Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

Summary: Alternative version of events in the movie and the eighteen series. Logan makes a mistake, then tries to fix it with stuff. It works out pretty well.

Comments: The summary you see above is all that my brbf flung in the way of a plot bunny - and it's almost verbatim. Sad that such a long-ass story came out of so little, huh?

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He knew he'd made a mistake. He knew it right away. He'd taken advantage of a young girl who'd come to him for comfort from her nightmares, nightmares he'd given to her. He hadn't meant to touch her, hadn't meant to run gloved hands over her until she screamed his name, hadn't meant to end the evening with her naked in his bed. He knew he'd made a mistake. He knew it right away.

So he wasted no time in getting out of his bed, leaving behind her big, questioning eyes and quivering mouth, and getting the hell out of Westchester. He'd taken advantage and he couldn't stand being around her another second - too much of a reminder of his failing. He stayed away for three months. Three long months, every minute of which he berated himself for the mistake he'd made and vowed never to do it again. After three months, he'd convinced himself enough that he'd learned his lesson to return.

He came back on a Saturday afternoon, so he was surprised that she didn't come to greet him. He was sure she would - she had him in her head and she'd understand, he told himself, that he hadn't meant to do it, that it was just a mistake. She'd understand that he wouldn't take advantage of her again. She'd understand.

Saturday night and Sunday morning passed without any sign of her. He remembered that she liked to go to church on Sunday, and almost looked for her there, but in the end, decided to wait in the lobby until she returned. The afternoon bled into evening, and there was still no sign of her. Finally, he asked someone.

"I imagine she's in her room." The Professor's answer was curt - everyone had been short with him since his return - but he paid it no mind. He'd gotten the information he needed and he headed for the room where he'd held her and comforted her through nightmares too numerous to count. The room where the mistake had started, the room where he'd decided to carry her into his bed for a night.

He couldn't smell her at all as he neared the room, and it gave him pause. She may have moved, but the Professor would've mentioned that. He settled on knocking.

He wandered through the living quarters, tracking her by smell. When he caught scent of her, there was something off, something he couldn't quite put a name to. She smelled sick, but not quite that; sad, but more than that. For the first time since he came back, he began to worry, really worry that something was wrong, and as he followed the scent, he berated himself again for leaving for so long. Anything could've happened to her while he was gone. Maybe that's why everyone was being so short with him - something *had* happened, and he wasn't here to protect her. Another consequence of the mistake, he thought.

Finally, he found her room. Her scent was strong and he was sure she was inside. When he knocked and she opened the door to him, his heart sunk. Something *was* wrong. She was thin, with dark circles under her eyes. She was also covered from head to toe - complete with socks, turtleneck, and gloves - when she was, presumably, alone in her own room. She stood silently and stared at him for a few long moments before he spoke.

"Hey, kid." She winced at that, and began to swing the door back closed. He stopped it gently with a hand. "Marie, I'm back." He didn't really know what to say, and this wasn't going at all as he'd envisioned. Either something had happened or he'd been wrong about her understanding his mistake. His gut told him the latter was true, and that made his heart sink a little more.

He did as she asked and she swung the door closed. He stood in the hallway dumbfounded until one of the students went past him. It jarred him out of his own thoughts enough to realize it was time to find some answers.

"If she hasn't elected to tell you, I am certainly not in a position to." Hank, the new resident doctor, was the only person who'd talk to him at all besides the Professor. He'd tried Chuck but gotten a stern warning to leave Rogue alone and nothing more. Scott cursed him and threw a punch; Jean got a hard look on her face and refused to say anything; Storm's eyes turned white as soon as she saw him. He didn't know anyone else.

"Goddammit, why won't anyone tell me what the fuck is going on?" He began to get angry because he didn't know, but a little voice in the back of his head was already telling him he may not like the answer when he gets it.

"Marie? Uh, could you open the door?" He'd been asking periodically for the past hour without any response. He could smell that she was in. She was just ignoring him. Panic began to set in. "I'm sorry. Look, whatever - whatever you're mad at me for, I'm sorry for."

"No, I don't fuckin' know. I don't know a damn thing. What the hell is goin' on?" He regretted the harsh words and tone when he saw her shrink back and flinch. "Sorry. Sorry. I just - somethin's wrong and nobody will tell me what it is. Please tell me, Marie."

She stepped aside to let him come in. She backed up to the bed, never turning away from him. Reaching behind her at the bed, she grabbed at the edge of the quilt and drew it around herself. Logan closed the door behind him, and stood in the middle of the room, watching in consternation as she backed herself to the opposite wall, then slid down it. It was apparent now that whatever was wrong was serious, and his anger flared again. "Are you gonna tell me?"

