Looking into the sky, he watched plane after plane appear and disappear through the clouds. The loud booming noises they heard from behind them were immediately followed by large waves, which rocked the flatbed's they were in. Dropping his head and letting his eyes wander about the men in front of him, he couldn't help but curl his lip in disgust. He could smell the fear on them, as well as the seasickness. As if to prove this, a man not far from him grabbed his stomach and arched over, throwing up all over the bottom of the transport they were in. The smell was bad, but even worse for a guy with heightened senses. Cursing his luck, he pulled a canteen loose from his belt and worked quickly to remove the cap. The ships behind him fired again at the shore, and again the waves came, this time spilling over the sides and getting all present soaked. He felt the water soak in through his uniform, just as he felt it sink into his boots and create the ever annoying squish noises when he shifted from foot to foot.

The weather was bad that day. The skies were gray, casting a gloomy shadow over everything the eye could see. The storm two days prior had already postponed the invasion, and just then he realized he was grateful. The conditions were bad enough now, what with the crisp, cold wind breezing in and the constant spray of mist from the Channel beneath them. Rain, thunder, and stronger winds would only have set them more off course. Not to mention, it would have thrown all these men straight out of boot camp into chaos. They did their best to train them for what was to come, but they couldn't cover everything. Wolverine glanced again from man to man, and mentally shook his head. Kids. No more than twenty years old. They've still got their whole lives ahead of them. He'd seen more in the last year than he wanted anyone to have to see in three lifetimes.

A loud shout snapped him out of his thoughts. It was almost time. These boys were about to be flung into reality faster than they realized. Looking from face to face, he noticed how much each of them had changed. Bobby Drake had entered into the army, head strong and all talk. He had too much confidence about him...made him an easy target for a quick let down. He remembered the first time he saw him, when Wolverine was called to talk to his platoon personally for the first time. The kid couldn't even keep a smile off his lips for more than three seconds. Now, it seemed as though he couldn't even force one onto his lips. He was ashen, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, due to the anticipation of battle. "You got a girl back home, waiting for you, kid?"

"Y-Yes sir, I do..."

"Same for everyone else?" He watched carefully as a few nodded, and some just shrugged their shoulders. "Each an' every one of you's got someone back in the good ol' US of A waitin' for you to drag your sorry butt home. Well, bein' in charge of you, makes me feel all responsible like. So just stick with me an' don't screw around. The fewer the mistakes made here, the fewer the letters I gotta send home to your mommas. Is that clear?" So it wasn't a true blue American pep talk. He had thirty seconds to compose it, he was surprised he got that much out. As if to remind him how little time he had, the same gruff, loud, commanding voice from before broke the silence with his deafening call, "Drop 'em!" A minute later the front ends of the transport dropped, and, simultaneously, the Germans began to fire. Wolverine was the last off, shoving everyone in front of him in. "Go go go!" Calls and commands and cries of pain filled the air, and was almost too much for him. It pierced straight through his ears and caused an instant headache. The ice cold of the water didn't help any, shooting up and down his spine and threatening to make it go numb.

All around them, men were floundering, arms waving in panic as they began to sink due to the heavy materials they carried. He made his way around, avoiding bullets and pulling men free of their bondage. His eyes were constantly being filled with water, causing them to sting and water so much he could barely see. The smoke from all the ships' firing and the airplanes' recent bombings created a thick wall, just barely transparent. His eyes scanned the water as he waded into shore, looking for the members of his platoon. He caught sight of most of them, already on shore, cowering and ducking behind anything that would protect them from the steady flow of gunfire from above the cliff. Glancing upward, he caught sight of a row of Germans, firing away at his fellow Americans with machine guns and rifles and anything else they'd gotten their dirty little hands on. The scene on the shore was absolute turmoil. The stench of death and blood filled his nostrils as he moved in beside Scott Summers.

Everywhere he looked, men were falling, clutching different body parts and crying out for someone to help them. Blood seemed to stain the sand, as well as the water drifting inland. It all crawled by in a cruel, slow motion. Mouths were moving, yet the words couldn't be made out. Some men were seen, grabbing for parts of their body that were no longer connected. One man was walking about the corpses of his fellow friends and troops, searching for something, or so it seemed. Perhaps it was the shock at seeing all these men dying so quickly that made Wolverine actually chuckle when he pulled out from a pile of debris and already stinking corpses, his left arm, which had been reduced to no more than a stub by a strategically planted land mine. "Now what, Wolverine?" The shouted question, directed at himself, shook him from the slow motion and brought him back to the fast paced reality before him. Men were scrambling to stay alive, and overall you could still hear the cry for a medic.

"Sir! You've got to move your men off this beach! We need to get rid of this trash and make room for the tanks!" The pressure of taking charge made his heart pump, and, no matter how awful war was, no matter how many people around him were no more than pieces of the men they used to be, it was a rush. The high that situations like this produced surged through him and gave him a sense of pleasure he'd never felt before. This was what he was made for; quick decisions, tight situations, war. And if you asked him, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Listen up! We need to make our way up this beach!"

"I can't do it, Sergeant sir! I can't go!" He turned to see John Allerdyce just behind him. He was clutching his gun so tightly his knuckles were white, and his whole body was trembling. The look in his eyes was not one that was new to Wolverine, though he hated to see it already instilled in someone so young.

"Sorry kid, but you gotta. No one wins a war by stayin' put an' bein' a coward! Now either you go willingly, or I'll drag your sorry a-" A round of ammunition began just then, not only cutting off his words but striking him in the shoulder as well. It hurt only for a moment, and then the stinging sensation died away, just like the shooting had. Once it was a little quieter in their end, he tried again. "All right! You see that ledge up there? You use anything and everything you've got to make it there! Stay low to the ground," he paused, when he noticed one of his men, Remy Lebeau, just in from the French resistance there in Normandy, pulling his helmet off and looking inside. Grabbing the helmet from his hands, he hit him upside the head with it and tossed it back at him. "And for Godsake, keep your helmets on! It's the only thing you've got, besides your thick skulls. Well! You've got your orders, what are you waiting around for? Move it move it move it!" While his men hurried to find cover from the ever raining gunfire, Wolverine moved in a zig zag formation, stopping now and again at different corpses to relieve them of their ammunition. He had a feeling the back up troops wouldn't be there to relieve them for some time. Meanwhile, they'll need to defend themselves.

Making it at last to the protective ledge just below the German forces, Wolverine pulled the plastic off one of the guns and began to load it. "Wolverine, sir...you're injured!" Bobby was staring, wide-eyed, at Wolverine's sleeve, which was stained with bright red blood. Shifting slightly and glancing momentarily in the same direction, Wolverine replied by cracking his neck and shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"It ain't my blood." The kid seemed happy to accept that explanation, and the battle continued. The first wave didn't survive well against the German attack. Looking down the line, Wolverine realized, hardly surprised, that many of their men didn't make it past the shore of Normandy beach. Taking this beach without reinforcements was going to be difficult at the very least. They had to dismantle the groups of Germans who'd set themselves into the stone ledge. With that completed, it was only a matter of defeating a few individual soldiers before they could take over the base and declare Normandy defeated. Somehow, it always managed to sound easier when you were just starting out, and when the idea was being played out only in your mind. He wouldn't risk a single man from his platoon, not if it wasn't necessary. "We need to make a trench fifteen feet away from here!" Pointing to one man at a time, Wolverine found himself taking charge and commanding each person bring him a necessary piece of equipment. He sent two out for the same item, in case one didn't make it back. That was the case in only one instance, luckily. "Drake! What're you, too busy wettin' your pants? Get that tubing over here! Allerdyce! We need firepower over here now!" Setting the desired weapon into the tubing, John Allerdyce quickly pulled a cigarette from his lips and held it up to the wick. It caught on fire rather quickly, sending a small spark of fire down the wick, and the others holding the tube quickly sent it along it's way. "Fire in the hole!" Wolverine ducked, covering his head against any possible flying shrapnel. The others followed his example, and, a moment later, sand and rocks were falling all around them. When it settled, Wolverine was the first to raise his head. He looked over the side enough to see that their plan had worked. They'd hollowed out a hole large enough for them to fit into. "All right you Mommas' Boys, listen up! I want you in groups of two! Stay low, and get in there!"

The moments seemed to tick on forever, when in reality, it hadn't been more than a minute since they'd hollowed out the trench. "Gambit, over here!" Grabbing hold of the boy's shoulder he pulled him close and jabbed a finger in the direction of the ledge where the Germans were still firing away at what was left of the first wave. All Wolverine cared about was that nine of his thirteen men were present and accounted for. "You think you can get them?" The boy followed his gaze and squinted, shifting slightly and cocking his head.

"Not from here..." His eyes scanned over the area around them and found a crevice inside the ledge. "Dere." He made no move, other than the slight nod of his head in that direction. Wolverine never moved his head, but got a good look at the area through the corner of his eye.

"Good. They haven't spotted our trench yet. We'll give you enough cover fire to get over there. You pick 'em off, one by one. We'll see to it any strays stay put. Permanently. Now, wait for my orders before goin', you got that?"

"Yes sir!" Nodding in approval, Wolverine moved back to where he'd left his weapons and made sure his first gun choice was well loaded. "Platoon ready? Cover fire!" All nine of them, Wolverine included, aimed for the small opening in the ledge, which was their intended target. Firing away, the Germans had to pay too much attention to them to notice Gambit creeping along the ground and sneaking into the crevice. No one moved their heads in his direction, lest they want to give away his position. Many held their breaths, Wolverine included, and waited for the fateful sound of his sniper gun taking down German soldier after German soldier. They watched one crumble, then another. The third fell forward, out the opening and down the cliff. Bobby and John made sure that he wouldn't be getting up again, let alone pulling another trigger.

When no more noise came from the area, Wolverine found it safe to assume all the Germans inside were dead. He ordered his men to slowly leave the trench and move their way up the ledge. On the other side, he knew, was a small fort. There would be individual soldiers, but most were along the ledge, manning all the weapons, fighting the British and Canadians up a few hundred miles. His men all moved forward, just as he ordered, and soon were at the top of the wall. By then, the others waiting below had realized there was a breech in the German wall, and quickly made their way up to join them. Wolverine spotted a fellow sergeant and moved down the cliff to speak to him about his plan. The last thing he remembered was seeing the man give a short wave and reach a hand out to pat his back. The next moment he heard a screeching noise, and saw a flash of light. Heat encompassed his body, and then all went black.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. The second, the undeniable fact that he was in an infirmary of some kind. He knew that because the god awful stench of medicines and latex filled his nose, causing him to cringe in disgust. Opening his eyes, after a few moments of coaxing, he looked around to see if he could recognize exactly where he was. It was old...there were cobwebs in all the corners. Long rows of cots filled with groaning, moaning men filled the room he was in. It reminded him of a church. Glancing at the walls and spotting windows with partial pieces of stained glass still intact proved his theory true. Most of the windows, however, had to be boarded up to keep the cold air out. There was a large fire place on both ends of the room, adding a little bit of heat to the otherwise damp, chilly building.

Wolverine sat up slowly, a slight dizzying sensation filling his head and causing him trouble. He held his head tightly, and closed his eyes a moment to let the feeling pass. Once it did, he continued his study of the room. A nurse had entered just then, and boy was she a sight! He remembered hearing about women who came here to help injured men in the war. They were given regulation uniforms that were obviously created by men, since the skirts were just a little too high and the tops just a little too low. He figured it was to keep the guys' spirits up, even if their outlook was bad. "She's pretty, ain't she?" His head turned sharply to the left, toward the person who interrupted his study. He was face to face with an equally pretty girl, who was kneeling beside his cot, balancing a tray on her knee. Long, auburn locks were covered by a white nurse's hat, but a shock of white hair fell out from it's hold and dangled in front of her large green eyes. "Her name's Jean..." While she talked, she carefully helped him to lay back down. "All the men around here ask for her...but she'll usually only go to the dyin' ones." Peeling away his old bandages, she couldn't hide the look of surprise that suddenly crossed her face.

"What?" He hadn't meant to sound so gruff...but a few years in the army will do that to you. You're trained to yell, trained to be mean, and trained to be merciless. No where did you learn how to act around women. He reminded himself to watch his tongue from now on.

"Ah guess you're outta luck."

"How's that?"

"With Jean. Looks to me like you'll be back up in no time." Still, despite her cheerfulness, a concerned look passed over her brow as she continued removing his bandages.

"What?"

"Can't you do anythin' else 'sides ask questions? Relax...this is like a time off for you." She cautiously ran her fingertips over his ribs and down across his stomach. "Does that hurt?"

"No, but it tickles, so watch it!" She laughed, despite his rough warning, and continued her search along his skin for any of the burn marks she'd seen just the day before. "So..." He was feeling a little uncomfortable, what with this strange woman touching him like that. He wasn't like the other army men. When they got their leave and went into town, they went to meet women. He went to get a good beer and a quiet table in the back where he could smoke a cigar in peace. "You told me her name, but you didn't tell me yours." Her laugh was euphonious, especially in comparison to the cries of pain that'd been ringing in his ear ever since they landed on Normandy. And she wasn't so bad to look at either. Course she probably didn't have the killer legs Jean did, but he wasn't here for that sort of thing anyway.

"That's right...Ah didn't. You c'n call me...well...whatever you like. Nurse is preferable...we aren't supposed to give out our names, aftah all."

"I won't tell if you don't." This wasn't like him at all. Suddenly he realized, he must have been on some kind of medication. Maybe it was best to find out what exactly had happened... "So, Nurse," she laughed again, and it almost brought a smile to his face. Almost. "What happened to me?"

"Well...from what Ah remember bein' told..." She paused a moment to think things through. She didn't want to give him false details, after all. "You were just about to claim Normandy." The moment she mentioned it, it came rushing back to him. He'd sent the boys ahead and had turned to another sergeant and said...but wait...

"I remember that...but...what was the flash?" He noticed her turn away a moment to look down the row a little ways. He followed her eyes and his own landed upon two men, bandaged from head to toe, moaning and shifting as though nothing they did could provide comfort.

"Someone set off a mine as they were coming up the cliff..."

"Damn Germans-" He paused, suddenly, as though he remembered something. Glancing back around the room quickly, he let his eyes fall back on his Nurse. "Darn Germans had that beach crawling with different kinds of mines..."

"So Ah heard...Those men down there were as close as you were to the mine when it went off. Can you understand mah surprise now? Look at 'em...they're covered from head to toe in bandages...an' you...you haven't got a scratch on you..."

"Just lucky I guess." He turned away, not meeting her eyes anymore. He knew what she was thinking. Monster. Freak. Mutie.

"You're a mutant, aren't you?" She said the words low, quietly, not risking anyone else hearing her.

"You gotta problem with that? Not gonna treat me anymore?"

"Those're your words an' ideas, not mine, Sugah. Ah'm not afraid of treatin' you. Ah'm just...Ah..." She sighed, having a rather hard time finding her words. "Others might not feel tha same...look...Ah'm just sayin', there are two other men here who are gonna die, who weren't any different from you 24 hours ago. People are gonna start askin' questions if you are healed so quickly. Ah figure...Ah'll just wrap you back up an' let you rest. Aftah a few days, you can get outta here, an' return to the war. Ah'll jus' tell them all that you went home."

"What's in it for you?" Wolverine's eyes were narrowed in suspicion as he watched her pull out her gauze and other bandages and begin to wrap him back up, starting at his waist and moving upward.

"Why...tha pleasure of your oh-so-sweet company for tha next few days."

"About that...the attitude I mean...I didn't mean ta be so..."

"No need to explain, sergeant, sir! Mah daddy is an army officer. Ah'm used to it."

"Your father's in the army?" At her nod, he frowned a moment, trying to think of anyone who might have mentioned having a daughter. "Who is he?" Picking up her tray, the nurse stood to her feet, smiling down at him,

"If Ah told you, Ah'd have to kill you. An' Ah'm guessin' that's a pretty hard task. Now, get some rest. Ah'll be back to check on you in tha mornin'." Turning slowly, she walked in the opposite direction of his bed. He felt a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he shook his head. She certainly was a piece of work. Well, if there was one thing she said that he could listen to, it was her suggestion to rest. It'd been months, maybe even a full year, since he'd had anything remotely resembling a bed, and he wasn't one to miss out on an opportunity like this. Shifting slightly and pulling his blanket up over himself, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

It wasn't nearly so bright as it was the last time he'd opened his eyes. It was still drafty, but a faint heat passed over him. It was dark outside, judging by the fact that no light was filtering in through the cracks in the boards covering the window. Many of the other men were asleep. Wolverine glanced right and saw Jean sitting between the two men who had been injured in the same accident as he. He almost wished then, looking upon them, hearing their pained cries, that he hadn't gotten lucky with his healing factor. He'd never earn a medal for bravery and honor because he died in battle. How can he even return to the war, now that he was a part of this accident? The other two men were going to die because of it, there was no doubt there. How would it look if he returned, not even a scar on him?

"It's a known fact that if you think too hard your eyes'll cross an' you'll be stuck that way forever." He wasn't sure why, but for some reason, Wolverine was comforted by the sound of her voice. He'd dreampt about her earlier that day...he was on the battle field, wounded, in dire need of assistance, and it was she, and not Jean, who came to his aide. Of course, he'd never tell her that. What good would it do? Besides, even he didn't believe in it. He blamed it on the medication. "Could you imagine facin' tha Germans cross-eyed?" Setting a tray down on the table, (a tray which, he could not entirely disregard, was covered with food.) she held up her arms like she was holding a gun, then crossed her eyes and staggered about some. "Ah'll get you! Jus...Jus come into focus first..." Hearing him chuckle made her break into a smile, and Wolverine had to admit, it did her justice. She was beautiful. "But enough of that! Ah brought you some dinner. Thought you might be hungry..." He didn't even try to hide the needy look that must have passed over his face just then. "Of course...if not...Ah did skip dinner today..."

"I skipped dinner the past week, if I remember correctly." To his surprise, she seemed to ponder his rebuttal a moment or two. He was sure there was no way she could defend that remark.

"Well. You've got me there." A moment later, she carefully wrapped a hand around his arm, as though he really had burns there. He couldn't help but notice she had on a pair of gloves still.

"Isn't this your break?"

"Yeah, so?"

"What's with the gloves?" Her face seemed to pale, but then again, it could have been the lighting, since the room was only being lit by a candle beside each bed.

"Oh that..." She got him into a comfortable sitting position and slide the tray over his lap. "Old habit Ah guess...sometimes y'never know when they'll come with more casualties..." She watched him eat a moment, before standing to her feet. "Are you a card player?"

"What kind of sergeant would I be if I wasn't?"

"You promise not to cheat?"

"What kind of man would I be if I promised that?" There's the smile again, the one he'd been aiming for.

"Ah'll get tha cards."

"Ah'll be waitin' right here." She shot him a fake glare before turning around and walking out of the room. Content with himself and actually somewhere close to happy for the first time in a long time, he concentrated on eating the soup that was provided for him, and waited for her to come back.

She finally did, gloves removed and in her pocket. She stopped beside each bed, asking each man if he was all right, and if he needed anything. Most said "no," and she was able to move down the line rather quickly. The trouble began, when she was with the man right beside Wolverine. She'd turned to go, when suddenly, the man reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. She cried out in surprise and tried to pull away, but he had a rather tight grip. At last she pulled away, holding her head, looking absolutely horrified.

Wolverine sat up more, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the man. The man had collapsed against his pillow, gasping for air. She, in turn, took one look, and ran out of the room. The faint sound of footsteps on stairs was heard, but only in Wolverine's ear. He wanted to go to her, but he knew he couldn't. Besides, he was too curious as to what had happened to the man.

A tall, lanky man rushed out from behind a door, two nurses scurrying to keep up with him. His brown locks were parted down the side, and flipped over toward his right eye. He had glasses on, which was nothing out of the ordinary, considering he was a doctor. Most doctors Wolverine knew had glasses. He also had a large, white overcoat pulled on over regular clothes, each pocket seemingly overflowing with paper, pens, and other useful and essential equipment. Wolverine faintly heard the man mutter, "Not again..." before stooping beside the man and slipping a respirator over his nose and mouth. One of the nurses patted the soldier's hand, while the other pulled a jacket on and went in the direction Wolverine's nurse had run. The nurse beside the man, he noticed, was Jean. She glanced up at the moment he looked her way, and quickly frowned. The next instant, she moved around the bed and pulled the covering around it, blocking Wolverine from seeing any more of the scene. He frowned a little, and looked down at his tray of food. It would be cold by now, but it was still ten times better than the warm stuff they had on the front. Picking up his spoon, he began to shovel the food into his mouth at an alarming rate. He never realized how good real food was...not until he'' been deprived of it for months. He'd just finished eating when his nurse re-entered. She was visibly shaken, and he watched her, hoping she'd come over and give him some sort of explanation. At last she came over, and bent to pick up his food tray before turning to go. "Hey, wait a second. What was that all about?"

"Ah...Ah'm not sure...Ah think they said he had a sudden heart attack..."

"You're lyin'. What really happened?"

"Ah have a lot of work to do...we just got a call that three more truck loads are coming in with casualties..." She was slowly relaxing, and he noticed she had pulled her gloves on again. Seeing the doctor Wolverine had watched before, she stiffened and paled slightly.

"Sit down."

"Ah'm sorry...but...whether you think it or not...you are not mah only patient."

"You promised me a game of cards." He knew he shouldn't be hassling her, especially since his injuries were only fabricated.

Impatience always got the best of him though, and pretty soon a scowl passed over his face as she turned and left. He knew he wouldn't see her again that night, at least, not face to face. She had her work to do, and for now, he supposed he'd have to let her do it. Tomorrow, though, he was going to get some answers out of her.

The next day he awoke to more sounds of misery. He had to hold his head against the throbbing all the noises were causing. Opening his eyes only brought on a burst of bright light, as well as a shock that made the headache increase. He tried again, this time gradually opening them. The place was a mad house...nurses everywhere. The night before, almost all beds across the way from him had been empty. Now, they were all filled with bloody, screaming men, and even more had been squeezed in to hold more men. He looked over the men, or what was left of them, and tried to see if any of them came from his platoon. He was almost able to sit back in relief, until he spotted one three beds down from his own. John Allerdyce. His heart fell in concern, and he turned quickly, scanning the room for his nurse. Dammit! What was her name? She'd never told him, had she? Where was she! None of the other nurses would tell him anything about the other patients. It went against the policy. But his own nurse wasn't afraid of that, she told him about anyone and everyone.

