Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

Comments: This was inspired by Nadine's most recent beautiful graphic, above. Of course, me being me, I latched on to one word of the graphic and ran with it - eleven. I don't know what it is with me and numbers - lord knows I've always hated Math with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. But that word jumped out, mutated into a vicious bunny that flung aside all the others in line, and demanded to be written. I hope Nadine likes it, even if it is a departure from what she might've been expecting ;)

I've had a lotta hard things in my life - even if you just count the parts I remember. Lotta hard things, lotta painful things, lotta just plain fucked-up things. Most of 'em, no one knows about. There are some even Marie don't know about. I'm just not the kinda guy that goes around pissin' and moanin' 'bout every little thing, you know? I don't need sympathy from anybody, and, frankly, it just pisses me off when people feel sorry for me.

'Course, there have been good things too, lots of them, more than I deserve, that's for sure. Mosta those begin and end with Marie. She gave me a lot, and I'm not ignorant of that fact. Still, when I look back on my life so far, and I think about the *important* times, none of the really good or really bad times necessarily make the top ten. Seems like the important times were both good and bad; they were real, they were true, and they changed my life, but nothin's as easy as 'good' and 'bad.' Hell, sometimes it's hard to tell which is which.

The first important thing was wakin' up in the snow, naked and alone, all those years ago. It was important for a coupla reasons - one, I woke up. I didn't die, even though those fuckers that had me left me for dead. That's the good part, or at least I think so now. There was a lotta years that I wasn't so sure if I wouldnta been better off, all things considered, if I just gave up the ghost right then and there, like they planned.

'Course, there was plenty of bad to go along with the good. I was naked, and when it's twenty below, that ain't a good thing. It goes beyond bein' uncomfortable. Your skin literally freezes, and anyone who's ever felt their fingers or toes tingle painfully when they first come in from bein' outside on a cold, winter day knows about one millionth of what it feels like when your whole body starts to thaw out after a long time of freezin' up.

That wasn't the only problem. I don't like to think 'bout it, but I did a helluva bad thing that day - I took someone else's life. Sure, you could say I was still more animal than man or that it wasn't really my fault 'cause of all the shit they did to me, but I know the truth. And the truth is that what I did *was* a bad thing, and I knew that it was. I was sane enough, man enough for that. But I did it anyway. That's one of the things Marie don't know and never will. Or at least I don't think she knows. She don't tell what all she got in her head from me. Still dunno if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But, I'm gettin' ahead of myself here.

I took another life, mostly 'cause he had the bad fortune of passin' by the nearest road. The fact that he was wearin' a lab coat - well, that coulda been coincidence, but it was his bad luck in any case. Sometimes I try to convince myself that he probably hadta be from the lab where I was - wasn't much else out there, and that's what I'd lay money on if I hadta take a bet. Still, I dunno who he was, really. I never looked through his ID, just took the money and the truck and stripped off his clothes. The animal parts of me wanted to rip into his flesh with my teeth, to feel his blood pass my lips and warm me, but I didn't do that. Which I usedta think was a good thing, but now - now, sometimes I think it just goes to show that I did have enough control, I did know what I was doin' enough to be able to stop myself, and that's more damnin' than anythin' else I can think of.

Now, if you'd have asked me, even as recently as a coupla years ago, whether this woulda been a good or bad thing, I woulda toldya - bad, no question. Took me a while to realize that it wasn't all bad. Sometimes lookin' back can do that for ya. Havin' a helluva lot more goin' for me in my life now makes it a little easier to take, at least.

See, when I first started goin' around, lookin' for food and work, I ran inta someone willin' to help me. At first, I thought - hot damn, my luck is comin' in. Here was a real nice lady, owned a bar, willin' to put me up, feed me, give me a job cleanin' up the place. Yeah, it wasn't winnin' the lottery or anythin', but it was about as close to havin' all my dreams fulfilled as it got at the time. So I took her up on her offer. Got settled in, real nice. Thought I was doin' a good job for her, got proud of myself, got to thinkin' I was somethin'.

I found out later that it was - she coulda made a lotta money offa me in the ring, thousands. Which is why she took me in, in the first place. Back then - well, let's just say that I didn't give people enough credit for bein' devious and self-servin'. Anyhow, I did as she asked, I got in the ring. Wasn't until I was in there, beatin' the hell outta the first guy, that it dawns on me - shit, people are gonna get suspicious 'bout me bein' a mutie if they see me healin' right up. I'd listened enough to the dead guy's radio to realize that: A) I was a mutie, and, B) that wasn't a good thing. So I tried fakin' goin' down, takin' a fall.

