She wasn’t sure what to think. Her sense of identity felt all twisted up. The statements “I’m Rogue” and “I’m Marie” both felt true. Still, perhaps “I’m Marie” fit a little better. She didn’t have all of Rogue’s memories. Some of them were pushed deep into her subconscious, while others sort of swam at the edge of her awareness, along with many instincts and urges she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Marie shook her head, trying to get rid of the fuzzy, muddled feeling. She was too scatterbrained to go back to her inner world and sort it all out right now. So she just brushed past Logan and stood up, stretching, reacquainting herself with the body she had neglected for too long. She craved . . . movement. To burn off some energy, to push herself until she felt a rush of endorphins, a release. It was a yearning she had felt vicariously through Rogue many times, but it was now her own.
She remembered that the resort had an exercise facility, and nearly asked Logan to take her there before she snapped her mouth shut, realizing just how stupid she was being. There were definitely more important things to take care of right now. She spun to face him, only to find that he had stood up while her back was turned.
“Oh,” she whispered, gazing up at his handsome, angular face, that intense stare focused on her, and her scattered thoughts all seemed to condense to a fine point. She was suddenly very self-aware. A sense of dread trickled over her.
She had a new perspective on every memory of the past two weeks.
She had behaved like . . . an animal. This man had seen her naked. She had practically thrown herself at him. Repeatedly. He had dragged her out of his bed in the middle of the night, pushed her away when she latched onto him like a lamprey, politely told her to, ‘Get dressed, please.’
She had ignored Charles, attacked Scott, and thrown a fit when housekeeping changed her sheets. She had rubbed Logan’s scent on her, mussed up his sheets every time he tried to make his bed. And then there was that time . . . in the bathtub. Her stomach dropped. She had m-m-masterb—touched herself in front of him.
“Oh. My. Gawd.” Her voice felt squeaky. What the fuck was she thinking? Was she out of her mind?
Well, yeah. She was. So there you go.
Logan tilted his head at her again. He ran a finger over her cheek, a question in his eyes. He was no doubt wondering about the fierce blush she could feel flaming over her entire face.
She whimpered involuntarily, then clapped a hand over her mouth. What am I, a puppy? Oh god oh god oh god. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? “I—I am s-s-so sorry,” she stuttered over her words. Tears pricked her eyes. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.” She turned away, but he caught her arm.
“Hey,” he said, trying to make her face him, but she refused. “You got nothin’ to be sorry for. What’s goin’ on here? I think I understood you better when you couldn’t talk.”
Marie could still smell her own arousal from earlier. That meant he could smell it too, she realized, wishing once again for the earth to open up and swallow her. She dislodged herself from his grip, wondering for a moment if she ought to just fly away and never come back.
But of course she couldn’t do that. She had the kids to think about, and Charles and the team. They were her life. She had to get back to them, and that meant she had to face what had happened here with Logan. Someday, she’d look back on this and laugh.
Yeah. Right.
Marie turned around, forcing herself to meet his eyes. She swallowed thickly, blurting out, “I just realized . . . the way I’ve been actin’, especially towards you, these past couple weeks. I could die of shame just thinkin’ about it. I don’t know what come over me. I’m sorry. What else can I say? Just . . . just sorry.”
There. That was only the most embarrassing moment of her life. No big deal.
He looked inexplicably angry. His eyes flashed as golden as she’d ever seen them, and his claws even slipped out a few inches before he managed to pull them back in. His voice was rough. “You’re sayin’ . . . what, you don’t feel that way anymore? It was all a mistake?”
A mistake? Was that what she was saying? Her stomach flip-flopped, and she bit back the whimper that tried to rise up. She replied weakly, “I uh, I mean, yeah? A m-mistake. Don’t you think so?”
He growled, leaning into her, scenting the air conspicuously. “I wanna know what you think.”
She shrank under his gaze. She wanted to lie, but that would only make things worse. She settled for dodging the truth. “I don’t know what I think, okay? I’m . . . sorry I led you on. I dunno how you got saddled with takin’ care of me, but I’m sorry if I made you feel some kinda obligation to me. I never woulda acted all—all clingy like that if I’d been in my right mind.” She laughed, a little hysterically. “My right mind. Whatever that is. I’m such a mess. Sorry.”
“You say ‘sorry’ to me one more time, and I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” If there was any sarcasm in that statement, she sure as hell couldn’t hear it.
