Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

Comments: First, a Proud Hoosier moment ;) When people think of my home state of Indiana, they don't usually think of beachfront, but the fact is that we do have Lake Michigan on our northern border, and a 15,000 acre state park that runs along a lot of that shoreline. The Indiana Dunes State Park has an incredible diversity of environments and flora and fauna - of course, this, combined with my latent Hoosier pride made me think - hey, there's a good spot for a Winter In. story. However, this one didn't quite get told over one season, and you'll see why as the story goes along ;) Hence, it is a 'year in' story. I'll also warn you that there are character deaths galore in this one - hey, it's the apocalypse, don't blame me ;) - so don't read if you're not looking for at least a little angst. Lastly, this is dedicated to Tiffany, who's nice enough to keep me fully stocked with bunnies and who was kind enough to give me some ideas when I got stuck on this one :) Oooh - one more thing: if you want to learn more about the fabulousness that is the Indiana Dunes, check the national parks site at http://www.nps.gov/indu/ - this educational moment brought to you by the letter 'q' and the number eight ;)

He lost her on one of her first missions. He'd been against her joining the team, but when she'd insisted, he relented, thinking he could watch over her no matter what. A tidal wave of well- trained covert ops troops, a few mistakes by the team that would've been minor in a lesser battle, and a huge, exploding building taught him that he was wrong. And that lesson came at a very high price, stealing away the only thing he'd ever valued, and far too soon. She was only twenty, after all. They'd never even been out drinking together yet.

They were never lovers, but Logan often thought that that terrible day finally made them so. He'd be the first to admit that he went a little mad when it happened. She was so badly burned, the explosion had been so powerful, that all Jean could offer him was a few scattered body parts that were in the approximate range of Marie's former proportions. He guarded those jealously, refusing to let even Jean touch them after she'd identified those parts as possibly what was left of Marie. He took meticulous care of her in death as he cursed himself for not having done in life. He washed the parts, cleaning them lovingly, shrouded them in white linen, and buried them on the mansion grounds, beneath a big maple tree that had been Marie's favorite. He marked the grave with flowers instead of a headstone and came to talk to her at least once a day. After her death, his sporadic trips north stopped completely; he didn't want to spend a day apart from her.

He also raided her room, taking all her things, over the protests of her former roommates, Kitty and Jubilee. To this day, Kitty swears that he would've seriously clawed them had they put up any more of a fight about it. In those early days, it was very bad; he's never denied Kitty's version of events. He wound up taking everything that had her in it - her bedding, her clothes, the few books and personal items she had, even her toiletries. They all now sat in his room, as though she were living with him there - her shampoo was in the shower, her toothbrush beside his, her clothes hung in the closet, and her shoes were under the bed. It wasn't enough.

After the early days, he sunk into a kind of dull insanity, if there is such a thing, preferring to leave his room only for missions, on which he usually seemed to be trying very hard to get himself killed. His teammates often thought that might be more merciful than going on like this, but they still prevented him from following Marie into the great beyond each time. Today was a non-mission day, at least so far, and it therefore found Logan spending the day in his room, with his reminders of Marie, from sunrise to sunset. The only break he took to reconnect with the outside world was his daily pilgrimage to the only part of it that now held any interest for him - the big maple tree.

Marie approached Westchester with more than a little trepidation. It had been more than a year, and she knew they thought her to be dead. The men who took her, the same men who'd treated her to a seven month, all-expenses-paid stay at a government lab much like the one she saw in Logan's nightmares, had made sure of that. They didn't turn out to be quite as smart as they thought themselves to be, though - giving her healing, super-strength, flight, and telepathy while simultaneously pissing her off severely was not a good plan, no matter what the level of security they imprisoned her with was. Eventually, the perfect weapon they tried so hard to craft her into emerged, and turned on her creators. She saw to it that they all were dead. She didn't know if their loved ones knew that; she didn't know if anyone even knew they existed in the first place, really. All she knew was that she had to get her head together before coming back to Westchester.

They did a number on her, that much was certain. She didn't like to think about it, and she definitely wasn't going to talk about it, not with anyone. If the Professor or Jean tried to pry it out of her head, well, she was powerful enough now to stop them, and probably to fry their brains quite thoroughly as a vengeful bonus.

Marie shook her head to clear the thought - she had spent nearly six months trying to remember that if she went back, she couldn't live in survival mode. She had to learn to live like a normal person again, not like a hunted animal. Her tormenters were dead, by her hand, and if there were more where they came from, well, Marie had gained enough confidence in her abilities to know that she wouldn't go down as easy as she had the first time. As for talking about it and 'recovery', she supposed that killing those who'd hurt you was just about as good a therapy as one could find. She was as 'recovered' as she was going to get.

She walked up the long driveway slowly. She'd gotten a ride from a crossroads trucker to the city centre and she reflected that her adventures in hitchhiking had gone much better this time. She'd picked 'safe' ones throughout, even if that one guy did have something of a frightening Elvis fixation. Walking the last few miles herself, she hefted the small bag containing all her worldly possessions a little higher up on her shoulder and wondered who had gotten what after she'd 'died'- had Kitty taken her leather boots? Had Jubes taken her denim jacket? What had Logan taken?

She thought of him often, and her first instinct upon escaping the lab was to contact Westchester, to ask him to come and get her. But she knew she was fragile, and some part of her even knew she was not completely in her right mind. She didn't want him to see her that way; she needed time. And, truth be told, she was afraid. She was afraid of his reaction, afraid of what he might think now that she'd been a guest at the lab too. He knew well what was done to prisoners, and she wondered if that would disgust him or make him pity her. She didn't care much for either option. The option she cared for least, though, was coming back to find he'd forgotten all about her, or perhaps even replaced her with either Jean or Jubes, depending on which way his affections for her really bent. She waited until she thought she was strong enough to face that possibility before coming back.