At last he spotted her, coming in his direction. "Hey! You!"

"Tha only thing worse than bein' called "hey you!" is "woman!" Ah should just give you mah name."

"Quit foolin' around an' listen to me!" She didn't flinch at his nasty response, but instead raised an eyebrow and looked at him. He was troubled. His brow was wrinkled and there was a great deal of emotion being held back behind his dark blue eyes. "What happened to that kid?" He jerked his head sharply to his left, and she followed it, looking.

"You mean that boy there?"

"Who the hell else would I mean?" She bit her lip to keep from laughing. He really was amusing when he was upset.

"He was involved in an ambush. His group was misinformed. He has multiple gunshot wounds, not to mention bayonet wounds on top of that. Ah hate to admit it, but he's not goin' to last all that much longer...we've done all we can, an' nothin' is workin'." She watched his face fall and his head sag slightly. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"He was in my platoon...when we first stormed that Normandy beach..." He rubbed his forehead, and she frowned more to see how troubled he was.

"Let me get you somethin' for your pain..."

"No!" He reached out to grab hold of her arm, but she pulled it away, in reaction. "Look...just...can you get me over there?"

"You're not supposed to get outta bed..."

"You're not supposed to bring me beer either, yet lo and behold, that's just what I found this morning with my breakfast."

"It was wine. And it was to ease your suffering."

"Yeah right, seeing as how much I'm suffering, considering I don't have any wounds!"

"All right! Just shut your mouth already, will ya?" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, looking back and forth and trying to think of what to do next. Moving over to the table beside his bed, she grabbed hold of his shirt and tossed it to him. "Pull that on. Ah'll be right back." She moved away quickly, and headed into the back room to get a wheelchair.

He was frantic, due to his impatience, and would have paced, if he weren't stuck in bed. What was taking her so long? At last she came back, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. She pulled it up beside his bed and made a real big show out of helping him into it. "You blow this act, tell tha world you ain' hurt, an' we're both in a lot of trouble." She unfolded the extra blankets she'd brought and draped one around his shoulders and the other over his legs. Quietly, she pushed him three beds down. "Hey there handsome...Ah brought you a visitor..."

"What...?" He turned slowly, then broke into the biggest smile he could manage, considering the whole left side of his face was covered by a bruise. "Sir..."

"Hey kid..."

"Ah have to go do a few things, so he's gonna keep you company for a while." She turned to Wolverine and whispered to him, just low enough so John couldn't hear. "If anythin' happens, you call right away, you hear me?" He nodded his head, and she seemed content enough with that to let them be.

"Wow..." Wolverine turned his attention back to John, who was, with great effort, trying to pull himself into something resembling a sitting position. It was useless, of course, and was probably for the best.

"Don't move, Allerdyce...you'll just make things worse off for yourself."

"I don't...I don't believe it..." It pained Wolverine to see him like this. He'd met John in the beginning of the year, on the first day of boot camp. He was almost as bad as his friend Bobby Drake, except that Drake was a prankster, and John just had a tendency to tell awful jokes. Wolverine went back and forth between regret and thankfulness. There were times when he was harder on the two of them, no doubt giving them the impression that he didn't like them much.

Most of the guys in his platoon felt the same way, because of the way that he worked them. They all couldn't be further from the truth. He had a lot of respect for those guys, each and every one of them, and he was proud that he had the chance to work with them. Sure, he'd been tough, but in the end, he believed they were better prepared to handle this fight than any other men in the army.

"You don't believe what?"

"You're...still...breathin'..."

"Yeah..." He looked down, once again ashamed at himself for having that stupid healing factor. He wanted to suffer...because he knew a lot of guys ten times better than him that were lying on beds, moaning and dying simply because they didn't have the genetics he did. It made him so mad he wanted to kill something...maybe a few more of those blasted Germans that got them into this whole mess. "So...what happened? The others ok?"

"Dang messenger...mixed up the coordinates...led us right into German territory..."

"Easy kid...take it easy..."

"We lost...Worthington...Gambit...got beat up real good..."

"What about Drake and Summers?" Wolverine watched as John tried to chuckle, ending up gasping for air. "Careful kid...don't get excited..."

"Drake...had to wizz...so...Scott decided to wait for him..." He paused for a very long time, smiling proudly when Wolverine chuckled at the story. "We...came runnin' by...tryin'...to shake the Germans...an'...there's Drake...with his pants...down to his ankles..." They each laughed, though John's was by far more strained than Wolverine's, making him wonder if he should make the kid stop while he was ahead. "He ran...pullin' his pants up...stumblin' over the things...all the while moonin' them dang Germans to high heaven..." He at last finished his story and was able to relax against his pillow. The two laughed for some time, Wolverine clearly picturing the kid doing something so crazy. "Hey...sarge?"

"Yeah?" Wolverine watched as John, with painful effort, pulled something from inside his pocket. It was a folded piece of paper, burnt in some places, splattered with blood in others.

"Could you..." He moved his hand, offering it to Wolverine, hoping he would take it. He did, all the while watching John. His face had paled tremendously, and everything seemed to come ten times more difficult to him now. "Copy...copy that over...send it...to my parents?"

"You just wait a few days...you'll be able to do all that yourself." He was lying. To himself, and to John, though he didn't know why. They both knew the outlook of the situation...that it was bleak and downright hopeless.

"Address...is...four...nine...seven....eight...Maysville Rd...Kentucky..." As he spoke, Wolverine could tell his voice was growing dim. He picked up a pencil nearby and leaned in closer to write down the numbers as he whispered them.

"Four, nine, seven, eight, Maysville Rd, Kentucky. Got it. I'll send it..." He paused, after looking up at John. He wasn't moving. A quick glance at his chest verified that he'd stopped breathing. Putting a finger to his neck, Wolverine felt around for a pulse, but was not rewarded with one. Having seen him in all that pain, he was almost grateful that it'd finally ended for him. He sat in silence a while, staring at the folded piece of paper in his hands. Unfolding it, he read the words over carefully, having to guess at some that had been smudged by blood or burnt off. It was a good-bye letter, reassuring them that he was better off now than he'd ever been, and that he didn't want them worrying about him.

Wolverine refolded the note and put it in his shirt pocket. He would write it over and have it ready by mail call the next day. Not bothering to wait for help, nor notifying anyone of the boy's death, he quietly wheeled himself over to his own bed and pulled himself back up into it. He didn't have to pretend he was barely able to do it. Something had caused the feeling to seep right out of him. His arms had threatened to give out when he pushed himself up off the seat and slid back onto the bed.

He didn't say anything after that, not even when his nurse came by to talk to him. He'd just stared at the ceiling, too lost in thought to even realize he had company. He didn't know what had him so upset...but something in him felt a little lost...and a little confused. He used to love the idea of war...bein' able to kick major butt without regretting it later. Now...all he wanted was for it to end. He wanted to go home, and forget any of this ever happened. As his eyes closed, he wondered if that would ever be.

She watched him, the next day, from the corner of the room. She was supposed to be sweeping, and checking over each of the patients, but she couldn't help it. He looked so miserable, sitting there. She knew it had to do with the boy who'd died the night before, but she also knew that wasn't it entirely. Putting the broom away, she found the shaving utensils they'd gotten in their last shipment of medical and personal items. Gathering up a basin of water as well, she moved to his bed and set the things down on the table beside him. "Hey..."

"Hi." He lowered his eyes from the ceiling, down to his hands.

"Ah mailed that letter for you this mornin'." She mentally kicked herself for having brought that up. Now, it'd just remind him of John and the war, and probably whatever else was on his mind.

"Good." One word answers. This definitely wasn't like the man she'd just spoken to the previous day. Something in him seemed defeated.

"So..." She pulled on a pair of gloves, and began to lather up some shaving cream, spreading it carefully over his cheeks. He leaned his head back, allowing her to do so, but said nothing else. "Y'know...Ah guess if we're going to talk we should know each other's names. Your tags say Wolverine, but they don't have your real one on there too."

"Thought you nurses didn't like to know?"

"We don't. Usually. But Ah've already blown things by talkin' to ya an' gettin' to know ya, so Ah figure, why not?" Picking up the razor, she began to swipe his chin, moving carefully so she didn't knick him. Of course, they'd only remain on his skin for a moment or so, that much she'd learned already. Still, the momentary wince he'd gotten the first time she'd given him a shave, had made her wince as well. And besides that, there were other men around that needed a shave as well, and they didn't heal quite so quickly.

"Not too close."

"Of course not. Ah like a little stubble on your chin. Makes you look rugged, y'know, like them cowboys back in the US?" She giggled slightly, hardly able to picture him sitting atop a horse, wearing big hats and spitting like there was no tomorrow. No matter how hard she tried, there was no other way to picture him besides as a soldier. He just fit the part, from the physical aspects, down to the behavioral and mental.

"You flirt like this with all the guys?"

"Nope."

"How come?"

"Wouldn't be as much fun. Normal men grin an' flirt back. You're tha only one Ah flirt with that actually scowls at me." She giggled, and was grateful to hear him chuckle slightly. "Careful, or Ah'll knick ya good."

"Sorry."

"So. What're your plans for today?"

"Well, there's a section of the ceiling I haven't memorized yet. I thought I'd work on that for a while." Laughing again, she moved the razor and got the last bit of shaving cream off his chin and cheeks.

"Too bad your schedule's so booked. Ah arranged for a carriage t'come an' get us outta here for a while."

"Plannin' on kidnappin' me huh? Aren't there laws against that?" He moved a hand over his chin, making sure she didn't cut it too close, even though she'd assured him a hundred times she wouldn't, mentally nodded in approval and seemed to ponder a minute.

"You caught me red handed. Now, you gonna come peacefully, or do Ah have to force ya out?"

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I resist?"

"Good. Now, Ah know you're tryin' to get Jean's attention with that bare chest of yours, but if you wanna go out, you gotta pull on a shirt." She saw him try to scowl, but they both knew it was a failed attempt, especially when a grin broke out over his lips. He did as she said, while she went back to her quarters and found the only nice dress she'd brought along with her. It was a fairly simple thing, a light peach color, and sleeveless, but she loved it all the same. She replaced her nurses cap with a straw bonnet, one that would keep the sun out of her eyes.

When she went back to get Wolverine, he was sitting up in his bed. She smiled, realizing how eager he must be to get away from this place. He wasn't injured, despite the front he had to put up, and she was pretty sure he'd go mad if he couldn't walk around and exercise some. "You ready to go?"

"Yup." She'd gotten a wheelchair in the process, and helped him into it slowly. Yelling to Jean that she and Wolverine were going and that they'd be back before it got too dark, she pushed him outside and up to the waiting carriage. The man driving helped to get him into it, and she had to laugh at the expression on Wolverine's face. He looked about ready to belt the guy for implying that he was too weak to do something for himself. She glanced sympathetically at him, asking him with her eyes to watch his temper. He conceded, and sat quietly while the man helped her in as well.

The ride was relatively short, as she suspected it would be. After the man driving had helped her get Logan out of the carriage and back into the wheelchair, she gave him time to return and watched him go. The moment he was out of sight, Wolverine stood up, pushing the wheelchair away in disgust. She had to help him walk for a few minutes, since he'd been in that bed so long his legs weren't used to walking. "What is this place?"

"Ah'm not really sure. Ah found it a while ago, when Ah was lookin' for a place Ah could do laundry an' bathe an' all that."

"You bathe here? I'll have to keep that in mind..." She laughed and elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"Don't even think about it, mister!"

"Too late." The childish, playful grin that'd spread across his lips made her smile as well, and she knew from the feel of heat rushing to her cheeks that she was blushing. She continued to walk down the small hill and eventually stopped when they'd reached a small wooden dock. "What's this?"

"A dock. They use it for fishin'. Or they did, before the Germans came through here and destroyed everything, sending people packing." She sat down on the edge of it, after peeling her shoes off. She could feel him watching her as she slipped first her toes, then both of her feet into the water.

"Oh." She heard him crack his neck a minute before deciding to take a seat beside her. "Logan."

"Ah beg your pardon?" She peeled her eyes off of the clouds to look over at him.

"My name. It's Logan."

"Just Logan?"

"Far as I know, yep." He paused a moment, seemingly hesitant about going on. He busied his hands by picking up a handful of rocks and skipping them across the lake water. "A while back...these...people, they tried this experiment on me. I don't know if it worked or not...I just know I woke up with no memory. Oh, and a pair of these..." The next moment, he'd flexed his hands a certain way, and three very long, apparently very sharp, claws sprung from his knuckles. The sound made her wince, as did the idea of them having to cut through his skin to come out.

"Ah'm sorry..."

"What for? 'Less you helped put them there, you've got no reason t'be."

"Ah guess."

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Your name?"

"Marie."

"Just Marie?"

"Far as you know, yep." He laughed slightly and nodded in understanding. Taking a stone from his hand, Marie cocked her head slightly and tossed it, frowning when it hit the water and sank. "Ah never was very good at that."

"It's more like this." Standing to his feet, he helped her up, and put a stone into her hand. Getting behind her, he took hold of her hand, carefully concentrating and angling it. "I'm guessing, from the accent, you're from the South?"

"Born an' bred in Mississippi." With his help, she managed to flick her wrist enough to send the stone skipping across the pond. "Not that Ah should be tellin' you that or anythin'."

"Why not?" He brushed his hands off and started to stretch. She sat back down and watched him run through a few exercises while she explained.

"Nurses are warned on tha way ovah here not to get involved in tha soldiers' lives. Too upsettin', since we lose most of them, y'know? Tha last person to fall in love with a soldier she was tendin' to was deported for inappropriate behavior."

"So fallin' in love is inappropriate, huh?"

"Only if tha head nurse hears about it!" She laughed slightly, looking away when she began to think of how good he looked, working out with no shirt on. She looked back again to see him paused in his work out, and staring at her. "What?"

"You've got those gloves on again?"

"Oh...yeah..."

"What gives? I haven't seen you take them off since I've gotten here. Except for that night...with the guy next to me...what did you say happened to him?" Marie tried to act uninterested in it all, as if she had nothing to do with it, but her visage portrayed otherwise. Looking in her eyes, Logan could see the guilt she was hiding.

"That was...Ah mean...it was an accident...he caught me off guard is all..."

"You...you're a mutant too, aren't you? That's why you wanted me to keep up this injury business...cuz you'd get in trouble too..." She hung her head slightly, feeling so selfish she could barely look him in the eye, let alone answer him. Sighing, she looked back down at the water and nodded in reply. "Hey, I'm not mad about it. Just curious."

"Ah...Ah have a hard time controllin' mah powers..."

"Which are...?" He'd taken a seat beside her now, since she'd dropped the tone of her voice to no louder than a whisper.

"Ah c'n absorb people's energy an' their memories...just by touchin' them..." She pulled her feet up out of the water and looked at him. "Before Ah was sent ovah here, Ah was in trainin' with Mr.McCoy, tha doctor who saved that man tha other day. He helped me learn t'keep mah powers in check. But it takes a lot of concentratin', so most of tha time Ah just wear gloves t'avoid it. But you noticed, an' kept askin', so Ah took them off. Ah didn't think he'd touch me, 'else Ah'd have kept them on." She frowned at herself. She only spoke with a heavy accent when she was getting upset. And she was upset, for what she'd done, as well as for telling all these secrets to a man she'd only met three days ago.

"Hey..." He could tell she was upset over something, so he carefully slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to him. He had never done anything like this before, she could tell, because his movements were hesitant and awkward. Nevertheless, it was something relatively close to a hug, a gesture she hadn't had in months, and she was grateful for it. "You can't be expected to be perfect all the time. People make mistakes."

"But...mah mistakes c'n kill people..."

"Mine too."

"It's such a heavy burden, isn't it?" She pulled away from him then, not because she didn't appreciate the hug, and, she had to admit, she did enjoy being in a man's arms again after going so very long without that. Still, she couldn't have anything to do with this man, not romantically anyway. Suddenly, she looked at her hands, realizing they were just sitting there. She liked to have them doing things...if they weren't, she felt awkward. So she pulled them up and wiped the tears away from her eyes and sighed some, fixing her hair afterward.

"You get used to it."

"Ah suppose you're right."

"Suppose? I'm always right."

"Ah'll believe that when a man filled with metal swims across this lake, one hand tied behind his back." She'd meant it as a joke, a retaliation for his ego, hoping to bring it down slightly. In the end, all she accomplished was building it up. Before she knew what was happening, he had pulled his uniform jacket down over one arm, keeping it securely against his back. "Wait a minute..." It slowly dawned on her just what he planned on doing. "No! Logan! Don't you dare!"

She got to her feet as quickly as she could, considering she was in a dress. By then, he had moved to the end of the dock and was now facing her, a smile spread over his lips. After saluting her with his free hand, he took one more step backward and fell into the water. "Logan!" She ran to the edge of the dock and looked around frantically, panicking when she didn't see him. All at once, two arms reached out from the depths of the water, and wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her down into the water as well. She only had time for a suprised gasp before her head was underneath the water along with the rest of her. Her arms thrashed around as she tried to get above the water. The two arms around her waist helped hoist her up and she quickly heaved in the fresh air. When she looked behind her, where Logan was wading, she sent him a scowl. He replied with a grin, and moved over to the dock, taking hold of it and pulling himself up. She remained in there a moment, both arms moving to see to it she stayed afloat, all the while scowling in his direction. She tried to look angry, but it was hard when on the verge of bursting into giggles.

"Want some help?" He crouched down and offered her a hand. She looked at it warily, then moved over and took it. Just before he moved to help her up, she tugged and sent him back into the water. Grinning smugly, she pulled herself out of the water and proceeded to wring out her skirt, though it wouldn't be completely dry now for a few hours at least.

"Missed a spot." She turned to see him getting out himself, watching her care for her drenched clothes.

"Where...?" She turned about, looking for a piece of skirt she hadn't gotten yet.

"Right...there..." He pointed to the back of her skirt and she frowned, then moved to take hold of it, when realization hit. She watched a wide grin pass over his lips as the heat rushed into her cheeks. He was trying to get a peek at her undergarments.

"Ah never would have guessed you were such a...a...heathen!" Laughing, she threw her soaked handkerchief at him and took hold of her hat which, thankfully, she had pulled off earlier. "Well, sir, Ah do hope you're feelin' bettah, cuz Ah assure you, you're walkin' home!" She had to turn away from him quickly to hide the smile that took hold of her. Walking away from him, Marie realized that she hadn't been so relaxed and carefree in many months. She wondered if it had to do with this particular patient, or if he just happened to be the one to help. It could have been any man in his place...couldn't it?

In the end, she'd had mercy on him and allowed him to ride back in the carriage with her. It was funny, a few years ago he wouldn't have been caught dead in something like that. White horses, and carriages covered in flowers just weren't his thing. She'd said that they weren't always that...girly, but most of the normal carriages had to be used in the war, leaving the town itself with the leftovers. That didn't make him like the ride any better.

Of course...there was one good aspect of it all. He had the chance to watch Marie closely. She concentrated on the scenery, leaving him free to look without getting caught. Or so he thought, anyway. He started at the top and worked his way down, it was the way he always studied people. Two features stood out more than anything else; her eyes, and her hair. Well, the auburn coloring of her locks wasn't anything to pay attention to, but the white shock of hair between them certainly drew you in. He wondered if they were natural, or if she somehow had it done.

Her eyes were large, but then, many women had large puppy eyes. He cocked his head slightly and wondered what it was that made you notice them. The dark, striking, deep green coloring certainly was a compliment to the rest of her. At first glance, they looked like normal, every day eyes. He'd seen plenty to know that. But then, when you looked deeper, you saw the sadness. And it made him curious as to what could have put it there. Her mutation could have added to it. After all, he was sure after years without any physical human contact, anyone could be deeply effected by it. But that wasn't it, not entirely anyway.

Abandoning the question of her eyes for the time being, he let his own wander further down the way. The dress she was wearing definitely flattering to the rest of her, even if he didn't say so out loud. He skipped the obvious parts that men generally wanted to study, granting that he'd have time for that later on, until his eyes fell upon her hands, folded properly in her lap. He couldn't help the half grin that grew, as he saw her legs crossed. Glancing up at her face, he waited to be sure that she was looking anywhere but at him, then shifted slightly in his seat to get a better view. Sitting half slumped, it suddenly occured to him how ridiculous he must look to anyone watching them pass by. When his eyes fell upon their intended target, he forgot that realization and grinned a little more. With her legs crossed the way they were, he could just barely see up her skirt. "Enjoying the view?"

"Yup." A minute later he realized that it wasn't the driver asking, as he'd thought, but Marie herself. He didn't even think twice about the voice. That is, until Marie suddenly uncrossed her legs and pulled her skirt down some. That was when he realized she'd been the one talking to him. He remained in the position he had been in for a moment, wondering how he could possibly get out of this situation without looking like a complete idiot. Seeing none, he straightened his back and folded his arms over his chest and looked into her face.

Her lips were pursed tightly, and after the surprise wore off, he noticed she was trying not to laugh. Not only that, but she had a faint pink coloring in her otherwise pale cheeks. He kept up the gaze, wanting to see her smile and blush a little more. Nonchalantly, he stretched some and cocked his head again. "Of course...I'd enjoy it a lot more if you could move your skirt up just an inch more..."

"Logan!" Her eyes grew wide and she blushed a deep scarlet color at his comment. Desired effect granted, he grinned and leaned back against the seat, always watching her. His good nature was spoiled only when they reached the hospital again. "From now on, your gaze wanders silently, understand? We get caught talkin' an' actin' like this, an' Ah'll be shipped home on tha next available boat."

"Yes ma'am!" He saluted her again and allowed the driver to help him back into the wheelchair. True, he felt utterly ridiculous in the chair, because at the same time, he appeared useless. Mind you, anyone who said that to his face would have a personal introduction to all three adamantium claws.

A sharp "Miss Marie!" turned his attention away from her and to a small, portly woman waddling out toward the two of them. Her face was etched with concern, her hands wringing the life out of the bottom half of her apron. At closer inspection, one could see small spots of blood splattered over the nurse calling for Marie.

"What is it Betsy?"

