Uninvited
SacredMacha
notmysight at aol.com
PG-13?
Summary - sometimes you just want to keep something there, even as you hold it away.
Genre - songfic
category - AU?
Disclaimer - I own nothing but my whiskey and my twisted thoughts. I wish I could own the characters, or the Alanis Morisette song. No luck.





I won't lie. I was flattered by the intensity of his attention, fostered the way he focused on me with flirting. Fluttering lashes and a fall of hair just so across my face. Slow smiles and sweet, honey drawled words kept him on my trail like a wolf after a lamb. I might not be a slim, redheaded doctor, but I knew how to keep a man's attention, especially when I have a bit of that man locked up inside my head. The right perfume, a certain shade of lipstick, the long, satiny gloves he liked best, that he fantasized over. I'm a hot blooded woman, whether or not my skin could cool any ardor that ever flared up into flames. I knew he wanted me, and I wanted to keep that longing intact, make it last.

Truth was, at the first, I just wanted something, a hero, to crave. Something so close, so tantalizing, I wanted to reach out and touch it, stroke fingers over the surface, lick to taste, press myself into it until it gave and surrounded me in comfort and warmth. Some legend to wrap myself in, a Lancelot to long after me like I was Guinevere and never to be touched, to be dirtied at his hands. Logan came and gave that to me... in spades.

At first, I knew he liked watching the ever stoic Scott squirm, wanting to speak up, but knowing I was no naive child. Besides, he was secretly relieved to see Logan watching me that way, rather than the woman that was going to be his wife. Logan liked watching people hem and haw, and twist their hands, watching him shepard me, or so he thought. I enjoyed sheparding the shepard, so subtly he didn't realize his direction was being sidestepped.

But every night, it came down to Logan seeing me to my door. Moment of awkward silence, before I would glance up, move to the door and open it. A look over my shoulder as it swung shut behind me, more than a barrier of wood and hardware. He was uninvited, not allowed to travel past that door with me, to find out just why my scent deepened in the dark of night, or hear me muffle my cries into the feathers of my pillows.

I knew I fascinated him, a puzzle that lacked a piece. He was determined to figure me out, to solve the mystery of the Marie that lay under the Roguish exterior. As though finding and placing that last escaping bit into that empty spot would make it all clear to him. That it would unlock my door and let him in. Let him into me, inside more than just my head or my heart. Logan wanted my soul, he wanted to map out every inch of uncharted territory that was who I am. Who I was, and also who I would become.

Going along with him to the dives he frequented, gloves and scarves plied and played, dancing with sensual abandon, dark eyes watching the way hazel ones would meet them, narrowing with the gaze of a hunter on the trail of prey. Falling into sassy smiles and southern drawl, making him watch me flirt, tease, and dance close to men who would never know what it was to be killed by a woman who touched them with love. Letting him get all riled up, then making him take me home, treating him as chastely as a best friend, a big brother. Pat of satin clad hand on his cheek, graze of a kiss to quick to be dangerous against stubbled chin, before I would walk through the door to my bedroom. Another glance over a shoulder, before the door swung closed, shutting us apart.

Shutting me off from giving into what I knew I could never have and keep, not the way I wanted to. Shutting him away from me, only making him want more of what he couldn't have, to trespass where no invitation had ever been extended. I kept telling myself he only wanted what he couldn't in good sense have, he wanted to claim someone that had never been claimed before.

Then his tactics changed. Watching the television, some nature show on penguins, as Jubilee sighed about how sweet it was some animals mate for life. I felt the weight of his gaze on me, turning my head, watching him through the translucence of white strands. Feeling my heart speed up, heat building in my face as he dragged that cigar out of his mouth.

" Way it should be, when you find the one person that makes everything worth it. The one that makes it worth giving up anyone else that could ever cross your path. The one that makes you want to fly higher, to fight harder, to be the ultimate of all your parts. To be your anam cara. " A flair given to those last words. A veritable speech for the usually more taciturn Wolverine. Jubille and Kitty both just sighed, eyes all wide and just drowning in the romance our god of hotness in denim had just spoken. I stared at him a moment, knowing I had heard the words before. Standing abruptly, I fled the room, before I heard booted feet strolling the opposite way. A reprieve of sorts, I thought.

I couldn't take it, couldn't have him imagining what loving me, letting me love him would be like. Hating to hear him talk as if he knew what my love would be like. He couldn't know, because I didn't know. How did a girl with a literally killer body know those sorts of things about herself? How could he say those things, knowing how badly I wanted to give him, to let him fit those puzzle pieces together and have all of me for himself? I was just so afraid that giving in, would be giving him up. That I would lose his intense interest by extending that invitation he was waiting silently for.

Google is a marvelous tool and in no time at all, I found that, in loose terms, at least, anam cara meant soul mate.Mystery solved, I heard a knock at the door, moving in a flurry to jerk it open. Expecting Jubilee to be there, all buzzing on sugar and busy with a million questions on why I had run off. Chin jerked up instead, eyes meeting hazel eyes, the eyes of a hunter.. full of hunger and watching his prey threaten to get away. I could feel heat surging up into my face again, a jerk of breathing before it was smooth and flowing fast from my lungs again.

His hand slid out, a small box there, dark velvet and squared. Eyes stared, then jerked up again, aghast. He couldn't mean it. Box pressed into my hand, barest thrill of skin against skin, his rougher, scented by his cigar, against my softer, vanilla lotioned hand. eyes never leaving my face, even as I dared open that box, peering into it with a mix of fear, hope, and desire so big it hurt.

"I know some people might not think I'm good enough for ya. Worthy of you. I had always hoped you thought different. " Rough toned words, edged with barbs to hide the hurt beneath. He had thought my running was more denial, and not running before I capitulated. I stared at the treasure in that box, emerald glinting in a setting of white gold, small and set low enough I could wear it under my gloves if I wanted. I finally made myself look up at him, throat aching with so much unsaid.

" Ah don't think you unworthy... Ah need a moment ..this should be somethin' ya think out and deliberate over..." Arms crossed over his chest as he just watched me, patiently and impatirnly all at once.

"So think about it, would you? I'm not gettin' any younger, Marie. " Making me laugh, because while the years since we met had sculpted me into the womanly shape he wanted so, it had only seemed to pass him by.

My deliberation maybe lasted thirty seconds, before I set the box down on the table by the door. A deep breath, before I tilted my head, watching him from under lashes as I took a step back. Uninvited no more, but I wouldn't risk any misunderstanding. " You gonna come in then?"

The door swung shut, that sound no longer one of division, instead it closed off the sounds of unification.


"Uninvited"

Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot-blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
But you, you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Must be strangely exciting
To watch the stoic squirm
Must be somewhat heartening
To watch shepherd need shepherd
But you you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Like any uncharted territory
I must seem greatly intriguing
You speak of my love like
You have experienced love like mine before
But this is not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

I don't think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate

Arms of an Angel (Soundtrack series (2/?) )
SacredMacha
NotMySight at aol.com
Summary : what some consider a curse, others find a blessing
genre : song fic
Category: AU
Disclaimer : I'm laying off the whiskey. We'll see if I should just give in to the lure of Jack. I own nothing. Woe is me. Unbetad, so I could post before over thinking.




I had spent fifteen years searching, looking for any scrap or trace of the man I had been. Wanting, craving something to cling to when the nightmares dragged me from sweaty sheets to prowl around, fingers rubbing between my knuckles, where it itched. I couldn't find anything to tell me who I had been, other than maybe a man who worked hard, kept fit. My body told me that, even after I spent a night punishing myself, indulging my inner masochist and sadist at once, giving and receiving pain.

In truth, I was just waiting for a second chance. Something that would be worth working towards, working for. A person, a place, a purpose, that would be worth my sweat, my frustrations, my blood. I'd give it everything in my body that by rights should have been battered, but without a mark to show. I found it in the most unlikely of places, in the least likely of faces.

I'd seen her, all wide eyes and her pretty mouth agape, when I was fighting in the cage, not quite man or beast. Though I hadn't taken the time to not much else, I had the time later. The beast in me saw the fear, smelled it, mixed with the false bravado that covered the true bravery it took for a girl that age to sit there. Brave, unmarked female, and the beast in me wanted to make its mark. But the man in me prevailed, taking her age into account. I admired the fact she'd made it this far and could still look so innocent, dark eyes like aged brandy watching me from under the edge of that hood. What the beast wanted now, I knew would only get sweeter, like a berry when it ripens. So I let myself get distracted, ignoring the signs of danger. Just picturing what the years would polish on her...