"Look, I know I made a mistake, OK, Marie, and I'm sorry about that." Tears began rolling down her face and now he was sure she hadn't understood. She was still mad he'd taken advantage of her.

"Yeah." He took a few steps toward her. He couldn't read her expression at all. Sad, to be sure, but something wasn't right, wasn't normal. "It was a mistake. It won't happen again." That prompted more tears, and she started to shake. "Marie? Is that why you were upset?" She didn't answer, and averted her eyes to the floor. She started to cry more. "Marie? Come on, I'm - I'm sorry, just talk to me, please."

"You left me after we..you left and I thought you - I thought you..it was nothing to you. It was nothing to you, wasn't it? A mistake, that's all. A mistake. I was right. It was nothing. You couldn't have left if it was something."

"Yeah, I'm real sorry about that, but like I said it won't happen again." Her head snapped up at that and he thought for a moment he saw a flash of anger in her eyes before she lowered her gaze once more.

"You made me feel so ugly. And dirty. And used." The words came out clipped and sharp. He'd never heard that tone from her at all. "I can't - I can't stand to have anyone touch me now. I hate that feeling - I hate all of it. I can't - when I think back on it, on how it felt, and knowing I thought...but it was nothing. It was nothing, and you left and I was right. It was nothing. Nothing but a *mistake*."

"Marie.." He didn't like what she was implying - that wasn't the mistake he thought he'd made at all, and he wasn't prepared to deal with this. He reached out a hand to her, and she tried to back even further into the wall. She was afraid, he could smell it. It dawned on him a second later that she was afraid of him and then, in the next second, that she was afraid of him touching her, specifically. What was left of his heart went through the floor at that.

"Don't - don't. I can't stand it now. I trusted you and loved you and I thought at least you'd - I thought you could never hurt me, not so much. Not like this. I used to want that. I used to want you to touch me, but when I think back on it now, when I think back, I just...I just feel.sick." She spat the last word out, grimacing. The tears and the trembling were getting worse, and it was ripping him up inside *not* to be able to touch her, hold her through it. Even if he was the cause of it. He had to fix it, he had to explain, he couldn't just let her think those things, but he didn't know what words could possibly make it better.

"Left." She supplied for him, turning into the wall now, pulling the blanket tighter around her, pulling her feet up beneath it. "So just do it again. Just go."

"Please kid, I - " He heard the sob at that word - kid - and cursed himself for not thinking before he said it. She'd spent time in his arms, in his bed, and he wasn't helping the situation by using that endearment. "Marie. Marie. Please, listen to me for a second. I just - I didn't wanna take advantage of you and I felt like shit that I - "

"Now!" She'd never yelled at him, never been angry or this hurt. He rose slowly and did as she asked, leaving her room but closing the door between them and seating himself on the hallway floor. He sat in silence, leaning up against her door, listening to her sobs until they quieted hours later, until she fell into sleep.

"I talked to her." Hank was his only hope. He was new (Marie might not have told him what had happened), he seemed to care about Marie, and he was the only one willing to talk to him at all. "She's pissed at me. And hurt. Bad. You gotta help me fix it."

"Yes, well, you have." Hank adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and turned away from his computer to fully face Logan. "I do not know what transpired between the two of you. Rogue has declined to speak with anyone about the specifics, even the Professor. But there is no mistaking that she has become extremely withdrawn since you left so abruptly, and that she has become much more sensitive to being touched. She rarely leaves her room and avoids almost everyone."

"I am telling you this, Logan, because you seem to have some sort of misconception. You behave as though this is a simple matter, only requiring a few words of apology or some grand gesture to set things right again. It is not. Whatever has occurred between the two of you hurt her deeply. Even if I knew the particulars of the situation, judging from her demeanor over the past months, I have no confidence that I would be able to suggest a course of action. It is as though she has shut herself off from the world, from life. That, I am not sure anyone can fix. She must want to fix it herself."

"Without what?" The massive blue doctor leaned forward, with just a touch of murder in his eyes. He'd become quite fond of Rogue, and now was the only one permitted to touch her, and then only for medical treatment. She had some small measure of trust in him, and that brought his protective instincts to the fore.

"Nothin'." If Rogue hadn't disclosed what happened, maybe it was because she'd feel ashamed to have people know, Logan thought. She shouldn't feel ashamed, he should, but he wasn't about to say anything if she hadn't.

"Mr. Logan, I should at this point undertake to warn you that, should I discover that you have harmed that dear lady in any way, I will use each and every brain cell at my disposal to find a way to make you suffer - healing abilities or no, adamantium skeleton or no. I find that I can be quite ingenious when I so choose." Hank bared his fangs a little for good measure, and Logan knew that Hank would not be of any more help.