After rounding the corner and finding the yard empty, she paused, finding herself hesitant to just burst through the front door and announce her resurrection. She was never one for grand dramatic entrances, southern belle heritage to the contrary. She meandered around the side, heading for the spot she used to favor when she wanted to think. The big maple tree out back would afford her some quiet, and eventually, someone would happen upon her out there. Yes, that would be easier to deal with than a grand entrance.

Much to her surprise, she found her spot occupied, and it took her a moment to register that the interloper was Logan. He looked different somehow, older and tired, although she knew that would hardly be possible. He was kneeling, slumping forward a bit - perhaps it was just this odd posture, she told herself. But as she stole closer, she noticed that his hair was unkempt - even more than usual - and that his once meticulously groomed sideburns seemed haphazard. She felt a cold, heavy something settle in her stomach at that - while she hadn't expected him to be dancing on her grave, she hadn't expected her absence to deal him a lasting, serious blow of any kind. He was Logan, after all - strong, invincible, needing no one. She took a few more hesitant steps then stopped.

He jumped like a scared cat and stood, whirling on her and backing up to the tree trunk in the process. His eyes were wide with disbelief and a manic, unhinged happiness at the sight of her. "Hey," he greeted back with a grin and a surprising dose of nonchalance.

"I'm not dead," she repeated, taking a step toward him and smiling in an effort to both convince him and put him at ease. "It was all - the whole mission was a ruse to get me. They took me, the, uh, lab people. They had a plan. They had some poor girl there to - "

Logan hugged her to him, squeezing her within an inch of suffocation. He was kissing her hair and murmuring words she didn't understand. She tried to hug him back, and dropped her bag in order to do so. After several long minutes, he pushed her back a little to get a look at her. "Oh, Marie, I - I'm so glad you're alive. You're really alive." That last bit came out in an awed whisper and Marie finally let out a breath, satisfied she'd convinced him it was really her, not some hallucination. "Are you OK?"

She gave him a sad smile and a nod, and in the process, drew his attention to the jingling sound in the vicinity of her neck. Marie didn't follow his gaze, but she anticipated his careful lifting of the metal chain and even his soft growl at what he found at the end of it.

She'd thought long and hard about whether to keep the tags they gave her. They were a lot like Logan's and the memory of his, and how he'd gotten them, had spurred her on once she'd gotten free and had to decide whether her captors would live or die. Wholesale slaughter may have given her pause when done solely on her own behalf, but when done on Logan's behalf as well - well, there were far fewer qualms and a great deal many more corpses. When she was finished, she just never took the tags off. It wasn't that she liked her own much better than Logan liked his - but they were a reminder, a reminder that she'd survived it, that she'd fought them and won. They were a reminder that she was more than 'Rogue 874-906-82,' no matter how hard they'd tried to see to it that she wasn't.

"No, hey, it's OK. You didn't know. You thought I was dead. Don't - don't blame yourself. I understand, it's OK." If she had anticipated him being grievously upset over anything it would've been this - not keeping his promise to take care of her. She knew how seriously he took it, and she wanted to be quick to reassure him. "It's OK."

"Oh, Marie........" He was stroking her hair again, and gazing at her with unfathomable joy and gratitude and a solemn concern for her permeating it all. She smiled back before she knew it - he'd always had that effect on her; she never had been able to refrain from enjoying his attentions or affections, no matter how serious the situation. "Baby, I missed ya so much. I - I missed ya." He crushed her to him again, and something told Marie that this time he would not be letting go. She let herself sink into his embrace, just for a moment. During her captivity, she'd imagined him holding her, just like this, many times. When it got bad, when it got truly horrible, she'd try to think of the times when they were together, try to focus on how happy he'd made her. It helped her hang on to her sanity, and now, having him hold her like this in reality was getting to be a bit overwhelming, if pleasantly so. She let herself indulge in it a just moment more.

"Sugar, I can walk just fine," she gently replied. Logan frowned, but settled for carrying her bag, and locking her to his side by putting a strong arm around her shoulders. As they made their way back to the mansion, Marie tried to regain a bit of her composure.

After saying her hellos, riding out everyone's shock, and giving the minimal possible explanation for her return from the underworld, Marie made her excuses and followed Logan upstairs. He took hold of her gloved hand and led her to his room. Wordlessly, he guided her to his bed, and sat her down on it, then dropped her bag and joined her. By that time, Marie's eye had already caught a few mementos from her former room on Logan's night stand.

"I have all your stuff," Logan corrected solemnly, turning a little to face her. Before she could really process that, much less react to it, he continued, "Look, Marie, there are some things I gotta tell ya, things I told myself I would - if - if I ever got the chance, somehow. I know it sounds stupid, but just hear me out, OK?" Marie nodded. Logan took a deep breath and continued. "I love you. A lot." Marie was surprised, and it showed. It was clear from the way he'd said it that he meant it differently than best-friend love or little-sister love. "And I failed you. I failed you when you needed me most. I wantcha to know that I know that - I *know* it, and I'm not gonna ever forget it." Marie wanted to form some words to reassure him, something to blunt his obvious pain, but nothing came; surprise was still predominant. "I got a second chance with you, and there's no way in hell I'm gonna waste that second chance. I will take care of you - and *right* this time - for every second of the rest of your life and mine. Period. That's how it's gonna be."

"I'm just gonna touch you, just your face, all right, Marie? I'm gonna grab some gloves." His deliberation and care reminded her that even though she hadn't spoken about the details of what she'd suffered, he was well aware of them. It also reminded her of something else.