It was her scream that made the claws come out. That mix of terror, fear, and just a hint of smothered anger, hit me hard and sent the Wolverine snarling into dominance. After, it was the wideness of her eyes, the way her breathing seemed to be clogged in her throat, that made me stalk out, the man wrestling with the Wolverine over leaving one lone little girl alone.

Then the little minx slipped herself into my trailer. Lucky for her I figured out something was off, before she froze her fool, hardheaded self to death. Even then, that would have made the beast mourn for something it recognized inside of her. Hell had broken loose then and kitty litter breath had shown up and rendered me useless to her.

Yet she hadn't resented me for a moment, eyes lighting up when she saw me up and around again. That look had puzzled me, after all, I hadn't done much but offer her a lift, keep her from freezing, rudely toss her some tough old jerky to eat. Now she had landed in the lap of luxury, like a kitten wandering into the creamery, but she still wanted my company. I figured I'd give Chuck his couple of days, and ride hell for leather before the beast got the better of me and I possibly broke some laws with a certain southern belle who looked at me like she'd melt in my mouth. I flirted with Jean to distract myself, like an idiot.

The first time Rogue touched me, I had been totally unprepared. It had hurt, because I'd been afraid. Horrified, that I had just killed the only person I had felt a connection with, a real connection, not just a sweaty physical one, since I woke up all those years ago. Even when I woke up, I didn't have a full appreciation of the blessing she had given me, how she had become my personal angel.

It took being on top of that statue, my heart breaking and the beast in me howling, to face it all. How I had been lying, using lies and bluffs to fill in the holes, so no one knew why I needed Rogue... Marie only to me. I had truly thought that keeping her alive was more than worth giving up my own life. I found the irony in the fact the woman child I held in my arms would finally be able to accomplish what I had secretly wanted to do before she'd shown up... I could escape it, my own madness. I could die with honor and give her all the love I held inside of me and no one would call it dirty or wrong, because sacrifice would make it noble.

My angel of mercy, my angel of death. Marie was my angel, making the madness seep from me, giving me a beautiful release. She let me be empty and weightless, sent me into the darkness of peace with her touch. It was good, it was right, and I had found that second chance..something worth living and dying for. Marie. My compassionate confessor, forgiving me my sins by taking them all away from me, and finding it in herself to live.

Of course, it didn't quite work out that way. She lived...but so did I. Waking up, sure I'd wake up in Purgatory at best, only to see Jean... talking about Rogue being taken with me... and misunderstanding what I meant about my heart belonging to someone else. It did, it belonged to Marie, not Rogue. I'd changed the subject so quickly on Jean because I didn't want to make her feel badly that it wasn't her I wanted. Nothing so bad about Jean, really, but she wasn't for me. Fine to flirt with, but not the girl I wanted to fix as mine.

So I waited, ...watched, waited some more. Watched her take her second chance, as bad as it might have started off with having me in her head... I got to watch her live. Really live, not just bop from day to day like so many of the kids did, sure of their own teenaged immortality. Marie had died, had survived, and took none of it for granted. I won't lie, it made me proud to see her, so strong, so smart, so full of love, even hampered by her mutation as she was. So many facets, like a diamond just starting to be cut and polished, as she got to be leaving her teenaged years behind.

I started watching her more closely, having to grit my teeth as she used all her tricks, playing me by using what there was inside her head of me. Subtle scents, colors she wore.... my girl was smart, even if she was in denial that she was my girl yet. So I sat back and watched, letting her find herself, watching each piece of the puzzle that was Marie snap into place, closing the holes her mutation had left in her growing up. Watched her play and toy with men at the bars I took her too, dancing so close to them, when she'd never even ask me once. I'm not much for dancing, but she knows I can't tell her no.

So,... I took it. Against what odds anyone might have given me, meaning Scott, I held my part, and kept myself back. I walked her to her room every night. A squeeze of her hand, before it would lift to pat me on the cheek, and then that quick brush of her lips too fast to let her mutation latch onto mine. I stood there, night after night, letting her step over that line into her room, watching her look at me over her shoulder, as that door swung shut to block her from my sight.

I could have gone in. I could have knocked, or just busted the door in. But I couldn't just walk into Marie's heart, and that was what I wanted. It was all too complicated for me to even puzzle out all at once. She had to let me in, step back from the threshold and trust me.

Finally, one night I'd just had enough. Her little yellow clad buddy there, Ju Ju bee or whatever her name is, was getting all sloppy over how she thinks how some animals mate for life. My eyes moved to Marie like she was the magnet to my gaze. I could see her looking back at me, doe eyes half hidden under white strands. Dragging the cigar out of my mouth, I just let the words come, without giving too much thought to how they would sound.

" Way it should be, when you find the one person that makes everything worth it. The one that makes it worth giving up anyone else that could ever cross your path. The one that makes you want to fly higher, to fight harder, to be the ultimate of all your parts. To be your anam cara. " Before I was putting the cigar back, wondering just why I had used that Irish term I'd read in some book once.

Marie had held her seat another moment, before she was up and running for her room. I'd had enough, myself. Enough of her running, and enough of just my own marking time. I went the opposite way, before I just followed her like a hunter its prey, and pounced on her. I couldn't afford to let all of my patience be for nothing. So I went up to my quarters, digging into my jacket, fingers finding that soft little velvet box I'd picked up when I'd headed up north after the statue incident. Opening the box, seeing the spark of deep green set flush in white gold. Even then, I'd kept her gloves in mind, how she could wear it under her gloves, even after I'd left her to be able to grow up without me watching after her, the wolverine in me salivating for her.

Feet led me too her door, a quick rap of knuckles against her door. I could smell the hint of her frustration, even under that vanilla lotion she likes to use on her skin. Lotion she started using all the time after I told her it was nice to not have fake flower scents clogging the air around her. I could sense her surprise, eyes jerking up to my face, she hadn't been expecting me. I held my hand out, watching her eyes drop and lift again, wide with disbelief. Pressing the box into her hand, the briefest of chills from her bare skin against mine. I just watched her face as she took a peek into that box, her scent full of changing emotions... hope, fear, and, thank god, desire.

"I know some people might not think I'm good enough for ya. Worthy of you. I had always hoped you thought different. " Words didn't come out quite like I hoped, and I flinched internally. I had meant to speak to her quietly, trying to talk her around to it. Well hell, I'm not Scott or some pansy to talk pretty. She knew me. I watched her staring at that ring, my muscles tightening with nervous tension before she looked me in the eye.

" Ah don't think you unworthy... Ah need a moment ..this should be somethin' ya think out and deliberate over..." Which only made me shift my weight back on my left foot, arms crossing over my chest as I felt one brow quirk up just a bit. My patience was just about out...just about. She maybe had another minute or two worth from me.


"So think about it, would you? I'm not gettin' any younger, Marie. " Yeah, patience was running out pretty damn quick. She laughed at that, eyeing the ring and me both. It seemed like a year, but I know it was only seconds before she set that box down, took a deep breath and stepped back. I knew what that meant. The Wolverine howled in satisfaction, sure all along she was the one to be its...our, mate. That look she gave me from under lashes all but brought me to my knees, as nervous tension flooded out of me.

" You gonna come in then?" She drawled in a heartbeat before I was inside her room, pressing her face to my chest and burying my face in her hair.

This time, I was the one to close the door. Not to keep us apart, but because we were together. Tonight, I could lay in the arms of my angel .


Angel by S. Maclachlan

Spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
for a break that would make it okay
there's always one reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
oh beautiful release
memory seeps from my veins
let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

in the arms of an angel
fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort there

so tired of the straight line
and everywhere you turn
there's vultures and thieves at your back
and the storm keeps on twisting
you keep on building the lie
that you make up for all that you lack
it don't make no difference
escaping one last time
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

in the arms of an angel
fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort there
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort here.

I wish I knew
SacredMacha
notmysight at aol.com
Rating : R for language
Summary:
Genre :songfic
Category: AU
Archive: You really want it? Just tell me, and you can take it!
Disclaimer : I wish I owned stuff. Like the Characters. But I don't.


I knew I shouldn't have done it. I never should have let Chuck talk me into going on that little fact finding mission for him. I knew why the guy did it, of course, I understood that it required a lower profile than Scott would have, or Hank, and the girls would have attracted more attention and blown any sort of low key undercover feel Chuck was shooting for.