"Marie?" He heard her sobs from his room five doors down. It must be a nightmare, probably one of his. "Marie?" He stood at her door, gloves on, as he had so many nights before the mistake. "Please open the door, OK? I just wanna - I just wanna make sure you're all right."

The sound of retching and vomiting answered him, and he decided that he was going in there. He tried the knob - locked - before using a claw to slice through the bolt, effectively cutting the lock in two. "Marie?" He entered and headed for the bathroom, where she was bent over the sink, busily brushing her teeth. "Marie, are you OK?"

"I'm sorry, OK? I'm really, really sorry. I didn't know - I had no idea you thought those things, OK? I just - I knew I took advantage and I didn't want to hurt you." She let out a bitter laugh at that. "I know I did. I know I hurt you bad, Marie. I know it, I do. But please, talk to me. Let me - let me try to fix it."

"You don't want that. You don't want me. Not even...just go. Just go, Logan." The dark circles under her eyes were visible even in the low light of the room. She looked so small and frail to him, so fragile.

"Yeah, you do. You just don't want to feel bad about leaving. Well, don't. Just go. I don't want you here and I don't want you around me. Not any more. I can't stand - " She drew in a sharp breath that signaled tears to come. "I just feel sick when I think about you being near me, all right? I just feel dirty and sick. I can't stand it."

She turned to face him sharply. "What do you want to hear?" The anger was back, replacing the sadness, and Logan welcomed it. "That I want you to love me, that I want you to want me? Is that it? I know you don't. You - it was nothing to you, what we did. Nothing. And it never will be. I can't - you can't.." She seemed to suddenly run out of steam, and she moved to her bed to sit on the edge. "You can't go back and fix it, Logan. I know what it was, and that'll never change. I don't mean enough to you to.I just thought you'd never, ever hurt me, Logan. I thought it was safe to touch you, to let you touch me, to be with you like that. And it wasn't. It wasn't. I know that now."

She looked at him, tears streaming down her face. "Fine. Explain." Her tone made it clear that she was permitting it for his own sake, not hers, so that he would say his peace then leave. Logan had other plans.

"When we did that - when we were together, I - I'd come to you 'cause of a nightmare. You were so upset, Marie, and I didn't mean to start touchin' you like that, I didn't. But I wanted to so much, and I couldn't stop. You were so responsive and so beautiful and so *there*..I just - I couldn't stop. When you were finished, and you were layin' there lookin' up at me, I realized what I did. I took advantage when you were upset, and I thought you'd feel - I dunno, bad. I thought you'd hate me for it. I thought I had to leave so I wouldn't do it to you again. I didn't wanna - I was tryin' not to hurt you."

"Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you ask me how I felt? I mean, Logan, I was crying when you left and I - you had to know, you had to know I was upset."

"I don't want you near me right now." Less anger. "I don't trust you any more. You hurt me and I don't-" Just exhaustion now. "Please, just go." He finally did as she asked, returning to his room for a sleepless night.

"Look, do you want me to kick his ass to the curb? 'Cause I will, girl." Logan caught the snippet of conversation through Marie's door, as he passed in the hall. He knew he probably shouldn't eavesdrop, but he was desperate for some clue from Marie, and she wasn't giving any. She hadn't spoken to him in five days.

"I - I just feel used. Like I was some thing he got what he wanted out of and threw away. Without looking back, without anything. Just used. And dirty. Dirty for liking it, dirty for wanting it. But mostly I just feel..not enough. I wasn't enough. I wasn't pretty enough or normal enough or I didn't do something right, and that's why he left. If it'd been Jean, he - "

"No, no, he's - he loved me once, I'm sure of it. I have him in my head, and I know for sure. But something I did, something wrong or he started looking at me differently after that or...I don't know. I don't know. I just know I'm not - I don't compare to the other women. I'm not beautiful or smart or brave or really good at sex or anything like that. I'm just - I'm goofy looking and awkward and young and naive and stupid. And lethal."

"So let me kick his ass to the curb, huh? Go out with someone who likes you, someone who's better for you. What about Remy? He's been asking you out for weeks, chica, you should go."

"I just don't think I could. I do - I do like him a little, but I just don't think I could. I don't want to be hurt like that again, no matter what. I couldn't take it. I just couldn't take it. You know I can't even stand to have people touch me now, not hardly at all, because I can't stand it. It's - I know you think it's weird, but touch is a big thing to me and I just don't trust anyone enough to even think about letting them touch me. Not a little, not at all. Not now."

