Class 4
1-Want it more

Rogue sat on the roll-away medical bed, hands twitching nervously. In a room as big as a cafeteria, they'd managed to squeeze in only some twenty beds. Each was divided by the typical cloth and metal screens. The rest of the space was taken up by desks and secretaries and guards. She sighed, closing her eyes and tried to mentally talk her nerves down.

I want this. I want this. The mantra she'd been repeating to herself since she'd walked out the front door of the mansion was starting to wear thin. She could strangle Logan for making her doubt herself so much.

When she thought about it, she'd willingly admit it had, in part, to do with a boy. She'd used it to make herself less responsible for the decision. But Logan had stopped her in the hall and ripped that illusion right out from under her. He wasn't going to let her say it was for anyone but her.

She cocked half a smile. In that moment she'd turned and walked out, standing in the driveway waiting for her taxi. She'd rubbed her gloved fingers together and then pulled them to her front to look down upon them.

Gloved fingers covered in satin. Her sense of fashion had grown around things like gloves and scarves. They hid her lethal skin to protect herself as much as to protect everyone else. There really was only so much room in one's head.

Her efforts to control her skin had stalled a while ago. She'd managed to stop sucking the personalities and memories into her head of fellow mutants at will. Well, kind of.

Contact had to be brief, a couple seconds. Just enough to leech out the mutation and nothing else -- but she had to be concentrating. With humans, however, it was outright uncontrollable. The accidental brush and her unprepared skin ripped at everything the person had.

She had learned to accept the limitations of her powers. Didn't everyone have to?

Storm had so much power, but while she could bring about change in the weather -- even summon and focus forces as fierce as lighting -- they still kept their unpredictable nature, rendering it difficult for her in one-on-one combat.

Bobby was amazing with his ice, control wasn't a problem. Yet it could dehydrate him quicker than a summer day in Mississippi. It rendered his ice more brittle and less powerful. He was hesitant, still developing his powers. He spent many an hour trying to centralize the flow of his own body's H2O supply. He could do so much more if he could start the freezing process before it came out of him, the Professor had said.

Ah, the Professor... She wrenched her hands apart and had to clench her eyes shut. Just the ability to use her mutation without hurting herself, even in minor ways, had made her life more bearable. She might not have been capable of physical human touch, but she could be an X-man. She could use the powers of others to protect herself and her teammates.

She'd jacked a bit of Colossus's steel skin during simulation. It had been so easy. He'd been left a bit dizzy, but he'd recovered fast enough. She could have pulled on that strength for a good few minutes if she'd wanted.

She wasn't helpless. Her skin wasn't only a curse anymore. She could suffer through things if she could keep developing this twisted fun she was having trying out so many mutations. Even the Professor had thought she could do more. He'd been so encouraging, so patient.

“You're stronger than you even know, Rogue. Be patient with yourself and keep going. I have no doubt you'll surprise us both.”

He was gone now. His need to help mutants like her, mutants who struggled with control had finally killed him. Fuckin' truth to rights, she growled to herself.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Logan's personality had a tendency to rise when she was agitated. The thought of her mutation always brought up a bittersweet lump in her throat. Her mutation, all things considered, was pretty cool. And she could have lived with it, until the Professor died and all hope of progress with him. Until the cure.

So she'd climbed into the taxi and asked him to take her into the city, to the nearest Worthington Lab. She'd wanted her mutation, even liked it. But she wanted touch more.

So here she sat, biting at her lower lip in concern, wondering if she'd ever get this over with. She'd finally gotten to the front of the line in New York where they'd grilled her for her name and information.

She'd answered all their questions sweetly and innocently, without complaint and with a full-on southern girl Mississippi accent. She'd lied through her Goddamned teeth.

They'd given her a pin-prick blood test, as a precursor to the injection. She'd watched as the nurse's brows came down and looked at the color results more closely. She'd asked Rogue to hold on one second and then scurried away.

She came back a minute or so later with a doctor, who now held the results. Rogue raised her brows in curiosity, eyes peeking at the bluish color on the stick. The ridiculous looking thing looked like a pregnancy test. The irony prompted Rogue to snort a laugh and then quickly cover her mouth when the nurse looked at her in confusion.

The doctor picked up the clipboard sitting on the table next to the make-shift bed and scribbled some notes before proceeding.

“Miss...Clarence, is it? Yes. You may have noticed that we give these quick blood tests to all persons wishing to seek treatment.”

Rogue nodded.

“Well, they do, in fact, serve a purpose. You see, different levels of mutation occur in each individual. We distinguish them in classes, one through five. Ninety-five percent of the mutant population is Class Three or under and requires a certain dosage. Unfortunately, you are not within this category.”

The world had shifted around her and it had took a moment for her to breathe again. “I'm sorry. I don't quite understand. I'm not a Class Three or under?”

The doctor shook his head. “No. You're not. You qualify as a Class Four. A very strong Class Four." Rogue once again found it difficult to breathe. Class Four?

“Class Four?” The words caught in her throat and cracked a bit on delivery.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “That's not possible. Class Four mutants are...” Her hands waved around clumsily. “I'm not that powerful.”

“According to the blood tests you are,” he pressed. “We wouldn't bring it up except it requires a much more concentrated dose. It's unstable in long distance travel so they're only distributing it at headquarters in San Francisco. You'll have to be transferred there.”

She felt herself exhale loudly. “How do I...?”

The nurse spoke up as the doctor walked away.

“Oh, don't you worry honey. They're providing air transport for any of these cases. It will all be over soon.”

She patted Rogue’s folded gloved hands and walked off. Rogue was left with a chill of fear. She'd been under the impression she was a Class Two, no higher. The professor had mentioned she hadn't yet reached her potential, but...a Class Four?

She swallowed around her dry tongue. She only knew of a handful of Class Fours. Magneto qualified, and the Professor...and John and Bobby were both on the low end of Class Four apparently. Logan and Scott had only been Class Threes.

Jean...was the only Five she'd ever heard of, and that information had just recently surfaced. But she, little Rogue from south Mississippi, terrified of her own skin, a strong Class Four? She felt a certain amount of pride well-up. No wonder she'd had a sick fascination with 'borrowing' the powers of others. It was probably giving her a high no amount of recreational drug-use could have pulled-off.

Her brows shot up the slightest amount as she breathed out one of Logan's infamous crowd-stoppers. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ...”

They flew her to San Francisco's old Alcatraz Island faster than she would have thought. It made her nervous to think they would spend the money for a private plane. Admittedly, she wasn't the only one headed in that direction, but really, it was a lot of money for a publicly-funded cure.

When they finally answered her questions, it only irritated her more. They wanted to use her case for the FDA -- to strengthen their brand name and try to pass European Union standards. She even signed a consent form for her medical visit to be used in research. She wasn't planning to mention her real name wasn't Debra.

Before she knew it, she found herself deep in the inner walls of Worthington Lab’s headquarters. They stuck her with an IV and ran a general physical exam. She growled more than she would have liked. The Logan in her was extremely uncomfortable with so much poking and prodding.

The idea she was being used for experimentation actually made her indignant. She was pretty sure Erik's haughtiness had creeped out then.

The dark-haired doctor, with her own accent, gave gentle words of encouragement. “With this level of serum, you're probably going to feel unwell at first. Give it time.”

Rogue watched, starting to breathe more heavily, as the nurse tied the knot in the rubber around her upper arm. “How long before it works?”

The gentle-looking doctor smiled softly up at her as she prepared the injection. “It should work within moments.” With that she brought the syringe down to Rogue's arm. “Are you ready?”

She couldn't make herself breathe, let alone speak, so she settled for a simple curt nod. The sting of the needle as it pierced her pale skin helped focus her energy. Her nerves were on edge. She closed her eyes and waited.

It felt cold and thick. It seeped into her arm and she felt her skin start to go numb. It crawled down to her fingertips and up past her shoulder, down her spine. Cold numbness. Until it started to burn.

She hissed through her teeth just as the doctor pulled out the empty needle. Every ounce that had been numbed started to turn to liquid fire. Her skin burned. She struggled to her feet and tried to rub at her arms, tried to smother out the flames that were licking at her skin. She ripped off her other glove and scarf trying to get rid of the fire. Two nurses tried to talk her down as she felt herself turn to ash.

Then, finally, the burn started to fade. It left her arm and her fingers, finally smoking out down her back and neck. She fell back on to the medical table shaking.

“I'm sorry...” she mumbled shakily.

The dark-haired doctor smiled. “It's quite all right. Like I said. It can be jarring.”

Rogue nodded and looked at her hands. She didn't look different but she wasn't expecting to. How would she know if it worked? Before she could finish her train of thought, a delicate hand fell on her forearm, gently stroking with its thumb.

Rogue blinked at the contact, unable to register the touch. The hand was cool and carried no roughness. Her skin crackled with the sensation. She could feel it reaching out, wanting to take in the life-force of the person brave enough to challenge it. But nothing happened.

Rogue moved her eyes up to the doctor, who in turn, smiled gently at her.

“Congratulations, my dear.”

Joy started to creep up Rogue's back, threatening to spill over in an embarrassing display of tears. She opened her mouth to thank her when the look in the doctor’s eyes changed. They grew gray and pained, as veins began to stick out along her face.

Before Rogue could pull away, thoughts came crashing in. I don't understand! Why does it hurt so? Please make her stop!

Rogue yanked back so hard she flopped over the back end of the table and crashed to the floor. The doctor fell to the floor in a dead faint.

***

Rogue pulled at the ends of her opera length gloves, tucking them further up under her sleeves as Mr. Worthington closed the door to his office. She didn't hold out much hope. Her skin, the only mutation to resist the cure.

She scrunched her nose in distaste. “Figures,” she mumbled.

In a world full of mutations, hers was the only one that hadn't responded the same as all the rest. “A rogue mutation,” the doctor had whispered to Mr. Worthington. Her only reaction was to raise a single eyebrow. They'd whispered about her for a good ten minutes, never thinking she could hear them.

Mutations she'd pulled from others faded quickly, within five or so minutes. But if she held on longer, she'd keep them longer. She'd been able to toy with metal for a good week after Erik had forced himself inside her head.

Logan, however, had held on so long and giving her so much that she still had residuals of his mutation, even after this long. She could hear much better than most, and her sense of smell had grown disturbingly. She couldn't handle foofy flowery smells any more, not that she even liked them to begin with. And while she couldn't pull off one of Logan's fantastic instant regeneration tricks, it took half the number of days for scrapes and cuts to disappear neatly from her skin. Scars begone!

She stood in the office trying to figure out a plan. Mr. Worthington hadn't known she was listening and had spilled the beans.

“Keep her here! Yes, yes. I know protocol, but it doesn't matter. If word gets out that the cure doesn't work on everyone, we'll have a PR nightmare from hell! Just...find a way to keep her here. If she won't stay willingly, use the soldiers.”

His hushed whispers had come out nervously agitated and upset. Rogue paled considerably.

Erik and Logan would have attacked then and there. They would have sent metal flying into Worthington’s stomach so fast, he wouldn't even have had time to blink. By flying metal furniture or slashing metal claws, it would have happened.

Rogue's instincts told her to fight -- fight hard and fight fast. But she'd been trained. She'd sat in class after class with Scott and Rogue, the Professor, even Logan. Each teaching their own strengths, their own knowledge. And even though the personalities in her head wanted her to lash out, Rogue did what Rogue would do.

She sat and pretended, biding her time. She nodded at the invitation to stay and do some tests, but asked if she could please call home and let them know she'd be taking a bit longer. She would stay as long as she needed too to get rid of the disease.

Mr. Worthington nodded, letting out a breath of relief. “Please, come use my office to notify your family.”

He closed the door behind her and walked away, going off to give instructions for a room to be set-up for her to stay in. She gave it ten seconds before she launched herself at the phone.

She picked up the receiver and punched in the mansion’s emergency number, cursing when the satin gloves got in the way and she was forced to redial. Her breath came in short pants, and her hands shook. She'd managed to stay calm in front of the camera, but she was slowly starting to fall apart.

She waited as the second ring ended and she heard the tell-tale signs of call-forwarding, the clicking and redirection in progress. She scrunched her nose. Why is it being forwarded? They only forward it when...

The line picked up and she could hear some sort of engine running in the background before 'Ro's familiar voice came through. “Yes?” Her voice was hard and professional, all business.

Rogue didn't wait to figure out what was going on. “Storm. It's Rogue. I'm in trouble.”


She could hear the pause of confusion and then a quick breath in as the words struck her.

“Rogue? What's wrong?” She was about to fill her in when she heard shuffling and voices in the background. She thought she heard someone swear before Storm argued, “Logan. I've got this. Let me...Logan!”

She heard the moving of the phone and a rough growl.

“Rogue!” His voice came out hard and tense. She smiled and breathed out in relief. Something about his voice always made her feel reassured, made her calmer.

“Logan. I might need a little help here.” She looked back towards the door trying to listen for any footsteps.

“What happened? You alright?”

She rushed with her words. “They don't want to let me leave. They were talking when they thought I wasn't listening and they want me to stay. They want to run some tests and...”shnike She heard the sound of his claws spring out and her eyebrows shot up.

“They fuckin' want to what?” It was a growl and it was so low and dangerous she decided to just spill it.

“Yeah. I kinda got myself into a pickle here. I'm not even in New York anymore.”

“Where the hell are you?” It came out roughly and she swallowed past the next words.

“San Francisco's headquarters. On Alcatraz Island.” She cringed and waited for the string of curse words she was sure would follow.

It didn't come. He was silent for a moment before he finally decided what to say. “We're already there, 20 minutes, tops.”

Her mouth fell open. “Huh?”

“You sure as shit have some timing, Rogue. Magneto's on his way there, too. He'll be there before us.” Her vision dulled and she had trouble breathing. “Listen, you keep under cover ‘til we get there. There's going to be a fight either way. I don't want you pulling any shit 'til we get there. Understand?” She nodded dumbly. “Rogue?”

She shook her head and finally focused. “Yeah. Understood.” Then, “Logan, I still have my mutation.” She heard him let out a breath. “I can help.”

He growled. “You're by yourself. I don't want you doing anything ‘til we get there. Stay low and...” He was cut off by an explosion coming from her side. She grabbed onto the desk and postured herself in a defensive stance. The walls shook and pieces of drywall cracked and fell to the floor around her.

“What the fuck was that?” he yelled into the phone.

She still held the phone, though slightly away from her ear. Still, his profanity came through loud and clear. She brought it back up to her face. “Um, I think he's here.”

“Shit.” He spoke to Storm for a moment before he came back on the line. “You stay low, you hear? We're coming.”

“Ok.” She looked up at the shaking ceiling. And then she heard gunshots. “Hurry up.”

“Ten minutes, max. Just...” The line went dead and rogue stared at the phone.
***
She stepped into the hallway and looked in either direction. After five minutes of gunfire and blasts, she couldn't stay in the room any longer. People were obviously in danger and she felt cowardly hiding out in this office. She reasoned if she could make it outside by the time the team made it there, she'd be able to help.

It was shockingly easy to walk the halls. Exit signs were posted as clearly as in any facility. There was no one in the hall to even bother her. She made it to the entrance of the building as the sounds outside became more and more violent. She heard the sound of jet engines and smiled.

She peeked around the corner to the main doorway, past the crowd of medical officers and soldiers. Outside, a line of soldiers, and on the far side, at least a hundred civilian dressed people...mutants. Her skin tingled and her breathing became more rapid. The gloves and scarf became bothersome. Her fingers itched to touch and take.

She'd been downright pissed when she'd realized the cure was completely useless against her. She wanted touch so badly. Now, it was time to cut her losses and move on.

They'd wanted to run tests, see if they could 'cure' her. And she was sure that anything they tried would only ever be temporary. Her skin crawled with the desire to touch and absorb. The idea that the cure could be strong enough was ridiculous. Her powers would just overwhelm it and take it in, use it up and move on. Why had she been so stupid as to think it would be any other way?

And now, standing here, seeing the smorgasbord of mutations in front of her, her mouth went dry. She wanted those mutations like she wanted water. She gave a small smile and let her tongue wet her lower lip. She wanted those powers.

She ripped at the gloves and threw them to the floor. Her scarf was tugged off and discarded. She pulled off her cloak and let it fall. She wore a sweater over a tank top and jeans. She'd need as much skin exposure as possible at first.

She had nothing to really work with. She'd have to grab and brush against a few of them before she'd be able to really become effective or she'd never get through that line of soldiers let alone fight any one mutant. Logan had been teaching her hand- to-hand combat, but she was still limited. She huffed out a sigh and then ripped the sweater off, leaving pale skin to glow against the black tank. It would just get in her way, anyhow. She wished that she had a band of some kind to get the hair off her face but she'd have to live with that.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and looked back around the corner. She saw, one by one, the X-men form a line. The soldiers backed off in confusion. She found her opening and sprinted past the crowd, squeezing under and between as many as she could avoiding skin contact with the humans.

There were some shouts of surprise. Someone must have recognized her because she heard the slur 'mutey' as she passed out the front door into the chilly air.

Logan must have heard it too because he turned his body so he could see behind him.  His face was a hard mask of energy, a growl grinding its way through his bared teeth. His eyes focused on her as she sprinted past the soldiers who moved out of her way. She breathed heavily as she stopped in front of Logan.

“Miss me?” she asked through gasping breaths.

He looked at her attire and raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “Gonna be difficult to grab up some powers with only bare hands.”

He glanced back up at Magneto and asked, “You got enough control for it not to hurt you?”

She scoffed. “I'll be fine. A few grazes and I'll have what I need.”

He nodded and looked around him.

“Shit.” he growled. He reached out and grabbed her behind the head and pulled her in. His gloved hands protected him from her skin and she could feel the sing of metal next to her ear.

He kissed her forehead, leaving contact for a few seconds. She felt his senses rush in first. The smell of burning metal and ash. Men's sweat and blood. Her hearing spiked and she could hear even the sound of feet scuffing the ground. Then the healing came crashing in and her skin wrapped around it, keeping a hold of the way it pulsed through her veins.

He pulled away, heaving. She felt her own breath rushing out quicker. She smiled at him. “Thanks.” He'd given her the first hit. Given her something to work off of.

He nodded and faced back towards the crowd.

“Just don't get killed.”

She snorted and faced the crowd of mutants. Her skin crackled with electricity and want. So many mutations, so little time.

The first one she grabbed was a tattooed character. She felt her skin prickle as it took a deep pull. She felt him stiffen in shock as she took from him, his eyes going vacant. When she snatched her hand away from his arm, he fell to his knees.

She felt feral drive climb up her spine and she couldn't help the snarl she bit out. The world turned to black and grays. Colors disappeared. She was disoriented for a moment, worried she'd suddenly lost a chunk of sight that would render her weaker, not stronger.

Then the grays sharpened and instead of it hindering her sight, it grew ten times sharper. She could make out all the dirt clumps in the ground without effort.

“Cool,” she whispered.

She used it to duck under punches and kicks. She spun around more gracefully than she would have thought herself able.

She kicked at a short frog-looking man. He grabbed her boot and used it to lever her off the ground and fifteen feet in the air. Normally, she would have hit the ground hard. She might have attempted to hit flat and roll like Logan had taught her. Instead she found gravity and pivoted around to land on her feet, bending her knees to absorb the impact and using one hand to steady herself. She stood gracefully.

“So fuckin' cool!” It came out a bit too loud.

“Rogue!” Logan barked from where he was gutting a man. “What the hell are you doing?”

He turned and punched his claws through some iron looking giant, growling as he pulled down hard, snarling the whole way. He turned back.

“Are you smilin'?”

She gave out a little laugh and shrugged. “Girl's gotta have a little fun.”

She turned when she heard spikes fly through the air and watched as they whizzed by, embedding into a wall. She turned to face her attacker and saw two more spikes crawl out of his arms.

She gave a wicked smile and her fingertips itched madly. She advanced on him, planning to grab ahold of his arm while he was busy growing two new spikes. Bobby got there first, freezing them into place and placing a few icicles into his chest.

The man dropped. She glowered at Bobby before she realized what she was doing. He nodded at her and moved on to the next attacker.

She moved on with a petulant frown, grabbing on to two more mutants before she met up with Storm. One had the ability to send electrical currents with contact and the other had a startling ability to turn into glass. The latter ability seemed a bit useless in battle, so she refrained from using it lest she get shattered at a simple punch.

By the time Magneto and Pyro had them running for cover with their fire car bombs, she'd grabbed onto a shape shifter -- though not as talented as Mystique -- a woman who could heat objects, and a man who blew air with a strength that was uncanny.

She breathed hard as she crawled behind the car pilings with Logan, Storm, Beast, and Iceman. She gripped her arm where blood pooled and ran down. The bloody teleporter had slashed at her with a busted pipe before she could back off. It was healing quickly, but Logan's jump-start touch was starting to wear off. Storm worriedly pressed her hand to the wound.

“Ah'm fine.” She noticed her accent and cringed.

Looking up at Logan, she knew he'd noticed too. He growled.

“You're pushin' it, darlin'. I told you not to.”

She felt the flush tinge her cheeks. He'd spent enough hours pulverizing her in the danger room in one-on-one combat to know her accent came back when she was in pain.

“How many?”

She avoided his intent gaze, but Logan’s patience had run out. “How many, Rogue?”

She gritted her teeth. “Five. And you.”

He glared at her. “No fuckin' more.”

She snapped back. “I've got this under control, Wolverine! I don't need a babysitter.”

“Rogue...” Hank interrupted. “Keep in mind you've only done this in practice. Your mind...”

“Is fine!” She barked. She heard a rush of whispers at the edge of her consciousness. Liar.

“I said it's enough.”

Logan grabbed at her arm, the one that was still healing. He pulled her around towards him, his face inches away from hers.

“You fuckin' touch one more and I'll knock your ass out, you hear me?”

She didn't have much choice but to nod.

XXX

She climbed behind rock after rock, using the last of her first pull to gracefully and silently move along the back fringes of the gate. She finally pulled up on the back end and crawled to the edge of the bridge.

She stood quietly and had to shake her head as her vision turned back to normal. Magneto stood facing the disaster -- no one left but him and Phoenix, who stood by motionless, watching with impartial calmness.

Rogue reached to her back pocket and snatched out the cartridge she'd grabbed from the floor at Logan's direction. She jerked out the four syringes and broke the stopper off of each before clicking them back in the cartridge. She held it carefully in her right hand and positioned herself to look again.

It was too fast. Logan had already launched himself somehow toward Magneto. He skidded to a stop just in front of him as Magneto sneered. She took the opportunity and leaped out from behind the rock.

She heard Logan say something through gritted teeth but couldn’t make it out, her hearing fading away to her normal high range. She kept going, vaulting over the last rock and up to Magneto's back.

She swung her arm around and landed the four needles into his chest, feeling them pierce his clothes and then skin. She hardly noticed the screaming snarl she'd let out as she'd reached him. Her hair had swung around and blocked some of her view, but she could see him look at her in stunned realization.

Justice! Her thoughts screamed. For raping my mind!

A sick satisfaction pooled in her chest. It surprised her how much bitterness she held against him for forcing so much of himself into her over a year ago. She lowered her hand with some hesitancy, feeling the syringes scrape free of the cartridge as she tried to finally let go of that anger.

Magneto slowly melted to his knees, turning to face Logan again. “I'm...”

He couldn't even finish, so Logan did it for him.

“One of them?”

He fell to the ground, his hands shaking and breath quivering. Rogue took two steps down to stand next to Logan and they both watched as the serum worked itself through him.

Logan reached for her bare hand. She looked down as he gently released the cartridge from her fingertips, letting it fall to the ground. She looked up at him and let out a breath.

Could it be so easy? she thought. It certainly hadn't been for her.

Logan looked up and she followed his eye line. Phoenix stood, motionless. Watching.

“It's over, Jean,” he called. He breathed heavily and repeated it as if to convince himself. “It's over.”

Rogue looked up at her and wondered if Jean could really still be in there, but she didn't have time to find out. Behind her, more soldiers with 'cure' guns came over the edge and positioned themselves.

Rogue felt herself take a step back in alarm as she realized what they would do. Although the soldiers were aiming at Phoenix, the darts would also come raining down on them.

“NO! Don't shoot!” Logan roared.

He turned and grabbed her, pulling her to the floor as he turned his back to the hundreds of shots fired in their direction. She felt him hover over her with his body and she clenched her eyes shut. One 'cure' hadn't been enough for her mutation. She had a sick curiosity about how effective forty would be.

She peeked out from under her eyelashes when nothing happened. She looked up to see Logan open his eyes as well. An instant of looking at each other in confusion and they both faced where the shots should have come from.

Phoenix had stopped them all in mid-air, her eyes growing dark and eerie. Logan grabbed Rogue’s arm and hauled her to her feet. They watched as Phoenix rose from the ground, turned and began to tear the world apart around her.

“Noooo!” Logan yelled. Rogue gripped his arm in alarm as soldiers disintegrated into thin air.

“Everybody get out of here!” Hank yelled from across the way.

Everyone, humans and mutants alike, started running back towards the bridge as Phoenix grew more angry.

Logan looked down at Rogue and she couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“I'm the only one that can stop her.”

“No!” She gripped his arm. “No, Logan. You can't!” She was desperate. He could no more kill Jean Gray than Rogue could kill him.

“You can't, Logan.” She was grasping at straws. “I'll do it. I'll touch her. I can...I can take her power away...”

“And then what?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle among the roaring wind. “She'll recover if you let go too soon and we're right back here. And if you hold on...” He reached out and stroked her head. “You'll die too.”

She opened her mouth to argue that she was strong enough. But the truth was she wasn't. Phoenix would overtake her one way or another. Even if she managed to hold on long enough, Phoenix would take hold of her mind and Marie D’Ancanto would no longer be.

“I can do it,” she tried desperately.

He smiled at her and pushed back the hair that flew wildly into her face. “Get everyone to safety.”

She grabbed his forearm. “Logan...please.”

“Go.”

He turned her and pushed her forward. She felt tears come down her face as she obeyed.

It took three days for Bobby to talk to her in private. She sat at her desk, working on her first online class for college, one leg pulled up so her chin rested on her knee.

When she'd left home at sixteen, she'd spent almost seven months on the road, out of school. By the time she'd finally found her way to the mansion, by way of Logan, she'd had some severe catching up to do.

Luckily, she'd been able to fling around some of her advanced placement knowledge and graduate by December, only half a year behind and still eighteen. Now, in April, she'd really gotten into starting college. And wouldn't Mama 'n Daddy be so proud, she thought sardonically. One hand scrolled down on the reading assignment.

Bobby walked in her open doorway and leaned back against the wall, watching her. She smiled at him and held up a finger while she found a place to stop. Finally, she placed her foot down and stood, taking a deep breath.

He looked down at the floor and scratched his head.

“It's been difficult,” he confessed. “...finding the words to say to you.”

She nodded. He looks so damn young, she thought. Like nothing's happened at all. She'd left in the middle of the night, without telling him of her plans. She'd left him stranded thinking that the girl he'd been involved with was going to make a life-altering decision without telling him. She should have said something.

“I'm proud of you.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“I am,” he repeated. “I'm proud of you for not taking the 'cure'. I never wanted it for you. I never wanted you to change.”

She swallowed past the sarcastic comment. “Proud of me.”

He nodded. “We all are. Storm, Kitty, Pete, and I'm sure Logan is too.”

Oh, well isn't that just so sweet. She felt her chin jut out in irritation. “It wasn't their choice. Or yours, Bobby.”

“I know that,” he said by way of explanation. “It's just. You know. It's hard to let someone go and make the wrong decision. But you didn't. And we're proud of you for it.”

She felt her teeth bite into her bottom lip. Anger bubbled up her throat. “And y’all just decided to have a discussion about me and my decisions.” He opened his mouth to reply. “Last Ah checked, sugah, gossipin’ was still considered rude.”

“Well,” he stuttered. “It just sorta came up and...”

She stormed out of her room, leaving him to excuse himself. She could just...ugh! She stomped around in righteous indignation. She'd had to leave home at sixteen, that hadn't been her choice. Her months on the road, fending off disgusting perverts and scrounging for food like a homeless mutt hadn't been her choice. Her mutation wasn't her choice. She'd be damned if people were going to prance around thinking they had a reason to judge her.

She ended up in the t.v. room. The screen was on but no one was around. She plopped down on the couch and crossed her arms, sinking down as far as she could, trying to cool down. She watched as Hank made his speech as the newly appointed United Nations Ambassador for Mutants. She gave a crooked smile. Way to go, fur ball.

She noticed movement coming from the french doors leading to the patio just as Logan walked through them. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over a chair.

“You just get back?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He sat himself on the couch next to her, placing his feet up on the coffee table. She slapped at his legs to indicate that they belonged on the floor. He reciprocated by shoving her in the shoulder with an amused grunt. She smiled.

“You've been holed up in your room last couple days,” he mused.

“Yeah.” She bit back her own comment -- that he had been holed up in bars for so long he probably owed them rent. The stench of loose women was so powerful she could practically taste it. Ick! Leave it to Logan to drown his sorrows in the nearest whore house. He glanced at her from the side as if he could read her thoughts. She grudgingly refrained from commentary.

“Think Popsicle was looking for ya.”

Aaand we're back to this. Her brows drew down into a frown. “He found me.”

“You two get into it?” It was a loaded question.

“He's proud of me,” she sneered. “For not taking the cure. Apparently,” she went on sarcastically, “You're all proud of me.”

His face tilted to the side. “Why's it matter?”

She pulled her leg up and rested her chin on it again. “Just 'cause.”

“It's your decision,” he repeated.

“Apparently, it's been put to a vote.” She stomped her foot down and leaned forward, wringing her hands together. “Why does it matter to everyone else what I do?”

He shrugged. “People care about you. So, they care what you do with your mutation. It's a big part of you.”

“If I had taken the cure, would they have lost all respect for me?” She glanced at him through the hair that had fallen to cover her face.

“Dunno,” he replied unhelpfully. “You didn't, so it's irrelevant at this point.” He looked curiously at her. “Question is, how come you put so much emphasis on the ‘what if’ that wasn't?”

“I did,” she blurted out.

He frowned in confusion. “Did what?”

She pulled at the ends of her gloves nervously. “Take it. The 'cure'. I took it.”

He lifted himself to the edge of the couch and turned to her. “What the hell do you mean, you took it?”

She let out a breath of air. “I mean, I took the damn 'cure', Logan. Just like I said.”

She watched as his mouth opened and closed looking for something to say. She found it amusing. He wasn't usually at a loss for words.

“But, your mutation...”.

“Isn't gone,” she finished for him. “Yeah, I'm aware of that.”

He clenched his jaw. He was getting frustrated with her. She sighed. He'd be getting angry soon if she didn't elaborate.

“They couldn't give me the cure in New York City, so they had to fly me out to San Francisco.”

“On a plane?”

She rolled her eyes. “No Logan, I flew in on the back of a flying donkey. Yes, on a plane!”

He just about stuck his finger through her forehead. “Don't get smart with me, kid.” He was really fuming now. “Why?”

She grumbled. “Well, the local clinic didn’t carry the right dosage for my...level...of mutation.”

His head drew back in confusion. “Level?”

She licked her lips and chewed on her bottom lip. “Class. My class of mutation.”

“Class,” he repeated, finally hearing a word he understood. “What classes did they carry?”

“One through Three.”

She watched as his eyes scrunched, realization sinking in. He looked jarred. “So they sent you to San Francisco to get the higher dose?” She nodded.

“It work on others who needed that level?” She nodded again.

“But not on you,” he finished. “Why not?”

He was watching her with his feral eyes. She felt like prey.

“It wasn't strong enough.” She grimaced. “Well, it worked for about 30 seconds.”

“And then,” he pushed.

“And then the doctor fell into a coma.”

A quick pause. “The higher dosage. It's for what classes?” She was gonna have to tell him the scary part.

“Just Four.”

His mouth fell open and she held her breath.

“A Class Four 'cure' wasn't enough?” he said incredulously. He started to look agitated, worried. “You're not a...” He had trouble getting the words out.

“No!” she replied. She could see where this was going. “I'm a Class Four. Just, I guess a really strong Class Four. But that's it.”

“You sure?” He looked pretty upset.

“Well. I mean, that's what the doctors said before they started talking about keeping me for experimentation.”

He suddenly stood and raked his hands through his hair. He turned sharply at a thought and looked a bit angry. “You didn't give them your real name, did you?”

“Yeah,” she snapped. “And my address.” She wasn't that stupid. “No!” She felt a bit offended at the idea. “Logan, it's over. They don't even know who I am. And after the fiasco that followed, I doubt they're even going to think twice about me.”

“Marie.” She blinked at the use of her real name. That was new. He squatted in front of her, taking her gloved hand. “Listen to me. They're gonna look for you. They'll need to get their act together first, but eventually, they'll come looking for the Class Four mutant too strong for the cure to work on.”

He was starting to scare her. “Did they get any information from you at all? Anything? Age? Relatives' names?

“No, Logan. I didn't give them anyth...” She stopped mid sentence. His hand tightened around hers.

“My blood,” she whispered. “They did a blood test to start. That's how they figured out I was a Class Four.”

He pulled away and stood, hands once again raking through his hair. “Shit!”

She looked around chaotically, trying not to freak out. “They have my blood. They have...they'll get my name...” She felt hysteria set in. What if they found out where she was from? “Logan...” even her shoulders trembled.

He turned and grabbed her, holding her upper arms. “Hey, hey. It's alright.” He rubbed her shoulders up and down. “I'm not gonna let them get near you, OK?”

He pulled her into his chest. “You hear me?” She nodded. “Good.” He pulled her back, running a hand down the back of her head. “Come on. We gotta go find Storm.”

XXXXXXX

She sat by as Logan filled Storm in. Her eyes widening in surprise before looking at her with shockingly humbled eyes. They'd discussed options and precautions, eventually sending for Hank at the earliest possibility.

Storm had ransacked Charles' office. With Rogue present, she went through some of the files. Storm read off notations, attempting to leave out irrelevant personal conversations. Rogue spent that time ripping files away from her, claiming their irrelevance to the matter. But he'd known.

The Professor had known she was a Class Four and hadn't told her, told anyone. She wanted to stomp out to his headstone and give it a good kick. Who did he think he was, keeping secrets like that? She'd made it out to the squared-off section where Jean and Scott were immortalized next to him, and had copped out. Instead, she'd picked up a rock and thrown it into the treeline. It did little to relieve the anger.

She submitted to labwork when Hank arrived. Bobby had tried to be supportive, but it was stressful having him around. She'd asked Logan and Storm to not tell anyone else that she had, in fact, taken the dosage. It hadn't worked anyway and it would just fuel gossip and reproachful looks.

Logan wasn't pleased at her making the request but he'd bitterly complied. The rest of the mansion walked around thinking that she'd changed her mind. They didn't even know she was a Class Four mutant.

Bobby was the only other Class Four in the building. His powers had manifested stronger and stronger. He'd made a major breakthrough at Alcatraz against John. She'd been pretty floored to see him turned into an iceman. He'd worked on it ever since in simulation. It was incredible to watch. His touch froze anything it came in contact with. Hank had measured his body temperature at 30 below. Celsius. Her fingers itched every time he iced up in simulation.

Even so, he still topped out at the lowest levels of a Class Four. He still had limitations. Dehydration was a real danger to him. Remaining in iceman form sucked all the water from him. Hank had ordered him to maintain a strict minimal count of 20 ten-ounce servings of water a day. He'd taken to carrying around a gallon tub.

She couldn't understand. She couldn't wrap her head around the idea that her mutation, her curse was stronger. Still, she didn't want him or anyone else to know.

The strain in their relationship stretched until it couldn't hold any more. They didn't have a big blow up, but it strained their friendship. By June, they only spoke to each other during training. They were cordial, even kind, but never socialized outside of training.

All the bloodwork and work-ups Hank completed between UN obligations came up with only one simple truth. She was a Class Four mutant. In Hank’s words, she 'teetered' on the edge of a Class Five.

Logan had not been pleased. She found it odd. He did not like her working to grow her power. Still, though, he insisted on being with her during most of her sessions. Without the professor to help focus her, she'd been a bit lost as to how to proceed.

She tried to start where they had left off. Meditation and strengthening exercises. She tried to isolate pulls. Logan volunteered most the time. She tried pulling only his sense of hearing, or just his smell, or just his ability to heal. He was unamused when she cut her fingertips to see if it had worked.

She also tried pulling harder or softer, tried to yank at the mutation with a simple brush of her fingers. Progress was painfully slow, but there was progress. She skirted around the idea of trying to pull thoughts instead of mutations. She tried it once with Hank and ended up putting him down for two days and herself using phrases that contained the words 'stars' and 'garters'. Logan put an end to that real quick.

Logan concentrated on teaching the younger X-men how to fight. She suspected he did it to help him forget. Well, that and because he must have exhausted all of his options at those skanky bars he frequented.

By June, he'd stopped going out all night. No disreputable woman left to screw, I guess. She'd brought it up once in annoyance during training when he'd been particularly hard on her, and she'd been put in her place with a simple swoop of his leg.

She'd landed so hard on her back that her teeth shook. He'd leaned over her and growled out the words.

“You're you. So I'm not gonna break your arm for the comment. But watch your mouth, Marie. Or next time I'll kick that pretty ass of yours 'till it hurts to shit.”
She had sighed and moved on. He'd never been a vague individual.

Their other main concern was Magneto. With the knowledge that the cure hadn't worked for more than a minute on her, they speculated as to whether or not Magneto had regained his power.

Mystique hadn't yet, and she was also a Class Four -- which placed her under Rogue's status. But Magneto? They weren't sure how powerful he was. So they kept their contacts open looking for any signs of him. All they could do was wait.

She grabbed his left arm as he swung, using the momentum to give her leverage. She snapped it down and around, ducking under it. She could break his arm if she could manage the right position. Before she could crack the bone on her knee, he used her thigh as a way to push himself off and flip back over, releasing his arm from her grip.

Rogue ducked away from his foot before he cracked her in the side of the head and reached for his shoulders. He blocked her and twisted, wrapping his arm around her neck, flipping her around and forcing her to her knees, squeezing off her air supply. She jammed her fingers under his arm to break the air block, shoving her chin down so he'd lose the grip. When she managed to get the angle, she bit as hard as she could. He cursed and let go.

She rolled forward and struggled up to her feet, putting some distance between them while she coughed and choked in air. She'd have a welt around her neck after this. He swung again and, this time, she managed to grip his shoulders after a block. She'd been trained to follow with a knee to the nose at this point. She shoved his shoulders down and shoved up hard and low with her leg, nailing him in the lower abdomen instead. He let out a grunt of air and fell to his knees, spitting up blood.

“That fuckin' HURT, Logan!” She turned and rubbed at her neck, wincing at the rawness.

He straightened out slowly, one hand still holding his stomach. “That wasn't a lethal blow, Marie.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “I didn't feel like breaking my femur tryin' to break your adamantium laced nose,” she spat. And there was her stupid accent again!

He grunted. The only acknowledgment she was going to get. She sighed and walked over to the side of the room where floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the wall. She lifted her chin and groaned at the red welt rising up on her skin.

He walked up next to her, pulling at his gloved hand. “Here.”

She glared at him. “I don't want it.” It was an all-out lie. She lived for hits of power.

He growled back. “You're on the team because I train you this hard. I train you this hard because I know I can heal the damage. Your damned choice, Marie.”

She glowered and reached for her own glove, yanking on the fingers. “You're such a tight-ass.”

She reached for his hand. He grabbed her arm and flipped her head over heels so that she ate the mat with her whole face. She blinked in shock and felt the beginnings of blood dripping from her nose.

He leaned down over her and growled. “Next time make the hit.”

He grabbed her hand and wrenched her around to a sitting position. By the time he let go, she'd gotten enough of a draw to fix her nose and neck. She could hardly smell the sweat in the room. She was getting good at this individual pull. He shook off the dizziness and cracked his neck. Turning he walked to leave the room.

“And watch your fuckin' mouth, Marie.”

Her jaw dropped. “You're one to talk,” she hollered. The door slammed behind him and she'd swear she could hear him chuckle.

XXX

She punched away at her Lit assignment with annoyance. She flipped a few pages in her book and then slammed it shut. She kicked the foot she had tucked up on the chair out and kicked her trashcan. It bounced off the nightstand and almost tipped over her clock. She glowered at the red numbers. 10 p.m. She'd decided to take a full load this summer in an attempt to catch up to others her own age. She'd managed to do it, but she was getting sick and tired of so much homework on top of full time training with the team.

Her body was sore despite Logan's small hits and she only had so much room in her head for Storm’s rigorous strategy classes. Hank piled on first-aid and field trauma sessions and Logan added a mess of auto mechanics on top of everything else. They'd expanded the team to include Warren Worthington III. His beautiful wings always made her fingers itch.

Then there was Jubilation. She'd gone off to college last year and had not enjoyed herself, citing irreconcilable differences between herself and the dorm RAs. So she was back and training with the rest of them while taking online classes like her. Storm had mentioned they might have a new addition soon. Some guy from the south, like her. Gumbo or something, Logan had said.

She let her head fall back, closed her eyes and brought her leg back up. It had been an overall cruddy day. She wanted it to be over.

The knock on her door startled her. She looked up to see Logan standing casually, arms crossed over his chest. “Sleepin’ sittin' up?”

She dropped her foot. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

He'd caught not only her, but all of them, Bobby, Kitty, Jubes..., falling asleep over their plates at dinner or homework or lessons at some point or another. Kitty had actually snoozed off so much during dinner one night after Logan had kicked her ass in session that her face slipped from the supporting hand to plop into her bowl of spaghetti. They'd laughed it up plenty. But it was a testament to their overall state of exhaustion.

He shrugged. “Rest of 'em don't have a full schedule of classes like you.”

That was true enough, she thought. They'd all been enjoying a summer free of classes while she spent nights staring at her computer screen in volatile levels of wakefulness.

He sauntered over and pulled over a chair, flipping it backwards. He swung a leg over, straddling it. He rested his arms on the edge.

“Came to check on you.” He gentled his voice. “You were off today.”

She bristled at that. “I recall having been the one to rupture your stomach, not the other way around.”

He shrugged. “I let it happen.”

She stood up in indignation. “The hell you did!”

He reached for her arm and pulled her back down into her seat.

“Relax, Marie. I ain't here to bite your head off over it.”

She brought her foot back up and rested her chin on her knee. Absently, she flipped some pages in her Lit book. “I was distracted.”

He nodded. “By?”

“Just...” She sighed and flopped her foot down, leaning back on her chair. “...Things. Nothin' important.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Important to who?”

She took a deep breath, spearing her fingers through her hair. “To anyone, Logan.”

He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper and string. He held it out to her. She looked at it strangely.

“You gonna open it?”

She looked up at him. “Wha...”

“Your birthday may not be important to you, Marie. But some of us might think it a nice occasion. Nineteen, right?”

She blinked. “How did you..?”

She'd never told anyone her name, birthday, even where she came from. Annoyingly, they knew she came from Mississippi. It was hard to miss with her accent and all but that was unavoidable. No one in the mansion knew any other details about her. That was how she'd wanted it.

Even Logan, who had the distinction of being the only exception to that rule, never called her Marie in front of anyone else so she was pretty sure that information was protected.

He'd been privileged with that insight during a ridiculously stupid time of her life. She hadn't regretted her decision to tell him, but it hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done in hindsight. He could have been anyone. She'd run into plenty of nightmarish individuals at that time. Then again, it seemed to have turned out pretty well.

He shrugged. “Have my ways.” He lifted the package a tiny bit. “You gonna take it or what?”

She reached out and grabbed the package with her gloved hand, looking at him warily. She turned it over in her hands a couple times before she looked up at him.

“You haven't told anyone...?”

He sighed. “Jesus, Marie. No. Now open the damned present.”

She grinned and raised her brow. She hadn't received a birthday present in three years. The thought made her a bit sad.

He gave her his own raised brow and she laughed. Turning to the little package, she tried to untie the knots. Her gloves always got in the way. He offered to help but she shook her head and told him to just wait. She placed the small package in her lap and pulled off her gloves. Picking up the package once more, she smiled at him.

“I can't believe you got me a present.” She pulled at the knots. Logan smiled proudly.

Finally, string gone, she tore at the paper until she was left with a small box. She opened the lid to find a silver chain. She glanced back at him and he nodded for her to look closer. She lifted the chain and placed the box on her desk. She let the pendent fall into her other hand and she looked more closely at it.

It seemed... “Is that...?” She jerked her eyes up. “St. Jude?”

