A Sort of Homecoming - Part 1

Title: Alter-Eighteen: A Sort of Homecoming
Author: Terri
E-mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 for sex and somewhat dark sexual themes
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but by now they probably own me..
Archive: Ask, and ye shall receive.
Feedback: Please! With a cherry on top? Good, bad, and ugly welcome..
Summary: Alternative version of events in the eighteen series. Logan comes back a
changed man.

Comments: The title is taken from a U2 song  it's on the Unforgettable Fire album, which I still have in vinyl (yes, I know that dates me..) and which I just can't recommend enough. This story was created by a strange marriage of brbf plot bunny and watching the last Buffy episode wherein Tara loses some of her marbles. Here, Logan didn't get put through the wringer as much as poor Tara, but I thought it was an interesting concept. You be the judge.

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When he first came home, the instant she saw him, she knew something was wrong, really wrong. To everyone else, he appeared pretty much the same  growly, badass Logan, back after almost two years away, unchanged. But she knew better. She caught the little nuances that no one else would  the tension in his large muscle groups, the way he never turned his back on anyone that greeted him, the way he positioned himself in a room to always keep a clear line between himself and the exit - all the little things that added up to a big difference.

He had been heading straight for her room, but was intercepted by Jean and the Professor, who diverted him to the Professor's office. She never could explain how she knew he was back, or how she knew he was in that office within minutes of his arrival. She didn't smell him, hear him, or have some sort of premonition. It was as though the knowledge simply dropped directly into her brain.

After finding him in the Professor's office and realizing that something was off, way off, she debated briefly what to say to him. After a few seconds of deliberation, she decided on saying nothing, crossing the room to embrace him instead. He hugged her tightly to him for almost a minute - another clue that something was wrong. When he did let go, he kept a hand on her forearm, ensuring that she stayed within easy reach. The Professor raised an eyebrow at that, but both Marie and Logan ignored it.

Logan talked with the Professor for a few more minutes, saying words but telling him nothing, then abruptly told the now-growing crowd in the office that he was going to his old room. He didn't ask Marie to come, but simply kept his grip on her and dragged her along, keeping her behind him. That raised a few eyebrows other than the Professor's.

When they got to his room, he guided her in first, then shut the door behind him. She was confused, but everything about him - all those signals lost to everyone but her - said that now was not the time to ask questions. She sat on his bed  she's always thought of it as his, no matter who was living in the guest room at the time  and waited.

He paced back and forth, over and over, until he finally seemed to hit upon something. Suddenly resolved, he turned to face her. "I'm back, Marie."

"I know. I'm so glad you're here. I missed you."

"Did you? Did you really?" He was dead serious, acting as though the fate of the world hung on her answer.

"Yes. Really. Are you  are you all right, Logan?" She told herself it wasn't asking for an explanation, just wanting to make sure he was still basically OK.

"No." She hadn't expected that answer, and she hadn't expected the pained expression with which he delivered it.

"What's wrong?" Such a simple question, she thought, but so frightening to have to ask. Especially to this man, who she thought of as invincible, as her hero, her protector.

"They got me." Three words, devastating in their simplicity. It was all the answer she needed and all he would ever give.

"Oh, Logan." Unconsciously, she stretched out her arms to him. He sat beside her on the bed, and gathered her in another tight embrace. "I'm so sorry."

"I woulda been back sooner, but.."

"It's OK." She began to run her hands across his back, trying to soothe and comfort him.

"I can't talk about it." He didn't say it in apology or even explanation. It was a plain statement of fact.


"I know."

"I can't - I need  "

"Shhh.it's OK." She had an idea of what he couldn't do - be around all those people, all of her friends and teammates downstairs  but no idea what he needed.

"Marie."

"Lay down, OK? Just lay down and rest. You've had a long trip."

"You're gonna stay here." It was a gruff command, and left no room for argument, but she responded as though he'd made the most gentle request.

"Of course. Lie back. Let me get your boots off." She handled the task gingerly, careful of the exposed skin above his socks.

"Lie down with me, Marie." Another command, a little less roughly given, but unmistakably an order. Again she complied, lying beside him but not touching him. They stared at one another, each communicating silently with the other, before they both drifted into sleep.