Logan disappeared into the hall before Jubilee came out. He thought long and hard on what had been said. Most of it was painful to think about - he knew how much he'd hurt her, how deeply - but this brought it home to him. To hear her say those things about herself, to know he'd made her feel those things, it was worse than any nightmare, worse than anything he'd been through so far. He had one good thing in his life, and he broke it. He broke it. But he was resolved to find a way to fix the damage he'd caused. He was sure there was a way. He just had to find it. In the scope of all the things he'd done for Marie, it would be the hardest.

"Hey." He'd let her have time, almost two months of it. He never pushed her, but he made sure to be constantly around her, always nearby. Whether it was when she went shopping (he'd develop a sudden urge for a drive) or when she was teaching art classes (he installed himself in the Professor's office, next door to her classroom, while Chuck was off teaching his physics class) or when she was screaming from nightmares in her room (he always knocked and offered to come in; she always said no; he always sat in the hall until he was sure she'd fallen asleep).

He thought there were some small signs of encouragement. She would speak to him socially. Small talk, like hello or goodbye, or pass the salt, or who's winning the game? She spent more time with her friends, Jubilee and the other one, and less time alone. She smiled every now and then, and when he caught her at that, it pleased him to no end. Today, he'd resolved to try something a little different, a little risky. "I saw this thing - this art display in town at the gallery - do you wanna go?"

"If you don't wanna go with me, I understand. It's OK." He knew he had to make it clear that he wouldn't push, that he wouldn't rush to try to fix things with her. But he wanted to make sure she knew that he *did* want to fix things. He thought that maybe this was a way to start. One hour, alone but not really, and doing something he knew she liked.

"I - I don't know." She was fidgety, like she always had been when she was nervous, like she had been on the night of the mistake when he first started touching her, really touching her.

At six-thirty, she knocked on his door. He'd said he'd come and get her at six-forty-five, so at first he thought it was a bad sign - she must have changed her mind about going. But when he opened the door, she was dressed in a tasteful but simple black dress, complete with a scarf, gloves, and black hose. She looked stunning, and the first thought he had beyond that was that she must've changed her mind about going with *him*. "Hey. You look great."

"It's just an hour and I know you like these kinda things." The tie wasn't cooperating, and he thought that his inability to do something so simple as knot a tie must make him look like even a larger idiot than he actually was.

"Why?" He turned to answer and his breath caught a little at the sight of her - legs crossed, sitting on his bed, leaning forward a little, displaying some cleavage.

"'Cause I don't want things to be like they are between us. I want things to be like they were, as good as they were, right up until I was stupid enough to get up outta that bed and go. Look, I know I can't fix how I hurt you. I just wanna show you I'm not gonna do that ever again. I thought maybe this'd be a good way to start lettin' you know that. To let you know I'm thinkin' about you, not just me."

"Hmmm." He couldn't bear the lack of response from her. He'd just laid himself pretty much wide open, and if this was even a taste of how she must've felt when he left.. "Let me get that?"

"The tie. Let me get that." She turned him to face away from her, then gracefully looped and knotted the tie around his neck. "Ready?" She was smiling a little when he turned around, and he decided that was good enough. He wouldn't push for any more of a response than that - a small smile, and her still going with him to the gallery.

They had an enjoyable hour at the reception. Marie looked over each display with a critical eye, commenting to him on her likes and dislikes for each piece. Logan had no idea what she was talking about half the time, not really, but he didn't interrupt. She spoke to him more in that hour than in the previous months combined.

After they'd looked at all the artwork, Logan offered her the choice of heading home or grabbing a quick bite to eat. He knew that was probably pushing his luck, and he wasn't surprised when she declined. As they drove back, though, they passed a Dairy Queen, and Marie nervously asked if he'd mind going through the drive through for a Mister Misty. She explained that she just had an urge for one. Delighted, he agreed and got one for himself as well, and they parked and sipped the frozen concoctions.

"It's..sugary." He'd gotten grape at her suggestion. The super-sweet, syrupy drink was an awful onslaught on his sensitive taste buds, but he drank it without complaint.

"That's the point. Pure sugar, artificial flavor, and a little ice. Nothing but the best." She'd gotten cherry, and it was making her lips and tongue red.

"Good." But at least they were making progress, he reflected. At least she was sitting next to him in the truck, sipping absurdly sweet drinks, talking. At least she wasn't shrinking in terror, backed up against a wall, crying and shaking and afraid of his touch.

"What?" He remembered her doing that sometimes, just jumping the conversational track with no warning. It could be a good sign - she only did it with people she felt comfortable with.

"I know it looks that way." She sipped on her drink, finishing it and reaching for Logan's in short order. "And maybe I did. But it just hurt that much."