He nodded. She looked down at the beautiful artistry. Spun silver had been beautifully worked into the image. It was only the size of her thumb but she could see the intricately detailed work. She turned it over and her mouth fell open. Marie was engraved gracefully on the back.

He sat there watching her. She felt the flush creep into her face. “How did you know?”

He sighed and cleared his throat. “Like I said, I have my ways.”

She gaped at him. She smiled and looked at her beautiful present again. “Does your way include reading minds?” she asked. “Because that's just about the only way you could have...”

Her laughter died down abruptly mid-sentence and she looked back up. He must have noticed her dismay because he shifted uncomfortably.

“You read my file.” It was a simple statement.

He sat up a bit. “Does it matter?”

She stood up, gripping the necklace in one hand. “You read my file!”

He raised his hands, his voice soft. “Only some of it. I needed to. It was important.”

“Important?” she gasped. “My personal, private, conversations with the Professor?”

“Yes.” He he said sternly. “Even those. Look, Marie. I was trying to look out for you.”

“Did you get a kick out of them?” she asked derisively.

“Jesus. No, Marie.” He looked almost disgusted.

“Those were private, Logan.” She could feel the embarrassment climb up her spine.

“I know.” He placated. “Look, I tried to skip over that stuff but..”

“But, what?” She could feel the pressure in her eyes. Damn it! She'd spent so much time trying to forget all that. She'd gotten it off her chest with the Professor and her nightmare was supposed to have died with him. She'd counted on that.

“I needed all the information I could get. You don't talk about any of that stuff, so I got it myself.” He was angry, but not at her. He wanted her to think it was OK, that he'd been right to sneak around. She grew angrier still.

“You're one to talk, Logan.” She covered her eyes with one hand. Gritting her teeth she desperately tried not to cry. She pulled it away and glared at him, the sting becoming unbearable. “You won't say two words together about Jean. But I don't push you. It's obvious it hurts too much so I let it be. Why couldn't you have given me the same courtesy?”

The force of her words forced his breath in and he took a step back like she'd slapped him. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “Marie,” he said softly.

“Don't.” She snapped. She turned away bringing her fists up to press against her traitorous eyes. The necklace was still gripped in her hand.

He actually advanced on her. He pulled at her waist, turning her to face him. She jerked back, finding it impossible to keep the absolute mortification from rising in her throat. He reached again, this time trying to place one hand on her hair. She shrieked, “Don't touch me!”

He jerked his hands back, but the one he'd placed on her hip brushed up and brushed against her skin just over her jeans. She felt the draw. She felt her skin open up and she felt her senses deepen. She wasn't prepared. Her skin wrapped around his mutation and violently grabbed at his thoughts. Worry. Contrition. Fear. Tenderness.

She realized they weren't her own thoughts and threw herself back, trying to break contact. She opened her eyes and noticed Logan leaning on her dresser heaving for breath, face pale. She'd almost knocked him out.

His eyes found hers and her head shook briskly side to side. No...oh God, no. She tore her eyes away from his and brought her hands up slightly, looking down upon them. She opened her fists and the necklace fell to the floor. She didn't even notice as a sickening dread washed over her. Her skin crawled with sensation, itching to take more.

“I didn't....” She could hardly say it. “I didn't mean it.” She glanced up and felt the first tears finally run down her face. “I...”

He found his footing and reached for her again. “Marie...” He looked... God, he looked tender.

The mortification curled in her stomach and became terror. Her only protection against hurting people was falling to pieces. Touch. All she'd needed to do was not touch, and she could at least participate in society. Oh, God. She felt her skin open up, felt it reach again. For what? She turned to run out her door.

“Rogue? What...?” Bobby's figure came around the corner just as she ran through it. They collided and fell to the floor. Her skin exploded madly and reached out, finding the sweet, intoxicating feel of his immense mutation. She felt it latch on and then violently yank, harder than it had ever yanked before.

The hit was so fast, so violent, she wasn't prepared for the intrusion. His panic came through and melded with her own. She could feel his heartbeat in her ears and revolted. She didn't want his heartbeat!

She clenched her eyes and threw herself back, falling back into her room. She slammed into the chair, flipping over and collapsing to the floor as she felt cold seep into her veins. She shoved back blindly with her legs until her back hit the dresser hard, knocking several things to the floor around her.

Frost tinged her fingers and her breath came out as crystals. When she looked up hysterically, Bobby was collapsed on the floor. His skin was pale and veins stood out on his neck.

“No!” she shrieked. “No!”

“Marie!” She could hear Logan but she couldn't see him. Her vision doubled and then tripled. It disoriented her and only served to panic her more. She felt his hands grab at her and dig into her hair. He turned her face and shook her. “Marie! Stop!”

Bobby's confused and panicked thoughts invaded her mind. His heartbeat slowed in her ears. Delicious frost built up around her vision. “Marie!” Logan yelled.

She felt it creep over her face down her neck. So addictive, so amazing. She couldn't stop it, didn't want to stop it.

She looked down when she could see through the ice better to a handheld mirror that had fallen off the dresser and she was surprised to see Bobby's eyes. Iceman's eyes. Hers. Iced over. It was spreading through her face, down her neck. It was consuming her. She looked back at Logan and suddenly didn't want it anymore. She didn't want to drown. “Logan...” She gripped at his shirt, he was looking at her so intensely. God, she couldn't turn it off. It spread over her shoulders and down her hair. “Help me...”. His eyes grew terrified and he gritted his teeth. Something pierced her skin and the world went dark.

He felt her body go limp as her head dropped back.

“Marie!” The ice melted away, her skin coming back quickly, up her neck, her cheeks, nose, and eyes. He thought for a terrified moment her mind had collapsed under the strain. It took him a couple of frantic breaths to notice the needle sticking out from her arm. He looked away from her face to see Hank, breathing hard, his medical bag sitting next to him, pulling out the needle.

“What did you give her?” he growled.

“A powerful sedative. I didn't have any other option, Logan. She nearly killed Bobby. I'm sorry.” He looked upset at having dosed her with so much. He checked her pulse through her gloves and grimaced. “Her pulse is thready. We should get her downstairs. I don't want to be ill-prepared if it has negative side-effects on her.”

Logan growled. “How much did you fuckin' give her, Hank?”

Hank stood and grabbed his bag. Logan noticed Storm in the room, holding Bobby steady as he struggled against unconsciousness.

“She was out of control, Logan. He used what he needed to get through her mutation,” she said.

He balked. They'd probably dosed her with enough to put even him down, they'd need to since she'd grabbed a huge chunk of his mutation before Bobby. He looked at her face and his stomach clenched. Her body wasn't accustomed to his healing ability. She would struggle with processing that amount of sedative. He stood and easily heaved up her body. Shit, she was light.

“Let's go,” he growled. “Quick.”

XX

Hank had her hooked up to heart monitors, worried her heart might fail under the weight of the sedative. Logan rubbed his hands in anger. Fuckin' could have put down an elephant with that much, he thought irately.

He stood against the wall, looking down at her. She was curled up on her side, covers pulled up over her shoulders. Dark circles had formed under closed eyelids. IV tubes ran down and connected to her left hand. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back, placing one foot against the wall. Shit. He clenched his eyes. For lack of a better way to put it, he'd just fuckin' watched Marie's mutation go rogue. It had been completely out of her control.

The thought made bile rise up in his throat. He’d already been forced to witness the Phoenix in control of Jean’s body. Now he was having to watch this take over Marie, in slow increments. It hadn't passed his notice on Alcatraz how much Rogue had enjoyed collecting powers. Ever since then, he'd sat by, albeit in roaring protest, as she worked to let it go even more. He had known this was a bad idea.

He couldn't quite wrap his head around the ridiculous amount of deja vu taking over his life. It hadn't been a pleasant surprise that day when she'd told him about her classification. Most mutants would have been ecstatic to have so much power. He should have been happy for her. But he couldn't help the feeling of dread that had crept up his back.

They would come after her. They would take her away from him and do...God, do things he couldn't think about. The thought of her as a lab rat made him physically sick. He'd survived losing Jean, barely. Losing Marie...

“Jesus fuckin' Christ,” he muttered, raking his hands through his hair. He stood straight and walked in a small circle as he felt panic rise in his chest. He wasn't used to feeling like this.

How was he supposed to stop this? Stop her mutation from taking over the way Jean's had? In the process, how was he supposed to keep her under the radar?

Those assholes would come looking for her and her whole life would be upended. She'd been working so hard. Before the whole fiasco at Alcatraz had gone down, she'd just started college after working her ass off to finish high school. Even after, she'd taken on more than the other younger members and pushed to learn to fight while still attending college classes.

He'd personally taken responsibility for her physical training long ago, just after Alkali Lake. She'd had the moxie to put that Pyromaniac in his place and the outright mettle to pilot the blackbird. She'd pretty much rescued all of them in the process of being told to stay put. She'd earned that uniform as far as Xavier had been concerned. But not as far as he was.

He'd been caught off guard the day she'd hidden in his camper. Who the fuck did she think she was? She was scraggy, on the street long enough to know not to climb into cars with men like him. Men that would look at her and think sinful thoughts. Turns out to have been an omen. He'd developed a connection with her, a need to know she was OK.

Then he'd met Jean, a woman that made him feel like he could be the good guy. He'd met the professor, a man who held so much confidence and faith in him, he started to believe it himself. Storm, a friend who called him out on his shit. Even Scott, and their territorial pissing contest -- even with him he'd developed a comradeship for a short time. Until everything hit the fan. The fallout of which had forced him to face his loner tendencies and take on the responsibility of instructor.

All of it, every ounce of self-worth he now held had started with Marie. Had she not climbed into his truck that day, he'd be still driving aimlessly around drinking beer, screwing random barflies and fighting scum. He wasn't about to let her go off with the X-geeks unprepared to survive. So he'd beat the shit out of her in training hoping she'd learn to keep someone else from doing the same thing.

She'd gotten pretty good, too. She'd been able to down him more than any of the other X-geeks, even Storm or Hank. He figured she'd permanently picked up on some of his fighting habits and instincts through her absorption of him at Liberty Island. Still, he always felt his chest fill up pridefully when he watched her just about castrate the men in a fight.

And as time passed, and she improved, spent time with him, he'd gotten to see her real side. The smart-mouthed southern belle with a wickedly sharp sense of humor. Her southern indignation at being treated as though she were ignorant was tempered by an understanding of human nature he envied. She struggled with her past, wanting no one to have the power over her that her parents had, yet gave herself fully to relationships with her friends, her teachers, her teammates, with him.

Since she'd told them about her classification and those doctors at Worthington Labs wanting a piece of her, he'd been pulling a lot of long nights researching Marie. He'd been shocked at how little he could find on her. He knew only that she came from Mississippi. But when he'd looked at every state site, there were no reports of a missing girl. Nothing. No one had claimed her. He'd been forced to resort to going through her files here at the school. Teacher files were of no use, so he stooped to the level of going through her personal files.

Xavier had been having meetings twice a week with her. That had surprised him. When he read her file in more depth he had found himself embedding his claws into Xavier's beautifully crafted mahogany desk.

Everything had been perfect in her life. Everything. She'd been the poster daughter for a well-to-do Catholic family in Meridian, Mississippi. She'd gotten good grades, played sports, attended mass regularly, everything. She'd stayed out of trouble her whole life until one fateful first kiss. And after the ambulances and police officers finished their interviews and had driven away, when her father had finished the cover story of some sort of seizure with the boy, he'd walked over to her and promptly beaten her to within an inch of her life, screaming about a demon or some shit like that.

It had been difficult for him to read about, much less listen to the voices on the tapes the professor kept of their conversation on the issue. He'd listened to her voice shakily describe how her mother had stood by, crying into her apron, while her father threw her around the living room, telling her she was a monster. She'd cried and begged, promised she'd do anything for him not to be angry with her. Trying through her tears and his kicks to convince him she wasn't the devil.

The only mercy he held for her was to throw her onto the front porch, beaten and broken. Her mother had sniffed and cried and said, “You're not Marie anymore,” and then turned away back into the house. And Marie, the perfect daughter who'd worked so hard to be what her parents had wanted was left out on the street that night, in the long skirt and tank top she had been wearing and no shoes.

That had been about all he could take. He read a few side notes from the professor about a St. Jude and her attachment even after months on the road and it wasn't until days later that he looked it up and realized the significance.

There were other tapes, but he couldn't do it. Couldn't listen to her soft voice, devoid of emotional attachment, explain the next seven months of her life. He'd left that weekend and tried to drink himself into a stupor, an act that was never very successful. Marie's soft voice haunted him for weeks after that. If he'd known what that weak-ass excuse for a mother had said to her, when Marie had needed her the most, he would have insisted on calling her by her birth name from the beginning.

XX

It was late the next evening when she finally cracked her eyes. He didn't notice at first. He'd taken up a position at the corner of her room straddling a chair, head resting in his arms. After twelve hours on heart monitors, Hank had determined she wouldn't have any ill effects and had unhooked her from the machines. It was then and only then that he'd let himself close his eyes, secure in the knowledge that she only needed time and he wouldn't need to touch her.

He heard shuffling and raised his head to meet up with her foggy eyes. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Hey.”

She blinked and shifted, uncurling her legs slightly under the blanket. Her eyes shifted around, looking to determine where she could be.

“Med-lab,” he supplied. She focused again on his and he saw the comprehension finally dawn. She scrunched her eyes and lifted her hands to grind the palms again them. He stood and walked over to her, squatting down to be face to face.

“Hey, no. It's OK. Everyone's fine.”

She stopped to breathe, looking like she was concentrating on something. He had a sick feeling she was shutting up the voices in her head. She finally relaxed and tried to sit up.

“Let me...wait.”

He pushed his hand behind her shoulders and took her hand in the other. Slowly, he lifted her into a sitting position. He held on while the vertigo passed through her eyes.

“Ya got it?” he asked. She nodded and he straightened out.

He grabbed her some water and held it to her mouth. He steadied her hand with his gloved one as she finished off two glasses and half of a third.

“Why am I so thirsty?” Her lips were cracked and bleeding.

He pressed his lips together before answering. “Using Icepop's powers sucked you dry, darlin'.”

She took a deep breath and shivered. “I can't believe...” she brought her bare hands up to look at them. “I didn't mean to. I didn't want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“He's OK, though? Bobby, I mean.”

He nodded.

“And you?”

“Fine, Marie.” She nodded and placed her head into her hands, bringing up her knees to rest it there.

“You OK?”

She groaned. “Mah head feels like it's inside a jet engine.” He smiled. It never stopped amusing him when that accent pushed through, thick as molasses.

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Between the dehydration and the sedative, you've got a lot going on up there.”

He pressed his lips together again. “Marie?”

She glanced through the curtain of her hair. “You'd tell me if you were havin' trouble with people in your head, right?”

She sighed. “It's not. It's not too bad. Bobby's pretty quiet. And you, you only say good things.”

He nodded, satisfied. “Good.” Then, he added, “You tell me if you have a problem, OK? We'll get you help.”

She snorted. “You gonna check me in to a psychiatric hospital?”

He growled, “That's not fuckin' funny, Marie.”

She patted his hand as an apology.

“I mean it.” She nodded and smiled softly. He felt his chest constrict.

“I'm sorry. About the files. I didn't...shit!” He growled and clenched his hands. “I didn't know the stuff you'd told the professor. I thought...I thought you were like every other runaway here at the school. I didn't...realize.” She looked up and she was staring at him, holding her breath. “I'm sorry, Marie. I'm sorry.”

She swallowed hard and looked down at her shaking hands. “I'm sorry, too.”

He shook his head. “You didn't...”

“Yeah, I did,” she sighed. “I shouldn't have brought Jean up. I know...I know it's painful for you and I used it to get back at you for snoopin'.”

He didn't take his eyes off her. He'd noticed her pointed commentaries a while back when he was hitting up the bar scene. He'd also noticed she'd never really verbally acknowledged that he'd stopped going. He still needed to get out now and then, fight out some of his...tension...but the one-night-stands left him more frustrated than when he'd left the mansion and he'd given up on finding a release for 'that' particular kind of itch. He'd condemned himself to long nights and cold showers.

The other thing he had noticed, and never corrected, was the all-inclusive assumption that it had been about Jean.

“What do you wanna know?” Her eyes came up and brows came down. She looked confused. “Ask me about Jean. Only fair.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I...” he could see her scrambling for a question. She took a deep breath and blew it out, building up her courage. “Why didn't you let me do it?”

He hadn't expected a question like that. He blinked. “I needed to make sure.” She raised one perfect brow. He growled. “I needed to make sure she knew.”

“That you loved her,” she said it softly. He nodded, swallowing past a dry throat. She pressed her lips together and looked down.

“Did she? Know?”

He nodded. My last words to her.

She smiled softly. “Good.” She paused for a few breaths. “Love like that,” she grimaced. “I'm glad she knew.”

He suddenly had the urge to reach for her. He settled for laying a hand against her sheet covered leg.

“It wasn't like that.” She looked at him blankly. “I loved her. But it wasn't some all-consuming love. I hardly knew her.”

He waited and when she didn't reply he continued, “First I met Jeanie was when we got here. Only had half a day of flirting before shit fell apart.” She grimaced.

“Wasn't your fault. By the time everything was said and done, we'd had less than three hours alone where I was conscious.” He watched her pick at the lint on the sheet. He listened to the slow steady reassuring beat of her heart.

It was a whirlwind romance. He'd acknowledge it. By the time he'd come back to check up on Marie, Jean and Storm were headed out. The most time he'd gotten alone with her was in the woods after they'd gone down in the jet. His fantasies about her had consumed him like fire and he wanted her so badly he could barely stand it. And she had wanted him, sort of.

And that was the problem right there. Her loyalty to Scott was unshakable. She loved him, but not like she loved Scott. The next thing he knew, she'd locked them into the jet and had made herself a fuckin' martyr. He'd never gotten the chance to know her.

He watched as Marie pulled up a knee and settled her chin on it the way she did whenever she was thinking quietly, reflectively. He blinked.

“Marie.” she tucked white hair behind her ear and looked up. “I loved her. But not like Scott loved her.”

She smiled. “Love's a bitch and all that, right?”

He huffed a small laugh. “Something like that.”

He breathed in, holding in the air that held her scent before plunging in. He reached into his pocket and drew out the silver chain. He played with it in his hands.

“You dropped it in the room, when things got out of hand.” She reached for it and he let the pendent land on her fingers. She brought it up and stared at it. Hard.

“I thought, from his notes...” he tried to lace in all his desires into this explanation. “It helped you. When you were on the road, alone. There were a lot of references to it. I wanted to remind you that you aren't a lost cause. That your mutation isn't a lost cause.” She looked at him tenderly.

“I'm here,” he reassured. “I'm not leaving you.”

Her eyes glowed when she smiled. Their chocolate warmth always calmed his nerves. “Happy Birthday, Marie.”

She smirked. “My birthday was yesterday, Logan.”

He shrugged. “Better late than never.”

She laughed quietly. “Thank you.” Yeah, her eyes definitely glowed when she smiled.

That day in Mississippi, when her whole world had come crashing down, when her father labeled her a demon and her mother had forsaken her, Marie had thought would be the end of her life. It felt more like a nightmare than reality. How, in the space of the ten seconds it had taken for her to down Cody, had everything gone to hell?

In her father's eyes, she literally had. She'd stumbled through the questions from the police with trembling hands as the ambulance drove away with Cody's seizing body. Her father stood by, staring at her in fear. He'd interrupted the conversation only to make sure there was no mistaking that 'no one touched the boy'. At the time, she had followed along with his words, confident in the thought that he'd been trying to protect her. Turns out he was just protecting his good name.

They lived in the South, for God's sake. People around there weren’t exactly known for their liberal and welcoming views. It had always shocked her how much hate people could hold in their hearts. Mutant sentiment was something you didn't discuss in polite society, it was thought so filthy.

Society always latched on to something to blame for their ills. But damn if the KKK wasn't alive and well, burrowed deep within Meridian, Mississippi culture, still ranting and raving about race. Mutation had just given them another group of people to discriminate against. They were going to start running out of viable white men if they weren't a bit more picky with the groups they decided to discriminate against, she'd thought.

But she went to mass each Sunday and communed with the Lord, believing every inch of bullshit they'd laid out for her. Believed in a Father who loved even the Lepers, with their poison skin. Believed in redemption and kindness and the outright goodness of man.

And then he'd turned to her when the last officer pulled away from the drive and gave her such a blow to the face, she'd flown back over the coffee table from the force of impact. Her mother, who had been sitting silently in the corner, cried out in dismay and covered her face.

Marie had been so shocked, she hadn't registered the blood soaking into her shirt from her gushing nose. She held a shaking hand to throbbing face and stared in utter horror at him.

She'd begged him to stop. To please, stop. She hadn't meant to hurt Cody. It was an accident. She'd begged and cried and his only response was to kick and beat, yelling craziness about the demon in his home. She'd turned to her mother and grabbed desperately at her apron from the floor where she huddled in fear begging her for help.

And the emptiness that filled her soul when her mother jerked away and buried her face in her hands as she turned her body into the corner...it had been...

She stopped believing in the goodness of man that day.

And then her father had thrown her out, ripping out a handful of hair in the process, heaving in anger and even crying in outrage. Her mother pulled him back inside soothing and coddling him. Marie had tried, like an idiot, one more time. She'd called to her mother, “Mama, please...I'm not a demon, I'm Marie!” and her mother had stripped her name away and closed the door quietly and sadly, fully prepared to mourn the loss of her daughter to the devil.

Rogue had lain sprawled out on the porch, coughing up blood and crying hysterically. She'd heaved in breaths of air, each one piercing her chest with pain. When, a year later, Jean had given her the first medical check-up she'd had since that day, she'd discovered the four healed fractured ribs. At the time, she'd thought her heart was dying. She'd finally scrambled to her bare feet and hobbled off, shivering from shock.

There had been no charity for her those first days. Her abused appearance and inability to touch had made her the worst of lepers. She slept in the street behind grocery stores, finding a few old and smelly clothes to wrap her skin in. She'd been reduced to dumpster diving for food by the fourth day, desperate for anything to fill her stomach.

She found an open shelter in Jackson on the sixth day where she finally showered and received some cursory medical care from sneering nurses forced to attend to a 'mutey' by law. She'd looked at her swollen face in the mirror after her painful shower. The discoloration on her skin, the swelling around her eyes and nose...she couldn't recognize her own face.

And she'd felt the anger well up...finally. The indignation, the fury... it was white hot and pooled in her stomach. She'd begged at their feet for mercy and understanding. Her father had towered over her as though he were Jesus himself, and refused to see her. She'd given them all the power, never seeing before how closed-minded and hateful they were toward mutants. Toward people like her.

That night, she'd knocked out the three sneering medical nurses and robbed them blind, scoring some $600 in cash from their bodies and cars and three very intricate if not ironic 24 carat gold and diamond crosses. She was out of the state before morning.

XXX


When she sat down in the office with the team, the truth about her classification finally came out. Bobby's eyes grew wide and he grinned. Kitty looked floored, Warren sat by quietly and Jubes snapped at her gum and quipped, “Damn, chica. Where'd the power surge come from? You stick your fingers in a light socket?”

She groused about needing to learn control and apologized profusely to Bobby.

He nodded and laughed, “I knew you couldn't keep her hands off my powers. You've been itching to get a go at it ever since Alcatraz.”

She wasn't comfortable with just how close to the truth he really was with that statement. When she glanced over at Logan, she could tell he wasn't pleased with the comment either.

“I wanted to talk about that,” she said with resolve. And that got Logan's attention.

Hank smiled warmly. “I'm glad you feel ready to talk about it, Rogue. We've been speculating about it for a while and it would help to have your input.”

She nodded.

“What do you want to know.” With everyone in the room, she felt a deep blush start to creep up her cheeks.

“For starters,” Hank begun, pushing at the glasses sitting on his nose. “We've been wondering about the difference in effect it seems to have on humans and mutants. As I understand it, it first manifested itself on a human, correct?”

She gave an inner groan. “Um, yeah. Cody.” She shifted uncomfortably.

“And what, may I ask, ever happened to the boy? I'm sorry if speaking of this is difficult, Rogue. But it is relevant.”

She shifted a bit more, glancing at Logan. He was strangely quiet, staring at her with hard eyes.

“He, umm, ended up in a coma for three weeks.”

She'd had to call the hospital four times to get any information pretending to be his older sister away at college. “They took him to Baltimore after that. To Kennedy Krieger. It's a rehab facility for children through Johns Hopkins,” she said by way of explanation. “I found my way over there a month or two later, to check on him. I didn't get to stay long. I was afraid his parents would recognize me. But he was....” she swallowed. “...Pretty bad off.”

“I see.” Hank sighed deeply. “That's rather unfortunate. I'm sorry, Rogue. That must be difficult to speak of.” She worried her bottom lip. She wasn't used to everyone around her knowing about this stuff. “And, have you touched anymore humans since?”

Oh, man. This was going to be uncomfortable to say the least. She took a deep breath and felt the blood rush to her face. “Four times since then.”

Storm's eyes shot up. Logan's entire demeanor shifted. He leaned forward, listening to every word.

“The first time...was actually three different woman.” A stunned silence filled the room. “It was a week or so after I left home. They were at the shelter and they were cruel to me. I didn't have a dime to my name and they kept whispering vulgar things behind my back loud enough that I could hear.” Storm’s eyes went sad. “I barely brushed each of them and they passed out cold.” She wouldn't finish off the story of picking their pockets.

“Wow,” was Kitty's only response.

“Huh. Nice work, chica,” Jubes said. Storm glared at her reproachfully.

“What?” she shrugged. “I'd 'a given shock therapy.” There were small laughs. Even Logan gave a half a grin.

Hank cleared his throat and pressed on. “Go on, Rogue. After that?”

“A trucker.” She picked at the invisible lint on her gloves. “You know, when he got too grabby.” His name had been Big Sam. She rolled her eyes at the memory of his lewd thoughts about her dick-sucking lips. She'd had the heebie-jeebies for weeks after that. He'd been a fat and sweaty disgusting blob of a man. Ick!

Logan's hands clenched and he stood up abruptly. He turned away from them and stomped to the window, staring out with resolve.

They all watched him momentarily before Hank broke the quiet. “Um, yes. Rather unfavorable news. You were unharmed, I hope.”

“Yes. Nothing happened. Just...you know...broken record and all.” He nodded.

“And he, too, passed out?”

“He umm...I think he was worse. I got more of him than the nurses and he looked worse...”

“I see.” He cleared his throat. “The last was Moira, here at the school just recently. The other?”

She looked down and clenched her jaw. Might as well, she thought bitterly.

“A gang-member in Detroit.” She'd been living in an abandoned warehouse with a number of other homeless teens. It was cold as sin, which made it easier to cover up and not have questions asked of her.

“Lots of the other kids around me were hooked on meth. So there'd be drug-pushers around all the time.” She peeked up and noticed Logan had turned to face them. He looked almost amazed.

“Rough,” said Jubilee. She smiled at the yellow-clad fireball. Jubes had been in a similar situation herself way back when and always used humor to push past her own memories. But she felt like a kindred spirit. A sister of war, so to speak.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “One of them kept trying to get me to try some. On the house...” Only to get her hooked so she'd need to keep on buying. “He cornered me once and tried to get me to take a hit with him. I threw his stash to the floor and called him a filthy street-rat,” and hadn't that been a bad decision. “He got me up face-first against a fence in the alley...”

“Jesus fuckin' Christ!” His exclamation caught her off guard and she jumped a bit in her seat. She looked over to notice he was just about breaking the wood of the chair he was gripping. “You ever think to stay away from shit-bags like that?” he snapped.

“No,” she hissed. “I was just some stupid little girl freezing her ass off in the middle of Detroit wondering where she was going to get her next meal. There was safety in numbers and the rest of them didn't ask questions. He caught me off guard, Logan. I didn't shake my ass in front of him.”

He froze in place, shocked at the acidity in her voice.

Storm gently found her voice. “Things happen when we least expect them to. I'm sorry that happened to you, Rogue.”

She pulled her glare away from Logan when his eyes softened in regret and looked around. Kitty looked a little green around the edges. Not unexpected. She'd come from a loving family. She'd never been exposed to the things Rogue and Jubilee had. No wonder she and Bobby get on so well. They both came from nice families directly to the mansion. Bobby hadn't experienced his first dose of reality until right before Alkali lake. She smiled inwardly. They would be good for each other.

Warren stammered. She'd almost forgotten he was there. He was always very quiet, never wanting to intrude.

“So you touched him?” It was so innocent, the way he thought. If Bobby and Kitty had been sheltered, poor Warren was completely left in the dark.

She remembered the snapped metal edges digging into her cheek and neck. “He touched me, I didn't touch him.” She would rather have suffered through an agonizing rape instead of having his thoughts in her mind. But that choice had been taken from her too.

“So,” Hank moved on carefully. “All of them, they were left in varying levels of unconsciousness.” She nodded. “As was Moira,” He added absently. “Curious that when you pull from mutants, it doesn't have quite the same effect.”

“When I pull from mutants, I pull at something different,” she offered. “Until Logan, that first night here, I didn't realize there was a difference. There's something different to pull at.”

She tried to explain, waving with her hands a bit. “My skin, it itches when mutants are around. When I see powers, I just...it's like an addiction. I'm drawn to it. I don't feel the need to take life,” she said desperately. “Just, mutation.”

“Makes sense,” Jubilee offered. They all glanced at her. “Well, doesn't it? I mean, her mutation, it's absorption.” She said it as if it were so obvious. “Like a little sponge.”

She smiled at Rogue. “It's evolution, right? The fundamental drive to survive. To be the best. She craves mutations because they better her chances of survival.” She shrugged. “Probably why you've been staring at Bobby so hard during training when he's full-on Iceman. Bet that much power just made your mouth water.”

They all stared at her in incredulous stupor.

“Oh.” It was the only thing she could say. It knocked over pieces in her head, each falling into place, creating a fascinating picture.

“That's why I could feel my skin open up before Bobby even came in the room. When his mutation is near, mine gets all hyped up.” But damn.

“But why so much with Bobby?” Kitty asked, perplexed.

“ 'Cause he's a class four.” Logan supplied. “Stronger than the rest of our mutations.” He was deep in thought. “That's why yours pulled so hard, Rogue. It wanted as much of it as it could get. The rest of us, we're small pickins' compared to Snowcone, here.”

Hank was nodding aggressively. “Yes, yes. It makes sense. You probably feel different levels within the mutant community.”

“That's why it feels like a hit of ecstasy every time,” she said absently. She blushed and looked down.

XXX

By October, she could pick out mutations, leaving others behind. It required more than a brush -- more concentration and an actual knowledge of what the person had. If she didn't know what was there, she wouldn't be able to pick one out of the crowd.

She toyed with the idea of trying to pull thoughts again but she found it difficult to find volunteers. Logan, who had submitted to having the power sucked from him time and again had growled a stumbled refusal at the idea of her reading his thoughts.

With all the progress came more strength and confidence. In hand to hand combat now, she practiced using her touch to grab at powers more easily. The uniform limited her area of touch but it worked. She really enjoyed going through so many mutations. But the more times she took, the more her fingers itched.

And yet with all the advancements she had made, there remained one bridge she couldn't cross. She couldn't make it stop. She couldn't turn it off. Her skin, even after all this time, was still always on. It crushed a bit of her soul each day.

XXX

Gambit arrived in early November, from Louisiana. His suave demeanor and flirtatious accent had Jubilee speculating about which X-woman would be the first to fall into his bed. He was handsome enough. With eyes that glowed red and a knack for slight-of-hand, back home they would have called him slicker than a greased monkey. “The kinda man who'd ruin a girl,” her mother would say.

At the first group training since his arrival, Kitty and Jubes spent a lot of their time watching his demonstration of powers with awe and delight. When he finished, Logan broke them up into pairs to spar.

“Rogue, keep your gloves on,” he'd called. “No powers today, X-geeks. Just flesh and bone.”

She rolled her eyes and yanked her gloves back on. She’d been hoping to get a chance at that handy electrical charge Gambit had. She wondered how different from Jubilee's it would be.

“Would the beautiful Rogue like to partner with Gambit?”

She looked up. He stood only a few feet away but his leer of appreciation at her leather-clad figure could have been seen in the middle of a football field. His Cajun accent was blatantly thick.

When his eyes froze on her chest, she could have groaned in annoyance.

“Eyes up top, Sparky,” she snapped icily. Red orbs snapped up to hers with amusement.

“'Dis beautiful creature's not shy, non?” He sauntered up to her and smiled. “Get to know Remy better, chère.”

She snorted and pushed at the leather in between her fingers to fit it better. She found it incredible. She'd never been outright flirted with. She snapped the connections to the rest of her uniform in place, a special alteration made for her suits to close the gap in between glove and sleeve. She felt his hand brush her cheek before she realized he'd moved closer. Without time to prepare, she hadn't concentrated and her mutation hooked on.

His face contorted in pain and electricity flew from his hand through her face and down her spine. The thing about not being prepared was she couldn't stop the rush. Images of New Orleans crashed into her mind, an endless string of women, lewd thoughts about her own figure.

His body was pulled away and slammed to the floor. Gambit's breath heaved and Storm knelt down to check his pulse.

Rogue's body shook from the electrical current running through her. Wow, she thought. Way stronger than Jube's. Like sticking my finger in a socket.

Logan turned from Gambit and stalked over to her. One hand grabbed at her shoulder while the other dipped into her hair and cradled her face. She blinked rapidly.

“You OK?” He crouched down to look at her face. “Rogue?”

She braced herself in the crook of his arm, trying to incorporate the hum in her bones.

“Damn,” she breathed. She gulped and responded. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just....” She felt a shiver of delicious electricity climb up her spine. “Give me a sec.”

He growled menacingly. “Your eyes are red.” She huffed. He passed her off to Kitty who’d brought her some water and then turned to Gambit who tried to stand shakily with Storm's assistance. He raised his hand and pointed at the man.

“Hey, bub.” He advanced and crowded him with his size, growling deep in his throat. “You tryin' to get your hand sliced off, boy?”

“Logan.” Storm chastised. “It was an accident. He didn't know.”

Logan glared at her menacingly before turning his glare back to Gambit. “You better know what the hell's going on before you go touchin' her, Gumbo. I ever catch you layin’ a hand on her again without her permission and I'll hand you your balls with a nice pink bow tied around them.”

Nope, she thought a bit hysterically. He'd never been very vague.

She peeled the top of her uniform off her sweat- and blood-soaked skin, gritting her teeth as her shoulder pulled painfully from the movement. She hissed through her teeth and pulled the arm out. The black tank top she wore underneath was soaked through in sweat.

In the new Blackbird, she'd sat pulling at her gloved fingers, trying to hide their shaking while Kitty quietly lost her wits. Bobby sat with his eyes clenched. Jubes had stared out the window and cried silently, heaving in shaky breaths. Storm and Warren piloted and used it as a distraction, while Gambit mumbled irately to himself. Logan sat, his arms crossed, staring at nothing the entire way home.

She had trouble getting her second arm out, the tears that puddled in her eyes making it hard to see. She hadn't undone her glove and it was catching, too tight to fit over her wrist unsnapped. Regardless, she yanked savagely, determined to get it off.

“Damned...” yank, “Piece of...” yank, “Shit.” Yank, yank, yank. She sucked in a sob.

“Marie...” She lifted her head to see him standing at the doorway, still in his suit. His arms were crossed and he looked so much older than he had ten hours ago. She probably did too. He pushed off the side of the doorframe, softly grabbing her wrist and gently undoing the hated snap.

He turned her around and helped her peel the rest of the suit off, carefully avoiding her skin. She stood there, in just black panties and a tank top, silver chain twinkling in the soft light and it would have been embarrassingly erotic if it hadn't been so sad. He straightened up and moved as if to brush her cheek, but diverted at the last second to her hair. “Get a shower and get some sleep.”

She nodded and then shook her head vehemently when she thought better of it.

“I can't. I can't sleep. I can't dream.”

He sighed and pulled her into his chest.  He sat on the edge of the bed, and then pulled her down to lie next to him.  They were probably staining the duvet but she couldn't really care. She curled into his chest and quietly sobbed away the memories.

Jubes, Kitty and she had been skirting the perimeter of the woods in the dim twilight. The whole team had been in a fight with a mobile holding camp for mutants. The camp had been armed with military trained men, so they'd had a hell of a battle. She'd been limited to Logan's healing and senses during the fight, as there were no mutants to be found.

The information they'd gotten should have placed at least 50 mutants in the camp trailers. She'd been rared up to try a few. She castigated herself for her disappointment  -- she shouldn’t want it so much, this taste of other mutations.

Trained to rendezvous back at the jet in their separate groups, the three girls carefully climbed their way through bushes, Rogue using Logan's absorbed sense of smell to get them back. It was late January and so cold her lips were tinged blue. When the smell of rot started to burn her nose-hairs, she'd been confused. The further they moved back towards the jet, the worse it got.

“Ugh, damn!” As they moved forward, the smell become so potent she could barely stand it and it was getting in the way of the Blackbird's engine smell. She wasn't as good at distinguishing scents as Logan. Years of practice had trained him on how to smell minor differences she couldn't yet specify. Engine fuel was easy to smell. Its acrid scent never failed to catch her attention.

“What's the matter?” Kitty quietly asked.

“Can't you smell it?” Rogue gagged.

“I can,” Jubilee said, sniffing and cringing. “Smells like a dead rat.” They followed it for a few hundred feet, Kitty finally catching a whiff. “Pungent,” Jubes coughed.

Rogue eyes were watering. “What is it?” Kitty was covering her nose, kicking at the brush around her.

Rogue tried to find the trail, stopping twice to breath in through her mouth to stop the vomit from rising up her throat. “We're close.” She looked around, trying to see in the dark past the bushes. Kitty stepped over a rock and stumbled down, letting out a small squeak.

“Kitty!” She and Jubes leaped over the bushes to get to where she'd fallen.

“I'm OK,” she called. “Only a ten or so foot drop. Umph...mostly sloped. Let me get my footing and...” She fell quiet. The two of them pushed away some debris to look down when Kitty's scream had them jumping out of their skin.

“Kitty!” Jubes called, followed by Rogue. They scrambled to rip out the shrubs to be able to pull her up. She was screaming and crying when they could finally see over the ledge. They could hear her clawing at the side of a ditch, begging to get out.

“Jubes, grab my legs, quick!”

She didn't weigh very much, but Jubes didn't either so they struggled to pull Kitty up using rocks as leverage. Kitty was frantically crying, making it more difficult to pull her out.  Rogue grunted and strained, feeling her shoulder scream painfully. When they finally dragged Kitty over the loosely packed edge, she crawled back against a tree, covering her face and shaking her head back and forth.

Jubes, breathing heavily from the exertion stood shakily. “Chica, what happened?”

When Kitty wouldn't reply, Rogue turned to the ditch, which now, she noticed, looked to have been man-made. She looked over the edge, but the dark night cast everything in shadows. She thought she saw...

“Jubes?” She motioned her friend, now crouching next to Kitty soothing her, over.

“Can you run a current down there or something?”

Jubes blinked and shrugged.

“Won't give us a great view but we can try.”

She brought her hands up and electric currents ran between them. She grew the currents, widening her hands and stance as she poured more power in. Squeezing her hands closer suddenly, the pops and cracks of electricity contracted. She pushed out and down, and the currents dashed across the ditch, back and forth before they died off and the light with them. It gave them only a few seconds of light.

A hand came up and clapped around her strangled cry. Her own hand. Jubes grabbed her arm and turned her head away as the images registered. They'd found the missing mutants.

XX

She woke up warm. Curled against a mass of firm softness, as odd as that sounded. Her face was buried in flannel and it felt divine. She blinked and breathed deeply. God, her sheets even smelled like him.

She cuddled closer and felt the familiar rub of denim on her leg. Now, that was slightly off. She pulled her head back and...there was Logan, gazing back at her calmly. Wasn't that any girl's dream come true?

He raised his hand and brushed hair back away from her eyes.

“Hey.”

She blinked. Somewhere in the middle of the night, he'd gotten up from her bed, gone off to take a shower, dressed in jeans, socks, gloves and a flannel shirt and then calmly climbed right back into bed with her. It gave her all sorts of ideas. She could feel the blush rise up her neck and face.

“Hey.” She was at a loss for any other words.

“Feelin' better?” He looked worried. Better than what? The previous day's events slowly came back to her and she felt her stomach knot up.

She buried her face in his shirt again. “Not enough.”

He sighed and pulled her closer. “I'm sorry you saw those things, darlin'.”

She sighed. “I'm not.”

He pulled back and looked at her, searching her eyes for an explanation. She pushed back into his chest, mumbling her words.

“I”d rather know those kinda things go on. I don't want to be ignorant. I don't want to think the world works one way and it be the complete opposite, catching me one day by surprise and unprepared.”

He nodded and kissed the top of her head. “Like your parents.”

She nodded again. “Another lost cause.”

She took a deep breath and pushed to sit up. He seemed put out at the idea and she laughed awkwardly.

“You stayed with me all night?” She ran her hands through her hair and adjusted her tank top. The same one from last night. Ugh. “Must of smelled nice,” she muttered.

He sat up behind her as she attempted to reach for a robe. His gloved hand grabbed her bare arm, pulling her around to face him. He looked different. He opened his mouth to say something, and then clamped it shut, apparently thinking better of it.

He sighed and smiled softly. “Take a shower, get cleaned up, I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast.” She nodded and followed his movements as he climbed out of bed and padded to the door, closing it behind him.

XXX

It took a couple of weeks for everyone to start getting back to their normal routines. Kitty had gone back home for a while, trying to separate nightmare from reality. She came back from it though. A little more jaded, but still the same sweet Kitty.

None of the three younger X-women had been included in the discussions that revolved around dealing with the fallout from that night. Storm, Wolverine, Angel, Iceman, and Gambit took on the job of collecting. Hank spent days identifying and returning bodies back to their families. Those who had none were buried in a local cemetery.

By the very beginning of April, eventually, a sense of normalcy returned, as it always did after tragedy. Training picked up again and so did life. They went out on missions now and then. Sometimes only some of them, sometimes all, depending on the situation. They worked, and studied, and taught the younger students.

Gambit flirted mercilessly with Rogue. She was flattered. What woman wouldn't be? But she quietly turned him down time after time.

“Gambit want to know why 'dis pretty bird so difficult to catch?”

She laughed. “Maybe 'cause I don't belong in a cage, Remy.”

“Eehh,” he said knowingly. “Perhaps not in de Gambit’s cage..but maybe in with de Wolverine, non?”

She balked at his assumption and laughed. “You're reachin' pretty far there, Remy.”

“Non, Remy think not.” He leaned back reflectively. She'd nervously bit her lip and walked out. She wasn't comfortable with the conversation at all. She did not like the thought that she had been that transparent.

Still, they hung out some, laughing about randomness. She developed a friendship with him like she had with Jubes. He had a sense of humor that made her laugh and she enjoyed their time together.

In contrast, her time with Logan was growing tense. Since that night more than two months ago, when he'd slept in her room, he'd hardly spent more than fifteen minutes with her at any given time. She started to feel as if he were purposefully ignoring her. She would catch him leaving a room just as she was walking in, others in the room looking back at her in awkwardness. She would smile, chat, and then go up to her room and hide under covers.

One morning, when she'd shown up for their daily sparring session, she had been surprised to find Kitty and Jubes there too. He'd muttered something about the three of them needing to practice throwing their meager weight around, and that had been the end of individual sessions with Logan. She'd cried herself to sleep that night.

XXX

She and Remy became good friends though, and he served as one more distraction from her misery over Logan. Remy flirted endlessly in public, but with a carefree nature she enjoyed. In private, he confided a growing attraction to 'Ro that made her smile.

She'd give him advice on topics he could bring up with ‘Ro, and he in turn volunteered himself as a test dummy for power hits. He was getting the short end of the stick in her opinion.

They were down in the sparring room one late morning in May, before team practice. He'd been showing her some crafty moves he'd learned down in New Orleans and she was trying to perfect the graceful movements. The intricate twists and turns were dizzying in their complexity, but they worked well in situations where you had to quietly take out your enemy.

“You and Remy, chère, we don't have claws to slit throats. Eh? We have to find different ways.”

She'd made a bad turn on one combination and had ended up with her back pressed up against his thighs, her arms twisted half off, a dulled practice knife to her throat. She probably looked ridiculous in the position, she certainly felt ridiculous.

“Uncle!” she laughed.

