Marie was curled up in my arms under the heavy covers of the hotel bed while we were watching an old black-and-white movie on TV to provide some background noise.
We hadn't broken physical contact for longer than a few seconds ever since I had found her on the train. It was strange, because neither of us could be certain what this new connection between us meant, but what we both did know was that we needed it.
From the moment we had met, there had been some kind of mental connection that I had done my best to deny. But our bond was stronger than my stubbornness and it had soon gotten the better of me, making me check on her and ask the others how she was, where she was...it had become difficult to concentrate on anything but her; even on myself.
After the initial shock of having stabbed Marie and the following coma and pain had subsided, I realized that she must be feeling the same thing. We hadn't known each other for a very long time and she just walked right into my bedroom in the middle of the night because she had apparently noticed that I was having a nightmare.
And whatever new level it was that I had taken things to when I had kissed her on the train seemed to include us being glued to one another, our bodies melting into one and our hearts reaching out to each other to establish a synchronized rhythm.
“Logan...” she drawled sleepily, lifting her head to look at me.
“I know I'm probably repeating myself, but...that was a really nice thing you did. To come looking for me and all.”
I stroked her hair and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. She shifted positions in my arms and I spotted a small smile on her face.
“That was nice, too.”
Her eyes asked a silent question and she shyly caressed my cheek with her thumb, the smooth satin of her glove softly running over my skin.
I knew that this was the moment to tell her that I had made a mistake when I had kissed her on the train; the perfect opportunity to burst the bubble that we had both resorted to living in. I also knew that as beautiful as this thing between us might seem to her, she was supposed to find herself a nice boy her age who was a little more mentally stable than me.
But when she hesitantly raised her chin, bringing her face closer to mine and her lips parted just the slightest bit, I realized that I would never tell her any of that.
By the time my lips made contact with hers, cautiously brushing against them and pulling away again before the tickling sensation her mutation caused turned into an unpleasant pull, I knew that it didn't matter whether we lived inside a big bubble.
Or whether this thing between us was unsustainable in the real world and couldn't be justified to the Professor and the rest of the goody-goodies at the Mansion.
They might have the best intentions for her, but ultimately it was still up to Marie to decide where she went and what she wanted.
She held my face in both hands while we locked eyes and it felt more intimate than even a kiss, because I knew it didn't just feel like she was looking right into my soul; she really was.
My every thought and feeling was hers as well. She knew me, all of me, and she was still here. That meant the world to me.
As I slowly ran my hands up and down her back, I could feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her nightgown. With a little concentration, I could not only hear her heartbeat but also feel its soft vibrations in my fingertips.
Our lips were separated by only a small space of air, our bodies and minds caught in a floating state between dream and reality. Her sweet scent clouded my senses more and more with every breath I took and soon, details like place and time lost significance.
There was only her.
The sight of Marie's serene smile was the most beautiful thing anyone could wake up to in the morning. I had no idea what I had done to deserve that, but when I opened my eyes, she was there. Holding my hand, lying on top of the covers, watching over me.
“Hi,” she whispered.
It took a moment for me to process the information that her fully-dressed state, freshly-showered smell and the sunlight outside the window offered.
“I slept all through the night?” I murmured more to myself than to Marie, but she nodded her head in response.
“And no nightmares...”
“That's really good, isn't it?” she asked eagerly.
“It's really rare,” I replied in wonder, lifting our entangled hands to my face to place a kiss on her gloved fingers.
“Logan, last night...” she trailed off, her eyes wide in amazement.
“I know. It was...”
She giggled because I struggled to find the words to say all the things I wanted to say.
It had felt like we had reacher some sort of deeper level of consciousness just by concentrating on each other. The intensity of it must have eventually made us both fall asleep.
“You felt it too, didn't you? Right from the beginning.”
I nodded and sat up in bed, briefly letting go of her hand to get up and collect one of the white hotel towels and some other supplies for a shower from the bedside table.
“It's...strange,” I picked up our conversation again. “In an entirely good way.”
A foreign feeling of emptiness began to settle into my stomach and it took me a moment to realize that I was missing Marie – even though she was sitting on the bed, two feet from where I was standing.
The sudden uncomfortable expression on her face revealed to me that she experienced the same. We gave each other a quick look of confusion before I pulled her up into my arms, dumping my towel and shampoo onto the floor, and she pressed her face into my chest with a content sigh.
“Better,” I muttered into her hair, inhaling the lingering presence of her vanilla shampoo.
She raised her head and stood on her toes to press a hurried kiss to my cheek, quickly pulling away and putting a sufficient distance between her bare skin and mine again.
Biting her lip, she turned her eyes down and seemingly studied the carpet. It didn't take a telepath to identify the intense feeling of frustration that rolled off her in waves.
“Marie,” I whispered and gently cupped her chin, lifting it to make her look at me. The agonizing pull of her mutation started to take its effect, but I was nowhere near letting go.
“It's okay, you don't have to...”
“Yes I do,” I choked out before bringing my lips to hers and concentrating as hard as I could to ignore the pain it caused me and focus on the tenderness of her tongue as she caressed my lower lip.
I was already seeing stars and feeling my legs go limp by the time I regretfully let go of her, quickly reaching out to the wall to support myself.
My blood had turned into a violent fire that shot through my body and I had trouble hiding my misery from Marie, who was instantly by my side, whispering countless apologies into my ear and rubbing soothing circles on my back and shoulders.
I didn't move for about five minutes, that seemed like several days to me, until the pain had subsided and was replaced with all-consuming exhaustion.
“We shouldn't have done that,” Marie whispered, her voice thick with worry. “We have to be more careful.”
“No,” I replied tonelessly, clearing my throat to make my voice return.
“No, we don't. Don't ever hold back with me, okay? You have to be careful all the time, you should be able to feel free when it's just us. I'll heal, I always do.”
I wasn't sure whether I had said something wrong or exactly the right thing when a single tear silently made its way down her cheek.
“I'll never be free, Logan. Never.”
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