She'd learned to control her mutation while she was in captivity. It had been a hard lesson, but it had been one her captors went to great lengths to teach her. She wasn't planning on telling anyone, though, not even Logan. In her recent experience, touch had proved nothing but unpleasant. Her friends, although well-intentioned, wouldn't understand why she'd not want to touch them now that she could, even if she were inclined to give a detailed explanation of her reasons. And, while she trusted Logan not to hurt her with a touch, she didn't trust herself not to freak out even if his touches were warming and welcome. The whole idea just made her stomach churn and her mind race. But now, looking into his hazel eyes, seeing his unguarded joy at having her back, she couldn't quite bring herself to hide it from him. Remembering his words and promise to take care of her every second, she steadied herself and made the words come out.

"You don't need gloves." It came out in a choked voice and she could feel her own heart beating faster and faster, but she summoned the rest of the words. "I can control my skin. It's safe. I - I don't really want anyone else to know, OK? But it's safe."

It felt good, very good. Marie kept her eyes on his as she willed herself to relax. With every minute movement of his fingers, he seemed to try to be communicating to her his affection, and asking for her trust, for that second chance. Slowly, after he'd covered the entire surface of her scalp, his fingers stilled and he removed his hands. Scooting closer to her on the bed, he incrementally leaned forward until his lips met her forehead. They both gave out a sigh at the contact.

He kissed her, softly. He kissed her in that spot three times, then moved over one kiss-width to minister to another small patch of her skin. He went on that way, for the better part of an hour, kissing her face, covering every millimeter in long, warm, lingering kisses. He saved her lips for last, chastely brushing them with his own. Marie didn't seek his lips for a kiss after he withdrew, but she did nuzzle her nose to his, and Logan watched with fascinated joy as her lush lips curved into a small smile.

Before Marie knew it, he'd laid her back on the bed and was leisurely removing her clothes. He left her tank top and panties on, running his hands over her exposed skin and over her covered belly and back. As he did it, Marie found herself relaxing, and eventually drifting into sleep. Logan kept watch over her, and kept caressing her. There was no way he was about to stop touching her. For the first time in a long time, he didn't have to chase her through dreams or fantasies to see her, to have a moment in her presence. She was here, in his bed.

It felt a lot like a miracle and a kick in the gut all wrapped up into one - he had her back, yes, but he'd meant what he'd said - it was proof that he'd failed her in the worst possible way, even worse than he'd thought. They had her - *them* - and all the while he'd been sitting back at Westchester, mooning over her and kneeling at the grave of some stranger. How could he have not known she was alive? He chastised himself for the thousandth time since he'd caught sight of her out by the tree. Do better, Logan, he instructed himself solemnly, you have to do better this time.

Marie awoke to entirely pleasant surroundings - soft bed, warm Logan pressed tightly to her back. It wasn't quite dawn yet, but birds could be heard singing outside the window and a soft, golden glow was beginning to creep across the room. Marie took a moment or two to enjoy it before wriggling herself out of Logan's arms.

He stirred immediately, and tightened his hold on her. "It's OK," she soothed. "I just have to go to the bathroom." It took a few more seconds for her words to register with him, but he did finally let her go. Still, sharp hazel eyes followed her all the way to the bathroom, up until she closed the door.

While inside, she was reminded that it had been a few days since her last shower, and the thought of warm water cascading over her body was a welcome one. She thought she'd better tell Logan before just hopping in, and that she probably should find some clothes to wear when she got out. Flushing, and washing her hands, she basked in the familiar rituals a bit - it had been a while since she had bathroom facilities available to her with any regularity. On the road it was catch-as-catch-can, and often without the luxury of a real toilet or sink. Marie didn't think she'd ever learn to like port-a-potties, no matter how often her life contrived to make her use one.

She opened the door to find Logan right outside it. He was still looking at her as though she may disappear any moment. She tried to smile but his concerned expression didn't waver. "Everything's OK," she reassured, resting her hands on his arms and gently scooting him out of the way. "I'm going to look for some clothes. I was thinking of taking a shower. You don't mind me borrowing some of yours, do you?"

"All of yours are in there," Logan replied, hovering close behind her as she opened the closet door. She soon saw that he was right. Her things were neatly hung in one half of the closet, his in the other. Something about that affected her deeply. "Underwear is in the dresser." She glanced over her shoulder with a thankful smile as she selected a sweater and some black jeans. Just before she shut the closet door, a flash of something colorful amidst the black leather pieces on Logan's side caught her attention.

She hefted her clothing over one arm and peered in at his hanging uniform jacket, then opened its lapel to investigate further. What she saw made her gasp. It was a picture of her, or rather, part of what had once been a picture of her and Jubilee with their arms flung around one another on graduation day. Logan had saved only the half with her in it, and had apparently taped it to the inside of his battle jacket. Right over where his heart would be. "Oh, Logan¼."

"I thought 'bout you every day," he intoned, coming up to encircle her waist with his strong arms. "Every minute of every day. I wanted you with me when I fought. Just in case - in case that was the day, you know? The day I'd finally get to see you again."

"I wish I'd known¼¼¼¼..oh, God, I wish I'd known. I would've come back sooner," Marie whispered with obvious emotion. The picture, his words - they'd somehow finally brought it home to her that he really had missed her, that he really was suffering without her.

"Whaddya mean, sooner?" Marie realized with a start that she hadn't explained the whole getting-her-head-together-for-six-months part of her story. He wouldn't like hearing it, that much she knew now for certain, but she also knew that he wouldn't drop it and that she owed him the truth. She turned in his arms to face him as she prepared to tell him.

"I'm sorry," she pled, beginning to get more than a little upset now herself. But her emotions were equal parts regret and indignance. She *had* needed time, and Logan of all people should realize that no one goes through something like they had and pops out sane and reasonably together on day one. She needed to take care of herself, and she didn't want to feel guilty about giving herself some of what she needed after all she'd suffered. Moreover, she *hadn't* realized how badly he'd taken it, and why would she? Before she'd left, she knew he cared for her, but all this - well, suffice to say that she had no clue about the true nature and depth of his feelings, largely because he hadn't given her any. He'd been watchful, protective, but that's it. "I didn't realize. And I was - I wasn't - I needed time, Logan."