“You two finished with the foreplay or should we leave?” Jubes’s voice.

Remy dropped his hands away gracefully and let go. She flopped to the floor with a snort. She stood and looked to see Jubes and Logan standing at the doorway, the others chatting back by the locker room.

Jubes had a smirk on her face. She snapped her gum, gazed momentarily at Logan and moved into the room with a hearty chuckle. Logan stood there, arms crossed over his chest, staring at Remy with those predatory eyes.

“Logan, ready to spar?” She was gonna try one of Remy's moves on him. She got all excited at the idea of catching him off guard and laying him on his back. In more ways than one, she thought devilishly. She shook her head and tugged her gloves on more securely.

His eyes switched from Remy to her and she had to catch her breath. They were wild and dark and downright feral. She felt her throat go dry. At some point in time, those eyes had started to make her stomach knot in delicious ways. It had been difficult not to have physical reactions around him. Right now it was damn near impossible.

“Not today.” He switched his gaze back to Remy. “I'm thinkin' I'll take a go at Gumbo here.”

XXX

She pounded up the stairs behind him, fuming.

“Logan,” she called. She'd stormed out of the practice room after him, ready to read him the riot act and possibly break his jaw. Whichever happened first, happened first.

The spar between he and Remy had turned startlingly violent. They'd pounded into each other with a ferocity she only knew in battle. Pete, freshly back from his year at college, had finally split them up by sheer force, Logan straining to get another punch in. He had been the instigator. After he'd pinned Remy in a choke-hold, he'd thrown him against a wall, shattering glass everywhere. Remy's temper had flared and they'd flown at each other.

She'd stared at him in disbelief as he'd stormed off, slamming doors the whole way up to his room like a petulant child. After a few moments of hesitation and checking on Remy, she'd jumped up and gone after him.

He'd made it to his room, so she pushed through and slammed it shut. “What was that?”

He was in the bathroom, splashing water on his face. He looked up into the mirror to see her reflection. “Little shit was gettin' on my last nerve.”

“So you threw him into a glass wall?” She asked incredulously.

“Maybe he'll learn,” he muttered as he walked back into the bedroom.

“To what? Fly?” She couldn't believe how he was acting.

He threw his towel aside and glared at her. “To stop sniffin' around you like you’re some dog in heat ready to be mounted!”

She flinched and took a step back.

“Logan, what...”


“He barks up every Goddamn tree, Marie.”

Huh? “Remy and 'Ro...”

“Yeah. I know,” he sneered. “They've been going at it for weeks now. But he's got his mangy hands all over you!”

She felt a blush of anger spread down her neck. She snapped. “What's it matter to you what I let him do with his hands, Logan?”

He crossed the distance between them, grabbing her hips and pushing her back up against the wall. She almost tripped over a pair of boots and had to grab his forearms to keep from falling. His body was suddenly flush with hers and she looked up to see his eyes flaring with anger and desire and...Oh, God.

“Because I'm the only fuckin' man who should be touchin' you like that.” He ground out the words, making liquid fire trail down her spine.

9 – Another Point of View

No one could say he didn't go after what he wanted. That's for damn sure. He'd always lived his life to please himself. When he wanted something, or someone, he didn't hesitate to go after it, or her.

Jean had been no exception, much to Scooter's annoyance. But he found himself stumbling over what to do day in and day out where it concerned Marie. When he wanted to fight, he grabbed a bike and rode to the nearest cage-fighting arena, even if it took three hours to get there.

Shit, if he wanted the remote control to watch a hockey game while the brats were watching some ridiculous musical about high school, all he had to do was bark out a commanding “Move!” and he was presented with an entire room to himself.

Marie had always thought it cute. CUTE! She'd saunter in behind scrambling students, watching them run for their lives and would softly laugh before plunking herself down next to him and cracking open an ice-cold beer, completely uncaring she wasn't of age. That was his girl.

And when exactly he'd starting calling her his girl in his head was beyond him. He'd found himself, over the past several months, starting to watch her. The way she moved, the way she smelled, the way she fought, the way she handled the students, the way she looked at him...he watched and it had become impossible to stop. He'd bought her that gift and he'd been surprised how much he cared what she thought of it.

When it hadn't gone the way he'd planned, he'd had to seriously re-evaluate his own point of view on her. She wasn't a kid on the side of the road anymore, struggling to prove she could take on the world. She'd grown up and learned she didn't have to prove herself to anyone. She was vibrant, kind, humorous, sassy...and fuckin’ the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And hadn't that thought thrown him for a fuckin' loop.

Where was he supposed to go from there? He was still busy trying to protect her like she was some kid while at the same time getting embarrassingly hard around her. He'd thrown up a couple of prayers of gratitude during those times that she'd made it to nineteen before he started fantasizing about her in bed, brown and platinum hair swinging down her pale naked back while she moved up and down against him, head fallen back in ecstasy. If she'd had any kind of decent father, the man would have had good reason to run him through.

And that ate at him more than anything else. It had been hard enough knowing she'd been cast out the way she had, like a damn leper. But he'd stopped at that when he'd gone through her records, unable to read on. Then she'd decided to fuckin' go and open-up to everyone like some kind of grown-up and dump his worst nightmare on him.

He'd almost grunted in satisfaction when she'd confessed to downing those three bigoted nurses. He could see from the look on her face there was more to that story but he had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be flattering to her -- in their eyes, not his. And then she'd grazed by the story about the kiddie-diddling pervert and dealer with no balls and he'd just about lost his mind.

So there he was, torturing himself about wanting this girl who'd been treated like the worst kind of street trash for the better part of a year, who deserved better than him, almost convincing himself to not touch and she had the nerve to go and pull off some spectacular missions and first-rate ass-kickings. She was making it fuckin' impossible not to want her.

On top of everything else, fucking Gumbo showed up and on the very first fuckin' day in the same room with her, the stench of his arousal spiked so high Logan thought he'd been brought here to do nothing but stud. It just about sent him through the roof.

He'd never considered him a threat, but his feral side had wanted to stick his adamantium claws straight through his gut and growl into his ear the word mine. But she'd taken his antics in stride and never paid him attention, even after the little Cajun shrimp had put his Goddamned hands on her and gotten himself a healthy dose of Marie's powers.

And when, after a long drawn-out fight, she and the girls had come across the reenactment of fucking Auschwitz, she'd kept it together long enough to get Kitty back to the jet. She'd kept it together enough to lead them back to the pit, to get back to the mansion, give a full detailed report and not lose it 'till she got to the privacy of her own room. He'd never been fuckin' prouder of her; Or more in love with her.

He'd almost spilled the beans that next morning.  When she'd woken up smelling like him and looking like she'd just rolled out of his bed after a very satisfying night, he'd wanted to tell her right then. But it would have been tainted. The previous night’s events had made the mood taut and he hadn't wanted it to be that way with her when he showed her. And he'd fully intended to show her.

Which is when he'd really started losing ground. 'Cause he couldn't be within twenty feet of her without her scent making his jeans unpleasantly uncomfortable. He'd tried. God, he'd tried. A few times, he thought he'd had it together. He would sit with her, they'd chat, she'd smile, he'd almost flirt and then she had to go and smell even more mouth-watering than she already did. Fuck!

'Cause he couldn't fucking handle any more sparring exercises with her. Her scent was always enhanced when she worked out and he always walked away in pain and not from her kicking his ass. She'd unavoidably rub up against him and he'd get hard. How was he supposed to get anywhere with her if he was going to act like a Goddamn teenager every time he was around her?

That's when he'd come up with the idea of training the three younger X-women together. It helped with the tension in the room and he'd actually thought it a good idea to teach them how to deal with men double their size. Problem solved, right? Wrong.

Jubilee had risked her life a couple times, making far-too-accurate speculations about his predicament. It wasn't too long before she was outright telling him he was fuckin' up. But he was Wolverine and he did things his own way and he always got what he wanted. Except this time.

He started noticing the Cajun sniffin' around her again. And this time, she seemed more open to the idea. They actually spent time together and he made her laugh, which just about killed Logan to see. He started to feel irate and insecure and fuckin’ possessive. He'd watch them together and want to drag her away to his room and teach her what it felt like to be touched. But instead he sat back in silent rage and watched her smile for the damn Cajun. He had thought he could handle it.

Until the fuckin' dickhead put his hands all over her during a ridiculous excuse for a sparring session.

XXX

“What's it matter to you what I let him do with his hands, Logan?”

He turned to her and felt the last edge of restraint snap. She needed to fuckin' know. He reached for her and couldn't help wanting to trap her to him. In moments, he had her pushed up against a wall with his body and he could just fuckin' feel every last curve of her.

“Because I'm the only fuckin' man who should be touchin' you like that.”

Mine! he thought wildly.

Her shocked gaze registered his words and suddenly -- Shit! -- he could smell her body react to him. His stomach coiled burning hot and he tightened his grip on her hips. Her scent was intoxicating and inside he roared in triumph. He turned his head and slowly swooped down, wanting to taste her mouth, wanting to drink her in. She wanted him!

“Don't,” she whispered.

Or not. He stopped his movement but didn't pull away. He brought his eyes up from her lips to her suddenly terrified eyes.

“My skin...” she added. And he could breathe again.

“Was never a problem...” he finished. He could see his words affect her. A blush slowly made its way up her neck and across her cheeks and he wanted to know just how far down it actually went.

“Marie...” It came out as a growl and wasn't it enticing the way she shivered at the sound of his voice.

“Let me touch you,” he begged.

He brought his thumbs up to gently rub over the cotton of her long-sleeved shirt. She caught her breath. He smiled inwardly and continued to trace small circles against her abdomen, feeling her muscles contract at his touch.

“I wish you could.”

She was so quiet and he could hear in her voice how much she meant what she'd said. He didn't have gloves on and he didn't want any accidents the first time he managed to get her like this.

But he wanted to touch her lips with the pad of his thumb, wanted to stroke her face and bury himself in her hair and then...the fuckin' phone rang.

10- Disturbances

She was about to black out from the sheer spike of arousal that had coursed through her veins at his words. She'd been so surprised by his hard body against hers she couldn't even think straight. And apparently, neither could he, as evidenced by his almost kissing her. Thankfully, she'd kept a minimal supply of oxygen in her brain and had stopped him before he'd ruined the intoxicating erotic moment. She was beyond floored.

He was standing here, touching her in what she'd be afraid to admit, was the most intimate touch she'd ever had. Even after so many months with Bobby, he'd never been this close to her. It was a struggle not to swoon.

And when he told her that her skin wasn't a problem, it was all she could do to keep all her inner demons from surfacing. In a matter of two sentences, he'd managed to get past her biggest insecurity, touch. And she'd thought he was going to try and kiss her again...until the blasted phone rang and she came plummeting back to earth.

After the first ring, they stood there, staring. She thought he might actually ignore it completely when the second ring went off. But he let his chin fall slightly, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He took a step back from her. But not before whispering, “We're not through here.” She nodded absently as he stiffly walked to his phone and snatched up the receiver at the end of the third ring with a resounding, “What?”

She took a deep breath, trying to settle herself, and watched him listen. He was looking at her with those intense feral eyes even as he briskly answered, “Yeah, Kurt.”

Something seemed to suddenly catch his attention and she could see his stance shift to all business.

“You got a hit? Where?” His eyebrows came down and he glanced at her, his mouth thinning. “And it's a positive match? What's the margin of error?”

Her curiosity was piqued. She watched his hand come up and rub his face and she started to think she wasn't going to like this phone call.

“When did this all happen?” A pause.

He looked at her again. “And you're sure about this? There's no way it could have slipped through their notice?...No, Kurt. I understand. You're right. I'll handle it. I owe you one. Right.”

He placed the receiver down, holding it there for a moment.

She started to feel a knot grow in her stomach. “What happened?”

He turned his body toward her, staring at her with those feral eyes. But they didn’t hold the same heat as a moment ago. Instead, there was a fierceness in them that was mirrored by the set of his jaw.

“That was one of my contacts. One of the guys I've had lookin' and listenin' around to see if anyone was lookin’.”

She felt panic start to form at her neck, crawling down her spine. “Lookin' for what, Logan?”

“For you.”

XXX

They stood in Storm's -- formerly Xavier's -- office. Thankfully, the only people gathered around now were her, Logan, Storm and Hank.

“There's been a hit on an old BOLO in Jackson,” Logan stated. “Three different complainants. All looking for a teenager, brown hair and eyes, slender, 5'6'', probable mutant. Wanted for armed robbery.”

Well, she hadn't been expecting that.

“I don't understand, what's that have to do with me? I never held anyone up.”

Hank sighed sadly and shook his head. “Often times, my dear, I'm afraid authorities classify mutants using their gifts on humans as force with a deadly weapon. It sounds, and please correct me if I'm wrong, Logan, but it sounds as if the nurses you had an encounter with three years ago put in a complaint with local authorities.”

Logan nodded. He half-stood, half-sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed and one foot slung over the other.

“Appears to be. Armed robbery's different than assault with a deadly weapon though. It involves stolen property. Usually in excess of $1000.” He glanced over at her, as did Hank and Storm.

Oops! Cat's out of the bag... She felt that blasted blush creep up her neck again and she looked down at her shoes, clearing her throat. She didn't notice the amused grin on Logan's face.

“That being the case,” Storm pointedly said, “it means they traced her back to Mississippi, at the very least.”

“They would make the connection and look through medical records for the same blood type Rogue gave at Alcatraz.”

“But I'm not from Jackson. It's three hours away from Meridian.” She was trying to put up something that would stop the flow, stop them from knowing her name.

“They'd easily widen the search, my dear.” Hank looked resigned. “Eventually, they'll find medical records from your previous physician, find your name and address. They'll also know, once they find you left, that you ended up here in New York, since that's where you went originally for the 'cure'.

“They'll have scouts out here looking for you. All it takes is one person to recognize your description,” Logan growled.

“But nobody out here knows my real name,” she said desperately. “No one here knows where I came from, who my parents were, nothing. All my school information is through the online school, at a P.O. Box out of state like the other students...”

“I found out,” Logan said softly. “With the right connections, they will too.” He looked at her and his gaze softened. “It's only a matter of time.”

She felt the panic spread until she started to feel dizzy. She turned and walked a couple of steps, swinging back around and looking around desperately. It was like her whole world was ending.

“I have to leave...” she felt the familiar sting of disappointment. “I have to get out of here, before they get a chance to find me.”

Logan stood from the edge of the desk and crossed over to her.

“Hey.” Her grabbed her face and brought her attention up to him. She hadn't even realized he was wearing gloves. “You're not running. You've worked too hard to make a life for yourself here.” He looked so earnest it made her want to cry. “You're safe here at the mansion. OK?”

She nodded dumbly and he pulled away enough to turn back to the others. “The trick is to cut off the connections. We may not be able to stop them from knowing she spent time in New York, but if we get down to Meridian and get those physician files from her old doctor, If they don't have her name, they have less to go on.”

Hank nodded. “Yes. I think that's the best idea. It should be done as quickly as possible. No telling when they'll run across the correct information. We'll need original paper files as well as back-up digital copies. It's imperative to get into their main database and delete all her history.”

“And her school. They carry immunization records for all the students,” Storm continued.

Logan nodded curtly. “I'll do it. You can drop me off this evening outside of town and I can handle the school and office by morning.”

Rogue's mouth dropped open. This was all going down tonight? “Wait. No...” She looked at him and couldn't believe what came out of her mouth next. “I'm going with you.”

“Rogue...” Storm began.

“The fuck you are,” was Logan's unapologetic response.

She glared daggers at him before turning to Storm. “I grew up there, remember. This is a small town where everyone knows each other. If we have to get in and get out, someone needs to be there who knows their way around. Plus, Logan doesn't know the first thing about computers. How's he going to wipe the database?”

“I'll drag Yella' or Pride with me. But you're staying right the fuck here.” Logan was furious.

“I'm afraid he's right, Rogue.” Hank chimed in. “It really isn't safe for you to leave at this point...”

“I don't care.” This wasn't happening without her. “I'm not sittin’ out on this one. If he thinks...” she pointed towards Logan, “...He can change my mind, he's got another thing comin'.”

She walked off towards the door, turning at the doorway.

“I'll be ready to go in twenty.” She shifted her stare to Logan. “Oh, and Logan? You try takin' off without me and I'll hand you your balls tied up in a nice pink bow.”

She turned and walked out.

XXX

She ran into the locker room, slinging her pack across the floor as she opened her locker. She'd shoved a pair of jeans, socks, underwear, bra, shirt, and boots into her bag along with a few toiletries. They'd be going down in the Blackbird in uniform, seeing as they were planning on breaking into two different buildings tonight. There wouldn't be a pick-up until the following evening -- out-of-state, to ensure anonymity -- so they were going to need a change of clothing.

She ripped her cotton shirt over her head and jerked off her sneakers. Practice had been informal today and she'd been wearing normal workout clothing. She reached into her cubby and pulled out her black tank top, afraid if she moved any slower Logan would actually try and get out of there without her.

By the time she was zipping herself up and tucking her necklace into her suit, she heard his voice bark out from the entrance of the hall.

“Rogue! Get your ass in gear or I'm leaving without you.”

“Jeez!” she spat as she she yanked up on her second boot, locking it in place with two snaps. She snatched up her gloves, gripping them between her teeth, and scooped her pack onto her shoulder. She started to run out while pulling up her hair, trying to pin it back. When she turned the corner, she ran straight into his chest.

He steadied her while giving her a glare. “'Bout fuckin' time.”

He was angry. She could deal with that. She quickly finished securing her hair back and grabbed her gloves from her mouth, placing one under her arm while she started tugging on the other.

“She ready?” she asked in reference to the jet.

He nodded. “Yeah. She's ready. So is everyone else.” He looked down at her. “Why you doin' this, Marie?”

She looked up from her second glove. He was looking at her, trying to figure her out again. She looked back down at her glove and felt anger tinge her words.

“When everything went down back then...” She looked up and she could tell he was following her train of thought. “I let it all happen. I let my father beat me, waited for my mother to save me, waited for someone to give me charity, to take me in. Anything.”

She snapped the last glove into place, let her hands fall to her sides and looked back up at him.

“Everything was happening to me. I had no control. I couldn't do anything. Whether it was because I was just a kid or because I was weak, it doesn't matter. I can't let that happen again. This...” she waved at nothing, “This is me taking back control. I need to go and do this because it's my life. It's my future. I'm not gonna let anyone take that away again.” She looked at him pointedly. “I have too much to lose.”

His jaw tightened and he reached for her face. She couldn't feel his skin through his gloves, but it still made every nerve ending in her face explode with sensation. His large hand traced softly over her neck and a thumb gently ran over her lips. She let out a small breath of air.

“You stay close to me. And do what I tell you. Got it?” His voice was soft but commanding.

She smiled. “Nothing to it, Logan. Already two steps ahead of you.” She turned and made off towards the hanger, him trailing behind.

He chuckled. “ 'Least it's a great view.”

XXX

They touched down by early evening in a field two miles outside of town. After a few last moments of debriefing, packs in hand, Logan and Rogue made their way off the jet into the humid twilight air. They watched as the jet pulled away and disappeared.

He turned to her. “Let's get going.”

They started off at a fast pace, staying off the side of the road to avoid being seen. Twenty or so minutes later the beginnings of town started to show themselves and Rogue started to recognize the old businesses.

She led them to one of the abandoned buildings on the outskirts. They needed to hide out until after dark and find a place to stash their belongings. He carefully ran her through the night’s plan, having her repeat everything back to him to make sure they were on the same page.

She listened dutifully but she was getting distracted by his form in leather. Long ago, in a bar in Laughlin City, she’d had her first sight of Wolverine in jeans so tight it looked as if he had been poured into them by God Himself.  Back then, she'd been a crushing teen. But it was unavoidable, really, what did he expect?

A young woman now, she had an even better appreciation for his physical form, and couldn't help how her pulse quickened every time he sauntered around, looking as delectable as he did. She sighed. Nothing had changed.

“Marie, you listenin'?” She blinked and promptly turned crimson when she realized she'd been staring at his mouth.

“Um, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Hittin’ the school first, then Doc Brown's.”

He smirked at her. One of his devilishly sly smirks that always made her think of a cat toying with his prey. She had been sitting on a crate, legs hanging while they were talking and she shifted uncomfortably. He slowly sauntered over, arms crossed.

When he stood right in front of her, he placed his hands on the crate at either side of her hips and leaned down to within inches of her face. “Where's your mind, darlin'? In the gutter?” He leered at her. He actually leered at her!

She caught her breath and couldn't help the whine of dismay. “The filthy gutter...” she admitted.

And the shit-eating grin that plastered itself across his face was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen.

“Fuckin' fantastic,” he growled and pushed his hips in between her thighs so he was flush against her. One hand wrapped around the back of her neck while the other ran up her stomach, caressing her rib cage. He leaned her back slightly with his body and she grappled at his sides trying to steady herself.

Unfortunately, the leather on leather made it hard for her to secure her fingers so she settled for just wrapping them up around the back of his shoulders. He breathed hot air onto her neck and groaned.

“You smell so fuckin’ good in leather, Marie.”

She smiled through her heaving breaths. “You're not so bad yourself, sugah'.”

He growled at the use of her endearment and pulled her in so close the juncture of her apex pressed right into his hardness. She felt heat rush up her face.

He chuckled. “I've been wondering...” he growled softly, slyly. “...just how far down that blush of yours goes.” The hand that had been cradling her neck moved around to the front of her uniform and slowly, torturously, hooked over the top of the zipper.

She heard the sound of its descent and felt the slow entrance of wet sticky air hit her skin. He stopped the downward movement just above her breasts and sucked in a breath. He'd been looking down at where his hands were unzipping her and she'd been staring at his face, inexplicably turned on by his gaze on her skin.

When he halted the motion, his eyes focused on something. She glanced down and noticed he was staring at the silver necklace she wore, the one he'd given her. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly over the pendant that lay across her skin. She let her head fall back and she arched into his touch, the hot air from his breath searing her skin.

When she brought her head back up, he peered up at her from his position just above her breast and looked more serious than she would have expected. He pulled her a little bit straighter, wrapping the hand he'd been using on her zipper to stroke around her neck. God, he could probably feel her pulse jackhammering in her throat.“You OK with all this?”

She thought at first he meant this rather compromising situation and she almost punched the side of his arm at the idea that he might stop. But the look on his face said he'd meant the bigger this, the them this.

He looked so earnest. They'd been part of each others’ lives for a while now. They'd fallen into a comfortable friendship that provided a desperately needed amount of emotional substance for both of them. They were each others’ constant. The possibility of risking that by exiting the realm of a platonic relationship and entering into a romantic one was something they both needed to consider.

She nodded slowly, bringing up her own hand to trace his bottom lip with her gloved finger. “More than OK,” she whispered.

He let out a burst of air like he'd been holding it and grinned.

“Good.”

He let his head fall forward a bit, groaning to himself. When he looked back up at her he smirked and then pulled her until she was sitting straight, releasing his grip on her and pulling her zipper back up.

She felt thwarted, utterly. He laughed at the expression on her face. “Not thrilled about laying on the brakes either, darlin'. But we can't let ourselves get too carried away or nothin’s gettin' accomplished tonight.”

She pouted. “I think you get a kick at leavin’ me all hot 'n bothered like this, Logan. Twice in one day.”

He groaned and stepped back. “Marie, I guarantee you, I'll be the one who suffers most from this.”

He walked over to the duffel he had crammed into a dark corner and pulled out the handheld flashlight. “Let's head out.”

She hopped off the crate and trailed behind him. His gait was stiff and she could hear him cursing under his breath. She smiled in satisfaction. Leather made for very uncomfortable clothing when worn too tight. Serves him right.

Chapter 11 – Breaking and Entering

She'd gone to a small high school, her class had about sixty kids at the most. It made for a small and relatively unmonitored building, all the easier to break into. Of course Logan never did a job half-assed, so they approached this mission as gravely as they would have if it were a major government facility. They encroached through the back and quietly pushed at a few windows to see if they'd even bothered to lock them. The found a winner on the third try.

It was one of those awning windows -- a small 1- by 4-foot window opening that swung up and out on hinges -- which meant she was going to have to squeeze through and then let Logan in through one of the doors. She turned her back to the wall and squatted down. Using Logan's hand to help keep her from smashing her head on the window’s edge, she slowly worked her way up and under the glass partition. She squeezed her shoulders and chest through carefully. Once that was accomplished, she easily pulled herself up and scooted onto the ledge, pulling one leg in and then the other.

“I'll meet you at the west entrance,” she whispered to him.

He nodded and quietly disappeared. She straightened and turned into the classroom. Mr. Schwartz's bio chem lab. She'd never gotten a chance to take the class. It was reserved for the Juniors and Seniors and she had left at the end of her Sophomore year. She had preregistered, she recalled. Student sentiment was he was a difficult teacher but super funny and cool. She sighed.

She quietly made her way to the classroom door and slowly opened it. She only cracked it while she peered out into the hall, checking to see if they'd installed security cameras since she'd left. When she was satisfied that they still held the same ridiculous trust in society, she quickly jogged down the hall, her boots softly clicking on the tiled floors.

She reached the double doors and pushed the middle bar in to release the latch. It swung open quickly and Logan slipped in and closed the door behind him before she finished her breath. He looked around, assessing the situation as she filled him in.

“They haven't installed any cameras or motion detectors, at least in the hallways. The office and Guidance are down in the south wing.” He nodded and motioned for her to lead the way.

She'd expected the office door to be locked and so had Logan. He pulled out lock picks from his pocket and knelt down to start working at the door. She raised a single eyebrow. He looked up at her.

“What?” It was entertaining for her to watch.

“No claws?” She tried unsuccessfully to hide her grin.

He grunted and winked at her. “Keep those on reserve for special occasions,” he said, all the while working away at the door.

She laughed quietly. “Looking forward to it, sugah.”

He smirked at her and then pushed the door open with a quiet click of the lock.

She moved quickly to the filing cabinets in the back, stopping to hit the power switch on a computer, and started looking for the right drawer. Logan took a few extra moments to make sure nothing was out of place in the hall, carefully looking around.

She found her class's year, relieved it hadn't been moved down to the basement yet with the rest of the graduated classes. She rummaged through the Ds, noticing the numerous red D.O. stickers many of the files had plastered at the top. Dropped Out. Her school never did have the highest graduation rate.

She finally found her name. D’Ancanto, Marie A., a big red sticker plastered next to it. She snatched the entire thing out and plopped it on the desk next to the computer. She pulled the rolling chair up and quickly turned and began typing away at the buzzing computer that had finally booted up.

Kitty was the computer wiz but Rogue could hold her own. It wasn't as if the Meridian Public School Board had extensive hacker protection software on their systems. Logan walked quietly over, watching over her shoulder as she finally triggered into the system. He looked around and noticed the file. He picked it up, growling at what she assumed was the stupid red sticker. He flipped it open and looked it over while she tried to find the right network.

“Jesus Christ, Marie,” he said. “How the hell does someone get a 4.235 GPA?”

She smirked. “AP classes, Logan.”

Her school may have been small, but her parents hadn't wanted that to hold back their precious daughter. She'd taken summer classes at the community college to supplement the meager advanced placement classes the school had to offer.

He gave half a smile. “That's my girl.” She laughed softly.

“Marie A. D’Ancanto...What's the A for?”

Her fingers stopped moving. She took a breath and kept going. “Analyse. It's my grandmother's name.”

Her dead grandmother, thank God. Because she'd been even more conservative than her parents had.

He must have noticed her mood shift because he didn't comment further. “You almost finished?”

“Just...” she clicked into the right system. “One more sec.”

There. Search: D’Ancanto, Marie A. It paused and then the screen changed to a digital record that included guidance and nurses’ notes as well as the most recent activity listing. She grazed over the information and then stopped. Looking at the date of activity she had noticed something.

“What...?”

He'd been looking out into the hallway again. When he heard her question, he quickly made his way over. “What's wrong?”

She clicked on the dated notation. “This file was updated a couple weeks ago.” A small window popped up and she read aloud. “Parent request of all files submitted and request completed.” Oh, fuck.

“Shit. We'll deal with that later. Get it off the system and let's go.”

She clicked back to the student file and completed the job. When the window came up asking if she was sure she wanted to erase all information pertaining to this student, she paused. It felt like she was making that life disappear. She clicked on the OK button. She wasn't that girl anymore.

After a quick power down of the computer, they slipped back out into the hallway, file in hand, and out the double doors. That was the end of Marie Analyse D’Ancanto as far as Meridian High was concerned.

Her old doctor's office wasn't all that much different. It took more time to get in as they did have security cameras and alarms, but Logan made short work of that by gutting the power boxes on the street corner. It shut down all the electricity in the building, leaving only emergency lights and small fridges with medicines and blood samples in them running off a generator. She'd had to run a cable from one of those outlets to the nearest computer.

She'd felt a distraught prickling in her stomach when she found a similar notation in these files as she had in her school files. Why had her parents requested the files? They had wiped their hands clean of her. Why would they want the information now?

It was almost 3 a.m. before they finally made it back to the old building they had chosen as their base of operations. She felt a heavy knot in her stomach and it was making it hard to breathe. There was only going to be one way.

Logan shoved the flashlight back into his sack and turned to her. “We need to get those files.”

She nodded, feeling the knot create a rush of adrenaline at the idea of seeing them.

“I know.”

It was all she could get out. She hopped back up onto the crate from earlier, feeling lightheaded.

He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs softly across her chin and lips.

“You don't have to go,” he whispered. “I'll take care of it.”

His brows came down in thought. “I'll stake the place out until they leave and then break in. You give me the information on where they keep files and I'll be out in ten minutes.”

It was tempting. But she'd come all this way to face her demons. And they were her biggest ones. She couldn't chicken out now.

“No,” she answered. “I'll go too. I need to face them anyways.”

He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “OK. But let's get into some regular clothing and get you some sleep.”

She nodded and hopped down. She pulled out her sack. She walked over to a grouping of crates and used it to shield herself from his gaze while she stripped out of her uniform. She had her jeans, bra, and wrist-length gloves on and was about to pull her long-sleeved soft cotton dark green shirt over her head when a rat scurried across the floor and over her toes.

She wasn't a squealing girl with bugs and rodents by any means, but Mississippi sported some whopper-sized rats and regardless of size, rats always reminded her of the ones she'd woken up to crawling on her when she'd slept behind grocery stores.

She let out a disgusted “Blaaa,” and skidded out from behind the crates, looking wildly around the floor to see where it had gone.

When she looked around, she noticed Logan standing there in his jeans and a long-sleeved red flannel shirt over a white undershirt. His typical look, giant belt buckle and all. She saw his hot gaze land on her and she remembered she hadn't gotten her shirt on yet. She blushed pink from the roots of her hair down to her toes. The only mercy was the decent condition of her bra.

She hadn't thought his look could smolder any more, but it turned downright feral.

“Got my answer.”

It dawned on her he'd meant his queries about where her blush ended and, if possible, her skin colored even more scarlet.

His eyes were down at her stomach. “Mostly, anyways. Jeans get in the way.”

She turned her back to him and quickly pulled the shirt over her head and down over her torso.

“A gentleman would be turning his head right about now, Logan.” She tried to sound annoyed. She failed miserably.

“Good thing I'm no gentleman, darlin'.”

She smiled and turned back to him. “No. You're incorrigible.”

He wrapped her up in one arm and walked her over to a stack of crates. “You like it.”

She poked his ribs. He helped her up and followed behind her. They sat back against the wall, her head curled up against his chest. His arm slung over her shoulders and pulled her in.

“Close your eyes. Get some sleep. We still got a ways to go.”

She sighed. “Yeah. I'll be glad when this is over.”

She let herself drift off to sleep, as his fingers gently combed through her hair.

XXX

They stood just two houses down, waiting for her to build up her nerve. He was patient with her, letting her spend time looking at the cherry tree in her front yard and the porch swing.

Thoughts were whirling madly in her head, making it difficult to concentrate on any given thing. Her whole past, everything she'd thought would be part of her forever sat in front of her. When all was said and done she couldn't be sorry for the way her life had turned out. She wouldn't be.

She had friends who were closer to her now than her parents had ever been. She had teachers and mentors who taught her the meaning of kindness and acceptance. And she had Logan. Which, she thought triumphantly, made everything worth it.

“Come on.”

She walked the last fifty feet to the entrance of her parent's walk, Logan following closely. She reminded herself she couldn't just reach out and open the door, that she didn't live there anymore. She reached up and rang the bell, taking a deep breath.

She heard the familiar sound of footsteps against the wood foyer and then the turning of the lock. She felt terror grip her stomach and shoot up her spine, remembering their faces. Logan's hand came up and rested gently at the base of her back, reassuring her.

The door opened and the distantly familiar face of her father appeared.

“May I help you?”

Her breath exploded from her mouth and she almost laughed. He gazed at her and at Logan with that familiar suspicious look on his face he wore when strangers were in town. He hadn’t even recognized her.

“Dad, it's me.”

She said it matter of factly, like there should be no question that she would be standing in front of him. When she was sixteen, she had called him “Daddy.” She couldn’t stomach the thought of calling him that now.

His head snapped back to her and he looked her over with a confused expression. She watched him note the streaks of platinum in her hair, the gloves she wore in the late spring, early summer and the strange company she kept. His face clouded over and she saw the moment he recognized her.

“What do you want, girl?”

Logan's menacing growl broke out and he stepped forward.

“Might want to show a little hospitality, bub. Bein' she's your kid and all.”

Her father's surprised face at Logan's intimidating tone was quickly replaced by angry self-righteousness.

“I ain't gotta be nothin’, boy. Now you better talk quick about what you’re doin' here or I'm callin' the police.”

She cleared her throat and cut in.

“All I need are my files, Dad. I need them, all of them. When I have them I'll be on my way and you never have to look at me again.”

He stared at her for a moment and then grudgingly opened the door. She gave a private Thank you, God before she took a step inside the door. When Logan tried to follow her father stepped in front of him, blocking his direct path to her. This, she was well aware, would piss him off more than anything else.

“You ain't got any business here.”

Logan brought up a hand, resting it on the frame, and leaned in close to her father's face. In a dangerous voice, he said, “You think I'm gonna leave her alone with a child-beatin' piece of shit like you?” Her father flinched. “You get the fuck out of my way, old man. Or I'll show you how to give a real beatin'. One you ain't gonna walk away from.”

She managed to keep a straight face when her father moved aside after a moment's shocked tension.

“Everything still in the back office?”

He nodded. “Hurry it up and get the hell out.”

Logan growled at him again.

They walked to the office and she bent down to the filing cabinet. She pulled out all her papers: birth certificate, baptism certificate, report cards, social security card...

She looked up at him. “Where's Mama? Church?”

She didn't want to care but she did and she figured he wouldn't answer anyways so there was no harm in asking. When he gave no reply, she looked up.

“Dad?”

He stared scathingly at her. “She passed away a year ago.”

She stood in shock, the papers in her hand scattering to the floor. She felt all the blood drain from her face and and the edges of her vision dulled.

Logan gripped her around the waist, supporting her weight. She stared at his chest, trying to process the words.

She's dead. She's dead. She's dead...

“Jesus,” Logan mumbled.

He pushed her into a chair and squatted in front of her.

“You're white as a ghost. Deep breaths, darlin'. Deep breaths.”

The world was fogging up and she felt like she was falling down a hole.

“Marie, deep breaths,” he repeated.

She blinked and felt things come back into focus.

“That's it,” he whispered, holding her face. When she finally looked up at him he smiled softly. “Take a few deep breaths, baby.”

Her father stood, staring at them. He glared at Logan.

“Just what exactly is the relationship between you two?”

Logan jerked around and pointed at him. “Listen up, bub. You...”

She stood shakily. “It's none of your concern, Dad. My life is no longer your business. Which is why I'm here for my files. You don't need them anymore.”

She squatted down to pick up the dropped papers, hands shaking. She’d have to deal with this later. She couldn’t break down in front of her dad. Logan dropped his hand and clenched his jaw.

“Get to it then.” Her father walked over to the door and leaned against it, obviously waiting for them to finish and leave.

She grabbed the rest of what she found in the filing cabinet, looking around curiously.

“Where are the files from the school and the doctor's office? The ones you got a couple of weeks ago?”

He looked at her like she'd grown another head.

“What are you talkin' about, girl? I ain't got nothin’ else.”

“But...”

She was at a loss for words and looked to Logan who stood straighter, his gaze sharpening.

“The files said you requested my records and they gave them to you.”

Logan inched to the window. Her father's gaze following him suspiciously.

“I ain't asked for nothin' and I ain't got nothin'.”

“Well, then...” she asked, looking down at the files in her hands. “Who...?”

“Shit!” Logan's profanity rang out.

She turned to look at him and she saw him focusing on something outside. She moved to look out the window as well, but he grabbed her by the upper arm and pushed her towards the door.

“There's five unmarked cars out there. It's a fuckin' trap.”

He led her to the back of the house where she noticed men dressed in casual attire and AK-47s sneaking around the lawn.

“Mercenaries,” Logan said tightly.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she ground out. They'd set her up! They'd damn well set her ass up! It had been bait. The files request had been nothing but a lure to get her to one spot where they could close in on her.

The window shattered in the kitchen. Her father's “What in God's name...” was drowned out by the sound of gunfire.

She threw herself onto the floor and scrambled to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Logan sprung his claws and ran at the man climbing in the sliding glass door, burying his metal claws into the man's chest with a roar. Marie scrambled for a plan. They didn't have a car. They didn't have...
“Truck!” she called triumphantly to no one. Her father's old Ford pick-up.

“Logan! Truck! Garage!”

“Go!” he shouted, slicing through another gun of a man entering the house before gutting him.

She scrambled across the floor, passing her shaking and terrified father. She pushed the kitchen door open and fell down the steps with a thump. She scrambled to the side of the truck and climbed in. Keeping her head down, she reached for the visor and snapped it down. Damn! No keys? Didn't he always used to keep them in the damn visor?

Well, there was always old school.

She ripped out the panel under the steering wheel. Reaching into the cab, she snatched up one of the smaller hunting knives her father kept. She shoved her body under the steering wheel and sliced through wires while gunfire echoed through the garage. If she’d had more practice, she wouldn’t need to see what she was cutting and splicing, but it had been a while.

Placing the blade in between her teeth, she crossed the proper wires. Her hands shook from trying to go so fast. Holding two wires together with one hand she used the other to grab the knife from her mouth to cut the last connection. She tossed the knife to the floor and then started sparking them. It took two tries and the engine turned over.

Which was perfect because that's exactly when Logan came tearing into the garage. He pulled her from the floor of the driver's seat and helped her climb in and through to the passenger side, climbing in right after. He jammed the gear shift into reverse and stomped on the gas.

Inertia slammed her body forward. She used her hands to stop her from eating the dash with her face as they crashed through the garage door. The truck carried the crumpled metal all the way to the street. Logan fish-tailed and then took off down the road, leaving it in the street.

She turned her head around and noticed the figures of men running to their cars.

“Missed a few.” She gripped the old leather seat as he took a sharp corner onto the country road.

He laughed humorlessly. “I'll do better next time.”

He winced and she noticed gunshot wounds healing across his chest.

“You're hurt.” She reached over and pulled aside the flannel shirt. Blood had stained through his undershirt.

He grabbed her hand, smiling at her.

“Not a problem, darlin'. You know that.”

They were going at a breakneck speed, trying to put distance in between them and the mercenaries. The road was winding and rose and fell with the land. It made for a nauseating car chase. He shifted gears. When his hand was momentarily tangled in the wires hanging from under the steering wheel, he looked down in confusion. He looked at her with a shocked expression.

“Where the fuck did you learn how to hotwire a car, Marie?”

“Detroit.”

He growled as they flew around a corner. “A lot of shit going on in Motor City.”

She looked behind them again. “Problem for you?”

“No,” he said curtly. “Just fuckin' pissed I didn't think to teach you myself.”

She would have reminded him that she’d met him after she’d been in Detroit, but the car closing in on them took up most of her attention. They were in an old rundown truck and they were being chased by a high-powered SUV. “They're getting closer.”

“Yeah.” His face was set into a fierce expression. “We might have a problem.”

The car jerked again and she gripped the back of the chair, looking around the old truck.

“Gun!”

“What?”

She turned on her knees, throwing her upper body into the cab. “My father hunts. He keeps guns and bullets in the car!”

Logan grunted in relief. “Get 'em loaded, quick.”

She found the rifle and rummaged for the corresponding ammunition. When she found the right box she opened it. He jerked the car around a corner and half of the shells came spilling out. “Shit,” she mumbled. She grabbed a handful and started loading them in.

“Hurry it up, Marie.” His voice was strained.

“Almost...” She was placing the last round in when she heard him swear. The car pitched to the side and suddenly she was weightless. She felt only the first slam of her body into the front of the car before time stopped.

CHAPTER 12 - Ultimatum

The world exploded into colors and sounds and she felt her equilibrium turn upside down. When everything finally stilled, she heard herself let out a pathetic sob of distress.

The car was lying on its passenger side. She was laying on what used to be the passenger window. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe in. Something was trickling down her head. Pieces of glass were still dropping with small tink sounds. The engine was dying down and smoke billowed out from under the crushed hood.

She tried to focus her eyes and saw him. He was half in and half out of the driver’s side, unconscious, his body distorted in sickening ways.

“Logan,” she coughed out desperately, but she couldn't even hear her own voice.

The metal creaked and suddenly Logan's metal-ridden body slipped and flopped down onto her. She expected the impact to hurt but felt nothing. Nothing except her mutation spark to life.

No. she thought hysterically No, no, NO!

His skin rippled and she saw the first veins break out.

She fought hysterically against the invisible force that kept her in place. Please, God. No!

In all her time practicing and improving her skills, this had been the one she couldn't master. This was the one that eluded her. And apparently, the one that was going to kill Logan.

She clenched her eyes and shoved down with her mind as hard as she could. It was like trying to shove a beach ball under the water. The harder she pushed, the harder it fought back to come up above the surface. She held it down anyway, using every ounce of herself to hold it under. She was getting weaker and she knew she'd never be able to hold it. It was another lost cause.

She found herself resorting to her childhood prayers. Holy St Jude, she thought in panic.Apostle and Martyr, great in virtue and rich in miracles...

She'd fought to keep any small part of her faith during those months on the road. She'd struggled and prayed and learned a lifetime of lessons about lost causes.

Faithful intercessor for all who invoke you, I humbly beg you...

She felt the pressure build.  The ball would slip now, the slow rush of his healing would become a downpour and she'd take his life. Her childhood prayer would go unanswered.

I beg you!

She felt her mutation slip her grasp and rise up to the surface, ready to take from Logan. And she was right back on her parent's porch, helpless, broken, and bleeding. She'd be alone having done nothing.

NO! she thought fiercely. Not again!

She punched through her mutation and finally felt it collapse on itself. The pull died away quickly...as did her vision.

XXX

She noticed faces above her. And lights. Bright lights flashing on and off. No, moving. They were moving lights. She was moving. The people had masks on, blood-covered gloves working around her. The lights were too bright. She closed her eyes.

XXX

Voices, strong voices. Whispered. She couldn’t open her eyes. Couldn't make out the words. They were soothing and she let them pull her back into the dark.

XXX

Strong pain, shocking pain. She opened her eyes to see a blue face. Blue? He spoke, but not to her. A bright light in her eyes. He spoke to her but everything was muffled. Another face -- softer, rounder, female. Then another face, his face. His face. He called to her, but she still couldn't hear him. She was so tired. So tired.

XXX

She felt fuzzy. The lights were too bright. She couldn't open her eyes, they were too heavy.

“What's happenin'?” a voice demanded.

Shuffling and moving. Her head hurt.

“...could be coming back into consciousness.”

The muffled voices started to clear.

“Marie?” His voice. Soft, gentle. She let it pull her up.

“Marie, baby? Can you hear me?”

She felt her eyes finally open. At first, it was blurry, she couldn't see anything solid. But slowly, slowly, the fog pulled back some and she could see his face. His beautiful face.

“That's it,” he encouraged. “I'm here. Right here.”

She tried to smile but found it impossible. When she tried to open her mouth to talk, she found herself choking, unable to breathe.

“Hank! Moira!” he called. Why couldn't she breathe? “Marie, hold still, OK. Just...just relax. They have a tube down your throat helping you breathe, baby.”

She heard shuffling and far-off voices. She felt tired again.

“Marie. Don't. Don't go to sleep.” He was pressing his forehead against hers, his breath tickling her cheek. “Turn it on, baby.”