Well, my new friend Mrs. Barkeep, she wasn't too happy with that. She lost a lotta dough. After that first match, she cornered me, hauled me into the kitchen in back. What the hell do ya think you're doin', she asked me. You can't take a dive, I got money on ya, ya worthless piece of shit. Go back out there in the second round and *fight*.

Lookin' back on it now, I dunno why I didn't tell her where to stick it. I mean, it was plain enough by then that she wasn't helpin' me outta the goodness of her heart, and there was plenty of venom in her eyes when she was bitchin' me out. But, somehow, I still wanted to please her, so I went back out. Guy number two comes out, lays inta me, and I come up with a brilliant new strategy - if I can't take a dive, well, maybe I should see if I can get the other guy down as soon as possible. I figured one punch to his jaw oughta do it, and so I gave my next roundhouse everythin' I had.

I'll never forget it - it happened in slow motion, kinda. I connected with his jaw, heard a loud- ass crack, and watched as his face contorted and his jaw bone slammed upward inta his skull. It was almost like his whole skull shattered like glass - there were little bits of bone stickin' outta his face, and for a second, I thought I was gonna have another dead guy to my credit in less than a month. He hit the ring floor like a sack of potatoes, went down hard. He lived, though - I made sure to check, later. He lived and got married to some Eskimo woman. They had three kids, and they hadta live offa the government 'cause he couldn't work ever again after that. I found all that out later.

After he went down, there was just this silence that came over the place, a hush, like everyone was too shocked to even breathe for a coupla seconds. Soon enough, though, the announcer came over and raised my hand, declared me the winner. I couldn't take my eyes offa the guy on the mat; I let the announcer parade me around some, and then I knelt beside the guy. He wasn't conscious anymore, but I could hear breathin', so I called for someone to help him. Old guy, probably the town doc or somethin', finally came inta the ring to look at him, givin' me a real wide berth. I figured that was about all I could do to fix it, and I looked up, tryin' to sight the woman.

Before I knew it, I was outta the cage and in fronta her, claws out, ready to carve that smile offa her face. I did put one claw inta her cheek before I got a hold of myself, but it didn't do no life threatenin' damage, just made her a little more ugly on the outside to match how ugly she was on the inside. To tell ya the truth, I don't really regret it. Fuck her. Nobody uses me, nobody. For a long time, I felt like that whole thing was bad - I let myself get fucked over, almost killed a guy 'cause of it, and was stupid enough to think that someone would actually try to fuckin' help me just to do a good deed or some shit. Not much good there, as you can see.

But Marie - she knows about it, and we talked about it one day. I was waitin' for her to feel sorry for me or maybe even shocked at what I did. She knows me, really knows me, and she knows that I got a short fuse and a mean streak a mile wide when you hurt me or mine. She knows I ain't Mr. Nice, and I'm ashamed to say she knows that first-hand, too. But I shouldnta been too surprised at her reaction. I know her too, and she kinda is Ms. Nice, at least when it comes to me. She said that there was somethin' good outta all that - that I took a chance and trusted someone; it was good that that was my first reaction, that I had it in me to do that after everythin'. I said - yeah, but I got royally fucked over for it. She agreed, but she said that don't mean it wasn't a good thing to try. Don't know that I agree with her totally, but there is somethin' there.

After the thing with the lady, I figured - if that's what people are gonna use me for, fightin', makin' a livin' with my flesh and blood, well, I'm gonna take control of it before anybody else gets the chance to. I started fightin', in cage matches, bein' a little more careful with my blows, learnin' how to avoid gettin' hit, learnin' how to fake bein' hurt. After a while, I was makin' good money at it and no one else was gettin' hurt - well, not worse than a concussion or broken bones or some shit, and that's what they woulda got with any human in the ring. Hell, I figured they were catchin' a break by fightin' me - unlike a lotta the guys, I wasn't out to kill 'em or incapacitate 'em just to make a name for myself.

After a little over a year, I got word of a big tournament in the Yukon, some little outta the way bar. I decide - fuck, if the purse is as good as they say, I'm goin'. At the time I wanted to buy a better truck and maybe a camper. Some of the guys on the fight circuit had 'em, and it looked like a pretty good deal to me. I didn't want a house or clothes; I didn't need a lotta shit and I didn't wanna be tied down to one place. I hadta move with the circuit. The only thing I really did want was a bike - a motorcycle. Figured I musta had one before or somethin' 'cause I wanted one bad. But I decided to wait on that. Bikes ain't much good in a coupla feet of snow, and it was winter in Canada after all. So, anyhow, I decided that the way to my new truck and camper was this big fight.

