Her eyes are so dark, like black pools and they hold no light. There's no true spark in there anymore, not like before. It's out there somewhere – a lost child, waiting to be found and brought back home to the safe sound of welcoming voices. But the thoughts are equally dark and keep pouring out those velvety brown eyes ...

~ Closer … come closer …

… closer …

closer…

I know you're watching me. You've been watching me, following me, ever since we returned from that forsaken hellhole up north.

You don'thave to pretend, you know. I know people are fascinated with me,it'salways been like that – come see the freak queen, she who cannot be touched – it's nothing new. Nothing personal, you can ogle all you want. I don't really care what they think of me, not anymore – what's there to care about anyway? I gave up on that a long time ago.The word holds no meaning any longer. Maybe that'll be my epitaph.

Oh come on, don't be afraid, you can touch me if you like. I know you want to.It's okay, for short periods of time I'm just ... Rogue, with normal skin,so go ahead and touch me. Here, take my hand ...

You'd love to know what it's like, wouldn't you? What it feels like to be me,an unchained prisoner. What it would feel like to touch me. What it would feel like to hurt me. What it would feel like to kiss me. What it would be like to fuck me – would I be the ride of your life, or your ticket to hell? What it would be like, feel like, look like to kill me.

To love me.

To know if I'm capable of loving.

You'd like to know all those things wouldn't you? You're certainly not the only one, and not the first. I've had both men and women look at me, some with disgust, some with fascination, and others that have been interested, at times fancied me, perhaps even loved me. I don't know why they do it ... just like I can't really tell why you're hiding back there, why you're so interested in what I do, what I feel. What I am. What I am not.

Do you really want to understand? I suggest you pick up `The Bell Jar' ...

There's someone at the door. Not you, I know that – you can go back to lurking around, and maybe I'll throw you a bone or two. God knows the wolves are gathering around me, they're getting closer and closer everyday,with their claws and fangs and foam at their mouths. They want nothing short of blood. Life. Supremacy. Pain. They want to rule my world using shadows and silence, a silence that can turn a shallow breath of airinto a scream of pure despondency; empty, mute. They want to rule me. Divide and conquer as the old saying goes ...

Don't get in their way if your life's worth anything to you. Don't get too close to me, don't contemplate what it would be like to stay with me, what it would be like to wake up next to me. What my heart might tell you. There are no more tomorrows, you hear me? Well, do you?~



"Rogue, your date's here!"

I staggered and leaned my forehead against the cool surface of the bathroom mirror. My heart pounded inside its ribcage, like a frantic racehorse it ran and ran and ran until its hooves began to bleed. No. Not this, not now. No,no, no ... NO. Somehow I found a way to calm myself down, enough so that I was able to use my voice and answer Jubilee.

"Be right there, Jubes!" I took one last look in the mirror, and sighed. Not at my appearance, the dress was to die for, it was just ... something behind my eyes worried me. I had no intention of coming off as the depressed Rogue tonight. Inhale andexhale. `Kay ... nice and calm ...

I smoothed my hands down the dress in an attempt to boost my confidence then closed the bathroom door behind me and went into the living room.

"Hey you," I said, not entirely sure what to do next. Or what to expect.

"Hey ... wow…I mean ... Rogue ... you look ... that ..." John said and gestured towards me. His face was all serious when his eyes wandered over my body, and it wasn't that usual stern, and close to hostile look. Suddenly I saw the man that he'd become, he'd aged a lot during the time spent away from the School. Still ... I caught a glimpse of the darkness that remained somewhere deep in those beautiful eyes.

Just like me he's been through a lot and, as far I know, he's never let anyone get this close to him until we became friends. Ever since he returned after being gone for several months, he's refused to talk about Magneto and the Brotherhood – he goes all tense whenever they're even mentioned. I've no intention to push him to talk, `cause we all know I've got myown issues there. Erik resides in my head and I'll hate himfor all eternity for what he did to me, and whatever it was he did to John.

"What? You like it, John?" Of course, I knew that already. Just because I'm still a virgin doesn't mean I can't tell when a man looks at me appreciatively. Right? And he was staring, his eyes darting up and down my body.

"You look amazing ... damn, how come you've never worn black lace like this before?" John closed the gap between usand grabbed me by the waist, his hands sliding down to cup my ass.

"Fuck,Rogue,you're so sexy I'm not even sure I wanna go to that party, now.Dining with the Professor and the rest of the X-men suddenly seems so ... so boring compared to the thoughts you've put in my head ..." he murmured and grinned at me.

I deliberately licked my lips in away I knew would make him squeeze me just a little harder. "You ain't so bad yourself", I said and smiled as he pressed the evidence of his reaction against me. I absently wondered what it would be like to fuckhim. He certainly looked fuckable ...

He frowned slightly. "This old tuxedo ... yeah, well ... Scott threatened to cut me out of the nextmission if I refused to wear it, so ..."

"Well, you look just fine, and maybe we'll find some time later on … to catch up from where we left off last night."

"Careful, I might hold ya to your word, woman", he said hoarsely and nuzzled in my hair.

The warmth of his breath, like a caress, so close to my skin sent a shiver through my body. I so badly wanted him to touch me, to undress me, that I'dclosed my eyes at the very thought of it – my heart wasracing andI could no longer keep my breathing steady.

~... touch me ...~

Muffled sounds coming from the other room brought me back to reality. I'd momentarily forgotten we weren't alone in the apartment, and as much as I enjoyed the idea of being caught in the act, I wasn't too comfortable with that spectator being Jubes. She wasn't exactly fond of John, and she'd probably be upset by the sight of her best friend getting it on with a former traitor and notorious bad boy. Poor John ... he was going to have to go without ... for now. Fighting the continued resentment the X-men was wearing him down.

"John ..." It was getting difficult to concentrate on more important matters like ... oh yeah, the dinner ... that was it. Right. Okay.

"Mmm…?" His hands were smoothing my hips over and over. Had he noticed I wasn'twearing any underwear? Maybe, maybe not but the thought was exhilarating enough to make my thighs heavy.

"We really should get going ..." I said breathily. Damn, but it felt so good, those firm strong hands ...

He sighed audibly and withdrew from me with a gloomy look on his face.

"Yeah, yeah ... fine ... you ready?" he said with eyes still fiery, and offered me his arm.

I let out a breath and nodded slowly. "Sure, let's go," I replied as smoothly as I could manage.



"They're staring at us," John murmured and shot me a glance. Oh, he was amused by it all, and satisfied.

"Must be the tux," I said and nudged him gently. He was very handsome, and knew it. My guess was that all the attention not only boosted his ego, but also gave him the confidence to be what I knew he could be. What he wanted to be. Hell, I also felt a tinge of satisfaction at their envy, their covetous looks at the handsome man on my arm. John was mine and only mine. He'd never leave me.

John relaxed and gave me that mischievous smile I was so fond of, and brushed his fingers against my bare back before he settled his hand on my hip.

"I felt that ..." I murmured.

He leaned into me and whispered; "I knew you would ..."

"Careful ...I don't wanna catch fire ... yet ..." I felt the heat creeping up my cheeks at that, and no doubt he was also remembering last night.

John arched an eyebrow at me and guided us to our seats. I noticed Ororo looking curiously at me from across the table as I sat down.

"That dress ... where'd you get it, Rogue? I mean wow ... stunning ... you're gorgeous!" she said, and smiled appreciatively.

"Yeah,well I learned from the best," I replied and made a gesture towards the weather goddess. "You've always known what looks good." In fact,I've never seen anyone around here that can wear pretty much anything and get away with it, especially skin tight leather cat suits. But hey,with a gorgeous creamy mocha colored skin like that, she could get away with walking around naked.

"Indeed ..." John murmured and traced my left thigh with his hand. The lace protected him from my lethal skin but not me from the heat of his touch. And it burned. I wanted it to burn me to the ground.

"John," I mouthed to him. It wasn't so much him actually touching me but rather, the unexpected reaction in my body it brought. This was not the place and time for what I wanted. It never was.

"Okay ... okay ..." he sighed and gestured, then turned his attention to Kitty and Bobby, taking their seats next to him.

I caught Bobby's eyes for a brief moment and smiled. He nodded slightly in return. I was relieved there were no hard feelings between us still, and that we'd sorted things out. A guy like Bobby ... he's sweet and all but I guess it just wasn't meant to be. I tried, I really did, but no matter what I did I couldn't even bring myself to fantasize about him. I tried so hard to convince myself that I was infatuated with him, but a stolen kiss doesn't necessarily conjure love. And there, my thoughts took a familiar turn down a dark path. Neither does resurrection,they muttered, low and bitter.

I snapped out of my daze as I heard my name being mentioned.

"So, Rogue ... glad you decided to come," Scott said casually. I might have made a mistake but behind those shades I'd almost swear his eyes were sparkling.

"You look ... great, you seem ..." he waited for me to finish the sentence for him. Poor Scott, small talk's never been his forte. I couldn't help but smile.

"Happy?" I suggested.

"Yes, happy ... It's been a while ..."

And yes, it had been a while.

I put a hand on John's thigh and instantly felt him tense under my touch, before he started to relax again. It was comforting having him this close tome, and not just a shadow of someone who wasn't there.

"It's been a difficult time for everyone ... " I told him softly.

Scott cleared his throat and I knew he knew what I'd meant. It didn't take a brainsurgeon to tell he was still hurting and I felt for him because I knew.

I knew ... it was one of those memories I'd barricaded in the deepest, darkest corner of my mind, the forbidden area. Memories of exposed skin – a hand smoothing the curve of a pale, naked hip,fingertips brushing soft mounds of breasts, low pitched moans,tongues and lips and eyes. His memories told me what he felt as he entered a woman, what was going through his mind as he fucked her, what his climax felt like. The triumph when he made her come, as he watched her come.

The memories of former lovers from before we met never really bothered me. It had everything to do with him fucking a woman when he knew how I felt. When I knew how he felt about me, and what we meant to each other. But the worst part of it all? It hadn't been watching him in bed with another woman, it was what he said to her and that he knew I was watching. Those three words, in a secret but loud enough whisper, as sharp as a razor and blunt like old scissors. It wasn't hard to cut through my flesh back then ...

Anything. I would've done anything if I had known what had made him hate me so much the mere sight of me had been enough for him to look the other way. I died that day, and Scott knew some of what I'd been through, but not all of it. Far from everything, because I knew back then that he'd go after the keeper of my heart and try to kill him. Scott dead wasn't an option, and it still wasn't, so I kept my mouth shut just in case.

Something caught Scott's attention and I didn't have to turn my head to know Jubes had just entered the room. She swayed her way towards the table and took a seat next to me and flashed us a smile that made me wonder how long it would take for Scott to surrender to that. Crimson really suited her, I thought. She was just beautiful.

"Hey Rogue."

"Jubes ... you look amazing," I said and gave her what I hoped was an appreciative smile.

She eyed me, and blushed slightly. "I know, I know ... he won't stand a chance, you'll see. So ... you and St John, huh?"

I glanced to the right but John still seemed wrapped up in a conversation with Bobby and Kitty, and they were talking about some old mission I couldn't recall.

"Yeah ..."

"So? I mean, John ... come on Rogue ... he of all people..." she said and arched an eyebrow at me. She had lowered her voice so that no one would hear our conversation.

I sighed and took a sip of the wine. "Well ... I don't know ... it kinda just ... happened, I guess."

Jubes snorted and pursed her lips, signaling that she didn't believe me at all. "You really need to get involved with another loner?"

I felt my grip tighten around the glass. "Don't start with that, you kno–" I began but she broke it off and grabbed me by the arm.

"I just don't wanna see ya get hurt again, and ... okay look, John is a cutie and he's hot and all but ..." She let the words trail off and shrugged slightly.

"We're not ... involved ... it's not what you think ..." I tried to keep my voice down, why the fuck did she have to bring this up now? This wasn't the place or time to discuss my lovelife when the man in question was sitting next to me.

From the corner of my eye I noticed Ororo studying us with a thoughtful expression on her face. Scott, on the other hand, seemed more than preoccupied with Jubes. As she was busy talking to me, he had his eyes fixed upon her.

"What way? You're not fucking him, right? So what way?" Jubes said sternly.

I sighed irritably. "Damn it Jubes, now's not the time okay?"

"I know you don't love the guy, Rogue ... I mean, come on ... you're not even *in* love with him," – and her voice dropped several notes – "because I know what you're like when you really are".