"Bed number 7, Miss Marie. He's hurting real bad..." At mention of the patient, Logan saw her face fall slightly, and for a moment he knew she was caught trying to figure out what to do.

"Betsy, please help this man to his bed. Floor 2, bed 3." Without a parting word to Logan, he watched her move swiftly into the hospital, and Betsy took hold of his wheelchair. He wanted to growl and push her aside, saying he could do it himself. But he remained calm, letting her take him back to bed.

"What's wrong with the guy?"

"Excuse me?" He took in a slow deep breath, trying to control the impatience this woman had pushed him to without even doing anything. He wasn't sure why he was so touchy suddenly, especially since it was a small nurse as his apparent enemy.

"I said...what is wrong, with the guy?"

"What guy, sir?" He clenched the arm rests on his wheelchair, watching as his knuckles turned to a white color. "Oh! You mean the man Miss Marie is helping?"

"Yeees!" He could feel her flinch from his sarcasm, and he muttered a gruff apology under his breath.

"I'm not permitted to say sir."

"Well, why's he need HER then? Can't somebody else do it?"Amazing how he suddenly sounded like such a spoiled child.

"I suppose someone else could. But he's so very fond of her. And she seems to like him fine."

"Oh is that right?" He mocked her perky tone, though she wasn't aware of it. She just assumed he was a cheerful person and laughed.

"Yes. Now, I didn't tell you this, but...she does seem to spend quite a bit of time with him. And I heard he asked her to marry him! Why...if she wasn't his nurse I should think she would have accepted!" Funny how, until prompted and asked the right questions, she wasn't at liberty to speak about other patients to him.

"Really? Isn't that grand?" His good mood was dissipating at a faster rate now. Damn her for leading him on like that. And damn himself for believing the bull she was feeding him.

"Do you need anything?" A beer would be nice.

"No." Noticing his slowly changing mood, she was quick to dismiss herself. A permanent scowl imprinted on his face, he folded his arms and watched the door, waiting for Marie to come to him. There were a few things he had to get off his chest.

She didn't come til late. He supposed she'd come earlier, but at some point, he'd fallen asleep. He was surprised, considering he wasn't tired, nor did he feel tired at all during the day.

He heard her first. She was hesitant, hanging about the doorframe, as though not entirely sure she wanted to approach him. He could smell the tears on her, and for a moment he re-thought his original plan to "discuss" some issues with her. "Marie." He said the word, keeping his eyes closed, unable to look at her. Because looking at her would mean having to give in to the awful emotions etched out over her countenance.

She started, and raised a hand to her chest in surprise. "Ah thought you were asleep still."

"No." His eyes followed her as she moved slowly over to his bed. He did not offer her a seat as he usually did, but sat silently instead. He could feel her realize that he was angry with her, and she at last sat, stiffly, barely leaning back into the seat. She was far from relaxed, and glancing over he noticed her body was trembling slightly. It was not cold, at least, not to him, so he wondered what the matter was. And then he mentally cursed and told himself not to care. "You're upset."

"Oh Logan...you have no idea...it was so awful! Ah-"

"I didn't ask for details, Nurse." The brief, blunt manner in which he spoke surprised her, so much so that she snapped her mouth closed and sat, staring at him in disbelief.

"Nurse...? You know mah name now, Logan, why don't you use it?"

"With everyone else using it nowadays...I figured I shouldn't wear it out."

"Wear it out...? Logan, what are you so upset with me about?"

"As though you don't know."

"As a matter of fact, Ah don't!" She winced at her own words, fearful that they were growing loud enough for others to hear. "Logan, why don't you just tell me what Ah've done?"

"How's your friend, over in bed 7? He sure must love your company, to keep you so long. What was he, quoting sonnets and making up love poems, while pleading for you to marry him?" The bitterness in his voice was thick enough to be tangible. He was glad when he saw her start, and moreso when her face twisted some into a grimace. He had hurt her, just as she had him. They were even. Now they could both move on. Or so he thought, anyway.

"Why are you bringin' Jacob into all of this?" Her voice was apprehensive, and a little shakey.

"Thought you nurses didn't like to know names? I guess it's okay though, when he wants to marry you, am I right?"

"No Logan, you aren't right! Not at all!" Her voice remained at a low volume, but her tone went up slightly at the end of each word. She was angry. Well good! For the past three hours he'd sat there, feeling like an ass, and being just as angry, if not moreso. It was time she learned everything wasn't perfect in the world today.

"Oh yeah? Prove it." She looked at him a moment, a gaze he was not about to break. He searched her eyes, looking for anything that would tell him it was all a lie. Instead he saw pain. Lots of pain. Pain he thought he'd inflicted. Pain he'd been proud of a moment before, and now was nothing but ashamed of.

"Jacob was mah neighbor when Ah was a little girl. He was like a big brother to me. Ah've never had any other feelin's for him, an' tha same is true of his feelings for me."

"And the marriage proposal?"

"Tha boy was filled with morphine! Another minute an' he would have asked a dog to marry him! God, Logan..." She ran a hand through her hair, obviously shaken. And Logan? Well...he was starting to feel guilty. That, and very stupid for having listened to gossip. Since when did that constitute as truth? Still, his pride would not allow him to admit he was wrong. Not to her, and not to himself.

"So quick to defend him. I'd say you're lying, Marie. I can see it in your eyes. Any minute now, you're going to go running back to him and accept." She stiffened even more then, glaring at him with a look of pure hatred reflecting in her eyes.

"How dare you! Ah can't go back an' do that now, even if Ah wanted to."

"Why, because you're on duty?" He was baiting her, and he knew it. He wanted to get her angry, really angry. He wanted every muscle in her body to strain with the need for revenge. He wanted to know that he wasn't the only one that was beginning to feel something between them, only to feel it being pulled away a minute later.

"No! Because he's dead!" With that she was up out of the chair and out the room. He winced when the chair hit the ground, echoing throughout the large, empty room, and causing his ears to ring painfully.

At that particular moment, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He knew he wanted to kill something, but couldn't make the distinction between who it was he wanted to kill, himself, or little Miss lying Betsy. After a few moments contemplation, he decided he was most angry at himself, for being such an idiot. He realized it wasn't his place to be in love. He was highly uneducated in the ways of women, and anything else that had nothing to do with war.

Staring at the ceiling, he began to hate. It wasn't directed at anything in particular, though it all joined together at some point and directed back at himself. After what seemed like an hour or so, he'd come to the conclusion that his time here was up. He'd pushed himself into a corner that had but one choice of escape. He had to leave this place. Put as much distance between himself and Marie as humanly possible, before he messed things up even more so. He didn't belong in that hospital anyway; feigning injury was only keeping one truly injured person from receiving the care they needed. No...it wasn't here he belonged at all, but back in the war. And tomorrow, he'd return there. It was too late now to catch a transport outta this place, but tomorrow...

Blood. It was everywhere, on the blankets, on the pillows, even on her hands and apron. She couldn't escape it. It was as though the color had seeped into her eyes and tainted her vision. All she could hear was the sound of someone's heart beating. Was it her own? Was it Jacob's? God where was it coming from! She covered her ears against the noise and looked around frantically. All she could see was a bed, occupied by a young boy, crying out in pain and clutching his chest. His hands, as well, were covered in the red substance, and it made her shudder. Nurses flooded in from every direction. No one seemed to hear her. Their lips moved and she saw their eyes dart this way and that, but she couldn't grab their attention. She was screaming til her lungs ached, and still no relief was provided to her.

Someone was shaking her. She wasn't aware of the thought until after she'd jerked violently from her nightmare. She didn't care at the moment who it was, so long as they were there and could provide comfort. At first she thought it was Jean, but the strong arms closing in around her proved otherwise. It was a man, not the good Doctor McCoy either. He was smoothing her hair down and whispering to her as though she were a child, frightened by a storm outside her window. She was vaguely aware that she was shaking, and the moment the nightmare flooded back into her memory she yanked her hands from inbetween herself and her comforter, and stared at them. No blood, not on the palms, nor on the backs when she flipped them over. She ran them both through her hair, before burying her face into them and letting out a shakey breath. "Easy..." All at once, the voice registered in her mind, and a flood of confusion poured into her.

"Logan...?" No...it couldn't be him. He had just been yelling at her hours ago, accusing her of toying with his emotions. She hadn't known that at the time, but after sitting down and analyzing the conversation, it made perfect sense. She decided he was jealous. And then it occured to her that he had nothing to be jealous about, really. He couldn't be jealous of a relationship that didn't exist.

"Easy darlin'...don't try and talk...just relax..." It was hard not to, what with the way he was slowly rocking back and forth, all the while stroking her hair and back to alleviate her panic. Her arms ached, and she realized then how tightly she must be holding him.

Muttering an apology, she loosened the hold, but never completely removed them from around his waist. It seemed too comfortable a gesture, too normal, as though they'd done it before.

"It was an awful nightmare...everything blood red...Ah...Ah tried to scream...but no one could hear me..."

"Shhh...I heard ya...and I'm here..."

"Yes...and you shouldn't be..." She couldn't help but laugh slightly. "We always seem to do things that are against the rules, don't we?"

"Rules are made to be broken." She was aware of a lot of things just then. Such as the warmth coming from his body and resting against hers. The feel of his fingers sinking into her hair as he continued to hold her close. The emotion building up inside her was intoxicating...making her unable to concentrate on anything but him. Until she remembered her ability to hurt him. That thought plaguing her mind, she pulled away from him, offering a small, tight grin. "Sorry...Ah just...Ah don't want t'hurt you..." He reached forward and flicked a finger lightly, causing a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes to jump up and rejoin the rest of her locks atop her head. He then held up two hands, and she had to laugh slightly to see gloves covering both of his hands.

"I thought ahead."

"You can take them off now...Ah...Ah'm all right." She turned slightly, enough to swing her legs off the bed and rest her feet upon the floor. The cold sprang up into them, sending a shiver up her spine in the process. She reached behind her, absently, and took hold of her thin blanket, pulling it up and over her still trembling shoulders. The snapping sound of the gloves being pulled off echoed throughout her quarters, and she winced, hoping no one heard it. "How did you get in here...? There are nurses on duty...they'd never let you..."

"They don't know. I was quiet."

"We could get into trouble..." She wasn't thinking of his being in her room, not at that present moment anyway. She realized it all now. She cared for this man, more than she cared for her patients in general. This was something else...something she couldn't remember ever feeling before.

"They'll never know." All at once, it was clear how close he was because she could feel his warm breath upon her, just as she could feel his lips close to her ear. He had moved onto the small bed she slept on, and had wrapped an arm around her to pull her against him. He'd done so before, once, back at the dock when she had admitted to him just what she was.

"Ah'm not tha best liar..."

"Just tell them you needed my help carrying some supplies into the supply closet."

"What...?" She turned to look at him, confused. How would that convince the others that she didn't have feelings for him? Then she realized it. He was thinking about their present condition. "Oh...yeah...Ah'll do that..." She watched his brow bend in concern as he brought a hand up and faintly touched her chin to make her look up at him.

"What is it, Marie?"

"It's...nothin', sugah...nothin'...Ah guess Ah'm still a little shaky from that dream is all..." She let out a deep breath, and something inside told her he hadn't believed a word of it. "So we're back to a first name basis, hm?" It took a moment to register what she was implying, but when it did, the sudden shame that filled his eyes was enough to tell her how sorry he was. "It's all right, Logan...Ah understand..."

"No...you don't...hell, I don't even understand it. But for some reason, when that lady told me that guy had proposed to you, I felt this anger build up...anger that I haven't felt since landing here. I've done some thinkin'... and the only logical thing I could come up with was that I was jealous. Doesn't make much sense to me...it's something I've never had to deal with before." He sighed and looked down at the ground, pulling his arm from around her shoulder, and folding his hands together. He seemed to watch them a long time, not knowing the words to say. Marie watched him carefully, slowly coming to grips with the reality that the chance that he felt the same was very real. "Aw geez, Marie, I'm not the kind of man that does this sort of talkin'. I can spit out commands, one right after the other, in the middle of a battle. Then, sittin' in front of a beautiful woman, I can't even muster up three nice sentences."

"Logan, you don't have to..." Somehow, she knew what it was he was trying to say. Maybe it was because it was what she'd been feeling all this time. Maybe not.

"I do have to...you deserve that much. You deserve more 'n that..." He rubbed his hands together and looked up at her, searching her eyes for any kind of sign. After a few moments, Logan straightened, and turned slightly so he was better facing her. It looked to Marie as though he'd found what he was looking for. "All I know is, from the day I woke up, to this evening when I heard you screamin', there wasn't a moment gone by that you weren't somewhere in my mind. You may not be up front always, but you're there, no matter what. An' I like it that way. There's always been a void somewhere in me that didn't seem to wanna get filled up. Now I'm thinkin'...well...I'm thinkin' maybe it has."

"Logan..." She was confused...not with him, but with herself. All the words he'd just said were what she'd imagined him saying over and over when she was laying in bed thinking at night. And still, a part of her didn't want to hear them, because she knew nothing could come of this. He was a soldier...the moment they found out he's able to fight again, they'd set him on a transport and ship him out again. Meanwhile, she'd remain there, wondering if he was all right, never quite sure if he was leading troops into battle or sprawled out dead in a trench.

"Don't tell me no, Marie...not without good reason." His hand moved slowly, her eyes following its path up to her cheek, where it rested lightly.

"Ah'm not supposed to..."

"Who're they to..."

"Ah know...they are nobody. They shouldn't have a say in mah life, but Logan, tha truth is, for tha time bein', they do. They tell me when Ah eat, sleep, go out, and yes, they even tell me when Ah can and cannot fall in love." She sighed heavily, taking his face into her two, slightly trembling hands, and looked at him. "Ah do care for you. But Ah can't risk bein' sent back to tha States. Eventually, you're going to go back to fightin' an' Ah'll be left here..."

"You're too far ahead of yourself, Marie. I've got a good month left before they can even think of takin' me back. That's plenty of time to be together...And after the war, I'll come back here, throw you over my shoulder, and never let you out of my sight again."

"Do you know what you're askin' of me, sugah?"

"I'm asking for time. Don't answer me right now. Give this a shot. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Ah don't know, Logan, Ah just can't..."

"Marie!" The sudden call was almost too much for her. Her mind was swamped with thoughts, flooded with confusion, and dampened with doubt. There was so much she needed to think about...it would take her a month just to sort through all the present emotions clinging to her.

"That's Betsy callin'..."

"Yeah..."

"Ah need to go...she'll get suspicious if Ah'm not prompt. You...you can't stay here an' wait, Ah may be a while and someone is bound to notice you're missin'. Ah don't know what Ah'm going to do about all this...but Ah can't think about that now. Ah'm sorry..." She sighed and left him alone in the room. The chore Betsy needed assistance on took only a short period of time, leaving Marie to hope Logan would still be in her room when she returned. She wanted to see him again, be with him, without all the complications they were both adding.

When she turned to enter her room, however, it was empty. She tried to ignore the feeling of her heart falling in her chest as she pulled the blankets back and slid into bed. All the stress and tension from the day, in addition to the added feeling of loss still weighing down upon her, made it very easy for her to fall into a deep sleep, free of all nightmares. In the midst of her exhaustion, she failed to notice the lone figure, leaning against her door frame, body outlined by the small shafts of light streaming in around him. Nor could she see the countenance, distorted by pain, as he turned, closing the door, and leaving her in peace.

"Marie, I need to speak with you." She turned immediately, looking at the woman behind her, and offering her a slight smile.

"All right." Sensing it was more important than her task of folding towels, she set the pile in her lap down on the table and got up. Having a habit of fidgeting, Marie straightened her dress and fixed her hair and hat to keep her hands busy, whilst she followed the woman.

"I've just spoken to an army official. They are growing short handed ...they need all the men they can get. Now, I know no one here is healthy enough to go out just yet. But he was insistant. I asked him to give me two weeks."

"That's reasonable." She was only half paying attention, but the nurses around here were used to that. After seeing all the wounds and deaths of young men and old alike, one's eyes tended to glaze a little in remembrance. Of course, Marie's mind was only partly on Jacob. Mostly, it was thinking on Logan, and all that he'd had to say the previous night.

"Is there anyone you know of, Marie, that could leave here in two weeks?"

"Two weeks?" Yes, she knew someone who was able to leave in two weeks. She knew of someone who was able to leave tomorrow, if they needed. But she couldn't possibly tell them that, could she? It wasn't her place. She didn't know how Logan felt about going, and she knew, personally, that she didn't want to see him go. Work always came before anything else in her life...at least, before she was shipped across the Channel and brought to France for first aid purposes. Of course, at first, everything was all right. But then fate had to guide Logan to this hospital...despite that there were at least ten others in the area. Good Lord, she should curse fate, shouldn't she? "The man in bed two...the one with the sling...he'll be ready by then..." That's it Marie, save him by naming others. Or are you saving yourself? "And...bed four, with the eye patch. Betsy's been working on him, and says his vision will be up to par in no time..."

"What about that man in bed two? The one involved with the mine? The other two have died from it. Will he follow the same path?"

"No ma'am...he's a fighter...Ah think he'll make it."

"Yes...he has shown considerable progress. Perhaps you should take him around for a walk today. Get him some crutches, see how well he works on them."

"We don't want to rush things, ma'am..."

"It is not your job to tell me what you think. It is your job to humor these men until they are healthy enough to rejoin the fighting. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am, Ah just..."

"Yes?" Her eyes were narrowed on Marie, and for a second she stopped breathing. She wondered then if the old woman knew of her feelings for Logan. By denying that he was well, was she just signing his name onto her list of able recruits? Or was she just announcing her feelings for all to hear. If they suspected her feelings, they would send her back home. Having him around much longer was not safe...

"Ah believe he'll be ready in two weeks."

"Really? Well! That's good news isn't it?" Marie watched her bend her head to add his name to the list, not able to control the feeling of betrayl growing. "That's all. Back to work!"

"Yes ma'am..." God, she sounded like a robot... 'Yes ma'am. No ma'am. Perhaps, ma'am.' It made her crazy. Folding the last of the laundry, she put the towels back on the shelves where they belonged and went to Logan, taking a pair of crutches along. This would not be a surprise to him. She was going to tell him herself...prepare him for it.

"Mornin', Marie." The voice was definitely enough to send her back the way she'd come. Somehow, she stood firm and forced a smile, knowing full well it didn't fool him. "What's with the crutches?"

"We are goin' for a walk. Lord knows those poor legs of yours haven't had much exercise in the last few days." She busied herself with work, as she usually did to avoid things. Pulling back his blankets, she focused on moving his legs around the bed and helping him to stand. God knows how amused he must be by all this...her pretending to help him when in truth he didn't need it.

Once he was steadied on the crutches, and after she'd made sure they were just right for someone of his height, she started walking. She hid a smile, knowing that he'd probably never used the crutches before, seeing as how he wobbled from side to side and barely got the hang of them. Of course, it was a good thing too, since it truely looked as though he was having trouble putting pressure on his legs. "Which one of my legs is supposed to be bad again, I forget..."

"Whichever you like. Ah figured Ah wouldn't write a particular down, in case we evah forgot an' had you walkin' on one tha first day, an' on tha other tha next."

"Good plan." He nodded his approval, but didn't look up at her. He was too busy concentrating on the floor and making sure that his face never came closer to it than it was right then.

"You're doin' fine..." She led him outside, where the remains of a garden were, and walked in silence a while. She didn't know how to tell him about what she had done. It was an awful thing, something she doubted he could forgive her for. But it had to be said, so that he was ready for it before the two weeks was over. "Ah have a confession. An' it's one you aren't goin' to like much."

"What? I have to stick around here a few more weeks?" He looked up at her suddenly and offered a slight grin. In the past four days of being with him, she'd never once seen an actual smile. They were all half smiles, cocked grins, and so on. Maybe one day... "Somehow I think I'll manage." She recognized the look on his face because she'd seen a similar one the night before. God, he was making this harder than it had to be.

"Logan..."

"There's no use tryin' to lie 'bout it, Marie. I know you feel it too."

"Whether Ah feel it or not is not the present issue." He nodded, and her heart sank at the knowledge that he wasn't paying any attention to her.

"Someday you'll say it. You'll look at me an' say it flat out." God, this was impossible. Being gentle about it now, was out of the question. She just had to spit it out, despite the deep wound it might cause.

"Logan, this mornin' mah superior asked me who was ready to go back into war in the next two weeks. Ah told her by the end of that time you would be up and ready to fight. She's sent your name, with a list of others, back to the army official who'd proposed the need for more men. After two weeks, Ah'm never gonna see you again."

The rest of the time she had with him was easier than she imagined it would be. Of course, several pictures had played out in her mind as to what his reaction would be. Most of them ended up with him angry at her for making a decision that really wasn't hers to make, not entirely anyway. She never pictured him actually accepting it, as he did. Then it hit her. Either he hadn't heard, or he had, and was trying not to dwell on the topic. How he managed not to think of it constantly was beyond her. From the moment she'd given his name as a possibility, she hadn't felt anything but miserable. Maybe he was just trying to be optimistic. Of course, being they were in the middle of the war, they were short handed on the optimism, since after all they'd done, the Germans still appeared to be winning. It was all very distressing to them, but not so much that they would talk about it. Everyone kept quiet on the war issue and just focused on their patients. It drove Marie crazy, not being able to talk about it to anyone. If you did bring it up, you were usually hushed, and reminded that such depressing talk would lower the soldiers' morale. What about a nurse's morale? Seeing bloody man after bloody man enter into the hospital, never with a lifetime guarantee. Well, except Logan, of course.

Logan...he'd remained somewhat quieter than usual after her confession, at first. It troubled her, so much so that she was going to ask Betsy to take over as his nurse. She didn't want their time together to be tense and on unfriendly terms. But after some time, he seemed to accept the idea and went back to talking to her as though there was nothing out of the ordinary between them. In the two short weeks that they were granted, much to her surprise, they actually grew closer. No one seemed to notice, or find anything out of the ordinary. Most, if not all, just assumed Marie was working extra hard to see to it that Logan was ready to return to war in the two weeks she'd been granted to whip him into shape.

She'd had trouble keeping that promise, many times. Some days with him were so peaceful, as though they were back home in America, rather than in a hospital in the middle of a war, that she wanted to run to her supervisor and tell her that something had happened and that Logan would not be ready after all. Of course, she had to suppress those feelings, but it was never easy.