It was hosted at Jack's place. I don't mind tellin' ya, at first I didn't like the looks of him. Most men - I give 'em a good, solid glare and they look away. Not Jack. Plus, he had this way about him, this manner. It kinda said - I know who I am, and I don't particularly give a shit what you think. I read that as arrogance, which it wasn't, but what the hell did I know back then?

I dunno what Jack ever saw in me. He never bet on me in the fights, I know that - and I beat up enough people to be sure I know that for certain. He didn't have friends, and to this day, I wouldn't say we are friends, even though that's what Marie calls him - a friend of the family. For whatever reason, though, after the first night of fightin' - in which I did damn well, thank you very much - I sit down and order a drink and he starts talkin' to me.

Now, you might think that's just the normal thing. For Christsakes, he's a bartender, after all, what the hell else is he gonna ask ya? Well, he always asks, but the thing is - he never brings ya what you fuckin' order. For years, I'd ask for a goddamn Molson and he comes over with bourbon or scotch or Guinness or some shit I wouldn't even be able to identify. Usedta piss me off until I got used to it, and that first time, I got real pissy with him. He just smiled and told me to drink what he'd brought; it was on the house. The other customers kinda laughed, but nervously - they saw what I could do in the ring. Jack, he looked amused the whole damn night. Gettin' free drinks was enough to keep me quiet that time, and all the times after that, well, I guess I just let it go. He always charged ya by what ya asked for, not what he brought, and sometimes he brought me some damn fine stuff, so what's to complain about, really? Sometimes you just hafta live with shit, you know?

Well, after I get over the drink thing, he starts makin' casual conversation here and there. He asks me first off what I think of boxin' - you know, is it a sport? I tell him I'm a fighter, not a boxer, so how the hell would I know and couldya get me the Molson I asked for this time? He brings me a scotch - Glenlivet, on the house. I grumbled a little, but it tasted like smooth, smoky fire, and I liked that a lot, so I wasn't too pissed. Then he asks me - am I a religious man? I tell him none of his fuckin' business and not to worry - I won't need last rites in the ring or some shit. Fine. Dandy. I ask for another Molson and he gets me some Johnnie Walker Black, askin' if I think democracy's the best system of government. I tell him they all look pretty much the same if you're on the bottom of the ladder, so does it really matter which one ya got?

Well, the whole night goes on like that. Second night, lotsa contenders, but I kick all their asses. Go over, sit down, Jack asks what I want to drink. I say Molson, but of course, I get Vodka. Whatever. I drink it. Jack starts with his usual kinda questions. 'Bout nine drinks in, almost at dawn, it's just me and him at the bar and now he's on to some damn fine bourbon. I was just enjoyin' a break in his questions, just gettin' comfortable in the silence, when he busts out with - anyone know you're a mutie? Well, I started and growled just like a dumbass, and that told him right there I was - no denyin' it then. So I decide to look all bad-ass and I tell him - 'no one left alive.' Jack bein' Jack just laughs a little and goes off to get me some more Kentucky Bourbon. This time, he pours himself a healthy shot, says - 'breakfast of champions' and downs it. I'm still steamin' pretty good from the whole mutie question, so I don't drink mine. After a second, he notices. Then he says - if you need someone to trust, you come to me. I won't be able to always watch your back, but I'll tell ya if I can't. I just nod and say 'whatever' 'cause by this time, trustin' people was off the menu.

But - and I didn't realize this until I was talkin' to Marie, preparin' her to meet Jack for the first time - that was an important thing, right there. 'Cause, eventually, I did trust Jack, and I needed someone to trust pretty bad, even if I never realized that until I looked back on it. I left my money, my camper, my stuff - everythin' I ever had in this world - with him for safekeepin' at one time or another. Hell, right now he's got ten thousand, Canadian, of mine for safekeepin', a little somethin' just in case. He knows to give it to Marie if somethin' ever happens to me. Actually, I think they kinda like each other. Not, you know, in a romantic way - hell, the guy's old enough to be her granddad - but I'm glad for it. Means she can trust him too.

And I think Marie knows that. She seemed to take to him right away. Heh. Takes me back to the first time I took her up north with me, first time I took her to Jack's. I told her all about the drink thing and the weird way of talkin' to ya and everythin', so she wouldn't think it was odd or somethin' when he did it. Sure enough, we come in, I introduce 'em, and he asks Marie what she wants to drink. She says Molson and he laughs a little, brings her a Guinness. I say - I toldya so, darlin'. Second round - Jack comes over and I order a Molson - by now, I know I'm gettin' anythin' but, but whatever, I'm used to it. Marie asks for a gin and tonic. Now, I know she hates gin - makes her sick to drink it, in fact - so I ask her why the hell she ordered that? Logan, she says, lookin' all sincere, it's the one thing I know I won't get. Both me and Jack laughed our asses off at that.

