Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

Comments: This one took a loooong time to write, mostly due to interruptions from Real Life, mostly in the form of my new house (free beer and fic for anyone who'd like to come out to Indiana and help me move.......). I don't know if it's being a new homeowner that has me in a contemplative mood or what, but this ended up being very light on the action and heavy on the discussion ;) Some parts of this were inspired by non-house RL experiences - one of those was a conversation I observed while accompanying a close friend on a particularly nerve-wracking doctor's visit. It was her first visit with this doctor, and the doctor took a history, asking my friend if she'd ever been sexually abused as a child. My friend answered in the affirmative, and the doctor said 'Well, it doesn't affect your relationships with men at all now, does it?' My friend, being the kind of person she is, gave it a couple moments' serious thought, and said 'I wouldn't say it doesn't affect my relationships *at all*.' The doctor (a woman) gave her a pitying look, shook her head and actually said 'tsk, tsk.' I couldn't believe her reaction - were you supposed to go through a huge trauma in your life like that and *completely* act as though it never happened, no matter how much help and therapy you received for it? I just didn't get it, and I still don't. Other RL-inspired conversations have found their way in here too - but I'm not telling where those are ;) I actually think we've all had these conversations at one time or another............

"Good job, darlin'. You did real good that time." Marie's trademark brilliant smile greeted Logan's compliment. At first, the self-defense and fighting lessons had been extremely difficult for her. Not physically difficult, thanks to Logan's transferred strength and healing, but emotionally so. She didn't like it when Logan pretended to attack her and she wouldn't make any move to attack him. Tears began flowing on more than one occasion. But Logan had been patient, riding out the emotions and reassuring her that he wouldn't hurt her, and was doing this only so that she would be better protected. A passionate round of love making usually followed each training session, and Logan's plain tenderness and affection during those times went a long way toward reinforcing his message. Now, Marie hardly ever teared up at all during the lessons. And the way her smile was turning from proud accomplishment to spicy sensuality told Logan that she was ready for today's post-lesson activities. "Wanna head back?"

Much to his surprise, Marie shook her head no. Logan quirked up an eyebrow, but before he could query her on what might be wrong, she came over to him, looking as playful as he'd ever seen her and practically vibrating with desire. "I wanted to try something different this time," she purred, putting her hands on his chest. "It's a nice warm day, and I thought, maybe, if you'd like, we could stay out here for - for you know."

Logan smiled at that. As many pheremones as she might be putting off, she was still shy, innocent Marie underneath it all. It was equal parts amusing and gratifying that she was beginning to try out playing the role of seductress - it meant that she was finally becoming comfortable with exercising her sexual appeal to Logan, with attracting him and offering sex. It suddenly occurred to Logan that her trust for him must really run deep for her to try this. "I'd like that. They didn't usedta call me the Wolverine for nothin', you know. We animals like the great outdoors."

"Never." Giving her hands a gentle squeeze, he eagerly followed. When they reached her chosen spot, Logan stripped off his sweaty shirt and lay it down on the ground as she slowly removed her shorts and tank top. Her clothing joined his shirt, and was followed by his denim shorts to form a little nest for the both of them. She lay down on the ground and drew him down with her. Large, rough hands reached up to cradle her face. "I love you, darlin'." A tender kiss punctuated the words.

"I love you too," Marie whispered. "I don't think I'll ever be able to make you understand how much." Logan replied with a more passionate kiss, and felt her squirm beneath him a bit. The sweat that coated both of their bodies from the workout made for a very satisfying slide against each other. As their kiss deepened, Logan's hands left her face in favor of migration south. Soon, they blanketed her breasts, caressing, squeezing, and even pinching a bit. By now, he knew what Marie liked, both in terms of physical arousal and in terms of emotional needs. This kind of slow, deliberate foreplay was reassuring for her, and Logan didn't mind indulging in it. It gave him the opportunity to luxuriate in her scent and feel, and to brand her with his. "Oh.....mmmm....."

Marie was increasingly enjoying the purely sexual aspects of their relationship, and today's peek at VixenMarie was great progress. At first, she had been very tense, shy, nervous. After Logan's injury, though, she'd become more bold, more sensual. He caught a moan or groan escaping her often now, and sometimes also caught an unguarded movement - a bucking of her hips, an arch of her back - that signaled her purely physical enjoyment of their acts. Logan liked seeing those. He wanted her to feel loved during sex, but he also wanted for Marie that raw desire, that surge of passion that comes along with making love. "That's it, darlin'," he encouraged.

"It's OK if you wanna just let go, Marie. I gotcha." His fingers urged her on, and her knees came up a bit, conveying her assent to his softly spoken words. "That's it, baby." Logan increased the pace and firmness of his caresses, drawing quicker breaths from her. He didn't think he'd ever seen her get this close, this quickly, and he was inflamed by her responses. His erection was definitely beginning to demand attention, but he wanted to let her finish before tending to his own needs.

"Marie.....darlin'....." Panting and heaving like she'd just run a marathon or three, Marie's big brown eyes found his. "Now, OK, baby?" He always asked before penetrating her. He asked before most things, but before that especially. She nodded, and he positioned himself atop her, splaying her legs just a little wider. "Umph." He sunk into her in one smooth stroke.

It always felt a lot like heaven to him to be inside her. The intimacy of it was sometimes overwhelming, and more than a little awe and astonishment always accompanied this kind of joining together. Marie trusted him so completely, body and soul, that it humbled him, made him believe there must be some higher order to the universe, some higher power at work for something so pure and sacred as that trust to be visited upon him. It certainly wasn't like anything he'd ever known before, and there were times, especially when they were together like this, that he wondered just how the hell he'd ever lived without it. As he began a rapid, persistent rhythm, he propped himself up a bit so that he could watch her, wondering if she felt those same things.