Turn it on?

“Turn your skin back on. Please.” He was pleading.

It made sense now, the heat on her forehead. He was touching her. Touching her! She felt a tear run down her cheek and she shook her head as best she could.

She heard the whine build in his chest. “Turn it on.” And this time he was begging. How bad was she?

She felt his lips trace her tears. “It doesn't matter to me, Marie.” he whispered by her ear. “It never mattered. Whatever you did, undo it. Please.”

He kissed her eyes. “Please,” he choked out. And she did, because he was asking her to.

All she did was think the word ‘pull’ and her mutation jerked violently, desperate for his. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it now that it was on again. The jump shocked her and she clenched her eyes momentarily.

Healing, she said to herself. Just the healing. It burned. Her legs, her back. Her stomach. It burned painfully as her body started to knit itself back together.

He was gripping her hand and wouldn't let go. She was holding on too long. She would hurt him. She clamped back and tried to shut it down, but it was too strong.

“No!” he snarled through heaving breaths. “Keep going.”

No. She shook her head, feeling almost worse as the throbbing in her legs started to build. She didn't want to hurt him. She gagged around the tube, trying to get him to stop. When she was crying too hard, he pulled away.

“Dammit, Marie. Keep going.” He looked angry. She could deal with that, but the throbbing in her legs -- it was becoming agonizing. She heard the heart monitor speed up as she squeezed her eyes shut again.

God, it hurts.

“What the hell's goin' on?” he barked.

“Rogue, can you feel this?”

Hank. She felt a sharp stab in her foot and nodded.

“Good. I need you to listen, Rogue. You were in an accident. Do you remember anything about it?”

She nodded.

“Good. You had paralysis in your legs and your lungs collapsed. Logan's healing probably restored some sensation to your legs just now. Are you in any pain?”

She nodded.

“Then take more, dammit.” Logan demanded.

She shook her head again. She wouldn't hurt him.

“Stop worryin' about hurting me and take the Goddamn hit, Marie.” If he wanted too, he could just force her. But he wouldn’t do that to her, even now, he’d never force her like that.

She felt herself start to cry as she shook her head again.

“Damnit, Marie. Don't,” he growled pathetically. “Just...I can't handle you like this, OK? I can't keep watchin’ this. Let me fix it, baby. Just a little more, OK? We'll take it slow if you just let me make sure you're breathin’ on your own.”

She looked at him and wanted to ask for his promise.

He smiled softly. And it turns out he knew exactly what she'd been thinking.

“I promise.”

XXX

It took Logan two days to finish healing her. He stayed in a chair next to her bed those two nights watching over her. She wondered when he slept. Every time she woke up in the middle of the night -- bones searing in pain or gashes burning madly -- he was there, offering his hand.

She kept him on a strict schedule. No more than three twenty-second pulls each day. Six total. He tried to wheedle and cajole her into taking more. Even tried to bribe her with anything she wanted, which gave her wicked ideas, but she held her ground.

She spent her time in the medlab piecing together the last week. He'd woken up in the truck, sprawled out on top of her unconscious form. He'd frantically lifted himself from her and dragged her broken body out of the car. They'd ended up in a ditch, the car clamped half way around a tree, the SUV that had successfully run them off the road laid top down not too far away. The three men crawling out quickly got three claws into each of their necks.

He'd tried to heal her, with no success. Storm had spoken to her about it while Logan had gone off to shower and get changed. He'd called the mansion on the cell phone Rogue had jammed in her back pocket. The conversation had been short but he was desperate, and the X-men were at least three hours away.

With no other option, he'd called for an ambulance and carried her back up to the main road. They came and he'd been just as shocked that they could touch her too. The ambulance took them to an open field where a helicopter arrived within minutes and carried them to Jackson.

By the time Hank and 'Ro got to the hospital, they had her in surgery. He'd frantically explained to them what had happened, wanting answers, wanting to know how to fix it. Why was her skin not on? How was he going to heal her?

They'd sat in the waiting room for almost twenty hours while surgeons pieced her legs back together, opened up her abdomen and stopped the internal bleeding, and tried to relieve the fluid build up in her spine.

It had been a struggle to get any information out of the doctors. Logan, Hank, and Storm weren't her family and thus had no right to any medical information or visitation. The staff asked where her parents were. 'Ro had mentioned something about Logan excessive profanity during that conversation.

Hank had resorted to invoking his ambassadorial pull to get access to her, and then they'd arranged to pay the entire medical bill to date up front and have her transferred as soon as possible.

Apparently, ASAP meant two more days in Jackson. She had spent that time in the I.C.U., which had driven Logan a bit mad. Their visiting hours had been extremely short and they didn’t want to allow him to sit next to her at night. He'd made several threats to the nurses and had managed to stay next to her, never letting go of her pale naked hand.

They brought her back to the mansion as quickly and gently as possible, but the strain of travel had jarred her sensitive body too much and she'd gone into cardiac arrest. Hank had used the paddles on her three times in her first night back at the mansion.

Thankfully, after that, she began to improve in small increments. She woke up on the fourth day home.

When Bobby and Jubilee went to the scene of the crash, nothing had been left. Her father's truck, the SUV – all gone. The only sign of the disturbance had been the smashed-up bark on a tree.

They'd gone to check on her father, but he'd screamed and cursed them into next week, throwing the two packs at their feet.

The files were gone along with the pick-up, but it hadn't mattered. They'd already had them before Logan and Rogue had even left New York to pick them up. They knew everything about her now. They would come looking for her. It was only a matter of time.

Logan stayed with her when she finally broke down about her mother. He'd crawled onto the medical bed behind her, wrapped her in his arms, and held on tight as she cried silent, hiccuping tears.

It had been a rough moment realizing there would be no reconciliation, no apologies, no regret from her parents. Her mother was gone and her father...indifferent. That part of her life was gone. She let it go. Finally.

Throughout all of the explanations, the discussions concerning the whole nightmare, only one thought had kept a permanent residence at the forefront of her thoughts.

She had stopped the pull.

And she fully intended to do it again.

XXX

She knocked at his door before pushing through. He was freshly out of the shower, rubbing his hair one last time before tossing the towel into the sink.

“Hey.”

He grinned at her and pulled a button down shirt over his sleeveless undershirt. He didn't bother to button it, which was just fine by her.

“How you feelin'?”

It was the third time he'd asked her that today, but she let it slide again.

“Good.” She shrugged. “You know, a bit tired. And hungry. I never realized how much energy you use up with that healing factor. It's left me ravenous.”

He chuckled. “No more commentaries on the my portion sizes, then?”

She shook her head. “Not a one.” He sat down at his desk chair, leaning back and interlocking his fingers together behind his head.

She took a steadying breath. “I wanna try something.”

He looked curiously at her.

“And what would that be, darlin'?”

She walked over to him. As she neared, she could see him grow more serious, more intent.

“What's going on in that head of yours, Marie?

She smirked. “Just one thing.”

She stepped into the space between his feet.

He grinned and wagged his eyebrows. “Your mind in the gutter again?”

She laughed quietly. “Maybe...”

“I'm the right man for the job, then.” He was completely irredeemable. “I can think of few things...”

He stopped short as she pulled off a glove. She pulled the other off and let it fall to the floor.

He looked at her hands and then her face, his interlocking fingers slowly releasing themselves to let his arms come down.

Suddenly, he was quite serious. He placed his hands on her hips. She raised her hands and traced the air around his face.

“I don't want to hurt you.” She could see her fingers shaking.

He let out a shaky breath. “You won't.”

Only touch, she said to herself, pushing down on her mutation. Nothing else.

She let her fingers fall softly on to his skin. His stubble prickled, and his skin was warm. She bit her lip in concentration. She ran a finger over his lips and let out a small huff of air.

His eyes never left her face. She felt her mutation push up and she bit her lip harder as she shoved it back down again. She let out a another huff of air and swallowed. She gently plunged a hand into his sideburns and then into his hair.

He closed his eyes momentarily and she could have sworn he purred as she ran her fingers through his scalp. When they opened back up, they held that fire that always made her stomach burn white hot. She leaned down and softly touched her lips to his.

She wasn't sure at first if she was doing it right. Then she felt his mouth move against hers and she was lost in sensation. She stood, kissing his upturned face, fingers touching every inch of his jawline, and it was the most exciting moment of her life – until her mutation slipped and jerked back on. She felt him rush into her and she pulled back, gasping.

He was breathing hard, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Logan. I'm sorry...” she stammered.

He reached forward and pulled her toward him. He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her down so that she was straddling his hips and her face was just above his.

“Do it again,” he growled.

Then he had his hands in her hair and he was bringing her down to his mouth. She violently pushed down on her mutation just as his lips closed over hers.

Her arousal climbed up into her chest, making it hard to breathe as his mouth moved greedily over hers, alternating between little nipping bites and long breathless kisses. She could hear their breathing, hot and heavy, and feel his hands angling her face to his.

His hands slipped out from her hair and down her back, wrapping around her waist. She arched herself into him and heard his answering growl of satisfaction. She made good use of her position on his lap, reaching up to pull gently on his hair.

She was getting light headed. Her demanding lungs forced her to break the kiss and gasp for breath. He didn't miss an opportunity. One hand came up again to tilt her jaw so he could attack it with his mouth.

She felt his teeth skirt down the tendon in her neck and then sink into the flesh at her collarbone. She hissed through her teeth and let her head fall back in ecstasy.

“Jesus Christ!” Logan groaned.  “You're making me lose my mind.”

She smiled into the air above her. Suddenly he rocked forward and she was lifted. She wrapped herself around him as she felt him stumble to the edge of the bed. Once there, she placed her feet down as he swooped down to kiss her again. He pressed her back so that she was forced to sit and scoot back up the bed, him following her, never stopping the movement of his mouth on hers.

She pushed her hands under his shirt, shoving it off his shoulders. He took ahold of her hips again and dragged her down so that he could position himself half on top of her. Her breath was coming harder now, her grip on her mutation growing shaky.

But he was kissing her and she couldn't stop. When one hand found its way under her shirt, fingers gripping and stroking her hip skin-to-skin, she let out a small cry of arousal. He groaned into her neck and licked at her ear.

And her control vanished. She clenched her eyes. “Wait...” she said breathlessly, desperately. “Logan, I can't...” She felt it snap on.

He pulled away and took his hand off her stomach just in time. He was breathing heavily too. “You OK?”

She nodded and pressed a shaking hand to her eyes. “Just...it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

He grinned at her. “Looked to me like you were doin' pretty great there.”

He shrugged and that wicked look came over his face again.

“We'll have to hold daily training sessions until you get it right.”

She laughed. “You gonna be my instructor?”

He chuckled.

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Chapter 13 – POV, once again

Standing on the porch of Marie's parent's house, Logan felt on edge. He hadn't anticipated them ending up there as part of this mission. It grated on his already-thin nerves. He could smell just how nervous she was, how afraid she was. That strong a smell of terror coming off his Marie had brought every protective instinct he had raging to the surface.

Even worse, the smell of old blood clogged the pores of the porch's concrete floor. It had a rusty metallic odor that no longer carried distinguishing characteristics. Thank God for that, because he was pretty fuckin' sure he knew where it had come from. He felt his fury bring his claws forward until they pierced the skin between his knuckles.

When her stupid fuck of a father had blocked his way in behind Marie, Logan couldn't hold back the threat of bodily harm to get him out of his way. What did the old geezer expect?

And then the whole thing went to hell. They'd been played like a fuckin' piano, suddenly surrounded by gun-wielding professionals-for-hire. He didn't even have time to touch her so she'd have a chance if one of those bullets got her.

But she was his girl, and his girl could hold her own. She knew how to keep it together. She had kept a cool head and managed to come up with an escape plan by the seat of her pants.

After he gutted the fucker who'd laid two good shots in his shoulder, he followed her out to the garage, sneering in disgust when he noticed the stench of piss on the floor, pooling around her father's whimpering figure.

Then, they'd gone off down the winding road at 90 miles an hour -- slow really. Piece-of-shit truck couldn't go any faster. He'd been in the middle of teasing her about his healing when he noticed the wires.

The fuck?

Apparently, his girl knew a lot more than he'd given her credit for. He fully intended to find out if she meant that she'd learned it in Detroit the old fashioned way or through that fuckin' drug-dealer's memories. If the second held true, that meant he'd held on longer than she'd admitted. Which meant the Goddamn sonuvabitch had done more than just hold her up against a fence.

Fuck.

He'd find out even if he had to drag it out of her -- and he probably would have to. Another time.

As it was, they were in the middle of a car-chase and they were cuttin' it kinda close. But she went after the gun in the back and maybe she could use that to defend herself if she had to.

When the SUV expertly ran up on his side and clipped him in the corner, the unstable old truck lost all control. He knew they were gonna crash. And she wasn't wearing a seatbelt...

He reached out to grab her, using the steering wheel to anchor himself. But her body lifted into the air as they flipped, and the last thing he saw was her figure slam up against the dashboard with a sickening crack.

He smelled her when he woke up. Usually, that would have been fodder for his dirty mind, but it was tainted. Her scent was drenched in blood and pain and terror.

He was on top of her unconscious form. He pushed his healing body up to relieve her of his weight. She had a gash down the side of her forehead all the way down to her ear. Her hair was matted in dirt and water and strands stuck to her face. He could hardly hear her breath.

“Jesus. No,” he groaned.

He reached for her face. Remembering he still wore his gloves, he frantically pulled them off and threaded his fingers half-way into her hairline.

Nothing happened.

He stared, waiting, frozen in horror.

“No,” he choked out. “Marie?”

He heard her pulse get weaker. He tightened his grip, pressing his palm hard against her cheek. Take it! his mind screamed.

Nothing.

At the hospital, waiting through the surgery was the most agonizing day of his life. It was endless. He'd never felt the rush of fear so strong for so long. It was suffocating. He would have passed out if he hadn't been turning every other minute expecting her to come out and need his healing touch.

Had this been what Scott had felt after Alkali Lake? No wonder he'd never recovered.

When they finally got her back to the mansion after days of profanity-laced arguments with the medical staff at Her Lady of the Fuckin' Fields Hospital in Jackson, he thought she might have a chance.

If she didn't wake up soon, he was going to have a fuckin' infarction.

”She's in V-tach again!” Moira called.

“Get the paddles,” Hank commanded.

“Marie!”

He shifted up to the top of the bed, near her head, so they could work.

“Jesus. Don't do this again!”

He wanted to scream at her. “Fight!” he commanded through gritted teeth.“You fuckin' fight! You hear me?”

“Logan, move.” Hank said, pushing him aside, ready with the paddles.

Her face was white, drained of all color. Her jaw was set in an awkward angle to accommodate the breathing tube. As they worked over her, her head lolled back and forth, lifeless. The monitor's slow beep pitched to a high solid whine.

“Clear!”

Her body jumped into the air.

A week later she was standing in his room as he came out of the shower, toweling his hair. It was surreal.

How had his life gone from a horrifying nightmare to a wonderful dream in such a short period of time?

She touched him. She decided it was what she wanted and she just went up and touched him. He'd never felt contact that soft and that amazing.

She struggled with it. He could feel the small tremble in her hands from the effort. When it slipped, he wouldn't let her back off in fear. She didn't need to be afraid. He wouldn't allow that.

God, her touch. It was like a benediction, absolving him of all his sins. All the horrible things he had done vanished with her simple touch.

He thought he might lose his mind.

When he felt her hands trembling again, straining with the effort to control her mutation, he knew it was too much. He had to stop. She needed to stop.

But that wasn't going to be it. Fuck, no.

XXX

By the next afternoon, they couldn’t even make it to her room before he went at her again.

Her back hit her door with a rather satisfying thump.

Her scent was driving him fucking mad. Two hours grappling with her after sending Sparky and Pride on their merry way, and he was sure he’d die from the flames of desire that were licking up his legs.

Then he had to wait for group training!

It was probably the most useless practice he’d ever had. Remy had actually managed to down him.

Twice.

The dickhead was so damn proud of himself he was practically wetting his pants.

And all Logan could do was think about wanting to see that enticing blush of hers creep down her chest and stomach again. He had a great imagination, but there were some things you just had to experience for yourself.

She smiled and spoke softly to him the entire way upstairs. The musky raw lingerings of sweat were making his mouth water. When she reached for her door handle, smiling at one of his comments about how good she looked, he lost it.

She looked so goddamn delicious he just had to taste her. He grabbed her, spun her around, gently grabbed the sides of her face and then not-so-gently kissed her while pushing her back up against her door.

The little mewl of surprise that came out of her only served to heat up his blood more. He pulled back just long enough to switch the angle of his face and dove back in.

Thank God she could turn it off because even if she couldn’t, he didn’t think it would have made him stop. He’d gladly spend two days in a coma to be able to feel the softness of her lips, the creaminess of her skin, and the sweetness of her breath intermingling with his own.

He could feel her hands grasping his shirt with a white knuckled grip. She pulled down on his shirt to bring him closer, and he happily complied. He reached down, lifting her up by the ass as her legs wrapped around him.

Her legs tightened on his hips as he crushed himself to her. Her face was level with his, making it easier to deepen his kisses. He used one hand to hold her face while the other supported her fabulous rear end. Their movements made small thumping sounds against her door.

He heard the Cajun come around the corner and stop dead in his tracks. If Marie wouldn’t have died of embarrassment he’d have given the little shit a show, teach him to stop smelling so Goddamn aroused around his girl.

He gave him a few seconds to take a good long look though, he thought as he tilted her flushed face up to bite her neck. He didn’t break the skin, but she’d walk around for a couple of days showing his mark. She let out a small gasp and ground her hips hard into his. He growled in response, making sure the Peeping Tom could hear it too.

It was almost comical how the guy was still gawking. Was he actually going to stand there thinking he’d get a full-on show?

Marie’s own heightened olfactory system would soon pick up on the distraction, so he finally reached down and grabbed her door handle, shoving it open and carrying her through it. He gave it a violent kick backwards to make one more point. The door slammed shut. Mine.

He buried his hand back in her hair and leaned down to set her on the bed, his body hovering over hers. She sat up just enough to reach him as he settled down over her. He tried to shift more to the side so she wouldn’t have to carry his substantial weight but she growled softly in frustration and pulled him closer.

He chuckled and complied, settling into the space between her legs, using his forearms to keep from crushing her small frame. She ran a hand through his sideburns. It would have been fucking blazing hot except for the fact that he could see and feel the gentle tremble that started to take hold of her.

He gentled his kisses, using his hands to tenderly stroke her face. This was going to take some time, he realized. It was going to drive him up the fucking wall of insanity, but he could handle it. He kissed a wet path down her jaw line and nibbled at her neck as her frantic breathing settled down to a slower pace.

Yeah he nodded to himself. She had a hard time concentrating on both her mutation and her arousal at the same time. She’d have to strengthen that control gradually, like a muscle, before she’d be able to fully enjoy him touching her like this. Like all practice, if she took on too much too fast, she wouldn’t be able to handle it and she’d slip. He wasn’t willing to risk her pulling back, afraid she’d hurt him. He groaned and buried his face into the crook of her neck.

“This is going to fuckin’ kill me.”

She smiled softly. “Ah feel like Ah’m gonna catch on fire.”

He clenched his eyes and tried to clamp down on the spike of arousal hearing that accent so thick with lust caused.

“I might already be burning,” he groaned miserably.

She laughed.

Which made it all worth it.

XXX

He spent time training her, being with her. Every morning in the practice room, working to perfect her movements in hand-to-hand combat. Every evening, teaching her ways he could touch her. Pushing her control to the limit. Each day, it grew a little stronger and she could go a little longer.

She wanted to touch him though. When she was in charge, touching him, her control was stable. She knew what to expect, and could manage it. So while he couldn’t get past taking her shirt off, she had already gotten him stripped naked and screaming her name while she used her mouth on him.

He wasn’t complaining, but he was getting a little jealous. Why did she get to have all the damn fun?

XXX

He was heaving for air, trying to see through the cloud of pure electricity running up his spine and into his head.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he ground out. His hand tangled in the mass of brown and platinum hair moving over him. He clenched his eyes and looked at the ceiling.

“Don’t stop,” he panted.

She’d asked if he would meet her in the library when she finished studying. He’d walked around and eventually found her in the back corner of the room. She didn’t have a single textbook.

Somehow, he’d ended up in the desk chair, pants around his ankles and her mouth sucking him off.

“Holy shit.” He was trying not to be loud. They were in the library for fuck’s sake. But he was having trouble breathing and where the fuck had she learned to do that? No good southern girl should be able to use her mouth like that.

He took one hand from her hair and gripped the arm of the wooden chair, feeling his orgasm crawling down his spine. He felt a growl slowly build in his chest. So close. He clenched his teeth,and sat back, letting his head fall back.

“Jesus.” He felt the edges of his control wear thin. Almost.

Then his little vixen reached up and ran her nails down the back of his thighs and he knew he was gonna blow.

“Marie...baby, move. I’m gonna...” He tried to push her back, but she gripped tighter and took him as far into her mouth as she could.

He exploded.

White light shot through him as his hips bucked and he came into her hot mouth. He roared through gritted teeth.

XXX

She’d managed to get him off a handful of times before he started getting pissed. This was bullshit. She was going to have to let him touch her more.

It was maddeningly erotic and frustrating at the same time. The more aroused she became, the harder time she had with control. And while he was slowly building her up to a much anticipated climax of sensation, it was taking too long. He wanted to have her screaming his name before the fucking month was out.

He'd never been so damn horny in his life. The cold showers he took every night didn't help one fucking bit. He started forming a plan.

Chapter 14 -The Gloves come Off

She'd never known such power.

She held it in the palm of her hands and she'd never even realized it was there. Waiting. Growing. Learning. Reaching. Taking.

She stepped into the hallway for the first time that day without gloves. She stood just outside her door, wanting to retreat. Coward. She took a deep breath and pushed forward.

It was cold. That's one of the first things she noticed. Four years of walking around wrapped up like a mummy had accustomed her body to high temperatures. Having been born and bred in the humidity of Mississippi hadn't helped either. Now, as she walked into the dining hall for breakfast, she could feel the air conditioning hit her bare arms and she was weirded out by the sensation of goosebumps.

It took a few moments for the first students and adults to die down into silence. Slowly, the silence fell over each table as their attention focused on her -- on her bare skin.

She'd been pretty private about starting to control the pull completely. Up until today, she'd still worn her layers and her gloves. Logan's nightly sessions had been practice, seductive practice, but just practice.

She woke up each morning with a splitting headache from the strain and exertion. Exhaustion claimed her early each night before the students even went to sleep. Logan would lie with her as she let the fatigue whisk her away into slumber.

She hadn't been able to walk around casually, afraid of an accidental brush when she wasn’t concentrating. She had to concentrate to control the pull, physically force it off. She was trying to re-train her skin. It should have been the opposite. It should have been a strain to turn it on, not the other way around. Slowly, she worked to creep to her goal.

Today.

The others didn't know this. Didn't know just how hard she'd been working. So it wasn't too surprising when they stared at her in shock, wondering why she was so uncovered in their presence. It was time they found out.

In jeans and a soft cotton t-shirt, she felt naked. Exposed. And she was suddenly unsure of herself. She took a small step back, ready to retreat.

His gentle hand twined in with hers. Warmth. There were a few surprised gasps and whispers. Some even pointed. She looked down to see his fingers interlacing with her own bare hand. She slowly brought her eyes up to see him there. She smiled softly at him. How did he always know when she needed him the most?

His finger brushed over her knuckles and squeezed gently. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Happy Birthday, Marie.”

XXX

She slammed face first into the wall, her arm twisted behind her. Damn. He’d gotten her again. She twisted down and under, unwinding her arm so he wouldn’t pull it out of its socket. She didn’t count on his knee coming up into her back and wrenching her arm up harder.

“Go again,” Logan growled as he released her and let her stand. “Start from the same position, but this time, don’t second guess yourself when you come up from the leg swipe. You lost focus and it was over from there.”

She was panting and sweating. Usually, not a bad combination with Logan. But geez, he was kicking her ass today. She nodded, wiping some of the dampness from her brow.

She wore only a pair of track pants and a cut-off shirt. He’d ordered her to start coming to morning sessions wearing clothing that left a lot of skin exposed. He’d been dead serious. She, on the other hand, wasn’t as on board with the idea.

She had good control when she wasn’t occupied with other thoughts or concerns. He knew that. Trying to figure out how to keep her mutation turned off while trying not to get the shit beat out of her was pretty complicated. More complicated than even the intimacies they shared each day.

On top of everything else, she was so sexually frustrated that she found herself in a fairly foul mood lately. She wasn’t learning to hold off her mutation fast enough. She wanted to be touched by Logan without having to spend half her energy keeping the pull switched off.

She felt like she might actually implode.

With all the frustration and painful headaches she was already feeling trying to be intimate with him, now he was insisting that she also do it while they trained. She’d never been under so much strain in her life.

He came at her and she weaved down and around, trying to accomplish another combination without tripping over her own feet when he grabbed her bare shoulder. She failed. In two seconds, she found herself face down on the mat, arm once again pulled up behind her. Damn, damn, damn!

She was so angry with herself that she felt tears of frustration start to sting her eyes.

He let go and sighed. “Again, Marie.”

She clamped down on the tears and pushed to a standing position. “I’m tryin’.” She got back into position and started with him again.

She didn’t last any longer this time around, or the next. With an embarrassing flop, she landed on her back. She felt the tears leak out the sides of her eyes.

She stood up and shoved loose platinum hair away from her face. He getting into position again, but she’d had enough. She walked past him and straight to the door.

“Where the hell do ya think you’re goin’?” He looked almost shocked.

She was too angry for words. She almost reached the hallway before he grabbed her hand and pulled her around.

“Marie, what the hell?”

She shouldn’t be surprised at his confusion. In the four years she’d been at the mansion, training with him and the others, she’d never once left in the middle of practice. She’d never given up. But then she hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to have what she could have now.

She had to be patient, and she didn’t want to be anymore.

“Ah’m tired of gettin’ the shit beat out of me.” She pulled her hand away from him and turned to leave.

Suddenly he grabbed her around the waist and shoved her up against the wall. She shoved hard at his chest, pissed that she couldn’t go hide out and pout over her frustration.

“Logan! I’m sick of ending up face first on the mat.”

He growled and grabbed at her pushing hands, pinning them above her head. He pressed his body into her, holding her in place. Even now, in the midst of being truly pissed off, she could appreciate his hard muscles. The man was indescribably sexy.

He pushed up against her, and growled. “You think ‘cause I’m in love with you that I’m gonna go easy on you in here?”

She stopped breathing.

He took a deep breath and went on. “Nothing’s changed in this practice room. I expect you to work your ass off even when it fuckin’ hurts, even when you’re so damn exhausted you can barely keep your eyes open.”

He gentled his words. “Even when you're fighting to keep control of your mutation at the same time and it slows you down.” He let one of his hands fall to her face. “I know it’s a strain. But you can’t give up. You have to learn to do both.”

The hand he released fell to her side in utter defeat. “I don’t know if I can.” She wanted to cry again. “Everything’s going so slow. Just trying to let you touch me is so exhausting...”

“Why do you think I’m waitin’ with you?” he asked. “You think I don’t see you strugglin’? You have any idea what it’s like to want to touch you as much as I do?”

He cupped her cheek and kissed her softly, biting gently on her lip. When he pulled away she could feel his hot breath move to her neck and ear as he softly growled.

“You wanted it to be touch. So I’m not takin’ you until I know you’re going to feel every last touch, every last caress...” She felt his hardness when he pressed his groin into her belly.

“...Every last thrust.” She clenched her eyes when she felt his teeth once again bite into the curve of her neck, marking her.

When he lifted his head and looked back at her, his eyes blazed into hers. She cleared her throat. “You have more patience than I do, then.”

He smiled. “That’s because I have my eye on the ball.”

She returned his smile slyly. “And because you’re in love with me.”

He quirked a grin. “Yeah. That too.” He kissed her again.

XXX

Class One – Passives: Mutations wherein the individual’s body has physically altered in some way -- internally or externally -- that renders the individual more capable of surviving hostile environments.

Class Two – Defensives: Mutations that provide protection to an individual’s physical or mental well-being through physical or internal manifestations.

Class Three – Aggressives: Mutations that permit physical changes in the surrounding environment by way of either intentional or unintentional action.

Class Four – Strategics: Mutations that allow individuals to effectively change their surrounding environment with differentiation in levels and forms of use.

Class Five – Intrusives: Mutations that can control, with obsessive characteristics, their physical and mental surroundings.

Marie stared at the large screen at the front of the mansion’s conference room and shifted uncomfortably.

Storm had requested that Dr. MacTaggert give a two hour lecture to the entire team. Although a geneticist by training, Moira had a broader understanding of mutant affairs. Storm decided that they all needed to become better acquainted with the science underlying mutations.

Marie sat between Logan and Kitty, but the large oval table made it difficult to hide any embarrassment she might be feeling at the moment. This was unnerving for her.

“...As you may already know...” Moira continued, daintily pushing at her glasses with her fingers, “...the scientific community has broken up the different classifications of mutations. There are several reasons for this. First, genetically, the mutant gene is very volatile. It manifests in countless ways. Sometimes the resulting mutation can be so insignificant a person may go their entire lives without realizing they carry the gene. At other times it may create such a strong physical manifestation as to be startling.” She smiled kindly at Hank. “This in no way affects the humanity of the individual, only appearances.”

She cleared her throat. “Second, as regards any treatment or special requirements an individual may need, it's important to be able to classify severity in each case.” She went on before anyone could protest. “Before you jump to conclusions, no, this is not an attempt to declare or even insinuate that mutation is a disease, but rather a physical difference that might require assistance in dealing with its outcomes emotionally and physically.”

Jubilee bristled. “That sure sounds like a disease. Why would we need special assistance? It's not a learning disability, Moira.”

The doctor turned to her, her eyes kind. “No. Jubilation, it's not. But that doesn't mean that there are not individuals out there who need modifications to access community or educational environments.”

“They give modifications to Special Ed. students though,” Bobby groused.

Moira sighed patiently. “Yes, but it's no different than a left-handed student needing a different set of scissors in elementary school. Or a different desk in high school. These things that make us different, make us individuals....unique, they don't always work out so well in a society not prepared for it.”

Hank nodded. “That's what the firm Moira works for is trying to accomplish. They want to better educate society.”

Moira continued. “There are tests available now, I'm sure you've heard, that allow us to tell us not only if a person carries the mutant gene, but also their classification. There have been so many advances recent advances in genomics.”

She switched the screen and came to a picture of the a gene readout for a 'patient Q'. “This individual carries the mutant gene.” She pointed to the mutation. “From the test you see, we can determine that this mutation is a Class Three.”

She clicked to the next slide. “While we haven't yet been able to create or delete the gene, we are learning more and more every day. For example, this slide shows a close up...there...of an individual with varying creases. This manifests itself ninety-eight percent of the time as multiple mutations.”

“Huh?” Kitty asked.

Hank stepped in. “An example would be Logan, Kitty. He regenerates and is a feral.”

Marie sat, mouth gaping slightly. She was glued to the screen and Moira's every word. “So...can you tell what a mutation will be?”

Moira sighed. “Not as of yet. And probably, we'll never be able to tell. The possibilities are limitless. But...” she turned with a smile. “We can better educate those most in need. Parents, for example, dealing with the shock and confusion that occurs when a child manifests.”

Angel quietly asked, “Could they not test earlier, so that parents can prepare?”

Moira tensed. “We don't really want that. It's a slippery slope.”

“Why not?” Jubes.

“Well, it brings up a number of ethical dilemmas.” She pushed at her glasses again. “If we start offering the tests to parents of young children, we have no way to control what happens. What if the parents don't want a child with the mutant genes? We'd see an increase in child abandonment.”

Jubes turned red. “Better they don't remember the jerks than find out when it’s too late.”

Marie grimaced sympathetically. Jubes’s foster parents hadn't taken her mutation all that much better than her parents had. She hadn't been physically assaulted, but she had found herself sleeping in the mall parking lot the next day.

“I understand...” Moira replied, “...that there are different situations for every individual. But think of it this way. If we offer the test to young children, what's to stop parents from requesting the test through amniocentesis? If they have negative feelings towards a mutant child, we run the risk of elective abortions. We don't want that.”

Jubes grumbled and sank into her chair, arms crossed petulantly.

“How's the classification system work without all the gene shit?”

Marie looked to her side. She would never have expected Logan to ask any questions, but he was looking at the screen with deep concentration and interest. “Those are some fancy-ass words,” he continued. “But what's it mean to a random guy walking on the street? What's it mean to us?”

When Marie looked around, she discovered just about everyone in the room was as surprised as she was.

“I'm so glad you asked that, Logan.” Moira smiled brightly. “As teachers and former students of a school specifically for the education of children with mutations, it would serve us well to be able to accurately describe the science behind the whole mutant gene. As I said earlier, parents who want the best for their children will want to be better educated.”

Storm chimed in. “We find ourselves on missions all the time to go and find the runaways and cast-outs. They're just children and young adults. They're confused and frightened. We need to be able to tell them what's going on with their bodies and what they can expect.”

“With a list like that?” Logan pointed to the screen which was now set back to the Class definitions. “What the hell are you gonna tell a kid who doesn't understand jack to begin with? Can anyone here look at that and put it laymen's terms?”

Moira smiled. “I'll be happy to go through them with you.”

“Please, do.” Storm responded.

Moira cleared her throat. “Well...” She looked at the screen. “The first thing we all have to understand is that these are general guidelines. We've found that there is a lot of gray area. But we'll get to that shortly. Class One or Passive individuals are pretty self-explanatory. Their mutations manifest in ways they in no way control. A man, for example, who has reptilian skin, making him much more resistant to high temperatures. A useful mutation in many cases, but otherwise completely benign in nature. In short, it doesn't do anything else.” She looked around to see if everyone understood.

“Class Twos or Defensives are more active mutation. Healers, Regenerators, Teleporters, Shapeshifters...all these mutations fall under this category.”

“So wait...” Bobby interjected. “Logan's a Class Two?” He smiled a bit too much for Marie’s taste.

“Well...no,” Moira stumbled. “This is where we start to encounter those gray areas. Logan carries multiple mutations. In such cases, the individual is classified under the most potent manifestation.”

“Oh.” Bobby’s happiness deflated and he shrugged.

Marie peeked over at Logan and noticed him smirking. Was there no end to the surprises?

Moira continued. “Defensives have active mutations but they are...well...defensive in nature. Changing one's shape, teleporting from one location to another, healing quickly...they all serve as a defense mechanism. They are also the largest group of classification -- the most commonly occurring mutation type.”

“Class Threes are known as Aggressives. These mutations require action and are offensive in nature. Back to Bobby's question, Logan's healing, his heightened senses, they are Class Two manifestations. But his claws, and feral instincts are Class Three. Wolverine is a hunter, pure and simple.”

Rogue looked over at him. He looked smug! Of course, anyone being described in those words had reason to be proud. For goodness sakes, those words made her shiver in erotic ways. She tried to take a deep breath but couldn't help the overwhelming arousal that was taking hold.

She noticed his head snap over in her direction. She refused to look at him, bringing her hand up to shield her crimsoning face from his view. Damnit. She just knew he was smellin' that all over her.

“Something wrong, Rogue?”

She jerked her head around to look at Moira, who looked a bit concerned. “Huh?”

“You’re all flushed. You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

Oh, God. “Um, no. Just, it’s a bit stuffy in here, don’t you think?” She would not look at Logan. She would not look at Logan. She would not look...

Logan’s low voice rumbled suggestively at her side. “You do look...hot, darlin’.” She couldn’t help it -- her eyes snapped to his, and the smoldering look in his hazel eyes bumped her temperature up another notch.

“The thermostat’s set to 72.” Bobby helpfully contributed.

“Then take it down to 68,” she snapped.

She heard Logan let out a snort. Damn. The man had the nerve to look downright pleased with himself. She’d get him back for this.

CHAPTER 15 - The Power of Persuasion

“Let’s get back to Moira’s presentation, shall we?” Hank looked a little awkward as he stammered through the question.

Marie sighed and tried to concentrate past the embarrassment of Logan trying to kill her through mortification. She gave Logan her best death glare, which he promptly grinned at, and turned back to Moira. “I agree.”

Moira smiled past her obvious confusion and began again. “Yes. Now. Let’s move on to Class Fours and Fives.” Marie tried not to notice how Logan’s attention was caught with that simple statement. “While they are technically two separate Classes, in a handful of cases, the line is blurred between a high Class Four and a low Class Five.”

Marie felt uneasy at the doctor’s words. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Moira answered. “That in some cases, we don’t see a very definite difference between the two genetically. With Classes One, Two, and Three, we see very clear differences; but not so much with the top two Classes. The closer one is to a level Five, the less differences we see.”

She clicked on a slide with two pictures of a gene on display. “Bobby and Rogue have been kind enough to let us use their own blood samples for this. It gives us a clearer visual on how close they can be. On the left, is Bobby’s X-gene. On the right, Rogue’s.”

She felt herself sinking down into her chair. Why had she agreed to this?

“You’ll notice the similarities between the two. But...” She switched to the next slide where three X-genes were on display. “...Notice the similarities between Rogue’s, in the middle, and the individual’s on the far right.” She pointed with her laser pen. “They are actually much closer in appearance....” She said, pointing to the left. “...than that of Rogue’s and  Bobby’s.”

“The one on the right is...?” Jube’s began.

“A Class Five,” Moira stated matter-of-fact.

Silence fell over the room. Rogue stared at the screen in abject horror. They looked exactly the same.

“Are you saying...” Storm said quietly. “...that Rogue is that close to a Class Five?”

“Even closer than I originally thought.” Moira clicked on the next screen. “You may recognize this.” A photo of various blots in straight lines came up. “It’s a digitized autoradiogram. In many cases, they are used to match blood types.” She smiled. “This is where it gets super-interesting. This one here is Rogue’s. And this one...” click “...is of that same Class Five.” The slide carried animation and the two images fell one over the other...forming one almost exact match. “There is almost no discernible difference!” She looked like she might jump for joy. “Isn’t that so interesting?”

Marie felt the blood drain from her face. She felt lightheaded and nauseated. This was just too much. She looked to Logan for his reaction. He was staring at the picture with an intensity she wasn’t used to. What was he thinking? The room was utterly silent.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t... She felt her knees jerk and she found herself standing and pushing her chair aside.

She was out the conference room door before she had time to think what those shocked looks across everyone’s faces meant. She slammed the door behind her and reached out to steady herself against the opposite wall in the hallway.  She felt the world turning upside down and couldn’t get a full breath of air.

She heard the door open and Logan came rushing out, closing the door behind him when he noticed her still there. She didn’t give him time to speak.

“Did you see that?” she asked desperately. “There was, like, no difference. None.” Her arm flailed towards the door. “What the hell does that mean, Logan?” She felt like the world was coming down on her.

He looked worried and that scared her more than she thought possible. “I dunno,” She shook her head at the craziness of it all.

“Am I, what, that close to being insane? Like Phoenix?”

No, he said fiercely. He walked to her and took her face in his hands. “You’re not crazy, Marie.”

She couldn’t handle the idea that this...mutation...would just up and take over, making her say things, do things, want things it shouldn’t have. “My fingers...they itch when I want a mutation. I get all breathless and excited and I really really want mutations. I’ve said it before. it’s like an addiction. I just have to have it!” Could it be a madness taking over?

“You’re not a Class Five.” He looked so convinced, it was painful. “Hank...Moira...those fuckers that gave you the ‘cure’. They’ve all said the same thing. You are a Four.”

“But I can’t control it,” she said hysterically. “I still can’t do two things at once with it.”

He shook his head. “You have controlled it. You’re controlling it right now. Yeah. It’s difficult for you, but you do control it.”

“What if I can’t even control it again?” Was she starting to sound crazy? Was it the first step in going crazy?

“The voices...” she went on. “When I take too much. That could be a sign...”

“Stop!” He looked angry. “You are not crazy.  You have never been crazy.  You are not going to lose control and you are not going to let this beat you down. You got me?”

“I can’t even let you touch me, Logan. “We...” she said, motioning between them “...can’t even have sex! All I want is to make love with you and I can’t even do that!”

He stared at her, hard. She started thinking he was considering the fact that she might actually be crazy when he took her hand and hauled her down the hallway. She was so stunned and confused that she let him pull her all the way upstairs and to her room.

“Logan, what...” She stopped dead in her tracks when he pulled his flannel over his head. “Umm...”

She couldn’t get herself to speak. His arms, so beautifully sculpted, had that effect on her. When he pulled the white undershirt off and threw it to the floor, she lost most of her ability for coherent thought too.

“Why are you stripping?” Not that she minded.

He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled at his boot. He looked up at her and in his most matter-of-fact voice declared, “Because I’ve had just about enough of you lettin’ this fear of your skin get in the way of me being inside of you.”

She about swallowed her tongue. “Ah beg your pardon?”

He smiled a little too suggestively for her taste. “You said you wanted to have sex, didn’t you?

“Well, yeah. But...” She was gonna let his sheer audacity go for now. “My skin... this isn’t a game, Logan. I really can’t control it for that long or for those...activities.”

He finished pulling off his second boot and stood. “Bullshit.”

She couldn't help her mouth dropping open. “You controlled it in the accident. You didn’t have a choice then, yeah, but you still controlled it...you turned it off and it stayed off. While you were unconcious and fuckin’ dyin’. There was no effort then. Once you passed out from blood loss, your mutation didn’t go back to fuckin’ default mode. Which means ‘on’ isn’t natural for you.”

She stood there, staring in shock. “So, what? You think I do this on purpose?” She might just need to kick his ass. Right now.

“No.” That was too simple of an answer. “But I think after that first time, with Cody, you became so afraid of hurting people, that you never managed to learn the difference between on and off.”

Ass Kicking. Now. “Are you saying I’m a coward?”

His lips pushed together and he almost smiled. “Pretty much.”

The overwhelming anger tinged her cheeks a hot red. “And you think that I’m going to touch you now?” She’d touch him all right. Touch the heel of her boot straight into his forehead.

“No.” His short answers started to grate on her nerves. “I’m going to touch you.”

She stepped back in panic. “Don’t.”

“See, the way I figure it -- given enough incentive, enough risk, you’ll figure out how to keep it off.” He looked smug. “I’ve been sittin’ here for weeks tryin’ to figure out how to make you cum for me without having half your thoughts on that damn mutation.”

She felt her flush deepen. Damn it. She wasn’t supposed to react like this at every single insinuation that tumbled out of his talented mouth.

“I can smell how much you want me. I could smell it in that conference room.” He smiled wickedly. “You were so wet for me even Hank got a good whiff.”

Aw, damn!

“So this is how it’s gonna work, Marie.” He walked right up to her, closing her in against the wall, both hands on either side of her head. She was trying not to shake in arousal. Damn it, the whole animalistic dominance thing worked for him too much.

“I’m gonna take you. Right here, right now...and you’re going to turn off that mutation if you don’t want to hurt me.”

She scowled. “And what if I say no?”

He shrugged. “Then it’s no. And we keep waitin’. And waitin’...and waitin’. Longer you wait, the harder it’s gonna get.” he wagged his brows at the double entendre. “You make the choice.”

Well, this wasn’t fair. The way his voice lowered into an almost growl and he leaned into her until he was half an inch away was just not playing fair. And then he had the absolute gall to reach down and unhook his belt. Her eyes followed the movement of his hands and she felt a fresh burst of  searing heat shoot up her back.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and smiled hotly. “That’s what I thought.”

Bastard. She’d get him back for this too. Later.

CHAPTER 16 – A great Point of View

He'd been pretty hooked on the discussion. He wasn't one to usually care all that much about science or any other crap like that. But Moira was getting into some deep shit that actually mattered to him more than he'd ever admit.

When Moira came up from D.C. at Storm's request, they'd all been somewhat intrigued by the topic of discussion.  He, however, sat through most of the presentation hanging on every word that came out of Moira's mouth, trying to assess the physical danger to Marie.

When the Popsicle had commented about his own class, Logan hadn't found it necessary to reply. He was the one, after all, with Marie in his bed at night. The little pencil-dick reeked so much of jealousy lately, it was starting to annoy him.

Shouldn't a let her go, he thought smugly. The boy had cared too much about skin contact and not enough about Marie.  She'd never speak badly of Bobby, put he'd seen how much it had cost her -- struggling through the rejection, watching Bobby flinch away from her touch.

That little fuck cost Marie a good couple months of thinking she'd never have a real relationship. Shit, she'd even gone and taken the cure thinking it would make her desirable.