The night before he was to leave was the hardest for the both of them. They didn't know whether the other one wanted to talk about his departure, or postpone mention of it until the last possible second, so most of the conversation was pointless banter at first. Eventually, however, they came to a point where they needed to discuss it. The sun was coming up above the horizon, and any minute the transport would arrive to take him away. "Are you afraid?"

"Of what?"

"War. Fightin'...things like that?"

"You mean, since I've been away from it so long?" He looked over at her, only to see her staring at the ground. He wondered what was going through her head just then. God knows his was a mess. He didn't even wait for her to answer his question before replying. The more he talked, the less he thought. He liked it that way. Thinking caused too much trouble. "It'll take some getting used to, I guess. No more home cooked meals an' all that..."

"Yeah..." He looked down as well when he heard her give a faint chuckle. They both knew the food in the hospital was anything but real home cooking. He always complained that nurses got better treatment than battle weary soldiers. And most of the time, their little arguements ended up with him triumphant, and Marie giving him her dinner. He tried not to take it, but she was always so insist...and he was always so hungry.

He wasn't sure when exactly it was that it hit him that he may never see Marie again after that day. Nevertheless, it hit him strong and hard in the gut. He raised his eyes to study her face. Her lips were drawn thin and tight, and he could tell by the way her eyes were squinted that she was doing her best not to cry. She didn't like to cry in front of soldiers, or so she said.

"Transports!" The word rang loud and sharp through the halls of the hospital, jerking Marie from the reverie she seemed to have buried herself in.

"Ah guess that means you..." Simultaneously, they stood to their feet, Marie smoothing her dress with the palms of her hands, Logan pulling on his army cap. He complained about it all the time, saying it made him look like a prissy boy. She told him she thought it made him look strong and official like. "Look Logan..." He couldn't help but smile as she pulled her hands up to straighten his shirt out some. Always had to have them doing something...God...he was going to miss her... "Just try an' come back in one piece...all right?" Slowly, he took hold of her hands and stopped their movement about his clothes. He watched her keep her gaze on his hands, now wrapped tightly around her wrists. Her struggle against the tears was growing harder, he could tell, because she shook now.

"Say it." Marie raised her eyes to look at him, not quite sure what he meant at first.

"Transports!" He didn't move from his spot, only tightened his hold on her wrists. All at once she must have realized what he was asking of her, because rememberance filled her eyes.

"I need to hear you say it..."

"They're callin' you Logan..." Nothing around him mattered for the moment. Still holding her wrists, he was able to pull her closer so that their noses were just barely apart from each other. The air was different around them this time. It wasn't like in her room, where they were alone and could speak their mind and had all the time in the world to do so. Now, it was a frantic need that drove and directed his actions. He needed to hear her say it.

"Just say it!"By now, others had entered the room where they were, and proceeded to take Logan's things from him. He shrugged them aside, but knew Marie was consious of their every move. Every muscle in his body strained as she opened her mouth and took in a breath. Before any words could come out of her mouth, a man had clamped a hand onto his shoulder, pulling him backward. The force caught him by surprise, and he had no choice but to release her wrists. She stared wide eyed, possibly in shock. This was all happening too quickly! He couldn't stop the man from pulling him toward the truck and shoving him on. He was aware, however, that Marie had followed them, step for step, and stood just outside the hospital, watching. The motor of the trucks lined up rang loud in his ear, and the shouts of men drowned out all other sound. Just before stepping onto the back of the truck, he squinted and saw her mouth moving, but couldn't make out the words. Before he could focus more to listen, she was pulled inside, and the truck pulled away.

Marie,

I used to sit around after a battle and revel in the fight. It used to be fun to grab hold of the enemy and rip him to pieces with my bare hands. You never look your enemy in the eye, darlin'. That's the first thing they teach you. You look them in the eye, you start to have sympathy for them. You know why? Cuz you can relate to them. You see the fear in their eyes, you see the sudden urge flooding through them, the need to survive. The fear is literally dripping from them.Fear's a strong sense...sometimes nauseating...especially when you can smell the fear twenty miles away. You see a whole life through a man's eyes. You see the family he left behind, the things he's never had the chance to do...and you get caught, because you realize that he's just like you. He's got someone waiting at home for him. You realize he's got dreams and aspirations same as the next guy. So you focus on something else...the nose, the lips maybe...or even something lower than the face. But never the eyes.

I looked someone in the eye today. Had the guy by the throat, had him three feet off the air...almost gone. Then I looked into his eyes. God Marie, I looked...and all I could see was you. The need to come out of this thing alive has never been so strong in me before. It's been three months since I've seen you...three damn months! It's funny, sitting around here, swapping war stories, and I actually feel guilty. I can remember the look of each guy after they dropped dead from my hands. I remember the surge of pleasure that came each time a man fell after I pulled the trigger of a gun. And you know what? I was sick, and I was disgusted. Disgusted in myself, mostly. What normal human being takes pleasure in dominating over another human and taking his life away? What right have I to play God? Dammit Marie, I'm so confused. Suddenly, I'm looking through someone else's eyes. Maybe yours. Maybe I'm seeing war the way you'd see it. I dunno.

Heard there's trouble down where you are. You steer clear of it, y'here me? Don't go asking to get transfered or anything. Stay put til this war ends an' I can come get you. Shouldn't be long now. The Germans are running around in circles, backing themselves into a corner.

Take care darlin',
Logan

Time away from Logan had been torture. She tried to busy herself with her work, but it was no use. Every moment of every day she thought of him. It had been three months now, just as his letter had reminded her. Three months to the day. God, she still thought often of their last moments together. It made her wonder if he heard her. The noise was horrendous, the trucks starting, the wind blowing, and somewhere in the middle of it all, it'd begun to rain. Marie knew that the chances of his hearing her were slim, but she could hope.

The letters were a comfort. He sent them whenever he could. She'd received the first about a week after he'd left, and so it continued up until that very day. She hated thinking of him in the horrible conditions always accompanying war. Knee high mud from the rain soaked trenches. Long, sleepless, foodless nights spent with eyes wide open to be sure the enemy could not pull off a surprise attack. It made her worry all the more for his safety. She never doubted, though, that he would return there in good time. He had promised her, and he would keep that promise. He was different. Millions of men made the same promises earlier on, when leaving their home, and had failed to keep that promise. He was different. He'd keep it. She knew it!

A little excitement finally reached the little hospital where Marie was still stationed. For almost a month they had had nothing but minor patients heading in and out of the place. Now, they were informed that in a matter of moments, truckloads of men coming from an earlier attack would arrive. The surge that followed the news was excitement, anxiousness, and apprehension all at once.Marie promised herself she wouldn't get more involved than she needed to. Say a kind word, smile a little, and move on. No names, no questions, no nothing.The promise was broken sooner than she'd expected. After they'd finally settled everyone into suitable beds, she began to make her rounds. A young man, no more than nineteen was alone, head tossing and turning, just coming back from unconsiousness. She took up a basin of water and a cloth and sat beside the bed. After a short scan, she realized it was his leg that was injured, and quickly set to cutting his pant leg to look at it.

It was a mess. Blood covered it in a thick layer of red that made Marie turn away momentarily. The sight was all too familiar to her, and despite the fact that her career involved seeing such things, it made her stomach turn. Upon turning back, she found that there were other problems besides the initial bullet wound she had discovered. The most distinct problem was the smell...a putrid, almost gaseous smell that did nothing to ease the already growing discomfort in her stomach.

After cleaning the blood from his leg she began to check for other symptoms. An idea formed in the back of her mind, but it was one she did not wish to pay attention to. Not at the present time anyway. Peeling off a glove, she closed her eyes to get her mind in order enough to concentrate on what she was doing. After she was comfortable, she touched his bare leg, and was startled by the cold she felt in it. A sharp gasp from her patient made her remove her hand and look up. Forcing a fake smile, she moved forward in her chair to look at him. "Hey there. Welcome back."

"Back...?"

"How you feelin'?"

"Hot..." It was not the answer she wanted to hear, but somehow, she expected it. All other signs pointed to her worst fears.

"Ah reckon you would be. Ah'm gonna put this cloth on your forehead...it'll help with tha fever." After doing so, she quickly comforted him as best she could, promising to return as soon as she could. Convinced he would be all right for the moment, she went to seek out a doctor.

"Dr.McCoy, may Ah speak with you a moment?"

"Of course." She knew he saw the startled, unhappy look on her features, because his lips quickly turned into a frown and his eyebrows curved downward. "What's the matter?"

"There's a young man, just come in from tha last attack. Bullet wound."

"Just below the knee. Yes, I saw him earlier. What of him?"

"There's a pungent smell accompanying the wound...his leg is ice cold...and he's suffering from a high fever." Marie watched as his frown grew deeper and his eyes squinted some in frustration.

"Gangrene?"

"What else could it be?" It was distressing to her. She didn't even know the boy, and already her heart went out to him. He was too young to have to handle something like this. She tried to remember the promise she made to herself as she lead the doctor back to him. She stood by his side, trying to talk to him, comfort him, and most of all block him from seeing the worry spreading over the doctor's face.

"What is it?"

"Nothin' kid...you just rest."

"Tell me."

"Shhh..." Since he couldn't see the doctor, Marie's best guess was that she wasn't hiding her emotions as well as she thought she'd been. What could she do? Tell him? Certainly not. Not right away, anyway. After hearing the doctor clear his throat, she turned from the boy and followed him out of sight.

"Gangrene?"

"Most definitely."

"What can we do about it?"

"There's only one thing to do about it. Though I hate the thought of it...we'll have to amputate. There's no other way. If we hesitate and attempt a different cure, it will only develop into a worse case and cause more trouble. If we act now, however, he'll be able to keep more of the leg."

"But doctor...he's so young..."

"There's no other way."

"Yes sir." With that, she left, slipping into her room, to write Logan a response. She needed someone to talk to, and since it couldn't be in person, a letter would have to do.

Logan,

We had a large transfer of patients today. With them came a young man...no more than nineteen. I reminded myself, after you left, that I couldn't get involved in any more lives. I couldn't care. I wouldn't care. Is that terrible of me? To disregard them as men, and to think of them as no more than cases? The man over in bed three with the eye problem...or the boy over in bed seven with the flu...It seems so wrong to me. How do you help someone if you aren't willing to care in the process? But how do you care without ending up hurt? Is there some kind of in between?

He had a bullet wound, just below the knee. Bad. I knew from the minute I stripped away the pantleg and smelled it. The cold and the fever only confirmed it. Gangrene. And there's nothing any of us can do here. There have been techniques put into practice to try and help it...but none seem to work. The only sure fire cure is amputation. I know it's the only way, Logan, but I hate it all the same.He's too young to have to live with only one leg! He has barely begun to live as it is...

It's just not fair. I know what you're thinking. "Marie, life ain't fair." All I want to know is...why not?

Keep writing Logan, it's all I've got left.

Love always,
Marie

"Hey you. Ah see you're feelin' a little better."

"I guess so." She took a seat beside him, seeing that at least the pain from the fever wasn't quite so much, as it didn't cause any visible discomfort.

"Mind if Ah look you over?"

"Go ahead." She tried not to notice how clouded over his eyes were. That there was a sense of realization and pain already present from earlier happenings. It pained her to think that in a few short moments she would have to make the pain even worse for him. Moving down to his leg, she lifted up the blanket covering it and gently peeled off the bandages. The smell instantly met her nose, and she had to force herself not to cringe. Gangrene made the limb affected decompose. She knew that. She just didn't know how rapidly it took affect. Biting her lip, she tapped on his leg.

"You feel that?"

"Feel what?" She shook her head, not able to answer his question. "Is your name...Marie?" Her eyes lifted and she looked at him, hardly capable of covering her surprise.

"What makes you think that's mah name?"

"Sergeant Wolverine is my platoon officer."

"That so?" She knew she wasn't fooling anyone with her nonchalant attitude, but it made her feel a little better to keep up the act, so she did so. After carefully cleaning out the wound, she re-wrapped it in bandages and covered his leg back up with the blankets. "Well, in that case, you're right. Ah am Marie."

"He said...you're the only reasonable nurse here." She laughed, leaning back against the chair and shaking her head, knowing full well that was something he would say. She also knew it was the truth.

"Ah suppose Ah am. What of it?"

"Tell me what's wrong with me." She looked at him in silence, not sure if he really wanted to hear, and not sure if she wanted to tell him.

"You got a girl back home, sugah?" Changing the subject. It was a talent she had begun to fail at, ever since trying it on Logan. It was just as effective on the boy before her.

"Tell me." For a moment she froze. The phrase sounded too familiar. Say it. Say it. Tell me. Tell me. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and lightly patted the hand that rested beside hers.

"Ah'm not sure you're ready to hear tha truth yet."

"After what I saw out there...I'm ready to hear anything." When she still remained silent, he sighed, looking away from her. "That bad, huh?"

"It's curable..."

"How? Through amputation?" Marie faintly felt herself nodding in reply. "Gangrene."

"How'd you know?"

"My father's a doctor. He's tried curing it for a while now."

For a moment, an awkward silence fell between them, both too absorbed in their own thoughts to venture toward a comfortable conversation. After some time, he finally broke the silence. "Hey...can you do me a favor?"

"Yes sir. What can Ah help you with?"

"Can you write a letter for me?"

"Of course. Just a second." Pushing aside the sadness that constantly plagued her heart lately, she got up and retrieved a sheet of paper and something to write with. Sitting back beside him, she listened carefully as he told her exactly what to write. Later, with the letter accomplished, she folded it up and put it in an envelope, promising to send it the next day. The moment he fell asleep, she took a short break of her own.

Logan,

Remember the boy I told you about in my last letter? He knows you. He says he was in your platoon at one time. Name's Robert Drake.

He's a good kid. The war's ruined him a little, I think. Made him grow up too fast. His leg isn't getting any better. We tried the irrigation tactics...but they haven't been working. We can't postpone the surgery any longer. It's set up for tomorrow morning, bright and early.

I wonder how much this will change his life. I know I shouldn't...it's not my business to care. But I do care, all the same. I think about what he might have done before all of this, and now, what he'll do after. How much of an impact will this have on his future? He's got a girl back home. Someone named Jenn. He asked me to write her a letter today. He told her everything. Asked her to marry him when he got home. What happens if she says no? What if she decides she doesn't want to put up with a cripple? God Logan...it's not right. He was so happy when he was talking about her. What if she writes back that she doesn't have time to care for him? What if...

How long before the war is over? I miss you...

Love always,
Marie

The surgery went on as scheduled. Marie had done all in her power to find an alternate cure for the gangrene, with no positive results. And so, bright and early that Monday morning, they'd rolled Robert Drake into the surgical room and prepped him for the amputation. He was calm, which surprised her. Of course, it seemed his nature, to always take things in stride. "Hey, Marie?" She glanced at the doctor, who raised an eyebrow at her in question of his familiarity with her. Deciding pointedly that she didn't care what the rules were, she turned and looked at the boy.

"Hey kid. What is it?"

"She wrote me back." A small, sleepy smile was passing over his lips. How he'd managed to sleep the previous night was beyond her. As for herself...she'd remained awake, pacing, straining every inch of her mind for any previously unseen cure. It was all to no avail, however, and as the sun began to rise, she'd left her quarters to ready the surgical room, and retrieve the patient.

"Who did...?" She reached behind her and pulled on a pair of latex gloves, more suited for surgery than the ones she always wore when on duty. The snap of them falling into place around her wrists made her flinch, as well as jump slightly. She was on edge. She didn't want anything to go wrong in this surgery.

"Jenn." It took a moment for her to remember and place the name, but when she did, she smiled.

"Oh yeah? What'd she say?" She rolled the anesthetic over toward the bed and set it to the right amount.

"Didn't open it yet...I'm gonna do it...when I wake up."

"Fair 'nough."

"You'll be there...won't you?" Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the doctor watching. Instead of the frown she expected him to be wearing, she saw a small smile. Amazing. To think, all this time, she believed he had no feelings. That he was cold and uncaring of each and every man that came and went. It was a relief to finally find someone whose emotions were touched by these cases.

"Ah will. Ah promise. Now, Ah gotta put this mask on you. When Ah say, you jus' take one big, deep breath, an' all your work is done. All right?" When he nodded, she slipped the mask over his mouth and nose, and patted his hand gently. "Okay...breathe in deep..." She watched him do so, counting mentally in her head. They were supposed to be asleep by the time you reached ten. He was out by 6.

"He'll be all right." She turned sharply to look at the doctor. It was the first time he'd directly spoken to her since they'd reached the hospital months ago. "It's a simple surgical procedure. I've done countless." She nodded in understanding, even if it didn't calm her nerves. Every surgery she helped with made her nervous, but not so much as this one. This boy was Logan's friend...was HER friend too. She knew Logan was counting on her to take care of him...because he trusted her like that. She'd be letting him down by erring in this.

Taking in a deep breath and pulling a long apron 'round her waist and neck, she tied the mask over her lips and nose and nodded at the doctor, who nodded back. Letting out the breath, she pushed all doubts and fears from her mind and began, keeping a silent prayer going, at all times, in the back of her mind.

"Well, what's she say?" She realized, as she slid into the seat beside Bobby, that she was just as anxious for the girl's reply as he was. She hoped the girl had a good heart, and that this situation wouldn't put a damper on her feelings for Bobby. He really was a sweet boy.

The surgery went very well. There were no complications at all. They managed to salvage everything from just below the knee and up.

From the looks of him sitting there, beaming, ripping open the envelope, she was sure he wasn't feeling too embittered about it. True, there would be moments in the next few months, maybe even years, where he'd curse the war for doing this to him. But he'd survive.

Marie began to worry when Bobby frowned. Her heart stopped, and a breath caught in her throat. The girl had declined. Even if it was respectfully or kindly, it was still a harsh blow all the same. "Oh Bobby...Ah'm so sorry..."

"Sorry...? What for?"

"Well...didn't she...Ah mean..." Her cheeks burned, and she gave a little shrug. "You're frownin'. Ah thought maybe..."

"Oh! No...it's just...still a little groggy. I'm having trouble readin' is all."

"Need some help?" When he nodded and handed her the letter, she sort of panicked. Now, if things were as she feared, she would be the bringer of bad news. She frowned inwardly, wondering why she always took that job upon herself. Lowering her eyes, she began to scan over the letter first, until she heard Bobby.

"Uh uh! No cheating! We find out together, remember?" She laughed at his impish grin and nodded in agreement.

"Dearest Bobby..." She paused a moment while he shifted to get a little more comfortable in the bed. "Dearest Bobby. Ah miss you.Ah'm glad to hear that there's a nurse there who is seeing to your needs. Ah'm grateful to her, as long as she doesn't take you away from me. Thank her for me." Marie paused a moment, glancing over at Bobby. He had a large smile on his face, and he was staring at the ceiling. She knew he was picturing this girl, in every detail. How did she know? Because every time she received a letter from Logan, she would sit alone in her room and picture him, clear as day, as though he were there, speaking to her.

"She's always jealous like that." His words shook her from her daydream. "When we'd go out, and another girl would talk to me, she'd always look away. And her nose would kind of scrunch up too." He chuckled at that, before waving a hand. "All right, what are you tryin' to do, give me a heart attack here? Finish the letter..."

"Sir, yes sir!" It took her a moment to stop laughing before she was able to continue. "It's funny. There's a war over there...yet...back here in the States, you can't hardly tell. If it weren't for your letters, Ah'd think someone was making up all that talk. Of course, now, they have pictures. They print them in the magazines, trying to get support from any men still left here. You're a hero, Bobby. That's what Mama says. She says you'll get a medal too. That's very honorable. 'Course, I knew you were brave, even before now." She paused a moment, shaking her head. There was no way such a sweet girl could possibly hurt Bobby. Her fears were quelled just then. She glanced over at Bobby to make sure he was still awake, since the medication they'd given him was pretty strong. He was watching her, waiting for her to continue. "Why Bobby, Ah do believe you're blushin'!" She laughed as he turned a little more red and gave a brief shrug of the shoulders.

"I miss her..." He sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. "An' I love her. Course, I'd love her a whole lot more if she got to the point a little quicker." They both laughed, and Marie sat back in her chair, straightening the piece of paper so she could see it better.

"All right, where was Ah...oh!" She cleared her throat and crossed her legs. "Ah love you very much Bobby. Ah know you know that already, but Ah just felt Ah should say it again. With that in mind...you should already know mah answer to your proposal." Marie's throat grew tight, and a burning sensation grew in her chest. "Please send information about your return. Ah want to be there when your ship comes in. It's been so long since Ah've seen you an' held you..." She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She knew what this girl was feeling. Every word she read made Marie want to run to her room and write Logan again. If she hadn't promised to stay with Bobby, and if he didn't need her to read the letter to him, she might very well have. But she stayed for the moment, muddling through the rest of it. "Ah love you. Always. Jenn."

"Well..." Marie re-folded the letter and looked over at Bobby. He seemed to be as effected by the letter as she was. Probably moreso, because it dealt with his future. She'd accepted his proposal. She could tell it was taking time for that to sink in. It must have, finally, because she watched him lower his head and saw tears falling. She said nothing, just as he remained silent. After some time, he finally composed himself and let out a deep breath. She handed back the letter, and he took it, holding it tightly in his hands. "Well...you think that meant yes?" He looked at Marie, a childish, playful grin on his lips. For a moment her mouth hung open before she began to laugh. He followed her example, and for some time they just sat there giggling.

Eventually, though, he grew too tired to continue. She hugged him in congratulations, then left him be. Scurrying to her room, she sat down on her bed. Pulling the tied letters out from under her pillow, she pressed them to her lips, then held them tightly against her chest. Unable to stand the growing tightness in her chest, she let the tears fall. She didn't even bother to wipe them away as they trickled down her nose and cheeks, clinging to her chin before falling into her lap. She missed him. God how she missed him! And she was afraid. Afraid, because she didn't really know if he felt the same. And because she didn't know if she would ever see him to ask him and know for sure.

Marie,

Drake is a good kid. A little over confident at times, but a good kid none the less. He's a lucky man too, finding himself such a good nurse. I know you'll take good care of him.