The next important thing was Marie-related. It was her, hitchin' a ride with me after that one fight that went down bad. Sometimes they went like that - people got suspicious eventually. If it'd been at Jacks, he woulda shut 'em up real quick. He don't tolerate shit in his bar. But it wasn't at his place, which, in the end, was fine 'cause it was where Marie was.

She don't talk about those days - the first coupla days we spent together - too much. I remember all that time pretty clear, except the times when I was unconscious. It makes her sad, I know, 'cause she got hurt and I got hurt and it was this big, traumatic thing in her life. I mean big, really big. I can understand why she don't like to dwell on it. But, not to be cold or calculating - it was better for me than it was for her, so I do remember it well. For her, it was bein' in danger of gettin' killed, me stabbin' her through the chest (which she don't comment on, but which I know hadta hurt, and not just in the physical way), and Magneto doin' - well, one time she called it 'mentally raped' and I went fuckin' ballistic and tore up the rec room so she don't use the 'r' word in reference to it no more, but I know what it was for her. You know, I'd better stop thinkin' on that altogether. I'll just get pissed.

The next important thing was Chuck givin' me a clue to my past. I don't really wanna think on that too much either, 'cause it really pisses me off that it wasn't productive - I didn't find a damn thing out about what happened to me, or who I was before. It was a mistake, a lead that didn't work out, and I understand that, so I'm not pissed at Chuck. But still, dammit, I wish I woulda found out somethin', anythin' from that. Just 'cause it didn't give me, that, though, don't mean it wasn't important.

It took me away from Marie, for almost six months. Sometimes I wonder if that was the point, if Chuck knew all along it'd just be one big, long wild goose chase. Dunno. Him, I definitely don't trust. He's a good guy, yeah, no question that's his basic thing. He's got an agenda, though, and that agenda is number one with him. Number freakin' one, to the exclusion of all else if need be. It ain't that I don't trust him 'cause I don't know him; on the contrary, I know him pretty fuckin' well by now and that's exactly how I know enough not to trust him. Anyhow, it was important because I was away from Marie, and all of a sudden, it was like all the air got sucked outta my life.

Nothin' was the same - I didn't like fightin', didn't like drivin', travelin', didn't like any of the things that usedta give me - well, if not peace, at least they took the edge off. Now, nothin' did and all I was thinkin' about was her. Not like that - get your minds outta the gutter. She was still a kid, huh? I kept thinkin' - is she OK? What if they come after her again? Does she need somethin', does she have enough stuff? I thought often about sendin' her somethin' from the road - money, clothes, whatever I came across that made me think of her, which was a lotta things - but Chuck always discouraged that when I called in. Chuck - to this day, he still ain't in favor of us bein' together. I think it's half - I ain't good enough for her, and half - he wanted me to want Jeannie. Which, I know, is a weird thing to say. But she's his favorite, his surrogate daughter, and what she wants, he wants. Ain't that he has anythin' against Scooter, necessarily. In fact, if he coulda picked a husband for Jeannie, it woulda been him. But in both of their heads, I was supposedta be the eternal scorned suitor for that woman, the always-rebuffed but never quite completely discouraged Other Man. Dunno why. Dunno where that model of a relationship comes from; you'd sure as hell think two 'doctors' would know better. I just know that I wasn't on board with that plan, although, things happened after I came back that - well, I'll get to that in a second. The point here is - bein' away from Marie was important, 'cause it showed me that I wanted her in my life, that I was connected to her no matter how far away I was from her. That's a big thing, and important thing for sure.

The next one is Jeannie-related, and it's one of those important things that's just plain bad and ain't never gonna get any better in hindsight. No, I didn't sleep with her, but not for lack of tryin' on my part. When I got back I thought - yeah, I've got this kid here, Marie, that I really wanna hang out with and look out for, and I've got this hot redhead that I'd really like to nail. Life is good. I wasn't thinkin' of Marie sexually back then, not really. I wanted Jeannie, and when I came back, I pursued her.

Marie didn't seem too damn upset by that, and I remember that as strikin' me strange at the time 'cause Jeannie had said that Marie had a crush on me. I guess I expected her to be jealous, at least some, and was surprised when she wasn't. Anyhow, I went after Jeannie and Marie lived her own life. I made sure to look out for her, to watch over her, and to spend a lotta time with her, but, if I'm honest with myself, nailin' Jeannie and the attendant benefit of gettin' one over on Scooter were at the top of my list.

