Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

As winter settled in over the mountains, Logan and Marie came to a workable, even pleasant living arrangement. She was beginning to actually feel comfortable there, to occasionally let down her guard, to laugh and joke with Logan, to just be able to live her life without fear. Logan, too, seemed to be enjoying their arrangement. He'd never been a man very fond of company, but Marie was somehow different. It wasn't that she was effortless to be around, far from it. He found himself thinking before he spoke and mulling over her reactions and opinions much more than he ever had for anyone else in his whole life. But there was something rewarding about her being there, and something genuine about the way they talked and acted with one another. Perhaps what Logan was enjoying best was sharing a space with someone who made no pretenses, and who played straight with him. He didn't think he'd ever quite had that before. He didn't even mind sleeping on the chair too much, if it meant he could get more of it.

In the heart of the winter, though, the last week of January, their idyllic existence was thrown a huge monkey wrench. A new arrival, the first one after Marie and quite a surprise given the weather and the impassability of the mountain roads, landed at the Yellowstone entrance. At first, it seemed fairly routine. It was a middle-aged man, looking exhausted and frostbitten, who claimed he was a mutant with super-strength and the ability to fly, which would explain how he'd arrived despite the condition of the roads. Toad's test came up positive, and Bobby drove down to get him and bring him before Logan, as usual.

The first inkling that there might be something not quite copasetic with this particular new arrival was on the ride up. The man chattered endlessly to Bobby, which wasn't all that unusual - most mutants were nervous in this situation, and that was perfectly natural. What seemed a little off was his choice of subject matter. All he talked about was whether he could find a wife here, or two or three. He also made several distasteful and lewd comments to Bobby on the way up, which Bobby mostly ignored. An abundance of crassness wasn't necessarily a reason to turn someone away, he thought, and Logan himself wasn't known for his tact and subtlety. He finished the drive, eager to be relieved of his charge, and showed the man up to the cabin.

"Hey," the man returned. "I'm Gary. Damn glad to be here." He took Logan's unoffered hand and shook it hard. That earned him a raised eyebrow and a sharply withdrawn hand from Logan. "Sorry. Sorry. Just - just I'm so glad to be somewhere safe."

"Fine place you've got here, too! Did you take over all of Yellowstone or what? I bet there's a lot of people here now." Gary's twitchy enthusiasm also had Scott on alert now. He rose from his seat and came a little closer to Logan.

No one answered Gary's question, and Bobby asked to leave. After receiving what looked like an affirmative nod and wave of the hand from Logan (but what was really a secret signal for Bobby to stay outside, at the ready), he exited and closed the front door behind him. Logan began pacing in circles around the newcomer as he began asking questions.

"Texas, originally, but I was raised in Minnesota. Found my way out here from New England. You wouldn't believe some of what goes on up in that other place in Maine! Sure, some of it's a hoot, you know, but there are some scary people up there, brother!"

"Yeah. Say," Gary turned to face Scott a little. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Scott only shrugged. "Coulda sworn I met up with a mutie like you somewhere along the way. You know, with funky-ass glasses like that. Guy shot laser beams outta his eyes or somethin', couldn't control it." Scott just shrugged again. "What's your power then? Why the glasses?"

"What are *your* powers, bub?" Logan brought Gary's attention back around to him. The man could've known Scott from his brief time in Maine, but Logan thought Scott would've said something if that was it. All of his senses were running on high alert. He was sure Gary was a threat, but he didn't know what kind yet.

"Me? Oh, nothing much. I fly, you know, levitation, really, and I'm stronger than the average bear." Gary gave a wink and pantomimed pistol-shooting with both hands at the conclusion of his comments. That didn't make Logan or Scott like him any better.

The answer to Gary's question was once again shunned, this time when a small gasp was hear emitting from Rogue as she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a thick robe. Logan registered it, but didn't take his eyes off Gary. Scott, however, was facing Rogue and could plainly see terror written across her features. "Rogue?" he asked.

Rogue abruptly tightened her grip on her robe and ducked back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, and Logan's claws quickly emerged from both hands. Gary only shrugged at Rogue's actions, but he seemed to startle a little at Logan's.

"Whoa, that's freaky!" Gary's comment on the claws didn't reach Logan. He knew what threat Gary presented now. "Do you see that, man?" He turned to Scott for a confirmation of sorts, but he suddenly paused after doing so and tilted his head in thought. "Hey, you are the laser-beam guy. I do remember you. Real pretty wife. Redhead, right? Heh. Man, you must be a demon in the sack 'cause that bitch really loved you - you wouldn't believe the shit she did to - " Gary either saw Scott's jaw clench or heard Logan's growl - something brought him back to reality and made him think that perhaps he was not pursuing the best conversational line with his new hosts. "Uh, no offense, man."

"You, ah, were a little out of it." Scott knew he was referring to the time he'd been in captivity, in a human prison. Had Gary been a fellow prisoner? "We took good care of ya, though. You know, just 'cause we worked for the man doesn't really mean anything. Even us prison trustees were still brothers in the genes, right?" Yes, a fellow prisoner, Scott thought, and one of the ones that helped the humans round up and torture their own kind.