The war is moving along at a slower pace. The German's are chasing their own tails now, looking for an escape that ain't gonna come. Pretty soon this war'll be over and I'll be able to pack up and head back there to get you. I haven't thought of much else since. Coming back, seeing you again, is about the only thing in my life right now that makes any sense. War just isn't any good for me anymore. Maybe I'm getting to old for it. Funny. I'm thirty years old and I-

He cursed silently under his breath, his eyes momentarily running over the words he'd just written, before he took the piece of paper into his hand and crumpled it. He wasn't a writer. Somehow, the flow of his thoughts from his head to his hand got crossed, and things never came out the way he wanted to.

It'd been three weeks since her last letter. Three weeks and he hadn't managed to write up a good response. He knew she didn't care what he had to say, so long as he said something. But he didn't like to send a bunch of bull to her either. What was the point? She didn't want to hear about the weather over here. She probably wanted to hear about how much he missed her.

And he did, by God...more than even he knew, sometimes. He cursed Drake, even though he shouldn't. The boy lost his leg. Still, Bobby got to be with his Marie, while he had to remain there, sitting in a trench filled with mud, swarming with flies, listening to other men burp and swap war stories. The smell made him sick, even more so since he took in more of it than the others. He wondered then, when he began to worry about how he smelled, and what he looked like. At some point, the thought of a warm shower even crossed his mind. He was a true blue soldier! Since when did showering and looking all presentable matter to him?

Since he met Marie, that's when. He knew bringing a woman into his life would be trouble. He just never knew how much trouble. If someone had told him a year ago how much his life would change with the enterance of an army nurse, he'd have laughed, and maybe even spit in their face. How could he have known that spending just three short weeks with a woman would entirely alter his train of thinking? Emptying the last of his canteen and relishing the feel of the cold water moving down his parched throat, he frowned, tossing the can aside in disgust. He was whipped, dammit. And what's worse, a part of him even liked it a little bit. Liked that someone with big green eyes could have such an effect on his hardened heart. Liked that his head wasn't always focused on gutting someone anymore.

Suddenly, a fellow soldier appeared beside him. Usually, he wouldn't have given it any thought, except that the panic and anxiousness was just bleeding off him. "What is it?" Wolverine narrowed his eyes, watching as the man scrambled to pull a few pieces of paper from his pocket.

"War news, sir. The Germans have been creating these camps. Concentration camps. They're sending minorities there...Jews...gypsies..."

"Mutants..." The thought rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. The man before him froze a moment, uncomfortable at the inclusion of that genre. "Well?" Logan snapped at the man, making sure he didn't have time to do too much looking into his last comment.

"They raided several American Red Cross hospitals in France. Took all the hostages to them camps..." If he hadn't been listening before, Logan was definitely listening now. Marie was stationed in a Red Cross hospital in France. Just North of Calais. He couldn't jump to any conclusions, not yet. He had to hold on to the chance that they'd attacked south of where she was, or maybe no where near her. Somehow, though, despite the logic, he knew they had her. He could feel it deep down, and it made his blood boil.

"They've covered all of Western France, sir. Everything from Nantes to..."

"Calais." He shut his eyes tightly, lowering his head after the man nodded in reply.

The truck smelled. That was the first thing she noted as she climbed up into the back of the transport truck that would take her to a whole new camp. The second thing she noticed was that the sinking feeling she'd went to bed with the previous night was still with her. Something wasn't quite right about this whole situation. It wasn't just the fact that they were being sent to the front lines for medical attention even though the war was just about over. In fact, in light of the other instance, that fact was quite excusable.

No, what worried her most was that the only people being transported were fellow nurses that were known for being mutants. She lowered her eyes at the thought and studied her hands. So much power behind them. And with a very slim sense of control, it would be very easy for the wrong person to take advantage of that power.

She shook her head firmly, reminding herself that the last thing she needed at that moment in time was to put more doubts and fears into her mind. She needed to remain calm. She needed to assess the situation and list all the possible outcomes. She needed...she needed to stop sounding like a drill sargeant and think logically.

The trucks suddenly roared to life and pulled away from the hospital. She peered out the small windows located on the sides of the transports and watched as it faded out of sight slowly. The noise was horrendous, and she cursed herself for having taking the seat right above the wheels. Every bump sent a shock up pain trailing up her spine, causing an almost instant headache. Glancing about the back of the truck, she noticed that all the other passengers were equally as uncomfortable. And none of them had their luggage. She wondered what that was about. Upon reaching the truck, two uniformed men had insisted she hand over her luggage to them. She did so reluctantly, grateful that she'd changed her mind and tucked her letters from Logan in her blouse instead. At the time she'd assumed that they needed as much space as possible for the other nurses. Looking now she saw that the back was half empty, and that there would have been room for twice the amount of luggage they'd all brought.

None of this eased her apprehension any. And of course, to make matters even worse, it began to rain. Once again she cursed her luck at finding the most horrid seat in the entire area, for just above her head a tiny crack was allowing little droplets of rain to fall onto her head. Strong winds blew the truck, causing it to teeter rather violently at some points. In some ways, the swaying motion very much reminded her of the transports she'd been on on her way across the channel.

The beginning of the war seemed so very long ago. She'd been an entirely different person then. Eager to get away from her home life, and into adventure, she'd packed up her bags and signed up to become a nurse with the Red Cross. She figured since her father and three brothers were signed up with the army, she might as well do her part too. It only took two months of training before she was granted permission to travel abroad with the other qualified men and women. She'd been very narrow-minded and naive then, as well. She laughed slightly to herself, remembering her surprise to see male nurses among the female. She thought for sure every man in America was off with the army. Until her new friend Agatha explained that not all men were taken into the army. Marie'd never known then that there were just as many qualifications (if not more so) to get into the army as there were to get into the Red Cross.

She was also very unprepared for what she saw in Europe those first three weeks. True, she'd worked terribly hard, studying every known injury the medical institutes had. Dr.Henry McCoy was a fantastic teacher, and made sure her brain was filled with all the knowledge it would need. No, knowledge was not where she was unprepared. At least, not in the facts department. What it came down to was the emotional stress it'd put upon her.

Marie sighed, remembering the picture shows she'd seen back home. They were all about war right before she left, an obvious attempt to attract the attention of men. It'd worked too. They made them look like brave heroes, each and every one dying in a spotlight of glory. In reality, many died unnoticed. Only a very few died on the battle field, surrounded by friends, and even less died painlessly. Most ended up in the Red Cross hospitals, very much in pain. Some came to them asleep, thank God, but most came, screaming, clutching body parts, and calling for their mothers. Someone once said shock was good for a person. She didn't see how. For the first three weeks she'd cried herself to sleep at night. The whimpering men in the rooms adjacent to hers often filled her dreams, making them nightmares very quickly.

Feeling a slight jab in her chest, Marie was pulled from the past, back into the present. She turned to look out the window, and was surprised to see it was after dark. She must have fallen asleep somewhere along the way.

Remembering the sharp point digging into her, she quickly pulled the letters from her shirt and looked at them. It'd been so long since she'd heard from Logan. Nearly three weeks now...or was it more? After the normal week it took for her to receive a response, she'd lost track of the actual time since he'd written, but she knew it'd be a while. Of course, they were in the middle of a war, so delays were to be expected. Especially if he'd gone to the front. Still...

Hitting a bump in the road, her head jerked backward, banging hard against the wall of the truck. She frowned, rather annoyed by this whole trip. Rubbing it pointedly, she tucked the letters safely back against her chest and rebuttoned her shirt. Her fears about this trip were no less apparent, but somehow, they'd taken a momentary back seat in her mind. Now, the main concern she had was getting sleep. She'd been up the entire night before, packing away her things, and the earlier nap she'd taken wasn't enough. Though her stomach lurched with an uneasiness, she closed her eyes and rested her head on the floor, curling up slightly to get comfortable. She didn't fear putting anyone else out, or having to make them move. They each had a considerable amount of space to their name, without getting in each others way.

Closing her eyes tightly, she allowed the thoughts of Logan she'd been attempting to foster to encompass her mind, promising herself she would not sleep for long. She wanted to think through this matter, and try to put her finger on exactly what it was that was troubling her. A part of her knew that she should stay awake and think on it now, but the other part of her argued that she would get nothing accomplished if part of her was preoccupied with thoughts of rest. Deciding then that the second half of her had a better arguement, she shifted slightly against the hard floor of the truck bed, and drifted off to sleep.

A loud slamming noise roused her from her reveries. Her lip instantly curled in disgust as the rauncy smell met her nostrils. Not exactly the type of wake-up call she'd been hoping for. Running her fingers through her thin, matted, greasy hair, she moaned and began to roll her neck some, getting all the kinks out of it. She'd fallen asleep sitting up again. For the past two months she'd done so, feeling somewhat more prepared for surprises that way. Sometimes, she just did it to make herself smaller, hoping she would disappear in the shadow cast upon the corner where she was, due to the night streaming in through the window.

Yes, there was a window, making her cell a room with a view. However, it was anything but pleasant, in more ways than one. First of all, the window overlooked the entire camp, with all its dreary branches. Long, thin brick buildings were everywhere, with people constantly moving in an out of them. Sometimes in, seldom out. She used to sit there, when they'd first arrived. She'd been a fool, believing then that, just like in the pictures, a handsome soldier would appear, an American soldier, and rescue her from this nightmare. Believing this wholeheartedly, she'd sat upon the little crevice made by the window jutting out slightly, and waited. And watched. German soldiers were constantly marching along behind a group of cowering, miserable looking bodies. That's all they were, bodies. You couldn't call them humans because their souls had been pulled from them too long ago.

The second pleasantry of the window was the fact that it brought into the cell another opening for bad air to enter. Stale air. Even when there was a slight breeze, there was no relief. Instead, the breeze succeeded in bringing with it the smell of all the carcasses from the mass graves constantly being dug over the hill. It brought with it the suffering, moaning cries of the people there with her. Feeling her pain. Knowing every thought going through her head, only because they were the same thoughts each and every person there were thinking.

In the evenings, the temperature in the cell dropped at least ten degrees. She'd learned this after a week or so, and slept against the wall nearest the window, to avoid the draft that wafted in at night. There was barely a difference in temperature there, but just knowing that it was slightly less cold was a little comfort to her. Comfort, at that time, was hard to find. Even thinking about Logan and days gone by brought no relief. Instead, they brought bitterness. She was angry with it all. Angry with him for not coming...for not taking her away from all this. She tried to rationalize...to tell herself that he would if he could, but it was no help. Eventually, though, when the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month, she even let go of the bitterness. She realized it wasn't providing the comfort she thought it had been. In the end it was doing nothing but worsening her already horrid situation.

Moving to crack her neck, she sighed in annoyance when the familiar piece of metal prevented her from doing so. She saw, on the brick wall beside her, a tiny light flickering green. She knew it meant that her collar was on. It was kept on at all times. It had taken her a good week or two to learn that the collar prevented her from using her mutant powers. After realizing this, she'd decided it was a good item to have, for the Germans anyway. She'd wondered, hearing about mutant concentration camps, as to how they kept the mutants under control. Now she knew.

Hanging her feet over the edge of her bed, she gave a short push with her arms and jumped to the ground. At least, that was her intention. Of course, after days without food, water, and exercise, her arms had deteriorated somewhat, leaving her far weaker than when she'd first arrived. And so, her attempt to land upright failed, as her legs crumpled in response to the weight being put upon them. Before she had time to pull herself up off the ground, she felt a heavy force push down on the back of her head, causing her face to dig further into the dirt ground. When the weight was at last removed, she pushed herself up on two wobbly arms and spit out the dirt that had gotten past her lips. Wiping some of it off her face, she turned to the offender. Had she more strength, she may have attacked the man. But, as it were, it would only bring about more pain. Lately, she'd learned that the best way to get back at these people was to act as though nothing mattered. Take the punches, take the insults, remain silent and still. Eventually, they moved on to others. They moved onto people who would cower and whimper and provide more of a show under their torturing.

Marie moved to say something, only to be struck rather hard across the face. For a moment, a bright light flashed in front of her eyes, then turned dangerously dark. She thought, just for a second, that she was going to pass out. But then her vision cleared and she felt herself being lifted off the ground. The first time they'd done this, she'd been terrified and confused. Now, she went passively, knowing what they wanted, and preparing to keep it from them. Keeping in mind that it was mostly a camp for mutants, she was able, fairly quickly, to know what they wanted. They brought her into the same small room everyday, and placed her in the same small wooden chair. Then, they would surround her, and remove the collar from around her neck. The first time this had happened, she thought she was being freed.

Remembering the surge of hope she'd felt that day, Marie dropped her head. The pain beating within her chest grew rapidly each day, some times to the point of suffocation. The endless taunting was always in the back of her mind, telling her that hope was pointless. That the people who came before her wouldn't be saved, and neither would she.

Walking down the small hallway of the women's barracks, Marie couldn't help but look around some. The walls were so close, she could reach out on either side and touch them. Just thinking about it made the cold shiver she knew she'd feel run through her. The walls just seemed to drip with death, and were empty, except for herself and the three soldiers there to escourt her. They seemed old, too, almost ready to collapse.

Entering the room that was to be their destination, she was shoved rather roughly toward a seat. She caught her footing rather quickly, surprising even herself, and kicked the chair away in defiance. A hand was raised to punish her act, when the tall man in the corner raised his own to hault it. Marie looked over at him through the strands of hair that had at some point fallen over her eyes. She remembered this man. He'd already hurt her once since she arrived here. It was the same man that held her down and forced another mutants powers into her.

She looked away at the thought, balling her hands into fists when she heard him chuckle. He'd laughed like that once before. Three weeks after she'd arrived. Every day they brought her here, removed the collar, then attempted to make her absorb another mutant's power. It didn't take long for her to know they wanted her to absorb as much as possible, for it would make her a useful tool in this war. And at that moment, remembering what Logan had said about the war ending soon, they were desperate for it. But she'd resisted at first. Her mental control was powerful then, as well as her stubborness. Still, after weeks without hardly any food, water, or any human contact outside of the three other women in her cell, she was being worn down. Her thoughts were scattered...some focused on the hospital and Logan, others thinking of life back home, leaving only a shred left for her to keep their attacks at bay. In the end, they'd succeeded. She'd pulled the woman's life and powers into her, pulling herself into a never ending nightmare and battle with her own mind. She was, of course, rewarded for "accepting" the powers with her first real meal in three weeks. She knew they were trying to get her to trust them. By being nice, offering her things that were kept from the others, they were trying to make friends. An 'I help you, you help me' situation. What's worse...she'd accepted it. She took the plate of food, knowing full well that there were thousands of others just like herself starving just outside those walls, and she ate every last bit.

Later that night though, she'd regretted it. She sank into a depression so deep she nearly lost herself to it. Curled up against the wall, she'd stayed there, shaking, whimpering, all but giving in. She would have stopped trying all together, had the psyche inside her not told her to keep fighting. She remembered the woman she'd absorbed. Tall, blonde, probably very pretty before all this had happened to her. Now she was barely a pile of bones. Her eyes...those were the worst. Filled with agony, fear, defeat. Marie remembered the letter from Logan. "You never look into their eyes, darlin'..." But she had. And she hated herself for it, because no matter how much pain she was feeling, she took upon herself that person's pain as well.

Giving in would have meant allowing the Germans to use her to hurt even more innocent people. Clinging to that thought, and that thought only, she'd survived the last month. She was able, presently, to stand straight as the tall man approached her, graciously picking up the chair and pushing down upon her shoulders until she sat. He was gentle, of course. He wasn't stupid enough to be harsh with her, as the others were.

Suddenly, the usually routine situation changed. He waved his hand, and the other soldiers left, leaving the two of them alone. Her collar had already been removed, but she made no move to escape. She was intrigued, because he was up to something, and she wasn't going to leave until she knew what it was. "You're a bright girl. So I believe the two of us can have a very sensible conversation, and reach a logical, fair, agreement." Raising an eyebrow slightly, her eyes followed his movements, as he took up a chair and sat across the table from her. His English was atrosious, the German accent so thick she could hardly distinguish his words. Still, it was easier than having to understand his German. "You're hesitant to join us. Why is that?" The question was ridiculous!

"Considerin' you are mah enemy..." She frowned, surprised at the changes her voice had gone through. It was rough, deeper, and barely audible. They didn't dare talk in the cells...not until they were sure any and every guard was out of sight. Even then they were cautious. Lately, however, the three women she was with had grown too weak to move, let alone speak. Her heart went out to them, seeing their suffering. They'd been there far longer than herself, though she knew their pain would be over soon. She'd tried tohelp them before, but her medical training could not combat the decay and starvation already setting in.

"Now, what makes us your enemy? The fact that our country is fighting your country? That does not mean you and I must be at odds."

"Helpin' you, is like helpin' Germany."

"You think on such a high level, Marie." Her eyes snapped up from the spot on the table she'd been staring at. Of course he'd know her name. They had detailed records on each and every one of them. She forced herself to calm down. Her breathing had become erractic, due to the anger that was growing inside of her. With the anger came the surge of power...not only her own, but the woman's she'd taken into her. "Helping me is like helping yourself."

"Ah'm not that selfish. Ah won't hurt people that have already suffered so much, just to keep myself out of it." He nodded briefly, running his eyes over her. His lips were pursed slightly in thought, his hands folded together on the table. He did not seem concerned, nor impatient by her lack of enthusiasm to help him. In fact, much to Marie's surprise, he looked almost pleased that she was resisting.

"No...I suppose you don't have much reason to betray your...friends. Not yet anyway. Contrary to your belief, Ms.Marie, we have been careful with you. We've not harmed you to a point, yet, where you could not recover. But I fear, if you continue this resistance, we may have to." Standing to his feet, he took his cane and knocked twice on the door to his left. The three soldiers from earlier returned, and re-fascined the collar to her neck. She stood erect, only her eyes following the man as he left the room. He uttered something in German, something she didn't hear, and didn't need to hear. She was taken from the room and moved to another empty room.

When the door shut behind her, and she was pushed into the center of the room, she knew precisely what was going to happen to her. And she was ready for it. She much prefered being beaten to being conned and persuaded. In such a condition as this, it was easier to handle the pain than it was to handle all the emotions you were feeling. There'd be times, later that evening perhaps, where she'd reconsider his offer, as she lay bloody and broken. But she'd be alone then, away from him, breaking down when no one could see. And somehow, by morning, she'd be able to compose herself, and once again refuse any "deal" he may suggest. And if there came a day when she awoke and still wished to agree to his plea bargain, then God help the soul who tried to stand in the way of her taking her own life. Because she'd rather rot in Hell than betray the people in the same nightmare as herself.

He was going to be sick. He'd done this a million times, or so it seemed, in the last few weeks, but it never got any better. Each time he had to wade through the floods of dried carcasses, he felt sick to his stomach, and cursed his healing factor for not including nausea to the long list of injuries it could heal.

He knew that wasn't it...not entirely anyway. True, it pained him to see how terribly thin the people beneath his feet were. What was even worse though, was that every time he looked into one of their faces, he could have sworn it was Marie. It lasted but a brief moment, but the impact was long standing.

It'd been almost a good two months since he'd heard about the Red Cross centers being over run, and their nurses taken captive. Since then, he'd joined with the group going from camp to camp to aid surivors, in hopes of finding Marie sooner. So far, after having been to at least six different camps, he was beginning to give up hope. None of the forms, dead or alive, was his Marie. He was beginning to hope he could find her, just so he could put closure to this whole situation.

As if to answer his plea, the man in charge of the group Wolverine was with called him over. He stood, wiping his sweat bombarded forehead and stalked over there. He kept his head high, looking anywhere but at the huddled masses of corpses strewn out over the land. Still, it was no use. His sensitive senses instantly picked up on the god-awful smell, indenting a permanent scowl of sorts into his features. "Yes sir?"

"Take a few men and go into the women's barracks. If we don't spread out soon, at least three forths of the people still alive will end up dead before we reach them." Offering nothing but a nod in reply, Wolverine called Scott Summers, Remy Lebeau, and two others that he hadn't really known much before now, and started toward the barracks.

The hallways were narrow...a nightmare to any claustrophobic. Even someone like himself who wasn't afraid of inclosed places could have trouble. The air was stuffy and cold, hanging heavily on his shoulders. The only sounds echoing through the place were the footsteps he and his soldiers were making. Logan faintly breathed, staring down at all the doors they'd have to enter in just a moment. "All right, you two, go that way." He pointed down the opposite hallway. "Each one of you take a side. Check for anyone still living." He waited for them to depart before turning back to a second hallway. "Lebeau, Summers, same for this hallway." After they departed he took the final stretch of rooms for himself, moving in and out slowly.

The women in there were a tragic sight. Most of the ones he came upon were already dead. Their stomachs all caved inward, clearly showing signs of starvation. Just then he remembered all the joy he'd taken in fighting people, killing people, and it wiped away the strength he had to hold up his head. He was not proud of himself for what he'd done, but he knew he couldn't change things. Not the past anyway. He could change himself for the future...but would it be enough?

"Wolverine!" He spun around and quickly exited the room he'd been in.

"What is it?" He was edging his way over to where the Cajun voice was calling him.

"I found one! She still alive!" He picked up his pace, jogging over to the room and entering slowly. It was darker than the other, for it was on the other side of the building, away from what little sun was showing. It cast a deep shadow on the form over which Remy was hovering.

"All right, get outta here. There're more rooms to check. Lebeau, take the hall I was doing. Summers, go get more help, then continue on with this one." Right as Scott began to depart, Wolverine grabbed him by his shoulder. "Get a medic in here, now." Not waiting for a response, Logan turned back to the poor creature before him. The last person on his mind at the moment was Marie, yet, upon closer inspection, that's exactly who it was. "Marie...?" Letting out a string of curses, he carefully took her face in his hands, after being sure they were gloved, and turned her face to look at him. She looked more a stranger to him now than when he'd first walked into the room.

Her face was covered in bruises...one lightly circling her left eye, one encompassing her jaw bone, and a third, surrounding her right cheek. Her eyes were slightly open, yet he knew she wasn't awake, nor was she dead. He ran his thumb gently over her lips, now turning a pale blue coloring due to lack of heat. The next minute, he shrugged out of his jacket and carefully pulled it around her. "L-Logan...?" She couldn't know how relieved he was to hear her speaking...