But the hour after I left the mansion, hell five minutes on the road, I had a sinking feeling. I tugged the scarf Marie had slid into my pocket out, letting the scent of her left from the fabric to fill the cab of the truck. My thumb and forefinger toyed with a corner of it, remembering how I had given that scarf to her a few weeks back, just so I could run it over her cheek, kiss her through it. I was hellbent on Marie's working on her control, but even I was aware I had to be patient. She was mine now, at least where it counts, even if we were holding off on the physical. Though we'd come up with some interesting ways of driving each other crazy. Just seeing her trying on gloves is enough to get me hard, these days.

Those sorts of thoughts saw me through the drive to Wyoming. Yep, Wyoming, one of those states people tend to forget about when you mention it. There was some sort of big population explosion going on there, oil and such they'd found. So I was posing as a former Detroit auto worker, but I wasn't looking at one of the laborer's jobs. There was a new little government center going up on the outside of town, and I got a job as a security guard for the place. Boring as hell, and all they gave me was a flashlight, a cell phone, and pepper spray, for if anything *did* happen.Never realizing they let the 'enemy' in, with a smile and a promise of a paycheck.

Idiots.

So, after a while of adjusting, letting the guys who worked there get to trust me, being friendly while I roamed around. I met up with various guys at the bar, or one of the local diners. I sort of let it lay that I had a girl, but she'd had to go back east to be with her family, especially since I didn't know how things were when I came out here. The guys accepted that, but I never used the phone in the trailer I rented, instead buying a prepaid phone card and driving to various spots to call back to Chuck, who would make sure to have Marie on hand to give the phone over to. Calling once a week, and talking until the card ran out, it was never enough. It was to the point I hated having to tell her I had to go, the card was almost out, even as I could feel my stomach tightening while she whispered.

" Keep yourself safe now. Ah'll be waitin' for ya." Then that soft sigh, click of the phone before it went to that buzz, severing what connection there had been. Then I'd give a groan, hang up the phone, and quietly shred that phone card and head home.

I was getting more chummy with the brains of the place. I heard things they let slip, about plans for a mutant sort of prison, a rehab for criminal mutants, and various ways to 'cure' different kinds of mutations. I did my best to keep my face looking bored and blank whenever they realized I might be in earshot, but I had to admit, at times, it was a bitch. I just wanted those files to see what they'd do for someone like Marie, see if it was feasible for her to do it if it would help her learn control. Okay, so for her to learn control, and to let us touch. My girl wanted it as much as I did, if not more. I think that was why we were holding off on the big finale. She wanted it to be just me, and just her, nothing in between our skins. I was a patient guy, but if I could find a way to help expedite the process well... hey, I'm still a man. I'm a man with one helluva gorgeous girlfriend, with big brown eyes I wanted to watch widen when we could touch skin on skin, and soft, creamy skin I wanted to take my time with and savor on my tongue. Don't think anyone can blame me there.

I guess someone picked up on my interest in their shop talk. I noticed they were starting to watch me some, and no one seemed as at ease with me, after I had worked so hard, and yes it was hard, to make them feel that way. I had to be social and chatty and all those things Scott is and I'm not.I did my best to carry on like nothing was different, but they still were watching. It made me itchy, to the point that after work one day, I finally flipped open the cell phone Chuck had given me when I got back to my dinky trailer. I didn't dare do it before, but now I felt going to a payphone would be even more suspicious. I filled Chuck in pretty quick, I'm good at summing up the situation. He mulled it over for about 30 seconds, and as much as he thinks I'm hyper aware to the point of being paranoid at times, he told me to follow my instinct.

So I went in for a last day of work, told them things were going bad for my girl's family, and she needed me to come to her. Gave apologies, turned in keys and stuff. Went back to the trailer and started tossing my meager wardrobe into my duffel.

I should have knowing it wouldn't be that easy.

Just as I was heading out the door to everything over to the shifty looking guy I was renting the dump from, I flinched when I thought I heard something behind the shed I parked my truck in front of. Duffel tossed into the back of the truck, before I was walking quietly to check it out. There was a sharp stab of pain in my neck, before graying dizziness dragged me down to the ground, and then went black.


I woke up, my hands covered in things that looked like boxing gloves, heavy, and weighing me down more than the chains at wrist and ankle. Examining the situation, back against a concrete wall, a couple of lingering aches where someone had gotten in shots while I was down. From what I could see, though, I was pretty whole. Stuck in some dank, damp cell, but whole.

Then someone came in, a guard, waving Marie's scarf like some sort of matador's cape. It worked, I tried to unleash the claws.. only to have the gloves stop them. Lined with adamantium, and it was a painful jolt up the arms that strained chains holding me down. He waved that scarf in my face, filling my nose with Marie's scent tainted by his own.

Fucker was gonna die.

They wanted me to talk. Who was I working for, why did I want to know about the mutant program, who else had I told... I didn't say much, and they kept working me over pretty good. Subjecting me to a lot of tests I don't want to remember, and some things I can't remember. Made me sick more than once, but eventually they gave up and hoped to use me for bait. I was grateful I'd only made the one call to Chuck on the cellphone, and when they knocked me out, one of the guys kicking me around busted it to bits, rendering that useless. Thanking the god Marie told me she believed in, because if they couldn't find Chuck, my girl was safe from this. Safe from the burning hot needles prodding into me, the screaming pain inside as they tried to peel my skin off of me. I couldn't break, couldn't give in.. because they'd do this or worse to Marie, to the people I cared about, admit it or not.

It took a few months, three I was told later, though that put no real time reference on the stretch of hell I'd been immersed in.Three months for them to be able to get Jeannie and Chuck to get a fix on my head, and let it lead them to me, on top of the two and a half I'd been gone before hell broke loose. I'd never been so happy to see Scooter in my life. Only thing that worried me, was when we finally got me out of the cell I was in, the guard who had taunted me with the scarf promptly gutted as I had promised myself, was that I couldn't scent Marie. She wasn't there, not in the facility, not on the plane, only a faint trace of her scent lingered in the blackbird.

"Jeannie, where's Rogue? " I asked, letting her poke at me and check me over, humoring her. I saw eyes flick sidelong to Hank, the big blue bear who was fixing up a slice in the arm of Scott. I even felt a jerk in Ororo's usually smooth handling of the plane. The scent of nervousness, guilt, even sorrow was sudden and overwelming. My hands closed around Jeannie's wrists, probably tighter than was comfortable. I stared at her face. " Jeannie.. where's Rogue?" Doing my best to keep myself restrained, even as I felt her pulse race.

" We thought it best she not come, Logan. She's been... well.. " She sputtered and stuttered a moment, until Scott came up and put a hand on her shoulder, silencing her.

" Rogue was understandably upset when we found out you'd been taken. She got belligerent, demanding to go when we thought we'd found the lead. You weren't there, of course... and she got.. well she behaved like you do in a rage. Problem was, her gloves were off, and she got caught up in a fight. Nasty character, he could throw something like bone shards that were inside him and then he ripped out. She drained him as a last resort.. she.. well she hasn't been the same since. She can't seem to put him away, as she says. It's made her.. unpredictable. We didn't dare bring her. "

"Unpredictable?" My hands dropped from holding onto Jean, even as I slid to my feet with a jerk. " What happened to her, Scott? " Standing to to toe with him, eyes glaring into the reflection in his visor. I could hear him swallow, aware that he was in easy killing range.

" She's distanced herself from us, Logan. She felt like she was outcast, and having the new... presence in her head.. she just.. she wanted away, and Xavier gave it to her. She's in the little house out by the lake. We all thought it best, and we didn't dare tell her we were coming to find you... in case you weren't there, or it was a dead end again. " I could tell he was telling the truth, just by his scent. He was feeling guilty, nervous as hell, and.. sad, about something. Well, Scott always had that sort of big brother concern about Marie, especially when she'd had to touch someone. As far as I was concerned, it was one of his few redeeming qualities.

But being concerned, didn't quite mesh with how uptight everyone had gotten when I asked after my Marie. Something wasn't right, and as soon as we touched down, I was going to find my girl and find out what.

All I knew part 2 (soundtrack series 3/?)
SacredMacha
NotMySight at aol.com
Rating : R
Summary : Things just don't bode well..
Category : AU/post X3
Genre : Songfic (sorta)
Archine : Sure, just tell me.
Disclaimer : I own nothing but a few bottles of Jim Beam. Unbetad, all blame is mine (and Jim's). And a toast to Wolverine'ess for " So go out and get the muses sloshed and at your service." See what happens when I listen to the devil on my shoulder?






I managed to keep myself from pacing until 'Ro landed the jet. I took a shower and changed, not wanting the months of stink, fear, the day's blood and gore on me when I saw Marie again.