Well, one day, I come across Jeannie in the kitchen. She was in her nightgown, which is sheer enough to show all of what God gave her, backlit by the mornin' sun as it was. I saw that and decided that today's the day - today, I'm gonna get her to get with me. I told her that she looks good, damn good, and I asked if I could eat that ice cream she's after offa her naked body. Jeannie, like always, didn't take it too seriously and went back to diggin' out some ice cream. I walked over and put a hand on her breast, gave it a nice hard squeeze. I could smell her want at that, and I thought - yep, I'm in, I got her.

It was a bad move. A very bad move. Made even worse by the fact that a sleepy Marie happened to be wanderin' by the kitchen at that moment and heard us. I heard a little gasp from somewhere outside the kitchen and before my brain could process that it's her, Marie, I felt Jeannie smackin' me across the cheek. Not too hard, mind ya, just hard enough to let me know she's Not That Kinda Girl even if her scent says just the opposite. I was still thinkin' 'bout the gasp, though, and when my eyes came up to look for the source of it, I saw Jeannie's lips frownin' but her eyes were sure as hell smilin'. That, right there, told me just 'bout everythin' I ever needed to know 'bout the woman. She said somethin' like 'go back to bed, Logan' - I never can really quite remember what the hell it was 'cause I was still thinkin' 'bout the gasp. I mumbled somethin' in response and went back out after Marie.

I finally found her in her room, and by this time, it seemed like nothin' was wrong, like she wasn't mad or jealous or anythin'. She was just sittin' on her bed, in her long nightgown, with her gloves on, watchin' the little TV I bought her as a housewarmin' present for when she got her own room. She smiled at me, and I remember thinkin' at that moment that, unlike every other female in my life so far, there was nothin' behind that smile - no machinations, no selfishness, nothin' but a plain old smile.

Well, I said to her - I didn't mean for you to see the thing with Jeannie. She just shrugged and the smile faltered a little, just a tiny bit. Never woulda seen it if I hadn't been lookin' for it, but by now I was, and right then and there I knew something was up. I said - don't be upset, we didn't do anythin'. She says she knows and that's not why she's upset. The smile disappeared, and I got this cold feelin' in my gut.

Marie huffed and fidgeted and squirmed a little, but finally, she turned her eyes on mine. I could tell she hadta screw her courage up to say whatever was about to come out, so I just kept my mouth shut and waited. Did you just wanna fuck her, Marie said, and she cringed when the words came out. I couldn't make anythin' come outta my mouth, so Marie blushed and looked down and shrugged some more and said, I thought you were in love with her.

There was this winsome tone in her voice when she said it and I still wasn't gettin' a goddamn thing to come outta my mouth. My heart felt tight and my stomach felt heavy and every other internal organ felt like somethin' was sittin' right on top of it. 'I guess - I guess I didn't think you were like that,' she said, and I finally, *finally* get my vocal cords to cooperate enough to stammer out that I'm not. She wasn't lookin' at me anymore by this point, but she whispered, 'But you kinda are,' and I could hear the disappointment all over her.

God, I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die right then and there. But no, it got worse. 'I guess I just thought you were in love with Jean.' The way she said that was almost like she wanted that to be true, but you could tell she wanted it to be true *for me* somehow, she wanted me to have that, to have what I wanted and to have it be love, be something good. By that time, dyin' on the spot - skip the hole - seemed like a pretty good option.

I couldn't come up with much more to say to Marie, so I just said things I don't even remember, things that weren't really talkin', just makin' noise, and I left. Took me a good year and then some after that to make things better with Marie. That, right there, me doin' that to Jeannie in the kitchen - well, that plus another royal fuck-up that was in the cards, but I'll get to that next - that, it almost ruined any shot I ever had with Marie. Not 'cause of jealousy, not 'cause of Marie's crush, not 'cause of anythin' like that - it was 'cause Marie thought I was a bad person 'cause of what I did, somethin' different than she usedta see me as, than she thought I really was. I almost lost the best thing in my life 'cause of the thing with Jeannie. Like I said, there just plain is no good there.

Well, after that, I got to thinkin', and the next important thing happened in pretty short order. Now, this was while Marie was still pretty put offa me, and I was schemin' like crazy to find some way to show her I wasn't just another asshole. I had tried just 'bout everythin' from buyin' her presents (which only seemed to convince her I was more of a jerk, even if she did try to smile and always said thank you) to tryin' to get her little girlfriends on my side, to even askin' Scooter to put in a good word on my behalf. Hell, I dunno *what* I was thinkin' there.

She was in her long nightgown, as usual, but no gloves. I came in, sat on the edge of her bed, and she put her gloves on. That gave me a bright idea. If I could just touch her, I thought, just a little, she might get my thoughts and feelin's and then I wouldn't have to go through the clumsiness of tryin' to tell her. It would come through right, it would come through pure. She'd always said she didn't mind it when we had touched, that she didn't mind gettin' me in her head, so I figured - hell, why not? This was before she ever told me 'bout Magneto and the whole 'mental rape' thing, and I didn't realize just what I was doin'. So I said - hey, Marie, take the gloves off, OK? She gave me one of those cute little smiles and took 'em off.

