He liked it very much. It made him think. It made him think that he'd been right, what he'd said to her before was right. He was going to love her back. He was going to love her back a lot.