"Time," Logan repeated bitterly. "I was starin' down nothin' but day after day without ya and you -" Hearing the anger and bitterness in his tone, Marie wrestled herself out of his grasp, cast her eyes to the floor and turned away from him. She took a few halting steps toward the open bathroom door, but she paused, willing herself not to flee inside and close the door behind her. That wouldn't make things any better. Logan seemed to catch himself a bit at that, and he took several deep breaths to try to calm himself before speaking. "I'm sorry. I know I - I dunno what you went through, what you needed, 'cause I wasn't there to protect you. That's my fault, and I know it. I just - it hurt, Marie. It hurt like hell not to have ya with me, to think - to *know* - that I letcha die. I couldn't take it. I - I dunno what else to tell you. I didn't mean to piss you off. But it hurt like hell not havin' ya with me."

"Marie," he interrupted, once again embracing her from behind, but with much more gentleness and caution this time. "I was. I was outta my goddamn mind, all right? I almost killed Jubes for sayin' I couldn't have your shoes, for sayin' she wanted to keep one pair. I lost it. I don't - I don't blame you for not knowin' that," Marie could tell that he'd ground those last few words out, but she could also tell they were the truth. "And I know, before, I didn't tell you I loved you, so maybe you really didn't know, but - "

"Yeah." Logan began swaying with her, just minutely, but it was having the intended affect of comforting her. "If we're gonna be together, you're gonna give to me, and vice versa. That's how it should be. But before that, you deserved some time where you just took things - protection, safety, havin' somethin' and someone to hang on to in this world. I'm just sorry all ya got was me, and that I did such a piss poor job of givin' ya those things. But you needed those things, you deserved some time for that. I was waitin'."

"Mmm-hmm. For you to turn twenty-one. I had it all planned out." Logan let out a low chuckle. "I was gonna take you out somewhere nice, you know, a place with good rare steaks and twelve year old scotch. I was gonna take you out and ask if you wanted to start a relationship - those were the words I settled on, 'start a relationship.' Heh. I was even gonna give you a whole speech, tell you all 'bout how I'd loved ya since I laid eyes on ya. I have, you know."

"You sure?" Marie nodded and gave him a teary half-smile. "Good," he purred, and began running his hands up and down her back. "But I wantcha to - I still want it to be one way for a while, OK? I just wantcha to take from me whatcha need for now. Don't worry 'bout me. I'll try not to be a jerk like that again, huh?"

"All I need is to have ya back, and I got that. I got that, baby." He hugged her close, and she found herself burying her head in his shoulder and letting him hold her for quite a while. He murmured apologies and reassurances to her, and she let herself believe them. For the first time since she left the lab, she felt like she could exhale, like she could relax.

Marie's relative calm and contentment lasted through her shower and through getting dressed, but that was all the reprieve that the universe was willing to grant her. Discord, in the form of a mental summons from the Professor, reared its ugly head as soon as she'd slipped her second sock on. Logan gave her an unreadable look and told her to stay put. Although the Professor had called her too, she wasn't surprised that Logan would try to protect her from a mission, especially one that would prompt the amount of tension she'd felt in the Professor's mental call. She was a little surprised, however, by the fact that Logan didn't seem to be going anywhere either.

"I mean it. You stay here. And I stay with you. What if it's some trick, some plan to get you back, huh?" That silenced Marie's protests. She had no desire to repeat her stay at the lab. Logan noticed the fear in her scent kick up several notches, and then watched as she willed it back down. He was proud of her in that moment.

"Then she shall remain here." Marie could feel Charles losing his patience and she ventured a light scan of his mind while he was distracted. She saw images of people bleeding through the nose and mouth and ears - apparently hemorrhaging from the inside out. She started at the grotesque vision, and dropped the scan. The images had been frightening enough, but the fact that they were also familiar filled her with an icy dread. Marie mentally searched back in her memory for what she knew about the disease as she cast her gaze on Charles. The Professor showed no sign that he'd noticed what she'd done. The thought that she was even better than her captors ever hoped for flitted across her mind before she could suppress it.

"It's real. I've seen it." Marie wasn't inclined to explain the details of her captivity, but they needed to know what they were up against. "They talked about it a lot in the facility I was held in. They tested it on mutants there, lots of them. Almost all of them died. Internal bleeding - it does something, I don't remember what, but it makes your blood stop clotting or something. You just bleed and bleed until you die. There's no cure."

This time, Marie didn't try to hide her own derision. "It killed the humans too." She paused, let her words sink in, and enjoyed the plainly stupefied look on Jean's face a little more than she should've before continuing. "They died slower - maybe three or four days instead of one or two. But it killed a lot of the human lab workers, dozens, before they got it contained."

"I don't know. All I know is that nearly everyone in the lab died. Those who didn't die - me and one other mutant, two human workers - they put us through decontamination over and over. I was the only one who came up totally clean on the blood test at the end of it all, so they kept me and killed the others."

"How. Many. Months?" Jean asked, the veil of politeness now entirely gone. Marie thought a moment before answering, did some mental calculations, and tried to approximate as best she could to account for the days she'd spent unconscious. Her cellmate had come down with it, eventually, and he'd gotten there about the same time she had. It had to have been at least, let's see - one, two, three - "Rogue!"

"Four months?" Jean mimicked. "An airborne virus could spread worldwide in almost that time - we could - we could be facing universal exposure." Jean's eyebrows pinched, she was completely still for a moment, and then she began shaking her head. "No. No. I just can't believe it. It can't be Legacy, it can't."

"We must determine for certain what it is," Charles intoned. Scott nodded, and headed off, followed by Storm. Jean gave Logan one last long, measuring look, then left as well. "Logan, we would like to have you with us, but I cannot force you to go. I can tell you that if you refuse to join us now, you should consider yourself expelled from the team and from this mansion. Lives are at stake, Logan, and not just Marie's."