"Hey darlin'...you just hang tight. We're gonna get you help..." Her response was no more than a faint nod. Lifting her limp body into his arms, he was surprised at how much lighter she was than last time he'd held her. Surprised and horrified all at once. He was careful to hold down his emotions so that he didn't hold her tighter and possibly hurt her, as he made his way out of the barracks. The others he'd brought in had already returned and were weaving in and out of the rooms, some bearing good news, others not. He barely paid them heed. At the moment, he knew his destination, he knew how to get there, and he knew that he had to get there soon. That was all that was going through his mind at the moment.

Grabbing the nearest medic he could, he pulled him into the tent that Logan had set up to sleep in at nights. "You are going to stay here, and you are going to take care of her, do you hear me?" The raw desperation, mixed with blind hatred for the ones who did this to Marie so frightened the poor man before Logan that all he could do was nod. "I don't care what anybody says to you. If they try and tell you otherwise, you tell them to come talk to me about it...you got me?"

"Y-Yes sir." The man's eyes were wide as Logan, the same man who had all but lashed out at him in savagery, gently set the woman down upon the sleeping bags within the tent.

"Good." Taking one last glance at Marie, Logan climbed out of the tent and looked around. He didn't want to continue doing this. He wanted to stay in that tent and be the first thing Marie saw when she woke up. He wanted to hold her hand and brush the hair from her face and tell her everything would be all right because he was there for her, now and always. But he couldn't. Not in his right mind. He wasn't the only one with a lover who lay hurt, starving, and beaten because of this Nazi cruelty. It wouldn't be fair to sit back and care for his own needs when others were out there, huddled against the dead, shivering in the cold, waiting for salvation that may not come in time...

It was hours before he was relieved by a fellow officer. He was soaked to the bone, thanks to the rain that had started in at sunset. It seemed appropriate though, seeing as how the entire war was nothing but grim, that the weather should accompany the feeling. He hadn't thought about much of anything. He rather lucked having his mind numb, muddling through the routine of looking for any soul still alive. He alone had found thirteen, and hoped the others would be successful. Remembering Marie, and the dread that had washed over him at finding her so bad off, he almost refused to let someone else take over for him.

In the end, though, he'd rationalized and decided that, weary and preoccupied with other thoughts, he wouldn't be much help. Pulling out the heavy wool gloves he had, he was surprised to find they were still relatively dry. He pulled them over his frozen, shaking hands and rubbed them together. His toes had lost all feeling hours ago, and the rest of his body was threatening to follow suit. All he wanted to do was collapse in a tent and sleep for a few hours. He had to check on Marie first, though, and he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't want to leave her side again.

Pushing back the flap of the tent covering the enterance, he stooped down and moved inside. He was pretty angry to find that no one had stayed there with her, as he'd told them to. The last place anyone in her situation needed was to be left alone. He'd talk to someone about this later.

Pulling out a flint, he managed to light the candle beside her that had either been put out by the light breeze, or went out on its own. The light from the flame reflected against the wall of the tent, and slightly illuminated her face. After setting the candle aside where it couldn't be knocked over, he stooped down beside her. The bruises seemed to look a little better. Whether it was his imagination, and the fact that he just didn't want to think that she was bad off, or the truth, he wouldn't know. Keeping the heavy gloves on, now for protection against her almost uncontrollable mutant power, he slowly moved his hand against her cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb. "How could I let this happen...?" Something in him told him it wasn't his fault, that he had been too far away and too in the dark to do anything about this. Still, he'd wanted to do all he could to protect her. He'd warned her about the situations in other camps, and told her not to transfere to any of them. So why did she...?

He remembered that he hadn't had the chance to respond to her letters. Maybe that was the reason. Many not hearing from him had upset her to a point where she didn't care what would happen to her...maybe...

"Logan...?" Only when the form beside him began to move did he tear away from his guilt trodden thoughts.

"Hey..." He watched as she coaxed her eyes open, mentally adding some encouragement of his own. When her eyelids managed to get no more than a slight apart, he forced a tight smile as his heart fell slightly.

"Thought...Ah was dreamin' before..." She shifted some, in an attempt to get more comfortable, and he quickly aided her in it. He took a blanket off a pile beside her and covered her with it, noticing how her tiny, thin frame was shivering. The extra blankets he placed behind her head, enabling her to sit up comfortably.

"Been lookin' for you for two months darlin'..."

"Why...didn't you write me...?" He sighed some to himself, pulling the blankets up to just below her chin.

"I tried. Just...I couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say. But don't think about that now. Just rest. Within the next few hours, they'll have a medical transport here. They'll get you away from this...place and take you home where you'll get better." He saw her begin to protest, so he quickly continued on. "I can't go home with you. I need to stay and make sure the rest of the camps are liberated. After that, Marie, I'm packing up and heading home. By the close of the year, I'll be with you to stay. I promise."

"Forever...?"

"And a day." They sat in silence a few moments, Marie straining to breathe, Logan wishing he could take her pain upon his own shoulders.

"Did you...hear me...?"

"Hear you...? When, y'mean just now?"

"No...back...in Calais..." He looked away from her, staring at the wall of the tent, willing his mind to remember that time. Since he'd heard of Marie's capture, he thought of nothing but that time. Now, when he tried, it wouldn't come to him. The idea was there, but the details were hazy.

"What about Calais?"

"When...you asked me...to say it..." The remembrance of that day hit him so strong he felt as though he would go reeling backwards. He'd held onto her tightly, as though she were his only lifeline, and pleaded to hear it. She'd implied her feelings, even relayed them through actions, but unlike himself, she'd never said it. And as much as he wanted to ignore it, he always felt that was a sign that one day he'd lose her. Maybe that he'd turn around and walk away, and she wouldn't be there when he came back.

"I remember."

"Did you hear me...when Ah said it...?"

"Yeah..." The lie was hard to draw from his lips, but he did it. The realization that she'd said it and that he just hadn't listened hard enough brought the tears to his eyes. "Yeah kid...I heard ya loud an' clear." The relieved look that passed over her face was enough to bring forth a single tear from his eye. He was just grateful that the light in the tent was dim enough to hide such emotion. He never cried. He was strong...rough...able to handle anything without swaying. Now, with just one look, he was hurled into an array of emotions he'd never once felt before. It was altogether a new experience, and one which he wasn't too sure he was glad to feel.

"Ah was afraid...with tha storm an' all...you might not have..." When her body began to shudder he realized she was coughing.

"Easy Marie...don't try to talk too much right now. You just rest an' get better. Leave the talkin' to me." Once she'd calmed down and began to breathe regularly, she did as she was told. Leaning her head up against the makeshift pillows the blankets created, she looked into his eyes, listening to his stories of the war, and of all the camps, and how afraid he was to lose her. It was all true, he realized with a bit of surprise. The one thing that had kept him going the last two months was not anger and revenge, as it usually was, but blind, almost tangible fear. And it was the fear that he would lose her that made him need her all the more. For all his life, he'd had a void somewhere inside him that kept him from being whole. Her enterance into his life had filled that gap, and now he couldn't remember ever truly living without her. The threat of some force taking her away was enough to shock him into the reality that, without her, he wasn't sure who he was. Or even if he was something at all.

All of these thoughts clouded Logan's head for the remainder of the evening. Marie fell asleep at last, much to his relief, leaving him alone to sort things out. Stooping his head down to blow out the tiny, flickering flame, he stretched out beside her and stared up at the top of the tent, thinking about everything and anything that came to his immediate attention. Most of it was about Marie. About his future with Marie. About the life he wanted to have. A life separate from the war, from the past hatred and vengence that had, at one point, ruled his life, and had almost been an obsession for him. With all these thoughts to keep him company, Logan had little time to sleep. He realized quickly that he didn't want to. He wanted to stay awake, and be there for Marie in case she awoke again during the night. Much to his surprise, the weariness from earlier melted away, and the physical aches and pains that had plagued him disappeared, allowing him to do just that.

Relief for the wounded came all too soon. By the time the sun began to peek over the horizon, a medical transport had arrived on the scene. Logan left Marie sleeping soundly in the tent, going to speak to the medic in charge, ready to demand she be taken out of there first. After a few moments negotiation, and a little threatening on Logan's side, his wish was granted. Now all he had to do was get Marie into the truck and keep his feet planted as the truck drove away. It wouldn't be easy. He wasn't going to like watching her go, anymore than she would like actually leaving. Ducking back into the tent, Logan collected all the blankets Marie had kicked off in the night. He figured it was either a fever or a bad dream that made him do it. Either way, she would need them for the ride to the ship that would take her home. "Logan..."

"Easy, darlin'. Just take it easy." He carefully slipped a hand beneath her head, pulling the blanket up with his other hand and wrapping it around her face to keep her head warm. The rest of the blankets were wrapped around her carefully...not tightly enough to hurt her or cause discomfort, just tight enough to keep her warm.

"What's...happenin'...?" It pained him to see how miserable she was. Her face was three shades too pale, and her lips still reflected a pale blue coloring. It was then that he realized how badly she needed medical attention. He hadn't been aware of how truly bad off she was until he'd gotten a glimpse of her. The night before, he'd thought her wounds were clearing up. He saw now that it was only a figment of his imagination, and the thought of losing her pounded within his mind.

"The medical transports are here...they're ready to start back for the United States. It's just a short drive to the coast, and then you'll be home before you know it."

"Ah don't want to leave you...Ah already lost you once, what if-"

"Shhh..." He knew the feelings. Something deep in him wanted to take her into his arms and hold her so tightly no one could ever pry her away again. She was the one thing in his life he'd found time to truely care for. The last time he walked away, she ended up here. In a concentration camp. Any number of things could happen to her on the way to the coast...

He shook his head slightly and frowned. He didn't have time to be thinking on such things when there are a transport awaiting her arrival. "Listen, Marie...C'n you tell me your address?"

"Mah address...?" For a moment she was confused, then realization hit and she weakly whispered out the numbers and street name of her home. She fainted saw him, her eyes too blurry to make out details, and noticed he was writing her words down. He was serious about coming home to her, after all...

"Marie, the minute the last camp is freed, I'm going to get aboard the closest ship and come home to you..." He didn't realize, until then, that he was stroking her cheek gently. Her eyes swam with unshed tears, and only when they began to fall did he wipe them away. "Think you can work up a little control?" He watched her cock her head a moment, until he stooped down to get closer to her. He wanted to kiss her lips, to feel their warmth against his, but he knew it was safest not to. Instead, he planted a firm, yet soft kiss upon her forehead. Luckily, she'd managed to control her powers long enough for the caring caress, before feeling it slip away again. Sliding halfway out of the tent, Logan moved to get on all fours, trying to figure the best way to get Marie out of the tent without inflicting any pain. Sliding one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees, he managed to safely lift her up and out of the tiny space. He scooped down a moment to take hold of the extra blankets he knew she'd need, then placed them carefully atop her. "You just rest. Leave the medical stuff to these guys, all right?"

Reaching the truck that would take her home, Logan suddenly realized he was reluctant to give her up. Feeling her being pulled from his arms, he felt as though a piece of something inside him went with her. Maybe it did. "Ah love you, Logan..." They put Marie into the truck and closed the door before he was able to respond. Somehow, though, he knew he didn't have to. Marie already knew how he felt. At least, he hoped she did.

As the truck pulled away, Logan reached into his pocket and pulled the shriveled, torn piece of paper he'd used to take down her address. Mississippi. How bad could things be in Mississippi? Especially compared to the things he'd seen during the long course of this war.

Committing the numbers and street to memory, he shoved the piece of paper back into his pocket. By now, only the faint outline of the truck, trudging down the dirt road could be seen. The sun had risen, and Logan had to shield his eyes against it to get one last look. He remained that way until it was completely out of sight, then turned slowly and headed back inside, toward the camps, thinking only of the new beginning that was to come after this chapter in his life was over.

The house suddenly seemed so unfamiliar to her. She leaned over and pushed the curtains aside, glancing out the kitchen window into the front yard. The white picket fence that she'd helped her father build was still there, though another few coats of paint had to have been added over the years. There was a swing on the porch now, a gift from her relatives, no doubt. No, nothing seemed wrong there.

Moving away from the window she let her eyes run over the kitchen. She pictured herself at age six, standing on her tiptoes to wash her hands in the sink, just out of reach of the water. Her father would come over, scoop her up, and hold her until she was through splashing and making a mess. Her mother would shake her head, wiping up the mess with her apron, then getting back to work on breakfast. She'd ask Marie to call the boys for breakfast, and, leaping from her daddy's arms, she would do so. They were always so lazy, taking their time to get up. And none of them could begin breakfast until they did.

Marie sighed at the memory, looking elsewhere in the room.

The fire stove was still there. Her mother never did have the heart to get rid of it when it went out of style. Said it'd served her faithfully for twenty long years, and that it would go on for another twenty if she had anything to say about it. And she did. She missed them all too much. She'd felt as though she'd been walking through a stranger's home when she'd first arrived back here. The absence of her family made it feel more foreign than anything else. No warm smells of apple pie that her mother was so well known for. No more off-key singing from upstairs in the bathroom, while her father shaved his hairy chin. She even missed the sound of her two brothers constantly squabbling over one thing or another.

After being satisfied with the way she'd cleaned up the kitchen, she left it. It was almost haunting. Every room held an array of memories and details that she'd not noticed at the time. It was strange to her, the way she suddenly noticed the crackle of the fire, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Such trifle things. Yet they were what she suddenly held so dear.

The only thing, perhaps, that wasn't missing from the house was the family dog. Their neighbors must have looked after him after her mother and father died. When she'd left, he was but a small puppy. They'd found him wandering around and decided everybody needed a home, human and beast alike. He was older now, almost full grown, though he still had a few more years to live. He mainly occupied the rug before the fireplace, of course, she didn't blame him. It took a while to warm the whole house up. From what she'd heard upon her arrival, it'd been raining for three straight weeks there; certainly a rare occurence for the people of Mississippi.

Stooping momentarily to scratch the lazy mutt behind the ear, Marie allowed her weary self to fall upon a chair in the living room. It was no use going upstairs to bed. In the end, she would waste more time trying to sleep than actually sleeping. Of course, she couldn't help it. Every minute she closed her eyes she saw him. Felt his hand carefully moving over her cheek, saw the worried, pained look shooting through his eyes. It was the last thing she'd expected to see.

It made her feel a little guilty, seeing him there. She'd given up on him. There were even nights that she cursed him for not coming. Of course, she reminded herself that he had no way of knowing where she was, but it was easier to handle, when you had somewhere to lay the blame. And then he had the nerve to actually rescue her. Not only that, he put her on a transport and said good bye again. But he promised to come back. He promised he'd always be there for her, just as soon as the war was over.

She wondered then how many similar promises were made.

Promises to love someone forever, even before they knew the situations and circumstances up ahead. People shouldn't make promises. Because that just gives fate all the more reason to make sure they are broken. They're a challenge to mother nature and all other entities that control humans. She resolved never to make one again, not if she wasn't positive she could keep it.

Still...Marie couldn't help but hope he did mean it. There were rumors about soldiers, after all. Considering their past, as well as details from other stories she heard, she knew it was possible that he would never come. When a soldier was injured in battle, the most reasonable thing to do was flirt with a nurse. Logan certainly wasn't the first to move in on her. Just the most successful. It was a comfort to the men, she supposed, because it almost made them look charming and clever, anything but the weak creatures they truely were, due to their injuries.

Somehow, she knew he wasn't like that. Perhaps it was all the time she spent studying him. He wasn't an average man...the kind you see everyday on every street corner, in every state. He was quiet, angry...vengeful even. He had a past, but he would never speak about it to anyone, not in detail anyway. He felt the same as anybody else, of course, yet unlike everybody else she knew, he never relayed them. At least, that's what she thought, before she got to know him. That night...when he was trying to tell her how she felt...she saw in his eyes how hard it was for him to put into words. She knew that it was something he'd never said to anyone before. Many times, when you met a man and he proclaimed his love, he had it almost memorized, as though he'd said it a thousand times. Logan's proclamation was different. It was so confused and raw that she knew it had to be sincere.

She glanced out the living room window then, almost sensing his presence there. She expected to see him walking up the tiny walkway, up the steps of the porch, right to the front door. He'd shift on his feet a little, a nervous habit she'd noticed at once point in Calais. He'd clear his throat and crack his neck, then lift a hand and knock, a little hesitantly.

But when she gazed out past the rain, past the darkness that had just set in, she saw nothing. No Logan. No neighbors. No father, no mother, no brothers, nothing but emptiness. Her heart sank a little. She wasn't trying to fool herself. She knew how long his work in the war would take him. She knew it may even be another full year until she saw him again. But she also knew she'd wait. What else did she have to do? She'd wait a life time if she had to, just to see that rough, scarred form walk up the path to her home, to see her. In the meantime, she'd get ready for him. She already had plans to fix up her brothers' bedroom into something a little less immature for him. She couldn't very well have him staying in her room, and all the other bedrooms were going to be changed into other things. What, she wasn't sure yet.

She'd always had a dream of running a small physician's office somewhere. Perhaps she'd fix up the rooms and have a sort of in home service, so that the people in her small town wouldn't have to travel such long distances to reach help. Of course, in the end, she knew it probably wouldn't happen. Instead, she'll end up sewing, and just being a housewife. Maybe a midwife, if she were lucky. Female doctors were scarce then, still being looked upon as inferior. But perhaps one day...

A crash of lightning broke her from her reveries. The poor dog yelped and ran for the couch, slipping beneath it, leaving his back end out, tail flopping around some. She giggled and quickly moved to close all the windows she had opened at some time in the day. On her way past the kitchen table, she noticed a stack of letters upon it. After securing the window and covering it with the blind, she picked them up and sifted through them. Most were letters of apology, she knew, and decided it best not to read them now. She was still quite pained at being in her home by herself. One letter, however, struck her fancy, and she quickly opened it and carried it into the parlour and under a candlestick. She always liked to read by candlelight...it made the stories seem all the more romancing and enticing.

The letter was from Robert Drake, the young man she'd tended to right before her transfer. She smiled, reading about his return and of his fiancee. She had written a response when she'd first arrived back in American, which is how he had gotten the home address. He wanted to remind her of the wedding and give her a final date. It was to be in the spring. Six months away. In Long Island, a rather long journey from Mississippi. Still, she would like to see him again, and meet this Jennifer he was always talking about. It seemed as though Marie already knew her, what with everything Robert had told her in the time they were together.

Folding up the letter, she placed it on the desk beside the candle. She would have to respond tomorrow, when she was less weary. She would tell him she was coming, and mention Logan as well. If he did return in time, they could go together. If not, she could always explain to Robert that he had business with the war that was, as of late, still unfinished.

Realizing just how late it was, as well as how tired she was from all the cleaning she'd accomplished that day, she decided it best to go to bed, and finish things in the morning. She would plan out Logan's room, and make a list of the necessities. Perhaps, then, the following day, she could go out and find the required materials and furniture for the task. Due to the events while in the concentration camp, she had the strength to do the task herself, which she was grateful for.

But for now it would have to wait. She managed, surprisingly, to pull herself up the long, winding staircase and up to her room. It hadn't been changed at all. Some things had been exactly where she'd thrown them, the day she was packing for the medical schooling. It was surprising to her, that her parents had left everything the same, especially since her mother had such a fury when their rooms were even slightly out of place. It was a mystery best left unsolved, at least, for the time being.

Kicking off the slippers she'd been wearing, Marie sat on the bed, then slipped her feet and legs beneath the blankets. Melting from the warmth, she pulled them up to her chin and closed her eyes, hoping to fall into a deep sleep, filled with dreams of Logan, and how their life would be once he returned. If he returned...

God he wanted to see her. Three months had gone by. Three months of toting around carcasses, rounding up the remaining survivors, and altogether tying up any loose ends in Europe. It had been long, hard labor, and he was glad to see it go. Returning to the United States was quite a change. The first thing he'd done once he reached his home was shower. The grime had collected, and had to be a good three layers thick. His hair had grown far down past his ears, curving close around his chin. His whiskers weren't much better, making him look a good twenty years older than he ought to. In short, he was a mess. Normally, that didn't bother him, but if he wanted Marie, he had to at least pretend to be presentable.

He contemplated going to someone else for a hair cut, then decided against it. Afterall, it couldn't be too hard to cut hair. He never was one for style either. He'd be happy, so long as the hair was out of his eyes. Somehow, by a miracle perhaps, he'd managed to get it looking like it had before he left for the war. The beard was the next thing to go. Smothering shaving cream of sorts over his chin, he remembered the day Marie first gave him a shave. Ended up with twenty five knicks in all. It was the worst shave of his life. She claimed to have had two btoerhs and a father, and that she'd shaved each one every morning before they went off to their respectable jobs. He raised an eyebrow, chuckling to himself, and wondering if each one of them had wandered off to work with a handful of little pieces of tissue stuck to each cut to stop the bleeding. Grabbing hold of a nearby towel, he dried his face and habitually ran a callosed hand over the area in question, grunting slightly in approval. Wasn't the best shave he'd had, but then, he was in a hurry. There was a train heading to Mississippi in two hours, and he intended to be on it. He'd made her wait three months, and even though another hour or two wasn't much, he didn't want to put her through that.

He had, on the way over to America, thought about Marie, and of her home in Mississippi, and of his promise to return to her. She'd never said anything about waiting for him. It was just something he'd assumed she would do. Now, pulling the address out of the worn pants he'd once put it into, he was starting to wonder if she would. What would he do if he went to find her, only to discover the house belonging to someone else? What if she grew too impatient, and married some rich Harvard graduate? He was no bundle of talent and promise, not even close in fact. So why should she stick around? The fact that he'd saved her life wasn't an issue. In a way, she'd saved his too. She'd pulled him from the depths of his own self pity and self loathing and made him into something new. True, he couldn't really feel anything changing in him, but he knew something was happening to him. For God's sake, he'd woken up that morning humming. Him. He hardly believed it. Of course he didn't need to wonder what was making him do it, but still...

Moving into his room, he grabbed the stack of clothes he had that almost looked presentable, and put them into the nearby suitcase. He'd even ordered a suit to be made, God knows why. He knew he'd end up wearing it when he reached her home. Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and had to chuckle. No more dirt smearing his cheeks...no more scowl, no more frown. He wondered if Marie would even recognize him like this...

He'd have to wear his uniform instead of the suit. For some silly reason, he'd convinced himself that that was the way Marie met him, and that it was the way Marie would truely know him. Closing up the suitcase, he took a good look around himself.

