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Title: Moving
in With Marie
Author:
Terri
Email: xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating:
PG, swearing
Summary:
Logan comes back, but there's some stuff going on with Rogue.
Disclaimer:
Not mine, bummer.
Archive:
Ask, and I will gladlly oblige.
Feedback:
Please! With a cherry on top?
Author's
Notes: As you can probably tell, this isn't part of the "Eighteen" series.
I wrote this while I was having a little writer's block on "Eighteen songs"
and decided maybe I could post it while I'm taking my sweet old time with
the next "Eighteen" story.
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I thought,
for some reason, that coming back would be an event. That people would, I
don't know, run out to greet me, that the Professor would call me into his
office, that maybe Jeannie would rush into my arms and tell me that she decided
that Scooter wasn't the mutant for her after all. What I got, when I came
back after more than a year, was silence. I walked right through the gates,
and up to the house, without being noticed. Well, that's not entirely true.
Some of the kids did notice, but they mostly just scurried away.
I went into
the house, looked around. Nobody I recognized. Not in the foyer, not in the
kitchen, not in the halls. Finally, some dickhead with a totally fake accent
asked me who I was and how he could help me.
"Professor
Xavier around?"
"He is in
Amsterdam for de international conference on 'uman rights."
"Dr. Grey?"
"Who?"
I huffed,
and wondered why, exactly, I was expecting a coherent answer out of someone
who had the total lack of sense to wear a trenchcoat inside the house. "Jean
Grey. You know. Tall, leggy, red hair."
"Ah, Dr.
Summers." Well, there goes that particular part of my little fantasy reunion.
"She is out."
"Out where?"
"Out."
OK, getting
pissed off here. "Where's Rogue?"
"Out."
All right,
passing pissed, moving on to homicidal. "Out where, asshole?" I took a step
forward, wearing my standard bad ass expression.
Trenchcoat
boy wasn't budging. "Who are you?"
"A friend
of hers, now where is she?"
"I told
you, mon ami," he said, entirely too nicely for my comfort, "Rogue, she is
out."
"Look, bub
- " My next effort at persuasion was broken off by a strong vibration passing
just overhead. The Blackbird, I realized. Jean had been out on a mission.
But that still didn't answer where Marie was. Instead of getting the answers
the hard way from trench coat boy, I just gave him a glare and headed for
the lower levels.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I remembered,
barely, where the hangar was. The jet had just landed, all right. I smirked
- make a nice surprise for Scooter to come out and see me - and waited. The
door opened, and something much less pleasant greeted me.
It was Marie,
in an X-man uniform. That in and of itself pissed me off, because why the
fuck would they let a kid join their little adventure squad? Didn't they
realize that shit was dangerous? The next thing I noticed was that the uniform
had scorch marks and tears, and that scared the living shit out of me. My
brain just barely got in the idea that if she was walking off the jet, it
couldn't be that bad, but I bolted to her anyway.
She looked
up, probably responding to the motion before realizing it was me. She had
this hard look in her eye, not mean, just all-business, for just a second.
Then, she must've realized who it was because that look dissolved into a
big Marie smile.
I was still
seriously pissed, though, and the fact that I could smell her blood was jacking
me up even more. "What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?"
"It's good
to see you," she just kept smiling, like I hadn't said a thing, "I'm so glad
you're back." She kept walking toward me, and didn't seem to be in pain or
anything, and my stomach started to churn, thinking that she was so hurt,
that something was so goddamn wrong that she didn't even register that she
needed help.
"You're hurt."
I said it like an accusation. She stopped just a few steps from me, standing
still. I could see that she hadn't registered what I said. She looked like
she was deciding something, but hell if I knew what. I couldn't take much
more of this; all my senses were running on overload. "Come here, kid," I
said, and I reached out to touch her shoulders. She flinched a little but
didn't back away, and I winced, thinking I might have hurt her. But then she
just kind of launched herself into me, hugging me for all she was worth.
And she
was worth a lot, I'll tell you, because she hugged me within about an inch
of suffocation, metal skeleton or no. "It's so good to see you, Logan."