She woke to see him staring at her intently. Hazel eyes burned with an emotion she hadn't ever seen on him before and which defied description. She simply stared back, taking the look of him in, trying to find the right words, the right reaction. He spoke first.

"Where's your room?"

"Next door still, with Jubes and Kitty."

"Move your things in here. All of 'em." Back to command mode, back to ordering her, but this time with a hint, just a hint, of pleading.

"All right." She reached out to stroke his arm, and his eyes closed the moment she touched him. She kept touching him, fascinated by his response. He breathed in deeply and she knew that he was smelling her, taking her in. Some of the tension bled out of his body, and he sunk slightly deeper into the bed. He made some almost inaudible sounds  low rumbles emanating from his chest. It dawned on her then that she was comforting him, that it was working at least a little to calm him. "Logan," she whispered, "it's OK now. You're back home with me now. It's OK."

His eyes opened lazily, and the intensity of his gaze had vanished, replaced by something warm but not soft, wanting but not weak. "You're mine, Marie. You belong to me. Do you understand that?"

"I understand." She wasn't sure she did, entirely, but she agreed with the general principle enough to say that she did.

"I hafta keep you with me." He spoke almost like he was reciting a mission statement, or some long-ago memorized creed. "I hafta have you close."

"OK."

"Good." That came out softer, much softer. "Now, go on, get your stuff."





Moving all of her earthly possessions hadn't taken long. She wasn't sure if she'd gotten the desire to travel light from him or whether she'd carried it over from her hitchhiking days, but all of her accumulated belongings fit in two duffel bags. She wasn't subtle about moving, felt no need to be. Her actions garnered comment from most of the mansion residents. Jubes and Kitty thought it was romantic  they'd known she'd been in love with Logan from the start, and had agonized with her in the years since he left over his absence. The Professor warned her away from Logan  it was hard to hide that he wasn't in the best of emotional states from the world's most powerful telepath. Marie shrugged that advice off, though. She was confident that Logan presented no danger to her on any level, and equally confident that she understood him better than even the Professor.

Jean, too, warned her away form Logan, but for different reasons. She thought Marie was acting on a crush, and that she'd eventually get her feelings hurt when Logan moved on. Scott shared similar sentiments, but with the added concern that she wasn't ready for a sexual relationship. 'Ro simply said "be careful, child."

Logan didn't leave the room at all that day. Rogue ventured to the kitchen to get them both food twice, each time returning to a disconcerted, pacing Logan. Each time he embraced her upon her arrival, and each time, she noticed him relax as soon as she reached his arms.

She wasn't sure how to handle that night. She'd settled on wearing a long, white, filmy cotton nightgown that covered her from neck to ankles. When she emerged from the bathroom dressed for bed, she noticed that Logan had put on pajamas - tops and bottoms - and found it strange. Her brain was still trying to work out why he'd dress that way for bed when he crossed the room and pressed her solidly back up against a wall.

He pressed the length of his body against hers, and grabbed her by the wrists, drawing them above her head. She noticed then that he was wearing gloves, very thin cotton gloves, and realized finally what he needed from her.

"You're the only one, Marie." He said it with conviction, with confidence, and with resignation. "The only one."

"Logan?"

He didn't answer, but rocked his hips into hers insistently, keeping her gaze. She felt her heart begin to race and felt every one of her senses come fully on line. He let go of her hands, moving his to her breasts, cupping them gently at first, then lowering his mouth to one. He seemed to lose control then, pinning her to the wall at her hip with one hand, and frantically, roughly moving his mouth against her body.

Before she could adjust to the flood of sensation, she felt his hand reach up beneath her gown and tug down her panties. Too fast, she thought, too much. He wedged her thighs apart efficiently and slid a finger inside her, causing her to gasp and tense against him. That seemed to pull him back to himself. He stopped what he was doing, but didn't remove his restraining hand from her hip.

"Marie.I don't - I don't wanna push you, but I need--" The pained look on his face told her more than she wanted to know at that moment  that he desperately needed to take her, to make her his, and that, although part of him regretted it, when he did, it would be without regard to her needs. It would be for him, just him.