There wasn't any point in saying good bye. The house had never really meant much to him...probably because he was never in it very long. Most of the time he was moving about from camp to camp, and only came back to his cabin when on leave. Still, it was peaceful out here, and that part of it he knew he'd miss. There'd be nights, wherever he was, years from now, when he'd think about this place and wonder if anyone took it over, or if it got knocked down. And he'd shake his head and decide it'd be a shame if they did. And then he'd forget about it for another couple of years.

Pulling his officer's hat from off the coat rack, he placed it atop his head and opened the door. It was dark out, and he could faintly hear a train whistle. If he didn't hurry, he'd miss it. And something in him told him that if he did, he may not have the courage to catch the next one.

In the end, he managed to reach the train station just as it was giving it's last call for boarders. He hestitated a moment before handing over his luggage and showing his ticket. This was it. No turning back now. He was going to Mississippi to find the woman he loved, and hoped she'd be there when he got there. He realized, sitting down in his box, that maybe he should have informed her that he was coming. Give some sort of a warning. He wasn't sure how she would take him just showing up on her doorstep, his entire past packed away into one big suitcase.

As the train lurched forward, Logan allowed his mind to wander. Mainly he lingered on the different scenarios that might play out the moment he reached her home. Would she be happy? Miserable that he had taken so long? Would she even remember him...

God, it'd been three months, not three years. Of course she wouldn't have forgotten him. He was trying to be logical and rational but in the end all he was doing was building up a ball of nervousness in the pit of his stomach. He'd never even thought about doing something like this. He was the sort of man who scoffed the others when they carried photographs of their ladies in their pockets and endlessly told and retold the story of how they'd met. With Scott, it'd been at college. Bobby, in high school. And him? Bloody and bruised in a hospital. Dammit, everything about the two of them being together was different. How they met, how they acted together. They even had to keep their feelings a secret from everybody. What kind of a life was that?

He tried to remind himself that things were different, now that they were back in America. They could build a life together. Maybe even start a family. He couldn't really see himself as much of a husband, let alone a father to boot. But he'd try. He'd give it his best, and then some, if it meant growing old alongside Marie. She was his salvation, and he'd be damned if he let her slip away on account of he didn't know how to be anything other than Sargeant Wolverine. Maybe she could teach him...after all, she'd already set a few things rolling that made him hate the way he'd been, and made him want to change. So long as the want was there, the rest should all fall into place.

Logan busied himself momentarily by looking out the train window. It'd be a long time before he reached her...two days at the very least. He wasn't sure how he'd remain patient for that long. He just hoped that the train didn't encounter any technical difficulties along the way, or else someone was going to get gutted, guilty or not.

Resting back against the seat, he closed his eyes. As usual, the face of Marie staring back at him, eyes bright, lips curved up slightly in that cocky, "I know something you don't know" way she always seemed to possess. She had an eyebrow raised, before her eyes lowered and looked him over. She spoke, though he didn't hear the words clear enough to understand. She did have a thick, Southern accent, however. It was heavier than it had been in Europe, probably because she had had three months to build it back up.

Somewhere in the midst of his daydreaming of sorts, he drifted off to sleep. Each possible scenario played out in his head. Some brought comfort, others, like the ones where she turned him away, or showed up at the door with another man standing protectively behind her, brought grief. It killed him not to know what was to be expected the day she opened the door to find him there. Of course, as always, fate dealt him the one hand he never even saw coming...

The train station was unusually full for this time of year. She set her suitcase down beside her and pulled on her coat, grateful that she had decided to bring it along after all. The winter was unusually harsh on Mississippi this year. True, it wasn't so bad as up North, will all that snow, but there had been unusually strong, cold wind gusts as of late, making living conditions difficult on all of them.

She rubbed her arms to keep warm, watching as the latest train pulled in. No doubt it was full of people wanting and hoping to escape the terrible winter, only to find that it was no better off here. She watched the doors move open, and saw a great flood of people getting out. For a moment she allowed her eyes to scan the crowd, foolishly believing that she would see him among the people. Once, she actually thought she did, and was about to approach when she realized she was living a silly fantasy, and stopped herself. She'd read that most of the soldiers had returned home from war three months ago. Perhaps he was among them. Perhaps he was just taking time to figure out things where he lived before he came to get her. Or perhaps just didn't want her anymore. All of them were logical situations, and ones that she was content to believe. It was possible, after all, to fall out of love in time. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Marie." That's what her grand mother said. Her grandmother, of course, had never been in love before.

Yet it was true. Every day that went by without bringing Logan to her doorstep made her heart ache a little more. It grew unbearable, sitting on the porch swing, curled up with a hot drink and a book, every few seconds glancing up when a shadow cast upon the walk way. Soon, it became too hard to live there. To wait, suffocating under the silence and the loneliness. Oh, she would always wait for Logan...she wasn't leaving for forever. Just...until her heart was mended a little.

Which is why she accepted her grandmother's invitation to come stay with her for a time. It would be just the thing she needed. The woman was growing so old now...she was having trouble taking good care of herself. So Marie would go, and play the polite nurse to her, and get so tied up in distractions she wouldn't even have a moment to miss him. At least, that was her plan. Of course she knew her grandmother would ask her about any particular men in her life. And she would say there was one...that he was coming for her any day now. And she'd make up stories about him and please her, and then change the topic and never mention him again.

She caught a glimpse of an army hat, and paused in her tracks. It seemed almost familiar to her...but no. It couldn't be. Shaking her head, she picked up her suitcase and handed it to the man packing the luggage car. Afterward, she took hold of the hand that offered to pull her up into the train. Still feeling slightly uncomfortable about not approaching the man, she turned, eyes darting one last time over the groups of people moving in and out, trying to break free of the crowd. She caught sight, only for a moment, of the hat, bobbing along, and the form roughly pushing people out of his way. And then it was gone. Closing her eyes and letting out a shakey breath, she turned and moved onto the train to take her seat, all the while telling her that leaving was for the best.

Stepping back, away from the door upon which he had just knocked, Logan let out the deep breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. Moving his sweaty palms down his pantlegs, he wondered what exactly he was going to say to Marie when she opened the door. Of course, he pictured her clearly, red hair falling down over her shoulders, white streak gently cradling against her face. She'd cock her head and smile, scolding him for taking so long to return to her. The bruises that had scattered about her face would be gone, leaving only the soft, pale skin he remembered. She'd have gained weight, no longer having the painfully thin waist he remembered her having the day he pulled her out of the room in the concentration camp.

It never occured to him, in his musings, that she might not answer the door...that she might not be home. His foolish mind must have held the belief that she would be sitting upon the couch, watching out the window, waiting for his arrival. Hell, if that were the case, he wouldn't have needed to knock, because Marie would have been on her feet and running to greet him, throwing her arms about his neck and causing him to release his suitcase to get a good hold on her.

When the door still remained closed, Logan's half grin that had been fixed upon his face began to fade. His eyes scanned over the wood, then fell upon the handle, waiting for it to turn. But it never did. Kicking his suitcase in frustration, Logan leaned against the front of the house, holding his face in his hands, trying to come to some conclusion about all this. She wasn't home. She could have gone to the grocery store, or to the mall to buy a new outfit...No matter what he thought, it didn't settle right. Something deep inside him knew that she was gone, and that she wouldn't be back for a short time.

Suddenly, he saw through parted fingers that someone was walking up the short sidewalk. She was tall, about Marie's height. Had the same red color hair. He'd started for her, thinking it was his Marie, until he realized that the white streak that helped her stand out around others was missing. Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned away from the person, wanting nothing to do with her, and picked up his suitcase. He'd tried. There was no more he could do. "Hey, you..." The woman called out to him, her voice faintly ragged. "What're you doin' here?"

"Just came by to see..." Unable to finish, he simply pointed to the door. He figured if the woman was coming to this house, she must know who owned it. It wasn't like people to go to stranger's doors, not anymore anyway.

"Oh...well...she just left..." Just left...he'd just missed her...

"Where was she headed?" He felt odd, remaining on the porch, while the woman remained on the ground, so he moved, leaving his suitcase where it was, and went down to where she stood. "And how do you know her?" Letting out a hearty laugh, the woman stuck her hand in Logan's direction.

"Ah'm Caroline, her neighbor. Well...Ah live three houses down actually..." After Logan shook her hand, she took the liberty of pulling him slightly further away from the house, so that she could point out to him exactly where she lived. He grunted some in recognition, trying not to be rude, but finding quickly that it was the only attitude he seemed to know well. The woman seemed to pick up on his slight annoyance, perhaps by his impatient stance, and quickly dropped her hand from his to explain. "She asked me to watch her house for a while. 'Said her grandma was feelin' a little under tha weather, so she was gon' go take care of her for a while."

"When's she planning on coming back?"

"Well...Ah can't really say. Wait just a minute...Ah reckon Ah know who you are!" Caroline's eyes lit up, and she quickly looked him over, shaking her head and laughing again. "You must be that fella' she's been waitin' for all this time."

"Waiting for...?"

"Yes, oh you must be, you've got tha uniform an' everythin'! Mah goodness, but she was right when she said you were handsome!" All the attention really wasn't as flattering as Caroline must have thought. He didn't know asking a few questions around here could get you caught into a tiresome, long conversation. If that was true, the minute Marie came home, he'd have her up and packing, and they'd move somewhere where the people around you really couldn't care less about your business. "She should be back within the end of tha month. She's got a weddin' t'get to."

"Wedding?" He tried not to snap, but he couldn't help it.

What exactly had Marie been doing while he was away...

"Good heavens, you'd think Ah was talkin' 'bout her weddin'! Goodness me, you are a jealous one, ain't you? Ah dare say..." Suddenly, her face lit up again, and she had both of Logan's hands in her possession. "Ah have just the BEST idea ever! Why don't you look after tha place for her?" Before he could disagree, she had linked arms with him and was pulling him toward the front door. "Sure, it'd be a swell idea! And a right good surprise too, Ah say. Why, just imagine, when she comes home, an' sees you sittin' right nicely on her couch...ooh won't she just die!"

Sometime during her babbling, she'd let him go long enough to pull a key out of her handbag. "Now you just pick up your suitcase an' Ah'll show you around." For some reason, he did as he was told. Something in him decided that this might be a good idea after all. He could get acquainted with the town and house where she lived, so that he'd be settled by the time she returned.

"Wait a second...that wedding you mentioned...if it wasn't hers, whose was it?"

"Oh, Ah don't right remember...some youngin' she looked after durin' tha war Ah believe." Drake. So he'd lived through the surgery and moved on after all. He'd thought about that kid more than once in the time when he was in the camps. He sure wasn't dealt the best of hands, but it seemed as though he played them all the same. "Gracious saints alive! Oh mercy, Ah forgot all about dinner!" Dropping the house key onto the kitchen table, she smiled apologetically at Logan and shrugged her shoulders some. "Ah meant to be but a minute. Just came t'feed Baxter, but Ah imagine you could do that, can't you? Of course you can. Now, if you need anythin', you just give a holler. Ah'm just three doors away, you remember?" Not waiting for an answer, she scurried out the front door, closing it tightly behind her.

Logan let out a deep breath and rubbed his temple some. How in the world did someone have enough air in their lungs to talk so fast without taking a breath in the process? Not bothering to figure out, he set his suitcase down on a chair and looked around.

Everything was practically spotless. A small, white apron hung from the back of one of the chairs surrounding the table. He knew it was hers, mainly by the smell that still radiated from it.

The rest of the house was pretty much the same. The only surprise came when Logan turned into the living room in time to see a large mutt running at him, tongue hanging out, tail wagging wildly behind him. Logan held out his hands, muttering something to the dog to get him to stop, and quickly started backward toward the kitchen. It was no use, however. The dog was bigger and more powerful than he looked, and soon had Logan on the ground, licking like there was no tomorrow.

Despite how ridiculous it was, Logan found himself laughing. A real laugh. He hadn't done anything like that in a long time. He managed, finally, to push the brute off him and sat up to wipe the slobber off himself. "You must be Baxter. Bet you're pretty hungry, huh?" Scratching him behind the ears, Logan walked about the kitchen, looking in cupboards for his food. It was only when Baxter sat in front of one that he found it. Lugging the heavy bag up onto the counter, Logan, unable to find a dog dish anywhere, just resoluted to pouring the food into a normal bowl, silently praying it wasn't any of that expensive china stuff.

After the dog was content with his dinner, Logan set out to find something for himself. He hadn't eaten since before leaving for Mississippi, with the exception of a small portion of the scraps they attempt to pass off as food. Still, it seemed Marie had cleared out the shelves before she went on her trip, which was a logical step to take, especially if she was planning to be gone for some time.

Luckily, the sound of his stomach growling was drowned out by a pounding on the front door. "Yoo hoo! Neighbor!" Inwardly, he groaned, looking at Baxter for some help. He whimpered a little and, tail lowered, ran into the living room, where Logan could see him sneak under the couch. Smart dog. Ignoring the woman outside the door was out of the question, what with her pounding and calling for him. "Ya'll still in there?" Rolling his eyes slightly, he made his way over to the door and opened it for her.

The sharp smell of a home cooked meal hit his nose, and for a second he could feel his mouth water. "Ah thought you'd taken to bed already, what with the long trip an' all. Ah hope you've settled in all right." Noticing that Logan's eyes hadn't raised from the pot in her hands, she let out a shrill giggle and pushed her way into the house. "Ah thought you might be a little hungry, so Ah fixed ya somethin' nice for supper." He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, after having shut the door again, wondering if there was anything he could do to help, but not having a clue how to go about it. Lucky for him, Caroline seemed to notice his confusion. "Now, don't you worry 'bout a thing, darlin'. You just get on upstairs and unpack your things. Marie fixed up a room right nice for you, second one on the left...right next to hers if Ah'm right."

Glancing up at the stairs a moment, he realized he hadn't been up that way yet. Pulling his suitcase up from off the chair where it'd been, he muttered another thank you of some kind and stomped up the stairs. He found the room well enough, and was pretty amazed at how nice it'd come together. Fit for a man. He wondered how long it took Marie to put all this together. It seemed like pretty hard work, and would have taken him at least a month to make a room look this respectable. Of course, he was a man, and therefore had no sense in decorating of any kind, so in truth it would have taken him longer.

Sitting on the bed, he noticed a piece of paper on the dresser beside him. Curious, he picked it up, only to be met with the familiar handwriting. Scanning over the words, he realized Marie probably didn't intend for him to read this, and that she just hadn't had time to throw it away.

Dearest Logan,

It's been three months now. Three long, hard months. I did a lot of things while I waited for you to come find me. Cleared up this room for you. I hope you like it. It used to be my brothers'. Now, with them gone, as well as my parents, it seemed fitting that it should belong to you. For now, only, of course. It only took me a month and a half to finish everything, though I'm still looking for little things to add to the room's charm everytime I go out.

I don't know what to think sometimes. Since the first day I arrived here, I keep waiting, straining to hear someone coming up the walk. Every time I hear it, I picture you coming to me, and I rush to the door in hope. But it's never you. Mainly, it's Caroline. She's always bustling about one thing or another. Since meeting you, I began to look around me again, and think of my life the way you would. I know you wouldn't like Caroline. She's too much like Betsy, with her cheery attitude and her constant gossip that used to make both our heads turn.

I'm starting to wonder if there's a point in holding onto the past. You've been gone a long time, but I've been without you for longer. Still, for some reason, now is more trying than ever. The ache that I feel everytime a day goes by without seeing you has grown considerably from day to day. I try not to think on it...to do things that will occupy me until you get here. Mother always used to say, an idle mind is the devil's workshop. I suppose that's true. I'm letting doubts seep in, even though there's no reason to.

Do you ever think this way? Maybe you're sitting there now, thinking about what it will be like when you come to see me. Will I be happy, will I cry? Things like that I suppose. I don't know what else there is to say. It seemed to me I had a purpose for sitting down to write this letter, but now it seems as though it's only use is to take up time and soak up more of my fears. Regardless of if I convince myself to send this or not...i suppose it's only fitting to end it.

I love you Logan...Always. Regardless of what may come between us.

Yours,
Marie.

Unsure of what he should do with the letter, he just tucked it away in the dresser drawer for the time being. He was pretty surprised at its' contents, yet at the same time, felt nothing. He'd hurt her. Badly. He could have written her and told her that it would be just a while longer before he could come home to her. He could ease her troubles and give her a sort of time period that she could hope to see him in. Instead, he'd been careless again, and left her with nothing. No wonder she'd found it necessary to go away. What he feared most, however, was the thought that kept resounding through his head. "What if she stays away forever?"

Dinner with Caroline wasn't nearly as painful as he'd expected it to be. She did...99 percent of the talking, which he certainly wasn't about to complain about. He wasn't much of a talker, but for some reason, he enjoyed just listening. It could have been due to the way Caroline told stories, always moving her hands and switching tones, and the way her face lit up and her facial expressions were so dramatic. He guessed, though, that it had a great deal to do with the fact that she was talking about Marie.

"Mah goodness! She was always such a handful when she was little! She'd insist on wearin' overalls, and her hair was never not in pigtails. And that mouth of hers was always movin'!" She laughed, pushing her chair away from the table and picking up their plates. He moved to help, but she clucked her tongue at him, signaling him to stay put, which he did. "She was a right little tomboy if evah Ah saw one."

"Did she love often?" Bringing over two steaming mugs of coffee, Caroline looked at him thoughtfully before sitting down.

"Ah don't believe she evah gave herself the chance to, honestly. She was always hangin' around with them boys, of course, which makes it all tha harder. They saw her as one o' them, someone to fool around with and get into trouble with. An' it was the same for her. Love with any one of them was never an' option. Besides, ev'ry boy she was friends with was friends with her brothers. An' they used to torment any boy to get close." Logan felt his lips curl up some, picturing Marie with her olden day pigtails and overalls on, rolling around in dirt and generally making mischief. Maybe that time was what put the sparkle that he'd seen in her eye. "How exactly did you two meet? Not that she didn't tell me ev'ry word! It's just bettah t'hear it from a man's point of view, y'know what Ah mean?"

"Ye-"

"Of course you know what Ah mean. You're a bright man, Ah know. An' a general too. You know, Ah told that girl ev'ry day since she came home that she shoulda dragged you right on home with her, stead of lettin' you get away like that."

"She didn't-" He sat up, attempting to get a word in edgewise.

"Course she said you'd come back. Mind you though, Ah had my doubts." Shutting his mouth, Logan grinned slightly and leaned back in the chair, holding the warm cup of coffee and settling in for another long tirade. The only thing that'd kept her from running off like this before was the fact that she was shoveling food into her mouth. "No offense of course..." When he shook his head to dismiss the idea that he'd been offended, she continued on with her speech of sorts. "Y'see, it's just...well...you know what army men are like! Throwin' their love around like it's yesterday's jelly." Yesterday's jelly? If he'd been able to get her attention and stop her from going on, he would have asked her where such a stupid catch phrase had come from. Needless to say, he never did get the chance.

"Mr.Logan, you're a fine man though..." It seemed in his musing of her odd phrases he'd missed the entire reasoning behind why Miss.Caroline hated army men so. "You'll do her right proud, Ah say."

He paused a moment, cup just below her lips, and he watched as her gazed crawled over him. It made him a little uncomfortable, knowing that he was being sized up, but he really didn't want to say anything. Instead he raised an eyebrow in question. "You'll make a fine husband indeed."

"H-Husband...?" He'd almost spit out the coffee he'd just taken a drink of. It wasn't that he didn't love Marie, nor that he didn't want to be with her for forever...he'd just never taken the time to think about making things official between the two of them. True, marriage wasn't anything overly difficult, but it led to children and family and...things altogether too complicated for Logan. He was a simple man. He liked things to be easy.

"Of course! You don't expect to just move in with her and remain together separately, do you?"

"Miss.Caroline, might you get me a little more coffee?" He watched her face light up as she practically leapt off her chair to satisfy his need. Good ol' Southern hospitality. Not only that, but it gave him the chance to change the subject back to just Marie. "So...where's this grandmother she went to visit?"

"Ovah in Oklahoma. Her grandmother and grandfather had a farm set up out there, cows, chickens, goats, pigs, horses, whatevah you c'n think of that would be on a farm. It's a beautiful place...surrounded by weepin' willah's an' a little pond some ways back in tha woods. Marie an' Ah used to visit when we could. Built a nice little tree house in tha tree right next to tha house...Ah wonder if it's still there..." Resting her chin in her hand, Logan watched her stare off for a moment or so, before she snapped out of the obvious revere she'd been in and laughed. "Good Lawd, Ah've been doin' that so much lately. That evah happen to you? You just stare off for a moment an' suddenly you're in a whole new place!"

"Can't say that I have..."

"Well...it's always nice t'go somewheres else for a while."

"You said that farm was in Oklahoma?"

"Yes sir!"

"Do you know which part?" Slowly, an idea was forming in his mind. She was to be staying with her grandmother no shorter than a month, which gave him plenty of time to get there and catch her before she headed to Long Island for Drake's wedding.

"Now...let me see...she left a piece of paper 'round here somewhere with all that information written on it!" With a sudden fervor, Caroline began to bustle about the kitchen, opening cupboards, closing cupboards, then finally realized the note from Marie was taped onto the refridgerator. "Here we are..." Mumbling a little to herself, he saw she was skimming over the jist of the letter to find the desired information. "Ah yes! Here it is. Telephone number, address, everything you need is right there." Logan took the piece of paper she offered to him and let his eyes wander over the words. Marie's hand writing...he still had every letter she'd written to him, tucked safely away in his suitcase. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he read them every night before he went to sleep, in hopes of dreaming about her at some point during the long night.

"Thanks..." Nodding his head slightly to confirm that the ideas brewing in his head would become reality soon, he tucked the piece of paper into his pocket.

"Good luck, Mr.Logan. If you'd be so nice as to inform me of when you're leavin' for Oklahoma..." He raised his head to look at her, then half grinned when she winked at him and tapped her head. "Women's intuition." To that he chuckled, agreeing completely. Women always did have a way of knowing the unspoken as well as the spoken. "Ah'll stop by tomorrow...make you a nice breakfast before you head on out."

"Thanks..." One thing he decided he liked about the South...they had as big an appetite as he did.

