“I’ll take care of you.”

Even 5 years later those words still ring in her ears. The fateful words that she knew wouldn’t hold, because half of him was the Wolverine, and how can you take care of someone when you’re not there? For he would run eventually, would it be a week, a month, or a year from then. The Wolverine couldn’t care for anything besides himself and his mate, for that was the way of the wild things, and the wild things are always more powerful than man.

And he did run, giving her what others would call a tie to his heart, but what they both knew was just a lie to keep a love-sick girl from wasting away. So she buried her feelings, and went on with her life, hooking up with Bobby and trying to act like a kid, even though she felt 17 going on 100.

But he came back after six months, much to her surprise. And she knew that it wasn’t because of the piece of un-touchable crowbait that held his tags. No, it was because of Jean, who held the man’s heart and, by default, must have been held as the Wolverine's mate. And when Jean and Storm came down the stairs, he forgot about her, proving the theory.

But when Jean died the man grieved, but he stayed. This confused her, because the man in her head told her that the Wolverine would have ran long and hard and fast if his mate had died. So she figured that her initial thought was wrong, and only the man cared about Jean, and the Wolverine had another mate in mind. The long buried feelings popped up again, and they were much harder to erase than a year earlier, because they were real and not half hero worship. But she went on with life, living like she always did: one day at a time.

Three months later, though, her world started to crumble around her. The cure was released, Bobby’s feelings for Kitty showed through, Jean came back, and Scott and the Professor died. With them, went her hope. Her hope of ever controlling her power, her hope of ever being able to touch, and her hope of ever being normal. So when she went to take the cure, she was desperately trying to convince herself that it was for herself, not for a boy with blue eyes and cold skin, or for a man with metal claws and sideburns. With the injection the voices were silenced completely, and her head felt empty without them.

Life was made up of cruel twists, and the man must be a magnet for them. Ironically, it was the man who killed Jean, despite the fact that he should have been to weak-willed to do it. If the Wolverine had killed her, she would be dead very much different than a thrust to the heart. He would have killed her like all predators did: a cut to the hamstring and a slash at the throat.

Once back, life progressed in strange stops and starts. Bobby broke up with her a week after she got back, and what felt like a lifetime later-but was really only two or three weeks-her powers came back, but with it came control. The Wolverine claimed her as his mate and the man his girl two months after that, but it had felt like only a day.

And now, 3 years later, as she fondles the dogtags that started it all, she has to wonder about why the Wolverine does things. There’s not doubt that Logan loved her, but what about the Wolverine? No one could fathom for what reason the wild things did what they did, but she can’t help speculating. Why did the Wolverine choose her? Why didn’t the Wolverine make that man leaver her in the snow? Why does the Wolverine do anything? For the Wolverine wasn’t one who she could absorb. The Wolverine was as free as the wind, and not even her life-sucking abilities could capture him. Logan was man, and man was never free.

A pair of lips touched her shoulder-blades, breaking her concentration. They moved up, performing its light admistrations as it went, until they were sucking at where her neck met shoulder

“Care to tell me what you were thinking?” A rough voice murmured. Rogue shifted, until she was meeting the hazel eyes of her lover.

“Nothing in particular,” she answered, snuggling closer into his body heat. He tilted her chin to get a good look at her face, his nostrils flaring slightly. He nodded to himself, and let go of her chin.

“He’s always in here you know,” he told her as she settled back into his chest, his arms winding around her. “He wants out, wants to be let free. But when he sees you, he seems…satisfied, I guess would be the word. And the only thing I get from him is ‘mine.’ Probably the one thing we agree on. But you’re not his. You’re mine.” The last part was punctuated by a growl, and his arms tightened possessively.

“And you’re both mine,” she agreed, smiling to herself. Her hand started to play with the hair on his chest, and Logan purred, a low rumble that made her so deliciously aroused.

Maybe the man was closer to the beast than she thought. After all, when the wild things stay in contact with man long enough, some of it has to seep in.