She wrung her hands, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “O-okay. Then how ‘bout I say thanks instead?” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes anymore, but she forced the words out, addressing his boots. “I mean it, Logan. Thank you so much, for everything. You been so—so understandin’, an’ good to me even when I acted like . . . like a . . . Well, I don’t even wanna think about what I acted like.” The words ‘cheap whore’ came to her mind again. “Somehow, you just made it all seem okay.” Her voice felt small. “Almost like I didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”
“You didn’t,” he said forcefully. His hands found her shoulders, and he gripped them for a brief moment before letting go, holding his arms tight against his sides. “You were just doin’ what felt right to you, followin’ your instincts.” He paused for a long time, shifting his weight between his feet. “Listen, I never told anybody this, but I went through the same kind of thing, after . . .” he broke off. “Anyway, it’s not your fault. You just tell me who hurt you, Rogue, and I’m gonna—“
Her eyes flew up. “No! Don’t bring that up.” The repressed memories pushed against her awareness, and she cradled her head at the splitting headache that flared up. She gritted her teeth, holding the memories at bay. “Whew boy, feels like a marchin’ band poundin’ through my skull. We gotta get back to the school, sugar. Charles an’ Jean worked so hard to help me get this mind in order. They’re gonna fly off the handle when they find out what I done to it.”
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Logan stood in the kitchen, gripping the counter with a force that left imprints on the formica. Chuck was definitely not getting his deposit back on this place.
After Marie filled him in on the details of what happened, Logan suggested she should call Xavier and bring him up to speed on their new situation. But now Wolverine was getting him back for that little suggestion.
He wanted nothing more than to storm into her bedroom, rip that phone from her hands, and show her in a very primal way that he was the only man she should be in contact with, speaking to, or even thinking about while she was in heat.
Possessive? Him? Nah.
He made the mistake of breathing, and her scent crashed down on him like a ton of bricks. It was all he could do to restrain himself. His fingers tightened on the edge of the counter until it gave way with a crunch. His instincts were kicking into overdrive, and he didn’t give a damn whether Rogue still shared those instincts, whether she still knew what that chain around her neck meant. She was his, feral or not. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, give up his claim on her. His chest rose and fell, his mind growing hazier with every breath.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and adjusted himself in his jeans. Jesus Christ, he could not wait for this time of the month to be over.
“. . . why I think it’s best we get back soon as possible. Yep. Uh huh.” Every word that filtered through her door and into the kitchen left a bitter taste in his mouth. Logan now tried to ignore the voice he had longed to hear for the past two weeks. Fuckin’ irony, right there.
He finally busied himself making sandwiches. They had to eat, after all, and room service was now out of the question. If a guy happened to bring it, he might rip the poor fella’s throat out. And it would be just plain creepy to request that a woman deliver their food. He layered meat and cheese and vegetables onto the thick—homemade?—bread Storm had dropped off on her last visit. Homemade bread. Didn't get much better than that. Yeah. Fuck room service. Who the fuck liked room service, anyway?
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, hoping that if he said the word out loud, it might do something to relieve the tension in his body.
It didn’t.
How was he going to break this to Marie?
Sorry, darlin’, I know you’re eager to get back to the mansion and salvage your sanity and all, but this vicious animal inside me has sorta claimed you as his mate, and he’s drivin’ me a little bit crazy right now. So we’re gonna have to wait a day or two, unless you want me to eviscerate half the team.
Why would I spill Hank’s blue guts all over them nice hardwood floors, you ask?
For the crime of having a penis and standing too close to you.
Yeah, that'd go over real well. Maybe he should ask her to come live in a cave with him and howl at the moon while he was at it.
Finally, he heard the phone click shut, then the sound of her footsteps approaching. He set the food on the table and turned to look at her, bracing himself for another unpleasant rush of instincts. But surprisingly, the tension in his body lightened. He felt the Wolverine retreat, seemingly content now that he could keep an eye on her.
Okay, Logan thought, I can take a hint. Don’t let her out of our sight again. Got it. Ya coulda just told me that, ya stupid brute.
An awkward silence stretched as they stared at each other across the kitchen. Logan felt something twist in his heart. He realized what it was: he missed Rogue, the one he knew, the one who would’ve traipsed across that kitchen floor and made a cute little mock-innocent face at him before trying to feel him up.