"How do you know my wife?" Scott barely got the words out. Gary tried to turn back to face Logan, hoping for some support from that quarter, but his shoulder smacked solidly into Logan's chest. The man was only inches away from him and he appeared to be baring his teeth. Gary turned back toward Scott. "Answer me."

One adamantium claw had pierced Gary's shoulder joint, causing excruciating pain, but little real damage. Well, little life-threatening damage. "Tell the man what he wantsta know, bub. I got five other claws. Get me?"

"What the fuck're you hittin' me for?" Gary, pumped up by anger, shoved Scott back from him and twisted away from Logan. Both men kept close to him. Neither saw Rogue crack open the bathroom door for a peek at what was going on. "Look, she asked for it. Hell, she begged me for it. Good fuck, too. She wanted to spring your ass outta the prison, and she hadta go through me to do it. Wouldn't let me do everything I wanted to, though, kept sayin' somethin' 'bout bein' pregnant and she didn't want me to cut on her down in there 'cause it might hurt the baby. I said - who the fuck wants to bring a kid into this world? I'd be doing you a favor. Still no go, and she was a telepath, so I couldn't make her, but I wasn't gonna help spring you either. So she delivered your little friend back there instead. Had a *hell* of a good time with her. Me and all the rest of the boys. That skin was no problem, lemme tell ya. She was only fourteen, you know, and she'd never even - "

Gary never saw the next punch coming; it descended upon him with lightening speed. This time it was from Logan, and this time it broke his jaw. Bobby came in at that - the sound of a body hitting the floor was an unmistakable cue for him to enter. He saw both of his former teammates nearly paralyzed with rage.

"He's gonna die for it." Gary's eyes went wide at that and so did Bobby's. Gary began to rise, apparently trying to fly out the still-open door, but Scott quickly brought his short flight to a halt with an optic blast to the center of his chest. Logan stepped over to where Gary had fallen face-first to the floor, kicking him onto his back with a booted foot. "You ain't goin' nowhere, asshole. Bobby, shut that door. Scott, keep him here." Logan stalked back to toward the bathroom, toward a still-peeking-out and very scared Marie.

"Go back to the cabins, Bobby. We've got this under control." Bobby hadn't heard that exact tone of voice in more than a year from Scott. It was the command voice, the one he used in battle to issue orders. This was unmistakably an order, but Bobby just kept thinking back to the X-men's long-ago credo, one of Scott's own making - X-men don't kill. Not unless it's absolutely necessary, not unless there's no other way.

"He's not leaving this cabin alive," Scott said with iron in his voice. "Now get out, go back to the cabins. Do it, Bobby." Bobby wavered a moment more. He briefly considered trying to get through to Logan, trying to reason with him, but then realized the ridiculousness of thinking Logan would be more amenable to a peaceful resolution of this than Scott.

"It's justice," Logan answered, pulling along a skittish Rogue behind him. Bobby could almost taste her terror - it seemed to seep out of every pore in her body. "I'm gonna give ya one chance to apologize to Rogue, bub, and then I'm gonna start hackin' off parts. Got it?"

"Dmmiiittt! Srrrryyy!" Gary squirmed on the floor, holding his shattered jaw in one hand and trying to lever himself up to a sitting position with the other. Just as he'd managed to sit up, Scott kicked his supporting hand out from underneath him. "Mmmmfff!"

"You got anythin' you wanna say to this piece of shit, darlin'?" Rogue just stayed behind Logan and shook her head no. He looked into her eyes for a moment to be sure it was what she wanted. "You wanna be the one to put him down?" Her eyes began to glow at that. Bobby's empathy toward her for her earlier obvious terror shifted quickly to fear of her when he saw the look on her face. "All right." Logan stepped behind her, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he steered her in front of him. "Take your time," he encouraged.

Rogue knelt before him, and extended one hand slightly. Some part of Scott's brain was trying to tell him to stop her, not because he had changed his mind about Gary's deserved fate, but because he knew from Hank how her mutation worked and didn't want her to have to have this sick degenerate in her head just to ensure his demise. Scott could do it much more cleanly with an optic blast. He could even let Rogue be the one to raise his visor, so that it would still be her dealing the fatal blow. But before he could get any of it out, before the plan even really finished forming in his mind, he saw three white claws shoot out from her extended hand.

Neither Rogue nor Logan had ever told anyone at the settlement about the full extent to which she'd absorbed Logan's powers. Logan's general attitude was that any and all information about he and/or Rogue was given out only on a need-to-know basis, and no one ever needed to know much. Rogue too, saw it as something private and besides, she had few other friends at the camp besides Logan; there was no one, really, for her to tell. She was probably closest to Jules, and that kind of revelation wasn't appropriately shared with a four-year-old. Now, Scott and Bobby would know their little secret as well.