"Keep it down, will ya? We can talk about this later somewhere more private ... we're not supposed to be having some kind of interrogation here are we? We're supposed to have ... fun ... and make sure Scooter will end up on his knees tonight."

I had no intention of discussing my love life any further, and besides, it was Jubes so I already knew what she was going to tell me. And breaking it off with John just wasn't an option.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright ... let's just enjoy ourselves ... and drink some, no make that lots of wine and champagne," she said cheerfully, shooting Scott a challenging glance.

"Okay ... I guess I can drink to that," I said, and raised my glass, relieved that she'd dropped the John issue. For the time being.

"Yeah that and having our way with the men".

"I'll drink to that too, Jubes", Ororo said amusedly and quirked an eyebrow at us. It was enough that Scott knew about my problems and worries, telling Ororo would be too much. She acted every bit my mother already. I just didn't want to get her worked up about something she couldn't do anything about.

Scott simply cleared his throat and seemed to be slightly uncomfortable, then relieved as Kurt suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Ororo eyed him with a thoughtful expression – she tried to hide her reaction to him being there, but rosy cheeks make that difficult.

"And where have you been?" she said.

"You missed me ... I'm flattered ..." he said and flashed pointy teeth at her, "... so tell me, vhat did I miss?"

"You don't want to know," Scott said, unable to suppress a smile.

Kurt raised his eyebrows at us and then at Ororo. "Liebschen ... vhat have you done?"

"Me? Nothing ..." she replied and gave me and Jubes a mischievous smile.

The dinner went well, no major ... um ... mishaps, but I guess that depends on what you'd consider those to be. The professor gave a speech about the importance of friendship and his plans and hopes for the New Year. During the speech John found my hand underneath the table and entwined his fingers with mine.

I knew he was smiling, and so did I – this was our secret, the one no one else knew about. For short periods of time I could touch him. Just to be safe, I had brought a pair of gloves, made out of the same black lace as the dress. He could touch me and it felt better than anything I'd ever experienced.

Almost anything.



Chapter 2

"Hey, Scott ." I nudged him gently. We stood by one of the windows, watching the others scatter around the room to dance, make small talk, or just lounge like Scott and I. He was quiet and seemed more tired than drunk. Somehow I knew that it wasn't due to lack of sleep.

"Rogue?"

"How are you holding up sugar?" I asked and slid an arm around his back. The tension he radiated seemed to lessen a bit and I figured he needed the comfort. I tried to do my best.

Scott sighed. "I'm alright ..." he said quietly and pulled me closer to him so he could rest his chin against my head.

"You don't have to pretend with me, you know."

He gave a laugh that came out bitter instead of joyous, and I hated the idea of him being this unhappy. This wasn't the Scott I'd come to know.

"You know, I used to pray that it was just some bad dream ... that it never happened ... but then I find myself rewinding that moment in my head. Over and over again." The pain in his voice was raw, and it really got to me every time we had talks like this, and there was nothing I could do to ease that pain completely. Nothing I could do to help him heal those emotional wounds that he'd refused to acknowledge since that day up at Alkali Lake. There wasn't anything I could do that would bring Jean back to him. Nothing. Even Jubes wouldn't be able to change that completely.

And nothing I did would ever bring Logan back to me, and that made me numb and frozen because he'd never been mine to begin with. He longed for something else, something he shared with someone else. I was just Rogue. There was a time when I'd been Marie, but she was long gone, buried underneath a heavy layer of icy crust. Put to sleep like Snow White. Except that there was no one coming to her rescue. No one who would grieve.

"Scott ..." I knew what he meant because it had also occupied – hell, infested - my thoughts, and for a long time I'd wanted nothing more than for it all just to end. That all my dreams hadn't turned out like they did. I knew the meaning of betrayal all too well. Back then, I couldn't comprehend how I'd come to mean nothing to a man who used to be closer to me than Scott ever was.

"I ... I've thought about resigning, maybe moving to Europe or something," he said suddenly.

"What? No! Scott ... no, you can't do that! Not you too ..."

He sighed heavily. "But it's hard. I feel ... you know, I feel like I'm walking in circles, that I'm of no use to the students, to Charles, the X-men. No one needs an absentminded teacher and ..." at that, he seemed to break down. "No ... no, Rogue ... no I can't do this any longer. I can't stay here where every little thing remind me of her."

At that moment I wanted to touch him. I could feel the need flooding him, the almost physical need for human touch. He craved the intimacy of being thoroughly consoled in the same way someone sick or dying would. I sensed it and I drank in his shadows, because in some way they mirrored my own. It made my chest tight with the kind of anguish I thought I'd freed myself from. Scott didn't even flinch as I reached up to trace his firm, smooth cheeks with my bare fingertips.

"Don't tell," I whispered and smiled.

He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his mouth.

"Thank you ..." he murmured and let go of my hand.

"Don't go, Scott ... please." I didn't want to beg for him to stay and yet I couldn't just stand by and watch him leave. Not only for Jubes's sake, but for my own as well. I needed him to be there. I loved him, and idea of him leaving Westchester ...

~... I don't want you to go ...~

Up until that point I hadn't realized how much I'd actually come to rely on him to be there. My family was forever lost to me, or so I figured, and so were other people that I'd known. Scott was one of my oldest and dearest friends, not only had he saved my life once, but he'd defended me several times after that. I knew within my heart that he'd do it again if it came to that. Sweet, sweet Scott ...

"Rogue ..." he said softly and gently brushed a thumb across my cheek. I wanted to cry, the way he touched me made every single suppressed emotion and memory come to life, inevitable and with a force that tore at my mind like a raging animal trapped in a cage.

"Don't go. Please, Scott, don't leave me here alone, please ..." I couldn't lose him now, he was my lifeline, the last outpost in the wasteland I was living in. To lose Scott would surely be like a free fall and it scared the hell out of me. No, he couldn't leave. Never.

"Why are you sad? I'm still here ..." he murmured.

I wanted to be angry at him for even thinking about leaving me, instead all I managed was to bury my face in his shirt and listen to his heart beat while my own was racing. And I was beginning to lose my course of direction.

"Rogue, sweetheart, what's wrong?" His voice was soft, and I had to strain to hear it over my dread. Somewhere, in the distance, I could hear the wolves howling. The snapping of demon teeth. The return of despair.

"You're the only one I have left and if you decide to leave ... please, don't go," I mumbled against his chest. I felt him caress my hair, soothing me in a way he'd never done before. Emotional, yes, but never intimate like now.

"Okay ... okay, I won't ... how could I? I can't bear the thought knowing you'll be upset if I walk away" – and he continued with a low pitched voice – "especially since I know what you've been through these past couple of years".

Over. Over. That time was over. Inside, I was screaming the words that my brain and heart refused to believe. Logan was gone; he'd left me behind to die of thirst and never even bothered to look over his shoulder.

I had no desire to see my psychiatrist again, and I didn't want to renew my addictive relationship with Zoloft, another demon ... but I knew what it was that rode my mind and body, cutting me up, weakening me. I tried frantically to hold on, to push it away, to reclaim my sanity and not give in to the lie I used to feed. There had always been monsters hiding underneath my bed, skeletons and evils in my closet and I'd never been able to chase them away.

~... breathe ...~

My right hand went up to trace the part of my skin where I'd gotten a tiny tattoo more than two years ago. It's situated just above my heart, like the beautiful lie it is. How fuckin' ironic it felt.

~... breathe ... breathe ...~

"Rogue, you need me to go get Hank?" Scott asked anxiously, gripping my shoulders like a lifeline. "Rogue, honey answer me."

I couldn't find it in me to look at him. I didn't want to give myself away, I wanted to run and hide and be gone.

"No. No, I'm alright. I just ..." My voice was pretty steady but my hands trembled like I was an addict waiting for my next fix.

"You sure? I mean really sure? You were starting to scare me, you know," he said and gave me a quick hug, burying me against his chest.

"Yes … yes, I'll be okay … maybe some fresh air …"

Scott guided me out to the patio and I gasped at the bite of frozen air. Lace may have its advantages but keeping your ass warm and cozy ain't one of them. Kind, gentle, considerate Scott saw, of course, and went back in to get me a quilt and some wine for us both.

"Here, hope this helps," Scott said and handed me a glass of red wine. As I huddled in the warmth of his presence with the quilt wrapped around me, I took a mouthful of the wine; however I had to force myself to stop gulping down the rest. This wasn't who I wanted to be.

We were silent for several minutes, Scott studying me calmly and patiently while I wondered what color his eyes were. At that moment I felt more connected to him than I'd ever felt, not only was he my friend and confidante, but even as I struggled with my mutation, I could still do what he never could. He could never let anyone fall into his eyes; they kept everyone at bay just like my skin. I wanted to tell him to go after Jubes, to quit the game of despair he was wrapped up in day and night because no matter how cheerful and optimistic Jubes seemed to be, I knew better. Underneath that polished surface of hers, I'd caught glimpses of a girl who was beginning to feel like she was waiting in vain.

"If you want to ... I mean ... I want you to know that if you want to talk, I'm here." Even with the bold words, a faint streak of uncertainty hid underneath Scott's usual calm. Always the gentleman, considerate and caring – he knew his way around women and never forced himself on them, or me.

"I'm okay, really Scott you don't have to worry. I just needed some air and some wine and a good friend to talk to," I told him and it was a lie in some ways. Not the friend part though.

It was a lie, but the truth I wanted untold and locked away forever. And it wasn't the first lie anyway.

Scott opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to change his mind. A mouthful of wine sufficed instead. The silence between us suddenly became awkward for a few seconds.

"So ... have you thought of any New Year's resolutions?" he finally asked.

Don't trust anyone.

Don't open your heart.

Don't be a fool.

~Yeah, I can think of a few …~

"No, no I ... have you?" I asked carefully and hoped that he had, hoped for his and Jubes's sake that he had. He needed a fresh start, a place to begin. A new beginning.

He shrugged and took another sip of wine. "No."

"Scott?"

"What?"

I wasn't entirely sure if it was the right thing to do, if I was being cruel, but the wine had me talking and suddenly I couldn't shut up about it any longer. He had to come to his fuckin' senses, instead of letting it all slip through his fingers.

"How much longer are you gonna continue this?" I asked, my voice came out a lot more sharp than I intended it to.

He frowned at me. "Continue what?"

"This wallowing you're wrapped up in, it's gotta stop, you have to stop acting like this."

"What do you mean `this wallowing'?" he said sternly and chewed at his lower lip.

I knew even before asking that I would hit a nerve, but I felt I had to be brutal or he wouldn't come to his senses. Ever.

"Listen, Scott, it's been almost two years. She's not coming back."

He turned his back on me and made an attempt to leave but I threw the words at him, like a fishnet, knowing he'd be caught anyhow. I knew he still worshipped that love he once had shared with Jean, that he guarded it like it was a precious gemstone, refusing anyone to come near. He still loved her, fine, but he had to open his eyes and accept the reality and the reality was that she was dead. Dead and gone and not coming back. Ever.

"I don't want to talk about it," he simply said, refusing to look at me.

"But we are," I continued and touched his arm. I didn't really want to talk about Jean, what she did to me was something that haunted my dreams, but I would keep my feelings to myself. Out of respect for Scott, who still loved her. I very rarely let my thoughts wander down that path, to the place in my mind where I could still recall her sultry voice whispering Logan's heart didn't belong to me.

Scott spun around and stared heatedly at me. Even the shades couldn't hide that.

"No," he said and snapped his mouth shut.

I gulped down the rest of the wine and waited for him to unwind, for him to take my hand and show me the way to his heart. I could unbolt the door, I could set him free. I could help him forget because I knew how. He hadn't lost his compass the way I had. I didn't even have a roadmap any longer, but what's a roadmap worth when you're going nowhere?

"Yes, we are. We are so going to talk about this, at some point we need to talk it through," I said firmly and put the empty glass on the ground.

He shook his head. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because someone has to, and if you don't end this ..." I didn't want to think about what might happen. What had happened to me. "Let it go, Scott."

"I can't. I can't ..." he said hoarsely.

"You can't grieve for the rest of your life." It would kill you. Another thing I knew. But at this point I didn't fear death; he was my companion at night and the one who bedded me these days. Not that I ever intended to tell Scott about my freaky suicidal thoughts, he had enough dark thoughts of his own to fight.

He flexed his fists and sighed. "I know that ... damn it, don't you think I know that already?"

"Then do the right thing and let her be at rest and open your eyes or you'll lose more than what you've already lost," I told him softly. The anger had washed away at the sight of the emotions that flashed across Scott's face.