I grabbed her hand, quick, before she could stop me. Somethin' was wrong, I could tell that right away. It didn't hurt, not at all, and she wasn't gettin' my feelin's; I was gettin' hers. Believe me, it was a truckload of emotion. All these strong feelin's, bad feelin's 'bout me grabbin' her hand like that. It brought the whole Magneto thing back to her, bein' forced to touch like that, and even in the barrage of emotions that were really way too strong to identify and categorize, I felt her terror and disgust at me grabbin' her like that loud and clear. I dropped her hand, let go right away, but in my heart I knew it was already too late. I'd hurt her, bad, and I'd probably done a helluva lot better job at convincin' her that I'm some kinda selfish asshole than grabbin' Jeannie in the kitchen ever could.

I was just waitin' for her to yell or curse or swear but she was just starin' at me. Those big eyes were all confusion and hurt and betrayal - she mighta believed I'd grab Jeannie and say crude things, but she was just plain astonished that I was enough of a dickhead to purposely hurt her, and especially like that. I was kickin' myself so hard that I didn't notice the blood comin' outta her ears for a few seconds.

I think 'bout those seconds a lot; I wonder if she felt pain, you know, physical pain, and if she'd ever have had the headaches and problems that came later if I'd have been faster to realize it wasn't just an emotional hurt that I'd inflicted. Marie, now, she never talks about it, and if I ask she only says that she was in shock and don't remember it all too well. I hope like hell that's true.

Anyhow, I grabbed for her - careful to grab where she was covered, on her arms - right away and when her head just lolled back and her eyes closed and a big gush of more blood came, I picked her up and ran like hell to the medlab, screamin' for help the whole way down. Jeannie and Hank and even Chuck came down to try to help her. But in the end, none of 'em could do anythin' for her; they all said nothin' was really wrong, physically. The only abnormal thing was some damn high brain activity, but they had no clue what was causin' it or how to fix it or if that caused the bleedin'. God, how I swore at them that day, callin' 'em every name in the book and usin' every graphic threat I could come up with. I was really pissed at myself more than anyone, 'course, but I was more than happy to take it out on them.

After I got tired of yellin', 'bout twenty hours in or so, Hank came over to me and said he had a theory. He said that he thought she tried to make her skin go in reverse, tried to push herself out insteada takin' me in. He said that she coulda been scared enough to try it outta panic, that maybe it wasn't on purpose, her instincts to protect herself from further invasion - I remember he used that word, 'invasion' - just kicked in. Well, I punched him square in the nose, laid him out on the floor of the lab. To this day, I couldn't give ya a rational reason why; it was just a reaction. I wanted to punch myself but Hank was right there. I've apologized a helluva lot to big blue in the years after that. Bought him a helluva lotta scientific equipment too. Lemme tell ya somethin' - electron microscopes are fuckin' expensive.

Hank, once he regained consciousness, went on to say that if his theory was right, maybe she needed to 'discharge' or somethin'. I never have been too clear on the technical terms, but he thought that if she took too much in, then she needed to let some out or maybe suck another person in, he wasn't sure. I volunteered to touch her and get sucked in or dumped on or whatever she needed to do. They all looked at me like I was certifiable, but come on, I hurt her, I'm the one who should fix it. And maybe, just maybe, if I could save her life just this one more time, she wouldn't completely hate my ass forever. I'm not proud that I had those selfish thoughts at that moment, but they were in there; it's true. Mostly, though, and I mean as in 99.999999999% mostly, I wanted to save Marie. My mind couldn't even think 'bout losin' her, let alone havin' been the one that killed her. No way.

So, after another day or so of hemmin' and hawin' and Hank poundin' on a calculator, he said yeah, let's try that, and I head over to her bed. We made all of her little friends leave; it was just me and Marie and the docs - Jeannie, Hank, and Chuck. It was important to me that it be that way; if some serious shit went down, her little girlfriends don't need to see Marie die, and none of the other X-Men needed to see that either. Just the necessary personnel, and me and her.

It was enough. She sucked me in with a vengeance. It hurt a helluva lot more than it ever had before and it felt like I was on fire from the inside out. But I was determined to hang on, to stay conscious, until I could see it was workin'. After what seemed like forever, but what Jeannie keeps tellin' me was 'only 30 seconds at most, Logan,' Marie opens her eyes.