Tiny hands explored his chest and shoulders as he moved with and against her. She was warm and slick, and given that combined with the touches, well - he wouldn't take long, he knew. That kind of touching, her tenderness, always made his stamina shrink to mere minutes. "Love you," she whispered. "I love you so much." Those words shortened the time he had left even further.

"Mph!" He'd meant to say he loved her too, that he loved her more than anything, but only a grunt came out. He knew he should slow his pace a bit if anything coherent would be forthcoming, but his body was screaming for him to go faster, deeper, harder, and Marie was pliant beneath him. His body won out. "M-marie!" He came hard, and in a rush. When he was just barely back to himself he looked down at his wife, watched her eyes slide shut and saw a small smile play at the corners of her sensual mouth as she took in a deep breath. Plain satisfaction at the feel of him coming inside her was written over every pore of her. Logan stared in rapt attention - she'd never looked like this before.

"Marie," Logan said with a snarl, framing her face with his hands and guiding her gaze to him. "Love you. You're all mine." That widened her smile considerably. "God, baby¼¼." Feminine legs and arms curled around him, securing him to her. Sweat and sex permeated the summer air, and both seemed inclined to freeze time a bit, to just bask in this moment. "That was so good."

"Go 'head," he whispered back. Her soft, hot tongue began grooming him at his sideburns, gently wiping him clean of the sweat of his exertions. It was his turn to purr. She'd asked to do it periodically after his injury, and he knew it was like kissing for her - soft, affectionate, a little sexual and a lot sensual but more than that. He liked it. "Mmmm¼.."

"Come here Christopher," Scott said firmly, scooping his son up in his arms. It was the first time either Logan or Rogue had seen Scott since he'd thrown up in their cabin's bathroom, all those weeks ago. Frankly, all parties involved would have liked to have kept it that way. "Sorry. We were out for a walk. We didn't know you were out here." Logan let out a snarl, and not one of the good ones. "Sorry."

"Nah," Logan said, less out of surety that it was so than out of wanting to comfort her. "Looked like the kid kinda stumbled on us. Fuckers." He once again framed her face with his hands. "It's OK, Marie, you're OK." She nodded and tried to smile, but Logan could smell her anxiety. "You want me to talk to him? Find out for sure what he saw?"

"Well, I am - I am certain he realizes it was a mistake, an accident. He can hardly think you did something malicious or intentional to - to stumble upon them in that fashion." Scott raised one eyebrow in response, actually doing quite a good imitation of Logan's favored facial expression. "Well, he will, ah, realize that eventually."

Scott sighed and leaned back in his chair, glancing over to where Holly was supervising the kids. Christopher was playing happily with Jules, and Hank's wife was rocking their baby, Jane, as she drifted off for a nap. "I just don't feel like I belong here anymore, Hank, and not just because of the accident today. I mean - I don't have anything to do, nothing except taking care of Christopher."

"Thanks," Scott replied, smiling tightly. He didn't like being on the receiving end of anyone's charity, even his good friend's. "But we're almost done. What then? Bobby's been taking care of a lot of things, and you've been interacting with Logan, and I just feel¼¼¼.lost, I guess. I've never not had anything to do before."

"Very well, I think. Jane seems to be thriving, and that is especially gratifying to see. Holly seems to be settling in very well. She has been of so much help to me, and not just medically. I had forgotten how large a difference it can make to have a helpmate, a co-parent. I had become accustomed to performing all the household duties alone, and her help is a welcome respite."

"For a refreshing change of pace, yes," Hank dead panned. He shared a grin with his ex- teammate for a moment, then adopted a serious expression. "Things with Logan will be all right, Scott. I do not think that, after all that has transpired, he would kick you and Christopher out because of an accident. He will anger, he will rant and rave a bit, but he will calm and do the sensible thing eventually."

"Scott," Hank chided at his friend's obvious sarcasm. "He is not my favorite person either, and not - not whom I would choose to lead this settlement. But even you must admit that he has been fairly forgiving toward those who have offended him. Even you must admit that, everything considered, he is hardly the irrational despot one might have projected him to become."

"I know there will never be peace between you," Hank continued in a softer tone, ignoring Scott's barb. "But at least while Christopher is young, I hope that you can make peace with the idea of living here under his rule. There is no better place for your child at the moment. This is the world we are left with."

"Yes, you do. You might want to look into stopping that." It was Hank's turn for an understated burst of sarcasm, and it produced the expected grin on Scott's features. Hank returned his friend's smirk and leaned back in the chair. "Don't worry," he reassured, hoping that his assessment of Logan was correct. "Everything will be fine."

"Just talk to me, darlin', talk to me." Marie answered only in gasping sobs. Logan held her a little closer, trying to soothe her. They'd come home and made love, but Marie had unusual difficulty reaching climax and when she did, she burst into tears immediately afterward. Logan was sure this was somehow an after-effect of their encounter with Scott and Christopher earlier, but he wasn't exactly sure how to deal with it. He needed some input from Marie. "It's OK," he reassured.

"I'm not sure what it is," she replied, trying to steady her voice but still clinging to Logan's naked form for dear life. "It was having someone watch me, I think. I just - I don't know. I don't like that. I don't like people seeing me - seeing me - do things. It's wrong. It's dirty. It - it was what it was like with them, they all watched, and I just - "

"B-but I don't know for sure. I don't want to be that way, but what if I am? There was a reason Jean picked me and a reason that - that I couldn't stop her, couldn't control my own mind. What if, deep down, I wanted those things?" Her voice trailed off in a terrified, ashamed whisper, and for the first time, Logan's feelings toward his former friend and teammate were wholly devoid of any empathy or warm nostalgia for how she used to be. For the first time, there wasn't a trace of anything but rage toward the woman he'd known and worked beside for years. If Jean had stood before him at that moment, she wouldn't have survived long enough to take a breath. Somehow, he hadn't realized until now just how thorough and insidious the damage done to Marie had been. Not only did she have to suffer horrible abuse, she'd been made to internalize that image of herself, the idea that she on some level invited or enjoyed what had happened to her. He let out a growl without realizing it, and felt a corresponding shudder race through Marie's small form. She tried to part from him, to scoot away. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry."