"I wouldn't leave. I'd - I guess I'd apologize for takin' advantage of you like that, you know, when you were upset. I'd apologize and I wouldn't do it again."

"No - it's - that wasn't right, was it?" He desperately didn't want her to close herself off to him again, and, truth be told, he'd give whatever answer would prevent that from happening.

"There's no 'right'. It's - it's - never mind." She was closing off again, he could feel it. But she wasn't going to tell him what she did want to hear, he knew that much. If he wanted to stop it, he'd have to guess.

"I wouldnta - well, I woulda made sure you knew it wasn't nothing. I woulda made sure you knew it meant a lot to me." That's what she always said about it - it was nothing to him - so maybe that was a good place to start. "I woulda made sure you knew you didn't hafta - you didn't hafta let me do that to get anything from me."

"You know, stuff like - well, just stuff. Like me comin' to you after nightmares or like you and me watchin' a game together or you and me goin' for a drive. I woulda made sure you knew you didn't hafta let me do that with you to get any of that stuff. That - that's just - that's just there, you know? It's just there for you."

Her expression softened and her lips parted a little. He couldn't tell if it was surprise or some other emotion, but he didn't think it was bad. After a few seconds, she pursed her lips and a questioning expression settled on her features. "Still?"

"OK." She leaned back in her seat and sipped on the grape drink. He knew the deep conversation was over, and he started up the truck and headed for home.

"Marie?" It must have been a bad nightmare. She'd screamed loud enough to wake not only him, but also just about everyone else on the floor. Jubilee gave him a dirty look as he stood outside Marie's door, as did the other residents, but he ignored it. "Marie? You OK?"

"Come in." Her voice was thin and very shaky, and he thought it *really* must have been a horrible nightmare for her to just invite him in like that. He always knocked, he always asked, but she always told him to stay out.

"Hey, you all right?" She obviously wasn't and he cursed himself for asking a stupid question. She was sitting up in the bed, crying and shaking and holding her stomach - probably trying to keep from throwing up.

"Do you wanna - do you wanna talk?" Talking would be good - talking would be safe. He wanted to touch her too badly for that to be completely safe right now.

"I th-think so. The lab. Underwater. I f-feel like I have to throw up water, but I know I don't." She was still clutching her stomach. Logan remembered the feeling - he rarely actually threw up any more. It had only taken eight or nine years to train his body not to respond that way to the dream.

"You're OK. You're OK. You're safe." He *really* wanted to hold her. She was shaking so badly and she looked so scared, and there was a part of him that kept screaming that if he just held her, it would all go away.

"Me too." He was strangely touched that she still hated on his behalf. Then he reminded himself it wasn't quite on his behalf - they were hurting her now, too, in the nightmares.

"Can you - " She stopped herself, and looked up at him. "Do you remember how you said stuff was still there for me?" He nodded solemnly, bracing himself. "Can I have some of it?"

"Stay here a little while, OK? Just stay here." She hadn't asked to be held or touched, and part of him was relieved beyond belief. He didn't know if he could avoid making the same mistake twice, he didn't know if he could *not* touch her and caress her and comfort her and love her. He knew it would be a terrible mistake at this point, but everything about her - her scent, her tears, her demeanor - called out to him to do it.

The next day, word that he'd spent the night in Rogue's room had made its way around the mansion. Scott was the first to find him the next afternoon.

Jean and Storm avoided him altogether. Hank avoided him until he could trust himself not to rip Logan limb from limb without at least getting a few words out first.

"She is a woman much loved by all who have met her. With the exception of yourself, Logan. Do not think that causing her pain will go unpunished again."

The evening found him back at Marie's door, and he wondered what her reception would be. He had no doubt her friends had been in talking to her, convincing her to - as Jubilee had put it - 'kick him to the curb.'

"Better." She smiled at him a little. That encouraged him. Marie had always been a person who followed her own mind on things - maybe she hadn't let the opinions of her friends influence her too much. "Come in. We need to talk." Or perhaps they had influenced her after all. Those words never boded well for any relationship.

"Would you spend a little time with me tonight? You know, maybe just watch a game together or something? The Flames are on. That's - that's still there for me, right?"

"Right." Testing. She was testing. Maybe last night was OK, maybe she liked having him around. But maybe she wanted to see if it would work out OK again. She at least wasn't telling him to get the hell away from her, which he thought was a distinct possibility given the general opinion of him.

"So..Flames? Or I think the Islanders are on ESPN 2.." She reached for the remote and shifted to sit beside him at the head of the bed. He was so unspeakably grateful, so relieved, that his whole body relaxed, and he decided to even joke with her a little.