A lot of things ran through Marie's mind in those few seconds that she held his eyes. Him dropping down to save her on the statue of liberty. His strong hand curling around hers, closing it around his dogtags. His truck, drifting to the side of a snowy road, then stopping. The look on his face when he stabbed her with his claws and the feeling of him rushing into her for the first time. She made her decision.

"It's OK." He parted her legs again, quickly and roughly, and once again she felt his hand moving against her and his fingers, two this time, sliding inside her. She bit down on her lip a little to stifle another gasp at the pain. She was a virgin, and had never thought of giving that to anyone but him, but had never thought it would be this way.

His mouth clamped around her breast again too, and she let him bite and squeeze her without protest. She cupped the back of his head gently, and let her other hand fall to his shoulder, stroking him as she had before, hoping to calm him a little. When he finally broke from her - flushed, aroused, and feral - she stepped out of her underwear, but didn't move from the wall. He fumbled in his wallet for a condom, drew himself out through the gap in his pajamas, and rolled the condom on.

He pressed the full length of his body against hers again, and took her face in both hands. "Marie.." It was part growl, part snarl, and it would've terrified her coming from anyone but Logan. She felt strong hands pushing her nightgown up, then grabbing hold of her thighs. In one swift stroke, he entered her fully, and this time, she couldn't stifle the sounds of her pain.

He stilled at that, but didn't withdraw. He maneuvered her legs to circle his hips, and lowered his mouth to her shoulder, biting through the gauzy gown. He began to thrust then, not at all gently, quickly gaining a rhythm that pleased him. He could feel her hands moving across his body, carefully avoiding exposed skin. He could smell her blood and her pain, but made no effort to stop.

For her part, she simply tried to hold on to him, tried to ride out the pain and concentrate on how close he was, how he was touching her, how much he wanted her. All things she never quite believed she'd have. Even like this, even if this wasn't for her at all, she wanted those things.

He moved faster and more frantically and she knew he was close. The pain had faded to a dull ache, and Marie planted both gloved hands in his hair, tangling it in her fingers as he bit down harder on her shoulder. Finally, he came  snarling and growling and biting her hard enough to draw blood. She whimpered and keened in those last few minutes, knowing that he was too far lost to notice and needing an outlet for her emotions and her protesting body.

As he gradually stilled, then unlocked his jaw and withdrew from her, she struggled to regain some composure. Lifting his head to look at him, she saw something she wasn't at all prepared for  desperation. It wasn't possession, it wasn't lust, it wasn't animal instinct. He'd been driven to her out of desperation.

"Logan?"

"Sorry." He slid to his knees in front of her, smoothing her gown down across her legs, covering her once more. "Oh, God.sorry."

"It's all right."

His face tilted up, wearing a grimace. "I hurt you. You're bleedin'."

"It's all right."

"Sorry, Marie, I.."

"It's all right. I'm OK." In truth, she knew her shoulder might need a stitch or two, and the dull ache between her legs wasn't easing.

"Shit."

"Logan"

He rose and gently gathered her to him. His mouth dropped to her shoulder once again, this time sucking and licking the blood from his bite through the thin cloth. She murmured soft words in his ear, letting him hold her close and hold her up. If he'd let go, she was sure she couldn't hold her feet.

"So sorry." She knew he was and wasn't. She knew he'd gotten what he needed from her.

"Can we - can you help me to the bed?" Her nightgown was already trashed - blood stains don't come out easily, that's one thing she'd learned living with the x-men. The sheets would fare better - they were dark green, and stains wouldn't be as noticeable.

Logan carried her to the bed and placed her in it tenderly. His gloved hands ran down her body, from neck to stomach, lightly caressing where he had bruised her just moments before. "Marie..so sorry." He moved to her legs, spreading her thighs again, and she tensed involuntarily, not wanting to deny him, but already hurting. He ran gentle fingers over her and delicately ventured inside her. She focused on relaxing her body, and she soon began to feel soothed, comforted by his touch.

After many long minutes, he brought his hands away, and lay down beside her. He pulled her nightgown back to reveal the damage to her shoulder, and winced at the raw bitemark. For a moment, she thought he was going to say he was sorry again, but instead, he laid his head down between her breasts, and circled her waist with both arms. They fell asleep that way, both unmoving until morning.