I looked
over her shoulder and saw Scooter, 'Ro, and Jeannie coming off the plane
behind her. They all smiled at me, even Scooter, just a little. I didn't really
think about that though. All that registered was that none of them had a
fucking scratch on them. Their dumbass leather uniforms were untouched. "What
the hell happened, kid?"
She stepped
back from me a little, and, I'll tell you, when those big brown eyes are
turned on you with that kind of warmth, you just pause and soak it in. At
least you do if you're me, and you haven't seen that look on anybody else
in your life, ever. Not for you. She looked so pleased, you know? Not that
many people are happy to see me, period - in fact, most of the people who
ever were are right in this room - but I don't think anyone's ever greeted
me with that kind of a look besides her. So you can understand why I forgot
for a second that she was hurt and I was pissed, and that my big return wasn't
anything I planned, and why I ran a hand through her hair like some pansy
ass before I could catch myself.
"Nothing,
Logan, I'm fine. Just a few cuts and scrapes."
"Good to
have you back, Logan," Jeannie said as she passed me on her way through the
room, "Come and see me, Rogue, if you need help." Scooter nodded at me, and
'Ro clasped my shoulder, and why the hell weren't they paying any attention
to the fact that Marie was hurt?
"Kid, go
with Jeannie, you need help - "
"Really,
Logan, I'm just fine." She tilted her head a little, and got this really peaceful,
warm expression. "I'm so glad you're back."
"Yeah." I
was clearly not picking up all the radar signals here. Something was fucking
off. "What the hell happened? You on the team now?" I didn't mean for it to
come out quite so harsh. She didn't seem offended, but the smile was a little
less peaceful now.
"Yes, I'm
on the team now. We had a mission. A lot's happened since you've been gone,
Logan."
"Obviously."
I crossed my arms, mentally already planning the new asshole I'd be tearing
Scooter and Wheels for letting her do this shit. They were supposed to be
protecting her, letting her grow up normal - well, as normal as possible -
not throwing her out there to fight the bad guys. Shit, I wouldn't have left
her here if I thought......
"Yeah. C'mon,
let's get out of here." She linked her arm in mine then looked up at me,
like she was making sure it was OK or something. Still with those big brown
eyes. "I need to get out of these clothes."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She took
me up to her room and sat me on the bed. She had to kind of lead me because
at that moment I was pretty much the definition of at a loss. I just sat
there, while she went into the bathroom, closing the door almost but not
quite all the way. "I'll be out in a minute. Just make yourself at home."
"You sure
you're all right?"
"Fine. Just
scratched up a little. There's one cut that's bleeding a little. I'm just
gonna bandage it."
"Do you
need help?"
"Nah, I
got it. When did you get back?"
"Just now."
I could hear the sound of running water, and I could smell her blood a little
more strongly. She must've been cleaning the wound. I had this insane urge
to rip the door off the hinges, toss her on the bed, and pour over every inch
of her to be sure she was OK. "Who's the dickhead in the trench coat?"
"Who? Remy?"
"Remy? What
the hell kind of name is that?"
'What kind
of name is Wolverine?" she teased. I liked that she teased me, you know?
I did. Nobody else teased me.
"A hell
of a lot better name than Remy. If that's his real name, what's his code
name?"
"Gambit,"
she answered, her voice sounding a little strained now. "He just got here
a few weeks ago."
"Marie,"
I got up from the bed, double-checking the insanity content of my earlier
plan just to make sure it was still a no-go. I could smell the blood and hear
the pain in her voice. "You OK?"
"Yeah, just
stings a little, that's all."
What I did
next just wasn't reasonable. Nope, no way. She explicitly said that she was
fine. But then again, fuck reasonable, right? I'm the Wolverine, reasonable
isn't in my vocabulary. I went to the bathroom and opened the door a little
wider, saying "Look, kid, you obviously need some help, you sound like -
"
I never
did get to finish that thought because I opened the door to reveal a stark
naked Marie. Naked as a jaybird. Naked as the day she was born. That kind
of naked. Except for my tags. She was wearing my tags.
"Logan!"
She looked up at me, but, since she had one foot on the toilet seat and was
in the process of bandaging the cut on her thigh, she couldn't really move
or cover herself. I got a damn fine view of her backside. "What are you doing?"
Her entire body flushed red, and part of me had to snicker at that. I caused
the girl a full-body blush.