Playing the gentleman and helping Caroline with her coat, and handing her the dishes she'd brought with her, Logan walked her home, even if it was only three houses down. The night air was cool, and the stars were out, causing him to tilt his head upward and glance at them. When they reached Caroline's door, he buried his hands in his pockets and offered her his trademark grin. Much to his surprise, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Go get her, Mr.Logan. Make things right."

"I'll do what I can." Logan watched as Caroline slipped into her home and shut the door behind her before going back to Marie's home. He had to admit, he'd gotten used to the lady, despite her boisterous, loud attitude, as well as his other first impressions of her.

Closing the door to the home, he laughed slightly to see Baxter out from under the couch. "Don't worry, the coast is clear." Stretching his back slightly, Logan yawned and decided it best if he went to bed. The planning for his upcoming trip to Oklahoma would have to wait until the morning. Right then he was too tired to concentrate on anything of importance, with the exception of the bed that was awaiting him upstairs.

Peeling off his shirt, he chuckled, watching the stupid mutt slink in the cracked open door, then pulled the blankets over his head and tried to sleep, forgetting for the moment that he always read Marie's letters before to ensure good dreams, rather than nightmares. Thinking of seeing her again, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

For a good long while, she did nothing more than take in the contemplation of her hands. Her fingernails were caked, under and on top of, with dirt, none of which was removable, no matter how much washing she'd attempted. She had long fingers, which she used to keep busy by sliding them over piano keys. When she was younger, it was the sole activity that could keep her entirely engulfed for hours. Perhaps that is why her mother had generously paid for so many lessons. If it kept Marie quiet, and out of the way for a few hours, then it must have been a good idea in the end.

Another, closer inspection proved that she had taken up the poor habit of biting her fingernails again. As a child, when she would attempt to do so, her teachers would tap on her hand with a ruler and remind her that biting nails was not for little ladies. She giggled at the thought of it, remembering especially her second grade teacher. The woman never went without a bun in her hair and a particularly ugly pin latched onto her blouse every day. Even when Marie spotted her outside of school, she looked exactly the same.

She wondered for a moment only what became of all those people of her past. They seemed nothing more to her now than ghosts, drifting into and out of the present to bid a hello before disappearing into the confines of her memory once more.

She took another moment to raise her eyes to the mirror, to exam the pretty face that stared back at her. On the outside, Marie appeared to be happy. Her cheeks remained the same pale coloring, but a light pink tinge had worked its way in to provide her with a little coloring. Her hair had grown considerably, down to her shoulders or so it seemed. The white streak remained, curving inward to cup her cheek in its softness. The only thing that remained the same to her were her eyes. Everything had remained the same there. No amount of time away from home was going to remove the glint of disappointment. The sadness that deepened each day.

Shaking her head, Marie stood to her feet and began to pull her hair into two small pigtails. Once that task was completed, she pulled a red checkered kerchief over her hair to ensure none of it fell into her face while she was working. There was nothing more annoying than being elbow deep into hay and things, then having to stop to push the hair from your eyes. The apron was pulled on next, tightly around her thin frame. Her grandmother commented daily, telling her that she needed to put some meat on her bones. Marie would smile sweetly and promise to eat more, but in truth, all she ever accomplished was poking at her salad and pushing the rest of her food around on her plate.

Her mind, as always, was elsewhere that morning. As she stepped out into the morning sunlight, Marie stopped a moment to admire the sunrise. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept her from packing up and moving home. You didn't see it like this...out in the open, clear as day. It warmed her heart, and gave her hope.

Once the sunrise ceased to hold her attention, she made her way to the barn where a good number of hungry animals made their complaints known to the world. "Ah'm here, Ah'm here!" Shaking her head, she pulled up a bucket and began to fill it with chicken seed, all the while turning on a spicket to fill up a larger bucket with water for the cows and the horses. She was lucky she'd taken to the animals so quickly. Other than the few times she and Caroline had visited, her animal knowledge rested solely on being able to feed Baxter, a task not nearly as time consuming as running an entire farm single handedly.

Though, she wasn't entirely alone with the enormous job. On occasion, the farmhand next door would come over and give her a hand. His name was...Sean Cassidy. He'd just moved here not long ago, and was willing to do a few chores here and there in exchange for a meal or two. Though, Marie couldn't understand why anyone would come over with the intent to get some of her cooking out of it. It wasn't nearly as good as her grandmother's, and her mother's....well...she was getting there.

Once the chickens were satisfied with their bits of seed and other added treats, Marie lifted the heavy buckets of water with ease and brought them over to the cows' trough. In one swift movement, she dumped the water in, watching it course down the way, ensuring water for each individual cow. There were only six, which she was thankful for. Any more and she'd have no fingers left to do the cooking with. All in all, the day went quickly. The cows wouldn't need to be milked until after noon, giving her time to fill up on something before she attempted that. She'd let the two horses out into the corral for a while, to get some exercise and eat up on some of the grass that had begun to grow too tall within the fenced in area. With the chickens outside searching for food, the job of retrieving the eggs went fairly simple. She had...twenty three in all by the time she was finished. She'd pulled up the two lower edges of her apron, placing the eggs within to ensure she wouldn't drop them like she would if she carried them in her arms.

The only thing left for Marie to do was to make a brunch for herself and her grandmother. She'd picked up bacon at the market two days prior, and had some leftover cheese. The portions were small, but then, the only one who really ate at all was her grandmother. Though, in her old age, her appetite was slowly depleting.

Walking up the large hill that led to the house, Marie stopped a moment when she saw a form, outlined by the sun's rays, making its way up the walk. She couldn't be sure who it was, but she figured perhaps it was Sean. He insisted upon meeting a lady at her front door, rather than surprising her in the barn. Laughing at the memory of when he'd said that, Marie took in a deep breath and made her way slowly up the hill, so as not to drop any of the eggs.

When she reached the top, she called out to him, nodding her head in welcome. The form turned and stood stock still, though with the glare, she couldn't see a face. All she knew was, it wasn't Sean. It wasn't until she'd taken a few more steps that she saw who it was that was standing before her. Her gaze started from the ground and worked it's way up. Boots. Brown, mud covered boots that looked all but beaten and worn to death. Next came cleanly pressed pants, a dark green coloring. As her eyes moved up they recognized the clothing as an army uniform. It was then that her hand released its hold on the apron to be raised to her lips, causing some eggs to fall and break on the ground.

Her knees suddenly felt very weak as she watched him come over to her. It was a wonder she remained standing at all, what with the violent way her head spun at the sight of him. Her nerves certainly didn't calm any when he stopped, right before her, and lifted a hand to brush her cheek. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat and watched, eyes transfixed on his, as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him. She in turn wrapped her free arm around him and held on as though letting go would mean losing him all over again.

Only when she saw him look down did she release him. "What's the matter?" Her eyes followed his down to his stomach area, where a yellow slime of sorts was oozing down his shirt. It took her a moment before she remembered that some of the eggs had remained in her apron. Biting her lip, she let them fall and pulled the kerchief from her hair to wipe his shirt clean. After a moment he trapped her wrists in his hands, causing her to lift her gaze back to his eyes. The nervous feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach, and she knew if she didn't sit down voluntarily, her knees would give out and force her to do so. "Will you come inside...?" There was silence between them, before he nodded and slid his hand down to take hers, then turned to retrieve his suitcase, which remained on the porch where he'd left it.

The evening had gone fairly well, he decided, sitting upon the back porch swing. He had a view of the entire farm from where he was, as well as the sunset that was encasing it. Marie had demanded he relax for the night, while she ran through some last minute chores. Logan had attempted to help, but she refused, almost vehemently. He wasn't sure what to think of their reunion. He wanted to think that everything went smoothly and that she was as glad to see him as he was to see her. In the end, though, he knew that there was something in her eyes that told him he'd caused her pain...a great deal of pain. And he wasn't entirely convinced that he was the man to fix that.

He wasn't blind, of course. He saw the neighbor who had come over, offering to help Marie with her chores. Which, of course, made Logan raise an eyebrow at her, since she'd just refused his help. He'd settled back in his chair, a confident smirk on his face, believing full well that this guy would have been turned aside as he had. He was sorely mistaken. "Oh, Sean, that's so sweet of ya..." And as Logan's chair had fallen back onto the floor, his jaw sort of fell open, and he watched as she linked arms with the man and moved out to the barn, calling to Logan that he could relax and that she'd be in when she got her things done. In other words, she'd brushed him aside.

He had two options staring him in the face right then. He could either march down the sloping hill, into the barn, and tell that man exactly who Marie was going to be with from here to eternity, or he could pack up, realizing he wasn't needed anymore, and go home. Logan simply didn't understand. After meeting Marie, no women were appealing. Their hair was either too short, or too red, and their eyes were never right. That always did them in. No one had eyes like his Marie. No one was really in the running to be comparable to Marie, but that was beside the point. The point was, after a few weeks of waiting, she'd given up and moved on.

The thought made him sick to his stomach. Mainly, because he knew there wasn't anything else he could possibly do for her. He'd saved her life, back in Europe, and even packed up his past to share a future with her. And here she was, hardly appreciative, acting as though he'd been away a day, rather than three months, and pretending they didn't have a million things that needed to be said.

He was pretty livid by the time he was finished thinking about all of this. His knuckles itched with the need to let lose, maybe even gut something. Dammit, the things he'd done for her, and here she was making him seem insignificant. Come to think of it, the evening wasn't as fair as he'd originally thought. She barely introduced him to her grandmother, giving only a brief wave of the hand and a mumble of a name. He doubted the old lady even heard it anyway, above the usual noises coming from outside and in the kitchen. Not to mention she didn't bother introducing him to this stocky neighbor man that just came waltzing into the house as though he owned it.

Before he knew what he was doing, the claws had sprung from his hands. It felt good, it felt like sweet release. He'd done his best to be conserved when around people. He hadn't glared at a soul since he boarded the train to come to Oklahoma. Now he wanted to gather the entire world population into one room and pick them off, one, by one, by one.

That settled it. He'd almost left her once. When he'd arrived to find her home in Mississippi, he'd resolved to leave, moving out of her life, letting her forget about him. But now that he was here, that he'd finally gotten the chance to see her again after all the time of being apart, he'd be damned if he just packed up and moved out. The animal instinct was kicking in, and, rather than suppress it like he had been recently, he let it flow. The anger felt good, warm, running through his veins and energizing him with a passion he didn't know he could feel. Pulling the claws back into his hands with the twitch of a few muscles, Logan cracked his neck before shoving off of the porch swing and jumping the fence, all the while keeping his eyes on his target. He didn't care, at that moment, what he did, or what happened as a result of it. Marie could send him away if she wanted to, but not before he got out every last word that he had to say.

Stalking into the barn, every sense was on alert. The stench of the animals was almost putrid, causing his head to reel. Shaking it sharply to regain himself, he reminded himself of the reason he was there and continued throughout the building, ignoring horses, chickens, anything that made noise. He could hear, in the far left, a thick Irish laugh that made just about every nerve in him jump with the desire to shed blood. What made it worse was that a familiar Southern giggle had joined in a moment later. Jealousy was never something he'd thought about before, and, consequently, controlling it was more than a little problem for him.

Reaching the spot which held Marie and Sean, a few inches closer than Logan would have liked them to be, he let out a growl before leaping at Sean, grabbing onto his shirt and slamming him hard agaist the wall of the barn. He ignored the fact that the place shook on its hinges and gazed steadily into the frightened eyes of the tall Irishman under his power. "You listen t'me, you bastard."

"Logan!" Spinning around momentarily, he pointed a finger at Marie as well.

"No. This is for you too! Maybe it'll refresh your memory."

Turning back to focus on his redheaded prey, Logan was pretty sure he could feel the guy shaking in his boots. He took a moment to assess the situation, as well as size up his competition. Fairly tall, stocky, as all Irishmen ought to be, he was seemingly a nice guy and, if he hadn't been attempting to slip Marie out from under Logan (figuratively speaking), he might have actually provided Logan with a fair companion.

That thought made him laugh, though poor Sean was pretty sure the evil growl of laughter was coming from thoughts of Logan mutilating him. "I don't know what the HELL is going on here, but it ends now." A rough shake caused Sean to close his mouth, which he'd obviously opened to explain. If he thought that was the end of Logan's speech, he was pretty damn wrong. "I spent a good two weeks tearing around Europe trying to find Marie amidst a pile of rubble and corpses. I didn't sleep a single night of those two weeks, the constant fear that the next decaying pile of bones I picked up would be Marie's constantly knawing at my conscience."

From behind him, he heard Marie let out a little whimper, and for a second, his grip relaxed. He didn't want to hurt her, but the things that had fueled him and the things they currently left unsaid needed to be let out. After trying things her way, and waiting until she was ready, he decided this was the next best thing. "After I found her, I swore to God I wouldn't leave until I'd saved as many lives as I could. I wasn't lookin' forward to being away from Marie, but it had to be done. How in hell could I let someone else's wife, husband, girlfriend, how could I let them die just because I had the woman I loved? Now, I don't know about you, or people like you and what you believe, but to me, that just doesn't seem fair." Slowly, Logan was calming himself down, letting just about everything in his mind drain out his mouth. Carefully, he was beginning to set Cassidy back on the ground, all the while realizing that Marie stood a few inches behind him now. He could smell the tears, and he could sense her trembling, but he couldn't stop now.

"I care about Marie, more than I have ever cared about anyone or anything in my life. The only thing that kept me going in Europe during those three months in hell was the fact that I'd be able to come home to Marie. And she'd be waiting for me. No one in my life has EVER treated me the way she has. I've never earned half as much respect as she gives me, and I've never had anyone love me as much as she has." Releasing Cassidy now, Logan realized he himself was fairly shaken with the amount of emotion he'd just shared with a complete stranger. Keeping his jaw clenched tightly, he returned Cassidy's steady gaze with his own, a mutual understanding growing between them.

"She saved my soul. Made me into a person I actually wanted to be. I may have saved her in Europe, but it's different, saving a life and saving a soul. Takes more to change a person from the inside out than it does to clean a person up, bandage them, and send them to safety." Clenching and unclenching his hands into fists, Logan suddenly felt the bit of shame rushing over him. He had nothing against this Cassidy fellow, if he was truly honest with himself. In fact, he probably owed the guy a good deal of gratitude. He'd been there for Marie when she needed someone. Perhaps that was another pang of regret Logan had. He may have saved lives to keep couples together, but he wasn't there for the one person who actually needed him, personally.

Taking a step backward, Logan momentarily let his eyes wander to Marie. She stood still, head bowed, and though he couldn't hear her, the salty smell of tears reached him. This wasn't what he'd come out here to do. He was supposed to gut Sean for touching his Marie, and that was it. Instead, he ended up hurting Marie and saying a lot of things he'd have prefered to keep inside.

Turning on his heel, Logan lowered his head, the first hints of shame entering into him as he silently walked out of the barn and back up to the house. He faintly heard Marie apologize to Sean, and knew she was following him, but made no other comment to her. The time to talk had passed, for now. It would take him a while to get over the shock of all the things he'd just realized about himself, about Marie, about everything.

It took a few minutes of wading through corpses and death before he realized he was having a dream. Or rather, a nightmare, from the way the sky was just a bit darker than he'd remembered it, and his heart was a little heavier than when he'd been over in Europe months earlier. He was back in France, eyes straining to find anything that remotely resembled Marie. In the dream though, he never found her.

This time, however, the nightmare had changed. He'd become comfortable enough in the routine of the last one to realize that it was only that, a fantasy of sorts created by the subconscious. That he wasn't really back in Europe, that Marie was in the room next door to him, safe and sound.

But as the nightmare changed and he found himself on the steps of Marie's home, he grew apprehensive. His whole demeanor stiffened, and by the way he could sense every detail about himself and his surroundings, he was beginning to doubt the lack of reality. Everything was too in place to not be real. The way he clenched and unclenched his hands, wondering if re-entering her life was the right thing for her. The way his heart pounded when the light footfall didn't echo throughout the home.

Everything was the same, until he pushed open the door. In that instant, the pungent smell of death mixed with blood sent him into a panic so consuming that he almost lost himself in it. The moment the black cloud that had encompassed his mind released him, he took a step forward, almost as if in slow motion. He willed every inch of himself to move faster, but it wasn't possible.

At last he reached the stairs and made it up them, the sick feeling within his stomach growing to the point of nausea. Pushing open the door to the room where the strong scent was radiating from, he felt as though someone must have kicked him behind the leg, for he fell to his knees hard, eyes growing wide. There before him lay Marie, neck angled at a position it shouldn't be, blood soaking through her clothes from a wound, though he couldn't find exactly where it was. He faintly realized he had whispered her name, hoping for the best, knowing he'd receive the worst. It was in that moment that he realized the one good thing about him was gone forever. That, without her there to help him, he'd slip back into the empty coldness that once, cruelly, ran his life.

Taking the broken form into his arms he held her to him, watching her intently, half expecting to have her open her eyes. She never did, and he knew she never would, but he couldn't bring himself to give up on her. There was something about her that made him feel as if she were still with him. Maybe it was the way her skin was still so warm, or the fact that her lips were curled up into some semblance of a smile. He liked to think she'd thought of him right before she died...giving her reason to smile.

Clenching his jaw shut to keep from letting the wild array of emotions take control of him, he let out a tortured cry, realizing a moment later that it'd taken the shape of Marie's name. Shutting his eyes, he held the lifeless form to him, shutting out the world in the process. That is, until a tiny voice whispered his name. Confused, he looked about the room, eyes narrowed in search of someone who would dare to interrupt his grieving. When he found no one, he closed his eyes again and let his head hang in shame. He hadn't protected her. He hadn't been there when she needed him the most.

When he felt the cold hand brush against his cheek, he couldn't help but reach a hand up and snatch it into his. A second later he opened his eyes to see Marie's open. The sight made him grip her hand tighter, and he could both hear and feel his heart speed up. "Marie...? But...how? You were dead..." He saw a smile pass over her lips, one of...relief? Humor? What was that about? "Logan, I'm here..." Pulling her close against him, he held her as though letting go would stop his heartbeat. He needed her to live, he wasn't ashamed of that. It didn't make him any less of a man, as he'd once believed love did. If anything, it made him more human than he'd ever been his entire life.

Suddenly, a bright flash reflected throughout the room, and then all was black until...

Logan opened his eyes, looking around at the four walls surrounding him, and blinking from the bright light coming from the lamp. It was the bedroom Marie had set him up in...the one at her grandmother's home. He was back in Oklahoma, away from Mississippi, and blood, and death, and...

And Marie was with him. Holding tightly to him, stroking his back gently and comforting him. Wrapping his arms tighter around her form, he gave himself up to the embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder and shutting his eyes tightly against the range of emotions the dream had brought on. Logan reveled in the feeling of her chest rising and falling from even breaths, as well as the warmth of her skin, rather than the coldness he'd first been met with. "God, baby I never realized..."

"Never realized what?" Her voice was whispered, the air gently tickling his ear as she spoke.

"How much pain I caused you while I was away. How hard it must have been for you to just sit at home and wait for me. I'm sorry, darlin', that I didn't come sooner. Somethin' in me just didn't find it fair that I should be happy when people, better people than me, would be miserable after losing someone. I wanted to help."

"Logan, I-" Pulling away from the embrace, despite his will to continue holding on, he brushed some of the hair from her face and basked in the love spilling from her eyes.

"It's strange, Marie. Feeling. It's something I've never done before, at least...not for someone other than myself. Usually the priority in my life is me. It's what kept me going during the years of this war, and what usually made up my mind about tough situations. How will this affect me? Does this benefit me? If not, forget it." He paused a moment, squeezing her hand after she'd taken his into her gentle hold. It was nice, to finally be able to speak his mind without using claws and intimidation to do so.

"It made me wonder, when did I start caring? It wasn't back before my accident, and I certainly didn't feel any differently when I was "recooperating" in the make shift hospital. The only thing I can figure is that it was the day I had to leave you. The day I wanted to hear you say "I love you," because I'd realized that morning that those were three words I'd never heard in my life, if you can call it a life."

"I said it, then. And I wish with all my heart that you'd heard it that day. I loved you then, Logan..." He felt her moving closer to him, and for a moment, his heart stopped. He was fairly sure he couldn't take it if she told him that she'd changed the way she felt about him. That it was better for her not to get involved with a man who linked her to such a painful past. It was all logical, and he wouldn't hate her for saying any of those things because he knew it was the truth. But he also knew that living without Marie caring for him wouldn't really be living at all.

"But..." Logan had to force the word from his lips. It tasted bad on his tongue and even worse after he'd spit it out.

"But...? There are no "buts" Logan. I still do love you. I didn't hate you, or feel bitter about having to wait for you. I'd wait an eternity. After a while, though, it just grew too difficult to keep watching out the window...jumping every time someone at the door knocked..." Logan watched as she drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through partially parted lips, before continuing. "I knew it would be a while before you finally did come back. And as much as I wanted to be there when you did, part of me needed to leave that place. I couldn't stand being alone in that house. You're a very intelligent man. I knew you'd find me sooner or later, if I wasn't back in Mississippi when you arrived. And I was right, wasn't I?"

"I guess so..." Staring into the face he'd searched all over Europe for, he smiled. A genuine smile for once. It was strange...so many things changing. He'd done good for others, and even when life punished him for it by causing him to almost lose Marie, he hadn't regretted it. Logan was a new person, thanks to the situations life had thrown him into over the past years. Even if he'd been faced with the chance to live the better part of his years over again, he wouldn't dare. Because then, he'd never have met Marie, nor would he have become the man he was, every day, growing to like more and more.

"Come on, then. It's late. We'll talk more in the morning." She moved to get up from her place in his arms, but he refused.

"Stay with me. Not because I want something...just...to be here. Please." Logan watched as Marie studied his eyes, looking for an explaination to his need to have her with him, knowing she'd receive none. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded slightly and moved to get under the blankets beside him. Leaning over he turned the lamp off before settling in to sleep. Behaving, as he promised he would, he slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her to him, smiling slightly at the warmth of having her against him. "I love you, Marie." Kissing her hair, he closed his eyes and settled in to sleep.

"I love you too..." Squeezing her lightly in response, he handed himself over to sleep, barely hearing the woman beside him ask, "Logan? Will we be all right now, you and I?" After a moment of contemplating the question, remembering all they'd been through and survived, he nodded some.

"Yeah, Marie. I think we will." THE END