She woke to find him staring at her again, this time with an expression that couldn't have been mistaken for anything but sorrow. She guessed he'd be like this in the morning and wished she'd made herself stay awake and think about how to handle it. She tried to be sure her expression was loving, open.

"Hey."

"How're you feelin'?" She felt his arm move beneath the covers  he wanted to touch her but had stopped himself. She reached out to him, laying a hand on his waist.

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." That wasn't quite a lie. Her shoulder did feel better - it had at least stopped bleeding - and she almost didn't ache anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Marie. I didn't want it to be like that."

"But you needed that." She could tell that he knew it was true and that he was sick with himself for it. She didn't want him to feel badly - she had made her decision, and she didn't regret it. She may not have understood the 'why' of what had happened, but she didn't doubt its necessity to him or her decision. "Whatever you need, I want to give you."

He didn't reply in words. He just began kissing her collarbone in an extraordinarily tender manner. His hands glided to her waist and stayed there as he moved to her breasts. He laid soft kisses there too, and along her stomach. When his mouth reached her belly button, she unconsciously opened her legs to him. He took that cue, using her nightgown to cover her as he moved his hands down to caress her thighs and began licking and tasting her through the thin cloth.

As she felt herself become increasingly aroused, it dawned on her that this was for her, it was his way of making the previous night up to her. Sighs dripping with pleasure escaped her lips as she turned that knowledge over in her head. Soon, all thought ceased as he expertly guided her to climax. Just as she had the night before, she gave her body over to him, this time eagerly drinking in the powerful sensations instead of struggling to manage them.

As she floated in the aftermath of her climax, she opened her eyes to see him raising his head from between her legs, licking his lips and breathing deeply. She could tell that he was fighting the urge to penetrate her again. His hands stayed on her hips and flexed almost involuntarily, but in the end, he simply slid up beside her and held her to him.

His erection was soon making itself felt against her belly, and, after letting herself recover, she wordlessly reached down to grasp him. He bit back a moan, but didn't encourage or stop her. Stroking him as she'd seen himself do it in her head, she focused on giving him release, giving him what he needed. It was fast and intense. When it was over, she lay back and waited, knowing they were far from done.






They ended up spending most of the first week in the room together, slowly coming to a more balanced place. Logan left the room for food and other supplies. Marie didn't want to raise questions about her injured shoulder, or why she was moving stiffly. For his part, Logan rebuffed all questions directed at him or inquiring after Marie with a gruff, "Go away." At the end of the first week, they'd settled into a pattern of making love in the morning, spending the day talking and gently touching each other, and making love again at night.

At first, Marie did all the talking. She told Logan about the two years she'd been here, the things she'd done for the team, the friends she'd made, and how much she'd missed him. It wasn't until the sixth day that Logan really spoke much at all. Marie had been telling Logan how Jubilee had dyed her hair pink and then decided it'd look better purple when he abruptly came out with, "You hafta stay close to me, Marie. I don't wanna lose you."

It wasn't as though he hadn't been listening to her talk; something she'd said had triggered him, but Marie had no logical clues as to what that could possibly be. So she asked him what made him say that. He looked away from her and told her to just go on with the story. Marie knew better than that  maybe he wouldn't tell her what triggered it, but she knew she'd better not just keep talking about Jubilee's hair color if she wanted to get anywhere with him.

"Logan, you're not going to lose me. I'll always stick close to you, you know."

"I ain't ever gonna let them get ya." His eyes drilled into her when he said it and she had no doubt he'd give his life to make sure of it. Her heart felt tight all of a sudden, thinking about what he must've been through, what he was still going through now.

"I know that. I'm so sorry they got you."

"You're the only one, Marie."

"The only one what, sugar?" She'd taken to calling him that after she noticed it usually got a small smile out of him. He wasn't smiling at all now.

"Why'd she want purple? That ain't a natural color." Marie didn't push - she'd gotten more actual conversation than she'd expected already, and she lapsed back into the story.





On the tenth day, the Professor and Jean decided an intervention was in order. Both had contacted Rogue telepathically, and she'd assured them both that everything was fine. But by this time, they'd finally noticed that Logan wasn't just being anti-social or secretive, there was something different, and worse, about him. And everyone that had come to love Rogue was worried about her being alone with him for ten solid days.