He smoothed a hand across his face. "But it's so ... hard. I've tried to but I," he broke off to cough. "I just ..."

"Just because you let go and move on doesn't mean you'll forget, or have to – there will still be memories you know," I said and reached up to trace his handsome face again. Forget and move on ...

Scott smiled tiredly. "Things never really turn out the way they're supposed to, do they?" he murmured and pulled me into his arms.

I closed my eyes and let myself be comforted in return. I inhaled his scent; warm and masculine. Something familiar and reassuring.

~...I don't want you go ...~

"I'll make one promise, Rogue," he said softly against my hair.

"What?"

"My new year's resolution will be to look out for you, if you'll do the same for me."

I hesitated for a couple of seconds before answering him. "If you go and talk to her." I hoped that he knew what I meant.

"Promise you'll look me up if you need or want to talk. About anything any time of day", he said and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"Okay ..." My chest suddenly felt tight again, cold bony fingers fumbled to get a grip on me, and the darkness and the void were still there, waiting to suck me in.

"I won't let you get hurt again, Rogue. I know ... I ... you miss him, don't you sweetheart?"

I nodded against his chest, so scared that my voice would fail me that I remained silent.

Scott sighed and slowly caressed my hair. "It's okay ... it's okay, honey."

Scott's words called forth the one I used to be a long time ago, and I despised it, despised her. I hated to feel weak and small like that. Powerless. Useless. A nobody. A freak. Didn't want to reopen that grave, didn't want to dig around among old remains; rotting bones and a used and battered soul. I had no desire to resurrect Marie D'Ancanto.

~... you are dead ...~

"Rogue, you're alright, right? You're not just saying that are you?" Scott asked and searched my face for a reaction of some kind.

"I'm okay ..." Truth was, I desperately needed something to drink, something, anything to help me vanquish the monsters hiding underneath my bed.

~... dead ... dead ... dead ... dead ... dead ...~

"Okay, just don't hesitate to come see me if need to," he said reluctantly and straightened my hair.

"You go ahead, Scott, I'll be with you guys shortly, I just have to ... I'll be okay, `kay?" I said and absently patted his arm.

"Just don't take too long, it's only about half an hour `til midnight." He gave me a quick hug and went back inside to join the others.

And again, I was alone. Alone with my demons, the darkness, the wolves.



Chapter 3

My fake smile faded as Scott left the patio to join the others.

I was alone.

Alone…

Unable to bear the weight, I stumbled.

I braced myself against something - patio furniture, a tree, I couldn't tell - and pressed a hand to my chest to keep the panic at bay. I did it to hold my sanity in place, because it hurt. The feeling got worse the more I thought about it, almost to the point where I couldn't breathe. Inhale and exhale and inhale and exhale inhale exhale inhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhale ...

~... you're doing it again ...~

No ...

... Yes!

I was so afraid of what John might think of me if he saw me acting like a freak - he had no idea, and I wanted it to remain that way. We'd had enough turmoil in our lives, more than our joint share of death and destruction and the evil that men are capable of.

There had been nothing left within me after a while, though no one really understood because I was always putting on a smile. Charles probably knew but he was so wrapped up in grief after Dr Grey's death he didn't have time for anything else. I couldn't feel remorse or guilt or anything for what I did on the missions after Alkali Lake. Oh, but it was a bullet ride ...

Then somehow John and I had ended up together. I've never told him he's crouching inside my head, that he shares the space with four other men and maybe that's for the best since I think I've inherited some of his rage towards everything. All of them save Cody and Bobby have more or less warped personalities, and in a way, I might be classified as having a multiple personality disorder.

I should have gone insane a long time ago.

~ But you are ~

No. I am still here.

~... weak ... weak ... weak ...~

I had to wrap my arms around my chest – the need to hurt myself rode my body with frantic speed and it wanted all of me. It wanted to destroy everything that was still me and scratch my eyes out, it longed to slit my wrists and feed on my life force. It demanded that I should cease to exist.

"Rogue."

And I fell.

I fell to the sound of that voice.

That familiar voice.

His voice. A voice I knew, and remembered vividly.

So very vividly.

And I was descending. A free fall that knocked the air and reason out of me and I relived the horrifying moment when I got sucked out of the Blackbird. I knew I was seconds away from dying then, and I did. I sacrificed a part of me – enough of a prize for what I needed to survive; a tranquil mind.

And now it was all gone.

Gone without a trace ...

I told him to leave and still found myself facing him, a ghost and a memory, unable to move. We simply stood there and stared at each other – maybe for a few seconds, maybe for long minutes. It was surreal.

He hesitated before he dropped a bag to the ground. I hadn't even noticed him taking those few steps that separated us but suddenly he was just there in front of me, dressed as he'd been the day he'd left the mansion. Faded worn jeans, the signature belt buckle, a dirty white t-shirt, that old leather jacket. And behind him? A trail of blackened shadows that reached for me with their spidery fingers.

He studied me intently with a grim look on his face. Then, confusion.

"How long?" he asked slowly.

I managed to break away from his gaze and wrapped the quilt around me like a shield. Useless, of course – I knew it didn't matter to him; a quilt could never keep hidden the things I wanted to hide from him. My voice would fail and the words betray me, so I turned my back and tried to walk away.

He grabbed my arm and forced me to face him again. Before I knew what had happened I felt the sensation of fingertips against my cheeks, against my skin. I couldn't help but lean into his touch even though I needed to pull away, and as he cupped my face, I wanted to die.

"How long?" he pressed, a sharp edge to his voice as he spoke.

I opened my eyes to look at him, and still I was unable to find it in me to answer him. I just couldn't.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he murmured.

"I couldn't." I finally managed to say.

"Marie ..."

I hadn't heard my name said out loud for a very long time. At the mansion, no one but the two of us knew who I had been. It created a small lump in my throat.

"Don't ..."

"Okay," he said and met my gaze.

I remembered his touch just as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. I was still shaking in his room, with him lying in a breathless heap on the floor. Or perhaps, suspended on the statue at Liberty Island. Still untouched, but with him, I wasn't. This man had invaded my body and mind just as intimately as any other lover could. I could hardly recall what it had felt like when John brought me over the edge the night before.

"You changed it," he said, entwining a stray lock of my hair between his fingers. I watched him as he did that, almost paralyzed, and I memorized his features while he was focused on that strand of deep brown hair. He seemed tired and drained.

"I had to," I said and muted the sound of my rising demon into a buzz.

As he let go of my hair his fingertips brushed my neck; he barely made skin contact and still it was like he tried to draw blood from me.

It hurt.

"I meant to call, I just ..." he said and dropped his hand.

"Maybe it's best if you ... if you leave." I forced the words from my mouth and avoided looking straight at him, not entirely sure how he'd react. Through my lashes I caught a glimpse of something flash across his face – anger? caution? disbelief, maybe – and I hated myself for wanting to erase that. I wanted to ask why he'd come back. I waited for him to pick up the rucksack and take off again.

"Why?" and there was a thread of watchfulness in his voice as he said that.

"Just ... just go," I whispered.

He made an attempt to touch me again but I backed away. I needed to leave.

~... Leave like you did ...~

The silence of the night divided us and I wrapped the cold and darkness of it around me, buried and hid myself within it all. Another wave of panic washed over me and my chest felt rigid again, like I was wearing a corset, the loose fitting lace gown doing little to help me breathe. I managed to broaden the distance knowing we were already miles apart, before the solid feeling of his hand taking my arm brought me back to reality.

He yanked me around as he grabbed the other arm, and pressed me against his body. I gasped, not because I remembered what it felt like – every line and curve of a body I'd longed to undress and touch – it was because of something I saw in his face. The eyes had bled to liquid onyx fire, so dark and terrifying that I couldn't tear away from the intensity in them. The anger flared from him and hit me like invisible blows to the face. I could not hold his gaze: I had to focus on something else. Fine lines at the corner of his eyes told me he'd actually aged.

The warmth of his breath spread across my lips as he asked me again. I tried to draw back, but pushing my hands against his chest only caused the quilt - and my invisible shields - to slide to the ground. The tiny tattoo above my heart burned, it burned and competed with my pulse and the growing ache in my chest.

He didn't say anything. Instead he searched my face – for what I had no idea – and tightened his grip so much that I'd probably bruise the next day.

"You're hurting me," I said breathily. Before I had a chance to react, he'd put one arm around my back and brushed my lips with the weathered fingers of his other hand. I wanted to lick them, I wanted him to close that two inch gap between us and bring me to life.

"I'm sorry," he murmured and his features became soft in contrast to all the roughness he usually displayed. Always so strained and on the edge, Logan rarely showed this side of himself. "I'm so very sorry" – and he leaned into me –"so very sorry, Marie."

A sound came from me, something close to a whimper, a sob maybe. The sensation of him touching me was always something so forbidden, and what it awakened within me even more. I kept staring at him, into those dark, dark eyes and felt the pull of the alluring abyss before me. I felt the urge to trip and fall. Would he catch me, or would I disappear into the darkness? My hands against his chest – I sensed the heat and the firmness of his body like an electrical pull; so tempting, so painful.

So beautiful.

The sound of fireworks and distant cheer from the mansion brought me back to reality and from what I could tell, he'd noticed it too. He frowned slightly but didn't remove his gaze, or his arm around me, or the hand that still traced my jaw line, then my lower lip. It was heaven and hell at the same time, and I wanted to linger there just a little bit longer before I'd be alone again.

"Marie ..." he said, so very softly and quietly – his breath a heat wave crashing over me. It eased my pain and magnified it a thousand times. I longed for it to end and I prayed for it to last for all eternity. The way he said my name almost made me forget what I had seen one day some two years ago.

I brushed my fingertips across his cheeks; I touched him – in a feathery motion I painted everything I felt, everything I had ever felt and carried within me, I carved it into his skin. He hadn't shaved for days I could tell, but what that meant I was too afraid to ask. Or maybe it was nothing; Logan would never let a thing like an unshaved cheek bother him. The lips were as firm as I'd imagined them to be, firm, yet soft and smooth. He grabbed my hands and guided them to his mouth, kissing my bare fingers so gently, in a way so full of unspoken words that I had to close my eyes for fear of finding out what they were.

"I'm here now." he said quietly.

And I wanted nothing more. I wanted nothing more than for him to stay.

There was a brief moment of silence, almost tangible, as I let my guard down. I knew he could read me like an open book, and he knew why I was still hurting.

"I hate you," and it was barely more than a whisper, a breath of air, but my voice still came out harsh and ugly. I felt nauseous, yet what I did was to protect us.

Logan eased his grip on me. He didn't flinch at what I'd just said, or push me away. He didn't appear to be angry or even upset, he simply stood there motionless. Silent. Serious. I couldn't tell what or if he felt something, and I wanted to take back the words I'd thrown at him because I hated the way he just stood there with his arms and hands at the side. Then I knew he knew I was telling a lie, and that was worse than anything I'd ever done.

"I'm ... I'm sorry ... I just ..." I babbled, and it was then I heard John's voice coming from somewhere behind me. He called my name and other things, and he'd no idea Logan was there to overhear it all.

"Logan ..." I said pleadingly.

He frowned at me then glanced in John's direction before he settled his gaze on me again. I shuddered and wanted to shield myself the moment our eyes locked. Logan shook his head and barked a laugh, or something close to it.

"St John?" he asked disbelievingly.

I hesitated. "Yes ... bu –"

I gasped as he'd suddenly closed the gap between us and grabbed hold of my shoulders.

"John?" he said hoarsely – tiny threads of anger reached for me like those of a poisonous jellyfish.

"I ... I don't have to explain myself to you Logan", I said and put as much weight as possible in what I'd just uttered. It took every ounce of strength in me to stand up to him, and not give in.

He breathed through his nose, a strained sound that made me feel uncomfortable. "True ..."

"Then don't ask."

"But you know what he is ... he can't be trusted because ..." – and the disapprobation faded as the words did, and was replaced by something else as he regained the ability to speak again –"... you ... he knows already ..."

"Logan, don't do this ..." I said quietly, not sure what to do. He'd
been gone for so long ...

"... You told him ... You shared it with him ... even though you knew what he was all about," Logan said softly.

I longed to touch him again, to have him look at me in every way that meant more than what it used to, than what it ever had, but I couldn't. I simply couldn't; I had a burn mark above my heart that refused to heal. An open wound and a nightmare. I hadn't shared with him what I knew he'd confessed to someone else once upon a time. Did he know she'd whispered his heart's desire to me? Where was the brave and confident Wolverine when he hadn't even had the courage to utter the words himself? What a fuckin' coward ...