"It's Legacy, Marie. You know it in your gut and so do I. I remember - well, not much, but I remember 'em talkin' 'bout some 'superbug' when they had me. If you're right, if it's Legacy, it's already all over. Nothin' anybody does now is gonna make a difference."

"She was right, wasn't she? It's Legacy." Scott queried the team doctor, coincidentally also his wife, as they sped back toward Westchester with a few of the dead and dying in tow. Jean had been quiet, terse all the way through the mission. Scott knew that they were facing a grave threat, but it was unusual for Jean to go so quiet, even in the most dire of circumstances. Maybe, he thought, getting her to say it out loud, to admit it, would break the damn.

"I have to study some blood and tissue samples in the lab to assess what kind of threat it presents. We obviously don't have a sample of Legacy, if it really exists, to match up against, but we can figure out what we are dealing with here. All we know for certain is that it's serious. Very serious."

"You don't know," Jean bit out, frowning. "They had a lifetime to devise this disease, Scott, a whole generation, ever since the emergence of the mutant phenomenon. They had years to study it, tweak it, build it into exactly whatever they wanted. All those years to hide it's secrets - Scott, we don't know how long we have - days, weeks, maybe if we're lucky a month to figure it out."

Scott sobered at that. He knew they'd probably been exposed, despite the masks and other precautions they'd taken. Hell, they could've been exposed before the blackbird ever even landed at the scene. They weren't showing any symptoms, but if Rogue was right, they may not for a long time. Scott was worried, of course, but he'd meant what he said - he did have confidence that Jean and the Professor would resolve the problem, even if the odds were long. They always had in the past. But something about the way Jean spoke now, something about that caught in him. She didn't seem so confident this time. "Jean, what's wrong? I mean - what's really wrong?"

This was only the second time she'd woken with him but she was somehow not surprised to find his lips on hers and his hands on her body. Marie relaxed, opening her mouth to his, letting him in. But as their kiss deepened, his caresses became more insistent, and that did surprise her. "Mmm.......Logan?"

Marie bit back a question about whether it was really *her* that needed something sexual right now, and she willed herself to relax as Logan had asked. He wouldn't hurt her. He wouldn't. Yet, somehow, that knowledge wasn't helping as much as it should've. She felt his large hands roam her breasts, fingers skimming beneath her tank top and eventually delving completely inside. She took a sharp breath in when his fingers grazed her nipple. "Logan, stop. Stop."

Logan slowly shook his head, once. "What's gonna go wrong? What're you worried 'bout happenin'?" Marie huffed in frustration, and Logan gave her a gentle squeeze. "You're safe with me. You know I won't hurt ya. I know you know that, Marie. Lemme love you."

"I don't think so," Logan gently argued back. "I think you needta let yourself be touched and let it feel good. I think you've already been way too damn long without that. The longer you go without it, the more usedta that you'll get. I don't want that for you. I won't hurt ya, Marie, and you know that. What else are you worried 'bout, baby? Tell me."

She took a focused, deep breath and blew it out. "I don't know. I guess I'm worried that - that - I don't know. I'm just worried. Do I have to have a specific reason?" She fidgeted, but he pressed his body to the length of hers, cutting off any potential escape route. Marie huffed in frustration.

Logan's eyes found hers, and Marie could tell that he was considering her words, as if deciding whether to tell her what they'd prompted in his own mind. After a few moments, he spoke slowly and in a deliberately even tone. "I think you're worried that you might freak out, maybe you're worried that you won't know what to do if it does feel good. Maybe you're worried 'bout *wantin'* to enjoy it, 'bout wantin' to feel good touches." Marie's eyes widened at his correct guesses; he'd articulated precisely something she couldn't have. Then again, she reflected, I shouldn't be surprised - he's the one person in the world who's been through it too, and who understands me the best. Logan went on in the smoothest and softest tone she'd ever heard him use. "Darlin', I wantcha to enjoy bein' touched. I wantcha to feel loved when I touch ya. It's OK to freak out, it's OK to get off on it, whatever you need is gonna be OK. Baby, lemme touch ya."

"Get up." Logan's gruff, strained voice pulled Marie out of a deep sleep. "Put these on." She blearily sat up, still not quite with it. "C'mon, Marie. We gotta get the hell outta here." Off in the distance, but definitely close enough to be on mansion grounds, a 'boom' sounded, then another. Those sounds were followed by gunfire and it finally registered with Marie that they were under attack. She scrambled to put on the clothes Logan had flung at her and her eyes searched the dark room desperately for him. She knew enough to know she couldn't turn on a light.

"You didn't lead 'em here, Marie, Scooter probably did. Landin' in the middle of the outbreak in a big-ass jet wasn't subtle. Come on, let's go." He tugged at her and she stumbled after him in the dark, still trying to marshal some argument to stay and help out. They'd made it to the lower level and were headed for the garage when Marie finally gathered her thoughts. Unfortunately, her new train of thought was interrupted when they encountered Scott and Jean in the hallway.

"No." Scott's shoulders slumped, apparently in defeat, but then his head raised and his eyes behind the visor seemed to lock on Marie's. Instinctively, she knew what he was asking. She stretched out a bare hand, just her fingertip, really, and touched Jean's skin.

She fell like a stone and Marie scrambled to break her fall and ease her to the floor. Scott came over to her, knelt beside her, and kissed her cheek. "Get her out of here. Please, Marie, promise me you'll take care of her and that baby. I saved your life once. Promise me."

Marie reflected that Scott was ever the tactician, and a damn good one. He knew Logan wouldn't put Scott's wife and child above Marie, but getting Marie to take care of Jean would insure that Logan did as well. With a surge of bittersweet affection for him, she agreed, "I promise. Let's go." Without effort, Marie hefted Jean over her shoulder and took Logan's hand in hers. Just before they turned the corner to the garage, Marie took one last look back at Scott. Something told her it wasn't the last time she'd see him, despite the circumstances. She hoped her gut feeling was right.