"Sorry,"
I said, but didn't actually move. "I thought you needed help." I thought she'd
be pissed or start yelling or something. Instead, she just shook her head
a little and smiled.
"Logan,
I'm fine, I got it covered. Now please, get out of my bathroom before I die
of embarrassment, OK?"
"OK." I
felt guilty then for not looking away from her naked body even once during
this whole little encounter, and I headed back to sit on her bed. She swung
the door a little more shut when I turned away, but still didn't shut it completely.
"Sorry."
"Jeez, I
said I was fine. I'll be out in a second."
"Sorry."
I don't think I've said "sorry" three times in the whole past year, and here
I am saying in three times inside of a minute.
"It's OK."
I could hear rustling around in there. Sounded like she was putting some
clothes on. Good. Clothes were good. "Hey, Logan, are my gloves out there?
Brown ones?"
I looked
around, quickly spotting them on the dresser next to the bathroom doorway.
"They're on your dresser, kid."
She giggled.
"I'd think you'd stop callin' me that after what just happened."
"Shit," I
muttered under my breath. Stop thinking about naked Marie. Stop thinking about
naked Marie bending over. Stop thinking about naked Marie, bending over,
wearing my tags, with all that pale skin - "You always walk around naked
with guys in your room?" I could tease, too.
"No." She
appeared in the doorway, dressed in red pajamas and white socks. Still had
my tags on, I noticed. "I wasn't runnin' around, anyway, I was nice and concealed
in the bathroom, and you barged in."
"Sorry,
kid."
"It's all
right, don't worry about it. I'll just fling the shower curtain back while
you're in there one of these days, and we'll be even." She was clearly having
fun, not pissed or embarrassed. I was glad she wasn't being all weird about
it, but, damn, being interrupted in the shower by naked tag-wearing Marie
was not a mental picture I needed to have. Not if I was going to ever take
anything resembling a quick shower ever again.
Her eyes
sparkled as she pulled on the gloves, and I noticed for the first time that
there was a bruise on her neck too. "Hey, what happened?" I gestured to her
neck.
"We got
a call - some anti-mutant demonstrators were getting a little too rowdy outside
one of those mutant rights law offices. Some moron grabbed me, tried to strangle
me." She said it real easily, like it was nothing, and I didn't like that
at all. "I broke his nose. Good thing he didn't get my bare skin." She made
it sound like that was a good thing for her, not him. "Anyway, I lost concentration
for a second, and his buddy took a slash at me. It's not deep. It'll heal
fine." She sat down at the foot of the bed, opposite me.
"You shouldn't
be doing this shit, Marie. You're too young - "
"I'm eighteen,
I'll be nineteen in a few weeks." Her eyes were sad for the first time that
day, and I wondered what that was all about.
"Exactly.
What about college? What about a normal life, kid?"
"Oh, come
on, you know I'll never have a 'normal life.' And I didn't wanna go to college."
"If you
need money - " I was mentally calculating how many cage fights would buy
tuition and room and board.
"The Professor
offered, but I didn't want to go."
"Why not?
You're smart." She smiled a little at that. "You should go."
"Some things
have happened while you've been gone," she began. I didn't like where this
was going. Things happening that made her turn her back on the chance to
go to college, things happening that made her join the team couldn't be good
things, and I was already feeling less than good about leaving her here. I
didn't want to feel guilty. "I...I killed someone, Logan. A mutant, a woman.
I....she could fly. Now I can too. I belong on the team, Logan, not in school.
I should try to do something with my life." She said it all gently, thoughtfully.
Like she didn't want to tell the story but she wanted me to understand the
moral of it.
"Don't buy
into all this bullshit of Xavier's. All this save the world bullshit. I don't
want you getting hurt. That's not why I left you here. They said they'd take
care of you, dammit."
"They are,"
she reached out to me with a gloved hand, but pulled it back. "It hasn't been
easy, Logan, and they've all been here for me. They've all been good to me."
Something about the way she said it was wrong. You'd think she'd say it like
- they were here and you weren't, asshole - or maybe - quit talking shit
on my friends, asshole - but she didn't. She just sounded grateful. Grateful
and pulling her hand back, not touching. Something wasn't right.
"How long?"
I reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it in both of mine. Her eyes
widened just a bit, and I could hear her heart beat fast, then calm.
"Six months.
I've been on the team for six months." She looked worried. "Are you - you're
touching me."
"Yeah." Now
I was sure something was very definitely fucking wrong. She'd always been
real careful of her skin, but I remember touching her a lot, through clothes
and on skin, and she never looked surprised in quite the way she was now.
"So?"
She tilted
her head again, smiling almost shyly. "No one touches me. You know, like
that. Before, I was just - I was happy to see you, but I didn't think......no
one touches me just because."
"Morons."
I couldn't help it. It was in my brain, so it went right out of my mouth.
She looked surprised at that even more than when I took her hand, so I elaborated.
"They'd have to be morons."
"Well, they're
morons with an instinct for self-preservation." She was trying to joke, but
I could tell she wasn't feeling it. It wasn't reaching her eyes.
"Self-preservation's
overrated." I don't know why, but that came out all low and growly, and I
started rubbing small circles in the palm of her hand. Shit, I wasn't even
thinking about her naked just then.
She smiled
at me, this crooked little half-smile kind of thing, the same kind of smile
I saw on her when I gave her the tags and left. "I'm so glad you're back."
"Me too,
kid." I was still rubbing her hand and she was still looking at me, and I'm
not quite sure what was going on. I didn't want to leave her alone, but some
part of me wanted to end this - whatever - before something else - some other
thing happened. OK, I'm not articulate, deal with it. "I gotta...I gotta
go see Scooter." I let go of her gradually, hearing a little sigh when my
hands were gone completely.
"Don't yell
at him. It's not his fault I joined the team."
"It's sure
as hell his fault that he let you, isn't it?" I stood up, pissed off again,
looking forward to telling off one-eye in no uncertain terms.
"Logan -
" She cut herself off, then frowned. "You should know.....I guess I should
tell you...."
"What?"
"Well, you
might want to sit, this is difficult."
She looked
so damn sad, I almost sat next to her and hugged her. But a flash of naked-Marie
went through my head when I thought of hugging her I had other thoughts too
and I decided it was better to just sit a little at the other end of the
bed.
"I'm sorry
to have to tell you this, but - "
Shit, it
couldn't be good, she was wringing her hands and it looked like she was gonna
cry any second. I have no idea if this has anything to do with Scooter or
what, but God, he or whoever's responsible is in for an epic ass-kicking.
For putting that expression on her face or for letting whatever happened happen.
Epic.
"Scott and
Jean - "
Jean did
something to upset Marie? Scooter, I'd believe, but Jeannie? That just didn't
seem like -
"They got
married last month." She took in a long breath and held it.
"Yeah?"
Did something happen at the wedding? Did some psycho try to crash it, and
that's the woman Marie ended up killing?
"You're
not upset?" Now she didn't look sad, just confused as hell.
"About what?
Tell me what happened."
"About Scott
and Jean, you know, getting married."
That's what
she's talking about? She's upset that they got married? No, no, she thinks
I'm upset they got married. Ah, got it. "Not really." Whoa, that just popped
out. "I knew it would happen."
"I'm sorry.
I know you how you feel about Jean."
I forget
sometimes she has me in her head. "Yeah, well, she made her choice." My voice
actually sounded pretty damn even. "Nothing else to it."
"So....you're
OK with that?"
I shrugged.
Actually, I was surprisingly OK with it. I liked flirting with Jean, and,
sure, I'd have liked to throw her up against a wall and nail the hell out
of her, but I mostly liked how she wanted me even though she was engaged
to Scott when we met. Nice to know I can attract a good one every now and
then, you know?
"Good, I'm
glad. I wasn't sure. The you in my head has been pretty quiet about it, but....."
"I'm still
in there, huh?" That really shouldn't make me feel nice, but it does.
"Yeah."
She said it soft and wistful, like she was pleased by it too.
"I gotta
go see Scott."
"OK." She
smiled gently, and just sat there, waiting for me to go. It struck me that
she didn't ask if I was coming back, or how long I'd be around for, or if
she'd see me tomorrow. Just "OK."