"What's the matter?" he said quietly and glanced at my right hand.

I covered the tattoo even though the dress did the job for me, and I still felt the need to hide it from everything. From everyone.

~... and especially you ...~

Logan gently grabbed my trembling hand and gave me a questioning look - the arched eyebrow, lips slightly pursed.

"Don't ... don't touch me," I whispered. My voice sounded just as strained as I felt, and yet I found my hands tracing his cheeks, the unruly hair, the brows, the nose, the neck, the firm jaw line. I couldn't stop what I was doing; I was like a blind person memorizing a face. It was everything but patiently, everything but confidently and everything that I wanted. The only thing I wanted. The moist heat from his breath felt like velvet slithering over my skin – sensual and so unbearable it was just ...

... too much pain.

"I'm not ... I won't touch you again ... Marie," he fell silent for a second "... if that's what you want me to do."

Too much pain. Too much. Bit by bit, he was overpowering me – my defenses had begun to wither, leaving me vulnerable and naked. I had nowhere to hide.

"I hate you." I used the last of my strength to push him away emotionally, then tore my gaze from those deep, dark eyes, and the unspoken question they held – withheld, really. I tore my hands from where they belonged and ran.

I ran from the quiet sound of his voice calling my name.



Chapter 4

I hesitated for a while outside the door to Scott's room. I was nervous. Anxious. But the need for company, someone to comfort me, someone who'd listen, overrode that feeling.

I knocked on the door twice and immediately regretted it, but before I could move away, the door opened and announced a sleep tousled Scott dressed in nothing but a pair of loose jammies.

"Rogue, come in …" he mumbled, and yawned.

"Scott … look I'm … I'm sorry that I woke you up" I stammered and was swamped in embarrassment.

He smiled and urged me to get inside. "It's okay, but don't stand out there, come in so we can talk."

Scott's place was as neat as I remembered, out of all the men on the mansion I knew Scott was the ultimate dream guy if domestic was what you were looking for. It was just … cozy and tidy, I thought and eased myself down in the couch by the window. Scott sat down at the other end and quenched another yawn behind his hand.

"Sorry …" I began. I'd never really been uncomfortable in Scott's presence before, or even embarrassed, but now I just didn't know what to say or do.

"Don't be, Rogue. I told you to come by or call if you needed … to talk," he said slowly.

I sighed and bit my lower lip. "So …"

Scott made a vague gesture. "So … let's talk."

"I don't know where to start …" And I didn't, but I did in a way. Logan. It always came down to him, the source of my misery. The source of my need, my problems, my loneliness, my wallowing. The source of my love. I knew I had myself to blame for most of it, but he'd played a big part too.

Scott smiled tiredly and urged me to lie down and rest my head in his lap. I curled up close to him, my head on his thigh, his hand on my belly and the other stroking my hair.

"Even that's a start you know," he said finally.

I sighed. "He's back …"

Scott opened his mouth then closed it again. "Yes, I know that … Charles told me two days ago," he said.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Scott."

"Rogue …"

"I don't know, I … I just … you have to help me, Scott. Please." I could feel my breathing getting shallower with every second. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Not now.

Concern showed on Scott's face as he brushed his fingers across my cheek. "It's okay, it's okay … you don't have to see him or talk to him if you don't want to …"

A sob escaped my throat and before I knew it, I was crying my eyes out. I didn't want Logan to leave, I didn't want him to hate me, I didn't want anything but him. But he hadn't come back to claim me or declare his love for me. Two years without so much as a word, a call, a letter, not even a goodbye. No explanation, no `I love you', not even a mischievous `Did you miss me?' when he'd finally decided to show up again.

No nothing.

"I can talk to him if you want me to," Scott offered carefully.

Sweet, sweet Scott … I wanted nothing but the best for him, he had so much to offer a woman and I could've the one for him if my heart wasn't already lost to someone else. He was so handsome, so masculine, charming and stable. Being around Scott made me feel safe and at home, and I needed stability in my life.

I wasn't stable. Logan wasn't stable. We weren't stable.

Nothing in my life was stable.

But I didn't love Scott the way I loved Logan. It was Logan inhabiting my fantasies when I touched myself at night, even though I doubted he fantasized about me. It was Logan I was in love with, even though I knew he still loved her. That he'd always love her.

Maybe it was denial. Maybe it was that urgent need for stability. All I knew was that one minute it was comfort, and the next I was straddling Scott. I didn't care about all the exposed skin, his bare chest, that I was dressed in nothing but panties, a short nightie and an ankle length silk robe, both of them made of sheer enough fabric for my nipples to show. To be on the safe side I wore matching silk gloves. Scott went very still but his hands rested on my hips patiently, like he was waiting for me to give permission to move them elsewhere on my body.

"I wish I could see the color of your eyes," I heard myself say, and my hands began to trace his chest. The skin was warm and smooth, the muscles firm underneath my fingers. Flawless, just like a Greek statue.

"Same as yours, though not nearly as beautiful," he said slowly, and shuddered as I brushed my fingers across his nipples.

I smiled. "You always seem to know what to say to make me feel better, Scott. I really appreciate that … because I …"

He hesitated, still all serious and pensive. "I want to kiss you", he whispered.

"Scott … I don't know … I…" Lost for words, I stumbled. It was me who crawled into his lap, me who started this. Why didn't I want to take it further?

"I know I'm not … *him* … but … but I've wanted to kiss you for a long time now …"

And I could never be who he wanted me to be. I'd be just another replacement, like every other man was to me. Like Bobby had been. Like John was. In a way I loved John, I certainly found him very attractive in many ways, but a tiny part of me also knew that it was just as Jubes so eloquently had put it. He had too much in common with Logan, too much for me to be absolutely a peace with dating him. Fucking John that I could imagine, but I'd never really allowed him to get the opportunity. Just couldn't let him inside my heart. I wanted him, but I didn't trust myself to go all the way. Not sure what memories it might bring to the surface.

"I … okay," I decided, and leaned into him.

Scott cupped my face to kiss me very gently, before carefully parting my lips to deepen the kiss. Something happened, and it became more than just a chaste kiss. He tasted vaguely of sleep and toothpaste, and beneath, the scent that was him, the part of him that appealed to the woman in me. I withdrew from the kiss, panting slightly.

"I'm … I'm sorry, Rogue, I didn't mean for it t– " he began worriedly. I silenced him with my hand and let him know he'd nothing to apologize for. Scott really was chivalry personified.

"Don't be, it was wonderful", I mumbled and just remained there, with his hands still on my hips. I meant every word I said and hoped he could tell I was being honest about something this intimate. It felt so … safe. Like nothing bad would ever happen, and I also knew Scott would never deliberately hurt me in any way. I trusted him with my life.

"Rogue …"

I pulled him closer to me. "Come here," and I was lying on my back on the couch with Scott on top of me. He seemed to be uncertain about my intentions, but at the same time I sensed his need, I felt it against the apex of my thighs.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly.

"I need to … I want to know what it feels like …" I said.

"I … I'm not sure … I mean … what about … John?"

John. I didn't feel anything in particular as I thought about him, a cute but troubled guy, and I had no idea what to say to him. How to explain I couldn't remain his girlfriend any longer. I'm so sorry John, I thought and felt a small lump in my throat. I was a horrible person. Deceitful. Untrustworthy. I didn't deserve Scott as a friend, not when I was acting like I was. Cheap. Like a slut. And John, poor John … I smiled briefly and swallowed.

"He was never really in the picture … not in that way …" That was true, in some ways, but I never intended to let Scott know about why I'd turned to John in the first place.

That way. Yeah … We'd had sex yes, but I was still a virgin. Something had always made me turn him down on that particular front, and it wasn't because of my mutation – I was making progress, and he knew it. I suspect it was because somewhere in the back of my mind, I still hoped for what I'd never get.

"But I thought the two of you were … dating?" Scott asked.

"We were … up until now," I said and sighed. God, could this get any worse? But I couldn't stop, I couldn't help myself, it was like a rollercoaster that kept going faster and faster. Upside down. Round and round. I had no control over anything anymore.

"So … what are you saying? If it's not John you want to … share it with … and it can't be me, I know that …"

"If things were different …" I traced my hands along his arms and then down his back.

He smiled sadly. "… but they're not … I know. You really are such a good friend, Rogue, and any man would be so incredibly lucky to have you in their life," he said softly and cupped my face. "So beautiful, so kind, but so lonely, so sad …"

"That's why I want it to be you, if it'll only be one time I'll experience this and if I can't have …" I said slowly and felt awful saying those things. Scott was the only one I could ever imagine doing this with besides Logan, and he'd made it clear years ago he didn't want me. Scott was the opposite to Logan and John, no surprises, no danger involved, no hatred. No trust issues. No heartache. "And I know … I need this …"

"Are you sure? I'll do anything for you, you know that sweetheart but – "

I pulled him down close to my face so I could kiss him. Scott tensed for a second before he relaxed and gently kissed me back. "I'm sure, but you have to use protection … just in case … I don't want to risk absorbing your power … and I noticed those are button down pajamas and I can keep my robe on so we'll be … safe," I whispered in his ear.

Scott got to his feet and rummaged through the small drawer in the bedside table. He returned and kneeled between my outstretched legs and was about to unbutton the jammies when he stilled and looked at me. Even though the shades hid his eyes, I could tell he was insecure and worried. I told him it was okay.

"My panties … you can take them off of me … if you want to," I said and felt my cheeks grow hot. Luckily Scott hadn't turned on the lights, the only illumination coming from the full moon as it shone through the window.

Scott reached under my nightie and did what I'd asked of him. It was sensual and exhilarating and I knew I was ready.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" he whispered.

"Yes … yes …" I mumbled and reached for his mouth.

Scott grabbed hold of my thighs and eased himself inside me. He was gentle and it didn't hurt, though I could tell by the look on his face that he thought about it as he slowly slid in and out of me. That was just how he was; gentle.

And it wasn't enough.

I needed that. I yearned for that, but I also had to have all that I knew from experiencing Logan's memories. What I'd wanted since I was 16 and a runaway. It wasn't Scott's fault; he did everything in his power to protect me, everything he could, being my dearest friend, and a wonderful lover.

And it wasn't enough.

It was never going to be enough.

We both knew that …

… but I was so lonely … and the despair was tearing me apart.

I felt the tears fall down my cheeks and I didn't bother hiding them as I reached down between us to touch myself. I needed release; I needed the climax to forget.

Moments later I wrapped my arms around Scott's back and buried my face against his warm sweaty neck. I told him everything that Logan had done, everything that I'd done in return.

~… I'm so sorry Scott …~

For a while we just lay there, waiting for our breathing to settle down. Scott rested his head on my shoulder; he still had one arm around me and played absently with my hair. I traced his wonderfully muscled back with my silk-clad hands. He deserved so much more than this …

"Do you … do you regret doing this?" I asked quietly and glanced down at him. I didn't, and at the same time I loathed myself for using him.

"No … no … I …"

I caressed Scott's cheek. "S'okay Scott …" I knew what occupied his mind. I knew.

He sighed heavily. "I just … I just miss her so much …" The pain and longing was raw in his voice and eyes and made my heart ache for him. I wished I had the power to alter things, but I didn't.

I placed a kiss on his forehead. "I know what you mean." I'd never pictured myself in bed with someone else but Logan, let alone losing my virginity to someone else but him. There had been no point in fantasizing about other men. No one compared to Logan anyway. It had been a nice experience though, something we'd never do again and still …

Scott reached up and kissed me lightly. "I think we both needed this, and I'll never forget it, Rogue", he said softly and withdrew himself from me. "You can use the shower if you want to … there are some clean towels in the closet over there …"

I smiled and touched his arm. "Someday you'll make someone very happy."

"I love you, Rogue," he said and flashed me a smile.

"I love you too, Scott, don't you forget that." We both knew it wasn't that kind of love. Not the kind of love I had for Logan.



I had to smile at the almost ridiculous tidiness in the bathroom. Not a stain, not a spot or a trace of dust anywhere. Everything was as close to perfection as it could ever be. Oh yes, he'd make a perfect husband some day. A quick shower, then I was ready to go back to my own bed. Scott was nowhere to be seen so I figured he'd gone down to the kitchen or something.

I hurried down the darkened hallway but stopped dead in my tracks before the corridor took a turn. There were low pitched, angry voices coming from around the corner. Scott's and Logan's voices. Scott's level voice. Logan's full of rage and accusation. I instantly held my breath and moved closer, enough so that I would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. Of course I already knew it had only been a matter of time before the two of them would have a run in with each other, and that it would spell disaster...