The next five minutes brought Bobby, Jubes, and Kitty to the garage. Logan took the largest SUV he could find, a GMC Yukon, and packed them all in. Using his senses to navigate without benefit of headlights, he slowly crept out of the garage.

The fight was at the main drive - there was no way they'd make it through to the road, and if Marie had had any doubts about staying on to fight, the tank and three helicopters she saw hovering over the mansion quelled those. She ducked low in the middle seat, covering Jean's body with her own. She hoped that her friends were doing the same in the back. She tried not to think about the inevitability of Logan taking a few bullets as he drove up front.

Logan turned away from the battle and took off through the woods, probably, Marie thought, hoping to make it around the lake and to the train tracks. They made a few hundred yards before one of the helicopters, catching a glint of the metal on the SUV in the moonlight, noticed and made after them. "Shit," Logan swore, barely audible. He sped for a thicket of trees, hoping to lose them somewhere along the way. No luck. A zig-zag course hadn't helped either. They were still overhead.

Marie wondered why they weren't shooting at them, and the horrible realization that these troops wanted to take at least some of them alive settled in. Jean stirred beneath her. Marie tried reaching out with her mind to Jean's, but couldn't feel anything coherent. She planted a suggestion, lulling Jean to sleep, and hoped that would work. However things turned out, Marie thought it best that Jean be out for them.

They emerged onto the train tracks, and Logan cursed again at the helicopter still following them. Marie ventured popping her head up and leaning in to the front seat. "They can just wait until we run out of gas. They're not going away." Logan didn't answer and didn't take his eyes from the small service road ahead of him. "Stop the car. I can - I can fly, Logan. I can get out and take that helicopter down."

Marie wanted to say no, that she'd do no such thing, but she knew that would be futile. "OK." Logan grunted, and turned to face forward again. Marie slumped back, and glanced to the back seat. "You guys ready?" She got three nervous nods. "Just stay in here, OK? Let - let them come to you." Mentally, Marie added that she was going to fight hard to try to prevent that from happening. "Look out for Jean."

They rolled to a slow stop, and watched the helicopter ease itself down in front of the Yukon. Four men emerged from the 'copter - all covered in black head to toe, including ski masks, and carrying what looked like semi-automatic pistols. Marie shivered at that - it brought back entirely too many bad memories. The leader motioned for the men to stop a few feet from the car, and addressed them. "Come out, and you will not be harmed." Logan began a low, grumbling growl. "Come out, now, or we will begin firing on the vehicle."

Logan turned over his shoulder and gave Marie a look that burned through her. "I love you. I'm gonna do better this time." Before she could respond, he flung the door open and exited. The men briefly conferred, and she thought she heard one of them say 'healer' before they promptly opened fire.

Logan extended the claws and lunged for them anyway, his body absorbing a hail of metal. Marie sat frozen for a moment, then bolted out after him. He'd decapitated his first target by then, and some part of Marie's took pride in that even as she rushed the others and felt the first sting of bullets penetrating her flesh.

"Marie!" It hadn't been Logan - he was occupied with his second soon-to-be victim and had his back to her. He'd fallen to his knees, weakened from the gunfire, but that didn't prevent him from hacking the man's legs off at mid-thigh, even as he emptied his clip into Logan's skull. The bullets made a made a clink-clink noise as they ricocheted off his metal-enhanced cranium, distracting Marie momentarily as she reached the third man.

As soon as she grabbed him, it felt like slow motion. She reached for his neck, then snapped it with ease, letting him see the wide, maniacal grin on her face as she did it. Number four was running back toward the helicopter by now, and he'd actually almost made it, but Marie's flight was quicker. She grabbed him from behind and twisted him at the middle, neatly snapping his spine. That didn't kill him, but it had paralyzed him, and that pleased Marie. Slowly, deliberately, she stalked over to the pilot, who was frantically firing up the helicopter to take off. He drew a pistol and fired once, then twice, his fear snowballing as Marie's gleeful grin and bright eyes drew closer.

She grabbed him by the throat, and flung him from the helicopter, dislodging the pistol from his grasp as she did. As he skidded to a stop on he ground a few feet away, she took her time. Like a cat playing with its prey, she wanted to savor the kill.

Finally, whoever had been calling to her reached through. Marie heard it, and for the first time registered it, breaking the touch, then turning toward the frantic sound. It had been Bobby. He was panting and heaving, and bloody in spots - what had happened?

Bobby had taken two stray bullets when he'd gotten out to join in the fight; Kitty was tending to his wounds in the middle seat. Jubes, unfortunately, had taken the one bullet that penetrated the SUV. It struck her right between the eyes; she'd been killed instantly. In fact, it had taken them a moment to realize she'd been hit - she was half-sitting up in the back, eyes open, face expressionless. Marie had an intense burst of tears at that - one that lasted less than a minute, but was fierce. She got herself together, though, and tended to Logan as best she could, then put him beside her in the front seat as she started up the SUV. They needed to get some distance between themselves and the fight before she'd be able to stop and dig the bullets out of both of them.

Jean stirred at the movement of the car, finally waking. "Scott?" she asked, propping herself up a bit. No one replied, but Kitty moved to help her sit upright; she'd lain Jubes down in the back seat, and she and Bobby had hopped into the middle with Jean. "What's going on?"

"That's not going to happen," Marie gently argued. "We've got to make some time headed west. According to the men who were after us, they're focusing on the eastern seaboard - that's where the first outbreak of Legacy symptoms surfaced. If we head west, we'll have a chance of avoiding them."