"I'll be
back up later." I nodded to my duffel bag. I'd carted it up and plopped it
in her room when we came up. I'd have to come back for it. The thought that
I always seemed to be leaving things that I'd have to come back for with
her didn't unsettle me as much as it should have. "Get some rest, kid." She
smiled and nodded, that same warm and peaceful look back again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I don't
care what powers she has, what the hell could you have been thinking to put
her in that uniform?" I was good and pissed and quite content to take it
out on Scooter.
"Logan,
I discussed it with the Professor, and he agreed that, given everything that's
happened that it might help - "
"It might
help what? It sure as hell doesn't seem helpful to her - she's up there laying
in bed with a banged up leg and strangulation marks on her neck!"
"She's not
the little girl you left, Logan." Whoa, Scooter actually put some heat into
that one. "Things have happened that - "
"What things?"
I wanted a fucking explanation. Enough dancing around.
"That's her
story to tell, if she chooses to tell you." It ticked me off to no end that
Scooter's tone said he thought she shouldn't. "But I'm warning you, don't
push her, she's been through a lot, and, despite how it might seem, she's
pretty fragile. Don't hurt her."
That put
me over into the red zone. "Don't hurt her?" My voice was low and tense.
"I know what you think of me Scooter, but - "
"Please,"
Scooter looked as pissed as I felt, and that surprised me. "That noble act
might work on Jean, but don't try to put it over on me. You stabbed her through
the chest. You picked up and left her after you promised to take care of her."
"I promised
to come back, and I did. Shit, I even called her and sent postcards and shit!"
I could've
sworn that Scooter was rolling that one eye of his behind the visor. "Oh
you called, you sent postcards. How very good of you. Let's all give Logan
credit for showing a hint of responsibility. You weren't here. She needed
you here. We had to take care of her instead.."
"Was it
such a fucking burden to you?"
Scooter stopped,
all the anger draining out of him, all of a sudden. "No. She could never
be a burden." I didn't like the way he said that. Like he knew her or something.
I knew her, me, like no one else. Just me. Not fucking one-eye. "We just
couldn't give her what she needed."
"What did
she need that you and all the assorted x-geeks couldn't give her, huh?"
"She needed
someone she trusted completely, Logan, and for better or worse - and God
knows I'll never understand her judgment on this one - that person is you."
"Why didn't
she ever say anything? When I called she was - "
"She didn't
want you to come back because of her. She knew you were looking for your
past, that it was important to you."
"I didn't
find jack shit, I would've dropped it and -
"
"Think, Logan."
Scooter was about to lecture me, I recognized that tone. "She knows you.
She knew you'd come back if she gave even a hint something was wrong. She
said to me once - what was it? Something like she didn't want to be an obligation
to you. If she said something and you came back, it'd be out of obligation.
You know it, I know it, and she would know it too. How would that make her
feel, hmm?"
"Fuck you,
Cycolps. You can't blame that on me. You probably fucking encouraged her.
You probably hoped I'd never come back." OK, that didn't follow the conversational
path to date, but this whole discussion was pissing me off. I was supposed
to be busting Scott's ass, not vice versa.
"That's not
true. Believe me, I never thought I'd say it, but there were nights I prayed
to God you'd just show up at the door. For her sake."
Something
clicked into place then. He didn't smile when he saw me because he was glad
to see me; probably Jean and 'Ro too. They were all glad for Rogue. Fuck.
Something was seriously wrong. Some very bad shit went down, and she didn't
tell me. She didn't call me home. Fuck. She didn't want to be an obligation.
Fuck, fuck fuck. "Scott," His head snapped up a little at that. I don't think
I ever called him that. "Just tell me what happened to her."
"She'll
tell you. When she's ready. Just.....just give her time."
I was scared,
really scared now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wandered
around downstairs for a while, chewing on a cigar, and growling at all who
crossed my path. I wanted to go upstairs and make her tell me what the hell
happened right fucking now. That way I could fix it, or kill whoever needed
killing, and she'd be OK and I'd be OK, and everything would go back to normal.
Yeah, right. Like anything in my life is ever normal.
"Remy did
not realize dat you are de famous Wolverine."
Shit, I
should have smelled him. God knows, he smells bad enough. Stupid cologne.
Too wrapped up in my own thoughts. Fuck.
"De one
on Rogue's tags." Trenchcoat boy didn't sound like he liked that.