My boots felt almost as if I'd borrowed them from a stranger, tight and chafing at my ankles as my strides took me over the grass. Wintery and cold when I left, now there was summer breathing over the lawn, stirring the scents of the flowers 'Ro tended to.

I could see the lake house, knowing the compact, three room structure from the inside out. I had fixed it up, at Chuck's repeated request. I know he was thinking if the crowdedness of the mansion got to me, this could be an alternative for me. But I had gotten to like having Marie just down the hall, having the room to roam the big house at night, or duck down the stairs into the Danger Room on the nights my nightmares wouldn't let me sleep.

Now it was Marie the little house held isolated, apart from the bigger goings on at the mansion. I knew my girl had only ever wanted to be included, a part of things. She didn't need to feel like the main attraction, she just wanted a part to claim as hers. A space no one but her could fill. This wasn't the space she wanted, the little house I was closing in on.

One of the first things I noticed, was that despite the fact it was a gorgeous day, with breezes that kept everything smelling warm and clean, the drapes were drawn shut, the windows not even cracked. Dark green drapes, ones Marie had picked out, that would keep the sun out and the dull dark in. Heavy fabric she'd picked out, matching it to the couch, picking paint and the dozen other things I knew nothing about. I'd made it safe to inhabit, Marie was the one who had made it seem like a haven.Helping me sand and varnish some of the old furniture to set in there, painting the walls... maybe this was her space, and she just hadn't wanted it then.

Knock on the door wasn't responded to, so I let myself in. I almost gagged on the scent, the drapes keeping in the scent of smoked cigarettes, cigars, beer, bourbon, and a tangle of other things I didn't know half so well to know off hand. Leaving the door open to air the place out, tromping out the back door, out onto the deck that edged out over the water itself. Dull, thunking sounds, sounds I knew well, like my claws biting into a tree, led me out there. Scent of sweat, anger, rage, twisted around the sweet scent of Marie.

I had barely cleared the doorframe out of the house, when that slender little figure, clad in black t-shirt and ragged cuttoffs, turned, wrist snapping. Bone blade biting into my throat, as gasping, ripping sound as it sank in to slice open windpipe. Eyes that weren't the sweet darkness of well aged blackberry brandy gleamed, a perversion of my Marie's smile crossing her face.

"Bullseye. " That voice wasn't even hers, not really. Too much of a rasp, the edges too crisp and lacking her drawl. Even as I dragged that projectile out of my skin, feeling it knitting together again, I took stock of her. Too thin, she'd lost weight. Signs of not sleeping, especially the circles under her eyes. Scent of smoke hovered around her as if she had a lit cancer stick in her mouth, corrupting the lighter scent of her soap, her shampoo.

Eyes batted lashes rapidly, that eerie golden cast leaving her eyes dark again, expression horrified. Hands yanked through her hair, clenching big clumps as she sank to her knees.

" Logan! Oh gawd, sugar,. Ah'm sorry, so sorry. Ah can't... Ah can't control him. He just.. he gets angry and Ah have ta come out here for fear of bustin' up the house with his bone blades and.. Ah never meant ta.." her accent was thick, almost overwhelming her words the way it did when she was upset. I tugged on the gloves I'd slipped into my back pocket before I got closer to her. I hated that she was tainted by this creep who wouldn't let my girl be herself, his habits leaving their mark and pervading her scent with his vices.

"Shh.. Marie, it'll be okay. We'll get through this, like we have before. I'm here, babe, I won't let this hurt you any more than it has. " Leather clad finger tracing along her chin, before I was shoved flat on my ass. It wasn't my Marie standing in front of me anymore.

"No! No, no, no, no and fucking No! " Shouted at me, bare feet making the slapping, shuffling sound as they crossed the wood of the deck before I watched her slam the door.

I hesitated, debating between the logic of the man and the instiact of the animal. Animal won out, shoulder used to bust in that door. Cigarette freshly lit and burning in an ashtray, but no figure of Marie. The bathroom door was shut, so I tried that first. Locked. That one was a little easier to bust open, though I'd have to replace it, after hearing the splintering of the frame as hinges tore from the wood. I could have cared less, seeing what I was. Myself, in a mirror, Marie caught in the reflection of the glass. Guilt peeling away from her expression in layers. Wide brandy eyes, the pupils contracted. Dark circles under her eyes only undercut how pale her skin was, even as she lowered her head to let her hair fall into her face. Trying to hide the hand pressed to her face, under the edge of her nose as she sniffled, wiping away the grains of white that clung to skin just above her lips. I stood there, unnaturally still, trying to process what I was seeing. The small mirror balanced on the edge of the sink, one of the straight edged blades of bone laying on it, covered in a white powder, the same that Marie wiped from her face.

My girl was using cocaine, and no one knew it? I felt something inside me give way, like my heart was plummeting to my feet, and smashing there. Smashing into bits like the mirror, as I swiped it off the sink and into the wall. There was coke on my gloves as I grabbed her, shaking her. I knew I shouldn't knew I could hurt her, but my fury was blinding me. Even as I could hear her sobbing, feel her going weak in my hands, the man lost out to the animal. It wasn't until she was sliding bonelessly to the floor that I stopped.

Vision was slow to focus again, kneeling on tiled floor, floor I had laid myself, with Marie's help. Lashes lay like breaking waves against her cheeks, skin cool as she lay breathing shallowly. I didn't know if it was a natural breakdown of her system, just retreating to unconciousness, or the drugs, or if I had somehow done damage. My heart slowed, almost stilled, as I counted the beat of hers. I didn't dare wait, didn't bother to look for a phone.

Lips pressed to her forehead, that chill along my spine as her skin lashed out with its power to rip some of mine from my cells. Only moments, too brief to be a cure all, but I didn't dare hold on too long. Couldn't risk losing conciousness, not with her so violently unstable, and unsure of herself. I found the phone, and after snarling at Ju Ju Bee, or whatever the hell her name was, wondering what the hell sort of friend she was to Marie, I got Hank on the line, and told him Marie needed him. Now I don't know Hank all that well, but I respected the way he didn't ask dumb questions or hem and haw. Just told me he was on his way, just grabbing his things. How the guys sounds so eternally cheerful even knowing I wasn't asking him to come over and have tea is beyond me. I just knew he was a better choice than Red. Marie and Jeannie had issues, and if I knew anything about the girl called Rogue, she didn't want Jean to see her this way.

Hank came over, I let him him, showed him the vices my girl had been drowning herself in, feeling sick inside, because my fault or not, I hadn't been there. I couldn't have stopped the tequila and bourbon drinking, from the look of empty liter bottles she'd gotten quite a habit. The cigarettes, overflowing ashtrays and empty cartons littering tabletops. The occasional cigar stub, the traces of joints laying among the butts. The cocaine smeared sink, the baggie I showed Hank, who took it before I could flush it. To test to be sure it wasn't laced, he said. He was the doctor, so I let him have it.

He told me he had known Marie was having a hard time assimilating the new presence in her head, but had no idea the process had been so hard on her, vice-ridden and violent. I could smell the regret off of him, and he knew I could. That was when he hit me with the bad news. My mutation could help her get a little stronger, and my presence in her mind could either help or hinder, but we had to cut her off from the drugs and everything altogether. All at once was best, he said. If the voice in her head made her do these things, eliminating them might weaken the hold he had on Marie's mind, and help her to push him back, like she had the others.

The worse news, was that we had to do it where Marie could go through withdrawals, and not kill anyone. Addicts can get violent, incoherently so, even as their systems are trying to regain lost ground. Which meant one thing. Someone had to be here, with Marie, at all times. That meant me, really. Someone hard to kill, someone Marie trusted, someone that could help her in ways that others never understood. I made the decision then and there, with Marie sprawled out, unhealthy and unconcious on the bed.

If Hank had any hesitations, they didn't show. He packed up his honest to god black doctor's bag, and said he'd have some of my clothes sent over, and make sure we were kept fully supplied with food, though she wouldn't wany any for a while, and vitamins and other things, for her and me. I could get by on little sleep perhaps, he said, but I still needed to do my best to be as healthy as I could, for Marie. As an example, a person to lean on, and if I had to touch her.

God it was hard, so hard. Watching her wake up, tied hand and one foot to the bed. Listening to her screams, that voice that I had lived to hear on the phone every day, crying, pleading. When that didn't work, she yelled, cursing me with words I didn't even think she knew. I learned fast enough to only give her plastic glasses, paper plates, so I could stop cleaning up broken glass and plates.Taking her to the bathroom was a humiliating experience for us both. I wouldn't let her up without restraints, and well, that hindered her doing anything. I loved Marie, but this situation was bringing a brutal sense of violating her privacy, and yet intimacy all at once. I wasn't even withdrawing from drugs, and I was sure as hell confused by it.