"I'm not going west! I'm going back for Scott!" Marie didn't reply. "Dammit, I said stop this car!" Nothing. "Rogue! I told you to stop the car! Let me out!" Still nothing. Jean grabbed at her shoulder a little more roughly, eliciting a sidelong glance and a growl from Logan. "Rogue!"

Jean made no move to do so. "I can't believe you're doing this. You're not going to get away with this." Marie felt, not unexpectedly, the touch of Jean's mind against her own. As powerfully as she could, Marie pushed back against it. "Aaaah!" Jean gripped her temples and fell back to the seat.

They made Ohio on the remainder of the their tank of gas, but just barely. Marie chose a small Youngstown gas station to refill and regroup. She changed out of her bloody clothes before exiting the car, and Kitty did the same. Logan seemed to be recovering well, but wasn't still well enough to drive. That was fine with Marie; it gave her something to think about other than Jean.

The older woman had patched Bobby up then proceeded to sulk for the rest of the drive. Marie'd instructed Bobby to keep an eye on her, but she doubted that either Logan or Bobby could stop her if she decided to bolt. Marie wanted to keep her promise to Scott, to take care of Jean and his unborn child, but the difficulty of keeping a hostile Jean where she didn't want to be was beginning to hit home with Marie. She couldn't watch her every second of every day, and she couldn't keep using her skin to knock Jean out - who knew what that could do to the baby? Marie sighed and rubbed at her temples as she paid for the gas Kitty was pumping and some foodstuffs and medical supplies she'd gathered from the convenience store. She didn't look forward to having the bullets dug out of her, but it had to be done, for both her and Logan, and the sooner the better. She only hoped Jean would still be there to help them when she came out of the store.

Truth be told, she didn't understand why Jean was so hell-bent on going back to New York for Scott. You'd think that she'd put the safety and well-being of her child above everything else. Maybe she thought that she was destined to die at the hands of Legacy and that she wanted to spend her final days with Scott, Marie thought. Maybe she really did put Scott's well-being above her own and her child's. For all Marie knew, those could be the reasons. Marie reflected with a bitterness she felt a little guilty about that she'd never understood Jean very well.

They'd never been friendly when she'd been living at the mansion. Jean seemed somehow resentful of her, and Marie could never figure out why. She guessed that it had something to do with Logan, judging by the way Jean's cool hostility would flare whenever she spent time with him, but she couldn't make sense of that. Logan had made his interest in Jean plain, and she'd rebuffed him on more than one occasion. Not that Marie blamed her - she had Scott, who anyone would love, and Logan's interest, despite his occasional flowery flirting, didn't extend beyond the sexual. No, Marie understood why Jean wouldn't sacrifice her relationship with Scott for a roll in the hay with Logan. But why was she still resentful of Logan's attention being directed at Marie, then?

And why was she so hostile toward her after she'd come back? It was as though Jean's temper had worsened while Marie had been 'dead'. Then again, Logan's attention and interest in Marie had only intensified when he'd thought her dead; maybe that was it. In any case, Marie thought, I have to find a way to deal with her now, to make her see the reason in staying with us. She paid the cashier, and headed back to the SUV, at least a little relieved to see a shock of red hair still visible through the window.

They made their way another 300 miles or so west before stopping again. They'd taken the more low-key US routes instead of the interstates, and had been making good time. However, Kitty's occasional coughing had worsened, and Jean was concerned enough about it to suggest that Marie pull over so that she could give Kitty a good once-over. Logan seconded that recommendation, wanting to relieve Marie of the driving duties now that he was feeling better. They pulled over in a small Indiana town, in the town park.

As Marie followed the signs reading 'Picnic Area,' she was surprised to see a beach emerge around the bend. She hadn't been though Indiana on her aborted trek to Alaska, or on her way back to Westchester, but she'd always pictured it as flat prairie and farmland, and what she'd seen of it on the drive so far hadn't conflicted with those expectations. Reaching back for distant memories of her geography class, she remembered that Lake Michigan touched here; it suddenly made a lot more sense of this little town being called 'Michigan City' even though it was in Indiana. Still musing on the lake, she brought the car around to a secluded spot, at the edge of the park.

Marie nodded. The radio had been in all-news mode, on every station, since there was a news conference at the White House this morning, confirming that there was an outbreak of a 'biological threat' and that thousands in the greater New York and DC areas were affected. 'Affected,' Marie thought, is a quaint word for it - they were all dead, or dying, at the moment. One reporter asked the Press Secretary if it was unleashed by mutants. He didn't answer, one way or another. That wouldn't help calm things. "It is. I think you're right - west."

"Anything but me. I get it, sugar, I do," Marie soothed. "But I care about you, and Bobby, and Kitty, and Jean. And Jubes." Her voice hitched, and her eyes couldn't hold his anymore. She could feel his discomfort, and she took a guess as to what some of it might be about. "You did do better this time, you know. You saved us all. I'm still with you, still alive."

"Don't ever do anythin' like that again, Marie," he said quietly, his tone equal parts careful warning and tamped-down fear. "If you really care 'bout me, if you really love me like you say, then you gotta make sure the one thing I can't live without stays safe. That's you. Please, Marie. Promise me. I wantcha to promise me that."

Before Logan could respond, Jean emerged from the SUV, looking grave. "We've got a problem," she said softly. "Kitty's infected. She's got it." Marie's lips pressed together in a thin white line. "She's coughing up blood. If we can - if there's any way to get some pharmaceuticals, then I can make her more comfortable, but there's not much I can do to stop the progression of the disease."

"How would you be holding up?" Jean turned her back on them, and went back inside the car. Marie looked to Logan, irrationally hoping that there was something he could say or do to fix this all, to make it all better or at least make it go away.

They made it one more county west before Kitty became too uncomfortable to travel. Logan followed the lake as closely as he could and searched out a remote stretch of summer homes, places which were likely to be vacant at this time of year. It would do, at least for a night or two, at least long enough to take care of Kitty as she passed away. Logan had no special attachment to the girl, but he did remember her kindness to him when Marie had been gone, and he wanted to do right by her.

