They had been in the cabin for two days. Two days of heavy snow, which now came to half way up the ground floor windows. After the first day of settling in, the second day had been spent in a lazy fashion, Marie curled up on the couch in front of the fire reading, Logan, not doing much more.
The third morning Logan came down from the loft confused, he had heard Marie moving around downstairs and assumed she was starting breakfast. Since settling in she had taken to doing most of the cooking, and a bit of baking. He had insisted she didn't need to only to be told that she felt like she had to pull her weight in some way and that she liked cooking, so unless he was saying her cooking was bad he should just stay out of her way and let her get on with it. So, he had, mostly, because she really was a great cook.
After a half hour, and still no cooking smells were wafting upstairs, he went to see what exactly she was up to. He reached the bottom of the stairs, only to be greeted by an empty kitchen and living room. Right then he heard a clattering and heavy thump from the direction of the bathroom. Sprinting down the short hall he knocked on the half open door as he slowly pushed it wider, only to find Marie passed out on the floor. Gently shifting her, checking for injuries, he noted her flushed skin and elevated temperature. She wasn’t obviously injured so he picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, gingerly setting her down on the bed. She was sweating and running a high fever but appeared to be otherwise fine.
"Marie... Marie can you hear me?" he spoke softly, as she groaned and her eyes moved behind her closed lids. "Come on darlin, open your eyes."
Her eyes gently fluttered open. "What happened?" she croaked, before coughing gently. "Ow," she added, once she finished coughing, bringing a hand to her head. Logan noticed then that she was starting to shiver, despite her fever, so he hurriedly pulled her blankets back over her.
"I was hoping you could tell me kid, I found you taking a nap on the bathroom floor," he said with a gentle smile. "You're not feeling so good I take it?"
"I went to get a glass of water... bathroom was closer than the kitchen, then everything started spinning," she said, snuggling deeper into the blankets, still shivering.
"I'll get you the glass of water," Logan offered softly, smoothing her hair back from her face before jogging back to the kitchen. He got her a glass of warm water, added some honey, and some of the lemon juice that Marie had bought for her baking. By the time he returned to the bedroom she was asleep again. Nudging her gently awake again he helped her sit up a little and held the glass for her to take slow sips. He quickly decided the bedroom was too cold for her and wrapped her snugly in the fur blanket off her bed, before he carried her to the couch in front of the fire. Stoking the fire up, he added more wood until it was blazing strongly again, before he headed back to the kitchen to make her some food; she'd need something to keep her strength up that wasn't too hard on her stomach.
She was just starting to stir an hour later, when he sat down on the coffee table in front of her with a bowl of chicken soup and another drink.
"Something smells good," she murmured, as she rubbed sleepily at her eyes.
"Got you some chicken soup, that's what you're supposed to have when you're sick right?" he said, as he helped her sit up, he propped her up with cushions so she was in a more comfortable position for eating.
"You made chicken soup?" she asked seeming amused by the thought, "Where did you get the chicken from?"
"I had to improvise with the chicken, it's dry stock but I figured that was better than nothing. Here, open up." He held the spoon out to her mouth. After a few mouthfuls Marie announced it was 'not bad'. "Glad you approve, but you got to finish the bowl so come on." She finished most of the bowl before shaking her head weakly and refusing to open her mouth again.
After a brief rest she asked quietly, "So doc, what's the diagnosis, when do I die?"
Logan chuckled. "You've just got the flu kid, you'll live, I would hazard a guess your body’s been fighting it off for a while, with you being too stressed to be sick, now that you've stopped and relaxed it's finally decided it can afford to take a break and let you get over this fully, you should be fine in a few days."
The rest of the day passed slowly, Marie alternated mostly between sleeping, and eating and drinking whatever Logan fed her. She was mortified when Logan had to carry her to the bathroom, even though she knew there was no way she would have been able to get there herself. Even the process of taking care of her business, while Logan waited right outside the door, was enough to leave her a weak trembling mess by the time she was done. Logan kept her on the couch, wrapped in the furs, in front of the loaded fire the whole time.
By the next day she was thoroughly sick of soup but, though Logan allowed her to have something a little more solid with it, she discovered her sore throat wouldn't let her swallow anything else. Her cough started to get worse around midday, which made her headache worse, which made her eyes overly sensitive, so she spent most of her time trying to sleep and hide from daylight.
It wasn't until eleven that night that Logan noticed her fever starting to climb again. He gently unwrapped her a little while she slept to allow some of the excess heat her body was producing to release, he reached for her face once he had done that to wipe a clump of sweaty hair out of the way. As soon as he touched her skin a sharp pain shot from his fingers up his arm, he dropped to his knees beside her trying to catch his breath, his hand falling away from her face as he did so. It only took a minute for him to realise that must have been her mutation, her control must be slipping in her fevered state. Remembering what she had told him the day they had met, about how her mutation had hurt and scared her when she had been unable to control it, he moved over to the coat rack by the door where his gloves were stuffed in the pocket of his jacket.