"… want, Logan?" Scott said coolly.

"I wanna ask you something …" Logan replied as calmly as he probably managed around Scott.

"What? I haven't got all night."

"Have you talked to her?"

"Who? Oh you mean Rogue, your so called `protégé'?" Scott's voice was suddenly dripping with contempt and sarcasm.

Logan exhaled with a strained sound. "Yeah, Rogue. Have you or haven't you Scooter?"

"Maybe … why do you ask?"

"I have to … look, I need to talk to her … tell her a few … things,"
Logan said slowly.

Scott sighed. "So? Just go and see her. She's got your old room now by the way … "

"Meaning?"

"Nothing … just don't delude yourself, a lot has changed since you left."

Logan snorted angrily. "You seem to be awfully close to her …"

"Perhaps, but that's none of your business", Scott said casually.

"Okay, fine, then I'm making it my fuckin' business."

"What do you expect from her, Logan? I mean really, if you knew what you put her through …"

"Look … it's not that simple …"

Scott gave a laugh. "But it is …"

"How would you know that?" Logan said suspiciously.

"I'm just saying that all you have to do is talk to her, I mean really talk, don't lie, don't make promises you won't keep, don't harm her in any way, because if you do, Logan … if you hurt her again …" he seemed unable to finish. "You have just about one slim chance left with her."

"Or what?"

"You don't want to know, and I hope it'll never come to that … because I know how she feels about … all this … I'll do whatever it takes to protect her because she's my friend and I love her."

"How very noble of you Scooter." The derision in Logan's voice left me chilled. I hated the way I'd come between them, not that I'd ever expected them to become best friends, it was just …

Scott sighed angrily. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me either but out of respect for Rogue, and Jeannie's memory, I'll try and restrain myself" – and his voice dropped several notes –"she told me what you did, you know. No wonder she's so messed up inside …"

There was a moment of silence, and then I heard Scott's voice again.

"What is it?"

"There's something you're not telling me." Logan said warily.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do", Logan continued sweetly, but there was a trace of worry and ferocity underneath it all.

"No … and get your hands off of me, Logan", Scott snarled.

"You just came from seeing her, didn't you? Don't lie, `cause I can smell it. Her scent is all over you … she … what the hell did you do to her?"

"Back off, and no I didn't come from seeing her, she came to see me. Not that that's any of you goddamn business."

"You smug son of a bitch," Logan growled.

I heard a fist hit flesh, then someone fell to the floor cursing and ranting.

"Don't fuckin' touch her again, Summers." Logan stalked away angrily.

I was shocked. Stunned. I didn't want to blow my cover and risk embarrassing Scott, so I waited for him to leave, then I hurried back to my room. Formerly Logan's. Not a good omen.



Chapter 5

Even before my hand had reached the doorknob, I knew. I knew he was waiting for me in there. My pulse had sped up. Was I scared? Angry? Eager? One thing I had learnt over the years was that unpredictable only began to describe his ways. No, I guess I was more nervous than scared.

I'd expected him to lecture me, to be enraged even, given the history he and Scott shared. I knew Scott had blamed Logan for what led to the incident at Liberty Island. He still held Logan responsible for a lot of things.

I was prepared for anything - anything but hurt. That was what I saw in his face. Logan hurt, and hadn't I thought that was oxymoron? I was so surprised, so unprepared that it completely threw me off. Those dark brown eyes stared wildly at me and I suddenly realized that he was trying hard to restrain himself.

"Logan?"

And he was there in front of me and in his eyes I saw anger and despair mingled together. He placed my hands against his bare chest, and the moment we made skin-to-skin contact, I let out a breath I hadn't even been aware of holding. The next moment, and I gasped at the need that flared to life, rushing through me like a force of nature. Between us like an electrical current. Logan let go of my wrists and pulled me into his embrace.

He spoke so quietly I could barely make out the words. Why, he asked. Why?

He knew what Scott and I had done, and there was no point in hiding. No point to running. A part of me burned with the need to hurt Logan by rubbing his face in it, but it was hard. It was so hard when I saw the pain in his eyes. It was damn hard when I was fighting the feverish need to touch him. Touch, touch, touch …

I didn't know what to say. There were no reasons any longer.

"Do you love him?" he asked, searching my face.

I wasn't sure if he was referring to John or Scott, or the both of them. "You know I don't," I whispered. I felt the invisible straps of iron around my chest slowly tighten and gritted my teeth. Not. Fuckin'. Again. If I had one more breakdown it would be the last.

"I came to … to talk to you and … and I didn't know you were staying in my old room. Didn't know you knew … him … that well," he said slowly. Logan couldn't fool me, every cell in my body knew he was angry, so jealous of my relationship with Scott and John, and so resentful towards himself for feeling all those things.

I wriggled out of Logan's arms and everything became icy cold, and dark and surreal. I couldn't do this any longer. I had to get away from him.

~… please don't do this …~

"Marie …"

"Don't call me that", I said with a voice that was unsteady and empty. As I turned my back on Logan, I began to cry.

Some random clothes, underwear, a cherished photo from a time that still represented something good to me, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, gloves, more gloves … I crammed everything down into the bag and put on my old green coat.

"What are you doin'?" Logan's eyes wearily darted back and forth between me and the bag.

One last time … I just took his whole being in.

Beautiful.
Sensual.
Gorgeous .
Breathtaking.

… and he wasn't mine. He didn't belong to me.

He didn't love me.

"Marie?" Logan tried to capture my gaze. He seemed nervous, like an animal trapped in too small a cage.

"Please … please … don't make this any harder that it already is," I begged, unable to suppress my feelings.

He stilled. His face, in its stillness, like a beautiful painting. Striking, riveting, mesmerizing.

There was a slight frown between his brows. "What are you talking about?"

Confused, but he had to sense the truth to some extent; strong emotions were easy targets for Wolverine. Had always been, though sometimes I knew he chose to block some of them out. Don't feel anything and you won't get hurt. His rule, but one I used to live by. A rule I still needed to follow. "I'm leavin,'" I said, and my voice shattered like glass.

"Leavin'?" he repeated, his voice strangled by emotion. He came to stand in front of me, his being filling my entire vision.

"Yes." One more touch … I ached with the need to ask him to touch me; it was like a fix, once I'd had a taste of it … and I knew his touch.

Logan suddenly dropped to his knees and buried his face against my belly. Moonlit shadows danced across his back and it was hard to believe that beneath those firm muscles was a layer of unbreakable adamantium. Like a steel skeleton, he'd explained to me once. I knew it hurt like hell every time he unsheathed the claws.

"Don't do this," he mumbled into my robe, his voice trembling with suppressed anger.

It was an awkward and strangely emotional thing for him to do, to behave like he was. It made me wonder if this side of Logan was a reflection of the man he used to be, once upon a time. No one knew his true age, only that he was old enough to be my grandfather. An old man with the body and face of a 35-year-old. Maybe he'd been married. Maybe he had children.

Unaware of what I had done, I fell to my knees and to stare into Logan's eyes. His lips were moving but I couldn't hear one word he was saying. I didn't care, not now, when we were hiding in the shadows of his old room. Nothing mattered anymore. I was going to take what I had longed for, then leave before I got hurt again.

"Kiss me," I breathed. My body ached with the need to own him, my hands ached with the need to touch him, and I ached to taste every part of him. It was something primal, something that was forever a part of me and would never go away or even fade to embers. It would remain a roaring fire, a raging ice storm, and it was going to swallow me whole. It would never end as long as I lingered and hoped for something that I wasn't going to get.

And Logan kissed me. He virtually ate at my lips in a hard and desperate kiss, so unlike Scott's careful attentions. Not that I had any doubts that Logan could be equally gentle, but this wasn't him. He stayed at the back among the shadows and watched as Wolverine marked me. It bordered on being violent, and still it felt so good it stole my breath and sanity.

Logan's hands were all over me, doing things that I'd only dreamt of experiencing. I was only vaguely aware of him tearing furiously at my clothes … because my own hands were busy doing the same thing. I moaned into Logan's mouth as I felt the sensation of his cock in my hands. So firm, so hard, so smooth and warm. Every thought of John and Scott and that I'd lost my virginity just hours earlier was pushed back into some dusty corner of my mind. I wanted Logan to fuck me, it was all I could think about. Fucking Logan, and Logan fucking me.

He nearly threw me down on the floor and spread my legs wide open. I was so wet, my inner thighs were slicked with moisture. And I asked him. I begged him to fuck me, with a voice I didn't recognize but was in total agreement with.

"Fuck me", and I knew he would, and was probably going to fuck me wordless, if not unconscious. I didn't care which, just that he should finish what he'd started.

"Look at me when I do this," he said, his voice husky and feral, locking his mouth to mine as he thrust himself deep inside me. Over and over. Like he wanted to pierce me all the way through.

I bit his lower lip, filling my mouth with the sweet metallic taste of his blood as I raked my fingernails down his arms. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and sweet, like a drug that I couldn't get enough of. I felt that warm weight begin to build between my thighs and barely had time to catch my breath when I found myself flipped to lie facedown, flat on my stomach.

Logan swatted my ass a couple of times, hard enough that it was closer to pain than pleasure. "On your knees," I heard him say as he slid his hands alongside my body to cup my breasts.

I glanced past my shoulder and told him to bite me. He did, simultaneously plunging deep inside me, just as ferocious as before. I knew my screams and loud moans must've reached through the door, but I didn't give a damn. Not now, when I was finally doing what I'd always wanted to, and in a position that was almost painfully pleasurable. Maybe it had something to do with the feral part of me that originated with the Wolverine; he loved to take a woman from behind. He loved the view of her ass moving and to be able to watch his cock sliding in and out of her … the very thought of that – burning explosive images flashed before my eyes – drew a moan from my throat.

"Had enough?" he murmured. close to my ear. There was a thread of arrogance in his voice that made me turn my head and glare at him.

"Make me come," I replied, ordering him. It wouldn't take much effort there; I was not far from the free fall my whole being longed for.

Logan groaned as I slid off his cock and pushed him onto his back. I peeled off what was left of my nightie and straddled Logan's face. His hands immediately went up to grab my ass.

"I know what you want," he said, amused, and slid his fingers inside me. "So wet … quench my thirst, darlin'." And he nipped at my clit, licked every part like he really was thirsty, his eyes still locked with mine.

"Then don't stop," I moaned and buried my fingers in the carpet to keep myself upright. I had to brace myself from literally straddling his face. I didn't want to suffocate him in the middle of everything.

"Only if you'll suck me." Logan turned me around so that I was facing one of the most delicious parts on his body.

The sight of him made me gasp and without thinking I licked alongside his rock hard cock, licked it clean of my own wetness. The combination of that intimate taste and Logan's, as I closed my lips around his cock, was amazingly erotic. I was able to glance at him between my legs and caught his eyes for a brief moment.

"Mmm … my favorite flavor," I mumbled, before pulling him deeper inside my mouth. My thighs grew heavy with lust as Logan licked me; his tongue swirled over my clit while he finger fucked me. So good, it felt so good I didn't want it to end, but it did. I dug my nails into his thighs and screamed, his cock still in my mouth, as the orgasm shot through me. It rolled back and forth, like huge waves it crashed upon my shore over and over and over until I had almost no strength left in my legs. Somehow, I managed to remain in position, poised over Logan, his cock in my mouth.

Moments later. I sensed him grow thicker and knew he was about to come. Whose memory was it that made me so sure of how to deep throat a man? John's? Wolverine's? Erik's? Bobby's? Cody's? Not that it mattered really, I loved the sensation, everything about it; the texture, the smooth and firm yet hard feeling of it all. And it wasn't just any man's cock, it was Logan's. I heard him moan, felt him thrust upwards to the limit of what I could allow him, and it was suddenly only a matter of letting the warm thick fluid spill down my throat.

After I'd swallowed, I turned to look at Logan. So gorgeous. He was everything I'd ever wanted, how the hell was I gonna leave him after what we'd just done? Or was this just another quick fuck to him? Had he finally gotten his taste of the untouchable girl, and so was this it?

"C'mere," he grunted and hauled me into his arms. Kissed me gently so that our scents mingled together. Intimate and beautiful, a soon to be memory that I would cherish for the rest of my life. His heart beat against mine and without warning I sensed the deadly pull of my skin come to life. Logan gasped and I jerked away, terrified that I'd hurt him in any way.

I stared at him, and took that decision I didn't want to. "Logan, I can't stay."