"You don't have anythin' to be sorry for, Marie. Not a thing. I'm not mad at you for thinkin' those things, I'm just - I'm mad that you think 'em 'cause they're wrong, really wrong. They're all fucked up. It's not your fault that you might think that, it's normal for people to blame themselves sometimes. But you *aren't* bad, you *didn't* want those things, and Jeannie didn't pick ya 'cause there was somethin' wrong with ya like that."

"Probably because you were there, probably because she knew you trusted her and wouldn't be on your guard against her. It wasn't anythin' 'bout you, Marie." His own judgment told him that wasn't quite true - Jean had probably also chosen her because she was young, a virgin, and drop-dead beautiful, because all those things combined to give her the kind of innocent beauty that men like Gary took a special pleasure in defiling. Jean would've wanted whoever would've given her the best shot at successfully getting Scott out, and Logan no longer put those kind of bleak calculations past her. But Marie didn't need to hear all that, and the last thing she needed was a reason to hate her looks or her youth. Logan wanted those to be good things for her, especially since, thanks to his transferred healing powers, she'd look sixteen and beautiful for a hell of a long time.

"Darlin', people come as-is. Everybody does, that's just the way things are. I wish like hell you'd have never hadta go through what you did. I'd give anythin' I got to be able to make it never happen, to be able to have protected you from Jeannie. But there's not one thing I wanna change about you, not a single thing. Don't ever think I'm sittin' over here thinkin' - 'hey, I want a different Marie' or 'gee, I wish she was this or that insteada what she is'."

"You got through it and got away from them. You were strong, Marie, so strong. You survived, and believe me, that's the most important thing. It ain't bein' able to always stop who's out to hurt ya or to always get your own way in things - it's easy to be strong when you can make those things happen for ya. What matters is bein' able to make it through, even when that don't happen, bein' able to survive the shit you prayed to God would never happen to ya. You've got strength in spades, darlin'."

"Good," Logan answered lightly. "And it's OK if you cry. You don't hafta be sorry. You know that. I'm just glad you talked with me 'bout it a little bit. I love you, and I always wanna know what's goin' on with you, Marie - good, bad or indifferent. I wanna know 'cause sometimes I can fix it if somethin's wrong and even if I can't, I can still hold ya and tell ya that everythin's gonna be all right now."

"It will be," she affirmed, then paused and became thoughtful. "But that's because of you. Things with me - I can recover a little bit, I can let the emotions out a little bit, but only because you're here and you're helping me. I don't think I could ever look at life and think - 'yeah, things will be OK' if I didn't have you." Her words were nakedly honest, and Logan didn't quite know what to say to them. "I don't know if I'll ever be normal, though. I don't know if it can ever be like - like it never happened."

"Darlin', you are normal. And I don't think that things like that - they don't go away, not totally, not completely. I wish they did, but I'd be lyin' to ya if I said that that's how it was gonna work. Things like what happened to you, and what happened to me - they're always with ya, they change who you are completely - how could they not? But they don't always control you, they don't hafta dictate what kinda person you are afterwards."

"Oprah's dead, darlin', and so are most of the head-shrinkers." His eyes turned serious, and he wound a tendril of her hair around his finger. "Things don't just disappear, not things like that, and I kinda think it would be almost insultin' if they did, almost like makin' it go away lessens how bad or how profound what happened really was. You don't hafta dwell on it or let it ruin your life, but I can't imagine goin' through some big-ass trauma and havin' it disappear offa your emotional radar screen, be totally wiped clean. It affects you, changes you, seeps inta you, in good ways and in bad. You gotta keep the good and get rid of the bad, but I don't think you ever just traipse through life like it never happened. It did happen. You gotta deal with it." His gaze fell upon her face, finding it crinkled in thought. "You're dealin' with it good, Marie. You're real strong. It happened, but it didn't touch any of the good things inside you, it didn't take those away, you didn't let it. You give me so much love and so much happiness, darlin', and that's downright amazin'. Even better - you let me love ya back." Her eyes came up to meet his, and she smiled at that. "That's a pretty good thing."

"Do you ever think that perhaps the day contains too few hours?" Hank queried of his wife, Holly, as they both sat on the cabin's couch at the end of a long day. Jane had been difficult to get to sleep tonight, and Jules didn't want to go to bed until after his baby sister. Between building the addition, caring for the children, and the incredible amount of work that had to be put into everyday living in these rough conditions, Hank wasn't quite sure how he would've managed it all without Holly.

"Now, sometimes," she answered genially. "Before, there always seemed to be too many hours in the days." That was delivered in a somewhat darker tone and with a frown. It caught Hank's attention. Holly was almost unswervingly even-tempered and she'd never mentioned 'before' at all unless it was conversationally necessary. He wondered if she was trying to initiate some discussion on the topic.

"I am glad of that as well, very glad." A silence hung between them. There had been a few awkward moments in the weeks since they'd been married and usually, Holly would smile and excuse herself to attend to some real or manufactured task. Hank wasn't sure if in these moments, she became uncomfortable because she feared that he harbored a romantic or, God forbid, a sadistic interest in her of some sort, or whether she simply had a very low tolerance for social unease. In any case, she wasn't smiling or excusing herself this time. She simply remained on the couch, fidgeting a little, and staring at the floor. After pondering this new response a bit, Hank ventured a change of subject. "The tomatoes are coming along nicely. Actually, all of the vegetables are doing quite well. I daresay we shall have a fresh salad sometime this summer."

