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At daybreak I hear him pack and say goodbye
I can hear him slam the door and walk away
Right next door I hear that woman start to cry
I should go to her but what would I say
It's because of me
It's because of me
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She had gotten back to the mansion yesterday. He lay on his bed, thinking it over. Yesterday. Nothing had delayed her, he knew very well that Jubilee had taken the train up to help her pack her stuff for the summer. They were driving back from her college together, and Jubes’s voice had been shrill in the hallways from the moment of their arrival yesterday evening. But Marie...
Twenty-four damn hours she had been back and she hadn’t come to see him. Usually she left her bags lying carelessly in the entryway and raced up to his room first thing, bubbling over with all she wanted to tell him. And he was always there, pretending it was a coincidence and he hadn’t been waiting for her.
He clenched his fists over his head, staring at the ceiling. Jubilee had told her. Of course Jubilee had told her, Jubilee and gossip went together like rice and beans. He had known she would. He had braced himself for Marie to come storming up to his room, ready to lecture him. Ready to yell and scream, and tell him just how ashamed of himself he should be. And instead...
He couldn’t stand it any longer. He shoved to his feet with a growl, pulling on his boots. Just a few paces outside his door and he caught her scent. Faint, but he’d know it anywhere. He could track Marie through a hurricane if he had to, a busy mansion full of kids was nothing.
He followed the scent through the mansion hallways, lingering for a moment in front of her room and then chasing her scent further, where it was fresher. Out one of the many side doors and into the darkening night. Across the back lawn and into the treeline.
Finally, there she was, sitting on top of a picnic table in the dusk. Her legs trailed over the edge, swinging slightly in a way that made her look very young, in direct contrast to the way a longneck bottle beer dangled carelessly between two fingers.
They both knew that he could move soundlessly through the forest if he wanted to. The crunching noises he made as he approached were for her benefit, but she didn’t even look in his direction. She kept her face half turned away from him, watching a few lightning bugs swooping and glowing among the trees.
He sat down next to her, the weight of his metal-laced body making the table creak. Neither of them spoke for long minutes as the night settled in around them.
“So, it’s gonna be the silent treatment then?” he finally grunted.
She sighed, taking a long drink of the beer. Even with his keen night vision, her face was unreadable in the shadows. “Is that what you were hopin’?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
She continued to watch the fireflies, the locks of her platinum hair almost luminous in the fading light. “That I’d be all huffy an’ mad, an’ then you could take your time turnin’ me up sweet, an’ feel like it’s all back to normal again?”
“You sayin’ you ain’t ignorin’ me, or that you ain’t mad at me? ‘Cause I ain’t buyin’ either one.”
“Jesus, Logan.” Her voice was soft. “I’m not tryin’ to punish you. I jus’ don’t know what the hell to say to you.”
He gripped the edge of the picnic table, feeling the rough wood bite into his palms. “I woulda thought you’d have plenty to say.”
She laughed, low and bitter. He didn’t like that sound coming from her, it was all wrong.
“So, you want me to yell atcha? Tell you ya shouldn’ta done it? Would that make you feel any better, to have someone else hatin’ you as much as you seem to hate yourself?”
He let the anger rise, welcoming it. “Don’t act like you know...”
Her face finally turned to his, stopping his words abruptly. Her eyes looked older than he had ever seen, older even than his. “Don’t know what, Logan? Don’t know you? Sugar, you always wondered how much of you I got in my head, an’ I never really told you. Because I knew you wouldn’t like it. But now I jus’ don’t give a damn.”
She boosted herself off the table, turning to stand right in front of him. “You wanna know how much of you I have up here?” Her voice was low, furious. “All of you. Every. Last. Bit. The way it felt when they put the metal in you, ev’ry bone in your body on fire, fear an’ rage so thick in your throat you couldn’t even scream. Bein’ out in the woods, not knowin’ who you were, blood drippin’ from your hands an’ makin’ the snow turn pink. The fuckin’ rush you get when you’re crackin’ bones in that cage, when the animal in you comes roarin’ to the surface. How damn good it feels when you’re sinkin’ your body into a woman, and how often you imagined that woman was Jean...”
“Stop it! Just...stop it!” He shook her roughly, and then dropped his hands from her shoulders in dismay. He hadn’t even realized he had grabbed her.