Her nose scrunched and he recognized that as an indicator of deliberation. There was something else to talk about, and she was deciding whether to raise the issue or not. Her nose finally un-scrunched. She was decided. "Can I trust you?"

"See, all of my friends, they don't trust you. My head - my brain remembers how I felt when you left, and the logical part says not to trust you. My heart remembers how I felt too and it definitely doesn't think trusting you would be a good idea. But there's something else in there. Something that's telling me to trust you. It's the same something that told me to hop in your trailer, to touch you that night you stabbed me, the same thing that said to go to the art gallery with you. Personally, I think it's got a pretty good track record, but here, it's pretty seriously outvoted. So I wanted to get your vote." Her words and tone were light, but Logan knew this was critical. It was *the* critical thing. He knew her at least that well.

"A little, OK? Just some, not a lot right away, all right?" She'd paused in her channel surfing to look over at him, and the recipe from some cooking show filled the brief silence after she spoke.

"It's all right, baby, you just cry it out." Her nightmares were coming more frequently for the past few weeks. He remembered that sometimes they went like that - in streaks - and you just had to ride them out. He hated that she was having more awful dreams, but secretly loved the fact that they brought him to her room to spend the night most nights this past week. Tonight, for the first time, she was letting him touch her. She'd asked for it - asked him to rub her back a little as she lay face down and cried into the pillow. He'd come wearing gloves, but he still kept his hands on the outside of her nightshirt. Before the mistake, he'd often pull her shirt up and put his gloves to her bare skin.

"I don't need much sleep." He kept his touch light, gentle, and well above the waist. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was enjoying this, that this was for him instead of for her. Even if he was enjoying it.

"Some." Light touches, he repeated over and over in his brain, light touches, gentle touches, comforting touches. Nothing else. Nothing else. Nothing else.

"Did you - was there someone there to comfort you? Did you, you know, go get someone to stay with you?" She was asking about other women, he knew. From someone else, there might've been underlying jealousy, but he couldn't detect any from her, just concern.

"Nah. Never liked havin' people around too much anyway. Didn't wanna make somebody deal with my shit." Light touches, Logan, just light touches. Nothing else.

"Hush up, darlin'." Her scared, panicked, remorseful tone cut right through him. He hadn't meant to, had told himself he wouldn't ever since she asked for the back rub, but that tone made him do it - he lay down beside her on the bed, not touching her with his body, still only with his hand. But he lay with her nonetheless. "It's all right. I gave you the damn dreams, and I wish like hell I could take 'em back. Least I can do is be with ya when they come."

"You - you're not required to - " She was trying to steady herself, reaching for some logical argument, when Logan knew this wasn't about logic at all.

"Hush. I wanna. I - I'm lovin' this, you know? I hate what the dreams are doin' to ya, but I'm lovin' bein' close to you like this again. I missed it. A lot." He hoped she understood - he hoped she didn't feel pressured by it, or guilty.

"I missed it too." She whispered it, almost as though she was afraid to say it out loud. "I'm glad it's - I'm glad it's some of the stuff I can still have."

"Baby, can we talk about that a little?" He felt her tense and took a guess at the source. "Not - none of that's goin' away. None of it. Just - I wanna know what other things you might want in there. What other stuff."

"Like, I dunno - maybe like if you wanted to go somewhere or do somethin' with me - you know, not a game or a drive or the usual. If you wanna go somewhere like the art thing again. Or if you wanna - just if you wanna have me do anythin' - stay with you, even when there's not a nightmare or somethin', or do this, rubbin' your back like this, you know, whatever. There could be that kinda stuff in there too." Light touches, nothing else. Light -

"What about what we did before. What we did right before you left." She took a deep, shaky breath right after she said it, and he took one before answering.

"But you don't want to, do you?" She rolled over, and he kept his hand on her, let it slide to her stomach. "It's OK to tell me you don't, Logan. It's - I'd rather know. I'd rather you just tell me." She was expecting him to say he didn't want it, and that surprised him. How could she not know? After having him in her head, after everything, how could she not know? Even the way he was touching her now - "Logan?"

"No, baby, it's not - it's not what you think. I wanted that with you always. I know - I know that makes me a bad person. You were a kid. You are - you're still young. And I'm not a good guy for you, Marie. I know that much. I'm not. But I still wanted that with you. And now, even now when I'm supposedta be givin' you somethin', givin' you comfort, I gotta keep myself in check 'cause I wanna do more than that. I wanna take from you, I want you to give stuff like that to me. It's selfish, I know. But it's the truth."

"Really?" His hand began to move across her stomach. He wasn't aware of it, and he wasn't aware that he'd leaned very close to her, was almost pressing against the length of her body now.