"Well, I would say that I missed Twinkies the most - they were my favorite indulgence - but in fact, many of them have survived quite well on the grocery shelves of the towns we've raided." That prompted a giggle from Holly and a delighted grin from Hank. It was the first time he'd made her laugh in quite that way. "I suppose I am fortunate to have favored such an indestructible treat."

A few days after their accidental encounter, Scott once again found himself in Logan's presence. He'd come, uninvited and without warning, to Scott's cabin. He announced that he wanted to have a discussion, one Scott assumed would consist largely of Logan chiding him for Christopher's unintended interruption of their 'romantic' life. He wasn't eager to have this conversation, but the sooner it was over with, the better, so Scott motioned Logan inside and gestured for him to sit at the kitchen table while busying Christopher with some toys and blocks on the nearby living room floor.

Logan frowned, shifted in his chair, and gestured for Scott to sit back down. He remained standing, and glaring at Logan. "I didn't think ya did, but I hadta ask. Don't make a lotta sense to me, how you acted toward Rogue when I was down. Woulda made more sense if you knew and you kept it quiet, pretended to be all surprised. But this don't lie." Logan tapped his nose, and Scott's cheeks flamed in anger.

"Nah." Logan shifted in the chair again and leaned in toward Scott across the table. "I came down here 'cause I owe you a helluva ass-kickin' for whatcha did to my wife. Forgot 'bout that for a while, but got reminded when she puked her guts up inta the bushes after you and your kid came across us out there."

"Uh-uh. This ain't 'bout what you and your kid need anymore. That stopped even bein' a factor the second you got it inta your head to act like a dickhead around Rogue. You won't ever really understand what you put her through, how scared she was, how much bad shit you dredged back up for her. I don't give a good goddamn what you hafta do to stay clear of her, but you're gonna do it. I don't want her to have the smallest worry that she's gonna hafta deal with you. If that means that you and the kid stay in here all the time, so fuckin' be it. I want you away from her, permanently." He leaned back, the very picture of a man who'd made his point and had every expectation that it would be heeded.

Logan knew where that sentence would wind up as soon as Scott's face twisted and the words began to spill out. That pushed his own anger to overflowing and he rose and cut Scott off with a vicious punch to the jaw before any more words could escape him. Scott went reeling backwards, sprawling out of the chair and on to the floor. Logan took a step toward him, primed for a fight. But before he could get to his prone foe, he heard a small voice call out, "Dada!"

Christopher came rushing to his woozy father's side, and that shook Logan out of his feral haze a bit. He took several deep breaths while he watched the tiny boy try to assess his father's condition. Scott seemed to have just gotten the wind knocked out of him; Logan couldn't recall hearing or feeling his jaw break, which was a wonder given the strength of the punch. Finally, Scott managed to pull his son to his side with one hand and raise his head to glower at Logan.

"I'm fine," Scott answered with obvious effort. "Go play now. Go on." The little boy resolutely shook his head and clung to his father. Logan's angry expression didn't soften an iota, be he did hold out a hand to Scott, offering to help him up. Scott refused, pushing Christopher away as he stood up on his own.

"Go play, Christopher. Now." Logan had heard that clipped, commanding tone a hundred times in battle, but he could tell that it was a rarity to the child. Christopher flinched, but he also did as his father told him. Scott's eyes met Logan's and locked on them. "I thought you didn't hit people when they were down."

"You wanna go another round?" Scott didn't reply. Logan visibly willed himself to calm a bit more. "I didn't mean to hit ya in fronta your boy." Scott still stood silent. "But the reality here is that I'm not gonna letcha get away with a piss poor, disrespectful attitude toward my wife. What happened to Rogue isn't fodder for your dick wavin' contest with me. It ain't some kinda joke. The next time, Scooter, I won't stop hittin' ya." Logan's deliberate, measured tone shook Scott, but he tried not to let it show. Bursts of uncontrolled temper were to be expected from Logan, but, for all his failings, Scott had never considered Logan to be the dispassionately malicious type. In his experience, that kind of anger was much more dangerous. "I meant it when I said things coulda turned out different. But I guess things are how they are now. I expect ya to keep away from my wife, Summers." Logan turned and stalked out the door, rubbing at his fist as he went. Scott knew it wasn't from any damage caused by the punch - it was the distinctive mannerism that heralded Logan's desire to unleash his claws, and that shook Scott a little more. He hadn't heeded Hank's advice to stop pissing Logan off very well at all, had he? Scott sighed and shook his head, mentally chastising himself and internally still raging at Logan for several long moments before noticing Christopher.

The child was ostensibly playing with his toys as instructed. He was sitting on the floor, and he had a block in his hand. But his eyes were wide and filled with tears and his small hands were trembling. "Oh, Christopher," Scott sighed as he moved to comfort his son. The child dropped the block and outstretched both arms toward his father as he began to cry in earnest. "It's OK. Everything's OK." Scott picked him up, holding him in his arms tightly.

Hank listened to Scott recount his run-in with Logan as their combined families plus Bobby prepared to share a dinner together. Hank wasn't at all pleased with Scott's inability to restrain himself around Logan, and it seemed clear now that the next infraction, however small, would bring about Scott's departure from the settlement. Hank pled with his friend to be very careful not to commit any kind of infraction.

"Your reaction to Logan's comments about Jean would seem to indicate the contrary." Hank saw Scott's expression harden a bit, and he soothed, "We are all here to support you. I cannot claim to understand what you are going through but we are all sympathetic to the magnitude of your feelings and the severe difficulty of your situation."