He frowned lazily. "What do you mean `you can't stay'?"

I got my feet, unsteady and still high on the sex we'd had. Got dressed, put my robe back on, and grabbed the bag.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this … I'm … Look, I'm sorry Logan, but this is goodbye," I said quietly, unable to hide my pain at having to leave.

Logan was on his feet in one quick motion; his hair a mess, face set and stern again. "Goodbye? What the fuck are you talking about?" he said angrily and came to stand in front of me.

"You don't want *this*, don't you think I know … that I know you still long for her. I'm sorry, you know I am, more than I could say, but I have to leave." And with that I turned my back on him so that he wouldn't capture me with those dark, flaming eyes. I still managed to catch a glimpse of the tormented, confused expression that flashed across his face. And the image burned the inside of my eyes as I closed the door behind me. Then, there were only tears.



Chapter 6

I crossed the gravel walk with a thousand and one thoughts on my mind. Logan. Me. Us. And then … Scott. John. And oh god, Jubes … I nearly stumbled as it dawned on me what I had done. All of those things were enough to exile me to the cold, into the arms of winter. To somewhere people like me deserved to be. Out of reach. Behind a soundproof glass wall. My cell phone rang, the display informing me it was John. Okay, just do it. Tell him and be gone.

"Rogue? Baby? You there?"

I heard myself sigh. "Yes."

"Where are you?" he asked, and I could hear his sleepy yawn.

I'm just outside. "I had to … leave," I told him quietly and glanced over my shoulder at the mansion. A few windows were lit here and there. The kitchen. Living room. John's room. But not my room, or Logan's room as it once had been. It stared at me, pitch black and accusatory. Demanding an explanation.

"What do you mean leave? You didn't tell me you were leaving, and in the middle of the night? Rogue, what the hell are you up to?"

"Look, John, I can't really talk right now, I just … I just can't stay anymore. I can't be what you want me to be. I don't deserve you when I … when I …"

I heard him curse over the phone, and I knew he toyed with the lighter when he did that. "What are you talking about? And what's this crap talk about deserving and … you … you don't want to be with me anymore is that it?" he said angrily, but I heard the disappointment beneath it all. Dear god, please forgive me, I thought, and wiped my cheeks dry.

"I don't know what I want, but I know I can't stay and live a lie anymore. I just can't, I'm sorry John … I'm so sorry," I mumbled.

"We were a lie, is that what you're saying?"

"No, never that. You've always been very real, but I … I should've dealt with my own demons before letting myself get involved with someone. I'm sorry…"

"Okay, fine, we'll talk about this when you get back," he said impatiently.

"I won't be, but we'll talk … eventually," I said and knew that was true. I wasn't going to return to the school. I was on the run again.

"Rogue, no, stop this shit now and tell me where you are!"

"I'm so sorry John, but I have to go. Forgive me please. Goodbye." And I hung up on him before I had a change of heart. He would live, and so would Scott and Jubes and Logan …

I called a cab to take me down to the bus station, but I had no idea where to go, or how far, or what I was going to when I got there. It was just like when I'd left my hometown all those years ago, except that now there wasn't going to be a rescue at a dingy bar in some small town. There was no Laughlin City ahead of me; Logan was still at the mansion and I … Times had changed. I had changed since then; that young girl I used to be she was getting more and more estranged. Back then I had no brick walls to hide behind, and now that I did … for every memory resurfacing that was connected to Logan in some way there was a small crack in the very foundation of my castle. Without knowing he'd begun tearing it down. But was he aware of what he was about to discover behind all that cold dead stone? Could he afford to pay the ransom? I didn't doubt that he would seek out Charles and order him to use Cerebro to track me down - I knew he wasn't finished with me. He'd try and locate me on his own as well, and I didn't want to know why he would do that, why he would bother.

Within the hour, I was on my way to somewhere. With every mile I felt my heart crumple bit by bit. I didn't bother hiding that I was crying either, there were only a couple other passengers on the bus and they paid no attention to me. I sobbed and sniveled and had no handkerchief with me to wipe away the snot and tears.

It was a mess, everything was a mess and I hated myself. Not only for what I'd done to Logan, Scott, John and Jubes, but most of all because I'd humiliated myself to such an extent that nothing mattered anymore. So this is what it's like to hit rock bottom, I thought absently, and wondered if I was ever going to be able to leave this dark and icy cold place.



A brownish carpet that had seen better days, a worn out mattress and a broken TV – it was a sleazy, cheap motel room by every standard. The Drive Right Inn was just another motel on the side of the road out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere north of Westchester. I let out a breath as I closed the door behind me, then buried my face in my hands; a part of me was relieved to be alone, away from everything. ~Everyone~ And still … How had it even come to this in the first place? Did I care? Should I? I wasn't really sure about anything anymore, as it was, I could barely feel my own heart beat.

I was just so tired.

Dropping the bag on floor next to the bed I headed towards the bathroom and a much needed clean up. Sleazy motel or not, I was glad to find a pile of neatly-folded towels – clean, if worn - on a small bench next to the shower. The bathroom mirror was a judgmental eye following my every move, cold and almost calculating – I ignored it as much I could, undressed and stepped into the shower. And there, my nemesis returned. It was hard to keep the memories at bay 24/7 and at some point everyday I would run out of the strength to fight them.

Memories of Cody … memories of kissing Bobby … memories of nearly killing Logan … memories of absorbing John's power and overwhelming anger … memories of being stabbed, and the sound of ribs cracking … memories of being on the run … of his embrace … of fingertips against my cheeks … Memories of something I used to believe in.

All make believe …

I don't know how long I stood there in the shower with hot water running down my face and body; some things won't go away no matter how hard you try to erase them. I smoothed a hand across the tiny tattoo – a snowflake – and closed my eyes at the very thought of what it meant. Winter's always was my favorite time of year for many reasons; but it wasn't until I came to Canada that I finally got to experience it for real. It took my breath away, and I felt something clasp deep within me, something that I'd never felt down in the south. A moment of total bliss perhaps, or instant connection to a landscape that varied so vastly to what I was used to. The calm and the beauty when life's been put on hold; I wonder if that's what the silence of the grave is like. Nothing fearful at all, just quiet, and cold. I'd been at the heart of winter most of my life so I didn't fear death. There are other things I fear more.

I wasn't always like this you know; introvert and silent. But I can hardly recall what I was like, what my life was like before everything changed. When my mutation manifested itself. When I kissed Cody. When I watched him turn blue and nearly suffocate. The few things about my childhood I *do* remember come to me when I dream, like tiny bubbles slowly rising from underneath a black watery surface. They're mostly surrounded by a sense of joy and happiness, and then … then they morph into something dark, that I don't want to face. But there's also that tiny spark, like a firefly it helps me breathe and it soothes me and I feel loved whenever it's near.

I got out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. As I used my hands to wipe the steam off the bathroom mirror, a sharp pain shot through my right thumb, a nail snagging the sensitive skin. A single drop of blood trickled down my wrist. There was something very real about it; the taste of sweet metal on my tongue. Something disturbingly sensual, almost sexual. Way too feral. Maybe that was just a residue of Wolverine's constant presence in the back of my head.

I would have let him draw blood from me if only he'd stayed true to his word and what he was. It's not like I begged him to love me or want me, or even like me. I've never expected that from him or any other man. I just couldn't imagine him denying our friendship the way he did. An honest man. A good man; someone to rely on, to trust your life with.

Yeah …

~ … where did you go Logan? What are you hiding from Wolverine? …~

Yes, where had my friend gone to? Where was my love now?

I towel dried my hair, unable to get my mind off what Logan used to be, what he once meant to me, and if I was honest, still did. What I meant to him. At one point when we were on our way to Alkali Lake there was still some kind of hope within me, though I knew where he said he wanted to be – not in my arms.

I loved him, and I still love him so much I sometimes hate him. Because he's not mine. Because he used to be mine, ever since I first laid eyes on him, he's been the keeper of my heart. I love him and I don't know how to free myself from that need. I used to force myself not to feel anything as I watched him around other women; nothing I had could compete with them. Why would someone like Logan even want to look twice at someone like me? He could have anyone, and I would never have blamed them for wanting him. Having his memories made it so much harder.

~ … but if I close my eyes, if I concentrate I can feel your hands on my skin, soothing my body, and I can feel your fingertips brush my belly and your warm breath and moist lips against my collarbone. And I can feel your hands in mine, and I can taste you, and I feel how you fit with me. In me …~

To please that need was like a drug, and I hated giving in to it – a fantasy of something that would never be – but weak as I was, I couldn't stop because that was what was left for me; an image of Logan and I before the lies began. A beautiful memory of the only man I've ever truly loved. Being at the school made it ten times more difficult; I shielded my thoughts, my mind and feelings as much as I could. There were too many mind readers present. While the thought of having our integrity challenged was scary, I was more angry than anything: I hated the idea of having someone dig around inside my head. As if it wasn't enough to have other personalities constantly present in there already. Not to mention my own twisted psyche.

I remembered being in class once, with Dr Grey as our teacher. Everyone sat quietly in their places reading, making notes, waiting for the next break. I felt like someone was watching me but couldn't detect anyone doing it, Jubes and Kitty and the rest seemed to be studying, just as I was supposed to be. Then I heard, and I froze. A whisper like a soft breeze, it was there, then gone the next moment.

~… there is nothing you have that he wants … he belongs to me … me … me … me … ~ I closed my hand around the dog tag and told her to get the fuck out of my head. She left to the sound of muffled laughter; just the way I had heard her do around him when she thought no one was watching. There was no dog tag anymore; Logan told me he'd gotten rid of it up at Alkali Lake. It didn't really matter anyway, not a lot of things did, but at least I felt somewhat stable now … somewhat sane.



Chapter 7

Showering had been a good idea, it usually was the cure for a lot of things, but it hadn't washed away my agony. Not this time. I still dreaded going to bed alone, and I'd never been anything but alone in bed before so why would something like that bother me? The dreams would be there then, and they'd feast on me and my conscience like starving vultures.

I dragged my gaze from the hateful mirror and tried to leave my dark thoughts behind in the bathroom. I didn't need them haunting me as I headed to bed. At least I didn't smell, at least I felt clean on the outside. At least I had taken a decision and left the mansion.

No leave taking.

No love for the soulless.

~Feast. On. My. Guilt.~

It was an offer, a sacrifice of a kid – I had time to repent the things I'd done. A life time without life.

I hadn't bothered with the lights in the room so there was a brief moment of confused silence before I realized I wasn't alone. Murderer, rapist, burglar – all sorts of things crossed my mind and the panic nearly made me faint. And when I realized who it was, that didn't help a whole lot.

It was his familiar silhouette that gave it away - with a signature haircut like that, it was hard to mistake Logan for someone else. He shifted his attention from the view out the window to gaze at me. In the dark, there were no clues to help me determine what sort of mood he was in. All I could see was his profile, and the flare of his cigar as he took a deep drag. He exhaled the smoke upwards, then came to stand in front of me.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" I stammered, short of breath. What the fuck was this all about?

"This … you … this has got to stop. It's got to fuckin' stop," he said, but it sounded like he didn't believe the words himself.

"You're drunk, Logan." He'd been drinking and probably a lot for it to have such an effect on him, considering the benefits of his healing factor. However, I knew it wouldn't last that long and that he'd be sober, and hopefully saner, within the hour.

He shrugged and gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well…"

"And what do you mean `this has got to stop?' I told you to … I thought I told you to leave me alone," I said quietly, and took a step back.

Logan eyed me a long time - seconds or minutes, I wasn't sure - before he leaned into me with a crooked smile on his face and whispered: "You're not a very good liar … Marie."

I frowned at him. "Liar?"

"You know what I mean, you can't hide from me, so don't lie …"

"Lie to you? Just who the hell do you think you are to talk to me about lies?" I said heatedly and thanked myself for leaving the lights out.

Logan took the cigar from his mouth and pointed at me with it, as if he intended to make a statement. The dim light of the room couldn't take away the fact that I felt his arrogance and disbelief, just like I had way back when we were on our way from Laughlin City. He was still the same control freak, but this time his need to be in charge failed him. He lowered his hand and sighed.

I wet my lips. "Well, aren't you gonna defend yourself? After all, that's what you do best …" I said challengingly, fully aware of the effect my words might have on him, as well as his alter ego.

"I … look … I have no excuse … for what I did," he said between his teeth. "I have no real excuse for any of the things I did, and this … thing … that I am, I can't stop that. I can't fuckin' erase that part of me, because the more I try the angrier he gets, and the angrier he is, the more strong willed he becomes and I can only stand by and watch it all … happen."