This is the most important part right here. Her eyes locked on mine for only a few moments, but in those moments, I could tell she was takin' me in. I could tell she was takin' me in and more importantly, that the good thoughts I'd tried to fill my head with were actually comin' through to her. Her expression went from the same shock and betrayal that was frozen there when she'd lost consciousness to somethin' like people look when they finally get a tough math problem or somethin', and then to forgiveness. And I could tell that's what it really was - forgiveness. It was plain as day on her.

I blacked out right after that, but I was told later that Marie scrambled outta bed and cried over me until Hank and Jeannie pulled her off and made her get checked out. It's not like I like that - I hate seein' Marie hurtin', period. But it told me that she did still give a shit 'bout me, that the forgiveness I saw was just the beginning, a foundation, not a parting gift. That day was fulla good and bad things, and I'm grateful that Marie lived through it. But if I had my choice, I'd have made it so it never happened at all.

The next important thing was when I almost lost Marie, but in a totally different way. See, she was in college and had this art professor that she really liked and that took a likin' to her. Well, that was all well and good at first, but then the guy started makin' moves on her. Much to my surprise, Marie was takin' the guy seriously, thinkin' 'bout explorin' a relationship with him once the class was over. Now, I knew I'd fucked up with her, and badly, and I knew I didn't have any claim on her. I really, really did know those things. But I just went fuckin' nuts over it 'cause I could see what the guy was doin', what he was up to, and she just couldn't see it. Here she is, all sincere and trustin' and here comes this schmuck, playin' on that.

I let Marie know how I felt. Things were OK enough between us after everythin' that had happened for me to do that. I mean, we hung out together, spent time together, talked. We were gettin' close again, and I think she was happy with that, I think things were goin' OK at that point. When I told her, she thought 'bout it, and she told me she'd rather make her own mistakes and that she needed to try with someone, needed to see if she could open up to someone. God, how I wanted to say do that with me, Marie, but I knew I couldn't. I knew I didn't have that right, not yet, and maybe not ever. So I said OK and she waited the end of the semester out before datin' this guy.

Well, two weeks in, I'm startin' to think I fucked up yet again; the guy's bein' real nice to Marie, very patient with her, and she seems happy, really happy. But then in week three, she starts comin' home from their evenin' dates together with a sad frown on her face and heavin' out these big sighs. I tried talkin' to her 'bout it, but she didn't wanna talk 'bout it with me. She told me later 'cause she was afraid I'd gloat over bein' right 'bout the guy, or get mad 'bout what he was doin', and even though she'd understand those reactions, that wasn't what she needed then. She's a smart girl, my Marie. Anyhow, three weeks in, I can tell he's fuckin' up, so I pay him a little nocturnal visit.

You'd be surprised by how agreeable people can be when you wake 'em up at 4 in the mornin'. 'Course, the fact that you're holdin' a big knife (OK, claw, actually, but my mask and gloves hid the claws and my identity pretty damn well) against their throat helps. I told him that I was watchin' him and that if he tried any rough stuff or anythin' even a little bit outta line, he was gonna lose the little professor, if you get my drift. I told him that the girl he was seein' wasn't some naive kid, all alone in the world who didn't have anyone to watch her back. I told him that she had lotsa friends, powerful friends, ones who had no compunction 'bout takin' any body part they saw fit plus ruinin' his job and reputation besides. I think he pissed the bed, but I didn't hang out to be sure.

He musta said somethin' to her 'cause just like clockwork, next night she comes over. She was real tense, *real* tense. She says that I shouldnta done that, and that if I ever did it again, she wasn't sure how she'd forgive me for it. That got my attention, I don't mind tellin' ya. But then she broke down cryin', and I know her, she don't cry unless she's pretty damn upset. I didn't think what I did coulda upset her *that* much, but what the hell do I know? I started apologizin', you know, for that, and for before, and for all the bad stuff since I met her, but somewhere in the middle of all that she says no, it's not 'cause of me that she's cryin'.

Turns out that the guy tells her that he only had a fuck in mind and, Christ, she's not worth all this trouble. Well, I never told Marie, but that earned the guy not only an ass-kickin' by yours truly, but a letter to the provost spillin' the beans on his serial affairs with his students. Buh-bye, art guy. All Marie knows is that he resigned and went somewhere else, and that's just as well.

But back to Marie cryin' - it wasn't just that, oh no, she launched inta all the other things he'd said in the last week or so - little cuts, little digs, nothin' too bad on their own but dig after dig, and it gets pretty clear that he was tryin' to break her down, make her feel bad 'bout holdin' back the sex stuff, makin' her feel like a freak 'cause of her skin. Well, no one messes with my girl. I've never had a moment of regret 'bout that ass-kickin' and if I ever see him again, he's gonna get another.