Gary, too, but his life expectancy had shrunken to mere seconds. Rogue looked into his eyes, seeing sheer panic and anger. She thought she probably looked much the same when he'd been about to hurt her - or she would've if Jean hadn't still been in control of her mind. She perched the points of all three claws on Gary's forehead, raising droplets of blood with each claw-point. The bone claws weren't as sturdy as metal, but the edges were just as sharp. Marie was fairly sure they'd puncture bone, but she didn't want to take any chances, she wanted to kill him in one swift, certain blow. And she definitely didn't want to hurt herself in the process. Trailing the claws down his face, efficiently slicing through his eyelids and nostrils on the way down, she ignored his screams and slowly, finally settled the claws on his neck.

"That'll off him in a hurry," Logan counseled, kneeling beside her. "You sure that's what you want?" Rogue nodded, not taking her eyes from the man before her. His strangled screams were slowing now, but his arms and legs flailed more frantically. Scott's still-smoldering optic blast to his torso had pretty much immobilized him, though, and his uncoordinated, desperate limbs were easily avoided. Taking a final deep breath to steady herself, Rogue sunk the claws deep into his fleshy neck, silencing him finally. She thrashed the claws back and forth, effectively decapitating him. Only a thin column of his spine still held his head to his body.

Rogue abruptly rocked backwards into Logan when it was done, claws still extended. "It's OK. It's OK." He wrapped his arms around her and helped her rise to her feet. "It's OK. Let's go getcha cleaned up. Come on." He gave a meaningful backward glance to Scott as he led Rogue to the kitchen wash basin. Even Bobby could read it - take your shots, and get rid of the body. Bobby felt like he was going to be sick.

"Go on back down to the cabins, Bobby," Scott said softly. "You don't want to see this." This time, Bobby obeyed, wordlessly leaving and high-tailing it back to his own cabin. Scott stared a long time at the body, watching the bright red life seep out of it. How someone, some*thing* like this could've corrupted his beloved Jean, he couldn't fathom. Maybe that was what made him most angry of all. He knelt beside Gary's remains, whispering a few harsh words to his departed soul, then began hauling the body out. Once he'd hefted what was left of Gary - floppy, semi-attached head and all, out the door - he turned to find Logan for a final glance before he departed.

He saw the man who'd been so animal just moments before, the man who'd urged Rogue to kill, and to do it slowly, now tenderly wiping away the blood from her claws and whispering words of affection and reassurance to her. That, as much as anything he'd seen or heard tonight, shocked Scott. Logan's body language changed, indicating that he had noted Scott's stare after a moment, and Logan glanced up at him, just briefly, his attention leaving Rogue for less than a second. It wasn't the I-told-you-so expression or the feral mien Scott would've expected. It was a look of sympathy and sorrow, two emotions Scott wouldn't have credited the man with before that moment. He nodded - to himself, since Logan's eyes were back on Rogue now - and went outside to finish his task.

"Hank?" Scott wearily entered his cabin, eager to end this horrible day. Jules was snoozing on their couch, so Hank couldn't be far away. Scott was always grateful for Hank's babysitting services whenever he had to leave Christopher, but never more so than tonight.

"I am here." Hank emerged from Christopher's room, looking a bit weary himself. "Bobby stopped by." Scott hung his head a little at that, slumping into one of the kitchen chairs. "Scott, what in heaven's name happened up there?"

"Do you mind grabbing a couple of glasses and that bottle of Scotch that I keep under the sink?" He'd wanted to save it for some special occasion, maybe the day Logan finally packed up and bugged out of the settlement, but today, he needed it.

Hank warily did as Scott asked, dwarfing the chair opposite him as he descended into it. He plunked both glasses down, unscrewed the bottle cap, and poured them each a generous portion. Bobby had come to the cabin pale and shaken, muttering about murder and declaring both Scott and Logan insane. Hank had calmed him, then sent him back to his own cabin with a mild sedative. He was sure that Bobby had overreacted or gotten something wrong - Logan might savagely kill someone for little apparent reason, but Scott was no criminal, even here, where there were no laws. But now, seeing Scott's demeanor, Hank knew that Bobby's ravings had borne some truth.

"Everything Rogue said about Jean - it's true." Hank physically flinched back at that. He'd shared Scott's conviction that Paul had somehow been mistaken about what he'd seen. "The man - the *thing* - they brought in tonight was the one she went to, the one she - she got to get me out of the prison." Scott took another long drink. "She did it. She sent Rogue to him, and he raped her, cut her, passed her around to other men. Jean - Jean did it."

"Yes. And I wish I could dig that bastard up and kill him again. Over and over. That son of a bitch." Scott finished the scotch and grabbed at the bottle to pour himself another. Hank simply sat in silence, trying to work through what Scott had said. "How could she - Hank, you knew her, you were her best friend for years. How could she ever - *ever* - do something that vile? Not even Magneto would have - would have - " He broke off in frustration, downing more scotch. "She slept with him too, let him use her like some cheap hooker, and while she was carrying Christopher to boot! God, why? Why would she do that?"

