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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.
----------------------------------------------------------- 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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