When he returned, all gloved up, to check on her only minutes later her fever had come down significantly. When it had stayed down for an hour, he finally let himself sleep, propped up against the couch beside her, head resting back against her shoulder where she slept on the couch behind him.
--
Stretching his crick neck out the next morning he turned to check on Marie, her fever was completely gone. The fevered flush of her skin replaced with a healthy glow, her pale lips back to their normal rosy colour, and the hitch in her breathing from coughing was gone. He left her to sleep as he went to make himself a coffee. She didn't stay asleep for long, stretching on the couch before she unwrapped herself with a yawn and sat up.
"How you feeling?" he asked from the kitchen.
"Surprisingly good," she replied. "I think I'll even make it to the bathroom by myself today," she giggled.
"I'll come with you the first time just to make sure," Logan told her, moving around in front of her to help her stand. She took a few staggering steps before her legs decided they did still know how to walk, and she was able to release Logan's supporting hand. When she was back on the couch with the thick blanket tucked back around her, Logan asked, "How's your throat feeling?"
"Great, I can swallow now, looks like I won't drown in my own saliva after all," she replied, "Wait, does that mean I can have real food today!?" she asked, sounding overly excited.
"I was going to suggest something a little more solid," Logan replied, "How about hash?"
"Yes please!" she moaned, "Not that there was anything wrong with your soup," she added hurriedly.
Twenty minutes later Logan walked back to the couch with two full plates. "Scoot over kid," he said, waiting for Marie to move over enough for him to sit down beside her, "You able to handle feeding yourself today?"
"Yep, honestly, I feel good as new, sore throats gone, headache's gone, haven't even had the slightest tickle of a cough, you make a good nurse," she teased, before suddenly becoming serious, "Why are you wearing gloves?"
Logan just smiled at her. "You took a turn in the night and your mutation was on the fritz, gave me a bit of a zap so I put the gloves on as a precaution, don't know if what I got was full force but either way you pack one hell of a punch darlin."
"Hmm, that's weird, I can't hear you up there," Marie said after a while, "How long did we touch for?"
"A few seconds at most," Logan shrugged, "I wonder if that's got anything to do with why you suddenly improved..."
"What do you mean?" Marie asked curiously.
"Well your fever was climbing, right before we touched, and then within a few minutes of you zapping me your fever was back down to what it had been, and then an hour later it had fallen more, and this morning you're fine. Wonder if you did get something from me," he said.
"Like what?" Marie voiced.
"Have you ever touched a mutant before? Maybe you got some of my healing, it would explain why you're better now," Logan proposed.
"... I never have touched another mutant before," Marie finally admitted, "It would make sense..."
They finished the rest of their meal in comfortable silence before Marie stretched again and announced she was going to have a shower.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea just yet darlin," Logan cautioned.
"Logan, I haven't had a shower in three days I'm having one now," he didn't look convinced. "I'll leave the door unlocked and call if I need help, how's that?" she conceded.
"Alright, alright, but if you pass out again, I'm going to say I told you so," Logan muttered, taking their dishes back to the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later he was sitting restlessly on the couch listening to the sounds down the hall. He had heard Marie finish in the shower, scented her shampoo on the gentle air current that was stirred when she opened the bathroom door, and heard her move into her bedroom. That was five minutes ago. A moment later there was a solid thud from the direction of her bedroom. He shot down the hall again, pushing her bedroom door open to find her sprawled on the floor. Unexpectedly though, she wasn't passed out, in fact, she was lying on the floor laughing hysterically.
"What the hell?" Logan asked, trying not to join in her laughter.
"Sorry," she gasped out between giggles. "I was trying to put my pants on and got the legs tangled, and then I tried to sit down on the bed and... well, I kind of missed," she burst into giggles again.
"Are you okay," Logan asked, reaching out to help her up, trying to ignore that fact she was clad only in a silky black bra and panties.
"I bumped my elbow, if you didn't already guess... where did my pants go?" she asked suddenly, trying to locate the offending material from where she was now perched on the side of the bed.
Logan snagged the jeans in question from where they had been thrown, partway under the bed. "Think you can finish dressing on your own or do you need help with that too," he joked.
"I'm sure you'd much rather help undress me," Marie commented, then she blushed and clapped a hand over mouth. "I– I have no idea where that came from!" she stuttered, trying to stifle another laugh.
Logan tamped down on the rumbling growl that tried to break out. "Maybe you did get a little of my voice in your head," he commented huskily, grinning as Marie blushed even pinker. "Get dressed kid," he threw over his shoulder, as he walked out of her room, closing the door behind him.
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