"I do not know what she was thinking," Hank began after downing a generous amount of scotch himself. "I can - I can understand why she may have gone to someone to attempt to secure your release. She loved you greatly and she would never hesitate to sacrifice herself for you, Scott. But if she manipulated Rogue into - well, I do not understand that. I do not understand at all."

"Scott - " Hank reached a large hand across the table to rest it on his friend's forearm. "She was a wonderful woman, a good friend to me and a loving wife to you, for many years, for most of her life. Her behavior toward the end - it does not change who she was, the good she did for so many years. Do not remember her that way. Do not remember her as she was at the end."

Scott shook his head miserably. "She was just like she always had been when we were in Maine, you know? We both knew - she told me she'd only have a few days after Christopher was born, and she made that time so special, so wonderful. Those last few months were the best of my life with her, despite - despite all the horrible things that were going on in that settlement. When I came home to the cottage to her every night, it was like a different world. Yet all that time......." Scott's tears finally came. Hank's hand had never left Scott's forearm, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. "What am I going to do now, Hank? What am I going to do?"

Hank gave Scott a few moments to let some of the emotion spill out before answering. "You are going to raise the son you created with the woman you loved. You are going to cry yourself to sleep tonight, but in the morning you will look to the needs of the people of this settlement, as you have every day since you arrived. They need you, every bit as much as Christopher does. You will care for them, and for your son in a way that would make Jean and Professor Xavier and all of your friends proud of you. You are perhaps the strongest man I have ever known, my friend, and your strength will carry you through this."

"I do," Hank answered with more confidence than he felt at the moment. He would have to stay close to Scott now, he knew. He would speak with Bobby in the morning and enlist his help. For all the times that they had both leaned on Scott, and for all the faithful friendship he had blessed them with over the years, they owed it to him to support him now, in what was his darkest hour. They owed him at least that much.

That night, for the first time, Marie woke Logan with a nightmare. She hadn't had one since she'd arrived, although she'd warned Logan of them. When he finally saw one up close, he thought that 'nightmare' seemed an awfully quaint word for it.

She awoke with a shrill, blood-curdling scream that sounded like it had started at the bottom of her feet and had torn its way up through her body to her throat, eviscerating everything in its path along the way. Her claws popped and she sat upright in a flash. At that point, Logan was already moving from the chair.

Her agonized scream kept rolling - she didn't take a breath. Logan was at her side in less than two seconds. Up close, he could see that her face was strained and red. He could see throbbing veins in her neck and forehead. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and tears were spilling from them freely. She still hadn't taken a breath or quieted her scream in the least. "Marie, Marie wake up." He wasn't sure if he should touch her - she was covered, but he was willing to bet that an unexpected touch might just make the whole situation worse. "Marie!" He settled for pressing down on the mattress and jiggling the bed a little. Finally, her scream broke, then dissolved into sobs, and her eyes opened. "Marie, it's OK. You were having a nightmare. It's OK."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. You're OK, Marie, I'm right here with you and you're safe. You're OK." She raised a hand toward him, then saw her extended claws. She immediately retracted them, but cried harder. Logan frowned, then made a decision. "C'mere, darlin'. C'mere." He opened his arms and she flung herself into them. Resting her head on his t-shirt clad shoulder, she wound both arms around him and squeezed herself to him as tightly as possible. Logan felt the shaking and trembling that racked her small form. "Baby, it's OK. You're with me now. You're safe."

Logan began rubbing her back. He did it on instinct - he'd certainly never tried comforting someone in this way before; he'd rarely tried comforting anyone at all. Noting with some satisfaction that her crying had eased with his caresses, he kept them up and nuzzled the top of her head with his cheek. That produced even better results. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he found himself scooting into the bed and lying down with her in his arms. He pulled the covers over them, then resumed the stroking and nuzzling that was working to calm her. She was still gripping him tightly - without his healing power, he didn't doubt that there would be more than a few bruises lining his torso by now.

When the tears had stopped and her breathing was approaching normal again, he asked, "Do you wanna talk about it?" She shook her head vigorously against his chest. "OK. Do you - do you want me to getcha anythin'? Some water?"

Her words came in a whisper, as though saying them was somehow physically painful. "Hold me. Like this. Please, just for a little while? Let me - let me fall asleep with you here. I can feel that it's you, not anyone else. I can feel you right next to me and I know I'm safe. Please?"

His heart clenched at that. He had a sudden urge to kiss her silly and swear to her he'd kill anyone who so much as looked at her wrong. The words Gary had said about her - that she was just fourteen when it happened - came back to him and the urge to care for her and comfort her surged even stronger. Stray thoughts, thoughts that she should've been with him the whole time, that she belonged with him, began to surface as well. His mind buzzed with 'mine, mine, mine' and he wrapped both of his legs around hers for good measure. He would do as she asked, he would make sure she felt him all around her, make sure every part of her was touching him and was protected. "I gotcha," he summarized, in a husky voice.