"What exactly
did I do to give you the impression I give a shit about anything you have
to say?" I wasn't in the mood.
The little
fucker actually laughed. "Rogue, she is a good person, comprends? She got
a good heart, dat girl. She is not one to play with."
Was he trying
to warn me off of Marie? My Marie? "You remember that then." It came out
feral, growling, and as menacing as anything I'd ever said. Before I let
myself act on the impulse to skewer him, I stomped upstairs.
I headed
to her room fully prepared to tell her that I needed to know, right now.
I'd tell her that, whatever it was, I'd take care of it, because I was here
now. I'd tell her to remember that I'm the baddest of bad asses, and whoever
hurt her is going down, hard. And I'd sure as hell get rid of the notion
that she's some kind of obligation or burden or fucking ball and chain to
me. Shit, I -
"No." Marie's
voice, faint and pleading, through the door. Too quiet for anyone else to
hear.
I hit that
stairway at fucking light speed, and flung open the door. She was alone,
and asleep. She didn't hear me. She was deep into a nightmare. She'd showered
- her hair was wet and it clung to her face as she writhed on the bed. She
wore a different set of pajamas, socks, and gloves.
"No!"
Shit. I
closed the door behind me and locked it.
"Please,
no, stop." She sounded so goddamn pitiful. My claws slid out before I knew
it, and it took a few seconds to put them back. Calm down, Logan. It's just
a dream, she's not hurt.
"Don't......don't,
please." That last word came out in a sob. She hasn't sounded like that since
that night with Magneto. At least not that I knew of. Shit.
"Marie."
"Stop it,
just stop it, please."
"Marie,
wake up." I shook her shoulder a little. Come on, wake up, kid. Please.
"Unnhh,
no."
"Marie,
baby." I shook her a little harder, just a little. "Come on, honey, wake
up."
She sat
up all of a sudden, eyes open, crying big wet tears. "Logan?"
"Yeah, baby."
I moved around to get behind her and hold her. She was crying and shaking,
and, shit, all of a sudden my chest was tight and my heart was beating fast.
"I'm sorry."
She choked it out, between sobs. I hated seeing her like this. I HATED it.
"It's all
right. I'm here. Just tell me, just tell me what's wrong."
"Nightmare."
She was calming now.
"Mine or
yours?"
She choked
out a laugh. "Mine. I'm sorry."
"It's all
right. Want to talk about it?" A shiver, strong, ran through her whole body.
My whole plan, my whole, "tell me now" plan went down the tubes right then
and there. I couldn't take it, seeing her hurting. I couldn't make her go
through whatever it is unless she was ready. "It's OK, you don't have to."
"I'm sorry."
"Hey," I
used the part of my wrist covered by my shirt sleeve to lift her chin so that
she faced me. Her face was red and blotchy, her hair was wild, and her eyes
were bloodshot. I should not be thinking about how she could look like that
and still look so damn good to me. "Stop apologizing. At least you didn't
rip my lung out or anything."
That got
me another little laugh. She steadied herself and separated from me. "Thanks.I
didn't mean to fall asleep."
Looking back,
maybe I shouldn't have done it. Maybe I should have just grabbed a pillow
and hit the floor. But I kept thinking about what Scooter said, about how
she wouldn't ask me to come back, and I remembered that she'd only ever asked
me for one thing, to help her, that day in the cold on the road in Canada.
Even then she didn't really ask, just "Thought you might help me." I thought
about how I liked that, that she never asked me for things, but she told
me things. She didn't ask me to stay when I left Xavier's, just said she
didn't want me to go. How she didn't ask where I'd been or what I was doing
when I called from the road, just said she was glad I was OK and she liked
hearing my voice. And I thought that maybe that's why I wanted to give her
things, because she never asked. Or maybe it's because I couldn't help giving
her things, even when she didn't ask. Maybe I shouldn't have done it, but,
on the other hand, maybe it was just giving in to the inevitable.
"Move over
a little." I kicked off my boots, and swung my legs up on the bed. She had
a big bed, queen size at least, and there was plenty of room for two. In
that moment, I decided. It was going to be us. No more of this wandering around
shit, not unless she came with me. No more dropping her off. No more worrying
about her age, and my past, and her skin, and my claws. There's going to
be me and her, us, and that's the end of that story.