He wrapped his hands around the edge of the table again, trying to stop them from shaking, feeling the wood splinter under his grip. His gut churned with shock and horror. All this time and he had never known. Sure, he knew how her mutation worked, that she picked up characteristics of those she touched. Had even thought it was cute, the way she growled like him from time to time, liked the beers he liked and the smell of his cigars...
She was still standing before him, unmoved by his fit of rage. Just like her to stick around when she should have been running far and fast, he wildly thought. He scrubbed a shaky hand over his face, unable to look at her, his mind still reeling.
All his memories -- his thoughts and feelings. Every sick and twisted fucking thing that he was, in her innocent head, for all these years. He should have known, probably had known on some level, and had pushed the knowledge away. He had been too horrified by the idea to believe it was true, to even consider it. He had allowed himself to pretend, just like she had pretended, all this time...
He could barely speak, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Marie. How did...how could I not have known...?”
She sat back beside him on the table, snagging her beer again. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Logan. You didn’t know ‘cause I never wanted you to know.”
She sighed, a gloved hand running through her hair in frustration. “The last thing you needed was one more fuckin’ cross to bear. Knowin’ you had given l’il sixteen-year-old Marie your taste for Molson and cigars was cute. Knowin’ you had given her your nightmares of the lab, an’ your erotic fantasies of Jean...”
She trailed off, taking another deep draught of the beer, her voice softer now, rueful. “You saved my life, Logan. You didn’t need one more thing to beat yourself over the head with. I didn’t want you to know then an’ I shouldn’ta told you now.”
“You should have...you shoulda told me...”
He could just make out the cynical quirk of her brow in the dim light, an eerie mirror of one of his own favorite expressions. How had he not noticed that before?
“Knock it off, Logan, if you had wanted to know -- had really wanted to know -- you woulda just asked me straight. There’s nothing I woulda denied you.” She cleared her throat self-consciously. “Back then.”
He still felt like he had been gut-shot. “All this time...knowin’ those things about me...how can...”
He didn’t even know what he was asking but she did, raising her bottle in a mocking toast. “An’ there it is, in a nutshell. How can I know what you are...who you are...an’ still be...your friend? Wanna be around you? Jesus, Logan, the you in my head -- I know he woulda thought that. But he was from four years ago, you haven’t learned anythin’ since then?”
He was suddenly angry again. This intimate knowledge she had of him -- he was still trying to wrap his head around it and she wielded it so...casually. Now that the shock was fading, the shame and fear of what she knew was overtaking him, fueling his rage.
“So you know me so goddamn well...why did I do it?” he snapped.
She ignored his angry tone, appearing to consider the question carefully. “I wish I knew. Maybe this became too much for you...a safe place, all this friendship and respect. Maybe you just had to sabotage yourself, show yourself that you didn’t deserve it all. Or maybe it was as simple as seein’ two people in love, and tryin’ to convince yourself that that didn’t mean anythin’. That it didn’t really exist, but it did, lust is one thing but they were in love, Logan...”
She suddenly sounded so young again, so earnest, and his blood roared hot and thick in his ears. He heard the cruelty in his own voice as he lashed out at her, making her flinch. “What the fuck would you know about love? Or even lust?”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he desperately wished them back, his gut twisting, regret bitter in his throat.
She just gazed at him for a long moment and then hopped off the table, her back straight and proud as she walked away from him, and suddenly he knew. If he didn’t make this right this would be the last time he would ever see her, the last words he would ever speak to her.
“Marie, wait...” He had caught up to her but she walked steadily forward, only her scent giving away the depth of her hurt and sorrow.
“Christ, Marie...just...stop a minute.” He grabbed her arm, and she yanked it away. He saw it coming but let it happen as she hauled off and hit him hard across the face.
“Fuck you, Logan! You fuckin’ cold-hearted bastard!” She was trembling with rage, her eyes spitting fire. “Just because I can’t touch everyone thinks I can’t feel, but I do, I feel it, maybe even more than everyone else, and you don’t feel the same way but don’t think that gives you the right to fuckin’ pretend like it’s nothin’, like it’s not true...”
His eyes widened. She couldn’t mean...?
The thought of it, one more shock, finally broke him. He felt something fracture inside him, and suddenly he was on his knees before her, his face pressed desperately to her belly, his arms wrapped around her waist, words spilling from his mouth in a barely comprehensible rush.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it. I fucked up, I know it, I fucked up so bad...”