When he awoke, it took him a moment to put his finger on what was wrong. Well, not wrong, exactly, just........off. Nothing was amiss in the cabin; the fire was waning, but that wasn't unusual. Marie was still pressed tightly to him - her grip had eased little with sleep - and their legs were tangled together. No, it wasn't anything about Marie, she was sleeping soundly, and they were both buried beneath the covers, him with one hand still at her back and one caressing her face. No, Marie was just fine, she was - wait a second, Logan thought. His eyes traveled to the hand cupping her upturned cheek. It was bare, and her skin was bare, but nothing was happening. Nothing at all.

Logan was pretty sure that something should've been happening. Marie warned him that her skin was still functional even when she was asleep or unconscious. She'd warned him several times. Yes, something should be happening but not a single thing was. Logan relaxed his fingers, letting them bounce over the contours of her cheek and jaw a bit. Still nothing. Marie sighed, shifting a little in her sleep. Her face turned toward his palm; she seemed to be seeking his touch. He flattened his palm against her cheek, giving her the caress she sought. Her lips spread into a smile and Logan let out an involuntary laugh of delight.

"Hey," she mumbled, her eyes blinking closed again. As she snuggled against him and tried to tell herself to wake up, it dawned on her. With a panicked yipe, she was up and shoving him away from her in the next second. "Logan! Be careful!"

"No need to," he said calmly. "Look." He reached out a bare hand to her face - the only uncovered part of her - very slowly. Her eyes went wide, but she didn't back away. When his flesh met hers and absolutely nothing happened, her mouth fell open in shock.

She gave him a look, but seemed to let it drop. "Something must have gone wrong when you touched me. I wonder - I wonder if my skin turned off somehow. I wonder if it's just you or if I - I could touch anyone now."

Logan didn't like the idea of her touching anyone, but he'd seen how her eyes lit up when she saw that she could touch him. "We'll call Hank. And Bobby. He's probably the safest to try it out on. You get Scooter's powers, you won't be able to control 'em, and you don't wanna have somebody you don't know in your head, even for a little while." Logan also meant - I don't want anyone I don't know touching you. "We'll call 'em in a little while. Sun's not up yet." Marie nodded. "C'mon. Let's go back to bed, huh?"

"Uh-huh. C'mere." He gestured for her to move back into his embrace and she complied with a sigh. "There we go." He made sure his stubbly chin was touching her forehead, wanting her to have constant touch now that it was available to her. He didn't see it, but she smiled at the contact, lips spread wide in a blissful smile. They were both soundly asleep again in less than a minute.

At an entirely much more reasonable hour of the morning, they tested Marie's newfound ability to touch. Hank arrived alone, and late, making excuses for Bobby's absence. He'd said he wasn't feeling well after last night, which was the truth, and he left out the parts about how Bobby had freaked out at the thought of getting anywhere near either Logan or Rogue and had adamantly refused to participate in the tests, which was the whole truth. Hank knew that it would only hurt Rogue and anger Logan, and neither reaction was what would help stabilize things, which was what they all needed - a little equilibrium after all that had happened. So, Hank made excuses and offered himself as a test subject. His lips were uncovered in fur, and he thought that a second of Rogue's touch wouldn't seriously harm him, so it seemed like a good solution. Plus, he felt reasonably sure his thoughts would be much easier than Bobby's to deal with at the moment. Rogue agreed, not minding some temporary blue fur and fangs.

Unfortunately, her skin still worked quite well on Hank. He fell to the floor but didn't quite lose consciousness and she spouted patches of fur that lingered for a few seconds, then vanished. Hank could tell she was disappointed. Frankly, though, he wasn't surprised. Something unusual had happened when Logan touched her, and her mutation seemed to have unpredictable internal effects at best. And, it was possible that Logan had been able to touch her since the transfer of his powers - he'd apparently scrupulously avoided touching her skin since then; this was the first 'accident' of its kind. He told all that to them both, then said he could do further testing, with other people, if Rogue wished. Logan answered in the negative for her, and she solemnly nodded her agreement. Hank took his leave, saying that they should contact him if anything else irregular happens and giving a pointed look to Rogue (and only Rogue) along with the offer to do further testing later if she changed her mind.

After he'd gone, there were several moments of silence between Logan and Marie. She seemed lost in her own thoughts and he seemed to be focusing intently on observing her. At length, she noticed his gaze, and she blushed a little at being the subject of such intense attention. "Hank's a really good guy."

"Yeah. I think Jules' mom was pretty good to big blue. She was a human teacher at the school. Xavier was integrating or some shit. She was probably Hank's first and only real girlfriend. Virus got her, I guess, and the kid's probably a connection to her, a reminder." Logan's eyes crinkled a bit. He'd wanted to have a conversation with Marie in the wake of the tests, but not about Hank. He wasn't quite sure how to broach the topic he was thinking of.

"Off? Like what?" That wasn't where he wanted to go either, exactly, but her words had piqued his interest. He didn't much care what people thought of him, Hank included, for the most part. He did care what people thought of him in relation to Marie, though.