I let Marie cry it all out and I kissed her, just once, on toppa her head. I said that those things he said were all just bullshit, that he was an asshole, and that she was better off rid of him. I told her she deserved someone special, someone who'd appreciate her, not just the first guy that came along. I knew there'd be lotsa guys; if I had my way, I'd be first in line. She didn't say much to that. I don't think she believed me at the time, but she says now that what I said made her feel a lot better.

I look back on it and think - what if her first guy hadn't been such a dickhead? I mighta lost her to whoever came along at that time in her life. Things between her and me were gettin' better, but we weren't ready to be together yet, at least Marie wasn't. I coulda become just some guy in her life - someone she was real close to, yeah, but just one of the many guys in her life that she cared about. I didn't want that, and by this time, I sure as hell realized that. I wanted to be her lover, and I mean her *lover*. I wanted to be the one that she loved and the one to love her.

Right after the whole thing with the Art Guy, Marie spent a lotta time alone, just to herself. I didn't worry too much about that bein' a sign of her bein' depressed; both me and her have always been people who needed a certain amount of solitude and who liked our own company. But after a month had gone by, I was gettin' a little worried.

I went to her room and knocked. She said to come in, and there she was, sittin' on the bed, lookin' just fine. Not sad, not depressed, nothin' like that. She did look like she'd been thinkin', though, so I asked her what about. She said us, and then I knew - she was either gonna tell me no way or let's give this you and me thing a go.

It was the latter, and I'm actually kinda glad that she took so long to think 'bout it. She told me she loved me that day, but she also said that she had reservations. She said that she was worried about the sex thing, and not just the part of it that involved bein' careful of her skin. She said she wondered how I'd be with her, and that she was worried that she wouldn't be important to me anymore after we did it.

That's the word that caught my attention - 'important'. I told her that she would always be that to me - hell, she was pretty much the center of my universe, always had been since the day I met her. I know she wasn't too sure about believin' me then, but now she says she mostly did. I think it was what I said next that sealed the deal - I said, look, Marie, we don't hafta do the sex thing right away. That's on your timetable. I ain't gonna corner you in the kitchen or ever - *ever* - lay a hand on you unless you say it's OK, ever again. That did it. She said OK.

Long story short, many months later, she looks up at me while we're on a walk 'round the far lake. We were talkin', all about somethin', I don't remember what. She stops right in the middle of the trail, takes my hand in hers. We both wore gloves all the time, by then. We kinda hadta, and I wanted to be especially sure that she didn't get my skin by accident. Well, she takes my hand in hers and slowly strips off the glove. Then she looks at it a second, then up at me, then back at my hand. I had no idea what was goin' on, but somethin' made me say to her - go ahead, Marie.

She touched my hand to her face. I still can remember the exact spot. It was the back on my right hand, just below the middle two knuckles, right where the claws are. On her face, it was right in the middle of her left cheekbone. I remember the exact spots very well. When my skin touched hers, I felt a little twinge, but then nothin'. This big smile spread all across her face, and I could tell she was pullin' from me, but just a little, and that it was good. I smiled too, then.

The last important thing, well, that one's kinda anti-climactic. What's better than bein' in love with the person you most wanted to love you back? There was one more important thing, though, and it kinda caught me by surprise. It happened not too long ago, right here in our very own bathroom. Marie was shufflin' around - it's a real little space and when we're both in there, it's plenty tight. Well, she was shufflin' 'round and doin' this and doin' that - you know, girl things. She had some hot hair contraption in her hand and she was trying to curl her hair with it when I bumped her, accidentally, as I got outta the shower.

She yiped and dropped the thing like - well, like a hot curling thing. She'd burned herself pretty good, actually, but just as she was turnin' around to get her hand in the sink and put it under cold water, it began changin', healin' over. In just a few seconds, it was completely healed. We both just watched it happen, totally speechless. Finally, she looked over at me, her mouth hangin' open. All I could say was - let's go see Hank.

He thinks the multiple absorptions have given her my powers for good. Jeannie thinks that it was somethin' 'bout her both suckin' me in and puttin' herself inta me. Chuck says it may be an advanced form of mutation that Marie has that allows her to incorporate other beneficial mutations. I dunno, and I honestly don't really care. She's got my healin', but not my claws, and that's some kinda miracle, no matter what the scientific explanation might be. I will always be forever grateful for whatever force of nature or act of God did that for her. We still can't touch without one of us goin' inta the other, but at least I know that, whatever happens, Marie's gonna live a helluva long life, and the healin' will protect her from injury and accident much better than I could ever hope to. She's gonna be with me a long time, and I can't think of a single thing more important than that.