It did, however, leave a lot of time for talk. Marie, when she was the one running the show in her head, always wanted me close, in the room, talking to her. I found myself telling her things I hadn't even realized myself. About the beautiful sunsets out in Wyoming, the way the roads seemed to go forever there. Things I had seen, and wanted to share with her. I'm not a man for words, but I wound up trying to paint her pictures with adjectives, just to distract her from the hell she was in.

I found out that while the drugs, the drinking, had started with the addition in her head, she'd foind out she liked it. Tequila gave her a heady buzz, that feeling of unreality, and mixed with the cocaine, she'd felt like she could fly. She'd started doing it even when she was the one in the forefront of her mind, using that escape to forget she was shunned, an island unto herself. That she wasn't being let in, a part that was set apart from the rest, always on the edges.

She knew I'd understand the need, the lonliness that had driven her so far beyond what she had set out to be, partly out of her own darkness, and partly because of the voices in her head. I battled the lonliness by fighting in cages, sleeping with women that had become faceless in my memory, women with names I no longer recalled, because they had only mattered for that moment, that night, not being alone for that little while.

Marie didn't even have that.I loved her, sure, and she knew it. She and I had spent many nights laying close, one or the other of us dressed, making each other crazy. But it wasn't the same. There wasn't that immediate feeling of intimacy, sharing everything, letting another person into yourself, sharing that most simple, yet complicated sensations of sharing and pressed skin on skin.

"We'll get there, darlin'. I promise.I know the feelin' of bein' alone. Trust me, and don't keep that on the inside. I'm gonna be here for you. Even if you can't see me. " Those words took a bit of a push to say, and I knew a rush of depression when the eyes in front of me changed, and a torrent of hate and profanity was unleashed at me. I just walked out of the room, doing my best to ignore him, until Marie was in control again. It was all I could do, and what Marie encouraged me to do. I couldn't take it, hearing those words, seeing them twist her mouth.

I'd taken to fixing things when I had to leave Marie alone to become Marie again. I'd found the stashes of coke, all with their own little mirrors attached to the bags with tape. Pot, some pills in a bottle rattling around in a kitchen cupboard. I got rid of them all, silently grieving at the thoughts of what could, and what had, happened to my girl. So many bad things, and I hadn't been here to help her, not at all. I'd been trapped in my own hell, as tied down as she was right now.

I replaced the bathroom door, patched up some minor damage done around the house. All of it happened at a snail's pace, because when Marie was coherently herself, I was right there by her side. Holding her hand, mine shielded with leather gloves, so we didn't have to fuss with hers, with the bonds on her.She hated being tied up, even though she knew why I had to do it. It reminded her of magneto, which always made me want to wince. Another of my failing moments, even if I had managed to save her life, she never should have been in danger to begin with.

Maybe it was the guilt that did it, after she seemed to be better, more in control, herself more often than not. I let her up, perhaps a foolish move. She begged to be allowed to take a bath without me hovering, just to soak and relax. Such a small request, and she'd been struggling so much to regain herself. I thought maybe a bath, submerged in the scented bubbles she uses, would help. After all, I knew just how deeply scent could affect you.

But the sound of running water didn't hide the sound of her searching in the bathroom. I went to the door, pushing it open and leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest. She looked at me, Marie and yet not, eyes wide with guilt.

" All gone, Marie.All of it. The pills, the powder, the pot. Flushed down the toilet, thrown in the trash. No more, darlin'. Not ever, not for you. Those mirrors aren't your friends, baby. You aren't alone anymore.Step away from that edge. " She looked almost panicked, as I stepped closer. All her skin exposed, and no gloves on my hands. Just a kiss, that was all I gave her. Press of lips on lips until I felt the teeth of her mutation closing on me, then I stepped back, and left her to that bathtub of bubbles.

It took a while, but after the drugs flushed out of her system.. well, Marie's going to be all right. She's gaining weight again, and slowly shoving that newest voice into the background. She's not my girl again, not yet, but I can see her again, slowly coming into focus, a reflection in a mirror losing its haze.

This time, I'm going to be here when she's herself again. Because I know she needs me as much as I need her, and maybe together we can find a way to cast the lonliness out, for good.





Artist: Jude
Song: I know
Album: No One Is Really Beautiful
[" No One Is Really Beautiful " CD]

You've got such a pretty smile
It's a shame the things you hide behind it
Let 'em go
Give it up for a while
Let 'em free and we will both go find it

I know there's nowhere you can hide it
I know the feeling of alone
I know that you do not feel invited
But, come back, come back in from the cold

Step away then from the edge
Your best friend in life is not your mirror
Back away, come
Back away, come
Back away, come
Back away, come
Back away, come
Back away...
I am here and I will be forever and ever and I ...

I know that there's nowhere you can hide it
I know the feeling of alone
Trust me and don't keep that on the inside
Soon you'll be locked out on your own

You're not alone
You're not alone
And don't say you've never been told
I'll be with you 'til we grow old
'Til I'm in the ground and I'm cold
I'm not sitting up here on some throne
I'll be with you 'til we grow up young
Like a dog you can always come home
Dig up a bone
Look around Down baby downtown
Don't throw me to the pound...

Feel Love
SacredMacha
notmysight at aol.com
Rating : R
Summary : Sometimes, knowing there's love isn't enough
Category : Au/post X3
Songfic
Archive: Sure.
Disclaimer : I don't own characters or music. Unbetad, again, so my fault for mess ups.



He was making me crazy. Just seeing him, down the hall, coming in out of the rain, shaking out of his leather jacket... it was all too much to handle. My hands itched inside satin, lace, or leather, hot with the need to touch him, stroke covered fingertips over his hair. Lean against him and melt there, the fire inside me burning so hot my bones felt liquified.

I wanted to grab him with my hands, twine my legs around him, lick along his lips and nip at his pulse point. I wanted to drag my nails down his back, and make him howl. But I knew I couldn't, not without killing him and it would make me want to kill myself. He made me want to be so many things. Not just Marie, the touchable. He made me want to be the girl next door, the busty blonde centerfold, the teasing redhead at the corner bar. He made me want to be anyone, and anything he wanted, just so long as he would touch me.

He only made it worse, reaching out to ruffle my hair, a kiss to the top of my head when we watched a movie. His arm around my shoulders, or hands at my waist when I was leaning back against him when we'd stand in the kitchen to talk and hang out. The way he nuzzled his face into the curve of my neck, his breath hot and filtered through my hair.

When I thought he was lost to me, I could have managed. We'd had such a short time since that night he'd finally upped the ante and called my bluff. His ring sat on my finger under my gloves, unless we were out on a mission. Now, with him back, his having saved me again from not only the possession of someone in my head, but my own demons, it was something I was sure I was going to die. Slowly, painfully, and in much agony, just from wanting him so much.

Once, I was grateful for the fact he wanted me near him, would reach out to touch me at all. Fingers playing with my hair, brush of fingers along my cheek in just a shadow of a touch. Things no one else was brave enough to do, Logan did casually, as if it should be standard daily practice to let the girl with killer skin sit curled up to you on the couch, to take her for rides on the motorcycle, cheek pressed to your shirt covered back. Most people thought cloth was too little a barrier to trust against my skin, as if I would ooze poison all over them and kill them without regard. For Logan, fabric was an enemy to be defeated, little by little.

God knows he's been trying. Before Chuck sent him on that little mission, it seemed like we were making a little headway. Brushes of fingers against skin could linger a moment, then the space of a few heartbeats, before the connection had to be broken. Risks taken, little kisses, brush of a hand along my lower back where sometimes a hint of skin showed below the hem of my t-shirt. Logan loved playing with danger, no doubt, but I know too, that he loved seeing the way those touches made my pupils go wide, or my cheeks flush. Hear me catch my breath before I turned to give him a look from under lashes, twisting my scarf between fingertips. That scarf soon the only thing between his mouth and mine, as I tried to will my mutation away, so I could just have more, and more.

Nights spent, taking turns on who stayed covered and who didn't. The man knew how to tease, leather clad fingertips just running over my skin, again and again, whispery touches that anyone else would have ignored. I shivered and swore at him, so deprived of casual contact that such touches sent me soaring, even before that scarf slid over my skin for more sinful, sensuous sensations. He left me sweating and short of breath, but it was never enough. I wanted more, I wanted all of him.