"He thinks we're, you know, together. He wonders if you're, um, OK to me, and he kind of wants to talk to you about it but he thinks he doesn't know you well enough any more to know for sure if you'd kick him and Jules out if you got mad. He doesn't want to risk that." Now she was bright red, and looking at the floor. "Sorry. You know, I probably just shouldn't have said anything. I - "

He paced over to her and put his hands on both of her shoulders. She brought her head up, looking into his eyes. "I don't really give a shit what he thinks. 'Cept maybe 'bout kickin' him and the kid out. I wouldn't do that just 'cause I was pissed 'bout somethin', and he shouldn't worry 'bout it. And I don't want him thinkin' bad things're goin' on between us. Why dontcha say somethin' the next time you see him, huh?" He watched her fidget, uncertain how to respond. "Look, I know what people think, that we're sleepin' together. Let 'em think it. It's a little extra insurance that no one's gonna even think 'bout messin' with ya. Nobody fucks with what's mine." Finally, that hit a little closer to what he did want to talk about. It might not be too out of left field to interject some of what was really on his mind. "You're, ah, you're stayin' here for the duration, all right, Marie?" She *was* his, and, especially in light of the developments with her skin, he wanted to make sure she was beginning to understand that too.

"It's OK. And I think it'd be a lot better if we just shared the bed now." That surprised her, he could tell. He fought the urge to give her assurances he wouldn't lay a hand on her - he wouldn't, not yet, not if that's not what she wanted, but he wanted to know if that was her fear and he needed to hear it from her.

"OK," she answered slowly. "I guess the chair hasn't been too comfortable." Her words came with a smile that only held the barest hint of nervousness. Logan was encouraged by that, and it emboldened him to say what was on his mind.

"Sleepin' in bed with you is a helluva lot more comfortable." She blushed at that and he could sense her nervousness ratcheting up a bit. Before he could come up with something to ameliorate her anxiety, she spoke in a shy whisper.

"It's nice." The thought that she looked exactly sixteen at that moment flashed through his head. To his embarrassment, the thought that there was no need to wait until she was eighteen to pursue a relationship followed close on its heels. There were no laws except those of his own making here, and he had no moral problems with her age. Men had married women at sixteen and a hell of a lot younger than that for hundreds of years. No, it wasn't her age that gave him pause - it was the situation. She was essentially relying on him for everything - food, shelter, safety - and that gave him quite the unfair advantage. He was aware of that, and aware that it meant he had to proceed cautiously if he were to avoid unintentionally pressuring or manipulating her into a relationship.

He had few doubts that she would become his lover - the feeling that she was his was so strong in him that he thought that she must have some inkling that things are that way too, even if she hadn't realized it yet. It was really just a matter of time, and of making sure that things went well so that she wouldn't feel taken advantage of or have any regrets. These considerations were new to Logan, but dealing with them was somehow natural, as natural as his urges to protect and claim her. "Good. Look, whaddya wanna do today? I was thinkin' we'd just stay in, huh? Cold as hell out there. Unless you need somethin' from the storehouse - you outta anythin'?" She shook her head. "Then inside it is. I'm gonna put more coffee on." She nodded, and everything was OK, back to normal - except that he could touch her, except that she'd agreed to sleeping in the same bed as him, except that they were on their way to becoming lovers. He wondered how much of that Marie knew yet.

The next two weeks were mostly uneventful. Word of the death of a newcomer had made its way around the camp, and had caused a bit of a stir, but, when they got a break in the weather, Scott called a community meeting at the storehouse. He announced that yes, a newcomer had died after being brought to Logan's cabin upon his arrival. Scott didn't divulge any details, but he made it clear that the man's death was punishment for serving as a trustee in a mutant prison during the war and for crimes against a current settlement resident. Scott declined to address questions about how, exactly, the man had died. He only said that both he and Logan agreed that his punishment was appropriate. That seemed to settle the crowd - they may believe Logan would arbitrarily kill a man, but most of them knew Scott well enough to know he wouldn't condone that kind of punishment unless it was deserved.

The park, as usual, got an abundance of snow through early February, making for quiet days for most residents, Logan and Rogue included. They stayed in their cabin - and both of them now thought of it as 'their' cabin - for the most part, venturing down to the storehouse only once for supplies. Rogue loved the snow, though, and often went out to play in it a bit, successfully dragging Logan with her a time or two. She was happy, settled, and generally at ease with Logan, and he was very glad for that.

Today, though, Marie had been acting a little strangely all day, and Logan hadn't been able to figure out why. Now, as they got into bed, he was feeling at the end of his rope. Something had changed or something was wrong. He didn't know which, but he was determined to find out. As he slid beneath the thick pile of covers and lay beside her, he worked through how to approach the topic.

"Aw, shit, kid, I didn't know that was today, either thing. I didn't getcha a present." And he wasn't sure he would've thought to get one even if he had known it was her birthday, or Valentine's Day. Getting presents for people just wasn't the kind of thing that occurred to him.

"I was hoping you'd kiss me. You know, if you wanted to. I've never had a real kiss, and I thought - " When she glanced up, she saw the stark surprise on his face and it silenced her. "Sorry. It was just - just a thought." She rolled over, putting her back to him.