"Logan,
it's dangerous." She whispered it with wide eyes still wet with tears.
"I won't
hurt you, I promise."
"I know."
The absolute confidence in her voice made my stomach flip. "I don't want
to hurt you."
"Lie down,
with your back to me." She gave me a look, but did what I told her. I wrapped
myself around her, hands circling her waist. I figured the only exposed skin
was her face, and sleeping like this would keep us both safe. I think it
made her nervous that my hands were bare. But she'd stopped shivering and
I could hear her heart beat in a nice, steady rhythm. "Just sleep, baby."
"I like
it when you call me that."
I smiled
and kissed the top of her head, grateful that she seemed to be regaining
some equilibrium. "Better than kid, huh?"
"Much."
I could feel her body relaxing back against mine. "Thanks, Logan."
"Anytime,
kid." The sharp elbow to my ribs told me that she was OK, at least a little.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that's
how I ended up living with Marie. I slept in her bed that night, showered
in her bathroom the next morning, and quietly put my things in her closet
and dresser later that day. We didn't discuss it, no big relationship talk,
I just decamped, and there it was. I don't think Scooter liked it, but Marie
liked having me there, so fuck him.
We fell
into this routine. She'd get up first, shower with the door open just a little.
I'd lay in bed and smell her and the girlie shower gel she uses, and wait
for her to come back out. Then I'd shower and shave, and sometimes she'd
come in and dry her hair while I did. I never shied away from letting her
see me naked. She was more modest, but, when you're living together in a
small room, it can't be helped. We never got weird about it. Although, after
a while, I did develop a habit of watching her dress. She'd come out of the
bathroom in underwear and a bra, and I'd lay and watch her dress sometimes
before going in to shower. It sounds dirty, perverted, I know, but the truth
is I hardly ever had sexual thoughts about her then. I just liked watching
her do private things, I guess, things no one else got to see her do.
We'd come
down for late breakfast, then we'd train together, then lunch, then training,
then dinner. We never stayed around downstairs for long after dinner. I think
Scott and Jean and 'Ro and that twit Remy all thought we couldn't wait to
get back upstairs and get it on. Actually, we did spend a lot of time in
bed -she read and I'd watch hockey or football or wrestling, whatever. We
just liked being in bed together. It was warm, and close, and I think it
made her feel safe. I noticed when we were downstairs, she was nice and friendly
and Marie-like, but, she was right, no one ever touched her. She never touched
them. And it was more than that, it was almost like she was nervous around
people. Anybody. Anybody but me. Hell, neither one of us really liked crowds.
We preferred to be alone, just us.
We took
turns "dressing up" for bed, as she put it. One of us would cover, head to
toe - socks, gloves, the whole bit - and the other would wear whatever they
wanted. For me, usually boxers, nothing else. For her, a little t-shirt and
some underwear. I think she liked that the best, that she could lay with me
and be close without being all covered. We were careful, and there was never
an accident.
When we
slept together, we didn't do anything sexual, not really. Not that I didn't
want to, but something told me it wasn't what she needed. And, frankly, I'm
more animal than man sometimes, but a few months of holding my girl and kissing
her head or shoulder were doable. Especially since every night when I'd curl
around her, she'd whisper "Thank you," and every night my heart would just
about break, knowing how much just being with her meant to her.
The nightmares
still happen, but she won't talk to me about it yet. I know she'll tell me
one day, when she's ready. I ain't going anywhere. I did ask her why she
didn't tell me anything when I called from the road, and she did say something
about that.
"It just
didn't feel right."
"Whaddya
mean, baby?"
She always
smiles a little when I called her that. "I didn't want to make you come back.
I knew you needed to be doing what you were doing."
"Marie,"
I couldn't even believe I was about to go all mushy, but hell, "You know you're
not....you know I like being around you."
"I kind
of got that from how you moved in with me."
"I'm serious.
I don't want you to think that I'm hanging out because I feel like I have
to or something. That isn't it."
I'll never
forget how she looked at me then, real intense, like she was taking it all
in and deciding something. Something damn important. All she said was, "OK,"
but I knew a hell of a lot more was going on in there. But I knew her. She'd
let me know when she was ready. And I'd be sticking around until she did.
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