He was so damned sure, that enough time and work, we'd have it all. That I'd be in control of my mutation, and we could stop the blasted games and be together the way I dreamt of. I sure hope none of the telepaths in the school were easily offended, because they got more graphic than any NC-17 movie I'd glimpsed. Skin on skin, satin and scarves in play, it didn't matter to me. I wanted him, and the sooner, the safer for everyone around me.

I woke up, dreams still fresh in my mind, wanting to go to his door, waiting for him to open it and let me in. Wanting him to curl his fingers in my hair, and drag me into his room, up against him. I wanted to feel his teeth biting at my neck, hear him growl in my ear. I wanted to let him use that wide collection of scarves to tie me up to the bed. I wanted so damned much, even in my dreams. Dreaming of him finding me out on the grounds in the rain, tackling and tumbling us both the grass. His claws cutting away the soaked t-shirt I'd be wearing, and his mouth hot on rain chilled skin.

Don't get me wrong, I love Logan, and I love that he wants me to have everything. It's terribly sweet and strong of him, to try and torture himself, limiting himself to the touches we have. He wants that final tumble to be skin on skin, nothing but he and I, and wherever our desires take us. No one would ever know he was that romantic, not with the rugged exterior and rough language.

But when I'd absorbed the last guy, gotten myself jacked up on more foreign substances than I want to think about... I'd lost it. Even that precious almost minute he could kiss me before my mutation sparked to life and severed the safety of the touch. I was starting over again, and again, and while it might have worked out for Promethius, it wasn't working for me. I couldn't do this anymore, not to me, and not to Logan. Everyone gives him too little credit, thinking the Wolverine is the dominant side, but even an animal can appreciate the right moment and the right mate.

I just couldn't make him wait for the right moment anymore, not if I was going to be the right woman. For both our sakes. Now it was a matter of doing it without him getting in my way.

So, in a rather Logan like fashion, I left. Unlike Logan, there was a note behind, saying I'd be back.. when I was ready for he and I to be us, and stop this torture of touching and yet not touching.

I'd be back when I could feel love.


Feelin' Love :Paula Cole

Love, love

You make me feel like a sticky pistil...
leaning into a stamen
You make me feel like a mister sunshine...
Himself
You make me feel like splendor in the grass...
While we're rollin'
Dance with me baby
You make me feel like the Amazon's runnin' between...
my thighs

CHORUS:

You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love

You make me feel like a candy apple
All red and horny
You make me feel like I wanna be a dumb blonde
In a centerfold, the girl next door
And I would open the door and...
I'd be all wet
With my tits soaking through this tiny little t-shirt...
That I'm wearing
And you would open the door and tie...
Me up to the bed

Chorus

Lover, but I don't know who I am
Am I Barry White? Am I Isis? Ohhh...
Lover, I'm laced with your unconscious
Oh baby babe babe baby
I will be your Desdemona ahhhhh...

Take your time

You make me feel Ahaa
You make me feel WooWoo baby
You make me feel Ahaa mmm
You make me feel loved

Closest to Heaven (soundtrack series 5/ 6)
Sacredmacha
notmysight at aol.com
Rating : PG- 13?
Summary - I just wanted him to know who I am
Genre - angsty romance?
Category- post X3/AU
Disclaimer : I don't own the characters, or the song. More the suck.
Archive: Sure!




I was back... well, sort of. No one knew I was even in the state of New York again except Jubilee. My best friend, who had bawled me out when I finally dared call after taking off. She was the one telling me over the phone, through text messages, even Ims when I could get on a computer and online, what everyone was up to. Ok, mostly about Logan, what he was up to, and what he was doing. She was the only one who knew where I was, since I had wisely not taken my cell phone with me, instead getting a prepaid one, so no one got the bright idea of trying to locate my old cell phone via gps and tell Logan where I was. This was something I had felt I had to do, by myself, if I was ever going to stand on my own two feet. I couldn't be with Logan, and be less than a whole woman.

Truth was, I had no intention of setting foot in the mansion. Not just yet, anyhow, and Fate had been kind for once. Jubes told me that once I left, Logan had stormed around the mansion for three days, before he'd packed his stuff. Everyone had been sure he'd be blowing town to go look for me, but he'd taken off for a weekend, come back, and set himself up in that little house by the lake. It made my chest ache, when I'd think about it, think about the time spent there, the good and the downright awful. Me drying out from drugs and alcohol, and Logan, sometimes impatiently and ill concealed restlessness, holding my hand. While the memories were bittersweet, I knew why Logan had gone there. If I was going to fix myself, he was going to put himself in the place he'd gotten to find out about the darker parts of me, things I couldn't have shared before. He was waiting, and somehow that made me feel like my heart was going to snap into two pieces.

When I'd taken off, I'd meant to head west. Instead, I'd just drifted to the south. Not Mississippi, to be sure, but southern enough that my accent was thick again, and I'd been able to have my southern cooking I'd missed up north. I'd taken a job waiting tables, more often clearing them, and managing to avoid being touched. People wondered at my hair, but telling them it happened after I was in an accident, they looked away, embarassed. As far as I was concerned, better they felt embarrassed then find out what I was. I didn't want them knowing, because that meant being treated differently.

I got myself a tiny little apartment, all but a rat hole of a place, that was over a bar that was open until the wee hours. But it was mine, and I got to be alone there, alone to try and accomplish what I'd set out to do. Meditation for hours on end, using techniques Logan had taught me. Patience and more patience, weeks turning into months. More and more I focused, only to discover the best I could do, when I had found myself a friendly mutant neighbor who allowed me to test out my theories in practice, was a few minutes. A few minutes, a precious few minutes, but still not nearly enough.

It was December by the time I made up my mind, Jubilee describing the snow to me, how the kids were enjoying it, and how Logan, who'd taken on a job as a physical education instructor, was fond of making winter games part of their classes. I had felt a moment of heartbreak, thinking he was finally giving up on me, until Jubes went on to tell me how sometimes he still paused, as if listening for something. How at times he would stare at one of the phones scattered around the mansion, as if he could will it to ring, and have me on the other end.

But even the verbose Jubilee had nothing to say when I told her I'd be home.

"You get it figured out, chica?" Was the cautious question, hopeful but not overly joyous, not yet.

" Not exactly. " It was all I could say. I knew what was coming next, gritting my teeth.

" So long as you know what you're doing, chica, and it's gonna make you happy. I'm not about to lecture you." Too bad she just had.

" Yeah, Ah know. Listen Jubes, Ah gotta go, it's almost time for work. Don't tell anyone I'm coming home, okay?"

"Never. Be careful, and call me soon." The click was quick, like the call. We never talked for long, didn't dare, in case someone could overhear her. The only time we got to talk was Saturday nights, when she could get one of the vehicles and go for a drive, supposedly to pick up fast food, or whatever else she told them she was craving. It got so I lived for Saturday nights, just so I could have her tell me about all the people I loved.

So I gave my notice at my job, told my landlord of my plans to move out, overindulged in good southern food I knew I wouldn't get back in New York. I meditated still, hoping for some freak breakthrough. No such luck though, and soon enough, the day in red circled on my calendar came.I showered and dressed carefully, applying makeup with a hand that shook, just a bit.As if makeup and a pretty dress would make what I was doing better. Deep breaths wouldn't settle the odd quake in my stomach, either, as I stared up at a building that looked like a dozen others around it, glass and steel, meant to look like working art, but just looking cold in the overcast morning. I squared my shoulders, took anothe rdeep breath, and plowed my way through the main lobby, and up the stairs. Elevators were often crowded, and something I tended to avoid.

I signed my name on the line, and killed time staring blindly at glossy magazine pages. My heart kept up a crazy pace, fast and occasionally missing a beat, which hurt.
My name was called, or the name I had given, and I shuffled into a room that was as colorless as my thoughts felt. I signed my name some more, nodded my head in a numb sort of fashion.I closed my eyes, and pretended I was already back home, with Logan's arms around me, keeping me safe. I ignored the world as I left that building behind, and crawled onto the futon that had served as my bed for three months now.The room spun, colors returned in a sickening rush, I heard myself moaning, then everything went black.

I gave Martin, the mutant guy who lived across the hall from me, all the things of mine he could use. I didn't have need of them, and they wouldn't fit in the tiny car I rented. I didn't want to be weighed down anymore by excess things. He gave me a hug and a ruffle of my hair, and waved me off when I left.