"I didn't used to be the kind of person who *needed* help," Scott mused with barely-concealed bitterness. Before Hank could jump in with more reassurances, he held up a hand to forestall his friend's words of comfort. "I know, I know. And I appreciate your support, I do. But I feel so useless lately, and I just - I don't know why I can't keep my temper in check around Logan. I don't know why it's so hard. But I'm not mad at Jean. That's over. I just - I don't know."

A day later, Hank's optimism had entirely vanished. In fact, it had been replaced by utter shock and an acute dread verging on panic. "What I am telling you is that I do not know what it is." Hank was debriefing Logan on his examination of Christopher, as well as that of a camp resident that had come to his door in the middle of the night, having suddenly taken very ill. Both had developed symptoms alarmingly close to those the Legacy virus had induced in its victims. Several other residents were now exhibiting the very early symptoms - fever, stiffness in the joints, headaches - and Hank didn't quite know what to make of it. Everyone still surviving should be immune to the virus, but what if it had mutated, changed? What if this was something else altogether, another biogenetically engineered weapon designed to wipe out mutants? On the other hand, what if it was merely a very bad case of the flu?

"I- I do not know if I can find out. I would need at least - at the very least, I would need some sophisticated equipment, and a real laboratory facility. Somewhere to create sterile conditions. But even before everything fell apart, no scientist could determine how to combat Legacy. None of our best minds - "

"Hmmm...." Hank pondered that. It wasn't a half-bad idea. Hank had been consulting on the design of a doctor's office for some time now, one that would include a real operating room for the camp residents who needed surgery for whatever reason. With Logan's backing and the help of several residents, the project had begun construction two months ago. It was nearing completion, but much of the equipment had not been located yet, much less moved to the facility. However, the room was finished, there was some equipment already there, and he could create sterile, laboratory-like conditions in which to study this illness. "Yes. It could work, but it needs to be finished quickly. Very quickly."

"I concur. I shall ask Scott to assist me in spreading the word and gathering help." Logan was silent at that, but since he hadn't said no, Hank continued. "I shall let you know as soon as I know anything, and I shall inform you if more people take ill." He rose with some difficulty, due to the hip, and Rogue rose with him, helping to steady him a bit. "Ah, thank you."

"Correct," Hank reassured. "But Christopher is worsening." Hank couldn't quite read Rogue's reaction to that. "We must remember that it could be nothing, though. It could be a simple case of the flu. We must not overreact." She nodded at that, but didn't meet his eyes. As he made pleasantries and goodbyes, Hank tried to make his own mind follow that advice. They had to find out what they were dealing with.

"I don't want him to die," Marie interrupted in a defensive tone. Logan just watched her and waited. At last, she stopped pacing and leaned back against the counter, facing him. "I know, in my head, that what happened to me isn't his fault. I just - I don't know. I guess that I - the thought occurred to me that it would be kind of poetic justice if something did happen to him. I mean, all that Jean went through to give him the perfect life, and now - boom, he's sick. He's sick and it could be serious. The thought of her sitting up in heaven or wherever and having to watch him suffer as much as I suffered - I don't like myself for it, but I kind of had a feeling of satisfaction or 'fair's fair' when that occurred to me. But the next thing I thought was that it would've been all for nothing. Everything I went through would've kind of been for nothing then. Not even Jean would've gotten what she wanted out of it. It would've been for absolutely nothing. I didn't like that thought very much," she finished ruefully.

"You know what I mean - heaven, the afterlife, wherever." She said it in an almost pouting tone, one Logan was unaccustomed to hearing from her. His expression must've said so because she softened upon seeing it. "Sorry. It's just that - why wouldn't she be in heaven? Everyone loved her. Her thing with me was a minor little blip in the big, sprawling mass of glorious perfection that was Jean's life."

"'Minor blip' ain't how I see it." Logan huffed and rose from his chair, taking slow but deliberate steps toward her. He waited until he was within an arms' length before continuing. "I've seen what it did to you, Marie." Her eyes darted to the floor, and Logan gently put his fingertips beneath her chin and lifted her head back up. "It's OK. But it's not a small thing. It's a big thing. I don't think I'll ever be in any position to judge who gets inta heaven, but what she did to you - it's not somethin' that can be made up for by a lifetime of good works. Nothin' she did before makes what she did to you then any better. It's just - it's there, it's how it is. I know me and everybody else didn't think she could do somethin' like that at first. I know we kept sayin' - no way, she's not that kinda person. But she was that kinda person. She was. And even if there was good in there too, it don't wash away the bad."

"How can you even ask that, Marie?" Logan saw those eyes get wetter and he reminded himself that Marie was at least as equally untutored in relationships and love as he was. And that she was still a teenager, one who'd been through much more than her fair share of trauma. "I never thought of the words marriage and Jeannie together. I never thought of the words marriage and anybody together. But I couldn't wait to make you my wife."

"Yeah," Logan insisted, "you did. It's OK." He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm his internally churning emotions. It really had stung him, that she would think that of him, but he tried to remind himself it had little to do with him and a lot to do with Marie's history with Jean. "You can say whatcha think. You're always safe with me, Marie, and I mean that in a lotta ways. You're safe to say whatcha think or if I'm pissin' ya off. But I hope you don't think that any more. I wouldn't - it wouldn't be the truth and I wouldn't wanna have you seein' things that way."

"I never meant to hurt you with that, by saying that. I just - I guess I wonder sometimes why you took me in, loved me, risked your life for me, gave me so much. I can't see anything about myself that would make someone act like that. Not towards me. I love you so much - please, please don't think anything bad about us because I said that."

She didn't respond in words, but her head dropped to his shoulder and her body went nearly limp in his arms. He knew it was hard for her, and he knew he'd underestimated just how hard and how much healing she still had to do. He gave her a soft kiss on the head, and carried her to their bed, wanting to once again reinforce with his body what words alone couldn't convey.