"Yeah. I shoulda made sure you knew that. I don't want you thinkin' - well, I don't want you thinkin' wrong things." He couldn't tell her he'd overheard her conversation with Jubilee, but he didn't want her to have those ideas in her head. "I don't want you thinkin' I didn't wanna or that it didn't mean somethin' - somethin' big - to me. I don't want you thinkin' that you're not everythin' to me, baby."

"Not what, darlin'?" Now he was pressing against her, protected by her clothes and his, but close enough, touching her enough to feel her body heat.

"I'm just not the kind of person people want. I'm just not - I have a lot of issues. No one - not even you - no one can really touch me and I'm not especially smart or good-looking or graceful or poised or any of that. It's just not a good package."

He laughed a little at that - he had to. She wiggled away from him upon hearing it, but he held her in place gently. "You're all of that, baby. You're - you're so wanted, so desirable. How can you not see that about yourself? Everybody - absolutely everybody - loves you. You're not smart, you're brilliant and creative and resourceful. You're not good-lookin', you're take-your-breath-away gorgeous. Beautiful, like a paintin' you'd see in one of those museums. And, OK, you're not graceful, but you're cute as hell when you trip over the curb or when you almost fall and catch yourself. Don't you see that? Can't you see all that?"

"Well..no." And then it hit him that of course she didn't - and it was because he left how he did, because of what he'd done that she didn't see it at all.

"Well, that's how it is. And I shoulda told you all that before. You don't - you shouldn't ever think bad things about yourself, 'cause none of it's true. Don't let - don't let how I fucked up make you think those things. That's me fuckin' up, not you."

"Oh, God, baby.." He stroked her face, and resisted the temptation to press a kiss to her mouth. "If you were different, if it was anybody else, I never woulda wanted them in the first place. It's not - I left 'cause of me, 'cause I felt like shit for takin' advantage, 'cause - well, 'cause I got all turned around, I got to thinkin' about things all wrong. It wasn't anythin' you did or anythin' you were that made me fuck up. I fucked up all on my own, baby."

She didn't answer, just snuggled closer to him and laid her head on his chest. He held her close like that, caressing her and gently kissing her head and shoulders, until he felt her fall into sleep. He followed shortly after her, glad that he'd be there when she woke, glad that maybe he had fixed some of the damage he'd caused tonight and that waking with him was likely to fix more. The last thought he had before succumbing to sleep was that he had to do it right this time, he had to take care of her and keep his promises.

He'd been sure he'd wake first. He even had the beginnings of a plan in mind for how to take care of Marie in the morning. He'd let her wake when she was ready, then tell her how beautiful she was and how much he liked sleeping with her. Then maybe he'd hold on to her a little bit or if she wanted to get up right away, he'd go with her to breakfast. There'd be no leaving her of any kind.

But it was in fact Marie who woke first, and her plan seemed to be to stay right where she was until Logan woke. When he came back from sleep, he could tell she'd been up for a while. He shifted a little beneath her, and her heart rate spiked. That confirmed what he'd thought might happen - she was afraid about how he'd be, afraid, probably, that he'd just get up and leave again.

"Mmm-hmmm." Her heart wasn't calming, even though Logan thought that the simple fact that he hadn't jumped up and out of bed like before might've eased her fears a little.

He knew what she meant, and wasn't surprised that she needed it, just a little surprised she felt comfortable enough with him to ask. It was a good way to be surprised. "You mean tellin' you how much I love ya?"

"It's a lot. It's a whole lot. I liked this a lot too, you know? I liked sleepin' with you and wakin' up with you. I think we should do this all the time." She picked up her head to look at him and smile. He said exactly what was on his mind at that moment. "It was an understatement when I said you were beautiful, darlin'."

"I'm just doin' things right a little. Don't be so surprised." He winked at her, and felt a huge surge of affection for her run through him. He did love her, he knew, but was surprised at the intensity of feeling, at the magnitude and depth of it all. He wanted to start touching her again, to start with her neck, just like he'd done the night of the mistake. But he didn't want to make the same mistake twice. More than anything, he had to make sure he didn't do that. "Breakfast now?"

It'd been six months since he first held her, and it seemed like it was enough time. And he wanted to, no question. But was it the right thing? Would it be another mistake? He knew he had to be careful, very careful. He'd promised not to screw up anymore, and he had to keep that promise. He *had* to. That, he knew for sure.

"Please? It's - it's OK with me, Logan, it's all right." She was laying in his arms, they'd woken up together. Nothing new. They'd slept in the same bed for months, and he always made sure they woke up *together*. He never got out of the bed first. Not to go to the bathroom, not to answer a ringing phone, not for any reason whatsoever. She always woke up with him there.