I hit the road, a couple of wrapped po'boys and an order of fried okra to keep me company, as well as a few bottles of Coca cola. Pure southern fare, something I knew I would miss. Tenesee and Kentucky flew by, up into Ohio before I caught the dreaded Interstate eighty, to ride it through Pennsylvania, and catching the spoke of three eighty to shoot on up into New York.Once safely across the border into the state I had for a while called home, I rented a room, feeling tired, cramped, and disgusting. A long hot bath, room service's breakfast dish of pancakes and eggs, and I passed out cold for eighteen hours. A hot shower, change of clothes, and I wandered the streets of Manhattan a while. I turned in my rental car, and went to sit in this little twenty four hour diner called the Tick Tock diner, a few blocks down from the Port Authority.

Finally I saw that remembered, favorite yellow coat come through the door, and I forgot all about the food on my plate, arms open wide to hug Jubes. Money dumped on the table, and out to the car to let Jubes drive us back to Salem Center. She, of course, had the music cranked, and babbled about Bobby making ice igloos for the little kids and sculptures, and in general showing off. I was fiddling with the gloves on my hands, tugging at the fingertips, then smoothing them back down. I caught the odd look Jubes shot me, but she, being my best friend and only confidante at the moment, kept her silence.

She dropped me off before we got too far into the gates, a one armed hug and a wish for luck in her native Chinese tongue that she rarely uses. I could tell from that, paired with the husky tone in her voice, that she was emotional about it. I promised she could drag my stuff up to her room, and I'd come get it one way or the other.

I was amused by the snow under my feet, perfect, not too fluffy, meant for skiing and snowmen and winter silliness.I scuffed through it with my boots, watching the flakes puff up into the air, then settle over the ground again in little mounds. I could smell woodsmoke, the lakehouse looming more and more imminent in front of me. I was delaying, telling myself I was just enjoying the crispness of hte cold hair along my skin, smelling burning wood in the air. Truth was, I was terrifed.

I peeled off the woolen gloved, fingers flexing as I looked at them. Slender, oval nails filed short, pale, unmarked skin. Knuckles ached when I rapped them against the heavy wooden front door, heart in my throat. The other glove was next, both of them shoved into my coat pocket, as I waited. I didn't run because I couldn't. My legs felt locked stiff. Would he slam the door in my face? Would he be angry, out of my reach? So many scenarios playing in my head in fractions of a second.

Door jerked open, letting the smell of Logan, cigar smoke, burning candles and the fire in the hearth wash out over me in a rush of warmed air. My eyes locked on his chest, being clung to by a tight white shirt tucked into jeans. That was all I could notice, before his hand was jerking the cigar from his mouth, my eyes lifting to his face. His eyes were golden, almost amber, as he stared at me. I could see the tightening in his jaw, before the eyebrow arched up in a way that made me want to run my finger over it. Taking his cocky lean against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

"Hey, sugar." It was all I could say. Words were failing me so badly. I had longed for this moment for how long, and now I had nothing to say? I had pictured it a thousand times. How I would dress to the nines, do my hair, paint my nails. Be teasing and seductive and have playful turns of phrase until there was nothing left to say, just time to touch.

"Hey, yourself. You get lost on your way up to the big house? " Rough voice, but those words were teasing, in that way only Logan could.A sniff. " Been with Juju bee, hmm? She leave you out here in the cold with the big bad wolf? " A smirk, as I was wearing a green hooded long goat, almost identical to the one I had been wearing when he ...well found me.

"Well, this sure doesn't look like mah grandma's house, sugar. Gonna let me in? Ah don't wanna go up to the main house. Ah don't want them to see. Ah need ta talk to ya. " Hands rubbed together, and that drew his attention. Amber eyes, so like those of a wolf, dipped down, then back up to my face. "Logan, Ah..."

" I know, Marie. " Sliding up straight, hand on my shoulder as he brought me in, in his arms. Face pressed to his chest as he shut the door, and cut off the rest of the world. Just us, just the way I wanted, the way I needed. Hand carefully rubbing over my hair, as my arms wrapped around his lower back, hanging on to him for all I was worth. All I could breathe in was the scent of him, the way it mingled with the scent of green apple from my hair, the vanilla from my skin. I could almost taste it, the mix of us, on my lips. My tongue slid out to run along my lower lip, as if to taste test the theory, looking up at him. He reached over, tossing the butt of that cigar into the fire, letting it burn away with the scnet of fine tobacco.

"Don't send me away tonight, Logan. Ah don't wanna miss you another night. Please?" Just this side of pleading, before his mouth dared touch mine. He knew. Oh god. Hands slid up his sides, to curl and lock together behind his neck. Kissing him slowly, tongues tangling and teasing, slow, hot, and.... everything I had wanted it to be. Dear god, that man can kiss!

"Not sendin' you anywhere. Never again. I know what you did, Marie, and I know why. I wanted to cry when I first figured it out.. but the tears wouldn't come. Not with knowing this is what you wanted, and that you'd pay any price... for us. I wish you had let me in, told me.." Then a hint of his smile." I know, I would have fought you on it. I know you needed to do this on your own, because you're stubborn, and hard headed, and...mine."

He kissed me again, dragging me along with him to the couch. Coat was shed in the process, before I was sitting across his lap, his hand on my hip, his other hand cupping the back of my head, while he brushed kisses over my face. Nibbled at the curve of my lower lip, kissed the tip of my nose, making me sigh and squirm. So much more patience than anyone would have credited him with.

"I can't promise it'll be perfect, Marie. Or that we won't fuck up along the way. But you've pretty much given up being able to have forever to touch me, and I'm not goin' to forget that. We might break this before we get it right, but I want it. I always did, my ring on your hand, and you in my life. Promise me, no more runnin'. " Quite the speech from Logan, who usually let his wide array of expressive grunts and brow arches do the talking for him.

"Ya are forever ta me, Logan. If all Ah had was one night, this night, here with you, able to touch ya....Forever can go hang. Ah wanna live, not just exsist. Ya taught me that. " Hands sliding along those muttonchops. " Ah want ya ta know me, all of me. That's all that ever mattered ta me. Ah'm here with ya now, Logan, and Ah don't want that ta change. Ah don't know if they'll understand." He knew who I meant. " But now Ah'll know ya know who Ah am. "

His lips on mine was the answer to that, his hand sliding under my sweater, his large, rough hand against the skin of my back, tracing my spine..Whatever price I had paid to get there, even if it was just this one night.. though I knew he had plans for a lot more than one, it was worth it ten times over.

Because now he'd know it was for me, and I would know it was for him, and it would be all for us.



Goo Goo Dolls Lyrics
Iris Lyrics

And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cuz sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive

And I don't want the world to see me
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And I don't want the world to see me
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And I don't want the world to see me
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am

I Grieve
SacredMacha
Notmysight at aol.com
Rating:
Summary : It was all so different then.
Genre- angst.
Category post X3/AU
Archive : sure!
Disclaimer - I own none of it.
Notes : You have been warned. I am not little miss sunshine. Heck, I can't even control what happens, sometimes.


I don't know if I can take it anymore. It was only an hour ago, and everything was different then. Nothing yet has really sunk in, looks like it always did. Neatly made bed, the way Marie insisted she had to do it every morning. Her hair brush on the vanity, still glinting with hints of ivory among the strands of brunette that clung to the bristles. The candles sitting in their holders, waiting for the flame to set them alight. I struck a match, watching one hint of golden light multiply as I touched it to wick after wick. Burned my fingers lighting the last one, but I didn't care. The sandalwood scent of the candles started to eddy in the air of the room, as if whispers of a dream.

My hands seemed to large, clumsy, as I ran fingertips over her hairbrush, her compact with her powder, the jewel bright perfume bottles she collected, though she didn't wear perfume. Because of me, she'd never bothered unless it was a special occasion. She'd always kept me in mind, with all the little things, besides the big ones. What scents she bathed with, the lotion she spread over her skin in the morning, fresh out of the shower, heat of her skin intensifying the smell for moments while it sank in, keeping her skin smooth and begging to be touched.She told me once she would have given up forever to touch me. I knew now that she had.

A jerk of my arm, sending those empty, pretty bottles to the floor with a crash of broken glass.Knees buckled, and I hit my elbows on the top of her vanity, as my body started to shake silently. No tears, no sounds, just shaking and clinging to that vanity top. My eyes fell on a mahogany box, drawing it to me, falling the rest of the way to the floor in a heap. Fingers stroked over the box like a prized possesion, before I lifted the brass hasp and opened it. Scent of Marie, mix
ed with just a hint of me, rising up out of the box like a djinn from an old rubbed bottle.