"Then why did you do it? Why did you sleep with that woman when she meant nothing to you? Why did you tell her the things you did when they were only meant to hurt me?" Damn him for what he'd done to me, for taking me for granted, for showing up like this, now, when he knew how I felt. The tension between us suddenly became palpable and like a black hole it slowly drained me of willpower.

Like I gave a damn about Wolverine. I was sick of how Logan tried to excuse his actions by blaming that part of him. It was, and had always been, Logan who was the superior force.

"You know, I could ask you the same thing or was I just imagining that smug, cat-got- the-fuckin'-cream look on that pansy's face? You know he hates my guts. And was it yet another lie; you and that traitorous little fucker? Was it?" Logan retorted quietly and took another deep drag on the cigar. It lit up his face for a second and our eyes locked.

I slapped him as hard as I could, and swallowed the pain. Logan simply grunted then shook his head.

"Don't … don't you dare play me that way … you … you bastard." The rage and humiliation rode my body and made my pulse speed up and breathing hitch. I tried to back away but found myself effectively trapped between the wall and a man who juggled my heart with one hand and my sanity with the other.

"Then don't deny it," he murmured, and seized both of my wrists in one of his hands and raised them above my head.

I stared at him, not sure what he intended to do. From Wolverine's memories I knew he loved to walk that thin line between pleasure and pain, between passion and loathing, between fear and curiosity. Between love and hate. He was all about danger, he craved it like food. And I had tasted it, and felt it ripple through my body, down my thighs and back again. He'd never really hurt me physically, I knew that, but still … There wasn't anything I could do to break free except hope for my power to kick in. And my skin was as normal as it could be. Nothing happened.

"Don't lie, darlin'," he murmured and leaned into me, close enough for us to kiss.

"I'm … I'm not the one lyin'," I said breathily and tried to ignore the fact that I was wearing nothing but a short, threadbare towel. No bra, no panties. Shit and double shit.

Logan put out the cigar against the wall then stuffed the stump in one of the back pockets of his jeans. He still had me trapped as he let the other hand slowly trail the curve of my hip.

"But you are …" he said insistently and reached under the hem of the towel to slide his hand between my thighs.

I felt my eyes widen and mouth drop at what he was doing. A sound escaped my throat as I sensed that wet, warm, delicious weight begin to build at the apex of my thighs, and I hated him for it.

Loved him for it.

"Bastard …" I whispered, but it came out sounding more like a moan.

Logan flashed me a smile, obviously pleased to have the advantage over me again. He withdrew his hand from me and held it in front of my face, and I hated him even more for that.

"Not Iceman's …" – and he brushed his fingers across my lower lip forcing me to taste my own arousal – "… not Cyke's …" – he continued and kept painting me with my need – "… not St fuckin' John's …" Logan stared wildly at me and bared his teeth, one of Wolverine's traits, then slowly licked each finger clean.

I couldn't take my eyes off of what he was doing. I should've been furious or embarrassed about it, but I wasn't, not completely. The anger fed my desire and I wanted him to finish what he'd started. I gasped as he grabbed me by the waist and pressed me against the wall.
He breathed through his nose, that strained and sometimes angry sound telling me a different story this time, and I felt he was more than ready.

"Not anyone's but mine," he said, and parted my lips with his mouth and tongue.

And I was kissing him, and he kissed me, deep and brutally like he was trying to crawl inside my mouth. The faint taste of blood and the sensation of him was a serious threat to my mental health. Like the last time, I wanted to yell at him to fuck me. But now, I couldn't have that. Not like this …

Logan released his grip on me and slid both hands down my back to cup my ass underneath the towel. My own hands knew where they needed to be and I seized two handfuls of his hair to pull him even closer to me. Out of all the times I'd fantasized about what kissing him would be like, nothing compared to the real thing, or maybe he was just a natural – one thing I knew from both Logan's and Wolverine's memories was that they rarely kissed a woman because of the level of intimacy it brought. Fucking could be about feelings if it became necessary; fucking without feelings wasn't a problem. Was I that? Was I a problem to be dealt with? We had fucked once, so what did that one time mean?

Logan scooped me up into his arms, and I wrapped my legs around his waist to support myself as he carried me to the bed. He put me down and hesitated, staring at me, before removing his leather jacket, and then the t-shirt underneath.

He was flawless.

Gorgeous fuckin' delicious man.

Logan was as eye catching now as the first time I spotted him in that mesh cage, and one of the few times after that I'd seen him semi naked, not counting the one time I'd seen him in the nude. No man I'd ever seen with a bare chest could compete with the one I was looking at. No one. Everything about Logan was sexual, sensual, salacious. Physical. Fuckable.

With one quick motion he parted the towel that barely hid my body. I didn't have to look to know my nipples were probably as perky as they would ever get; shamelessly begging to be licked. I didn't say a word. I didn't protest though I knew a part of me was wagging a finger to get me to say no.

I did nothing; I waited, as Logan nudged my legs apart with his hands and began to trace the sensitive parts of my thighs. I gritted my teeth as he stopped, but my sudden annoyance at the loss of his hands on my body disappeared the moment I felt him on top of me. An involuntary moan escaped my throat as he pinned my hands above my head and used his weight to hold me down.

"You still gonna deny it?" he murmured amusedly, an inch away from my half-parted lips.

"What do ya want me to say?"

"Marie …"

Marie? Oh yeah, that was my name. Now I remembered …

"Damn it, Logan, you are a serious threat to my sanity," I told him as sternly as possible. He was a threat in every sense of the word.

"The moment you came out of the bathroom, I knew. I sensed it when we first met, and you were just a teenager, a nosy girl who had enough daring to stow away in my trailer. And then I thought, maybe it was more than daring, because I could smell you, smell what you wanted." He paused, torturing me with that knowledge, my own complicity in this seduction. "I knew then what you wanted, and I've known ever since. I've tasted it, so say it Marie. Say it. I know what you want, and I can give it to you, you know I can."

"Or what?"

Logan quirked his eyebrows. "You don't wanna know darlin'."

I shot him an angry glance. "You arrogant son of a bitch … You'd like to hear me say it wouldn't you?" I sneered. I could play this stupid game just as well as he could. "But you know what?" I parried, enraged by his over-confidence, the arrogance in every line of his body, the arched eyebrow and slightly pursed lips.

"What?" he grunted.

I reached up to lick across his mouth. "I'm not the one who came crawling back, sugar."

Logan tightened his grip on me and I felt a wave of triumph wash through me. He had been unable to disguise his reaction to what I had said, and I knew how much he hated to lose control like that, to be put in his place. I could only guess how Wolverine felt about it. Ten times worse no doubt.

"Don't …" he said in a low pitched voice and ground his crotch against mine.

"Why not? It's true …" I said teasingly, flirting, but still fighting the waves of pleasure I felt ripple through my body.

"Look, kid, don't fuckin' start with me, okay?"

"Then don't act like everything's about you all the time. I have your memories, Logan. I know about your macho-protectiveness thing. I know you want to own me, control me." Actually, I wasn't so sure about Logan, but I knew that Wolverine wanted to.

"Marie …"

"…And I know that you take what you want then let someone else pick up the pieces," I finished, panting. With each breath, my nipples brushed his bare chest.

Logan snorted and got up on his knees and unbuttoned his jeans, all the while staring ferociously at me. That he was furious didn't change the fact that he was hard and ready, as ready as it was possible to be. The mere sight of him, gloriously naked, stroking himself in front of me, wound the tension between my thighs tighter and tighter, until I was sure he could sense my desire. He was suddenly on top of me, and seized my wrists again.

"You don't know everything about me, but I know a hell of a lot about you Marie, or Rogue, or whoever you pretend to be," Logan said through gritted teeth.

"Likewise," I snapped at him.

He made an irritated sound in his throat. "Okay. So do you want me to fuck you?"

"Find out for yourself," I replied sweetly.

So he reached down between us, and slid his hand between my thighs, his fingers penetrating deep enough to make me jerk. He inhaled hoarsely and tried to speak. "Wet … you're so … wet …", he growled and nuzzled my neck. I felt teeth brush my skin, and it made me shiver, out of lust or fear, I couldn't tell which.

I was about to fire back at him but the sudden sensation of his fingers moving inside me, and his thumb rubbing my clit, drew a moan instead. I tried not to respond, but I was only seconds away from getting off and it just felt so … good, so amazingly good. Some part of me knew I ought to have been pissed at Logan for taking advantage of me like he was; unfortunately that part of me had already left the building and the rest of me couldn't have cared any less. I just wanted him to kiss me while I climaxed so I could scream into his mouth, but he suddenly removed his hand and eyed me with that arrogant look upon his face again.

"Why did you stop?" I said breathily and didn't even bother trying to hide my annoyance. That made me even more irritated as I watched that his smugness shift into something pleased, amused maybe. Most definitely satisfied. It was my turn to grit my teeth.

"I'd say you're about as ready as you can get darl –"

"Don't you `darlin'' me *bub*, just … just …" I interrupted and tried to twist free, but the iron grip on my wrists made it futile. The attempt only made the grin on his face widen.

He smoothed my thigh with a slowness I was sure was deliberate. "Then say it Marie."

I made an exasperated sound in my throat, sheer sexual frustration. He had no right to do this to me.

"Say it …"

"You are so god damn full of yourself I can't believe it … The way you come barging in here expecting me to fall into your arms and forget what you did to me, but how the hell am I supposed to do that? Are you just going to fuck the problem away?" I was agitated and hurt by his ignorance. Hurt by the way he seemed to take me for granted.

"If that's what you want," he said.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. "Your solution to every problem in your life; fuck the girl and everything will be peachy keen …"

"I didn't say that …"

"Excuse me? Didn't you just ask me that a minute ago? Well? Aren't you gonna fuck me and be done with it?" I spat at him.

Logan froze or hesitated for a couple of seconds then shoved my legs further apart.

"Fine," he growled and reached down between us and grabbed his cock.

I wasn't about to show him the way, I didn't even look at him but at the ugly wallpaper instead. This wasn't how I'd pictured it to be, my second time, and never like this with the love of my life. But what was love? Was it worth anything? Humiliation and despair couldn't even begin to describe what I felt, I just … waited for him to do what he wanted to do with me. But most of all I felt so … empty, so small, because I loved him and I wanted him to love me. I wanted love. Only love. Love.

Logan was suddenly on his knees between my legs. He covered my naked body with the towel and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I … I'm sorry … Marie … I can't … I can't do this … just can't … I'm sorry," he mumbled and moved away from me, jerking his jeans closed as he went.

I wasn't sure about what he was apologizing for. All I knew was that I couldn't go on with nothing but a memory of his hands on my skin.

"Don't go, Logan," I said quietly. My voice was cracking up and behind the crumbling wall … shadows and demons, voices and a nameless fear that knew me. Knew what I feared the most.



Chapter 8

He didn't make a move to face me as he put the leather jacket back on, and headed for the door.

"Say something," I pleaded, crawling off the bed when he refused to answer me. I blocked his way out and tried to catch his eyes but Logan only kept avoiding me. Glancing over my shoulder as if he had some place better to be.

"Don't do this to me! Don't," I pleaded. "You've been gone for so long and I … I'd almost managed to forget about … no, no I won't let you do this again." I was frantic, hammering his chest with my fists.

"Stop it, Marie," Logan snapped and brushed past me. My sorrow and desperation began to crystallize into anger.

"How can you be so goddamn cruel? Have you no conscience what so ever, Logan?!" I yelled to his back as he opened the door. "You know damn well I watched you with that woman, you knew I overheard every fuckin' word you said to her!"

Logan whirled around to face me, teeth bared and eyes narrow.

"And YOU" – he poked me in the chest – "seem to forget that *I* had to watch you around the Drake boy, all the while Cyke was lurking around, like a fuckin' tomcat just waiting to jump you. Just to spite me! Then I find out about Pyro, that little fucker … dammit, Marie! How the hell could you let him touch you? Why did you share that first moment with a guy like that?" he growled, and balled up his fists.

I was so angry my hands were shaking as I gestured to make him understand. "Scott's been nothing but a good *friend* to me Logan, and I won't have you badmouthing him like that. How do you think he felt when you decided to steal his fiancée from him, huh?" I spat at him.

"Okay fine, you've made your point. I see that now." Logan shook his head in disbelief then left me standing there in the doorway.

No.

No! I wasn't about to let Logan disappear out of my life again. Not like this. I hurried after him, knowing he knew I was following right behind, barefoot and dressed in nothing but the damp threadbare towel.