"I need more time." Hank didn't take his gaze away from the microscope. He hadn't for the last thirty minutes - not when another new piece of equipment was brought in to the operating room, not when Logan had radioed to tell him that the other patient had died during the night, not when Bobby had radioed to tell him that Christopher's fever was at 104 and the children's Tylenol and everything else Hank had sent over wasn't making a dent, and not now, when Holly had come by to encourage him to try something, anything with Christopher. "And an electron microscope. Has someone tried the university of Wyoming?"

"They're on their way over there now," Holly replied. "But it'll take hours and Christopher - Hank, we've got to do something for him, and we have to do it now." She stepped up to stand beside him, and when he didn't give a response, she laid a gentle hand on his arm to try to get his attention. Finally, Hank looked up, his exhaustion seemingly seeping out of every pore.

"I do not know the cause. I only know what it is *not* - it is not simple influenza, or a respiratory infection. I do not know the cause, and therefore I can only treat the symptoms. We have tried every possible treatment for the symptom of the fever, but unless we know the root cause, I can venture no further options. Anything attempted would simply be a shot in the dark. It could do more harm than good, you know that as well as I do, Holly." Hank rubbed at his forehead and tried not to think about the fact that it had been at least fifty hours since he last slept. "We just - we need more time."

Hank harrumphed, slumped, and frowned. After a few moments' thought, he answered. "My 'gut' says that it is a mutation, a variant of Legacy, one that can now attack one of what could be dozens of possible immunity factors in humans and mutants. There were - there were theories about what made for immunity at first, but things fell apart too quickly, much too quickly, for anyone to *research* the disease in any serious way. What little we do know - that it is spread like influenza, through airborne particles, that symptoms develop within 48 hours or so of exposure and rapidly worsen, then culminate in the patient's death within 24-48 hours, that none of the pharmaceuticals used to treat the infection had any significant effectiveness - that which we *do* know only helps us to predict the course of the disease, not stop it. What we have now - it looks like a mutation of Legacy, but even if my 'gut' is correct in that assumption, that knowledge provides me absolutely no way to stop it. None."

"I did have a theory, before I was forced to leave the mansion, leave my lab. The anti-viral drugs all failed to slow the progression of the disease, but when they were given in combination with certain anti-bacterial drugs, there was a minor slowdown - only a few hours, but it worked in nearly all patients who underwent the treatment. My theory was that, if the immune system could be strengthened, perhaps with some of the drugs used with AIDS patients were added to the mixture of anti-virals and anti-biotics given to the patients, I don't know - my theory was that there could be a longer slowdown or even a reversal of the infection." Hank looked into Holly's hopeful eyes. "It was just a theory. I need to examine the virus further and test the reactions of various drug combinations. I have no - I have no data to back up this theory."

He nodded and, not wasting another second, set out for the storehouse to retrieve the appropriate drugs. He would try it - Holly was right, Christopher was running out of time - but he would also be very clear with Scott about the chances of success for this plan. He did not want to give his friend false hope. Sighing, he made his way across the compound with Holly in tow, sending up silent prayers for some kind of miracle. He didn't want to think about what Scott might do if he lost his son. He didn't want to think about that at all.

"Dat was fun!" Jules enthused. He'd been sent to stay with Logan and Marie, and saw it as one big adventure. In Jules' mind, he was getting to have an exciting stay with his friend Rogue, who he didn't see nearly enough for his tastes, while his Daddy was working hard to help his best friend Christopher get all better. In Jules' mind, there was no doubt that his father would succeed, and therefore, his enjoyment of this afternoon's Lego tower building and even more enjoyable subsequent demolition of the tower he and Rogue had made, was untainted. "Do it 'gain?"

"Sure, if you want to." Marie, for her part, was enjoying Jules' visit despite the circumstances as well. She'd been a little unsure how Logan would take to having the child stay with them, but so far he'd seemingly been just fine with it. Marie was glad, though, that Bobby had volunteered to care for Jane - the thought of having an infant who didn't and couldn't understand the danger her skin presented in such close proximity to her made her more than a little nervous. "I'm glad you brought your Legos."

"Sure. He's a good kid. Does what we say. Ain't too loud. Don't make a big mess or nothin'. 'Sides, one day we'll have our own little ones. Might as well get some practice in where we can, huh?" Logan was nonchalantly stirring the chili pot, but he was internally quite focused on Marie's reaction. He knew she needed time, probably quite a bit of it, before she'd be ready to have children, but they hadn't really discussed it before getting married, and Logan was eager to test the waters on the subject. Seeing Marie be so natural and caring with Jules made it seem like a good time to do so. Logan was sure that he wanted children - lots of them. That was another Marie-related first - he'd never thought of having a family before her. But actually, the idea of tiny, adorable mixtures of him and her that they could love and raise and provide for had been swirling in his head for quite some time now. He was willing to wait - they did, after all, have a lot of time - but he did want to know how Marie felt about the idea.

Logan let out a small laugh at that. "Yep. No rush. But someday soon." Marie stopped setting the table, and turned her gaze upon him. It was equal parts shyness and warmth and it made Logan want to clear the place settings she'd just laid down and lay Marie out on the table instead. "Whenever we're both good and ready. We got time."

"We do. But I'm glad you'd - I'm really glad you'd like to do that with me, have kids someday. It means a lot to me that you think I'd be a good enough mom." She was utterly sincere - there was no hint of false modesty in her words. Logan's heart tightened at that, and the hand he'd kept on the wooden spoon in the pot fell away from it. "You'll be a really great dad."