When they'd awakened this morning, he spent some time kissing and touching her. Again, nothing new. He'd been making her satisfied most mornings for the past month. He liked to do that in the morning, before she even left his bed. There was something about it that they both wanted, both found deeply satisfying. Most of the time she touched him too, and most of the time they ended up going back to sleep for a while.

But now, she was asking for something new, something big. She wanted him to be inside her, to make love to her that way. It was invasive, it would make her feel all the more vulnerable, and Logan was nervous about handling it right. It would hurt her a little, he knew, and he'd been avoiding it partially for that reason. He'd also been avoiding it because he was afraid he'd make a mistake there - if he did, it could be a serious mistake.

"Logan? I just......I want to. If - if you don't, it's OK, I understand." And here I am, he thought, making a mistake anyway, making her question whether I want to. He heaved a big sigh, and held her to him.

"I want to, Marie. I'm not scared." When they'd first talked about it, she'd gone out of her way to let him know he could take whatever precautions he wanted - two condoms, a female condom, whatever - to make sure that his skin didn't come into contact with hers. The skin issue had been the least of his concerns, and he said so. "I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

"No, baby, you're not. 'Cause I'm gonna make sure it's good for you. I just - I just gotta be careful to do that, OK? I'm just a little nervous I'll mess that up."

She looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. "I know you'll make it good for me. You always do. You never mess up, Logan. You don't. Please - I don't want you to be worried all the time. I want you to enjoy it too."

"Hey. Can I - I want to give you some stuff for a change, OK?" He looked at her quizically and stroked her hair. "I really trust you. You - you hurt me, and it was bad, but you came back and you stayed and you fixed it, you really fixed it. I - I couldn't trust anybody for a long time, but I trust you now. You showed me that it was OK, that it wouldn't hurt if I did."

"Hush up, sugar. I just - I want you to know I love you." She hadn't said it yet. He said it to her every day, but she had never said it back, not yet. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he took it in. He thought she did, thought she must to let him be with her, let him touch her, but he wasn't sure she'd ever feel comfortable enough to say it out loud to him. He was caught between shock and joy, hearing it now. "I love you, Logan. So much." It sounded just as amazing the second time..

"Oh, I know. I know that. That's why I want this. Because I want us to be - I just want us to be a little normal. I want us to love each other like this, to be together and close. I just want it, Logan. Please? I know - I know you're worried, but you don't have to be. Not ever, not with me, OK? Just - as long as you stay, as long as you talk to me, there's not anything that'll hurt me. I promise, OK?" She ran bare hands through his hair - carefully, but sensually. He watched her for a while, replaying what she'd said in his head, savoring the 'I love you' and assessing the other parts. Finally, he reached a decision.

"Let's do it." She smiled one of the smiles she probably knew made him melt on the spot. "We'll just go slow and take our time. We'll just go slow. It's - it'll hurt you a little, physically. But we'll go slow."

As he lay with her afterwards, holding her as close as humanly possible, he couldn't help grinning. He'd done it, he'd pulled it off. He made it good, made it really good for her, and he hadn't made any mistakes. He was thrilled beyond belief and he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

Even better, Marie was smiling too. They had gone slow, exceedingly slow. In fact, it was now late afternoon. But the smile she wore made it well worth the time invested. She'd said it'd hardly hurt at all, and Logan was fairly certain that she'd been satisfied several times over. God, he was grateful for that, grateful that it was so good for her.

"Yeah? Well, we'll hafta get outta here if you wanna do that. Chuck'll be lookin' for ya any minute now." While most of the X-Men had grudingly accepted Logan and Rogue living together, none were happy about it, and the Professor especially so. He made it a point to check in with Rogue each day, to see how she was faring and to make sure Logan had been treating her acceptibly. Logan understood - he'd made Chuck promise to protect Marie, and he didn't exclude himself from that promise. But it did make for a more difficult relationship.

"Well, I got a place up north. Little cabin. We could go there if you wanna." He started to worry as soon as the words left his lips. He hand't thought it through. What if that was too much? She might just be kidding or at least less than serious about leaving the mansion. What if she needed to be here, with her friends? What if she needed the safety net of Chuck checking in with her every day? What if -

Part of Logan screamed that it could be another mistake, another serious one, and why the hell would she want to be secluded with him anyway? His brain said that it was a risk, that she probably wasn't ready to be *so* alone with him. His heart ached to go, but flinched at the possibility of a misstep just when the relationship was going so well as-is. But there was something - the same something that had told him to stop and pick her up, the same something that made him stay this time, the same something that just hummed and came alive when he was with her - that was telling him to go. In the end, it was really that simple - a choice of which inner voice to obey.