He nuzzled into her, breathing in her scent, memorizing it in case it was the last time, knowing he was falling apart in front of her but unable to stop it. His whole body was shaking, his arms gripping her so tightly he didn’t think he could let go if he wanted to, the words ground out helplessly through his clenched teeth. “I don’t know why I did it, and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I don’t know what to do, just tell me what to do, Marie, just tell me what to do...”
The words ran out and he knelt before her, panting, the pressure in his chest unbearable. She was going to pry free from him and leave him, he was losing her and he never even knew he had her, he was losing everything that ever meant a damn to him...
He could hardly believe it when he felt it, the brush of her gloved hand through his hair, gently, soothingly. A choking noise escaped him and her hand wound in his hair tighter, holding him against her, her other hand now stroking tenderly over his neck, his shoulders.
Her voice was soft again, thick with tears. “Settle down, sugar. It’s gonna be okay.”
Still unable to speak, he shook his head against her in denial. It was never going to be okay, not with how badly he had fucked things up this time.
“C’mon now, sugar, stand up.” A note of steel entered her voice. “You stand up an’ face this, Logan.”
He somehow found the strength to push himself to his feet, still holding her, until his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her head against his chest.
He slowly felt some of the pressure in his chest ease, the frantic thumping of his heart lessening a bit. Until he felt her slowly, tentatively, put her arms around his waist, returning his desperate embrace, and then his heart started thumping wildly again.
“I think I broke my hand on your damn hard head,” she finally mumbled, her breath hot against his shirt.
Then she was laughing, and against all odds he found himself laughing softly with her.
“I can believe it, that was a helluva belt you gave me.” He reached down, holding her gloved hand gently in his. Slowly, so slowly that she could pull away from him at any time, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it.
“I’m sorry, Marie.” Her eyes were dark and deep, and he forced himself to meet them, hoping she could read in his own eyes everything that he meant. “I’m so sorry.”
She nodded, and then her arms tightened against him, her head finding its way back against his chest, as naturally as breathing. For a moment he let his mind go blank, feeling only how right it seemed to have her there, in his arms.
“I wish I could give you some easy answer, Logan,” she murmured. “Tell you that there’s somethin’ you could do to make it all right again, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that way. Some things that get broken can’t ever be fixed. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. You still hafta try.”
He sighed, knowing what an ass he was going to sound like when he spoke the words, but needing to tell her the truth just the same. “I’ve always run from my screw-ups. Never even tried to stick around, to pick up the pieces. I don’t even know how.”
She nodded against his chest, unsurprised. “I know. But this time will be diff’rent, sugar. An’ I’ll help you.”
His throat choked up with emotion again, and he couldn’t stop the question from breaking free. “Why? You were right about one thing, Marie, I don’t deserve this. Any of it.”
She pulled back a little, her gloved hands coming up to hold his face between them. Her voice was steely again, her eyes steady on his. “Which part of you doesn’t deserve it, Logan? The part that betrayed ev’rybody you care about by fuckin’ Jean, or the part that was so loyal you risked your life to save mine when you hardly even knew me? The part that beats the hell outta people in that cage, or the part that uses those skills to teach these kids how to defend themselves? The part that stopped your car for a freezin’ runaway, or the part that can gut a man without a second of hesitation?”
She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. “I know you, Logan. That’s why I never told you what I got from you when you touched me. Because nobody wants to be known like that, all their secrets an’ fantasies an’ fears. An’ I’m sorry I took that from you, an’ I don’t mean to throw it back in your face. But I need you to know that I’m not full of shit when I say that I know you, everythin’ that you are, and you do deserve this. You deserve good things, and you deserve love. I don’t know how to get you to believe it, but it’s true.”
She faltered, apparently embarrassed by her vehemence. She dropped her eyes from his, her hands falling away from his face. He was still struggling to find words a moment later when she twined her hand back in his, pulling him to walk with her back toward the mansion.
She shrugged and peeked back up at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes now. “An' you also deserve every bit of humiliation you’re gonna get when you finally find Scott and beg him to get his ass back here where it belongs.”
He stopped in his tracks, hoping against all hope that she was kidding. “Aw, hell. C’mon, darlin’...really?”
Her voice was firm. “Yeah, sugar. Really.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ha, of course the Rogan chapter would be five times the length of the other chapters. :-D Oh well. Enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
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