She had no fucking clue just how desirable she was. Even without the ability to touch.

Logan had been pretty damn lucky in the whole scheme of things. He'd started up with her not worried about the skin-to-skin thing.  He had a damn good imagination. He could find all sorts of ways to make her feel touchable without actually touching her.

Yet somehow he knew that it would have been hard to convince Marie of that.  If they hadn’t moved forward before the accident, he knew she would be struggling to accept that he could ever have wanted her before he could touch her.  

And speaking of touching Marie...when Moira's comment about him being a hunter made Marie's scent shift enticingly, his attention had suddenly been drawn away. He could see the blush behind her hand, and he had wanted to bite into her right then and there. He had decided to tease her a little more, and he had been rewarded with a new burst of arousal coming off her. He hadn’t been able to help his grin of self-satisfaction.

He also couldn't keep Hank from noticing. The other feral's reaction had been immediate. The Wolverine inside of Logan would have charged at the competition if he hadn't been aware of the uncomfortable way Hank shifted.

When Moira had moved on, leaving them all slack-jawed at just how close Marie was to a Class Five, he had heard her heart rate go into overdrive, had scented the panic coming off of her skin in waves before she had bolted from the room.  

He understood...It had freaked her out, the idea that an inch more power would catapult her over to a Class Five. Jesus, it freaked him out. How was she going to master the sheer amount of power she harbored? How could she do it and stay out of those researchers’ fucking hands?

Then she started going on about being crazy and he was just going to have to put an end to that nonsense real quick. Because she wanted to make love to him. It's all she wanted. And the pressure of all these weeks planning and trying to figure out how to touch her came crashing down. He had to have her... now.

“You make the choice.”

He unhooked his belt, watching her eyes grow wider and her flush grow deeper as she followed the movement of his hands.  He took a deep inhale, her luscious scent washing over him.  Fuck, did she smell good.

“That's what I thought.”

The really great thing about screwing with Marie was how Goddamn well her body would respond. He could say and suggest the most vulgar of things and while her southern upbringing would balk, her body screamed in agreement.

It made for magnificently full-bodied flushes.

She looked like she might have some sort of smart-ass remark but she held it back. And he couldn't help but smirk.

“I'm gonna kiss you now, Marie.” She let out a shaky breath. “And then I'm gonna take those clothes off of you and I'm gonna make you scream my name.”

She actually sucked in a little too much air there and coughed lightly. He leaned in the final inch and kissed her hard, bruising her lips. When he pulled back, noting with satisfaction how swollen her lips had become, he said, “I'm gonna make you feel so good you won't have time to worry about that mutation of yours.”

The hand he'd used to unhook his belt came up and wrapped around the side of her face. She swallowed.

“It's off,” he stated firmly.

She nodded agreement.

“Now just forget about it.”

“Logan...” she began.

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Just forget about it. It's off, you won't hurt me.”

He kissed her again, using his hands to anchor her face in place. She tasted so damn good he found himself ruthlessly devouring her beautiful lips. When he pulled away, breathing heavily, he could feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. God, he was going have her. The very thought made him so hard he wondered if he'd even be able to last long enough for her.

She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but he didn't mind. She let out a shaky breath and that sweet tongue of hers dipped out of her mouth and ran lightly across her bottom lip. He growled and swooped down again.

This time, he wrapped one arm arm around her lower back and pulled her in close, crushing her breasts and stomach into his hard chest. She mewled into his mouth and he felt his self-restraint waver again. If she kept making those kind of sounds, he was going to fucking lose it.

Her hands ran through his hair and wrapped around his neck, anchoring herself to him. He ran a hand up her back under her shirt and gloried in the feel of her soft skin. He had to see that skin, taste it.

He pulled his mouth away from hers and in one quick swoop reached down to her shirt hem and began tugging it up. She complied readily, raising her arms above her head as he finished pulling it off her.  He noticed how damn sexy it was, the way her long hair came spilling back down her back. He'd always preferred long hair. It not only supplied a fantastic handhold during rough sex but it had a more sensual quality as well. The ends brushed against the edges of her bra and made his imagination run wild.

He shook his head and got back to business. He'd wanted to taste that skin. He knelt down so that his face was even with flat contours of her stomach. Gripping her hips with his hands, he brought his mouth down to her skin and gently kissed her navel.

She sucked in a breath and swallowed with difficulty. “Logan...” She ran fingers through his hair.

“Just focus on my mouth, Marie. Focus on how good it feels, nothin' else.”

He breathed hot air onto her stomach and gently kissed her again. He could feel her stomach muscles contracting and smiled. Slowly, he worked his way sideways until he got to her hip. Her jeans were low-rise, allowing an enticing view of the curve of her hips. Ever so gently, he dragged his teeth across one side.

She let out a small cry of ecstasy and let her head fall back.

“That's what I want to hear,” he encouraged her, and then promptly rewarded her with another drag of his teeth across her ribcage, just under her bra-line. She let out another small cry and he growled in satisfaction.

“That's my girl.”

He worked his way across her stomach and down under her navel, pulling the button of her jeans open so he could kiss lower. When the sound of the zipper caught her attention, he cut off her worried statement with another hot scrape of his teeth against her hip.

She growled. “You're doin' that on purpose.” Her hands were clenching in his hair in a way that shot fire straight to his loins.

He chuckled. “Just tryin' to keep your attention, is all.”

With that he hooked his fingers over the edges of her jeans on either side and pulled them down slowly. He hooked her panties as well and brought them down together to just above her center. She closed her eyes and cried out as he kissed the sensitive skin, dragging his teeth over it teasingly.

Finally, he pulled them down, the scent of her wet core hitting him like sledgehammer. His animal side came rearing up and he bit her hip hard enough to leave a mark. Instead of being alarmed by his behavior, she actually arched into him, one hand tightening in his hair and the other reaching up above her head to grab the door frame.

He yanked her shoes off and finished pulling off her jeans, panties and socks. Tossing them to the side, he looked up to see her breathing hard and staring at him with wanton lust. He could barely contain himself.

He reached over to her chair and dragged it to sit just beside her. Running a hand up her leg, he hooked her knee and lifted her leg, placing it on the chair so she was open for him. She gave a small self-conscious laugh. “Logan, you've got me on display here...”

He growled. “And you're fuckin' hot. So hot and wet for me.” He kissed up her thigh until he met up with soft curls.

He looked up again to see her biting her lower lip and staring avidly at him.

“Like what you see, darlin'?”

She nodded and he finally got to see that blush travel down her neck, chest and down her stomach, fading back into the paleness of her lower abdomen. “So Goddamn amazing,” he muttered before using one hand to rub at her thigh while the other opened up her soft folds. He tasted her wetness...and - Fuck! - did she taste good. Better than he ever imagined she would.

He ran his tongue along her cleft and felt the muscle of her thigh contract. She gripped the doorframe above her more firmly for support and let out a huge breath. “Oh, God...Logan.”

He nuzzled at her, licked, suckled. She was whimpering for him within half a minute. The hand she'd been running through his hair was now gripping his shoulder desperately. “Logan...” She ground out. “I don't know...”

“Don't,” he commanded, momentarily pulling away. “Nothin’ but this, Marie.” He punctuated his statement by dipping a finger into her core and taking her most sensitive spot into his mouth.

Her hips jerked and she almost collapsed. Her head fell back and she let out the most primal feminine groan he'd ever heard. It was animalistic and untamed and he just about lost his mind.

He had to have her. The animal in him was tearing to get at her. He wanted to lift her up against the wall and plunge into her wetness with a savagery that would most likely terrify her.

He stood quickly and managed to hold himself back by mere force of will. She was panting and flushed and smelled so Goddamn ready for him, he once again worried he'd come too fast.

She still wore her bra, and the black lace showed only hints of her creamy skin though it. He pushed her up against the wall, burying his face into the crook of her neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin there.

She reached around and dragged her fingers down his back, pushing at the jeans that still clung around his waist. He nibbled down her shoulder, pulling the straps of her bra down her shoulders as he went.

Her creamy skin was soft and flushed and it was so enticing.

“You're so fuckin' beautiful, Marie.”

It brought the most amazingly brilliant smile to her face. His chest tightened and he had to stop and stare at just how much it made her light up. He told himself he'd have to figure out as many ways to make her smile like that as humanly possible. He'd do anything to see that smile on her.

He pushed a strand of platinum hair behind her ear and then ran his hand down to brush against her neck. “I love you.”

And damn. He didn't think it possible for that smile to get any more beautiful.

She reached up on her toes and kissed him tenderly. When she pulled away, she said “I love you.”

This was going to kill him. The very fucking idea that he could have something like this, that he could lose something like this...fuck.

The panic that took hold of him was heart-stopping. “This is it, you got me? This is me and you. No going back.” He was going for a confident statement, but even he heard the pleading question in his tone.

She nodded and kissed him again. This time, though, her kiss was hard and possessive. She pulled away roughly and kissed up his cheek to his ear. And then the little temptress whispered a fierce, Mine into his ear before claiming him with a bite just below his ear.

He was gone. He took her mouth with a growl. Grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around, he walked her back to the bed.

God, with just the simplest of words, she'd driven him up the edge of madness. They fell to her bed in a tangle of limbs, he trying to finish pulling off her bra, and she trying to get his pants off.

Eventually, they were both devoid of all clothing and he was grabbing at her hips and legs, running his rough palms over them as he devoured her mouth. She was moaning and whimpering all at the same time.

He hooked one of her knees around his hip and ground his groin into her belly, already starting the rhythm that would soon lead them to completion.

Her hands were running over his ass and it was driving him mad. He was gonna blow before he even got inside of her. He reached down and grabbed her wrists, pulling them up and twining his fingers into hers just above her head. He pulled away from her lips to growl “mine” and then attacked her neck and shoulder again.

Her shaky gasps were getting louder as her hips rocked against him. Her other leg hooked around his hips too, and he could feel how wet for him she was.

He untangled one of his hands from her desperate grip, using it to position himself at her entrance.

She'd never done this before. He'd need to show her how to move, how to feel every fucking thrust.

He pulled her leg up a little higher on his hip. “Up here...” he told her gently through their heaving breaths. “Keep your hips up like this so you get the right angle.” She nodded. “Keep your eyes on me, Marie. Don't close them. I want to see your eyes, ok?”

She smiled. “As long as you don't close yours.” He laughed hoarsely and kissed her once more.

He pulled away to look at her and pushed himself in. She was fantastically tight. Her hot wetness pulled him in and made him catch his breath.

He read the initial shock in her eyes. But it was followed with a look of dawning surprise as he shifted and the sensation caught her, making her breath catch and her eyes darken with lust.  

“Logan...”

He brought his head down to rest forehead to forehead with her as he began to gently rock in and out of of her. Her words caught in her throat and all she could do was let out little gasps of air.

“Marie...” he breathed almost painfully, her tightness making white hot heat run from his groin up his spine.

He gripped the hand above her head roughly, using his free hand to pull her knee higher, getting as deep as he could. Thrust after thrust, he felt her walls growing tighter and tighter. She started raising her hips to meet his every movement and he thought he might explode from the pressure.

She was making the most amazingly submissive noises and he was eating every last one up. He punctuated each grind of his hips with grunts and growls, watching her bite her lower lip in ecstasy.

Her face flushed and she let out a cry as he felt her contract madly around him, her hand clenching his fiercely. Her orgasm rippled through her body and he couldn't hold it any longer. He buried his face into her neck and let out a long groan as he came so hard he nearly blacked out.

His arm gave out and he let his body sag down onto her. She was still breathing hard, trying to speak through her gasps. “Wow...”

He nodded, his face still buried in her neck. “Mmhmm.”

She laughed softly. “It was good for you too, then?”

He nodded vigorously, though never taking his face from her neck. “Yup,” came his muffled reply. He hadn’t managed to make her scream his name, but he had no intention of giving up on that fun little goal.

She ran her hand through his hair. And no, that wasn’t a purr coming from the general area of her neck.

“I can’t believe I did it. I controlled it...” she breathed.

He grinned and mumbled, “Knew you could.”

They laid there for a while, just breathing each other in. When he found the energy to roll off her and pull her in against his body, her face buried in his chest, he smelled a sudden burst of embarrassment come off of her.

He was suddenly worried he’d hurt her somehow. “What’s the matter?”

She shook her head and groaned. “You can smell me that much?”

He smiled. He could see how someone who didn’t have his level of senses could be a bit shocked. “It’s a pretty damn good smell, Marie. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But Hank?” She groaned again. “Oh, God.”

He chuckled.  Poor guy. He had all those feral mutations that allowed him to pick up on so many things, but his gentler nature made it almost a hindrance. He didn't depend on those senses as much as Logan did. They didn't complement his personality like they did Logan's.

“He ain’t gonna say two words about it, Marie. It’s just as embarrassing to him. Don’t worry about it.”

She grumbled. “Still. Now I’m gonna be wondering if every time I get all worked up, he’s gonna know.”

He smiled. “Not gonna be able to help it, darlin’.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. And then...

“Shit.”

His chest rumbled with laughter. Pillow talk with Marie was going to be fun.

CHAPTER 17 – Musings

She hadn't expected to spend the rest of the day coupling with Logan, that was for sure. In all of her very well-spent time thinking about Logan naked and sweating above her, she'd never really taken into account his...regenerative skills.

As he moved her over him in the most erotic pattern, she couldn't help but laugh a little inwardly. Why hadn't she thought of that? It seemed almost dense of her. She didn't dwell too much, though. After all, she knew now.

Boy, howdy...did she know.

They hadn't been laying there for more than fifteen minutes after their first time together, whispering and touching softly, before he'd pressed his straining erection into her hip. She'd been surprised and delighted all at the same time.

She couldn't believe how easy it was to forget about her mutation. It was ridiculously easy with his talented mouth moving all over her. And wasn't that the key right there, distraction. Well, not so much distraction as prioritizing.

She'd spent so much time concentrating on stopping her mutation that she hadn't realized that was the trigger right there. Since Cody, she'd never stopped thinking about it.

Until the accident, when all she could think of was not being the victim anymore. Not being the one to take Logan's life because she was weak. Praying and begging for the mutation to stop on its own hadn't been the trick, it had been her pushing it aside and focusing on the refusal to be on the receiving end of everything bad.

So now she did the same. She shoved her mutation aside in favor of what she really wanted. Touch. Logan's touch. Logan's fantastically, erotically, arousing touch. She was at a loss for more adjectives. His mouth was making her forget how to think.

He didn't say much, he never did. That being said, she was discovering just how vocal he actually was. Instead of words, he used animalistic grunts and groans. The few things he did say to her were singular words emphasized by his touches or...thrusts.

After nipping and biting at her shoulders and chest for endlessly blissful moments, he'd lifted himself to his knees, and lifted her up as well.  Brushing her hair aside, he'd attacked her neck and shoulders while hooking his hands behind her knees and lifting against him.

He scooted to the edge of the bed where he sat and placed her over him. She moaned as she sank down on his erection. Her knees could reach the bed and she raised and lowered herself against him, his hands helping her with the rhythm as he growled approvingly.

She anchored herself by wrapping one arm around his neck. The different position sent waves of erotic sensation through her body.

“Oh, God.”

She could hardly breathe.  Every time she came down on him, he would grunt and thrust up.

He growled deep in his chest, never taking his eyes of her.

“Ride me, Marie.” More grunts and groaning. “Fuck, yes. So good.”

It was a slow burn, much slower than the first time, but she'd argue it was actually hotter. She remembered the feeling of the 'cure' coursing through her veins, scorching her, and thought this feeling inside her right now might actually be hotter. She'd be nothing but ashes by the end of this.

She let her head fall back and arched back, the change in angle causing a spike of heat to shoot from her center straight up her back. He must have noticed her hitched breathing, because the hand he'd been using on her hip wrapped around her lower back to support her as he leaned down to nip and suck at her breasts.

After a few seconds and some deep grinding action, he brought her back up.

“Marie,” he growled, pushing a hand up the side of her face and into her hair.  He wound his fingers in her brown and platinum locks, pulling them back gently so her neck was exposed. He sank his teeth into her skin again, growling madly.

“Mine,” he breathed fiercely as he pulled away to stare into her eyes.

She could see the animal lurking behind his hot gaze. His eyes, usually a beautiful hazel, were now so dilated in arousal they were pitch black.

He was possessive, aggressive, controlling, dominating... all the things that would usually piss off any woman in her right mind. But something about the way he was all those things while still being tender and considerate made him the most arousing man she'd ever seen. She wanted to submit to him.

“Yours,” she breathed.

He growled through bared teeth and she saw the effect her submission had on him. He pulled her closer, using his arm to anchor her lower half to his and began a harder, faster rhythm. She let her head fall to his shoulder, arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck. He'd taken control of the pace and she moved to try and keep up with him.

White hot heat started to pull at her where their bodies met over and over. She couldn't help the high-pitched cries she was letting out into his shoulder at almost every thrust, her eyes clenched tight against the sensation.

He grunted and hissed.

“Make those noises for me, Marie.”

She could hardly stand the pressure. It was making her hips jerk erratically against his forceful hands. He let her hips move on their own momentarily so she could find the rhythm that would bring her to the edge.

“That's it, baby,” he encouraged her. She was grinding herself furiously against him, her face still buried in his shoulder.

“Uh. Yeah, darlin’. Work yourself on me.” She could hear the strain in his voice.

It was there, just out of her reach. She pushed against him over and over. She could hear her own cry of frustration at wanting that last inch.

He growled into her ear. “Come for me, Marie.” He must have known she was so close, must have known what she needed. His words seared her skin and she flew apart. Her body jerked against him as she convulsed around him.  She let out mewls of ecstasy and rode the wave as it crested.

“Logan!” she cried. “Oh, God.”

His name was loud and clear, even muffled against his skin.  He roared through clenched teeth and bucked into her furiously, finding his own release. She held on as he filled her, his movements forceful and erratic. It extended her own orgasm a little longer and she sucked in a shuddering breath against his shoulder.

He finally stilled, wrapping his arms around her back. She lifted her head and they looked at each other, both of them still struggling for breath.

His hair was wildly ruffled from her fingers running through it, some of it sticking to his damp forehead. He looked at her intensely, a bead of sweat running down his neck.  He gripped the side of her face and smiled.

“Finally got to hear you scream my name.”

She laughed through heaving breaths. She could feel tendrils of platinum and brown hair sticking to her own forehead and cheek. The rapidly cooling dampness on her neck and chest made her shiver. Her thighs trembled from the exertion.

“With workouts like these, I'm not gonna have to go to the gym ever again,” she sighed.

He breathed hot air into her ear.

“You have no fuckin' idea how hot you look right now. All flushed and thoroughly satisfied.” He rumbled a laugh. “All you ever have to do is say the word and I'll be happy to work out with you.”

He bit her lobe. “Over and over and over.” He punctuated each word with a slow thrust of his hips.

Her eyes widened as she felt him grow hard inside of her.

“Logan, really. Already?”

He growled enticingly in her ear. She breathed out a puff of disbelief. He flipped her onto her back and began thrusting again, growling the whole time.

That regeneration trick of his...? That was a pretty nifty gift.

XXX

She had never expected to be a part of one of those couples who sat there mooning over each other once they’d finally become intimate. She was much too private for that -- and Logan much too full of himself. He’d rather have his throat slit then let anyone see him being all “pansy-ass”.

But then again, she also never expected to spend so much time holed up in her or Logan’s room.  The sheer amount of time they spent getting it on or just chatting -- it was amazing. Everything he wouldn’t say or do in public, he reserved for her in private.

She found it amusing. He never made huge declarations, it wasn’t his style. But he wasn’t shy about touching her in public, either. She figured that was his way of stating his intentions...and warnings.

She had always known he was an intensely physical person.  She shivered at the thought. In public, he’d place his hand on her possessively; especially, she noticed with a smidge of annoyance, around other males.

Her rational mind argued he was going to have to lay off the alpha-male act and let her be friends with Remy and Hank without him getting all growly. But at the same time, her memories of how he thought made that a bit too much to ask of him.

His feral instincts made him protective of what he considered his. And...well, she’d kind of already accepted that as fact in the heat of the moment. But really, what did he expect? The things one said in the throes of a particularly good orgasm were just not fair game.

Their schedule went on as always. Now twenty, she’d managed to catch up on classes. She was starting her third year of college and while she no longer had to take a full load plus extra credits, she was still bombarded with readings and proofs. She’d chosen engineering as a major and she regretted it daily. The sheer amount of math was mind-numbing.

She was working on a graph one evening, trying to create a flight envelope diagram, when things changed.

He’d been laying on his bed reading while she worked on the floor, spreading out her books and charts. A small curl of smoke rose up from the cigar he’d been smoking.  He always kept the window open, so the late fall breeze carried in wonderful woodsy smells. The combination of the two scents was rich and soothing.

She’d sat up from her hunched over position after working some numbers and stretched. She lifted her arms above her head as she pulled her muscles loose. She let out a little groan from the stiffness and sighed.

Hands flopping back down, she opened her eyes to see him watching her. She smiled shyly and went back to work. No thinking about sex with Logan. No thinking about sex with Logan. No thinking about...

“I was thinkin’ I want you to move your stuff in.”

She looked up at him, shocked.

“Huh?”

He grunted. “Permanently.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Move in? Here?”

He nodded.

She sat straighter. “With you?” She was at a loss. “Really?”

She could hear aggravation creeping into his voice. “Why not? We already sleep in the same bed almost every night, whether it’s in your room or mine.”

That was true enough. “Yeah, but...you like your space and I thought...”

“Thought what?” he growled. “You think I was kiddin’ when I told you it’s you and me from now on?”

It was rhetorical. But she still felt the need to answer it.

“No. It’s just....” She fumbled for words. “You get all growly and grumpy and you like to come here on your own. What happens when you don’t have a room to go to and be all pissy in anymore?”

He quirked a grin. “Guess I’ll have to find a way to work it off.”

She frowned. “I’m serious, Logan.”

He growled. “So am I, Marie. I’ll figure it out. If I need time alone, I’ll take a fuckin’ walk or somethin’.”

She stared at him, trying to figure him out. “Why?”

He balked. “‘Cause I fuckin’ love you, that’s why. Jesus, Marie. I want you with me. I want you in my bed, in my room. I want it to be our bed. Our room.”

Hmm. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he looked shocked. Was he expecting more of an argument?

“Yup.” She smiled and leaned back to her work. “But this weekend...I have to get this turned in by Friday.”

He blinked before settling.  He grunted and nodded, sitting back against his headboard and starting to read again.

She couldn’t help the stupid grin that plastered itself across her face.

CHAPTER 18 - Voices

When she was in Detroit, four months after her parents had turned their backs on her, four months after she'd lost pretty much any hope of ever having human contact again, she'd struggled to keep herself warm, let alone fed. It hadn't occurred to her yet that there were more demons in this world than she would have ever thought possible.

She'd learned from that disgusting trucker not to hitchhike with men that looked at her that way. She'd learned from those awful nurses never to expect kindness from those who were supposed to be the kindest. She'd been about to learn a whole lot more.

She'd tried to get work. Tried to be a waitress, a cleaning lady, anything. But one thing was made real clear, real fast. If anyone so much as suspected why she wore gloves, the game was up. It made for very short employment. Not that it mattered, no one paid minimum wage when you couldn't even provide a full name with SSN. Was no one honest?

She'd found shelter in an old GM warehouse. There were at least fifteen to twenty kids there on any given night, mostly around her age, some older...some younger. And for every dead-eyed teen there were two salivating drug-pushers.

The others stayed close for warmth, for survival. She'd stayed on the fringes, fingers and lips blue despite the layers and layers of clothing she wore. They'd used old metal barrels to make fires to warm themselves. The heat would mostly disappear before you could even feel it touch you. But anything was better than nothing.

Except for Trip. She didn't think anything could be worse than him. Everyone knew his name. He was one of the neighborhood drug-dealers. He didn't sell on the street himself, just distributed to his people and collected the profits. Normally, you'd never see that guy, the one running the drugs. But Trip didn't let his people deal with the problems. He liked doing it himself. If there was a debt, he went after it, a sneer across his face. She'd turned her head a number of times when he'd beaten up a few of the regular users staying at the warehouse. He'd beat them senseless and then, switchblade to a throat, would threaten to kill them if they didn't get the money by the next day.

Two of the girls she knew whored themselves out those nights for the first time to come up with the money to pay him.

She vowed that when she got out of there, she'd never have to see or think of him again.

They'd made the meeting with a suspected illegal 'cure' dealer, one pushing fake cures on desperate mutants too scared to come out publicly with their 'disease'. The bastard had been selling antifreeze in needles. A few mutants had already died, others ending up in hospitals from the poisonous doses they'd injected straight into their bloodstream.

He'd tried to run and Logan had eviscerated him with a satisfied growl when they'd cornered him by the river and he'd sneered disgusting anti-mutant sentiments. Figures, she thought sardonically. Everything was always about hate.

They walked back to the bike in silence. She was not amused. In street gear, they'd attempted to get information from him without bringing the Xavier name to the table. It hadn't worked, obviously.

“You know,” she said angrily. “You didn't have to kill him.” He looked at her and snorted. She couldn't hold her tongue. “You could have just taken off a limb or something, Logan. You can't gut everyone who smells like that. You're going to have to get over it sooner or later.”

His eyebrows flew up as he pulled his riding gloves on, not to protect him in case of an accident, but to keep his hands warm. It was November in New York after all. “You smelled that?”

She nodded, eyebrows raised. “Hard to miss. Even without the roaming eyes and nasty smile on his face.” Ick. He'd looked at her like Big Sam had. It made her want to throw up in her mouth.

“Little shit was a drug pusher, Marie. Didn't need more reason than that. The fact that he was practically coming in his pants with what was probably the first clean female he's seen in months was just an added bonus.”

She rolled her tongue around in her mouth. “Yeah.” She turned away to pull on her own gloves when she noticed the bag behind the tree near where they had met up with the guy. “Logan.” He looked up from pulling out her helmet. “What's that?”

His eyes narrowed in on where she'd pointed and he made a noise of acknowledgment that he saw it too. He placed the helmet on the seat and walked over to overgrown tree and bushes and yanked out the sack. Its top must not have been closed correctly because its contents spilled out.

Logan's eyebrows shot up. Marie pressed her lips together.

“Motherload,” Logan said.

Dozens of small packages splayed out on the ground, along with a number of needles and larger bags filled with white chunks. There were cartridges like the ones she'd used on Magneto and a couple of bags with pills. It was...a lot of drugs.

Marie pulled her phone out from her back pocket and flipped it open. “This is going to be a really big hassle.” She scrolled down to 'Ro's number and hit dial, bringing the ringing line up to her ear. “Get comfortable, Sugah. We may be here awhile.”

He grunted and nudged the bag with the tip of his boot. It couldn't have been a pleasant smell for him, she thought. All those chemicals must be playing havoc on his senses. She heard the phone click.

“Rogue? Is everything alright?”

Marie smiled. The gentle leader was always worried, even when there was no need.

“Yeah, we're fine. Listen. We ran into some complications. The dealer? He's uhh, not going to be a problem anymore.”

“Anymore?” was her response. It took a few seconds before she answered again. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Marie said nodding. “There's more. We found his pack on the way back to the bike. It's full of drugs. We're gonna need to get rid of it.”

She could imagine 'Ro on the other end, nodding quietly. “I understand. Let me get you in contact with a friend of the Professor’s. He should be able to help you. I'll have him give this number a call in a few minutes.”

Logan grumbled from his chosen spot leaning against a tree. “Can't we just throw it in the river or something?” Marie smiled at him. No need for speakerphone with Logan around.

She mouthed the word 'no.' and he grunted, thoroughly peeved. She got back to the conversation. “Right. We'll wait here. Bye.” She closed her phone and shoved it in her pocket.

She walked over to him, smiling. “You'd poison all those poor fish?”

He snorted. “It's the fuckin' Hudson River, Marie. You stick your foot in and you just might grow a second head. This shit ain't gonna do a bit of difference.”

She raised her brows and tilted her head as a quick acquiescence to his statement. “You know 'Ro. She'll want it properly disposed of.”

He grinned. She figured out he was up to something a second too late. He reached out and snatched her belt loop in his finger, pulling her up against him. “Got some time, then,” he growled and bent down to nuzzle her neck.

She sighed at his warm breath. “I was gettin' a little cold there.”

“I can fix that,” was his reply. He wrapped a hand around her back and dragged her up against him. Heat. Glorious heat. God, he was an oven. She laughed.

“How are you always so warm?”

He grinned and bit at her collar bone, gently moving the chain of her necklace out of the way. “'Cause I'm always thinkin' about bein' inside you,” he rumbled.

His words made her shiver. “That must make for a lot of uncomfortable moments,” she breathed.

“You have no idea.” He left her shoulder to capture her mouth in a searing kiss.

The sound of her phone going off in her back pocket broke them apart. Logan cursed the bad timing and she couldn't help but smile.

With a shaky hand, she opened her phone and pressed it to her ear. “Yes?”

“Is this Rogue?”

“This is she.”

“This is Detective Rogers from NYPD narcotics. Ororo called me.”

“Yes.”

“I received information that you have come upon some illegal narcotics.”

“Sure have. Would like to get rid of it, too. Fast.”

“I understand. Can I have the location?”

Marie related their location and noticed Logan grumbling, shifting himself uncomfortably. She grinned.

“Got it,” Det. Rogers said. “Can I get a brief description of what you've found? You don't need to know exactly, but it will help me know what to bring if you can describe it for me.”

“It looks like at least 40 or 50 bindles, good size, maybe eightballs. But in crap paper, so it's probably moist from the ground. Couple hundred count of X, too.” She bent down to nudge one of the cartridges aside to get a better look at the Crystal. “Some Meth, but none of it Ice. And....looks like some cure cartridges laced with antifreeze.”

There was long pause on the line. Finally he said, “You know your shit.”

She felt a sudden rush of dread take over. She swallowed hard, trying to figure out why she was so nervous. “Yeah, well...lucky for you.”

He laughed. “Guess so. Okay, give us thirty minutes.” The line went dead.

She sighed and stood up, clapping the phone shut with aggravation and shoving it in her back pocket. Why was she on edge? She looked up to see Logan staring at her, eyes feral and furious.

“You got his fuckin' memories.”

The feeling of dread sank down to utter panic.

Oh, shit.

She bit her lip. What was she going to say? He knew the truth. He wasn't stupid. He knew how her mutation worked. When she didn't have control, back then, if she touched someone without warning, she got their thoughts, their emotions, everything on the surface. It took a good long pull to get memories, mannerisms, and knowledge. He knew the only way she could have known everything there was to know about the drugs was if she'd gotten the memories from somewhere, from someone. Trip.

She didn't want to think about this, much less talk about it. “It happened. It's over.”

He shoved off the tree and walked right up to her face. “How much?”

She let out a breath. “Logan, when I say it's over, it's over.” She didn't want to think about this.

“How much of that fuckin' prick did you get?” He was growling at her.

She set her jaw, staring him straight in the eyes. Fine. “All of it.”

He hadn't expected that. He flinched back violently, his eyes filling with horror. “Marie...”

She felt the anger well up. “Don't.” She said furiously. “It's over.”

He ran his hands through his hair and clenched his eyes in frustration. He tried to hold back a roar of fury and failed. She waited for him to calm down some.

“You finished?” She asked.

He was breathing hard, trying to control himself. He walked back up to her, his eyes pleading. “Tell me.”

“Why do you want to know?” She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to know all the nasty details.

“Because.” He ground out. “I want to know how bad he hurt you. I want to know what happened, Marie. It doesn't change how I feel about you. But I want to fuckin' know.” He took a deep breath. “Did he rape you?” She could see the trembling in his hands. It really cost him to ask.

She could hardly take a breath. “He sure as hell tried.”

”Bitch!” he screamed into her ear. “You think you're some kinda prissy princess?” He shoved her harder into the fence. The snapped edges cut painfully into her skin. She struggled under his grasp. “You're nothin' but a two-bit whore, you fuckin' slut!”  He hit the back of her head, hard. She nearly blacked out.

When her vision cleared, Trip was struggling behind her. “Stop...” she said weakly, trying to keep from vomiting. “Stop!” She screamed.

“Shut the fuck up, slut!” He screamed. She felt him struggle with her pants. God, he was gonna actually touch her, she'd have him in her head. Like Big Sam, but worse, much worse. He had her pants down and started struggling with his own pants. “You're gonna get it now you fuckin' bitch. Think you can just ruin my shit and not pay.” He was mumbling, distracted with trying to get himself out of his baggy jeans. She jerked back to push him away but he shoved her to the dirty ground, shoving her face into the wet freezing snow. He pushed himself against her, trying to find her opening. She squeezed her eyes and waited.

The pull kicked in and he gagged. Everything rushed in. The fury, the hate, the arousal. God, no. His frozen form above her jerked and fell atop her back. He was so heavy. She was getting more. It was coming so fast. His last drug deals. His stash. His connections. The last girl he'd fucked, screaming in the back of a club for help while he buried himself into her from behind. Her cries of pain turned him on, turned Marie on.

NO!

She shoved and crawled away, trying to get out from under him. His brother had been shot when he was fourteen, a drive-by. Trip had hidden behind a trashcan in the lawn, cowering. His favorite superhero as a child, Superman.

The pull died away as she finally pulled herself out from under him. She shoved herself up to her feet, pulling up her panties and pants, crying hysterically. He lay there, eyes vacant. She ran.

When she shakily stopped her words, stopped her story, she realized she was staring at the ground again. He wanted the truth. Wanted to know. Well, there you had it.

“It took two weeks for me to stop leering at every girl that walked by, trying to imagine tearing her up from the inside out. That was the worst, I think.”

She finally looked up. His jaw was clenched tight. His eyes hard. “You wanted to know,” she offered desperately. “It's not like I lied, Logan. I just...No one likes to talk about stuff like that.”

“I know.” He was looking at her so intensely. “I wish you would have told me, before we...” He cut himself off and he looked away.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Before we what?”

He cleared his throat. “Before we were together. Before we made love. I woulda...I dunno. Done it differently.”

That was a disturbing thought. “Why? I loved that first time. It was...everything I could have hoped for.” She smiled shyly. “And more.”

He reached for her and stroked her face. He smiled sadly. “I'm sorry. About that happenin’ to you.”

She shrugged. She liked to leave those things in the past.

He almost grinned. There was more. “What, Logan?”

“He dead?”

She sighed. “No. But I don't think he's ever going to take a breath without a breathing tube again. I got more from him than even Cody. He's probably a vegetable.”

He nodded. Satisfied. “Makes sense.”

“What does?”

He smiled. “Why you were able to hotwire the truck so damn fast. Bastard actually came in handy.”

She laughed and tapped the side of her head. “Got a couple lifetime's worth of unscrupulous information up here. Between everyone combined...” She wasn't going to put the three names together. Trip, Erik and Logan. His name didn't belong with the other two. “...I know way too much illegal stuff.”

He laughed and kissed her lips softly. When he pulled away his head turned to the street. “Cops comin'.” She looked over and saw the flashes of light.

XXX

Jubilee threw her copy of “Drift and Mastery” across the library. “This just sucks.”

Marie smiled. “Exams are in two weeks Jubes. You can't give up now.” She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Jubes more or herself. “Then we get a whole month off. Keep your head up.”

Jubes stuck her tongue out at the offending book laying across the floor. “My head is gonna explode from so much higher level thinking. I wasn't made for this.”

“What's going on, Jubes? You're not usually like this.” It was true. Jubilee may have been a gum-smacking smart-ass, but she was also a stellar student.

She sighed. “Girl, life's just coming too fast for me, that's all.”

Marie pulled her foot up and tucked her chin onto her knee. “That's odd of you to say. What brings this on?

Jubes tugged on her yellow sleeve. “Lot of things going on the last few years, you know. Just started thinking about it and it just...sort of overwhelmed me, ya know?”

Marie nodded. “Like what?”

She picked at the sleeve in irritation. “I used to get nightmares. About the pit.” Marie flinched. God, the pit. That was a memory she tried to bury underneath all the other bad memories. Even under Trip.

She could barely get the words out past her suddenly dry throat. “Ya. I remember. Took a couple of months for them to go away.”

Jubes nodded. “They came back, a while ago. I couldn't sleep. Had a rough time.”

Marie scrunched her nose. “You didn't say anything?” That was unlike Jubes. But then again, this was a pretty difficult thing to talk about. “I wish you would have.”

Jubes nodded. “I know.” She smacked her gum. “I had...other...outlets. Remy, mostly.”

Marie's pencil dropped from her hand. “Remy? You and Remy? But I thought...”

Jubes snorted. “Yeah, he was with 'Ro for a while. But we all knew, including her, that Remy wasn't a one-woman kinda guy. He's a player, Rogue. Nobody's been kidding themselves where he's concerned.”

Rogue sat back. “So...you were screwin' around with Remy to not think about the Pit.”

Jubes nodded. “It worked for a while, you know. But eventually, I started dreaming again.” She sighed. “You know what I remember most?”

Marie's heart skipped a beat. She didn't think she wanted to hear this.

“I remember the arm bands, you know. The different colored arm bands.”

Marie closed her eyes. The memory flooded her. Bodies, young and old. Some so old. Some....God, so young. Children. Shot through the head. All of them. They all wore the same issued clothing. Medical scrub pants and white shirts. No shoes. Only different colored bands around their arms. Some were missing, but most had them. Different colors. Red. Black. Blue. Yellow...labels.

'Labeled for extermination' Erik whispered. 'Marked.'

She stood up abruptly and ran out of the room. She covered her mouth to try and keep the vomit in until she got to the bathroom but she didn't make it. She threw her body out one of the emergency doors and wretched in a large trashcan. God, she'd had spaghetti for dinner. It tasted awful coming back up.

'What are you trying to ignore, my dear?' The smell of rot or the sight of labeled rats?'

“Chica, you okay?” Jubes peeked out through the door.

More vomit made its way up again and she choked on the disgusting stuff. 'This is our future, my dear. To be labeled and be put down like dogs.' He was getting louder in her head.

“Shut up, Erik!” She spat.

“Rogue?” Jubes voice held a note of alarm.

'You think you can silence my voice when you know everything I say is true?'

Marie pressed the base of her palms into her eyes.

“Just go away.”

Jubes grabbed her arm. “I'm gonna go get Logan.” Marie tried to push him away, down, down, all the way down. Into the box in her head she'd labeled 'trash'.

'That's not going to work.' He pushed. 'I'm not some human. You can't silence me the way you can silence those insects.'

Why was this happening now? He'd been so quiet for the longest time. “Just...leave me alone,” she whimpered. She grabbed for the railing at the top of the steps and missed. She felt herself heave forward and air rushed past her. She didn't have time to open her eyes in surprise when she felt the sidewalk slam into her.

She heard a sickening crack in her arm. Pain rushed through her and she felt Erik retreat, back into his box.

CHAPTER 19 – A Hit from the Wolverine

She hissed out an angry “Shit!” The pain seared up her wrist and past her elbow. Her face stung madly from where she’d slammed into the ground. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She rolled to her back and squeezed her eyes. God, she was getting nauseated again. Must have broken my damn arm. Where had Jubes gone off to?

She heard the door slam open. “Fuck!” Logan's voice was low and dangerous.

Ah, that's right. She felt her skin itching. Felt her mutation tingle inside her, ready to take the hit. She shoved it aside. Not without me, she told it.

“Chica?” Jubes’ voice, right behind his. “Wha...?”

“Go get Hank!” Logan ordered. A second later, she felt his hand on her pain-tensed face.

“Marie?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.

The pain was pretty damn bad for a broken arm. It was making her short-tempered. “I'm okay,” she hissed. “Just fell.” She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes yet. She was getting dizzy even with them closed.

“No shit,” he ground out. “Your face is all scratched up.”

With a strained whisper she said “My arm, Logan. I think I broke it.”

She felt his warm hand gently move down her elbow. When he pressed gently, she cried out in pain. “Dammit. I think you’re right.” He grunted. “Turn on your mutation, Marie.”

It was incredibly tempting. “Logan...”

“You fuckin' try and argue with me about this, darlin', and you’re gonna find yourself on the receivin’ end of my temper. Now turn on your Goddamn skin, Rogue.”

“Get over yourself, Wolverine,” she said, trying not to kick him.

She heard him growl menacingly, as if he could scare her into submission. Ha! He may be the dominant one in the bedroom, but she had no intention of backing down about this. This would be on her terms.

She heard the door open again. “Oh, my stars and garters. Rogue. My dear, what happened?”  He quickly made his way down the steps.

“She fuckin' fell, McCoy. What's it look like?”

Furry hands quickly checked her over. “Rogue. Can you open your eyes?”

She opened her eyes and the world spun. “Oh, man...” She felt like she was going to be sick.

He pulled her eyelids back one at a time, shining a light into them.

“Doesn't appear to be any trauma to the head, other than these nasty scrapes.” He moved down to the arm she held clutched to her body.

Logan's form hovered protectively over her.

“This may be quite uncomfortable, Rogue. I apologize.”

When he started pressing on her arm, she just about flew out of her skin.

“Aaargh!” She bit her lip to keep from screaming bloody murder.

“Jesus, Hank. Take it easy.” Logan growled.

“Oh, my. It appears to be a compound impacted fracture.” He grimaced. “And it is displaced. It will require reduction.”

“Require what?” Jube's asked.

“Reduction. I'll have to set it.” Hank sighed. “It will be rather uncomfortable.”

“Doesn't fuckin' matter.” Logan growled. “Just turn on your skin.”

“Logan, it may not be that simple. This break is displaced. If she uses your gift to heal the bone, it may fuse wrong. I need to set it first.” Hank sat back.

“Okay,” Marie finally said through gritted teeth. “Just, set the arm and then Ah'll turn it on. This fuckin' hurts too much to keep bein' stubborn.” Jeez, but was her accent thick, or what?

“'Bout damn time,” Logan growled. “Thought you'd gone and lost your mind.”

“Shut up,” she growled. He chuckled humorlessly.

Logan pulled her up by the shoulders and sat behind her, laying her back against his chest, cradling her in his embrace. Hank positioned himself in front of her, gently moving her arm to prepare. She laid her head back against Logan's shoulder and gritted her teeth.

“Logan, you'll need to hold her steady,” Hank said quietly.

She felt him nod. He wrapped one arm around her upper chest, gripping tight as the opposite hand came to rest on her forehead, pushing down firmly.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Hank said.

“Yeah. Don't count or anythin’, Hank. Jus’...”

She heard the snap. It felt like a knife was ripping up her arm. She screamed through her gritted teeth, her body struggling against Logan's firm grip. He whispered softly into her ear as she felt the tears leak out her eyes.

“Dammit!” she said through heaving breaths.

“You done yet, furball?” Logan ground out.

Hank felt around again, making sure everything was in place. She moaned in pain at his ministrations.

Finally, he laid her arm down carefully and sighed. “All set. We should do the rest down in the lab though. I want to monitor both of you for the transfer.”

“She's taken hits off me plenty of times before, Hank.”

“Yes, but...”

“No fuckin' buts.  Now.”

Hank sighed. “Very well. Just let me get my stethoscope so I can be ready in case you lose consciousness.”

“Go ahead, darlin'.” He whispered into her ear again. “Take it.”

She sighed and her fingers itched again in anticipation. His face was closely pressed to hers. There was no need to find contact. She closed her eyes and re-prioritized.

“Healing...” She said to herself. “Just healing.”

She pulled.

It was so easy. So controlled. She started out gently. She sifted through his gifts until she found the one she wanted, pushing aside the heightened senses, the feral instincts. Pushing aside his thoughts and memories. She pulled the thread in her head that was his healing. She made it go slow, so as not to overwhelm him. She heard his grunt in her ear as he felt her take. She pulled a little more.

Her face itched as the scrapes closed up. She felt her bone knit together painfully. It was a throbbing blunt pain that slowly, slowly, faded away.

When she clenched her fist and felt no pain, she let go. She pushed her mutation down, ruthlessly suppressing it.

She opened her eyes and looked to see how Logan was. When she turned her head, he was breathing a little quickly, a little raggedly. But otherwise, he seemed fine.

“You okay?”

He smiled. “Fine, darlin. You?”

She raised her arm and made a fist with her hand, turning it to show him. “All better.”

“That was pretty impressive there.” He said softly. “I hardly felt it. You're gettin' pretty fuckin' good at this.”

She smiled.

Hank spoke next. “We should get you down to the lab and take some x-rays, Rogue. Just to make sure everything healed correctly.”