No one thought Logan would physically harm her - well, except perhaps Scott - but they wondered if he was somehow emotionally hurting her. The possessive behavior he'd displayed on that first day stuck in their minds. The lack of contact and outright hostility toward the other people at the mansion, the refusal to answer questions about him and Rogue, the dark looks and tense body language were all adding to the picture of Logan as someone with a secret. No one was sure exactly what that secret might be, but they had decided it couldn't be good for Rogue.

So on the tenth day, the Professor and Jean knocked on Logan and Rogue's door. Characteristically, Logan refused to let them in. They asked to speak to Rogue, who yelled through the heavy wood door that she was fine and that she'd talk with them later. When the Professor said he didn't think she was fine, a growl could be heard in the hallway. Rogue asked them to go, and, not quite ready to force the issue, they did.

Logan and Marie sat in silence for a long time after they'd left. Marie knew that the Professor wouldn't let it go on much longer, and thought over how to handle the situation. Logan knew that too, and was doing some thinking of his own.

"I hafta have you close to me, Marie."

"I know that, sugar." She said it reflexively. It was far from the first time she'd heard that particular sentiment from Logan.

"You belong to me."

"Of course I do. And you belong to me."

"That's all I kept thinkin' in there. I hadta get back to you. I hadta keep you safe. I hadta have you close to me. You'd make it better, I just knew it." That snapped her head up. His face held a tortured yet somehow thoughtful expression. "I kept thinkin' - I just gotta get back to Marie, that's all. If I can just make it through this and get back to her, it'll be OK. She'll take me in and it'll be OK. I can make her mine. I can make her belong to me and then I'll have somethin'. Somethin' good. I'll have somethin' good again."

Her mouth fell open in a mixture of surprise and anguish at those revelations. Logan didn't notice, or didn't pause if he did.

"'Cause you're the only good thing I ever knew. And I just kept thinkin' - yeah, I can make it through. I can make it through 'cause I'll have Marie on the other side. I just hadta - I just hadta make sure they didn't kill me or fuck with my memories too much. You know, so I remembered where I left ya and could find you again."

"Oh, Logan.."

"I'm so sorry about  well, you know. I didn't mean to be that way, but I didn't  I couldn't remember how to make you be mine. They fucked with my head but I hung on to mosta my memories  I can still remember you with your hair all brown and with snow on it, and I can still remember you sittin' in a truck with me and talkin' and I can still remember me givin' you the tags. I remember mosta the stuff. I just knew I hadta make you mine and I couldn't remember how I did that. And I was so - I just hadta make you mine right away. I didn't wanna take any chance on losin' ya. When I found you, I knew everything would be all right if I could just have you. I really, really needed you to make you mine right away. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I went for so long just hangin' on to the idea that you'd say OK, that you'd let me make you mine and then it'd all feel better. And you did say OK. And it did feel so much better to me after that, but I..I know it hurt you and I'm just real sorry, Marie."

"It's al right. You don't have anything to be sorry for. It's all right. I understand." She did  she understood the 'why' of it now and thanked God she had said OK to him that night.

"I hurt you, though, and I  "

"You've never hurt me here," Marie tapped a finger to the side of her head, then tapped it over her heart. "Or here." That was what was important to her. Physical hurt  it heals in time, but emotional hurt doesn't, not always. She knew he hadn't done it in order to hurt her, and she knew he wasn't oblivious to having caused her pain.

"But I am sorry. And I'm not sure I'm even sayin' it right, you know? I just  I'm better at the physical stuff. Now that we're better, I'm better at that, at showin' ya and makin' you mine that way, than I am at explainin' shit. You know, now that we do it nice. But I thought you should know. I don't wanna explain none of this shit to Chuck or anythin', but I thought you should know."

"I'm glad you told me." She bent down and laid a kiss over his heart, pressing warm lips against his t-shirt.

"OK." He put his arms around her in return. "You hafta stay close to me."

"I will, sugar. Don't worry, I will."





She spoke to the Professor the next day, without Logan. It took some doing, and he wouldn't agree to go any farther than the hallway outside the Professor's office, but Rogue finally did convince Logan that it was better for them to speak privately.

"We've been worried about you."