Some part of him knew that this was Rogue, right here in front of him, the real Rogue. The woman she was supposed to be. He should be happy for her, right? Happy that she could speak. Happy that she could remember her real home, a mansion in New York with the X-men, not a little cabin in Vermont with him.
She ducked her head, but for once it wasn’t a gesture of submission. She was trying to hide from him. Those deep green eyes traveled across the kitchen under a curtain of lashes, finally settling on the table. She cleared her throat. “Th-that looks great. Thanks for makin’ me one, too.”
“I always make you lunch,” he answered dumbly.
Marie cleared her throat again. “Yeah. Yeah, I s’pose you do.”
Logan moved to her side of the table and pulled out her chair for her. It seemed a stupid, overly formal gesture, but he wanted her to sit down. It made him nervous, her standing in the doorway like some frightened doe about to bolt.
She nibbled at her lower lip for a moment, then seemed to set her resolve. She strode across the kitchen, and he was relieved to see that at least the careful grace he had come to associate with her was still the same. She always moved like someone who really knew their body, who had a heightened awareness and lightning-quick reflexes.
He reckoned growing up with deadly skin would do that to a person.
“Thanks,” she muttered as she sat down, and he pushed in her chair. He went around to the other side of the table, feeling once again the nearly tangible awkwardness as he took a seat across from her.
Their eyes met. The table suddenly seemed very long, the distance between them growing with each passing second. The silence was oppressive. She always used to turn on the radio while they ate.
Finally, Logan picked up his sandwich, taking a bite and chewing mechanically. She followed suit.
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Marie had finished half of her sandwich and didn’t think she could stomach anymore. She hated the way Logan was sitting so stiffly, hated the tense silence between them, hated herself for whatever she had done to make things so awkward. She didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t really think it could be fixed.
A thought struck her, and she felt slightly ill. What if—what if it had always been like this? What if he had been this uncomfortable around her for the entire two weeks, and she just hadn’t noticed before? It was entirely possible. She had been so caught up in her own little world, so oblivious to what was really going on . . .
She snuck another peek at him through her lashes. He looked miserable.
Carol’s words rose up in her thoughts, and whether the words had really come from Carol or her own subconscious was a moot point. They were true.
”Untouchable, undesirable, unloveable . . .”
“Standing in front of him buck naked like some cheap whore . . .”
She heard a pathetic whine ring out in the kitchen. Logan’s eyes darted over her curiously, and she realized with a start that the whine had come from her own throat. She hid her face in her hands. “Sorry,” she said in a muffled voice, peering through her fingers like a skittish child.
The remains of his sandwich dropped to his plate. “Quit fuckin’ apologizing. Christ, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? Is being feral really so awful, that you think ya gotta be sorry for who you are? Think I should be sorry too? Huh?”
Marie flinched at his tone. He sounded on edge, a growl creeping into his voice. She floundered for words, twisting her fingers in her lap. “No, of course not. But you don’t go around whimpering, or attacking your friends, or throwing yourself at—I mean, you have control of it.”
His laugh was bitter and humorless. “Control. Yeah, I have a lot of that. You make me use every bit of it, darlin’.”
Marie felt confusion knit her brow. “What do you mean by that?”
His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you do to me.” He tapped the side of his nose. “We can’t hide that from each other, like other people do.”
Was he saying that he wanted her? That he found her attractive? She felt a tiny flutter of hope, before she stamped it down as girlish stupidity. She had toxic skin. No one found that attractive in a woman. She knew Logan had been aroused by her—there was no hiding that from her heightened senses, but it was only because she offered herself up to him like some tramp.
And even then, he had never actually taken her up on those offers. She couldn’t even tempt the man by crawling into bed with him. Pathetic. She was about as far from attractive as a person could get. She buried her face in her hands again.
He just let out a rough sigh and stood, grabbing their plates and going over to the sink. Marie looked up, but he averted his eyes and turned his back to her. It felt like a dismissal.
She didn’t understand the hurt that welled up in her as she stared at Logan’s cold back. It was ridiculous. She hardly knew him, truth be told. Why should she crave his affection? She was the Rogue. She didn’t want or need anyone. She had always thrived on privacy, solitude. She went through life alone, and that was how she liked it.
She stood, figuring she should go to her room and get packed. The sooner they got back to the mansion, the better. She could go back to the life she knew, forget about this place, about this man.