She nodded. She pushed herself up to her feet and helped Logan stand. He didn't really need it. But she wanted to make sure.

“We'll be right there, Hank.”

Logan pulled her aside. “Tell me what happened.”

Marie looked down at her feet. “I fell, Logan.”

“What was that shit Jubes came tearin' into the TV room shoutin' about?”

“Umm...” She didn't really have an answer.

“You were talkin' to yourself, Chica.”

Marie glared at Jubes.

“It was nothin'. I just think out loud to myself sometimes.” The lie sounded stupid even to her own ears.

“Nuh uh,” Jubes said, ratting her out. “Not unless your inner you is a man named Erik. In which case, Wolvie, I'm sorry to break the news to you that your girl’s battin' for the other side.” She grinned widely. “But I'm free.”

“What?” Logan had been looking at Jubes while she spoke, but turned to Marie in alarm now.

“Thanks a lot, Jubes.” She glared daggers at her impish friend.

“No prob. I'm just gonna go hop off while you handle this, Wolvester.” She patted him on the back and turned to walk off. “Oh, and Rogue? We'll finish our conversation later.”

Rogue swallowed as she watched Jube's retreat. Bitch.

CHAPTER 20 - Five

They sat in their room, staring at each other. He’d flipped his chair to face backwards again, straddling it and leaning his arms on top of the backrest. She faced him, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

He was trying really hard to concentrate on her words. But her scent was driving him crazy. She always smelled delicious, but right now, she smelled...

God, she fuckin’ smells like she needs a good fuck.

He shook his head and sat up straighter in the chair, trying to clear his thoughts. He was getting hazy with lust.

Why did she suddenly smell so Goddamn good? Better than usual. If she didn’t stop whatever the fuck she was doing to smell that way, he was going to have to ravish her.

They’d gone upstairs to discuss whatever the fuck had happened. He’d sent one of the brats down to Hank to let him know Marie wasn’t going down there until he’d gotten some answers.

He’d been just dandy watching the game on the TV, beer in hand, grumbling about the weak-ass check this guy had made when Jubilee had come tearing around the corner, using one hand to stop herself by gripping the door frame and swinging herself around into the room.

“Whoa, Logan. Dude, Rogue’s like, seriously losing it.” Her breath was coming in fast little pants.

He’d slammed his beer down so hard, it had frothed over onto the table. He was out the door before he could even decipher what the hell Jubes had said.

“Where?”

“Outside the library, man.” She was following along behind him, taking two steps for every one of his.

When he got out the door she’d pointed to, Marie was sprawled out on the ground at the bottom of the steps, arm pulled up tight to her chest, her face raw and bloody from the sidewalk. The grimace she was making matched the scent of pain washing off of her.

“Fuck.”

He’d been agitated. Seeing her on the ground, angry scrapes slowly seeping blood and her arm swelling from the break -- it had set him on edge. When she’d finally agreed to use his healing, he’d been two seconds away from clawing someone.

He’d been so preoccupied with her injuries, he’d temporarily forgotten about the reason he’d gone out there in the first place. Then Jubilee, the big yakker, outed Marie’s pathetic attempt for a lie and he actually felt his claws pierce the skin between his knuckles. It was a struggle to keep them in.

He’d dragged her up to their room and deposited her on the bed. He didn’t really give a flying fuck when she made a comment about him manhandling her.  He knew she was just trying to dodge the conversation.

Finally, she’d let out an annoyed huff of breath and started telling him what happened.

That’s when he’d noticed it. Her smell. Jesus. She smelled so damn appealing. He found himself pulling closer to her, wanting very much to bury his face into her neck and imprint that aroma she was giving out.

That’s when he’d grabbed up the chair and planted himself firmly in it, determined to have this conversation.

It wasn’t uncommon for his thoughts to stray off into ‘Sex with Marie’ territory, but this was getting fucking ridiculous. He was getting so hard it was becoming painful.

“When was the last time he came out?” Concentrate, dammit.

She sighed and chewed on her lip, thinking. “Not since Alkali Lake. He came out then. But I figured that’s because he was right there. Talkin’ to me. Tryin’ to rile me up, you know?”

He nodded. “And this time? He just, started talkin’?”

She scratched her head. “Not so much.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, Jubes was talkin’ to me about some stuff. I think maybe the conversation may have triggered him, triggered some memories.”

He lowered his eyebrows. “What the hell were you two talkin’ about that the old bag of bones was brought up?”

“Not him,” she said. She brought a knee up and rested her chin on it.

She’s always doin’ that when she’s thinkin’ about serious stuff. It’s endearing....and hot. Damn it! Stop thinkin’ ‘bout sex with Marie.

“The pit.”

He grimaced. Yeah, that might do it. “You two still talk about that shit?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not me. But she was having some trouble sleepin’. Wanted to talk about it. Then I just started rememberin’ things and it made me pretty nauseous.”

She waved a hand. “And there he was, goadin’ me on. As strong as ever,” she grumbled. “The Professor always said it would probably never go away. That I’d always have parts of the people I took inside of me. The more I’d taken, the more likely I’d see them pop up now and then.”

He did not like the sound of that. “What about me?”

She smiled. “You’re always quiet. I feel you there, more than him. But you don’t bother me.” She looked at him lovingly. “It’s like you don’t say anything ‘cause you know it’s my head and you don’t want to intrude.” She grinned. “It’s very gentlemanly.”

He laughed self-consciously. He’d never been called that in his life.

“What about...” He didn’t like bringing it up. “...Detroit.”

She was silent for a second as she thought about it. “I never really got much conversation from Trip, other than at first. Which I always thought was strange. But then, I never got very much from Cody, Big Sam or the nurses either. Never heard a peep out of Moira.”

She looked like she was thinking really hard.

“Marie?”

“Erik said something.” When the fuck did she start calling him by his first name? “How I can’t shut him up like I can the humans. I wonder if that’s a big difference? A human versus a mutant.”

“You always say getting’ a hit off a human is crazy, no control. Maybe they fade away.” God he hoped so, for her sake. He didn’t want to think about that douche from Detroit popping up and whispering his lewd messed-up thoughts into her mind.

She groaned quietly. “It’s like I’m doomed to hear their voices forever.” He wasn’t amused with her train of thought. “Kinda takes the shine off the hits, don’t you think?”

He nodded. It had creeped him out when Chuck had spoken to him telepathically. He hated the idea of Marie having to experience that on a regular basis. Thank God it seemed to happen rarely.

“I could see myself goin’ crazy with too many in my head.” She seemed almost pensive.

“What the hell does that mean?”

She looked at him. “I’m thinkin’ that if I’d never learned to control my mutation, never learned to turn it off...eventually, over time -- with enough deep pulls from mutants -- it would have been hard to stay sane.”

“But you have learned to control it.”

She bit her lip in concentration. “Yeah. But...what if the desire is too strong?”

She was getting on a roll now. “The feelin’ I always get, when I want a mutation? It’s so intense. Like today. I’ve taken small hits from you plenty of times, but today my fingers were goin’ itchy crazy wantin’ it, so I could heal. When Bobby’s around, I’m always jonesin’ for such a strong hit. And Remy! It’s like their strong mutations are always callin’ to me. It’s almost...” She struggled for the words. “...I don’t know. Like, powerful.”

He watched her as she thought out loud. He was pretty sure she would have had better luck having this sort of philosophical talk with the Professor.

“You tryin’ to say there’s a cost to power?”

She snapped her eyes up. “Exactly.”

He shrugged. “But you’re not lookin’ for power. You’re lookin’ to get by.”

And wasn’t that the ticket, right there.

His mind raced back to that meeting months ago. When Moira had spoken about the difference between a Class Four and a Class Five.

He let out a long breath, seeing clearly for the first time.

“You’re a Class Four. Not a Five. A Five wouldn’t be able to see the difference. Wouldn’t be able to see the cost. And even if they could, they’d probably think they could win without losin’ control. But in the end, it gets them, like Moira said. All the cases they know of are like that. Even Jeannie.”

She was looking at him, mouth slightly hanging open.

“Chuck tried to put walls up for her. To separate Phoenix from Jean -- but it didn’t work. It got to her in the end; and killed her. A Five has all the power of a Four, but none of the urges to stop, to take a good look.  So it always just looks like Fives have more power, when what they really have is no damn control.”

She stuttered through a few syllables before clamping her mouth shut. She took a few deep breaths. “Wow...”

“Yeah. Wow.” Relief washed over him. “You’re a Four.”

She nodded. “Because I’m trigger shy.”

He smiled. “Because you look before you jump.”

She let that beautiful smile come across her face and his brain began to haze back up.

That scent... He stood up and walked to the bed, pulling her up to stand with him.

“You been doin’ something different lately?”

She looked a bit confused. “Huh? No. Why?”

He buried his face into her neck and groaned at the delicious scent. Jesus Christ, it was getting even stronger. “You smell so fuckin’ good right now.”

She laughed. “I smell different?”

He nodded. “Better. God. You smell so....” He grabbed her hips and ground his hardening erection into her stomach. “...enticing.”

She smiled hotly at him. “Maybe I grabbed a bit of your feral by accident,” she said nuzzling the area under his chin. “I am feeling a bit...animalistic.” She nipped at the curve of his jaw and he lost it.

He slammed her up against the wall and devoured her mouth. He reached down and ripped open her shirt, buttons flying around the room. She gasped and pulled at his belt.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged it back so that he could sink into her mouth even more. He was growling, pushing down her jeans with his other hand. She struggled to pull them off, kicking her shoes off at the same time.

She barely got them off before he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his hips. She let out a little cry of arousal and he thought he was going to explode with need.

He ripped his mouth away.

“Jesus Christ, Marie,” he ground out.

Her scent was just getting more erotic, more mouth-watering. With her pants and panties off and her working herself on his jeans, the smell of her wet core permeated his brain to absolutely sear him from the inside out. Every animal instinct roared at him to bury himself inside her.

He pushed down the front of his jeans to free himself. Her shirt was down around her elbows, her bra still in place. She was whimpering with need and he just fucking had to be inside her. Now.

He braced her back against the wall and positioned himself before taking her mouth with his and burying himself into her ferociously. She cried out into his mouth and the scent of  her arousal spiked. She clung to him desperately, her arms wrapped around his neck.

He broke the kiss and grunted with each thrust. “God, you feel so good, darlin’.”

He felt himself on the edge. “Marie,” he groaned into her neck.

She let out a little moan before saying between thrusts. “Let go, Logan.”

He roared and came inside her, frantically rutting through his release. It wasn’t enough, the animal inside howled. Never enough. He kept going, biting at her neck and burying himself in her body over and over.

Fire crawled up his spine and he felt himself on the brink of yet another orgasm. She held onto him, submitting to his need in the most erotic way, her teeth biting at her bottom lip in ecstasy. He could feel her clenching around him. She was close.

He felt an overwhelming need to claim her, to show her. She made everything so good. Everything.

He whispered hoarsely in her ear, never stopping the rhythm of his hips. “I love you.”

She cried out his name and came, her hips jerking madly against him. Her convulsing muscles around him sent him over the edge again and he groaned into her neck, pumping furiously into her.

When they finally came down from the indescribable high, he let her legs slowly lower to the floor.

“You okay?” he asked, running his hand over her hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She smiled beautifully again. “Not even close.” She giggled. “I’m gonna have to get a little of that feral thing from you now and then. If it makes you this crazy.”

He chuckled and let his forehead rest against her. “Not too often. I was havin’ trouble seein’ straight with you smellin’ that good.”

She laughed softly and laid her head on his chest, letting out a contented sigh. “I love you, Logan.”

He was glad she couldn’t see the pansy-ass grin on his face.

“I should get down to the lab. Get those X-rays done. Hank will be worried until I do.”

He nodded.

She cleaned up in the bathroom quickly and he wiped himself clean as well before pulling his pants back up.

He could hear her sigh in the bathroom “I’m gonna need a different shirt. This one’s dead.”

He chuckled. “Couldn’t help myself darlin’.”  She let out a muttered curse.

“Ah kinda liked this one.”

He couldn’t help the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“And wipe that smirk off your face, mister. Don’t think I don’t know how damn proud of yourself you are.”

He outright laughed.

XXX

The door to the elevator opened and they walked down the corridor of the lower levels to the medlab. She’d put on a short-sleeved top so Hank could get a clean X-ray. It was a deep green, which looked fuckin’ fantastic on her. She smelled absolutely fantastic, too.

He probably looked like a smug bastard right now, but he didn’t care. Not too often you got to walk the halls with your girl smelling this Goddamn good and fully satisfied to boot. He was going to have to find out how to make her smell like that more often.

If it was her having pulled a bit of his feral nature during the transfer, he was going to have special transfer days for ‘sex with Marie’.

It was her scent, just...amplified. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Her cheeks were still flushed from their heated coupling. She looked downright ravishing.

The door to the medlab slid open and they walked in. Hank was just coming out of his office with a tray of freshly sterilized instruments.

“Ah, Logan. Rogue. Wonderful timing. I was just...”

He saw the flare of Hanks nostrils just before the tray of metal and glass objects crashed to the floor. Oh, fuck.

Hank’s eyes dilated and he took two steps towards Marie. It was the first time the animal had come roaring out of Logan outside of a fight.

He used his arm to push a surprised Marie back through the door and snarled at Hank, claws coming out with a echoing SHNIK.

“Get a fuckin’ hold of yourself, McCoy.” It was the only warning he was going to give.

Hank’s eyes cleared and he took a step back. He looked distraught and embarrassed. He cleared his throat and stuttered an apology.

“Oh, my. Oh, dear. I can’t begin to apologize enough...”

Logan hadn’t been able to put a finger on exactly why Marie’s scent had been so enticing the whole evening. But at the sight, and fucking smell, of Hank’s response, he suddenly realized what it was he was picking up on. She must have gotten a bigger dose of his feral traits than they originally thought.

Because Marie was in fuckin’ heat.

CHAPTER 21 – Exams

She buried her face in her hands, absolute mortification making her flush from the tips of her ears down to her toes. She wanted to crawl under a rock.

“This can't be happenin'.”

She sat on a stool in the medlab, Logan standing less than a foot away, hovering over her possessively, hands in fists by his sides. She could just make out the dangerous rumble he was giving off.

Hank stood half way across the room, shifting from foot to foot, looking so painfully uncomfortable she felt sorry for him. He was turned half away from her, eyes shifting from place to place, hardly ever landing on her.

“It is,” Logan grunted.

Hank nodded and tried to speak. “Uh, yes. I must, um, concur with Logan.” He cleared his throat. “It's quite powerful.” He nervously grabbed his glasses and tried to clean them with shaking hands. “Quite....”

Logan's rumble became a low growl of warning. Marie looked at him with horror.

“Is this...” she pointed between the two of them. “...behavior...normal?”

Logan grunted. “As normal as it's gonna get.”

She looked to Hank, who was scratching his neck. “Hank?”

He looked at her fleetingly, bringing his eyes away immediately. “Logan and I are ferals, Rogue. You may have gotten a healthy dose of it but it's ingrained into our DNA.”

“Huh?”

Logan pressed his lips together. “It's a rival thing,” he said. “Hank can't help it anymore than I can.”

“But he doesn't have to stand half way across the room,” she insisted. She turned to Hank. “You're not going to hurt me, Hank. I'm not scared of you.”

Logan's growl turned dangerous. “No.”

Before she could protest, Hank spoke up. “Body language is almost as important to us as scent is, Rogue. I, obviously, am having a reaction to your body's chemical output. But it's more than merely olfactory.”

He shifted. “My presence threatens Logan's claim on you. It makes it very uncomfortable for him for me to be too close.” He flinched. “And it's quite uncomfortable for me as well.”

She turned pink again. “I'm so sorry, Hank.”

“Not your fault,” Logan grumbled. His growl had come back down to a rumble.

“Indeed not,” Hank agreed. “It will wear off soon, along with any other manifestations of his mutation that you pulled on. Healing mostly.” He shifted. It looked like he wanted to say something but was having a difficult time working up the courage.

“What?” Logan snapped.

Hank cleared his throat again. “I assume...I assume you are using protection.”

She scrunched her nose. How did he know....

Oh, dear God. Why wouldn't the earth just open up and swallow her up whole? “God, you can smell that too?”

Hank actually turned a slight bit pink, which came out more purple than anything else. “It's a very powerful scent. You must be in the ovulation portion of your estrus cycle for this...heat...to set in. I’m just trying to..” He cleared his throat. “...make sure you’re taking precautions.”

She tried to get a hold of the humiliation. She sighed and rested her forehead in her hand. “I've been on the pill for a long time. Jean put me on it originally, when I was with Bobby.”

Logan snarled. “Why the fuck would you have needed it then?”

Hank jumped slightly and shifted away a little more.

She glared at him. “Because that's what a good doctor does, Logan. A mess of teenagers livin' in the same building? You'd have to be thick not to know what happens. She was taking precautions.” Which really weren't needed at the time since anything like that with Bobby would have killed him. “Moira kept me on it after that and that's it. No problems.”

He turned his face away and took a huge breath of air, trying to calm himself.

Hank nodded. “Well, that is... that’s good. We should maybe take your x-rays on a different day, Rogue. I think perhaps today...it may be difficult under the current conditions. Your arm seems healed enough, yes? No pain?”

Logan took hold of her upper arm. “None. Let's go.” He had her off the stool before she could even answer.

“Logan!”

He growled into her ear. “Marie, I'm two seconds from guttin' the man.” She was surprised by the strain in his voice.

“Okay.” She let him lead her out and back to the elevator. The doors closed and they were halfway to the second floor when he finally let out a breath of air. “You okay?”

He closed his eyes and shuddered. “That was fuckin' intense.” She walked out in front of him when the doors opened back up onto their floor. They walked quietly down the hall.

She sighed. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I didn't realize how strong the feral instincts are.”

He grunted, leaning around her to open the door to their room. “You didn't do anythin' wrong, darlin'. You didn't know.”

She walked in and he closed the door. She could see him visibly relax. “I understand why you needed some distance from each other. But...why was he so skittish?”

He growled. “He was aroused, Marie. You're lettin' off a pretty damn enticin' scent. But your mine. My mate. He knows that. He could smell the sex all over us. If he didn't want me breaking his jaw to assert dominance, he was goin' to have to show submission to me.”

She flinched. “That sounds awful. And degrading.”

Logan nodded. “He did it out of respect. It was pretty damn decent of him actually. We're feral, Marie. We understand what the other one is feelin'. I've never been around a female feral -- not that I can remember anyway -- so I didn't recognize the scent.” He cringed. “Well, my body did, but not my head. Once I smelled Hank's reaction, it sort of clicked in my mind. I felt threatened. I needed to keep you away from him, in case he tried to mate with you.”

She took a deep breath. “Rough.”

He rubbed his face. “That's one way to put it.”

She shifted. “Do I still smell like that? It hasn't worn off any?”

She saw his nostrils flare and his eyes darken with desire. She swallowed, feeling a flush creep up her neck.

She grinned. “It's actually sort of...hot.”

Her words caught him off guard and he growled. “Cut it out.”

“Cut what out?” She smiled inside. Might as well take advantage. She suddenly had the most wicked idea.

“You know what, Marie. Cut it out.” He was staring at her, his muscles tense. She walked over to the bed.

She shrugged. “Okay.” She let the wickedness she felt inside show in a slow smile that spread across her face. She stretched languidly. “I'm tired. I think I'm just gonna lay down.”

She crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees. He stiffened and growled. “Marie, I swear to God...”

She laughed. Sweet revenge was hers at last. “How would a female feral do it, Logan? Am I close?”

He never answered her, but if his roars of pleasure from his position behind her were any sort of indication, she was pretty sure she'd hit the nail on the head.

XXX

Before they knew it, exams were upon the X-men college students. Bobby and Kitty were at their state college, but Jubilee and Marie drove to the closest local college administering exams for their program.

After two weeks locked up in the library, they'd driven into Salem for three consecutive days, nervous but prepared. The testing room held a full class of online learning students all taking different exams. Three proctors handled the materials and walked around the room as Jubes struggled through her history exams and Marie pushed through her engineering ones.

Thursday finally dawned, the last day of exams. She'd noticed Logan rise and leave a while ago but hadn't bothered to find out why. Her face stayed buried in her pillow, trying to get every last moment of sleep possible. Her hardest exam was today. She'd stayed up late trying to cram as much as she could into her head.

She heard the door open as he entered a while later. “Marie,” he said softly. He crawled into the bed and climbed half on top of her, running a hand over her hair. “You gotta get up, darlin'. You gotta be downstairs to meet Yella' in 30 minutes.”

She grumbled into her pillow. He chuckled. “You're gonna be pissed if I let you sleep more.” She only muttered and buried her face under the pillow. He pulled it away, fighting her for it.

“Logaaaan...It's too early.” She flopped onto her back. He rumbled with laughter and pushed her hair aside.

“You still gotta get up.” She frowned.

“I could not go. I could just drop out. Lotsa people don't go to college. Besides, I'm in debt up to my ears in college loans. I don't need any more.”

He laughed and she peeked out from under her lashes to see a smile she recognized. “What is that smile, Logan?”

After a moment, “I paid off those loans three months ago.” She gaped at him.

“You what?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No reason to be payin’ interest like that.”

She sat up as much as his weight would let her, using her elbows to support herself. “They're federal student loans, Logan. They’re subsidized, and they’re not accruing any interest yet.”

He shrugged. “And?”

“You paid off my loans?” She couldn't believe this.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Is that a problem?”

“Well...” It sure as hell was. “I mean...it's not your debt, Logan. It's mine. You don’t need to...”

He kissed her mouth, swallowing her protests. When he pulled away he said “No. I don't. But I want to. I have the money. And I have no intentions of not havin' you around so it's our money.”

She glared at him. “Logan...”

“Don't.” he stated firmly. “Don't argue with me on this one, Marie. I'm serious.”

They stared at each other for a moment, each one looking for the other to fold. She plopped back down on the bed. “You're a stubborn man.”

He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. He buried his face in her neck and nuzzled.

“You smell good,” he rumbled. She smiled despite herself. He pulled his head back looking at her oddly. “Real good.”

She was suddenly worried. “The feral faded away weeks ago...”

“No, no,” he said. He dipped his face back in. “It's not that. You just smell...sweeter. I dunno. Still you, though.”

She laughed guardedly. “But not bad?”

He shook his head while still nuzzling her neck. “No. It's nice. Real nice.” He pulled away and sighed. “I'll try and figure it out later. Right now, you have to get goin’.” She groaned.

XXX

“Damn. We're gonna be late.” Rogue muttered, stuffing her textbook back into her bag.

“No, we're not.” Jubes said while pushing down on the gas.

Marie grabbed onto the side handle when they took a corner a little too fast for her taste.

“Jubes, girl. Take it easy. Remember? I've been in a car that’s flipped. Not good memories.”

Jubes sighed. “No worries, chica. We're in a sedan. They don't flip as easy.”

“Real comforting,” Marie muttered.

“After today, girl, we're off for a whole month. It's gonna be niiiice.” Jubes had a ridiculous smile on her face. “Hangin' out. Drinkin'. Clubbin'. The whole time. Just chillin'.”

Marie smiled. “It will be pretty nice.”

“Now...” Jubes said with disdain, “If only the X-men would lay off a bit on the six a.m. workout sessions...we could really get some much needed R and R.”

“That's not likely to happen, Jubes,” Marie laughed.

She shrugged. “A girl can hope.” She took another corner and flew into the school drive, following it around to the building where the testing rooms were located.

Marie looked out the window and to the sky. “It looks like it's really gonna come down out there. The sky’s pretty dark.”

Jubes sighed. “I heard sleet and rain on the news this morning. Sucks.”

They finally came up on the parking lot of the building they needed. “Damn,” Jubes muttered. “No good parking.”

“Doesn't matter, Jubes. Just find a spot and let's get going. We're pushin’ it kinda close.”

They pulled into a spot in the middle of the large parking lot and spilled out quickly.

“Leave your phone Jubes,” She said while tossing hers on the seat.

Jubes grumbled and tossed hers in. “Stupid testing rules.”

They quickly got their testing materials and ran for the building. There were a couple of Jeeps towards the front with a handful of guys hanging out, music blaring out the stereo. Jubes actually slowed to smile. Marie had to grab her arm and drag her off.

“Jubes. Exam.”

She smiled and waved at them. “Right.”

XXX

“My head is going to collapse upon itself,” Jubes groaned. “So glad that's over.”

Marie smiled. “Me too. Four weeks of relaxation.”

They walked down the hall, pushing through the double doors. Then they stopped in their tracks. “Aw, shit,” Jubes cursed.

The rain was coming down fast. As they stood and stared it only started going harder.

Marie pulled the hood of her jacket over her head. “Guess we're gonna get wet.”

Jubes pushed her hair into the hood of her yellow rain jacket. “I did my hair this morning too,” she grumbled. Tucking materials into her pack, she watched as others from the exam room ran out into the rain, instantly getting wet. “Oh, fuck,” she muttered angrily.

Marie finished pulling her gloves on and sighed. “Ready?”

“Man,” Jubes sighed. “Okay. Let's go.”

They splashed out, running towards the parking lot. Marie held her hood in place and felt the icy water splash against her face. Jubes, who'd been jogging through the rain ahead of her, slowed to pull the keys out of her pocket. Marie passed her, feeling the bottom of her jeans grow heavy and wet from the puddles. They finally reached the car and Marie ran around to the passenger side. When she pulled the handle, it wasn't unlocked yet.

“Jubes, come on.” She looked up to see no Jubes at the car.

“Jubes?” she called.

She looked around, squinting through the falling rain and saw her standing two cars over with one of the guys from earlier standing in front of her.

“Jeez, really?” Marie muttered.

“Jubes,” she called running over. “Seriously? It's pouring do...”

She halted mid-step. Jubes had her hands up by her side.

The man was pointing a gun at her head.

CHAPTER 22 - The Whole Point of View: Part I

Kitty dropped her bag by the desk and pulled out her laptop. Hooking it up, she pulled the chair over and put one of her earpieces in to listen to some tunes while she worked. She'd finally be able to work on that program for the security system she'd been itching to get to. She'd gotten in that morning and was definitely looking forward to a month long break. She never went home on vacations except for a few days. She felt more at home at the mansion.

Her parents never understood why. They always gave her a hard time about it. She tried to be patient with them -- she supposed her feelings would be hurt too if her own kid preferred to live somewhere else instead of at home. But they tried, and that's all she was going to ask for.

She rocked her head to the music as she typed away at the program. Bobby was going to flip when he saw how far along she'd gotten on this thing. Maybe he'd actually get around to asking her out this time back at the mansion. She was getting sick and tired of waiting.

He wasn't getting in until this evening. Rogue and Jubes were at their last exam right now. Hank was doing some work down in Washington and Ororo and Remy were busy herding the last of the kids into the buses to take them home for the holiday season. So Kitty had volunteered to take office duty.

She worked for an hour or so squinting at the her progress and enjoying the sound of rain beating down on the windows. She sat back and rubbed her eyes while listening to some old Queen songs. She loved their tunes. She hummed along to Bohemian Rhapsody, stretching her stiff arms when the phone rang.

The phone.

She stared at in shock. It was the central phone line used for emergencies. They'd all been given the number when they had arrived at the school. It was, upon penalty of likely death, only to be used in cases of crisis. Big, whopping, 'I'm in deep shit' emergencies.

It started its second ring before she flew out of her seat to reach for it. She brought it to her ear, trying to remember the protocol she'd been taught when first taking on office duties.

Quick. Even. Reassuring. Get the facts. As many as possible, in case there is an interruption. Don't mention the school’s name, in case someone has gotten the number who isn't supposed to have access to it. Don'tfreeze.

“Yes?” She tried to make her voice calm and steady.

A pause. “Kit Cat?” The voice on the other line was at a near shout. Only a couple people called her that. And that voice...

“Jubes?” Oh, God. She tried to calm her frantic nerves.

“Girl, we're in some serious shit over here.” She was panting while she spoke into the phone.

“What's going on?” Get the facts.

She heard some noises in the background. Screaming? “We're at the college. We got ambushed. There were a mess of guys waiting for us.” Her voice was shaking. “They’re psychos, Kit. They shot up half the parking lot. I caught one in the shoulder but Rogue is good so far.”

“You're hurt?” She tried not to panic.

“Not bad, babe. You know me. I get out of everything.” She paused and cursed. “You got a quarter or something?” Who was she talking to? “We got separated. Rogue's still back there fighting off some shitheads. Made me go find this damn payphone... I need a damn quarter!... Thank fucking God I had some change in my pocket...Shit.”

She thought frantically. Get more information. “Ok. Listen. Tell me exactly where you are. Quick. We ca...”

“Damn.” Jube's voice interjected. “It keeps asking for more money. I don't have...”

The line went dead.

Kitty's heart stopped.

“Oh, God.” She stared at the phone. They were at the college. In Salem Center, right? Men. With guns. Shooting. Jubes is hurt. And Rogue? In a fight somewhere.

Her mind raced and she struggled for what to do next for only a second. She ran to the corner of the office where the intercom system was located. She punched in the code for the main speaker system.

They didn't have time. Things were going down now. They had to get over there as soon as possible. There was no time to call everyone individually. She hit the speaker button, hearing the main speakers throughout the school come to life.

“All available team members. I repeat. All available team members. This is an emergency. Get to the Bird as quickly as possible. Get to the Bird. This is an emergency.”

She hit the end button and ran out of the room, turning the corner to the stairs. The elevator would be too slow. She leaped down the steps two at a time. Phasing through the closed door at the bottom of the stairwell, she ran down the hall to the locker room.

She noticed Ororo stepping off the elevator at the far end. “Storm!”

Ororo looked over and ran towards her. “What happened?”

“Just get suited up. Quick. I'll tell everyone when we're together.” A quick nod. Thank God Ororo trusted her enough to let her take the lead for now.

Ororo looked towards the entrance of the locker room as they stripped. “Are Jubilation and Rogue back yet?”

Kitty swallowed the bile in her throat. “No. Not yet.”

When she finally got her last boot on, Storm was draping her wind cape and hooking it up. They ran out together.

They were met by the men, already pulling gloves on and quickly moving towards the hanger. So few of us.

“What's the deal, Pride?” She snapped her head over to Logan. Her heart in her throat, she panicked at the idea of telling him.

“Pride. Situation. Now.” He was all business. Calm. Cool. Collected.

She stared him straight in the eyes when she spoke out to everyone. “Jubilee called.”

She saw the moment he made the connection. He stilled and his eyes turned angry and dangerous. She barely noticed the surprised and horrified gasps from those around them.

His voice was low and feral. “Talk. Now.”

“There was an ambush waiting for them at the school. The parking lot, I think.” She gathered her courage. “There was a fight. Involving guns. Jubilee said she was hit, but not badly. They got into one of the buildings. She wasn't able to tell me which one before we got cut off.”

“And Rogue?” He was barely containing his rage.

“I don't know.”

He bared his teeth.

“She said they came into the building together. Rogue hadn't been shot. But they were separated during a fight in the building. Jubilee went to find a phone.” She took a deep breath. “From what she said it sounded like there were casualties.”

Ororo took a breath. “Let's get going.”

They took off down the hanger and strapped themselves into seats. So few. She thought. Logan,, Remy, 'Ro, Warren and me. She closed her eyes. Only five. Just like at Alcatraz.

That hadn't gone so well.

XXX

Warren was never comfortable on planes. From early childhood he'd thought them frightening and dangerous machines that did nothing but shoot along the sky with very little grace.

He'd admit it probably had to do with that first flight -- the one his father had taken him on when he was only eight. It had been so violently bumpy and unstable, Warren had refused to get on another plane without a screaming fit for the majority of his childhood.

He was quite young when his mutation manifested. It wasn't long after that initial flight that he'd started feeling the itching and soreness on his back. It had horrified him. It had horrified his father.

The first time he took flight, he'd relished in the smoothness and assurance of his wings. It was a difference that only made his dislike for aircraft more pronounced. The day he'd leapt from his father's office building had been the first time in his life he'd used those wings to claim his freedom.

Sitting on the Blackbird was making him ill. It was smoother than any other commercial plane. But still. He would always prefer air travel his own way. But there were moments like these. Moments where he had to put aside his fears and deal with the situation.

He didn't speak much to the Wolverine at any time. The man was so different from Warren, they found little, if anything, in common. Not only that, Warren felt a rather deep sense of guilt about the entire situation they currently found themselves in.

His father's company had wanted to keep Rogue for experimentation. And while Warren no longer had any contact with his father, he still felt responsible by association.

Knowing the Wolverine's temper on a good day, he wasn't about to push himself on the man now. He'd probably get three sharp claws in the chest. But they were pulling over the campus now and Warren felt he had some rather pertinent information. He cleared his throat.

“Worthington Lab’s policies don't allow for these actions. My father was always very proud of the transparency in the program. I don't think it's them.”

There. A general statement. Not directed towards anyone. So why was the Wolverine glaring at him with a murderous stare.

“You tryin' to say they ain't a part of this?”

Warren flinched. “No. I'm just...we should look outside the company as well. My father was training me to take over one day. There's no budget for these kinds of dealings.”

They were coming down over the baseball field. Wolverine unbuckled himself before they even landed and moved to the exit door, obviously eager to get out at the first opportunity. He glared at Warren. “You ain't your dad, kid. But don't try and protect the bastard.”

Warren let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. He wasn't being blamed. That was a bigger relief than he thought it would be.

They finally touched down and Warren felt his muscles relax. The gangway opened and they quickly made their way out, Storm staying behind to monitor the plane.

The ground was drenched and muddy. It had rained hard, but the sky was clearing now.   Warren brought up his wings to stretch them out. He looked around and took note of the scorekeeper’s tower.

Wolverine cursed. “It fuckin' poured down rain for the last hour at least. It's going to make it damn near impossible to catch either of their scents.”

He looked at the three of them. “I can hear the sirens. The cops and fire department are here. Ambulances too. We're going to need to split up to search.” Kitty dug out the earpieces from her bag, handing one to each of them. “With cops hangin' around we need to keep to call signs.”

They hooked up the earpieces and coordinated channels. Warren couldn't help but notice how Wolverine's movements were quick and blunt. He was on edge. With one of the missing members being Rogue, Warren was surprised he wasn't more distracted. Then again, he did look like he might murder someone given the slightest provocation.

“Gambit, Shadowcat...take the north side. Stay away from the cops. Maybe the girls were able to get to that side of campus.” He turned to Warren. “Angel, get up there and see if you can't see them from the sky. Sparky's always wearing that God-awful yellow. She'll be easier to spot than Rogue. I'll take the south end of campus. Any of you see a damn thing, you get on the com and let me know. We clear?”

When they nodded, Wolverine didn't waste any time. He took off at a run towards one of the parking lots.

Warren broke off and ran to the scorekeeper’s tower. The door was bolted but he easily kicked it in with one smooth blow from his foot. He quickly made his way up the narrow steps to the small office. The grate was closed as well, but had no lock. He stood on the desk and pulled up on the handle. It noisily slid up. He had a clear view.

Kitty had once been shocked to learn he couldn't just fly off the ground like a bird. He was too big and aerodynamically speaking, the human body wasn't built to fly. His bones were much less dense than those of a regular human. But beside the wings, it was the only major physical difference he held. He was actually quite light, lighter than even the girls on the team.

Even so, he wasn't a bird. He couldn't just take off and fly up. He required lift. He'd always just told everyone he didn't fly, he glided. It was more accurate.

He ducked out of the window and looked down. Thirty or so foot drop. It was enough. He coiled his wings in and let go. Swan diving off the ledge, he brought his wings out and caught the current of air, immediately soaring up.

Much better than the Blackbird.

He spent twenty minutes gliding around, landing on rooftops to get a better look into alleys and turning back to avoid being seen by the authorities. He would have been able to search better if they weren't around. It was making everything difficult. From the reports of Remy and Kitty, they'd only just managed to get around the security at the one end of the building.

Wolverine gave curt commands but stayed mostly silent.

Warren took flight and decided to give himself some distance above the parking lots to see if he noticed anything.

Suddenly, Kitty came over the com. “Shadowcat here. I've just phased past security. I've managed to hide inside one the cars here in Parking Lot C. Heavy police presence.”

Wolverine's voice came over the speaker. “Report, Shadowcat.”

“I have visual of...” She paused for a moment. He could hear her hesitation. “the car. It's been flagged and taped off along with four or five other vehicles.”

“What's the situation there?” Warren couldn't tell if Wolverine sounded angry or desperate.

When Kitty came back on the radio, her voice was hitched. “It looks like someone laid out a couple hundred bullets into the thing.” Warren took a deep breath and held it.

There was silence on the line. Suddenly Remy's voice came over the line. “Gambit in de security building now. Dey have surveillance cameras throughout, homme. If Shadowcat can get into de system, we have a better look, non?  Between us and de police, every inch of dis campus been covered already, comprends?  More looking on foot  -- dat’s just wasting time les filles don’t have.”

Finally Wolverine answered. “Get over there, Shadowcat. Get all the footage. And I do mean all of it. Every last camera, you hear?”

“On my way,” she answered. “Give me five minutes, Gambit. Try and clear out the room with the mainframe in it. I can download everything from there with minimal interruption.”

“Oui. Gambit do dis,” the Cajun answered.

“Keep a look out, Angel. As soon as you get it, everyone back to the Bird.”

“I understand,” Warren answered, followed by Remy's affirmation.

He came back down some to look at the havoc beneath him. Hundreds of bullets? How many men had they sent?

XXX

Ororo was never one to make assumptions. It was a quality in which she took a fair amount of pride. When she'd first noticed Logan's growing attraction to Rogue, she'd reserved making any judgments. While others made vulgar commentaries about his intentions, she'd thought somewhat differently.

Logan was a strange creature, difficult to read, difficult to understand. He was instinctive and brutal. Not much passed his notice. He had an animal wildness to him that required a release of energy in forms of violence. She suspected his history of being tormented in a lab had a good deal to do with that.

His instincts weren't only towards fighting, but towards...other aspects as well. Female companionship, especially. He enjoyed the company of women in his bed, if only for a couple of hours at a time and with a wide variety. No one could deny his...attractiveness. But his soul was much to unquiet for her taste.

Through it all, through all his less-than-clean track record, there was one thing that had been absolute with Logan.  When he chose to put his trust in something, in someone, he put all of himself into it. She'd seen it from the very beginning. First with Rogue and then with Jean.

He'd given his life for Rogue. Under no assurance of resurrection, he'd given all of himself to her so that she might live. He'd chosen to give his trust to Jean as well, along with a good piece of his heart. He'd given her everything too. He'd answered her pleas for him to save her the only way she could be saved. He'd destroyed a woman he loved so that she wouldn't suffer.

Yes, if there was one thing Ororo Monroe was absolutely sure of, it was the infallibility of Logan's honor. He was not capable of hurting Rogue. If he'd been merely attracted to her, he wouldn't have taken one step in that direction with her.

But she watched him struggle, watched him wait. It was eating him up. When she realized that something had happened between them, shortly after the accident, she wasn't at all shocked. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. The way he was with her -- the gentleness, the intensity, it was magical to watch.

He had given his love to Jean.

He gave his soul to Rogue.

Waiting here on the Blackbird, thinking about that bond, she was truly frightened for him. They didn't know what had happened to the girls. The very idea that they could already be gone, never to return...Ororo wasn't sure if it wouldn't actually kill him.

She listened to their small group as they reported back to one another. When Kitty had gone off to find the main network to get the security footage, Ororo scrambled to the back of the jet where their computer system was housed and started turning on machines. Kitty would need all this running and ready when she returned to the jet and they needed to see those tapes as soon as possible.

She listened through her headphones as Kitty reported back, step by step, her progress.

“Almost there. Downloading now.” Her voice was strained but calm. They all knew a good deal about computers and networks, but Kitty was astounding at any system. She was better than even Scott had been.

After booting up all the systems Ororo hurried back to the front of the plane to monitor the local authorities, making sure they hadn't spotted the jet.

Kitty's voice crackled through. “Got it! I'm heading back to the jet now. ETA...ten minutes maybe.”

Logan's voice followed only a second later. “Make it five, Shadowcat.”

She made it back in six, Logan climbing into the jet behind her. Kitty threw herself into the seat at the back and shoved the data stick into their computer, hands already flying across the keyboard.

“Give me a sec to upload these files.” She started mumbling to herself. “Need multiple screens. Where's the damn floor plan file?”

Logan stood, arms crossed, eyes staring at the screen as different windows flew across it. When Remy and Warren came climbing into the jet, Ororo stood. “Warren, would you mind...”

He jogged up to the front. “I don't mind, 'Ro. Go ahead.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. She was on edge. She needed to know where her girls were. She thought of them that way; the three of them. She felt a great deal of affection for the three of them, Jubilee, Rogue, and Kitty. They were so strong even so young. They threw themselves into this cause without a thought to their own lives. They reminded her of...herself.

When she got to the back, Logan was grumbling about how damn long it was taking. Kitty was flying through screen after screen looking for the right files. “I'm going as fast as I can, Logan.” She bit her lip. “Here!” She highlighted a group of files and opened them up. “What time were their exams? I can look at the parking lot camera right before that to see them arrive. Then we can follow and see what happened.”

“Eight. They were running late though. Probably got there just in time.” Logan supported one hand against the desk, leaning in to get a closer look at the screen.

“Let's pull it up at ten of, then,” Kitty muttered.

The picture came up and she focused in on the area where the car had been. She fast forwarded and they watched as cars filled the lot across the black and white screen.

“There,” Logan said, pointing at the car.

Kitty played the tape and they watched as the car quite quickly pulled into the spot and Jubilee and Rogue spilled out, clearly in a rush. They scurried across the parking lot, Jubilee stopping to talk to a gathering of young men.

Rogue returned to drag her along. 'Ro's heart contracted. So normal, she thought. Everything was so calm, they suspected nothing.

They fast forwarded two hours and looked for the crowd exiting the building. At the right spot they watched as people filed out through the rain, rushing to their cars.

Jubes and Rogue left the building, stopping under the overhang to pull on gloves and hoods. They began to splash quickly through the rain, weaving through the cars in the parking lot.

Ororo noted when Jubilee slowed, occupied by something in her pocket. Keys, maybe? As she searched, a man stepped out of a Jeep, armed with some sort of automatic rifle. She hadn’t noticed yet. She began to run towards the car again. Something caught her attention. She stopped suddenly. He said something and she brought her hands up by her sides.

Rogue, who had made it to the car, turned looking for her, unaware of the situation with the downpour making it difficult to see. She stopped as well when she realized what was happening. And then there was a second and a third man, stepping out of another Jeep, behind Rogue. She turned and for a moment, they all stood, apparently discussing the situation.

Logan was growling low in his throat, his eyes staring at the screen.

Ororo found herself caught up in the story playing out in front of them. “What’s happening?”

Kitty shook her head. “With no audio, all we can do is wait and see.”

Suddenly, Jubilee’s hands sparked to life. Grey-white light flashed across the screen and everything happened at once.

CHAPTER 23 - The Whole Point of View: Part II

Remy was grinding his back teeth as he watched the screen. His little ball of fire had sent fireworks in every direction, distracting the men long enough for her and Rogue to throw themselves to the ground behind cars before the air clouded with smoke and bullets.

“Merde!” It was all-out havoc as men climbed from the two Jeeps, circling around the cars.

“Where the hell are they?” Wolverine was squinting at the screen, trying to see where either of the two girls had gone. The angle didn’t allow for a good view between cars. “Come on, come on...”

“There,” Ororo exclaimed, pointing to a figure at the bottom corner low crawling across the wet asphalt.

“Dat is Jubilee,” Remy said. She moved along the ground in a frantic hurry to get away.  They held a collective breath as a man came around the corner and she shoved herself under the car.

The man squatted, looking under and between vehicles. It was hard to see what she was doing, but he was getting closer and Remy found himself talking out loud to her.

“Move, chère!”

She couldn’t see him and he was getting closer. Suddenly her body jerked to the other side of the car where their line of sight was obscured.

Logan focused on the corner. “There’s a shadow over here, moving off screen. Pride, can you track it?”

Kitty’s hands moved over the keyboard and the the view switched to a different angle of the parking lot.

There they were, both girls. Rogue was dragging Jubes out from the other end of the car and they continued to crawl along the ground.

Thinking they were far enough away, they got to their feet, keeping to a crouch and moving along the line of cars. They were spotted by one of the men and the shots slammed into the car behind them as they flew forward, using another car as cover.