Fingers dipped into the velvet lined box, rubbing along the bottle green nap to just have the sensation against my fingertips. The contents of the box were a jumble, and I picked and chose among it, one piece, one memory at a time,

First were the pieces of paper, kept flat in the bottom, tugged up with the clinking of other things that had been resting atop. Unfolding them, letting my hands caress the edges, taking in the words. Paper, for the first anniversary. She'd given me a deed to a little plot of land up north with a cabin on it, and I'd laughed, handing her a similar piece of paper, for the plot by the lake, where we lived, that house, the house I had first touched her in, loved her in. This house, that now seemed to sigh with emptiness. A sound in my throat, as the papers were put aside.

Fingers stirred in the box again, feeling the different shapes. Soft cotton was next, a tiny little washcloth I'd given her for the second anniversary. By then I'd decided I'd follow the old traditions, and give her traditional gifts. Though maybe giving her the washcloth under the edict she let me use it on her, and give her a bath and wash every inch of her with it had been less traditional. But she had loved it, me doting on her, the stroke of the soft cloth over her skin, her dark whiskey eyes burning with love and desire long before I was near to finished with all I had in mind. I pressed the square of fabric to my face, taking in the scent of her it still carried, like a junkie taking a hit they know may be their last. Then it was tossed to the top of the papers, starting a little pile of memories I was sorting through.

Next was easy to pick out, the feel of soft, baby smooth leather gloves. Cool, warming to my hand even as I tugged them up out of the little chest. By our third year, Marie's mutation had come back. She had pretended it was all right, trying to hide her tears. She'd taken the cure, and it had failed her...but enough time had shown her I didn't care. I loved her, held her close. My stubborn girl, arguing when I touched her, kissed her. Until her mutation stopped reacting to me at all, and when she cried then, it was because she didn't have to be afraid to touch me anymore. Rubbing those gloves along my face, imprint of vanilla lotion on good leather, before they were set aside.

Rustling sounds as I chose the next fragment of memory, dried lavender rose, still clinging to a hint of color. I remembered hunting for a dozen of them for our fourth anniversary. She'd mentioned once she thought they were terribly pretty, not pink, not red, just that light purple hue. Seeing her smile, eyes brightening, had made the eight florists I'd had to talk to worth it. Whisper of a scent clung to it, faded like its color, as I set it aside.

Fingers ran along the edge of the wooden case, deep enough to hold the things Marie treasured. Our things that she stored inside it, starting the fifth year, when I had given it to her, making it myself, carving the wood, some of it by claw. Polished until the gleamed in subtle shades of red, bronze, and warm browns in the light, the tiny brass hasp fitted on so she could lock it if she chose. I shut my eyes, remembering how often she opened this, just to look inside.

Year six had been candy, and all that was left to be put in the box was one lone, silver foil wrapped kiss. I'd gotten her a mountain of chocolate covered cherries, boxes of chocolate truffles, chocolate dipped fruit.. and the kisses. Spelling her name for her on our bed in them, red and silver ones. She'd made such a fuss over that, and I had been thankful I had paid attention to a couple of those sappy romantic movies she liked so much, at least enough to get the idea. Spending that weekend in bed, overindulging in enough chocolate to make our nerves jangle, her hairtickling over my chest, her chin on my shoulders as she cajoled me into eating another chocolate cherry.

The seventh year had been a doozy. She'd insisted on going away for vacation, teasing me she didn't want any other women around, in case the seven year itch struck. Woman could be so silly at times, like anyone would ever have me as wrapped up in them as she did. I was worried, leaving a week before our anniversary, without that traditonal gift of copper. I just hadn't had time to think of anything. Sadly, it was a rest stop along the highway on the way to Virginia Beach that had saved me. A penny flattened out but for the raised shape of two hearts. A little good luck piece, she'd said, kissing me long enough people stopped to stare. Not that I gave a damn. Any time Marie wanted to kiss me was fine by me.

Jubilee, or Ju Ju bee, as I never seemed to stop calling her, had helped me with year eight. Bronze worked into a celtic knot, a pin to go through it, that held her hair back from her face. She'd all but fallen in love with it, which earned the little yellow jacket a hefty bribe out of me. I turned it over and over in my fingers, the cold metal that had never looked cold against Marie's hair, bronze bringng out the shades of red and gold in the strands there. Carefully setting it atop the pile, a clink as it hit the flattened penny.

Our ninth anniversary had been hard. Marie had been sick with a cold that just wouldn't quit, and since her skin no longer took to my mutation, I couldn't help her out of it. Instead, I had gotten a Japanese tea set, sharing that age old ceremony with her. She'd protested when I put my mouth where hers had been, forgetting for a moment, or maybe just fretting over me that she did, that I wouldn't catch her cold. Spinning that little cup on my finger, the taste of the tea seeming to linger ghost like on the back of my tongue

.Putting the little piece of pottery aside, to take up the symbol of year ten. What did you get a helluva woman made out of tin, for heaven's sake? Until I'd settled on getting her a pair of her own dog tags, not too unlike the ones I'd thrown away at Alkali Lake, knowing she and the X-geeks were more to me than even my old life. One embossed with her name, and another with mine. She'd worn them for weeks straight, before they were slid int othe box with the other things she called her yearly treasures.


Hand slid into my ppocket, tugging out the three quarter circle of steel, engraved with the date of our wedding, and the word forever. She'd given it up, and now I'd never get to give her her anniversary present to mark our eleventh year as man and wife, that unit everyone around the mansion called Logan and Rogue. I put it with the others, before I placed each piece of our life's memories back into the box. So stupid, all of it seemed so trivial, but it never had been to, not to Marie, not to me. Knowing that these little gifts were the things that moved her more than anything extravgant could have.. it mattered.

She'd been so excited, making plans for us to have an anniversary dinner, glowing and bubbly and just radiating her happiness. I had known, of course, long before, but she obviously was planning on waiting to tell me. To give me my anniversary gift, tell me we were finally, after years, going to be three and not just two. I'd been prepared to argue her out of working on the team after she told me, and warn her I was likely to coddle her, badass reputation be damned.

Then it had happened, three days before our circled day. I had sensed it even as she got out of bed, before she started panicking, crying at the sight of blood. I'd carried her down the driveway, trying to tell her it didn't mean anything, it could be a dozen little things, that she and the baby would be fine.

I'd made myself a liar. Even when it was obvious we were going to lose the baby, I talked as if everything was all right. We would have another baby, everything would be all right. Never had I wished more for her skin to flare again, to take my mutation in, even if I gave up touching her, skin on skin, the rest of our lives.

But it didn't happen. Even after Jeannie had sighed, giving up and taking off those protective gloves, I held her hand. Held her hand and hoped, prayed for her mutation to once more do something unexpected. When the feel of her flesh got cool, almost waxy, I let go.

I made my way up the stairs, back to our tiny home blindly. Her scent luring me as surely as a siren's song... to my doom. This was my prison now, as much as it had once been my palace. Here I'd had everything. Home, family, memories, and Marie. Now it could all fall to ashes and I likely wouldn't care.

I believed we'd have it all, forever. Did I believe the dream, or did I dream to believe?

Box closed, and I curled around it, those fragments of my life with Marie, feeling the carved wood under my cheek as I rested my head against it. Praying vainly, for one last whisper of her touch, one last drawl of my name in those honey tones.. just one last dream.


That was how Scott and Jean found me the next morning. Curled up around a box full of momentos from a life worth living. I was getting cold even as they tried to wake me. I'd found that even the Wolverine could die... from a grieving heart. I want to think Jeannie heard me say goodbye, before I went on. I had found my release, my relief. Now I was free to be with Marie, and she and I could both move on..to whatever adventure was next.

I Grieve
By : Peter Gabriel.
It was only one hour ago
It was all so different then
nothing yet has really sunk in
looks like it always did
this flesh and bone
it's just the way that we are tied in
but there's noone home
i grieve...
for you
you leave...
me
so hard to move on
still loving what's gone
said life carries on...
carries on and on and on...
and on
the news that truely shocks
is the empty, empty page
while the final rattle rocks
its empty, empty cage...
and i can't handle this
i grieve...
for you
you leave...
me
let it out and move on
missing what's gone
said life carries on...
i said life carries on and on...
and on
life carries on in the people i meet
in every one that's out on the street
in all the dogs and cats
in the flies and rats
in the rot and the rust
in the ashes and the dust
life carries on and on and on...
and on
life carries on and on and on...
life carries on and on and on...
and on
life carries on and on and on...
just the car that we ride in
the home we reside in
the face that we hide in
the way we are tied in
as life carries on and on and on...
and on
life carries on and on and on...
did i dream this belief
or did i believe this dream
how i will find relief
i grieve...