She had just stepped out of the kitchen when his growl made her turn. His eyes had that golden glint again. “Where do ya think you’re goin’?” he demanded.
Marie was vaguely disturbed by the way her eyes fell, a gesture of submission so deeply ingrained she couldn’t consciously control it. “To my room,” she said softly.
“Not without me,” he growled, following her through the living room and down the hall.
She tried to protest when he stepped into her room after her, sprawled out on her bed as if he owned it, and looked up at her expectantly. But she couldn’t make her mouth form any words. What the hell was he playing at?
“Well?” he finally asked. “What’d we come in here for?”
-----------------------------
Logan knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t help it. He had enough pent up frustration to last a lifetime, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep piling more on without some outlet. Marie was being obstinate and distant and infuriating, and he had always been one to give as good as he got.
He had tried being up front with her, had opened himself up and been as honest as he could be. And how did she repay his effort? By acting shy, playing games like some immature schoolgirl.
She wanted him. He wanted her. There was no point denying it. Why did she have to make things so complicated? Why did she have to go and ruin his fantasy? He had convinced himself that as soon as she could talk, she’d tell him she was crazy about him, give him one of those sweet smiles, and make haste to get between the sheets. Instead she went and said she was sorry. Said she was ashamed. What the fuck was that all about?
He made himself comfortable on her bed, feeling bittersweet satisfaction at how bothered she looked. She had no problem making herself at home in his bed, but she had always been very territorial about hers. Nice to see some things hadn’t changed. He stretched, letting his dirty boots drag over the comforter, daring her to say something.
She just clenched her jaw and shuffled over to her closet, pulling her clothes off the hangers and folding them neatly before dropping them into her suitcase.
She glanced over at him, and he tried once more to provoke her with a smug look, folding his hands behind his head with a lazy sigh. Come on, challenge me. He wanted an excuse to reassert his dominance, to vent his frustration at her.
But she didn’t give him one. She just spoke in a low, even tone, folding up her clothes with practiced movements. “Charles agrees that I should get back to the school. He’ll be able to help me deal with these repressed memories, before they turn into somethin’ dangerous.” She started to ramble. “Thanksgiving’s comin’ up, so most of the students are leavin’ tomorrow. It’ll be a good time to transition back. I figure we can head out today or tomorrow, maybe make it halfway and get a motel. We can be home by Tuesday. Get back to our lives.”
“Riiiight,” he drawled, shoving his anger down before he could leap across the room and throttle her. “We’ll just forget the last two weeks ever happened, huh? Go back to the X-men, teach some brats, go on missions together, pretend like there’s nothin’ between us. God fuckin’ damn, that’s really what you want?”
She froze, clenching a dress in her hands until he heard the seam rip a little. “Yes,” she said tightly. “That’s really what I want.”
Bullshit. That was the first time she’d flat-out lied to him. By the time he was aware of moving, he already had her boxed in against the wall. He pulled the dress from her grasp, ripping it a little more in the process, and tossed it aside. He planted one bulging arm on either side of her head and took a step forward, so close he could feel her heat, hear her pulse quicken. Her scent was already changing for him, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. So responsive. An appreciative rumble came up from his chest. She was so his, even if she refused to admit it.
She just looked off over his shoulder somewhere, a thousand yard stare that would make any drill sergeant proud. Looks were deceiving, but her smell couldn’t lie.
He buried his face in her hair and took a deep draw of her scent, remembering the first time he imprinted her. Maybe he could make her remember it, too. Ah, there it was, that sweet little whimper, a spike in her arousal. She’d gotten the message. He purred, “You wanna play games, baby? That’s just fine. But you better understand somethin’.” He ghosted his lips over her ear, making her shudder. “I play to win.”
Two palms slammed into his ribcage like sledgehammers, and he grunted. The force of the shove knocked him back so hard both his feet left the ground for a second. He stumbled, but managed to stay upright.
He just laughed, drinking in the sight of her, hot and bothered and angry as hell. Suddenly, going back to the mansion didn’t seem so bad. If Rogue wanted to run from him, he was more than ready to chase.
This was gonna be fun.
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Chapter End Notes:
Blaghhh. I edited this chapter to death. I put in scenes, took'em out, changed'em, fiddled with the wording 'til I went cross eyed. Logan and Marie just were not cooperating. Hopefully it turned out okay. The next couple of chapters are already coming much more smoothly, so joy :)