Remy felt his heart falter. Jubilee was on the floor, Rogue frantically covering her with her body. “Dis where she was shot, yeah?” he asked tightly.

Rogue got to her feet, dragging Jubilee behind her as they broke free of the cars and ran for the trees at the edge of campus. People were running every which way and it was hard to keep track of them. More shots and bodies fell to the ground.

“They’re shooting into the crowd?” Ororo said in horror.

Logan’s fists slammed into the desk. “Don’t lose them, Pride.”

Kitty scrambled for a different view. “Stupid files are lined up wrong...”

Remy noticed their figures and pointed. “Les petites are going into dat building. De lecture hall.”

Rogue was half dragging Jubes up the steps and his heart picked up speed. She was hurt, his firecracker.

XXX

Logan couldn’t fucking believe what he was seeing. They were actually shooting into crowds of people to get to them, to get to Marie.

Kitty jumped when Remy pointed out the lecture hall. “There’s a camera in there. It had audio. They’d use it for recording lectures as well as for security purposes.” She brought up a few screens, changing networks.

The screen came to life and they saw the large room come into focus in actual color. The camera was in the back of the room the main entrance towards the front right corner. They heard the sounds of gunfire as the doors came crashing open, Rogue and Jubilee plowing through the doors.

Logan’s heart skipped a beat at their appearance. Their hair was wet and plastered to their heads and faces, their clothing stained and ripped from being dragged across the asphalt.

“Can you focus in any, Pride?” His voice was tight.

She brought the focus in as the girls turned and slammed the doors closed, locking it. A breath and they flew into action.

“What the hell was that?” Jubes screamed as she staggered to the teacher’s desk.

Marie moved to the other side and they dragged it to the door. She was breathing heavily. “I don’t know,” were her only words. They were tight and clipped.

Logan could hear the barely-controlled panic in her voice. She’s scared. The knowledge brought a snarl to his mouth. He wasn’t accustomed to watching her like that.

He noticed a scrape along her cheekbone. Her breaths were coming fast and furious. She was so worked up she actually groaned every time she heaved the desk a bit closer to the door.

Jubes was having trouble. When they finally got the desk into place, she sagged against the wall.

Rogue fell to her knees in front of her friend. “Let me see it.”

“They fucking shot me!” was Jube’s incredulous reply.

Marie pushed at her shoulder and Jubes bit back a scream.

“It went straight through,” Marie said. She leaned back and pulled off her jacket,  ripping off the sleeve.

Logan noted her thin cotton shirt was as drenched as the rest of her. He also noticed the almost imperceptible shaking of her body. They had dragged their bodies through icy water and sleet in the middle of December. They were running the risk of hypothermia.

Marie wrapped Jube’s arm and tied a severe knot to quench the bleeding. Jubes jumped and cursed.

“Easy, chica! You’re going to permanently damage my arm that way.”

Marie snorted. “At least it’s not your writing hand.”

“I’m left handed!” Jubes wailed dramatically.

Marie snorted. “I guess you’re screwed, then.”

Logan felt like he was dying. There they were, having been shot at by gun-wielding men, and still managing to keep it together. He knew Marie was strong. He was starting to see Jubilee in a similar light too. She could hold her shit together. They had to get through this.

Jubes got to her feet and looked around. “We gotta get to a phone, girl.”

He noticed when Marie stood, her shaking became more noticeable. He cringed.

“Yeah,” she said through chattering teeth.

Jubes turned from her position checking out the doors and looked at her.

“Jeez, your lips are turning blue, girl. Here...” She tried to unbutton her jacket. “Your coat wasn’t waterproof, mine was. Take mine before you...”

Logan saw both girl’s freeze as a voice came through the door. “Blood trail leads in here, boss. I knew I got the Asian one.”

Jubes looked down at her arm as a high pitched whine started.

“Is dat...?” Remy started next to him.

“Explosive!” Logan said with alarm. The girls looked at each other, apparently realizing the same thing. They threw themselves to the floor as an explosion ripped and splintered the door.

Smoke enveloped the room for endless moments. Logan frantically searched the screen for their forms. He knew in his head that Jubes had called after this, which meant they had survived. But he couldn’t keep the feeling of panic that took over him.

Three men climbed in over the desk, guns in hand. More fireworks flew through the air and they dropped their guns with yelps of pain and anger.

They were covered in black clothing, including gloves. For Marie, Logan thought desperately. To grab her without getting hurt.

One of them bent down to retrieve the weapon only to curse vividly. “Melted, boss.”

The second man directed them to look around as the dust finally settled. “Find them.”

They were met with another rain of fireworks before they could look any further. They  backed up and Logan suddenly saw Jubes reach behind the one near the door, jerking him back with her good arm and slamming his head against the desk.

“Dat’s my girl!” Remy said through heaving breaths.

The man slumped to the ground. They turned to her and then Marie came back into frame. “Get to a phone,” she yelled before landing a piece of wood on the back of one of them. He fell to his knees and she went to follow Jubes.

Logan snarled as the one in charge grabbed her around the waist and threw her to the ground easily. Jubes faltered, turning away from the door to help.

“Go,” Marie yelled. She rose to her feet and threw a punch as Jubilee climbed out the door.

This is where their knowledge of events ended. This is where Jubes had called, only knowing this part. Logan felt a terrifying horror grip his soul.

He watched helplessly as the man easily grabbed her arm and swung her around. The second man, the one she’d clobbered with the wood stood and wrapped his arm around her neck.

Logan gripped the desk in fury. She fought furiously and they jerked around the room as the man holding her tried to keep her under control. She turned her chin into his arm and leaned forward, breaking the choke. She used her opposite arm to elbow the man in the ribs. He let out a grunt of surprise as she took hold of his arm and flipped him onto his back, heaving his considerable weight with a grunt of her own.

Logan felt a feral smile come to his face as she locked his arm into place with her leg and jammed it down to splinter the humerus. The man screamed in agony.

Her victory was short-lived, however, as the man who’d directed the other two snatched her up again and threw her into the desk.

Her wet hair swung around in dark locks and she shoved it out of her face as she quickly rose to her feet.

Logan gripped the table as the man started to talk to her. “Marie D’Ancanto, is it?”

She was visibly taken aback. Beyond a widening of her eyes though, the only reaction she had was to widen her stance and raise her arms in defense.

“We’ve been hunting for you for awhile now.” He chuckled. “You’re an elusive little thing, aren’t you?” He cracked his knuckles. “Finally tracked you down to that school. You realize we’ve been trailing you for a month? Waiting for that man you’re always with to leave you alone?” Logan growled. “Finally got to follow you this week without interruption.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. The man was trying to bait her.

“You could just surrender,” the man crooned. “I get half a million more if I bring you in alive.”

And there it was. The bounty on her head was set high, dead or alive. This man didn’t look like he cared either way. Logan snarled.

She did nothing but set her fists. Logan’s chest filled with pride.

He circled her. “I was curious to meet the little mutey that made Old Worthington cave on his moral standings.” He laughed. “You should be proud. The man never took out a bounty on any other mutant. You must be a prize indeed.” He leered. “With that shirt sticking to you the way it does, I can tell you’d be one hell of a ride, sweetheart.”

Logan felt the animal rise within him. He wanted to reach into that screen and eviscerate the shitface.

Marie moved along the room, countering each of  his steps with one of her own. Her breath was steady, but her body still shook from the cold that had seeped into her bones.

He lunged.

Logan’s heart stopped as she dodged and went to punch him in the gut. He caught her arm and twisted her around, slamming her up against the wall.

“Oh, my,” he laughed into her ear. “You’ve been trained.” He pushed her head into the wall viciously. She slammed her head back, catching his chin. It gave her the opportunity to lift her leg against the wall and heave with all her strength. They fell back to the floor.

Logan felt himself bare his teeth in response to his mate’s fight. He suffered through watching this nightmare unfold by encouraging her from the future. “Come on, darlin’...That’s it, Marie.”

They grappled on the floor, each looking to get the upper hand. The man was twice her size. But Logan knew first hand how much force his girl could pack.

She grunted and groaned through moves he’d taught her, avoiding each of the man's locks and pins.

He saw her reach for his face twice. Each time, the man quickly deflected and laughed. “You think I don’t know about your skin, sweetheart?” He ground his knee into her shoulder and she screamed in pain.

Wolverine roared in fury.

Storm flinched and turned away. Remy cursed colorfully.

The man grabbed a handful of her hair and hauled her up to her feet. She struggled to turn and he punched her across the face, hard. She landed on the floor with a sickening thud. Her body automatically jerked to stand up and then faltered. She flopped back down with a cry of pain.

“Get up,” Logan commanded. He couldn’t breathe past the fear clogging his chest.

She struggled to move, probably disoriented from the blow. The man sighed. “You’re good. Really good. Who trained you? That boyfriend of yours? I’d love to go up against him.”

Logan felt a similar desire. He’s show the man a thing or two.

The man leered at her. “He teach you how to fuck, too, sweetheart?”

She glared up at him.

“Obviously he’s got military training. But there’s a little bit of down and dirty in there, as well.” He smirked. “I’m impressed.”

She stood and readied herself again. Her hands shook visibly. Logan felt the bile rise in his throat.

The man smiled encouragingly. “You’ve got spirit, sweetheart.”

They engaged again. She held him off for quite a few combinations before he dropped her again with a laugh.

“I give credit where it’s due. You have good muscle memory. Very smooth. But you hesitate. And your timing’s off.”

Logan growled. He’d told her that twenty times in the last month alone. The fucking asshole was drawing this out. He was having fun with her.  Logan’s blood boiled. He’d hunt the man down and feed him his own testicles. He was a dead-man-walking.

Remy spoke quietly next to him. “Remy is afraid de Rogue is tiring quickly.”

“Shut the fuck up, LeBeau,” Logan snapped. He turned back to the screen and watched as she struggled once again to her feet. Blood ran down her nose and mouth. Logan’s stomach lurched.

She was heaving for breath and shaking violently now. Shock had set in. But Rogue would die fighting. Logan hadn’t fallen in love with someone who gave up. He toppled her easily this time, kicking her in the chest. The air left her lungs with an agonizing cry and Logan felt his eyes sting painfully at the beating she was taking.

She fell to the ground onto one knee, facing away from the man, obviously trying to regain her breath.

The man raised his hands. “I’m all for learning though. Tell me. What do you think? I know my angles are probably off. I never was one to worry about positioning. But I’ve done pretty well.” He walked up to her, obviously comfortable in his dominance. “Go ahead, Marie. Let me have it.” He waited.

She was faltering. And Logan saw the second her body sagged in defeat. “No!” He watched in absolute horror as the man shrugged and took out a knife.

“Don’t give up, darlin’...Marie, get up and find the damn hit!” She had to get up. She just had to get up.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s hear it.” The man walked up behind her and unsheathed the knife. “Have it your way.”

Logan reached out to the screen as if he could grab her. Time stopped.

The man reached the knife around to her throat.

She came to life. She turned and jerked, twisting free of the hand with the knife. He faltered and took a step back before pushing her back down.

“There!” Logan called out to her, as if she could hear him.

And in his mind she did. Because she pushed up from the ground with an animalistic scream of fury, jamming her hand up to collide with his face. With a sickening crunch, the heel of her palm met with his nose. Blood exploded from his face as shards of the broken nose splintered up and into his brain.

He fell backwards onto the ground, dead.

A roar of triumph exploded from Logan's chest. Kitty and ‘Ro gasped in relief. Remy’s jaw fell open in disbelief.

He could barely contain himself as he watched her stagger. She was gulping down oxygen and trying to stay upright. She stared down at the man.

Logan was momentarily stunned when she kicked the man’s leg in rage.

“You talk too much!” she shouted at him.

Logan felt a ridiculous laugh burst from his chest.

His relief was short-lived though. Her strength evaporated, the adrenaline of the fight finally wearing off. She collapsed against the wall, sagging to the floor.

CHAPTER 24 - A Different Point of View

Jubilee ran down the hall, gripping her shoulder in an attempt to keep it from getting jostled by her uneven gait.

“Of all the ways to start out a damn vacation...” she muttered.

She’d been really looking forward to going clubbing with the girls this break. She needed a damn distraction from her sleepless nights. She’d been able to convince Kitty easily enough. She was always game for some fun. But Rogue...she’d been a real hard nut to crack. Finally Jubilee had managed a hesitant yes out of the girl and she had this Saturday all set up at a fantastic club downtown.

And now here she was, limping down the hall like the damn Hunchback of Notre Dame and practically bleeding out. And Rogue....well damn, she was back there probably handing out an ass-kicking that would make the Wolverine proud. She groaned inwardly. She was going to have to listen to them go at it again tonight. They always got it on after missions. And while this wasn’t exactly a mission...it probably counted.

She found a hall with phone booth slots and practically jumped in glee. She hobbled over and froze. The phones had been removed. They’d probably taken them since no one uses the disgusting germ-riddled gum-depositories anymore; not with cell phones having made them obsolete.

“Aw, come on, man.” This was just not her day. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself. Hadn’t her daily horoscope told her to put on a few extra strokes of deodorant as it would be a stressful day? She should have stayed home. Exam be damned.

She hobbled away, gritting her teeth at the unbelievable throb in her shoulder. Her fingers were going numb, probably from the noose Rogue had tied around her arm. There were bathrooms down the hall a bit...maybe there’d be phones.

She pushed on, promising herself a bubblebath of epic proportions, maybe with Remy giving her a good back rub.  He’d need to be naked, of course. She’d work out the details later. Right now she needed to locate a damn phone.

Some people ran by, wailing and screaming like banshees. She stared after them in horror. If being ‘normal’ meant those were the reactions you had, she was glad she was a damn mutant. She shoved aside the little voice that told her she envied that kind of ignorance.

She heard some crying and hysterical blabbering down near the bathrooms. When she turned the corner, she stopped and stared in utter disgust. Yet another wailing female. This one crying into the pay phone.

“Oh, God. Please, please. Come and get me. Please...they’re shooting guns. I’m covered in blood. I can’t die like this...I haven’t told my boyfriend about the guy I slept with...I haven’t...”

Jubilee flinched and gagged. What a drama queen! She wasn’t going to listen to another word.

“Hey, Lady Macbeth! Need the phone, here.” She stumbled over, feeling the blood loss starting to make her hazy again. Apparently, the girl didn’t hear her. Jubilee was in no mood to be patient.

She grabbed the phone from the girl’s hand and shoved her aside all with her uninjured half. The girl stumbled dramatically and wailed in dismay.

“I’m on the phone with the police! Trying to get help...”

Jubilee slammed the receiver down.

“...What are you doing? Are you crazy? That was the police you just hung up on!  Who would you need to call that’s more important than the police?”

Jubes pointed at her wet and stringy hair. In her most sarcastic Valley Girl impersonation she stated, “Obviously...I’m, like, going to have to move up my salon appointment. I can’t go out like this.”

Jubes rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, rifling through her pocket. Pulling out a quarter, she shoved it in the slot.  When nothing happened she growled in anger.

Looking at the instructions she balked.

“Thirty-five cents! When did it become thirty-five cents? It used to be a quarter! Who the hell carries around a quarter and a dime?” she grumbled as she dug for more change. She managed to find two nickels and slammed them in.

Finally, a dial tone. She punched in the number.

The girl was crying hysterically again. Jubes sighed and rolled her eyes. Her shoulder was fucking killing her.

At the second ring, the line picked up. Jubilee felt her heart falter in relief.

“Yes?”

Was that...? “Kit Cat?” She felt suddenly like crying.

A pause. Then, “Jubes?”

“Girl, we're in some serious shit over here.” She was panting while she spoke into the phone, her shoulder wound sapping all her energy.

“What's going on?”

The freaking drama queen was blubbering and babbling now, going on about not wanting to die. Jubes ground her teeth.

“We're at the college. We got ambushed. There were a mess of guys waiting for us.” Her voice was shaking. “They’re psychos, Kit. They shot up half the parking lot. I caught one in shoulder but Rogue is good so far.”

“You're hurt?” Jubes heard the panic in Kitty’s voice.

“Not bad, babe. You know me. I get out of everything.”

She heard the automated message come to life. “Please...deposit...twenty-five...cents.”

“Fuck,” Jubes muttered. She turned to the girl, who was now hiccuping in between sobs. “You got a quarter or something?”

The girl blinked stupidly at her. Jubes turned back to the conversation. “We got separated. Rogue's still back there fighting off some shitheads. Made me go find this damn payphone...”

And there it was again. “Please...deposit...twenty-five...cents.”

“I need a damn quarter!” She shouted at the girl who fumbled through her pockets. “Thank fucking God I had some change in my pocket.”

The drama queen held out a trembling hand, and Jubes looked down at the penny in it.  Useless dingbat.  “Shit.”

“Ok. Listen. Tell me exactly where you are. Quick. We ca...”

“Please...deposit...twenty-five...cents.”

“Damn.” Jube's said. “It keeps asking for more money. I don't have...”

The line went dead.

She gripped the phone and stared at it.

“What’s the matter?” the crying girl hiccuped.

Jubes snapped.  She slammed the receiver into the base repeatedly, as hard as she could with her right arm.

“Stupid...fucking...piece of shit...I want...to go...home!”

Energy spent, she looked back at the girl. She was cowering in the corner staring at her as if she’d gone crazy.

Jubilee sneered at her. “Oh, like you’re any better.”

She turned and stormed off with as much grace as she could muster.

XXX

Jubes carefully looked around the corner of the lecture hall. It was quiet. Which could be good...or really really bad.

The man she’d slammed down onto the edge of the table still lay there, blood dripping from his nose. A little further, another man was passed out, his arm twisted in the most disgusting way. Damn, girl.

She stumbled in and looked around.  There.  Jubes scrambled over debris to the body of the third man. His eyes were open and vacant. Dead. But other than a rather crushed-looking nose, nothing else was wrong with him.

Jubilee’s eyes scanned the room, frantically looking for Rogue. If she’d absorbed that much of him...

“Rogue?” she asked desperately.

“Here.” The pained whisper came from behind some desks. Jubilee clambered over, cursing at the stinging pain in her shoulder. She reached Rogue’s slumped form and knelt down in front of her.

Jubes sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“Damn, girl.. What happened to you?”

Her face was bloodied and bruised. There was swelling around her neck. She was still wet from head to toe and shivering. Hair clung to her face in a tangled mess. “Got my ass handed to me,” she said through a grimace.

“And you won?”

Rogue laughed hoarsely. “You should see the other guy...”

Jubes snorted. “I did. Man, just wait ‘til Logan gets a look at you.”

Marie groaned and tried to sit up. “We got to get out of here.”

“You’re pretty messed up, girl. I don’t know if you should move.”

“Those guys might wake up any second,” Rogue stressed. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t have another fight like that in me.”

Jube’s bit her lip and sighed. “There are some restrooms down the hall a bit. We can lock ourselves in there ‘til things calm down some.”

Rogue nodded. “Help me up, Sparky.”

“Now, don’t start that shit. Only Wolvester gets to call me that.”  Jubes heaved as best she could with her good hand, helping her get to her shaky feet. “Soon as we get home...shit...soon as Logan gets you on that jet...he’s gonna be expecting you to pull that handy mutation of his. I get to heal the old fashioned way. Have some damn pity.”

“Not likely,” a voice said dryly from the entrance.

Jubes’s head jerked up and she felt her heart sink.  Four more men stood at the entrance of the room, guns pointed at them.  She felt Rogue stiffen beside her.

A grey-haired man looked down at the three forms on the floor. “I’m impressed Ms. D’Ancanto.”

Rogue glared.

Jubes looked around and brought up her hands, calling up the vibrations of electricity.

She felt a bullet rip through her shoulder again, the sound resonating through the large room. The floor flew up to meet her back, her head thumping on the floor soundly.

“Jubes,” Rogue cried, falling to the floor next to her.

Pain swarmed her as hot liquid pooled down her chest and back. She screamed as much in anger as in pain. “You gotta be kidding me!”

“Oh, God,” Marie said as she frantically held her hand over the wound. Jubes could barely see. The world was fading.

A man came into view above them and pointed a gun at her face. Oh, man.

“No!” Rogue screamed. Holding up a blood soaked hand. “I’ll go with you! I”ll go!”

The man smiled. “No more fighting?”

“No more fighting,” She promised. “Just...leave her here. Let me stop the bleeding and leave her here.”

He grinned down at Jubes. “You’re a lucky girl.”

“Fuck you!” Jubes ground out.

He chuckled and turned to Rogue. “You have sixty seconds.”

Rogue nodded and stumbled over to one of the downed men. Ripping off a chunk of cloth, she rushed back over and began tying a tourniquet. Jubilee grabbed her shaking hands. “Don’t...” Rogue ignored her. “I mean it, Rogue. Don’t. You fight every last one of those jerks.”

Rogue glared at her. “Stop being noble and let me get this bleeding under control.”

Jubes laughed and then coughed. “Who’s the one being all noble, girl? I’m not the one handing myself over.”

Rogue’s lips pressed together. A few seconds of her working furiously and then she stopped and looked at her. “You’re my girl, Jubes. You know that?”

Jubes felt tears cloud her already blurring vision. “Yeah.”

“Do me a favor, huh?” Jubes nodded. “Tell him I love him.”

“Tell him yourself when we come and get you,” Jubes wheezed out. There was no way this was going to stand. She may be down for the count but she knew her man Wolverine.

Rogue smiled tightly and whispered, “I’m countin’ on it.”

Two men dragged her off and left Jubilee in the room alone, clinging to consciousness.

CHAPTER 25 - Labels

The blindfold was ripped off her head by unknown hands. After so long in the dark, the bright lights were glaringly painful. Marie squinted to see the people around her.

They’d led her into a cinder block room, that’s the first thing she was able to discern. There were, three -- no, four men crowded around, all of them in head-to-toe coverings. Her hands were in shackles behind her back. They were painfully uncomfortable with no links leaving room for her shoulder muscles to relax.

When the room finally came into focus, she tried to stay calm. One of the men, a younger guy in a lab coat, came up and grabbed her chin with a gloved hand. She pulled away angrily. He didn’t seem to care. He grabbed her again and wrenched her face to the side, looking over her scrapes and bruises.

“Some abrasions, contusions. Nothing too serious.” He flashed a light over her eyes. “Pupils a bit dilated. Maybe a minor concussion. Nothing to be worried about.” He clicked the light off. “Get her cleaned up and labeled.”

She grunted in pain as one of them lifted her by the arm, straining her muscles even more.

“Easy there, tiger,” she said. “That how you treat a lady?”

He smirked and leaned in slightly. “You’re not a lady. You’re nothing but an animal. A dirty, filthy animal.”

She snapped at him, just to watch him flinch. He did, and she smiled wickedly. “Maybe I’m rabid too. Wanna get close enough to find out?”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Get moving,” he said as he shoved her forward.

She tried to calm her nerves. She tried to reassure herself that the bounty on her head, her ‘living’ head, was higher than her dead one. It gave her some leeway. They wouldn’t outright kill her if they didn’t have too. She had time to come up with a way out, then.

How long had it been since they’d picked her up? At least a day and night. She was exhausted, but hadn’t dared fall asleep in the SUV they’d packed her in for fear that she’d miss something she needed to know.

Two of them dragged her to large bare room -- it looked like a locker room, with various showers heads and drains. A few bars of soap lay around, looking like they might leave someone dirtier than before. One of the men shoved her in, while the other stood guard by the door. The man who seemed to be enjoying pushing her around uncuffed her hands and pointed the gun at her head.

“Towels and clothing on the bench. Get showered and changed.”

She looked at the pile. A white towel was tossed unceremoniously along with some clothing that didn’t include socks or shoes. She looked at them, waiting.

“Go on...get showered,” he said again.

She stared at him with a level look. “You gonna give a girl some privacy?”

He snorted. “Nothing I ain’t seen before, baby.”

“Now, I’m baby?” she sneered. “What happened to me bein’ a filthy animal? Or do I suddenly become human when you wanna get off bein’ a voyeuristic freak.”

He reached out and shoved her into the stall. “I said get fucking showered!”

She set her jaw. “I’d rather stay filthy, thanks.”

He cocked his gun. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“All that effort to catch me and you’re gonna kill me now?” She asked in an amused voice.

“Five seconds,” he counted. “Four.”

She turned and grabbed the towel.

“You’ve made your damn point.”

She walked over to the shower and pulled at her shirt. It stuck to her skin where blood had dried. She hissed when some of her scabs peeled off. She could see him staring avidly at her. She rolled her eyes in disgust. Damn pervert.

She stripped her shoes and pants off, feeling his roving eyes on her skin.

She turned the water on, pushing her hand under the spray, and waited. She sighed. It wasn’t going to warm up.

“Fuck,” she muttered. She peeled off her bra and panties. She heard his intake of breath.

She turned and stared at him. “Beastiality a real turn-on for ya, sugah?” she drawled icily.

She brought her eyes down to the bulge in his pants and raised her brows. “Seems so.”

He cursed and struggled for words. “Just get going.”

She glared daggers at him and rinsed herself as best as she could, shivering violently from the icy water. She looked at the floor as red water pooled down the drain. Blood. Hers, Jubes’s, that man she’d killed in the fight...? Impossible to tell at this point.

She used her hands to scrub and scrape away the filth of dirty snow and asphalt, refusing to use the soap that looked like it might give her some sort of flesh-eating bacteria.

When the water ran clean, she shut it off and grabbed the towel, trying to dry herself off gently. Her bruises and scrapes stung madly.

She yanked at the clothing on the bench as she watched the two men gaping at her. She felt the need to push her luck and called up someone she never thought she’d want to hear from again. He gave her what she needed.

“Why don’t you needle-dick assholes shove it in each others’ ears?”

The guard at the door snorted and leered. “I can think of a better place to put it.”

“Your mom’s not here right now, sugah,” she spat.

He tensed. “That’s a load of shit to be falling from such a pretty mouth.”

Big Sam didn’t fail her. “And you’re one load your mama should’a swallowed.”

He started in her direction, fury rippling through his face. “You fucking cunt!”

She smiled secretly. A little closer.

The man closer to her jerked his hand out in warning. “Hey, man. Remember what Doc said about her skin? Don’t get too close!”

Marie’s heart sank. Damn. She could have gotten a hold of that gun.

She pulled at the clothing they’d supplied her with. A pair of worn scrubs and a white shirt. No underwear, no socks, no shoes, no bra....

“Stylish,” she said sarcastically.

XXX

She walked with both guards behind her down the passageway. They hadn’t put the shackles back on, so she kept her arms crossed in front of her, rubbing them for heat. Her bare feet were numb from the icy floor beneath her.

“Turn here,” one of them said. “To the right.”

She stepped through a set of doors and stopped, staring around her.

Three men dressed head to toe. Two men in lab coats. All waiting for her. An exam table with restraints sat at the ready, while other tables with trays of instruments were scattered around the room. Oh, God.

And suddenly, Logan’s voice came roaring to life. It was so sudden, so shocking, she wasn’t prepared. He’d never said more than two words to her before. Now...

RUN! he snarled. Fight and get out!

She turned and threw herself back towards the door. Covered arms grabbed her and dragged her back. She screamed.

“Nooo!”

Old memories of being cut, being sliced open bombarded her mind. Her body jerked violently against the hands, throwing herself as hard as she could. More hands grabbed and she was picked up.

His voice was so loud in her head, she wasn’t sure it was even her screaming.

“No! No! Let go!”

She was on the table, being strapped down. She wanted to cry, to hysterically break down. The guards were moving back now, as the doctors moved in.

“Worthington Lab wants a few tissue samples ready for when they arrive for pick-up,” one of them said.

The other nodded and grabbed some Betadine. He pulled up her shirt sleeve and began swabbing her skin. His eyes caught the glint of metal on her skin. He reached out and picked up her pendant, looking closely at it. He snorted and yanked savagely, breaking it off and turning to throw it in the trash. He went back to rubbing the solution onto her skin.

Logan’s voice changed. A gentle whisper in her ear.

Close your eyes, darlin’. She obeyed, her breath coming in shaky pants. Don’t look.

She felt the tears run down into her hair as she jerked her head away from the arm the doctor was marking with a blue pen. “Don’t leave me alone,” she begged.

Never.

XXX

She was sweating and shaking as they pulled her up. Her eyes were red and raw from the tears she hadn’t even attempted to hold back. Her body wouldn’t stop convulsing and she felt like she might throw up...again. Her shirt was already stained from the bile that had erupted in the middle of them peeling four-inch squares off her arms. She wasn’t sure how many.

One of the doctors moved to a cart and pulled open a drawer. “Class Four, Dr. Sanders?”

The other one checked his notes. “Yes. Class Four.” He looked down at her. “We might want to do some of our own tests before her pick up in the morning. Not too often we get one this strong.”

She clenched her eyes against the panic overtaking her.

He looked at his watch. “It’s early. Let’s get her labeled and registered. We can take more samples this evening.”

The doctor by the drawers pulled out some red cloth and walked back over. He hooked it up to a snap she hadn’t noticed on her sleeve. She stared at it, realization sinking in.

“Arm band,” she said.

The doctor snorted. “Yes, arm band. Good girl.” He looked up and jokingly said to the others, “We might actually have a smart one here.” The room filled with laughter.

Marie brought her eyes up to the man snapping a label on her. This was them. These were the people who had tossed so many people into a pit and left them to rot.

“There were children...” she said in disbelief.

He finished snapping the armband into place with a confused expression on his face. He smiled at the others. “Maybe not.” More laughs.

Dr. Sanders spoke up. “Enough.” He finished making notes on his clipboard and pushed the pen into the hole at the top. “Take her to the containment cell.”

XXX

She had expected to be in a small room, isolated from the world. She had actually looked forward to being left in peace so she could quickly and quietly fall apart. But the process of being registered took a painfully long time.

They marked her band with numbers and actually spent time getting her physical information: height, weight, a complete physical. She cringed and flinched back as they touched her.

They all had gloves on, and she started to wonder if they even knew she had control. She wasn’t going to give them that piece of the puzzle if they didn’t already have it. From the way they flinched at her every move, she was pretty sure they didn’t know. That suited her just fine.

A new guard came and grabbed her by the arms to drag her along the corridor. His fingers gripped the bandages over her torn skin.

He punched in some codes on the wall and they walked through yet another set of mysterious doors. They closed and the loud click of the lock sliding into place made her heart sink even more than it already had.

He pushed her down onto a bench. While he smiled disgustingly at her, another guard walked in with a clipboard, making some notes, not bothering to look up.

The guard next to her, heavier-set and smelling of fish, suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked. She yelped and felt some of her hair actually detach from her head.

He leaned down close and leered. “You’re kind of hot,” he breathed.

She stiffened.

The taller, leaner, guard filling out paperwork growled warningly. “Phillips.”

Phillips pulled her to her feet and was suddenly trying to lift her shirt.

“Let’s get a look at that fine rack, girl.” She jerked back violently.

The slimmer man stopped his writing and stared at him. After a second he said in a strained voice. “We’re not supposed to do that, Phillips.”

Phillips laughed. “Learn to have a little fun, Carver.” He pulled at her shirt again, this time pulling her in close.

She slammed his hand away defensively. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

“Ohhh, feisty.” He yanked her around. “You should give this one a go Carter. Might loosen you up some.”

Carter froze and looked up. He truly looked at her then for the first time, his eyes appraising. For a second a look flashed across those eyes. She could hardly see his face for the full body suit they were wearing around her. But his eyes. Something registered.

“What an intriguing idea,” he finally said, hanging the clipboard back up on the wall.

Phillips laughed. “Take her into cell D, man. You can restrain her on the table.”

And once again panic shot through every last vein. She jumped away and ran back to the door, but they grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back, pinning her hands painfully behind her back.

She kicked and struggled as they pushed her into a room with a table, Carter walking in after her. He called back to Phillips. “You got something I can use?”

Phillips laughed and pulled out a latex foil packet from his pocket, slipping it into the other man’s hand.

Marie felt blood rush into her head. Thoughts of Trip slammed into her, bringing her panic to its absolute limits.

Carter mumbled a thanks and closed the door, locking it behind him. She took a step back. “Unless you want a swift kick to the balls, I suggest you keep the hell away from me.” The threat was shaky, at best.

He was still staring at the door, listening for something. She waited, frozen in place. He finally turned to face her and her heart stopped.

He stared hard at her for moment, that look crossing his eyes again. And this time she could place it.

He recognized her.

He reached up and pulled the mask away. Dusty brown hair frazzled with friction stuck out in various directions. His beard was a bit long, but well-kept otherwise. Brown eyes stared in disbelief at her.

“Rogue, what are you doing here?”

She blinked as she recognized his face. “Detective Rogers?”

CHAPTER 26 - Cover

She wanted to say something, anything, but all she could do was open her mouth and then snap it shut again in confusion. Here, in the middle of hell, was someone she actually knew.

“Rogue?” He repeated. “What are you doing here?” He almost seemed mad at her, as if she had decided to borrow her old man’s car to go underage drinking at a bar.

And quite frankly, her presence made far greater sense than his did.

“Me?” She shook her head in disbelief. Bringing her hand up to gesture at him she said, “What about you, Detective Rogers?”

He looked around nervously. “Don’t say my name out loud, Rogue.” He checked the door, listening to see if Philips was eavesdropping. He turned back to her. “It’s a cover, Rogue. Here, I’m Carver.”

She drew her head back in complete bewilderment. “A cover?”

He sighed and, satisfied that there was no one at the door, walked back over. “I’m undercover as a guard. I’ve been here for four months.”

She drew her head back sharply. “With who?”

He scratched at his beard. “FBI.”

She didn’t get it. “But...you’re NYPD...”

He nodded. “Yeah, Narcotics. I’ve spent ten years going undercover trying to bust some major dealers in the city. ATF got a whiff of some major arms trafficking going on, with the same guys pushing some blackmarket Cure ammo we’ve been going after.  They wanted experience, so they pulled me in.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “This started off to try and bust some arms dealers...and now...it’s gotten so deep...I’m knee deep in this shit.” He spat his words out now with disgust. “It’s humans, too. Not just mutants. They’re just...selling people, trading them.”

She nodded. She’d been bought before they’d even caught her.

He looked at her, more closely now. “You’re hurt.” He came up and took her chin in his hand. She flinched a bit and he glared at her. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid.”

His words hit so close to home she suddenly felt tears burn at her eyes. “Sorry.”

He grabbed her chin again and turned her face from side to side. “Damn. They did a number on you.” She waited as he checked her bruises. His face was hard and unreadable. “Fucking bastards.”

She snorted. “That’s actually kinda sweet of you to say.”

He grumbled. “Can’t fucking handle any more of this shit.” He pulled away, rubbing his face and turning away. He walked a couple of steps, one hand on his hip, the other nervously rubbing his beard.

“What now?” she asked.

He turned and he looked utterly lost. “I’m undercover, Rogue.”

She felt the breath leave her lungs. “You’re not going to do anything, are you?”

He rubbed his face and stamped a foot. “Dammit.” He turned on her, raging. “What am I supposed to do? There’s literally dozens of people in this facility. I can’t blow my cover to save one when I’m trying to save all them too.”

She shook her head. “Call your men in.”

“They won’t come!” He said forcefully. “They aren’t going to jeopardize an entire operation for some woman I know. They’re waiting for names, connections, real information.”

She felt the rage build. “They peeled off my skin!” she hissed. He looked taken aback. She pushed back one of the bandages and showed him the large patch of meat. He flinched.

“Yeah, she said snidely. “It feels as bad as it looks.” His eyes moved up to hers. “They strapped me down to a table and peeled my skin off in blocks,” she spat. “No sedative, no remorse, no nothin’.”

“Rogue...”

She cut him off. “I’ve been leered at, felt up, and promised sexual assault more times in one hour than I was in the entire seven months I spent on the streets!”

He swallowed and she kept going. “And they find me so interestin’, in fact, that they plan on takin’ me back into that awful room to take more skin tonight!  And you know I’m not the only one it’s happenin’ to.” She felt the tears spill over. “All the people in here...” she stated. “They all have families, probably lookin’ for them. Wonderin’ where they are. Hopin’ to God they’re still alive.”

Her throat closed up and she was practically sobbing now. “He doesn’t even know where I am,” she said hysterically pointing out into space. “All he knows is that I’m gone and he doesn’t know where to find me and there’s a good chance I’m already dead or on my way to being dead. He knows what goes on in here and I can’t deal with him thinkin’ that’s what’s happenin’ to me.”

Detective Rogers stood motionless, stunned at her words. He worked his throat several times before he spoke. “I get off at midnight,” he said, checking his watch. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll see what I can do.”

She nodded.

XXX

By the next morning, she was huddled up on a cot, rough threadbare cotton sheets pulled tightly around her shivering body. She’d never been so cold in her life. Between having been drenched in sleet and snow during her capture and the freezing shower she’d been forced to take upon her arrival, she’d had no real opportunity to actually warm herself. Barefoot and with only a thin set of scrub pants and shirt, which were stained with her own vomit, she couldn’t stop the trembling in her limbs.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to close out the images of the past evening. Trying not to remember the way they painstakingly removed patches of skin from her back while she screamed in agony. She felt hot tears run down her face.

Logan’s soft voice had whispered soothingly to her the entire time, telling her it would be over soon, to hold on just a little longer.

She wanted to keep him strong, to let his warm rough voice loose in her mind. But she had to shut him away. Had to push him back. Voices, no matter how loving and sweet, were never good. And while he might break free during those agonizing moments on the table, he needed to go back into his box as soon as possible.

Her body jerked involuntarily at the sound of the door opening. She looked up and guards came in. She looked at their faces, but none of them was Rogers. When they picked her up, Dr. Sanders came in with his clipboard. “Transportation unit is here. Take her up to the truck.”

She let out a little cry of distress as they restrained her arms behind her back again and led her out.

She kept looking for him, wondering if he’d gone for help, but he was nowhere to be found. She cussed at the guard leading her, trying to jerk her hands away, and was rewarded with a knock to her head that made the world turn grey for a moment.  When her head cleared, she realized they had led her into some sort of container, hanging her from a hook in the ceiling by her bound hands. They closed the door, plunging her into darkness.  She fuzzily realized the crate was solid metal -- only a small amount of light filtered through a slit at the front.

She was too short for her feet to brace completely against the floor. It quickly became agonizing to hang there, the strain rubbing her wrists raw. She heard an engine come to life and suddenly realized she was in some kind of vehicle.

Her heart picked up speed when she heard a low growl coming from the other side of the container. She couldn’t see yet, her eyes not having adjusted to the near-total darkness. She looked around wildly when the growl turned into a chuckle.

“Taaaasty,” the voice crooned.

She jerked in surprise at the familiar voice she’d been subjected to that night and day before Liberty Island.

“You’re dead,” she whispered. “You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead.”

Her vision was clearing and she could make out the outlines of his figure. His long, stringy hair, his muscular build. Dread welled up inside of her as his black eyes focused on her.

The vehicle pulled forward and her body swayed with the movement.

“Creed,” she whispered.

XXX

It was a seriously long drive from Malone down to Westchester. Six straight hours as a matter of fact. He’d had to stop once to get gas and to empty his painfully full bladder at some rundown gas station midway.

He checked his mirrors, probably for the five hundredth time since leaving the gates of the containment center. Paranoia wouldn’t begin to cover the psychological fallout running through John Rogers’s brain. This was no doubt the fucking worst cover he’d ever taken.

He’d gone in assuming there would be nothing but a whole bunch of gun- and drug-pushing criminals to take down. He could handle that. He knew how to handle that. But when he’d walked into those rooms...seen what he’d seen...he’d never get another good night’s sleep again.

But he had a job to do. So he stayed and witnessed the torture, the degradation, the humiliation... telling himself the entire time that when this was over, he was going to put in for early retirement and head off to Fiji and never look back. Not ever.

Then he’d looked up to the unfortunate face of Phillips’s attentions and had almost swallowed his own tongue.

Rogue.

Her distinctive white streaks were a dead giveaway, but he’d found himself looking at her features, just to be sure. Her deep brown eyes, bowed lips, angled face. It was her. And damn if this entire operation hadn’t just gotten a whole lot sicker.

She looked a bit worse for wear and he just knew that if that boyfriend of hers -- what was his name? -- had any idea what she looked like right now he was going to be less than pleased.

So he’d gotten off his shift and very casually sat himself on the shuttle to the parking lot located outside the facility, spent ten or so minutes talking to the other guards, like he always did, and then started his engine, laughing and waving.

And when he pulled out onto the freeway he’d pushed the speedometer to the car's limits, praying to God he didn’t get pulled over and have to pull his badge so close to the facility. He didn’t dare use a phone, cell or otherwise.

That had been over seven hours ago, between early morning traffic going into the city and stopping for gas. When he pulled up to the mansion, he was barely still awake, but he had to keep going. Get here, tell them, and get back...all before four when his next shift started. He sighed. This was going to be a very long day.

He looked up at the building and sighed. It had been a while since he’d stepped into the place. Almost fifteen years, at his sister’s graduation. He’d been there to support her even when their parents hadn’t been willing to. She was a secretary now, happily living in society, hiding her mutation. She had fond memories of the place. Professor Xavier had taken a shine to him, then, a young college student. Given him a whole spiel about needing non-mutant supporters and gee, wouldn’t John be a good one.

He’d agreed to help out when needed, which wasn’t often. When he heard the Professor had died, he was just as disappointed as everyone else, although not as emotionally attached. Ororo had kept in contact with him after that and through her, he’d run into Rogue and - damn, what was his name?”

He pushed the main doors open and stepped inside. It was quiet. Winter break probably. He looked around, nervously trying to figure out where to go.

When he heard something crash in a room not too far away, he flinched.

“I don’t give a fuck!” The voice was a near roar.

Suddenly a door was nearly ripped off its hinges as a seriously pissed-off man came tearing through. He looked crazy, dangerous crazy.

Ororo came through the door, hands up placatingly. “We have the files,” she said. “Kitty got them off the mainframe. Just give us time to go through them and we’ll have a better idea.”

The large man turned on her and pointed a finger at her. “I’m not, waiting around. I’m going to San Francisco and I’m going to tear his intestines out through his mouth until he chokes up what I want to know.”

Another, smaller, man came through, white wings like that of an angel’s tucked in close. His face was pale and drawn. He looked sad.

Ororo was staring at him with hard eyes. John thought now was a good time to let them know he was there. He cleared his throat.

The man, Rogue’s boyfriend, snapped his head over and he straightened up in agitation, probably pissed he hadn’t noticed John standing there until now.

Ororo looked at him only for a moment in surprise. “John, what...? LOGAN!”

John’s shirt was snatched up and he was smashed against the wall so hard he must have left a dent in the wood paneling. He hadn’t even seen that coming. When he opened his eyes, three sharp metal claws were pressed against his throat. He didn’t dare breathe.

His eyes left the blades for a second to look at -- oh, yes. Now he remembered.  Logan. He was breathing through his gritted teeth, breath coming out in rage-filled pants. His hand -- the one with the blades -- was actually shaking.

“You smell like her,” he growled dangerously.

John noticed Ororo’s frozen form back by the door they’d just come out of, her hands to her mouth in shock. He felt a blade nick his throat. Now would be the time to spill the beans.

“I found something of yours.”

CHAPTER 27 - The Worst Point of View

Two days. Two days and going on day three of the worst nightmare of his goddamn life. Worse than dreams of being sliced open, worse than not remembering anything about himself, worse than watching Marie’s body slam into the dashboard and even worse than sitting next to her, unable to heal her body, praying to God she’d just open her eyes once more, just enough to let him heal her.

God, he needed to wake up from this torture. He needed to wake up and see her beautiful face buried in the pillow next to him. This agony went far beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

Not even watching Hank shock her body back to life over and over was worse than the horror of not knowing.

They had her and God only knew what they were doing to her. Cutting her open, seeing what made her tick. She didn’t heal like he did. Eventually, her body would give out. Or her mind. It would give out before he could get to her and then what?

He’d keep looking and looking and nothing would come to light and he’d never know what had happened to her.  He had already had one lifetime of memories stolen.  Now another lifetime of memories -- his life with Marie -- would be stolen away before he could even have the chance to make them.

He’d been so jaw-droppingly impressed when she’d sent that boasting asshole to hell.  Surely if she could take that bastard down she’d be able to get herself out of this mess.

He’d watched as Jubes had come back into the room, frantically looking for Marie. He’d heard, with pained amusement, how she had joked about getting her ass kicked and he’d wanted to reach out and tell her how fucking proud of her he was.