"I used to think you were so courageous, a hero, and still you couldn't come directly to me and tell me you didn't want me back then. Instead you let *her* do it," I called to his rigid back.

He hesitated and came to a halt. "What are you talkin' about?" he said and glanced past his shoulder.

"You told her to tell me you didn't want me, that you wanted to be with her instead," I said, unable to hide the pain in my voice, or the tears that kept blurring my vision.

Logan turned to look at me. "I … no … no! I never did that," he said quietly and smoothed a hand across his face.

"Aren't you forgetting something? I touched you on several occasions after Liberty Island."

He frowned. "So?"

I pointed towards my head. "I have your goddamn memories, not to mention that I had her fuckin' voice in my head once. How the hell do you think that made me feel, and makes me feel now?" I wanted to slap him again, but I was far from innocent in all this. The mess we were in seemed to be irrevocable.

"I can't change what I did," he simply said and continued walking.

"FINE! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I yelled at him, not bothering about any spectators. Let them watch, I don't give a damn anymore. But the words echoed inside me; a wasteland and as cold as winter's heart would ever get. I just remained where I was, frozen to the spot, motionless and numb.

I didn't even see him stalking towards me, livid and full of despair. He grabbed me by the shoulders and leaned into me.

"Don't you understand that I am already there?" he said through clenched teeth.

I met his feral gaze and wished I hadn't. "Then don't do this to me … again," I sobbed, and curled my fingers into his wifebeater, clinging as if that would keep him with me.

~don't don't don't~

Logan seized my wrists. "Marie, look at me … you … you know why I have to," he said.

I shook my head and refused to comply, to face the truth. Logan then tilted my chin to force me into meeting his gaze; untamed, but tired and beyond dark. It scared me.

"Yes you do," he said firmly.

"If you do this, I will hate you for as long I'll live, because I know it's not the right path for you to take," I said slowly.

Something flashed across his face. "Whatever you need to do … do it, but not that, Marie, no hate …"

"Then just kiss me one more time, and then get the hell away from me."

And he did. Logan must've sensed something because I felt him caress my hair the way he used to do way back when we were honest with each other. When nothing else mattered.

"Marie …" he mumbled against my lips.

"Don't leave me," I whispered tearfully and entwined my hands in his hair to prevent him from leaving.

"Marie, I'm sorry," he said quietly, and made me loosen my grip.

I stared at him. "No …"

He seemed sad and tired all of a sudden. "I can't do this to you."

"No, you can't, you can't leave me again," I pleaded and reached out to touch him.

Logan sighed and cupped my face. "It won't work," he said softly.

I traced his cheeks. "Do you hate me so much you can't even stand being around me?"

He smiled, a rare thing, but it appeared to be bitter rather than as an expression of happiness. "You know the answer to that, Marie."

There was a moment of silence. Of flashbacks and memories, and it wasn't the sex I was thinking about, it was that time at the Statue of Liberty. It was that time when I'd caught a glimpse of his eyes, the panic, when the Black Bird was under attack I got sucked out of the plane.

"Then why are you doin' this?" I finally said.

"Because you deserve something better, something normal and … and I ain't normal," he said hoarsely, sliding hands down to rest in the curve of my spine.

"But I don't … How do you know what I want? I don't want normal or something better. There's only one thing that I want. What I have always wanted."

There it was again, that bittersweet smile. God it hurt to look at him, so beautiful, so much everything I longed for …

"Sweetheart …"

"But don't you understand, Logan? That if you go, if you decide to leave me again, it'll be the end," I said, and tried to suppress the panic that was just below the surface.

"Don't say that …"

"Then don't go. Don't. Fuckin'. Go. Please."

Logan became very still and expressionless, but his hands still traced my back. I guided them to the tattoo above my heart.

"I love you, dammit," I continued, my own fingers itching with the need to erase that blank look on his face. It frightened me. What was he hiding from? I had no more cards to play, no more untold secrets. "Logan … say something …"

His fingers traced the tiny snowflake. "I'm so sorry for everything and maybe I should be sorry for giving you a ride out of Laughlin City …"

"Don't be," I murmured.

"You know I have so many faults I …" His voice sounded so strained I felt like I was choking, and I had enough trouble breathing as it was.

"I don't care."

Logan frowned slightly at me. "I nearly forced myself on you not that long ago … that's a big deal to me. I don't want to be like that. I hate what it does to me, to be what I am."

"But it's part of who you are and I didn't mind, and I've never wished for that part of you to be gone. I love him too," I murmured and shifted my feet.

"No shoes in the middle of winter … you'll get frostbite, Marie," he noted with an arched eyebrow.

"And if I do, I know someone who's a world class healer."

He gave a low laugh, a bitter and tired sound. "And that's about it."

I snuggled up against Logan's chest and inhaled the warm, masculine scent of him. "I don't want you to go," I mumbled into his shirt.

"I already know that but - "

"But what?

He carefully placed a kiss on my forehead. "It's not because I don't want your friendship," he said slowly.

I tilted my head to glance at him through my lashes. "Then what?"

He brushed a thumb across my cheek. "You know why, and as you keep telling me you have my memories so you should know why …"

"I know what you are, what you've been through, shouldn't that count for something? Don't you remember when we first met?" I said.

He smiled. "That wasn't what I was referring to, but I'm sorry that you have to share my nightmares. You know I never ever wanted that for you. Never."

"Then what are you talking about?" I tried racking my brain for any kind of memory of me that belonged to Logan or Wolverine, but it was like trying to peer through an interrogation room window.

"I'd rather leave than be forced to watch you together with John or Scott … because," he swallowed, voice straining "because I can never give you what you share with them. I'd only bring chaos into your world, Marie," he finished softly.

"No. No, I don't care, Logan, I don't love Scott, I don't love John," I said despairingly. "I don't love them the way I love you, Logan. The way I've always loved you, since I was sixteen. My life was chaotic before I even knew you existed, and when we met," – and I gently traced his cheeks – "finally there was someone who saw me for what I was. Just me, and not some freak. Me, Logan, just me."

Logan eyed me seriously. I could've sworn there was this tiny, tiny thread of anxiousness somewhere behind all that anger, behind that grim façade.

"You could have that with Scott too … maybe John, but definitely Scott."

I sighed and rolled my eyes at his almost unbelievable consistency in pushing me away. "I'd get bored within the hour."

Logan frowned and snorted. "With John, not likely. With Scooter … come to think of it I have to agree, he ain't that much fun," he said, still sounding gruff.

Even if he was, Scott's heart belonged to someone else. "And besides he's only got eyes for Jubes so …"

To my surprise Logan threw his head back and laughed; a rich deep sound that sent a slight warm shiver down my spine. It had been years since I had heard him laugh like that. He sounded genuinely happy all of a sudden. I snuggled up closer to him and just enjoyed the moment – the firefly from my dreams. And I felt … something fragile … shift between us. I held my breath, and waited.

"Jubes? As in Jubilee?" Logan asked curiously and I nodded in response. "Well I'll be damned …. I guess I'll have to give Scooter some credit."

I wet my lips and asked when he intended to do that.

Logan brushed his lips across my ear and whispered what I wanted to hear. What I had ached for, for so long. I sensed him smile as he told me.



Chapter 9

Home.

Home?

That one word echoed inside my head. I didn't want to go back there, alone. But I had to be sure, had to make sure the ground would support me, rather than swallow me whole.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you really mean what you just said?" I was careful to mask my anxiety - it wasn't that long ago that I'd told him to leave and never come back. I still didn't trust him, or me, when it came to us.

He let out the breath he'd been holding. Hesitation? Regret? Trepidation? Please don't have doubts about this, please Logan, I begged silently.

"What I said." Just like that. We were acting like two cats circling each other; watching, preparing to fight if necessary.

"So … so you won't take off?" and I felt him hesitate, flinch, at my words.

"No." he murmured against my hair. "I wish I could change some of the things I did, but I can't. All I can do is to try and make sure it won't happen again."

"I'm sorry," I whispered and buried my face against his chest. I was more than sorry for so many things that I'd done.

Logan remained silent, one hand stroking my hair, the other one wrapped around my shoulders. It hurt so much to give in, to cope with the silence. To turn my back on the life I used to lead up until now. Was it even possible to do that? I had no memories of what normality was like; I didn't remember being loved, though I knew I must've been. Once. Once, before Rogue came into the picture. And being loved again was as much horrifying as it was a dream. That dream I longed for.

"There's something I want to change as soon as possible," he said and tilted my face up against his.

"What?"

Logan entwined a stray lock of hair between his fingers, and smiled. "This is supposed to be white."

I returned the smile and touched his unshaved cheek, traced the firm lips. A mouth I knew. He had always been the most intriguing man I'd ever known; so conflicted in so many ways. Hate and fear. He wore vigilance like a straitjacket; it had been a constant, callous companion. One that kept whispering orders: push the boundaries. Bleed but don't beg. Kill without mercy. Feel but don't regret. No room for love. Friendship. Peace. Life. No room for dreams. A future. Just pain and destruction and loneliness without end.

And there it was.

The end.

A beginning.

We were so much alike. Had always been. That was why it had hurt so much, the things we'd done.

"So we're going back home?" he finally said. So uncertain. In spite of what he was, what he was to other people – indestructible, uncaring, coldhearted – there was still a part of him, of Logan, that I owned. That belonged only to me, that was meant for my heart and my survival only. For me and no one else.

"Yes, take me home," I replied and I felt him react to my words. For Logan, it was like waking up in the middle of the night and realizing he was awake for no specific reason at all. No nightmares. No memories. Nothing evil. I knew he longed for that.

"I'm sorry for everything, Marie. Forgive me, please forgive me for what I did. That I pushed you away. That ignored you. Used you. God, I'm so sorry for all of those things," he said, and sounded so tired and strained, I was frightened he might collapse.

"It's okay. I'm not mad. I don't care about that, not now. We can talk later." There would be time for that. "And I'm sorry too, about all this and that I ever gave John or Bobby or Scott a chance to believe I'd forgotten about you. I knew back then it was just a lie, what shared with them, and a way to cope with the fact that you … that you didn't want me … the way you wanted *her*. And I wanted so badly to be worthy of you, and not just end up being a charity case, Logan."

I couldn't stop touching him and it was so surreal knowing that he wanted a fresh start like me. That nothing else mattered but the moment we were in.

"Don't be sorry, don't be that," he said softly, but I could tell my apology did him good. It seemed to ease the pain and soften the tension around his eyes.

"I love you so much," was the only thing that came to mind when I met his gaze. "I love you, Logan," I whispered again.

"If you only knew, and if you'd known even before Liberty Island what it cost me to do what I did. To say the things I said and to make the promises I made to you and everyone else. If you'd known what it did to me when all I really wanted and longed for was stability and your trust and love. I just … I've never known love, not like that Marie. All I've ever known and recognized as something real was hurt and hurting people. And I hurt you, baby, in so many ways I –"

I smiled and kissed him lightly. "You don't have to hurt anymore, Logan. And we don't have to hurt each other anymore."

Logan cupped my face. "You have held my heart, what makes me into what I am, for as long as I've known you. Always, Marie. Always you. I felt you were too good for me, too young maybe, but always too good. And I'm not talking about you like some pure untouched creature, you've as many scars as me and maybe that was it. You were just like me. Like a mirror image. The most frightening and wonderful thing that could've ever happened to me. Love, Marie, only love. That's all I need to survive."

I don't think I'd heard him talk like that before. He was known as a man of few words, but I knew him better than most. The quietness had nothing to do with him not having any opinions, or anything of value to say. Logan just chose his words carefully, though sometimes the other way round. Sometimes he never cared to explain. Sometimes he said too much. Sometimes they'd been meant to hurt.

And sometimes they meant everything.

Sometimes they had the power to mend a broken heart, a twisted mind, a darkened soul and all the things that fed on fear and doubt. The things I felt. The things he felt.

And sometimes they had the power to undo mistrust, make you give in and embrace the unknown – a reality that had always been there but was too forbidden to face. Like a flicker at the corner of your vision. A firefly. That buried and still vivid hope of rescue and acceptance. Of belonging. Of love.

Sometimes they had the power to alter everything. Where there had been nothing but an arctic, empty wasteland the icy crust had begun to melt. The winter would eventually succumb and reveal what was hidden underneath. A beating heart.

I knew all that, and I also knew what had set me free.

"Only love," I said to him, closed my eyes and just enjoyed being in the moment with Logan. Only love.