"I'm fine. We're both fine. We just need some time alone."

"You've spent a great deal of time very much alone, Rogue."

"Yes." She'd thought about how to handle this with the Professor quite a bit. She knew she had to protect Logan. He wasn't in any shape to deal with having these conversations, and there was also the matter of disclosing what he'd been through. She was well aware that he'd rather let everyone think he was the world's biggest asshole than to let them see weakness. Actually, she was still pretty shocked that he'd shared as much with her as he had. Sharing that with the mansion at large, though, was out of the question for him.

"Do you think that's a good thing?"

"Yes." She'd initially thought that she'd try to convince the Professor to give them more time, more space. But then she realized that was only postponing the inevitable confrontation.

"I wonder if perhaps you might share with me why it is so important for the both of you to be alone together so much."

"I have a theory." It was only about a week old, but Rogue felt pretty strongly about the validity of this particular theory. "Relationships aren't 50-50. They're not supposed to be."

"What are they supposed to be?" The Professor leaned forward. Rogue knew she'd caught his attention. Erik really gave her an advantage there; she knew from him that a perceptual, abstract, intellectual approach would give her the best chance at getting Charles to see things her way.

"I think they're a way to get needs met. Each person tries to meet the other person's needs. Sometimes, that means that one person has to give a lot. But that's OK if they get a lot too. Relationships are 100-100. They work best that way." Charles leaned back, and Rogue knew she'd reached him, at least a little.

"But perhaps one person is called upon to give more than they have, or to give something they cannot or should not be asked to do without. What then?"

"You'd give up your life for any one of us, am I right?" The Professor nodded. "What is more essential than that? If you're prepared to give that, everything else pales in comparison." It was Rogue's turn to lean back, satisfied she'd made her point.

"Perhaps. However, one might argue that there are things more essential than even life itself  freedom of thought and expression, for example, or autonomy, self-respect  these things are in some ways that which makes living truly *living*, are they not?"

She had to hand it to him. He had a good point. "You're correct. But some might also argue that even those things  essential as they may be  aren't the most important thing in terms of quality of life."

"And the most important thing would be?"

"Love." It was time to leave the abstract discussion behind. "I know you don't believe that I really love Logan, I know you think it's a teenager's crush. I think differently, Professor, and I know myself and him better than any of you do. I don't mean that disrespectfully, but we're both adults. That autonomy you mentioned  I would say it means that we have the right to make our own choices, even if they're bad ones. Maybe especially if they're bad ones. After all, he and I will bear the consequences in any case. Why not choose for ourselves?"

"There's something wrong with him, isn't there, Rogue?" Charles had decided to lay his cards on the table as well. Truth be told, he was quite proud of Rogue at the moment, and he hoped that she would continue to pleasantly surprise him.

"He's all right. But he's changed a little from how he used to be. And what he needs now is time alone with me." She hoped he would read between the lines sufficently.

"Hmmm." Charles thought for a few minutes, then seemingly reached a decision. "I have an idea."





When Logan had left the mansion two years ago, he'd had a little talk with the Professor first. He extracted a promise that the Professor would take care of Rogue, look out for her, no matter what. He also gave the Professor the location of the only thing in this world that he still owned  a small cabin in the Canadian wilderness  and said that if anything ever happened to him, Rogue should be sent to a safety deposit box in Toronto to retrieve the deed to the property. It was all he had, and he wanted to make sure she got it if he got taken out.

Logan didn't remember any of that, so when Rogue suggested they head up north and stay at the cabin for a while, he was confused. She didn't want to make him feel bad, and didn't want to admit to the Professor that Logan couldn't remember the cabin, so she simply explained privately to Logan that he'd once given her this place as a present, and that they could be alone there and safe.

He was reluctant to return to Canada, and perhaps Rogue should have expected that, given his recent experiences. But the thought of a sanctuary of sorts and the promise of not having to deal with the other people at the mansion eventually got Logan to agree. They spent about a week driving up, and to Rogue it seemed as if each mile further into the wilderness made him more at ease.