She shrugged. "I still kind of feel like a kid myself sometimes. There's a lot - a lot I'd want to work out before I took responsibility for a child. I don't - I don't see it like - like those people back in Westchester, that kids are just there for your convenience and to do whatever you want to with. If I had responsibility for a child, I'd want to protect it and take care of it. I'm still kind of busy learning to take care of myself and you - you know, in the husband kind of way. I'm still learning how to give you things you need. But I'm really glad to know you think that I'd be able to be a good mom one day."

Over in the Summers cabin, things were decidedly more morose. Hank and Scott sat on either side of Christopher's crib, with Hank checking the small boy's vitals every twenty minutes or so. He'd given Christopher a drug cocktail, he'd explained to Scott, one he hoped would at least slow the progression of the disease. Scott's eyes glimmered with hope before Hank also explained that it was very unlikely that the drugs could reverse, not just slow, the progression of the disease. As the drugs took hold, Hank's prediction was realized - Christopher's fever went down to a far less life-threatening 101 within a few hours, and it was continuing to fall steadily at the moment. Hank had sent Holly off to minister to the increasing number of affected residents, offering them the same drug cocktail while trying to assess from Christopher's reactions what modifications and improvements could be made to the dosages and combination. He'd just administered an increased dose of the immune system-boosting drugs to the child, and that seemed to be helping.

"Yes, punishment. You know, for what Jean did." Hank blinked, trying to clear his head a bit and searching for something reassuring to say to his friend. Before he could come up with anything, Scott continued. "You know what they say about the sins of the father being visited upon the son - maybe that holds true for the mother too." There was a tone of bitterness and resignation in his voice, both things Hank had never quite heard from him to this degree before.

"So would I. But He sure hasn't seemed that way lately, has He?" Scott put a gentle hand on his son's stomach and began rubbing it. Christopher sighed in his sleep and turned his head toward the source of his tummy-rubbing. "He destroyed this whole world, all of it, the good and the bad, with that virus. You can't tell me that - that the people who were left were the righteous people, the people God wanted to spare. Maybe he just took one big swipe at the whole thing, and he didn't care who was killed and who survived. That doesn't sound like a loving, forgiving God to me. Sounds like an arbitrary, uncaring son of a bitch."

"Well, then He shouldn't expect me to give a damn, should he?" More and more bitterness had crept into Scott's tone. "If he's not going to deign to explain to us why he has to kill the people we love, destroy the world we made, then why should I give a damn about doing the right thing, being good, all of those things?"

Hank's eyebrows crinkled in irritation. Part of him knew that Scott was just venting, blowing off steam, but part of him was troubled by the words coming from his friend and former team leader. "Perhaps the right thing is intrinsically worth doing. Perhaps we do the right things because they are *right*. If we do them in hopes of some sort of material or spiritual reward or compensation, we will be sorely disappointed. The world doesn't work that way."

Hank replied immediately, without thinking, and the answer came from his soul, not his overworked, under-rested brain. "I do not mean to infer that it does not feel like a punishment or that it does not cause you unthinkable pain. But, Scott - all things die. It is the unvarying law of nature, if not of God. I do not know why that is, why there is death and pain and suffering in the world that God has created for us. But I do know that it does not undercut or nullify the good in this world. My heart will break for you if Christopher passes away. Your suffering has already been very great. But I will not think of it as some punishment, some powers-that-be retribution for the sins committed by your wife, by Christopher's mother. Perhaps God is not just. Perhaps he permits things like Legacy, like Christopher's illness for reasons that we would not call just even if we were to come to know and fully understand what those reasons are. But I do believe that he is loving, and that he will offer you comfort in this life and the next."

"My wife is dead," Hank returned, with more than a little iron in his voice. "Do you think I am a stranger to suffering? Do you not think that I have cried out to God a hundred times, a thousand times, protesting her death, her separation from me and the son she loved so dearly? I do not understand why she was taken from me. I only know that it could not have been a punishment or judgment of her. I knew her too well, and knew that she was far too good a person to deserve the fate dealt to her. But I must continue to trust in God. That is faith, Scott."

"All right," Hank admitted, in a tight but even tone, "I don't know how it works. I can only tell you how I believe God *does not* work. And I do not believe he is punishing your son for Jean's actions. I am willing to take it on faith that He loves us and is merciful toward us when we sin. I can understand why one would not feel that way, though. But, Scott, blaming Jean will not help Christopher."

"Yes," Hank wearily confirmed. As he gently inserted a thermometer into Christopher's ear, hoping not to disturb his rest, he tried to think of some other way to reach Scott. When the soft, electronic beep of the thermometer signaled that it's work was completed, Hank sighed and raised it to his eyes. He read the figure and blinked once, then again. "Scott - would you read the number on the thermometer to me, please?" Scott gave him a look, but Hank had to be sure it wasn't his bleary mind or wishful thinking that had produced a hallucination.

"It's - " Scott interrupted himself as he read the small digital display, probably as hopeful yet disbelieving as Hank had been a moment ago. "It's 98.6. It's - it's normal." That had never happened before - the drugs used had produced a slowdown of the rise of the trademark Legacy fever, and sometimes a reduction for a brief period, but patients never attained a normal temperature during treatment. At least - not before now. "Hank, it's normal!"

"It is wonderful news," Hank agreed, his sagging spirit buoyed by this turn of events. However, he still wanted to be cautious. They were far from being out of the woods yet. "We will administer another dose of the cocktail now and again in approximately one hour. Perhaps we can build on this foothold. Let - let us hope that we have stumbled upon something that can help Christopher and the others." Please God, Hank added silently, let this help.

"So, it's workin'?" Logan queried of Holly. She'd come to the cabin to retrieve Jules, since the worst of the crisis seemed over. Hank's drug cocktail was working on nearly all of the patients with this variant of Legacy; it was working for Christopher well enough that Hank felt comfortable leaving him to the care of his father and finally, after nearly 90 hours without sleep, was getting some rest for himself.