She’d never had to go up against someone that much more advanced than she was, and in the end it was her discipline -- her ability to stay calm, and her fucking beautiful stubbornness -- that won the fight. The other guy may have been faster, stronger, and more confident, but he was also less focused and wasted opportunity after opportunity rubbing it in her face. Now he was the one dead and in the end, that’s pretty much the only thing that counted.

He had started to think that they’d gotten out, that they were just hiding, so he was horrified to watch them get surrounded a second time. And this time, there was nowhere to run. He’d just about had a heart attack when Jubes’s body slammed back from another bullet.

He wasn’t the only one, either.  Remy‘s heart had literally skipped a beat. Honest to God, he had heard the swamp rat’s heart actually skip an entire beat when he saw that. The only thing bringing the Cajun back from that crisis had been Jubes’s voice screaming out about it having to be a damn joke. How the hell she had actually managed to sound annoyed was beyond him. He was starting to like the girl. As it turned out, she had some brass balls.

But then they took Marie. They took her. And through the mumbles that could barely be heard between the two girls as Marie worked furiously to staunch the bleeding before they dragged her off, he’d only been able to make out one phrase.

Tell him I love him.

Oh, hell no. Hell...no. She was not allowed to fucking say goodbye to him so easily. No way in all this goddamn world was he gonna just let her leave it at that.

No fucking way.

Hot fury had seeped into his bones and forty-eight hours later it still hadn’t faded. They’d raided Worthington Labs’ Washington D.C. main office first, that evening. It had been a hairy situation, getting in and out in the middle of a city where the airspace was locked up so tightly. But they’d gotten through, and Warren had provided some handy passwords that made it easier to get in and out. Kitty had spent all of yesterday pouring over files, many encrypted, trying to find any information that would lead to getting Marie back.

Bobby, who’d come home to utter chaos, had tried to make himself useful helping Kitty. Remy spent a good deal of time downstairs in the medical bay with Hank and Jubilee.

Shit, and wasn’t that a whole ‘nother point of blinding fury right there.

Ororo and Remy had gone just about crazy calling hospitals, trying to locate her. They weren’t getting any answers and it was starting to look like she might have been taken after all.

That first night, Remy had it pretty rough too. Logan was starting to wonder just how serious the thief was about Sparky.

It wasn’t until Logan picked up his ringing cell that second morning and Jubes had just about broken down in tears begging for him to come and get her that their first breath of relief came.

He’d been curious at first why she would call his phone, his private cell phone. The one not connected to the mansion’s system. But when she’d told him that she was in a hospital at Fort Montgomery, he’d just about lost his damn mind. It was a hospital nearly two hours away from Salem and they had one of those dangerous mutant holding prisons there.

Apparently, they’d given her rudimentary medical care and had questioned her most of the night. She’d been terrified to call any of the mansion’s numbers for fear they might get nosey. He’d grabbed Remy by the shirt collar and they’d raced up there to get her.

When they got there, the hostility and crap they’d had to push through to finally get to her was sending Logan into a fit of anger that wouldn’t have been so great to display in the middle of a military base.

She’d been bandaged up and not much else. Her normally tanned skin was ashen and she was half delirious from blood loss. Remy had just about exploded with fury.

It had taken two more hours to get her out of there without a fight. He would have happily given them a good taste of his anger, and he suspected Remy would have been on the same page about that. But Jubilee was weak and she couldn’t afford to be jostled around like that, so he had gritted his teeth and gotten Jubilee out of there with goddamned paperwork and a few elaborate lies spun by Remy.  Remy had carried her to the car and held her in the back seat while they drove back to the mansion.

Hank had her in surgery less than half an hour after they made it back. Surgery, he’d said, that should have happened within moments of emergency treatment.

So much for the fucking hippocratic oath.

Since then, Logan’s fury had been mounting by the moment.

So standing here in Storm’s office, listening to her and Warren try and convince him to wait another day before they went to San Francisco, was really the last straw.

“I don’t give a fuck!” And he didn’t. He really didn’t. Kitty could take all the time she needed, he was going to San Francisco. He turned and yanked viciously on the office door, practically spitting with fury.

Ororo actually had the nerve to keep on his case. “Kitty got them off the mainframe. Just give us time to go through them and we’ll have a better idea.”

He turned and pointed at her. “I’m not, waiting around. I’m going to San Francisco and I’m going to tear his intestines out through his mouth until he chokes up what I want to know.”

Warren was quietly moving forward, trying not to make a sound. It only angered Logan more. He opened his mouth to rip him a new one when someone cleared their throat behind him.

Fuck. He’d been so outrageously mad he’d actually missed that. He was losing it if someone at his back had escaped his notice.

He recognized him, though he couldn’t place him. Brown hair, brown eyes, beard. Late thirties maybe. Wearing some black uniform that covered pretty much every inch of him. He smelled like chemicals. It was such a strong odor it made his eyes water painfully.

God. What the fuck had he bathed himself in? And why the fuck did he smell like blood?

“John, what...” Ororo began.

That’s when he caught it. It was there. Just a faint smell, hardly noticeable above all the other stronger smells.

Marie.

Before he could even consider the implications he found himself slamming the man up against the wall and wanting to bury his claws into his body.

He smelled like her, she was on his hands, on his shirt... Livid rage rose like bile in his throat. He couldn’t control the words he gritted out through his clenched teeth. “You smell like her.”

And he let the blades cut the man’s throat the slightest amount, just to get him talking. The result almost brought him to his knees.

“I found something of yours,” the man ground out.

Then Ororo was there, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Logan, it’s John. He’s a friend.”

His mind finally landed on where he’s met the guy. The cop. From New York. The one from when Marie and he had found that huge stash of drugs.

He let the man slide down the wall to his feet. “Start talkin’, bub.”

XXX

They took off in the Bird and Logan could barely contain his impatience. He sat in his seat, agitatedly releasing and retracting his claws. He stared at them with the intensity of his fury, trying to imagine them buried in someone’s gut.

He heard John gulp in his seat across the jet and turned his eyes away from his blades to glare at the man.  The man had come all the way down to Westchester to tell them where Marie was -- he’d give him that.  It was not enough, however, to let Logan forget that he’d left her in there in the first place.  Maybe it was an irrational anger, but Logan didn’t really give a fuck.

They hadn’t gotten much further than location. A few sentences and they were scrambling down to the jet as fast as they could. If what John said was true, and they were moving her this very morning, they were running the very real danger of completely missing her.  Logan was not willing to entertain the thought of that actually happening.

Now that they were in the air, though, Logan wanted more answers.  When he’d asked if she was okay, John’s cursory response had been that she was alive and aware. Logan found that statement more damning than reassuring, and while it had been enough for that moment while they were still rushing to the jet, now he needed to know more.

He looked at the man as he continued to compulsively spring and retract his claws. “How bad is she?”

When John pulled his eyes up from Logan’s blades to meet his eyes, Logan struggled for breath. The man looked almost sick.

“Logan...” John cleared his throat. “I don’t think...”

“I don’t really give a fuck what you think,” Logan interrupted. “I care about her. And if she can fuckin’ take what they’re dishin’ out over there, I can take hearin’ about it. So answer the goddamn question.”

John nodded the tiniest amount. He looked towards the front and swallowed. “She’s pretty beat up.”

Logan ground his teeth.

John continued. “She’s gone through registration, been labeled. That can be pretty rough. The men there, they’re pretty callous. When I first saw her, she was fending off one of the guards trying...” He swallowed painfully.

Logan clenched his eyes and felt the claws spring out. He heard John jump in his seat. Fury. Boiling rage. Murderous intent. They swarmed him, making it difficult to breathe.

He opened his eyes and looked towards John again. “...And?”

John faltered. “It didn’t....nothing happened....that time. I was there so....I took over and that’s how I figured out who she was.”

Logan’s hands were shaking.

“The doctors had already gotten a hold of her by then,” John said in a shaking voice. “Normally that doesn’t happen until the third or the fourth day. But they went at her right off.”

Logan’s jerked his seat belt off and stood, pacing to the back of the plane in an attempt to control himself.

They got to her. They got to her. What were they doing? Slicing her up? Drugging her? What were they doing?

“What did they do to her?” he ground out, leaning his forehead against the side of the plane while he gripped the handles at the side of the hatch.

John’s voice was almost a whisper. “They took some of her... skin....”

Logan roared in fury.

CHAPTER 28 - The Hunter and The Hunted

God, she was going to be sick again. The constant rocking of the truck over rough ground was making her body sway back and forth sickeningly. The only thing taking her mind off that was the searing pain in her wrists above her.

Creed was growling on the other end of the crate, probably licking his chops at the idea of getting at her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep a new wave of bile from coming up.

He chuckled. “You smell good enough to eat.” His words were not helping her stomach.

“Shut up, Creed.” She didn’t want to listen to his suggestive comments, but he wasn’t going to stop unless she got his attention elsewhere. “What the hell are you doin’ here anyways?

He growled again. “Been here a long time, tasty girl. Growing more hungry every day.” His tone made it sound like he was licking his lips in desire. Disgusting.

“You’re supposed to be dead. Why aren’t you dead?” She said it with so much annoyance that he actually laughed snidely.

“That runt of yours gave it a good shot...But no go.”

She froze. “He’s not mine,” she tried.

“Liar,” was his soft and dangerous response. “Couple days in that rat hole and you still have his smell all over you.” He purred suggestively. “All over you and inside of you...” he grunted in satisfaction when her breath stopped.

“You’re a lewd animal, Creed,” she mumbled. “It doesn’t matter anyways. I’m here now. Stuck in this hell hole.”

“No sulking, tasty.” He inhaled deeply. “Someone who smells as mouthwateringly delicious as you do right now shouldn’t be sulking.” She refused to answer him. “Runt must have been going at you night and day,” he said jealously. “Give me half the chance and I’ll be doing the same thing.”

“You need a damn muzzle, you know that?” She struggled with the hook overhead, trying the pressure points.

He laughed darkly. “They had me in one for almost three years. It didn’t work. I still get out of it.”

She turned to him in shock. “How long have you been here?”

“Since the runt threw me down the statue and they trapped me while I was out,” he said dangerously. He growled yet again. “When I get out of here, he’s my first target.”

Marie caught her breath. “He didn’t do anything to you, Creed. Leave him out of it.”

He snorted in derision. “I’m here because of him.” His voice grew raspy. “I’m going to destroy him. With you here...it’s like sweet vindication. I can smell his disgusting scent over every inch of your skin and all I want to do is rub it away and imprint mine on you.”

She flinched. “You’ve got a death wish.”

He laughed in the dark. “Bet he’s gotten a few good shots of you. I think I’d like a little pain while I fuck you raw. Maybe even a lot of pain.”

She jerked at the hook above her. “You’re messed up,” she sneered.

“Maybe,” he said with a laugh. “But what can you expect with you in here smelling the way you do.”

Marie glared in his direction. “What the hell are you talking about, Creed?”

He laughed softly. “It’s faint. But I can smell it. You’re just starting to change. That runt of yours could probably pick it up too if he were here. It gets stronger by the minute, by the day...so delicious.”

She wasn’t following. “What?”

He purred. “Wonder how many times he had to go at you before he pulled it off.” He growled. “Makes me want to fill you up myself....just to see how much better you’d smell with my seed inside of you, instead of his.”

She froze. For a wild moment, his words made her heart stutter. Then she remembered who he was and felt anger creep up her spine. “You’re so full of shit, Creed.”

“Not about this, tasty,” he said. “But you seem to think it can’t happen.” He chuckled. “All those fancy smart people you all are around all the time, and no one figured it out?”

“Figured what out?” God, she couldn’t help but ask.

“You’ve taken a good pull off of him lately?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Some downsides of the healing...can’t get drunk, can’t get high off drugs...wears off too soon.” He chuckled. “They spend three times more money keeping me sedated than a regular mutant.”

He was all over the place. What was he getting at?

He smiled. “Those little pills you take on a daily basis?” She felt lightheaded as her brain started to wrap around the idea. “How effective you think they are after a good dose of that healing?”

Her world spun. “This can’t be happening.” Not now.  Not like this. Not while she was in this hell.

“It’s happening and it’s exactly what I need to get at the runt,” he growled.

“No,” she said forcefully. She had to get out. She had to get out now.  Right now. This moment. She jerked at the hook viciously.

He laughed, amused.

She became frantic, yanking at the hook as if it would break off. She looked around and noticed the crates that had shifted during their bumpy journey. A couple of them had gotten a bit closer. She swung herself and reached with her foot. She missed. She tried again and missed again.

Creed was chuckling.

She tried again, and finally hooked it with her toe. She jerked it over as best she could, feeling skin rip away from her wrists. She cried out in pain.

“Can’t wait to feel that under me,” he said softly, expectantly.

She swung again, trying to ignore the blood trickling down her arms. She hooked it again and this time, the crate came sliding over enough for her to stand on it.

The relief of pressure off her wrists was so intense, she could hardly see straight.  She lifted her hands off the hook and let her shackled hands down. She sagged to the floor, shaking from the rush of blood into her numb fingers.

Creed growled.

She laid herself down for a few breaths, letting her stiff shoulder joints ease. But she couldn’t take any more time. She crawled toward the small seam of light escaping the crate’s opening, peering out. There were two guards sitting casually on a bench. She looked around trying to find a different way out.

“You trying to escape, tasty girl? It won’t work, you know.”

“Cram it, Creed. You’re just jealous I have a chance.”  Now that she could move around, she looked closer.  He was chained to the crate’s wall, his hands tightly locked at his sides and his head held in place by another brace. He strained against his bonds, growling menacingly.

“I’ll find mine, too, tasty. You wait and see. Maybe not today. Maybe not soon. But I will,” he growled. “One day, I will get out. And then I’ll be coming after you and that cub of yours. I’ll make the runt watch as I torture you and it will be so good to see him break. And you might be able to take his healing...but odds are, that thing growing inside you won’t.  And watching it die will break you both. So good. So sweet.”

She stared at him, unable to speak. Looking into his black eyes, she knew he meant it. He was so set on getting back at Logan that she knew this would never end. She put a trembling hand on her belly.  No matter how many times Logan skewered him...he’d heal and keep coming back.  He’d keep coming for Logan, and for her...and for the baby.

“You’re never going to stop coming after us, are you?”

He smiled and licked his lips.

She felt the fury rise in her. “I could end this right now.”

He chuckled. “You might be the only one that could. But you won’t.”

She glared. “You don’t know that.”

“I know that touching someone means they’re in your head forever.” He paused. “That might be even better. Why don’t we give it a shot. See how long it takes me to drive you mad.” He looked so amused.

She stilled. “Then you don’t know much...” He didn’t. He had been in this place since Liberty Island so long ago. He didn’t know much at all.

“I know what that means.” he looked at her arm. She looked down and then back at him. “Class Four, huh? Pretty hot. Never took a Class Four before. Must be a pretty powerful feeling being able to kill with just a touch. Maybe I’ll be able to get to you before you push that cub out. I’d love to rip it out myself,” he licked his lips.

She gave him a level stare, deciding.

“I’m not a Class Four because I can kill with a touch.” She walked up to him and kneeled to his level, with only a foot between them. He was smiling at her proximity.

She brought up her bare hands and held them mere inches from his face. She saw the first signs of fear flash across his face.

She closed the distance and gripped the sides of his face. He let out a roar of fear, bracing for the pain. When nothing happened, he stilled and stared at her, completely taken aback.

She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m a Class Four because I decide when I take...” She felt her fingers itch as she looked for his mutation with hers.

When she’d taken from Logan that last time, for her arm, she’d started the pull before separating his mutation and finding what she needed. The result had been taking some of his other manifestations as well. This time, she sorted through them first. She found what she needed.

“...what I take...” she said softly. Healing. Only healing. And she let some of it seep through. His face contorted momentarily before she switched it off again. She noticed the rips in her wrists closing some. He noticed too. He looked at her in shock.

“...and how much I take.” She took a deep breath and focused with everything inside of her, gritting the words out so he would hear as well. “Healing. All of it.”

His eyes widened in panic just as she yanked with all her might. He let out a roar of pain. She kept going, feeling the painful knitting of her battered body. His roar died away and he could only stare in horror as she kept going.

Behind her, she heard the guards.  They were peering through the small opening to see what the commotion was, yelling for her to stop. She ignored them and kept pulling and pulling. So much, she thought. Where does it end? She was going to find out.

She held her mutation steady as it fought her to take more than just the healing. She gritted her teeth as she forced it to stay on track. Healing. Only healing.

He was growing white now, the blood draining from his face.

She kept at it, blocking any entry of other mutations or personality. Just as she thought she’d never find the end of the mutation, she felt it grow weak. Like a rope, there seemed to be no more give. She took a deep breath and yanked viciously once more. She felt it break loose  and then there was no more.

She pulled back. “That’s what makes me a Four, Creed,” she breathed out as the guards finished unlocking the doors to get inside.

Creed was still conscious, still aware, even though he looked horror-struck. She reached out and swiped her nails against his face, leaving a trail of trickling blood down his neck.
It didn’t heal.

She got to her feet, completely stable and completely healed. “Come after us now,” she dared him. “See how long you last.”

The door swung open and she turned to face her captors.

They held guns up to her. “Hands up!” one of them yelled.

She obeyed. One came closer, ready to hook her back up.

She brought her hands down around his neck and swung around, using the shackles to snap his neck with one fierce twist.

A shot rang out and she felt it rip through her chest. She fell to the ground in pain and her blood soaked through her shirt.

Then, she was healing.

The second guard walked up to her prone form then and she swiped at his legs, dropping him. He struggled to stand and she grabbed the handgun, placed it to his temple and released a single bullet. Hot fury eased out of her bones as he landed on the ground, blood splattering everywhere.

She stared for a moment at the bodies, at Creed where he sat weakly whimpering. She looked at the gun in her hand and wondered when she had lost her hesitancy to kill. She hadn’t felt bad about killing the man at the college. And now, she still felt no remorse. None. They weren’t giving her an option. She’d fight for her life. If that’s what it took to protect herself, to protect her unborn child...the very thought was so incredibly overwhelming she could hardly think about it...

Her hand cradled her stomach again, her fingers spreading protectively.

When she heard the radio coming to life from the truck’s front, she snapped out of it. She ducked through the open crate door and noticed the window leading to the front cab was ajar. Through it, she could see the driver. He was on the radio.

“Morris. Morris, can you hear me? Pick up the receiver Morris, dammit. I’m headed North on Route 113 with the Worthington cargo...”

She walked up and pointed the gun to his head. “Put the radio down,” she ordered.

He glanced at her and turned back. She gave him one more chance. “I said put it down!”

He sneered and brought the radio transceiver to his mouth again. If she could have reached, she might have just touched him, to put him down. But she couldn’t reach him, and his body was blocking a clear shot at the radio. She couldn’t have him radioing back that she’d gotten loose.

She pulled the trigger.

He fell forward, the truck losing control.  The entire truck pitched and slammed on its side. She was thrown against a wall and saw the metal rip open towards the back. Sparks flew into the air as metal scraped along the road. She gripped the bench and didn’t let go until the large vehicle finally slowed to a stop.

She felt the knocks and bruises heal quickly as she stumbled through the mess of the truck to the back where a hole had been torn out of the side. She climbed out, her skin healing instantly from where it caught on the jagged metal.  

It was morning, but she couldn’t tell how early. The trees made it hard to see the position of the sun.

She looked around and all she saw was the dense cover of trees. One road, in two directions. The facility...and God only knew where. She jumped down on to the snow covered road, shackles clinking noisily. It was freezing outside. Her bare feet going numb. She took off into the woods as fast as she could, bare feet crunching through the snow.

She had to get as far away as she could.

CHAPTER 29 - Both points of View

“Which way, homme?” the Cajun asked. They were running through halls that smelled like bleach. Red overhead lights flashed and alarms sounded -- they were running short on time. Logan was sick of running into dead ends. The place was a damn death trap of halls and passages.

He and Remy  had taken the south end, which is where John had told him he’d seen Marie. But they hadn’t run into any prisoners yet and he was getting a headache from the strong stench of ammonia. He’d turned back twice, thinking he’s smelled her, but the scent vanished and he was getting aggravated.

Shots rang out and he was pelted with at least three gunshots in the chest. He pushed Remy back around the corner and took cover himself. He gritted his teeth and took a second while his body worked the bullets out of his chest. They plinked to the ground, one after another.

Remy stared at his the bullets on the floor. “Dat’s all kinds of sick, homme.”  Logan growled.

Remy grinned a cheshire smirk and took out his cards. They turned fire red as he charged them and readied himself.

Logan growled and rolled his eyes. “You’re a fuckin’ show off, Gumbo.”

Remy shrugged. “Dat’s part of de charm. De ladies like Remy to be extravagant.”  He leaned around the corner and let them fly.  Explosions erupted and smoke billowed.

“No damn ladies here to watch, bub,” Logan said as he charged around the corner into the smoke, roaring in fury.

Remy chuckled. “Who be showing off now?” He grabbed his bō staff and followed.

XXX

He pulled his metal claws up the man’s stomach, disemboweling him in the process.  Blood spatter covered the name embroidered on his white lab coat -- Dr. Sanders.  His scream was a cross between pain and horror at seeing his intestines spilling out. Logan stared at him with furious eyes.

“What’s it feel like to be sliced open, prick?” The man gagged on blood before falling back and off Logan’s blades.  He was the last one in the room of four doctors that Logan had killed slowly and torturously.

He had walked in to find their terrified huddled forms behind a medical table. It was a procedure room, the table ready with straps and plenty of medical equipment to bring back all of Logan’s worst nightmares. And it was chock full of Marie’s terrified scent. The smell of her blood, of her tears...it had sent him into a berserker rage that had him slicing off the first man’s head.

He’d come back to himself long enough to drag out the others’ deaths, allowing him to get the passcodes to the offices. That was when Remy had come into the room. He’d looked around, swallowed sickly and made no comment. Good. ‘Cause with the rage pounding through his blood, a single word from the no-good-thief would only get him a set of claws in the gut.

“Let’s go,” he ordered. Remy followed them along to a corridor with offices. He found the one he wanted and quickly sliced the handle off. “You know anythin’ about computers, Gumbo?”

Remy sighed and grabbed a chair. “Gambit not Kitty. But he do his best.” He worked over the desk as Storm’s voice came over the com-link. “We’ve cleared out the last of the prisoners in the two other wings.” She waited. “I’m afraid Rogue is no longer here. We may have been too late.”

Logan growled and barked. “We’re trying to find out where the shipment went. The locations are encrypted. Shadowcat, can you make your way down here, we might need you.”

“Sure thing. On my way,” she replied.

Suddenly the radio came to life. There was static and then a male voice. “Morris. Morris, can you hear me?”

Logan and Remy gave each other a glance and kept working. The voice came back on.

“Pick up the receiver Morris, dammit. I’m headed North on Route 113 with the Worthington cargo...”

“Put the radio down,” came a swift order.

Logan’s entire body jerked at the sound of  her voice. Marie. He jumped at the machine and tried to work it. Remy left the computer to try and help. Logan was almost hyperventilating with adrenaline. Her voice. Her sweet, sweet voice speaking at this very moment.

And then her voice was hard and held an edge of warning. “I said put it down!”

A second and he heard a gunshot before the radio went static.

“Jesus. No!” He couldn’t lose the connection now. He shouted into the handset, finally turned to the right settings. “Marie!” he yelled. “Marie!”

Nothing. He waited, praying. Nothing happened. His mind raced. “What road did he say?”

Remy didn’t miss a beat. “Route 113.” He followed Logan out of the room.

XXX

“Gambit think perhaps we slow down, non?” The boy was holding on to the door handle with a death grip. “Wolverine don’t have great record driving so fast...” The car swung around a corner and Remy cursed colorfully.

“Can it, LeBeau.” He drove like a bat out of hell. Route 113...that was close by, only a couple miles. He needed to catch that truck.

Remy pointed. “Dere is 113, homme.”

Logan took the corner and floored it down the small back road. So close. So close. It was agonizing going down the empty road. Minute after minute ticked by.  They were nearing the end of 113 where it emptied out onto a major highway and it would be impossible to find her after that.

“Come on, come on...”

“Up dere!” Remy said, pointing to clouds of smoke billowing up from a jacknifed truck.

Logan’s heart took off at a gallop.

“Fuck!”

He swung the car to a stop a hundred feet from the wreckage and threw himself out of the driver’s side seat. He ran towards the overturned truck. Remy climbed out from his side of the car and followed.

“Marie!” Logan yelled as he ran up to the truck. God. Marie in another car accident. He couldn’t even handle the thought. A quick look into the driver’s cab and he ruled that out. Only a disfigured man half hanging out of the window. He ran around to the back screaming her name.

“Marie, baby!”

Remy was already trying to pull back the door when Logan got there. He released his claws and sliced through the metal. Remy pulled the loose piece away and Logan climbed through. He froze. Her scent was thick with blood. It was so strong.

“Jesus, Marie, answer me,” he begged.

He followed the scent into a crate and froze, claws automatically sliding out.

Sabretooth. The air was thick and musty. Logan felt a growl start low and deep in his throat. He moved around slowly, trying to find the owner. It was difficult in this big box where everything was so contained. Two bodies crumpled up in corners, not hers.

He turned around and there he was. Sabretooth’s form hung from overhead, his body held in place by metal locks around his wrists. There was one at his neck also. His head hung at an odd angle.

Logan looked at him in confusion. Why wasn’t he healing? Blood pooled down out of his mouth and his eyes were open and vacant. The smell of death was starting to take hold.

He backed away, looking around. She’d been here. Her smell was stronger, but it was caked in blood. He found a spot on the floor of the container -- now basically a wall -- where her blood had pooled and now ran down in little rivers to the floor. He stared at it in horror.

“Homme!” Remy called from the entrance. “Dere is a trail of blood out here.”

Logan jerked his head away from the wall. He ran back to the entrance and climbed out.

“Where?”

“Here,” he said pointing at a small opening on the side. There was blood smeared on the outside of the truck and lightly spattered on the snow just to the side. He would have expected more blood in the direction she had gone but there wasn’t.

There were, however, footprints. Small, even footprints leading off the road.  He followed them to the edge of the road and took a long inhale.

His heart soared. “Marie.”

He turned to Remy. “Stay and wait for the team. I’m going after her.” He didn’t wait for Remy to nod before taking off into the woods. Wolverine, the hunter, came to the surface, ready to track her. He slowed to take a few sniffs and then took off at a run.

He judged the time of the radio contact with how long it had taken them to get out here. Knowing her pace at a normal run, he judged her to be no more than a mile ahead of him. She was injured too, which would slow her down.  And the footprints were of her bare feet, which meant she’d be slowed down even more.  

She was probably trying to get as far away as possible, not knowing where she even was. The disorientation would drag her down even more.

But she was also strong willed. He couldn’t really put a judgment on how far or how fast that would drive her.

He picked up speed as her scent grew stronger, closer. He was breathing through his nose, staying on her trail with little effort.

Had she known Sabretooth was dead? It wasn’t like her to run against the wind. She would know that Sabretooth could follow her scent as he was doing now.

He growled in aggravation when she was further ahead than he had thought. He needed to get to her now. She was hurt and he needed to heal her.

Her scent was close now. He was so close. He pushed forward, easily covering the distance.

Then he saw her small figure a hundred feet or so ahead, weaving through the trees.  Her bare feet were moving more quickly than he would have thought possible considering her injuries and the freezing cold.

He stopped. “Marie!” he bellowed through heaving breaths.

She stumbled to a stop. For a moment, she stood there, motionless. Then her head snapped around and he finally was able to see her beautiful face again, albeit from a distance.

“Marie,” he called to her. “Darlin’, it’s me.”

He could see the air leaving her mouth in strong pants, fogging the freezing air.

“Logan?” she called. And he heard the crack in her voice, the tears that were seconds from spilling over.

He took off again. She covered her mouth with one of her shackled hands as a sob escaped her trembling body. She stumbled towards him. He closed the distance between them.

XXX

She’d been running as hard as she could for a while now. Her feet were beyond numb. She worried about frostbite, but the two times she’d stopped to check her feet, they looked pink and healthy, so she kept moving forward.

Creed’s healing factor was coursing through her veins, making her heart beat steady and strong despite her exhaustion. She wouldn’t be able to keep going too much longer. She knew from Logan that the healing only covered physical damage, not mental. She hadn’t slept in two -- maybe three -- days.

Her mind was starting to fade in and out. She saw black shadows across her vision every couple of minutes, signs of sleep deprivation. She’d keep running, but she wasn’t sure if she could keep running in a straight line. God, where was she? She could be in the middle of nowhere. How was she going to find help? If she could just reach a road, she could find the nearest gas station, use the phone. But what if they tracked her there?

She was passing through  a thick patch of trees when she heard his voice.

“Marie!”

She froze. Was her brain playing tricks on her? It wasn’t her inner Logan, he was safely locked away. But his voice was so crisp and clear, so real.

She had to know. She turned her head to look.

And there he was. Standing in his uniform, breathing heavily, the moisture from his breath fogging up. She blinked slowly, trying to make the hallucination disappear.  But when she opened her eyes, he was still there.

“Marie.” He took a small step forward. “Darlin’, it’s me.”

Her throat clogged up and she could feel the tears rise involuntarily. “Logan?”

Then he was running toward her again. Her hand shook as it came up to muffle the pathetic sob that escaped her mouth. She tried to run to him, but her legs decided now was the time to start giving out, leaving her hobbling shakily instead.

He closed the gap between them in seconds and she threw herself at him, bringing her shackled hands down around his neck, her face burying itself under his chin. He caught her weight easily and crushed her to him, her feet dangling.

“Logan,” she cried into his neck.

He had one hand tangled in her dirty stringy hair, the other wrapped tightly around her torso. “Jesus Christ, Marie,” he said hoarsely. She felt his hands running over her body, checking her for wounds. “Are you hurt?” he asked desperately. “Let me see, baby.”

She gripped him tighter. “I’m okay. I’m okay. Logan, just don’t let go,” she whimpered.

Her whole body convulsed as she sobbed into the warm skin of his neck. She couldn’t get anything out but his sweet name. “Logan...oh, Logan.”

He was talking softly into her ear through her hysterical tears. “I got ya, darlin’. Shh...I’m here.”

It took a minute for her to release her death grip. The second she did, he pulled her arms down, released his claws and sliced the shackles from her wrists. They fell to the ground as she wrapped her arms back around his shoulders. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t you ever say goodbye to me again, Marie,” he ground out. “Don’t you dare.  Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

She nodded, tears still streaming down, leaving tracks through the dirt on her face. He kissed her for all she was worth then, his mouth moving frantically over hers.  He suddenly pulled away, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. When he opened them, he pulled himself away and started to look at her.

“Fuck,” he said, seeing the blood covering her shirt and arms.

He grabbed at her blood-soaked shirt and pushed it up, looking for the wound.  His eyes scrunched in confusion. He moved to her face, pushing back the hair and turning her so he could look. When he peeled off one of the bandages from her arm to see only perfectly smooth skin, he looked back up at her.

“What the...”

“Creed,” she said by way of explanation.

“You touched him?” he said in horror. He grabbed her face in his hands and looked in her eyes. “How much of him is in your head?”

“None,” she assured him. “I didn’t take his personality.”

“Just his healing...” he said.

She nodded.

“How much?”

She held her breath. “All of it.”

“What?” he said softly.

“I took all of it, Logan. I pulled until there wasn’t a drop left to take.” He was speechless. “He threatened to come after you. He was goin’ to try and use me against you...”

He hushed her. “Don’t worry about that now, Marie. Just...” he buried his face in her neck and breathed her in. “...Let me smell you. Let me...”  His inhaled breath froze and so did hers.

His grip on her grew tighter for a moment. He let out a shaky breath and then inhaled again, testing her scent. And this time, he pulled away and looked at her, his eyes wide.

“Marie...”

“He was gonna use that against you too.” Her eyes grew hard. “I couldn’t let him do that.”

He was staring at her. And for the first time, she was completely in the dark about what was running through his head. Usually, she had at least some idea. Not this time. His eyes were unreadable. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

And then he was kissing her like he was trying to lose himself in her.  When he pulled away he was growling softly. “I didn’t realize...the other day...it was so faint. I could barely smell it.” He smiled. “It’s so much stronger now.”

She blushed. “Is that a good thing?”

He smiled, the expression making him look suddenly much younger.

“Yeah...” he said. “It’s a good thing.” He kissed her again and lifted her off her feet, sliding his gloved fingers into her hair again.  He growled softly. “You have no idea what it’s doin’ to me to smell that on you, darlin’.”

She chuckled. “We’ll have to talk about that a little later.  Right now, I think I just want to get warm and clean.”

His eyes changed and he growled. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Marie.”  

He pulled away, keeping a hold of her arm and walked next to her in the direction of the road.  When she wobbled along the first few steps, he cursed and scooped her up into his arms.

“Logan,” she said with a laugh. “I’m not a baby.”

He scowled. “You think I’m gonna let the mother of my child walk through fuckin’ snow wearing nothin’ but lab scraps?”

“That’s really sweet, Logan. But with this healin’...”

“Fuck the healin’, Marie. I don’t give a shit. Even if you weren't knocked up, I wouldn't let you go traipsin’ around in the snow barefoot. Now shut up and let me take care of you.”

She sighed and obeyed, ignoring his comment on her condition. She rested her head against his shoulder as he carefully walked back the way they’d run. The gentle beat of his heart and gentle rhythm of his warm breath soon lulled her to sleep.

CHAPTER 30 - A New Point of View

She didn’t have too many memories of the walk back to the road, or the transfer back to the Bird. With Logan’s reassuring presence holding her close, her mind finally let the exhaustion claim her.

She woke up once when Logan had climbed into the backseat of the car, carefully juggling her while he arranged himself on the seat. Her body tingled painfully as the hot air of the car’s heater warmed her freezing skin. His gruff commands to Remy to get back to the jet faded quickly.

She woke up again -- barely -- when the jet landed back at the mansion. She had no idea how long it had taken or what time of day it was. Logan carried her along the hanger and her mind faded again.

The knife cutting into her skin pulled back and was replaced by a rounded razorblade. It slipped under the skin and started to stroke back and forth, carefully detaching her skin from her muscle. The piercing pain raced up her back in agonizing pulses. She struggled against the leather straps holding her down, screaming for it to stop. She couldn’t move, the weight on her limbs was not budging. She screamed again.

She was pulled up from the nightmare by a scream of terror. Her own. She struggled against the invisible straps with gasping pants.

“Marie!”

Logan’s strong voice cut through her frantic haze and she opened eyes she hadn’t realized were still closed.

He had his arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist, her back towards him. He was whispering soft words into her ear, though she couldn’t really tell what they were, his soft even tone easing her muscles little by little. She was sweating and shaking.

When his arms eased their tight hold, she let out a shaky breath. “Sorry...”

“Stop,” was his quick response. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, Marie.” He kissed the back of her head. “Don’t ever apologize for that.”

They were in their room, windows and curtains pulled closed, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. She still wore the scrubs from the facility, as dirty as they were. She pulled away and turned to look at him. He wore a shirt and sweatpants, not his uniform. When she eyed the shirt, she could make out blood stains and dirt everywhere their bodies had touched. She looked down at her filthy hands. “How long have I been asleep?”

He pushed some of her blood stained platinum locks out of her face. His eyes darted behind her, to the clock, and then landed back on her. “‘Bout fourteen hours since we got back. It’s two in the morning.”

She hissed. “That long?” She looked around. “What day is it?”

That seemed to have struck an old wound. He growled in anger. “It’s Sunday.” He cleared his throat. “They grabbed you on Thursday. We found you yesterday morning, which was Saturday.” His voice grew strained. “I’m sorry...God, I’m so fuckin’ sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, baby.”

She shook her head and touched his cheek. “You came for me, that’s what matters.”

He took her hand in his and kissed it. “You scared me...” he whispered brokenly.

Her throat closed up and she unsuccessfully fought tears. “When I think about...what they did...” His grip on her hand grew tighter. “...God, even having your nightmares, Logan...I never realized...” A small sob broke loose and she was suddenly brought into his chest.

He gripped her tightly, growling low in his chest. “It’s killin’ me, Marie. You having firsthand knowledge of what it’s like...It’s fuckin’ killin’ me.”

She brought her face back to look at him. “I feel different now. Like my...soul...is harder. I killed men, Logan. Not like before, where it was something I really tried to avoid doing. I wanted them dead and I just...”

He nodded. “It’s instinct. Survival. Them or you. You didn’t do anything wrong, Marie. Don’t think that.”

She shook her head. “I shot a man in the head, point blank. I...”

“You made a choice,” he stated bluntly. “You didn’t take any pleasure out of it. You made a choice to survive. No one would do anything different. Not if they wanted to live.”

She sighed. She started to run her fingers through her hair and stopped at the sticky dried mess it had become. “Jesus, I’m still covered in this stuff.” She couldn’t help the tone of disgust.

He cringed. “When I brought you up here, I thought you’d want a shower. But you didn’t even bat an eye when I put you on the bed. I didn’t...you looked so exhausted...I couldn’t wake you up.”

She smiled softly. “Thanks. I was...I am. I couldn’t...I couldn’t sleep there. I was so worried they’d catch me off guard...I was just...”

He kissed her forehead. “We should get you cleaned up.” He sighed and lifted her off his lap and placed her on the bed. “Wait here.”

She watched him go into the bathroom. He turned the small light on and turned on the shower. Looking down at her hands, she swallowed thickly. It was so normal for him to do just that, and it made her heart squeeze painfully.

When she looked up, he was leaning against the door, arms crossed. “It’ll take a while, Marie...to get used to having it be a part of you. I’ll help you.”

She smiled and almost broke down in tears again. He knew exactly what it was like to be her right now. It was...comforting. He came towards her and took her hands. She swung her feet over the edge and stood shakily. She laughed self-consciously. “You’d think with this healin’ I’d be able to get up on my own.”

He grunted. “It’s the nerves. You’re still worked up. It’ll take awhile for your head to come down from all this.” He walked with her to the bathroom and closed the door, letting the steam build up.

Carefully, slowly, he peeled off the blood-covered shirt. She stood there, letting him lead her motions. He was being so tender, she couldn’t find a reason to assert she could do it herself. He pulled the scrub pants down and lifted her feet one at time to pull them off.

Normally this sort of attention would lead to passionate moments, but he didn’t look at her with that heat in his eyes. He looked at her with a different kind of passion. She couldn’t place it. He stripped off his own shirt and sweats before stepping into the shower before her. After adjusting the water temperature, he reached a hand out to her and helped her climb in.

Within seconds, brick red water filled the bottom of the tub. He helped her lean back into the spray, letting water run down her hair. He ran his hands through her knotted locks, gently picking out pieces of dried blood, vomit and dirt. The water still ran red.

He growled softly. She opened her eyes to look at him. He was angry. “It’s not all mine, Logan.”

He clenched his jaw. “Most of it is.”

She sighed. “It’s over.”

“It’s not fuckin’ over, Marie.” His voice was low and dangerous. “It’s over for you. But it’s not for me.”

She looked at him as he spread shampoo into her hair. “What do you mean?”

He massaged her scalp softly, in complete contradiction to the force of his words. “I’m going to San Francisco today, to finish this.”

She’d closed her eyes to enjoy his ministrations. Now she opened them. “Finish what?”

He worked his fingers through the hair at the base of her scalp. She almost purred. “Worthington and I are gonna have a few words...maybe more. This ends today. If he thinks he can put a bounty on your head and live, he’s got another thing comin’. Only thing keepin’ me from outright slaughterin‘ the man is the inconvenient fact that he’s Warren’s father. He’s a good kid.”

She swallowed. “You think that’ll work.”

He didn’t blink. “I’ll make it work.”

She sighed. He held her head back into the spray again and worked the shampoo out. He put more shampoo into her hair and repeated the entire process. The water still ran red. After two more cycles of shampoo, her eyes closed the entire time, they finally moved on to conditioner. He worked it into her hair softly, kissing her eyes as she rocked into his grip. “Marie...”

His voice was strangled. She opened her eyes to see his struggling face. He clenched his eyes and struggled to control his breathing. “I need you to tell me...” He opened his eyes and looked at her as he held her head gently. “I need to know...” She looked at him curiously. “Did they...did anyone...hurt you...touch you?”

She reached for his face, softly tracing the lines of his jaws. “No, Logan. Nobody touched me.”

He let out a shaky breath and crushed her in his arms. “Thank fuckin’ God.”

She almost laughed. “My thoughts exactly.” He pulled away, smiled at her small joke and continued on to the soap.

He squeezed the body wash into his cupped hand and rubbed it together some before starting at her neck. Slowly, he rubbed away splotches of blood and dirt. She couldn’t help but ask. “What happened? At the college?”

He sighed. “Six people died. Gunshots.” He growled. “Fuckers didn’t care who they hit.”

Suddenly, the memory came crashing back. “Jubes!” Her body jerked and he shushed her.

“She’s fine.”

She let a huge breath escape in relief. He moved on to her shoulders and arms.

“It’s a long story, but she’s back and fine. Still in the medlab, though. Hank wants to keep her down there another day or so, to make sure the wounds don’t get infected.” He was massaging the dirt from her hands and wrists when he sighed. “We saw the security footage...from the school.”

She looked up. “What did you see?”

He grimaced. “All of it.” Her heart broke a bit for him. She wouldn’t have been able to handle watching him in that kind of ordeal. “The parking lot, the lecture hall...” He growled. “Watched you and that fuckin’ shit eatin’ prick get into it...” he sighed.

“Logan...” She didn’t really know what she would say to him.

He leaned in and kissed her savagely. She had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling. When he pulled back his eyes were twinkling. “You did everything right. You kept your head on straight, kept your cool...and if you hadn’t had such a rough time of it, I would keep that thing in our room as a souvenir, watching it anytime I wanted to see how beautiful you are when you fight.”

She let a laugh burst out. “Here I thought I’d gotten the tar beat out of me.”

He looked at her and she could see his eyes held that same passion. Not for intimacy...something else. “That’s what made it so amazin’ to watch. He was better than you, technically. But you kept goin’, keepin’ it together. You found the hit and you took it.”

She smiled in dawning understanding, finally figuring out what that passion in his eyes was. “Are you trying to say you’re proud of me?”

He smirked. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

She laughed softly. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that....in regards to my fightin’ skills. You’re always raggin’ on me about my timin’ and all...”

He looked up from his position below her where he was washing her legs and feet. “That ain’t gonna stop, Marie.” He finished washing her body and held her under the spray again, letting the soap wash away. “I’m not lettin’ you get off the hook for those things. You’ve still got stuff to work on. All I’m sayin’ is that you showed some real mettle in there, and I noticed.”

She grinned at him when he grabbed some more soap and started to work the grunge off her face carefully. She closed her eyes so he could clean her face more thoroughly. “Good. Soon as I get some more sleep, we can start sparrin’ again."

He stopped suddenly.

“No.”

She opened her eyes and he was glaring at her.

“Logan. I’m all healed. I don’t...”

“You’re also pregnant,” was his no-arguments-about-it statement. “You’re not sparrin’ anymore. And you’re also not goin’ on missions.”

Her cheeks colored in anger. “Logan...”

“Close your eyes,” was his rough command. She grumbled and obeyed. He ran soap over her face. “You’re on leave. End of story.”

She let the water rinse away the soap. Opening her eyes, she could see he didn’t even consider this a conversation, just him telling her the verdict. “You’re not being reasonable, Logan.”

He slammed the knob over to off and shoved the curtain aside. And the look on his face, she knew all too well. This conversation....was over. She sighed. She was too tired to keep on it. She’d deal with it later.

He wrapped her up in towels and dried her off tenderly, despite his aggravation. She stood quietly as he finished drying her and left to bring her panties and an old shirt of his. He left the bathroom again.

She smiled. It was as much of a give as she was going to get right now. He knew she liked sleeping in his old worn shirts. She pulled it over her head.

She reached for her brush and worked the knots out of her hair. She slipped her panties on and opened the door, walking back into their room. He was finishing changing the sheets. She watched as he tucked in the edges and threw the cover back over.

He stood and faced her. After a second, he raised an eyebrow. “You comin’?”

She smiled softly and crawled onto the bed. God, she was clean and warm and she didn’t hurt and she was just...so...tired. How quickly sleepiness started taking over caught her by surprise. She felt a twinge of fear at the idea of sleeping and dreaming again. “Logan?”

He settled up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close. “Yeah?”

She trembled. “Don’t leave me alone, okay?”

He tightened his grip and kissed the back of her head. “Never.”

Fin