She pondered how in so many ways, he was still exactly the same  still her protector, still her hero. He wasn't afraid of anyone or anything  except losing Marie  and she felt safe with him, cared for. He still liked taking charge  he insisted on doing most of the driving, selected the supplies they'd need to get them through the winter, and watched over her constantly. It wasn't as though she had to take care of him physically, not at all. And whatever he'd lost in communicative skills or memory didn't impair his intelligence  he was as smart and capable in that regard as he'd always been. The biggest difference, she thought as they neared the cabin, was the sadness that hung over him, the hurt. He wasn't the most open person before all this, but he'd completely lost the ability for positive human interaction with anyone but her. Even waitresses or motel clerks were often on the receiving end of a growl or snarl. It was as though he didn't know how to behave in a way that wasn't threatening or hostile.

When they finally did reach the cabin, after they'd hauled their belongings up the mountainside, Rogue made the small bed and suggested they make love. She was always the one to initiate sex now  after the first few nights, he seemed to be skittish about that, and Marie was left to guess what he needed. She tried to err on the side of overabundance.

He came to her, gently caressing her breast, which was how he usually began touching her. This time, though, he looked troubled, and when Marie laid a hand on his chest, he frowned.

"What is it, sugar?"

"Talk to me." It was what he said when he needed to hear affirmations of belonging or love from her. Sometimes, when they were waking from sleep, and sometimes as they drifted off, he'd ask. Usually, though, when they were touching, on their way to making love, he preferred physical demonstrations.

"All right. You know, I was thinking about how much I like being with you, and how glad I am that we came here to spend some time alone together. I really like staying close to you and just being with you."

"I'm.I'm not right, am I?"

"You're just fine." He'd never broached that topic before, and she wasn't sure how to answer. She'd never lied to him, not ever, but she couldn't tell the whole truth without hurting him. And the truth was that he *was* fine in her eyes just as he was, but that he wasn't the same. The truth was that they'd changed him, taken something from him, and she hated admitting to that as much as he'd hate to hear it.

"I was different before."

"Yes. You were."

"I was better."

"You were.you talked to other people besides me. You were different. But you always kept me close, Logan."

"I think I knew before that you were the only one."

"The only one?" He'd said it so many times, and she'd asked but gotten no answers so many times, that she almost wasn't listening when he responded.

"The only one who could love me. The only one who could be good to me, really good. The only one who could make me OK. I dunno why, but I know you're the only one."

"I love you, I'll always be good to you, sugar, but I'm not the only one. Lots of people out there would do the same." She caressed his face gently. "Not everyone will hurt you. Not everyone. There are some good people out there, you know?" She tried for a soft tone, hoping to conceal her concern as well as her rising emotion.

"You're wrong. You're the only one. I *know* that." Both hands found her waist, pulling her closer. "I hafta keep you close to me, Marie."

"Of course, sugar, of course." When he got agitated, he fell back to reciting what he'd trained himself to remember, what he'd held on to despite their efforts to scramble his memories again.

"You belong to me."

"Always have, always will." She leaned in to him, embracing him.

"I hafta keep you safe."

"You're dong a very good job at that. I'm safe with you, I depend on that, sugar." She could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She knew her answers might have seemed rote or unnecessary, but his racing heart reminded her how seriously he took them, how much he needed reassurance.

"I made you mine."

"That's right, you did. And I made you mine." He was calming a little now, letting her words sink in.

"You're gonna stay here with me."

"As long as you want. I love you, Logan. I'd never want to be without you, no matter what." Those words carried more truth and significance than he could realize now.

"Say it again." She knew which part he meant.

"I love you, Logan. Always." He never said it back, but he didn't need to. There weren't words that could mean more than what he'd hung on to, what he'd been through to come back to her.

"I hafta keep you close to me, Marie."

"I know, sugar, I know."

"Say it again."


"I love you, Logan. Come on, sugar, come to bed with me." She wanted to show him. He needed both actions and words, and seemed most content, most comforted when she gave him both together.

"You hafta stay close to me."

"Of course, sugar."

"You're the only one." She lay down and guided him down beside her. Smiling, eyes bright with tears, she realized for the first time that her heart was always full when he said that to her, and that perhaps he'd been right all along.

"You're the only one for me too. The only one." Finally, he smiled. A real, genuine smile, a smile she never thought she'd see again. She couldn't stifle a giggle of delight before welcoming him with open arms to touch her once again.


 

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