"It seems to be. We're not out of the woods yet. They could relapse. But it does seem unlikely. They seem to be tired, achy, but they all are getting better and stronger by all observable signs." Holly was always a bit nervous around Logan. Hank assured her that Jules would be safe with him and Rogue, but there was something about the man that just didn't sit well with Holly. He looked every bit as rough-and-tumble as his reputation made him out to be, and there was definitely a 'don't piss me off' vibe about him at all times, even now, during casual conversation that bore good news to him. She wondered, not for the first time, what Rogue's life with him was like and felt glad that she hadn't wound up with someone like him.

"Yeah," Marie agreed with a smile. They shared a comfortable moment of silence before Marie changed the subject. "I'm glad Christopher will live. I'm glad that Hank found something to help people and that almost everyone who was sick will get better. It's - I guess it's a little bit of luck after all the bad things that have happened to people, to all of us."

Logan let her get it out. He could tell she'd given the words some thought and that they hadn't exactly come easy. "I'm glad the kid'll live too. But what I said to Scott before all this went down - that still goes. I want him away from us, away from you. I don't wanna have you hafta deal with 'em if you don't wanna."

"I don't want to," Marie affirmed. "But - but I guess I can cope with them living here, in the settlement a little better now. It's weird, but having Christopher become so ill, him having that brush with death - somehow it makes it a little easier to think about them. I'm not proud of that. I know it's wrong. But it's there, it's how I feel. It's kind of like there's this little part of me that's going - good, now you know a little of what it's like. Now you have a taste of what it feels like to really have to go through something hard. Now you've suffered some too." Logan was just looking at her with an unreadable expression, and she shrugged a little. "I know I shouldn't be that way, but that's honestly how I feel."

"I understand," Logan said softly. "And I'm glad you told me how you felt 'bout it. I meant what I said before, Marie - you can always tell me what's goin' on inside you, even when it ain't all sunshine and roses." Her expression warmed at that. Her words about being able to recover a bit because she had him came back to Logan, and he felt a kind of pride at them. She was getting better, she was healing emotionally, and he had played a big role in that. He was beyond grateful that he could provide that for her, that he could make such a big, good difference in her life. Their talks, his reassurances - all of it was helping Marie, and, truth be told, it was helping Logan too. He'd never felt quite as content or happy as he did at this point in his life. It was strange, given the state of the world in which they lived, but Logan could cope with this kind of strange. He turned his thoughts away from philosophical contemplation for the moment, and toward the woman in front of him. There was time for thinking more about it later; the time for loving Marie was now. "C'mon. Let's get reacquainted, darlin'." Marie's smile widened, and Logan sprouted a smile of his own.

"As am I." Holly reached out to squeeze Hank's hand. She'd done it only once before, when he'd first awoken. He thought it a very nice gesture. However, this time, unlike the time before, she wasn't letting go right away. In fact, she was bringing up her other hand to cradle his larger one with both. A little confused at her actions and the serious, contemplative look on her face, Hank settled on squeezing back a bit. "Holly?"

"I didn't realize at first just how lucky I'd been to find you, Hank, but seeing you these past few days, seeing how hard you worked, how tirelessly you worked to find a way to help these people - I've never seen anyone give that much of themselves. And not just the long hours in the lab and the huge amount of brain work that went into adjusting the drugs and dosages - you really were there for Scott when he needed you most. Even if he was being - being a little difficult, you still just stayed calm, stayed centered, and tried to help him as much as you could in every way. I guess I want you to know I really admire you for all that, Hank, and I feel very lucky to be married to you and to be living here with you."

"Thank you," Hank whispered. He was delightedly surprised by her words. His friends didn't often recognize or comment on his efforts quite that way; it wasn't that he didn't think they appreciated him, he knew they did. It was just very nice to hear it out loud. "I feel very fortunate as well. I could not have gotten through this crisis without your help."

"Ah. Quite right," Hank returned with equal good nature. Much to his surprise, just as he took a bite of toast, Holly leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Before he could react, before he could really process what had happened at all, she met his eyes. Her gaze was direct, matter-of-fact, assessing. She must've seen what she'd been seeking, because she gave Hank a ghost of a smile before she darted out of the room. Hank sat there, holding his toast in one hand, with his mouth still in mid-chew, for quite a few moments before resuming his breakfast and musing on this development.

"Right here, Christopher." Scott quickly moved into his son's line of view. He seemed almost all better now. His fever hadn't returned and the drugs that Scott dutifully gave him according to the schedule Hank had specified seemed to be easing the aches and pains Christopher had suffered as well. The only lingering effect was that he seemed unusually tired. All things considered, Scott could cope with that. "How are you feeling?"

That was a welcome sign. It was the first time he'd asked to be fed since he'd taken ill. "I can get you some dinner if you like. Would you like some juice?" Christopher's tiny head nodded, and Scott returned the gesture. But before he could rise and head for the kitchen, Christopher's small voice stopped him.

"I think - I think you might've seen your mother." The words seemed to come of their own volition and the whisper in which they were delivered was one of awe and disbelief. Surely Christopher couldn't have dreamed about Jean - he never knew her, she'd died when he was too young. Scott showed him pictures sometimes, but Christopher never seemed to really remember Jean from one time to the next. Could she really have reached out to him from - from wherever she was? Or was it some fevered hallucination, some random association with the pictures of her Christopher had seen? "Christopher," Scott stammered, "what did she talk to you about?"

"Sure. Sure." Scott fled the room, and let the tears flow. He thought back to his conversation with Hank and some long-ago Sunday school snippet about signs and wonders that revealed God's presence popped into his head. He took a few long moments to gather himself and try to make some sense of all of it before heading off in search of Christopher's dinner.