"It's OK," she said in a weepy voice, keeping herself turned away, "I c-can understand why you wouldn't want to. Just forget I asked, OK?" The tremulously hopeful note in her question jolted through Logan's own surging emotions. He scooted over to her and pressed himself solidly to the length of her back.

"You just surprised me, Marie. There's nothin' wrong here." Both strong arms wound around her and he pressed a kiss to the back of her head to reinforce the words even more. "I didn't think you would be ready for that just yet. I thought you'd probably wanna - wanna wait some before startin' things like that between us."

Logan pondered that for a moment, still holding her tight. "I wanna do more than kiss you just one time. I want us to be together." The words hung between them; now, Marie was the one who was surprised. "I'll kiss you now, and nothin' else until you say, if you want, but, Marie, I don't wanna have any misunderstandin' about where I wanna go with this. I know there's a lot to work out there, and we can take our time, but that's what I want."

"Really?" She twisted and he eased his hold on her to allow her to turn to face him. "I - I can say what and when we do, um, stuff?" Logan nodded. "And you'd like to do that, with me? Even though I've been - been with all those other men?"

He knew she was pretty much baring her soul to him, and that she was scared, so he strove mightily to ignore thoughts of Marie being hurt and the sharp anger they roused in him. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'm sayin'. You decide, it's all up to you. If you say no to somethin', then it's no. And yeah, Marie, I'd like to be with you. You're - we're compatible, huh? We get along good and we like one another and what you went through before don't have nothin' to do with that." He let his words sink in a bit. "Whaddya think?"

Logan brought a hand up to her face, caressing her in the first place he'd ever touched his bare skin to hers. "Yeah." Her eyes held his until their lips met. He kissed her very tenderly, very slowly. His lips pressed to hers, held them, then departed. Her eyes were closed when he pulled back. "Again?"

She opened her eyes and he saw incredible warmth there. "Again." This time, he kissed her more sensually, sucking on her lower lip for quite a long time, then changing the tilt of his head to give her slightly different kisses each time. Somewhere along the way, she'd rolled on to her back, and when Logan felt the urge to slide a knee between her legs, he knew it was time to stop. When they parted, he noticed with more than a little pride that she was breathless and that her eyes held a syrupy sensuality he'd never seen before.

"Nice?" he teased with a raised eyebrow. A playful shrug from her got her a gentle kiss to the forehead. "Nice," he repeated, in a more satisfied tone. She snuggled herself to him, signaling that she wanted to be held and sleep now. He complied, whispering, "Happy Birthday, kid. Happy Valentine's too."

"We'll get there in time, don't worry." Logan didn't sound entirely convinced of the words himself. He was currently driving through the mountain snow like a bat out of hell and he was visibly worried. The call from Scott had come over the radio just a few minutes earlier that blustery mid-March morning - some humans, armed, had entered the park and attacked the trio of cabins he shared with Hank and Bobby and the children. It was a scattered, frantic message, and the unmistakable sound of gunshots could be heard in the background. Logan told him he was on the way, but called for help from those living a little closer to Scott before leaving. His face was grim when he told Marie she was going with him. He wasn't sure if there were more humans on the way, and he wasn't about to let her out of his sight.

"Dammit, you dunno that! Just 'cause you heal when the claws come out it don't mean you can take a bullet. You just stay outta the line of fire, Marie. You just - they woulda hid the kids in one of the cabins, probably Scott's - you just find the kids and stay the hell put, got me?"

"I mean it, Marie!" She started a little at the fierceness of his words. "You - " They rounded the ridge that overlooked the former X-men's cabins, seeing all three of them down in front of the cabins, along with what looked like about two dozen human corpses. "Shit," Logan breathed, gunning the car down the hill, aiming it right for the cluster of people approaching a fallen Hank. "Duck down and hang on, kid." Marie did as instructed, and Logan pegged two of the men with the jeep before skidding to a stop. "Get out my side! Go, Go!" His door was closer to Hank's cabin, and he wanted Marie safely inside as soon as possible. Bobby was down, not moving, a few feet from Hank; Scott was down, clutching at his knee with one hand but still blasting at the humans with his other. His cabin was shot full of holes, and the way the men had fallen told Logan that Scott had probably tried to distract them - the kids were probably in Hank's cabin. Logan made those assessments in only seconds. "Go, Marie!"

She leapt out of the jeep after Logan, drawing some gunfire. Scott was beginning to tire and was clearly outnumbered - he hadn't been able to stay the humans' progress to Hank's cabin, and was now engaged by the half-dozen or so humans keeping him from focusing his attention elsewhere. Marie made it to Hank's cabin and inside, hesitating only a split-second as she passed a fallen, bleeding Hank. Logan turned his attention to the battle before him once she was in, unsheathing his claws and sporting a feral grin. One of the humans that had been heading for Hank and that had narrowly avoided Logan's jeep shot him from a few feet away, aiming for his chest with a small pistol. Logan turned on him, a look of unholy glee on his face, and pounced.

"Jules! Jules!" Inside the cabin, Marie frantically called for the children. She couldn't see them in the living room or kitchen. "Jules!" She rushed to the bedroom, kicking the door down when she found it locked. Still no children. "Jules! It's Rogue!"

"Yes, yes it's me!" She rushed toward the sound of the voice, now able to smell Jules' familiar scent as well. She wrenched the bathroom door off its hinges this time, desperate to find them. Jules' bright blue ears, blue eyes, and forehead peeked above the bathtub rim, greeting her. "Oh, thank God! Are you OK? Where's Christopher?" A second head, this time topped with strawberry blonde curls peeked above the rim. "Are you both OK?"

Jules gave her a terrified nod, just as she heard one of the cabin windows shatter. Realizing suddenly why Hank had hidden them here, ducked down behind the sturdy porcelain of the tub, she instructed them, "Stay put. Keep your heads down. Stay quiet." Another staccato breaking-glass sound reached them, and Marie turned toward it. She was torn between following Logan's instructions and helping him in the fight. She settled for trying to drag Hank into the cabin and out of the line of fire.

When she rushed to the door, she saw that the tide had turned. Logan was hurting, she could tell by the stiffness in his movements and the tension in his eyes, but he'd successfully disarmed and dismembered all but six or so of the humans. Five were engaged by Logan and the still-firing Scott, and one, thankfully one with a horrible sense of aim, was sniping at Hank. His missed shots were what had broken the cabin window.

Rogue nodded, thinking her options through. She could just make a dash for him and drag him back in, relying on the would-be sharp-shooter's lousy aim to protect them. She could run out and stay at Hank's side, shielding his body with hers. Despite Logan's words, she was pretty sure a bullet would do her less harm than Hank at the moment. While she was mulling that over, her eyes found a rifle lying a few feet away from Hank. She heard two screams, almost simultaneously, as Logan and Scott each put another of the humans down. Glancing back up at their erstwhile sniper, she saw him fidget, get ready to run. Anger flared in her at that, and a growl escaped her lips. Before she knew it, she was springing for the rifle, standing tall and aiming for the now-running sniper, then taking a shot. It was perfect; she'd hit him square in the back of the head as he ran through the cover of the forest. It was only when a raw, primal, triumphant roar escaped her throat that she realized she'd let Logan take over; the shot had been his.

"Yes, yes, they're both fine." Rogue surveyed his body. There was the nasty hip wound and a meaty wound in the opposite upper arm that Hank had mentioned. There were also bruises and some cuts, but nothing serious. Rogue maneuvered herself behind him, slowly lifting his torso up with one arm around his waist and one hooked beneath his good arm. "Hang on."

He groaned a bit, and Rogue thought he lost consciousness for a few seconds as she slowly dragged him inside and placed him on the rug in the middle of the living room. "Does this place have another doctor?" Hank shook his head no. Rogue frowned at that - Hank was not in good shape, and she didn't think he'd make it without heavy duty medical help. "Tell me what to do."

Hank swallowed hard. "My bag. In the bedroom closet. Check - check on Jules." Marie nodded, then hurried to fetch the black bag. Stopping by the bathroom to be sure both children were still securely in the tub, she rushed back to Hank's side.

"Cut - cut away the clothing around the wound. There should be a vial in the bag. Blue label. Anesthetic. Shoot it into my muscle, here." A blue finger fumbled over what was left of his right hip. Rogue quickly completed those tasks, and hoped she hadn't hurt Hank too much in the process. "Scalpel. Tweezers. Get the bullet out, and any - any bone fragments."

"OK, OK." She found the instruments and began poking about in Hank's wound as delicately as possible. After a while, after she'd found a few fragments, she was getting a feel for it. She was so absorbed in her task that she didn't notice Logan had entered, deposited Scott, and left again, until she had completed her search. "There. I think that's all of them. Hank - " Her quick glance to her patient revealed that he'd fallen unconscious. "Oh, shit!" She leaned over him, checking his breathing and heartbeat. Both were reasonably OK.

"Clean the wound. If there's nothin' in his bag you can tell for sure is antiseptic, then use hard liquor - should be some in the kitchen somewhere." Marie's eyes widened at that. "He's strong, he'll make it." With that, Logan departed.

"OK, OK," Marie mumbled. She found something labeled 'antibiotic' in Hank's bag, and decided to use that. She applied the salve liberally and deep into the wound, then made a quick check of Hank's other wound. It didn't look like the bullet had hit the bone in his arm; in fact, it looked like it had passed right through the muscle and flesh and come out the other side. She hoped that that was a good thing.

Logan swept back into the cabin, bearing four thick branches and a spool of rope. "OK. Take a look at Scooter. I'll stitch Hank up." Rogue hadn't even thought of closing the wound, and she cursed herself for it as she scrambled over to the unconscious Scott. Before she could ask, Logan provided. "Broken knee, shot up like Hank's hip. Shot in the side, but I don't think it went in, just glanced off the ribs. Cut to his shoulder - looks deep."