They crossed into the Indiana Dunes State Park, and Logan soon found a suitable spot, a large beach house situated on the edge of a cliff overlooking Kemil Beach. Logan carried the girl in and got her situated, followed closely by Bobby and Jean. They had a piece of luck - the homeowner had left a bottle of Vicodin in the medicine cabinet, which would at least help dull Kitty's pain. Jean helped administer the pills -was no small feat given Kitty's coughing - and then left Bobby to have a moment alone with her. Although as far as their fellow beach house residents knew, Kitty and Bobby had never dated, had never been intimate, they'd always been close friends. And that would be correct, with the exception of that one night........

"Yes, I do," Marie answered slowly. "And you're his whole life. I understand that too. Jean, do you think he'd be any less distraught over losing you than Logan was over my death? Especially with a baby on the way - Jean, it would've just killed him, you know that."

"I know," Marie soothed, ignoring her attitude. "But he made the decision the other way. I'm so sorry, Jean." The older woman just snorted at that. Marie sighed in frustration. "I don't know what you want me to say. I just don't know what else you want me to say here, Jean. I know you've never liked me for whatever reason, but we're stuck together now, for the duration, and I promised Scott to look out for you."

Marie huffed again, catching sight of Logan returning inside out of the corner of her eye, and reminding her that there were more important things going on than fighting with Jean. "We - we shouldn't be fighting." Jean said nothing. "It's time to bury Jubilee. I could use your help with the body. Maybe we can use some sheets for a shroud or something."

By the time they'd prepared Jubilee's body for burial, Kitty had passed. It happened quietly, in her sleep, and Bobby lay with her long after he felt her labored breathing finally cease. When Jean came to check on her, she didn't say anything; she only gently closed Kitty's eyes and said she thought burying the girls together would be appropriate. Bobby was grateful for that. He didn't think he was up to having the big talk at the moment.

Bobby sat back, taking her words in. Jean let him think it over in silence. They'd known each other a long time - long enough for Jean to know that Bobby wasn't the simple class clown he sometimes played at being, long enough to know that he was carefully thoughtful and chose his words with precision when the occasion called for it. "Congratulations," he smiled bravely. "When are you due?"

"Oh, Jean....." Bobby knew the answer he would give; his hesitation wasn't because of that. He was just a little lost in the horribleness of the choice Jean was facing - her husband or her child. Bobby took her hand in his and gathered his thoughts as his eyes met Jean's. Scott was the closest thing he'd ever have to a big brother, and he hadn't liked leaving him in Westchester much better than Jean had. It was only because Scott had told him - no, ordered him - to go and look after Kitty and Jubes that he'd agreed to run. Bobby thought about that a long time, then his gaze swept slowly over Kitty's still form before he answered. "I don't know what the right choice is, I really don't. There's no good choice there. But when I couldn't make the tough decisions, I always looked to Scott. Jean, he made his decision. Trust him."

A sharp sob shot through her and she flung herself into Bobby's arms, weeping in earnest against his shoulder. For the first time since Kitty had fallen ill, he hoped that he wouldn't be joining her as soon as he thought. He still had friends who needed him.

The burial took place first thing in the morning. The girls were buried in the same grave, as Jean had suggested. Marie cried liberally throughout the brief ceremony, as did Bobby. They had been closest to their two fallen comrades, and were taking it the hardest. Logan left the two to commiserate together at the grave site in favor of taking the chance to have a little talk with Jean.

"Can't tell you what to do. Can't keep you with us if you don't wanna be. But if I were in his shoes, probably the only thing givin' me any comfort in this whole shitty situation would be that you got away, that my kid was gonna make it. If I was in *your* shoes, I wouldn't wanna take that away from him."

"Logan, it won't make a difference what I do, and you know that as well as anyone. It's out, and we can't stop it. Look how much it's spread in just a couple of days. It's - it'll probably be all over by the end of the summer. Before the first leaf falls out of one of these trees, most everyone will be dead, me and this baby included. Why not spend my last days trying to save my husband's life, trying to help him? The ending won't be any different no matter what I do."

Logan sighed. He'd said his piece. Jean would have to make up her own mind. He sighted Marie pulling back from Bobby and glancing over at him. He tried not to wonder what he'd do if Marie were with child and in danger. She broke from Bobby completely after a final hug, and headed back toward the house.

"Marie's right," Bobby put in. "It's been pretty quiet here too. I haven't seen any people at all, and I doubt there's a big beach population in March. No one's found us here so far. I think - I think maybe they would've, if they were still looking for us."

"No guarantee of that," Logan grumbled. He'd made his feelings in favor of heading further west well known, but he was beginning to see that there may be some advantages to staying put. The house itself was very defensible, thanks to the peninsula of a cliff it was perched on, one rising at least a hundred feet high above the small beach that lined this stretch of the Great Lake. There was essentially only one approach - the one from the beach road - and it was easily observed from the house. Marie's point about fish and game was a good one; he felt confident that some of the white-tailed deer he'd seem on the edges of their property would make a good, steady source of meat. And as eager as he was to get further west, chancing the main roads wasn't an appealing idea.

Logan came in that evening, having successfully brought down his first deer. He had Bobby help him gut and skin it, hoping to teach the younger man some useful skills. Bobby had mostly looked pale and sick, but he had been paying attention, Logan could tell. He actually found himself liking the kid, and admiring his resolve.

He'd been reluctant to leave Marie at the house to go on the hunt with Bobby, but he hadn't gone far, and when he came back, she was waiting on the porch so that he sighted her right away. He wondered, even now, if she really got the depth of his feelings for her, how hard it had been on him losing her, and how absolutely ecstatic he was to have her back. Marie - she was everything to him, and even if the world was falling down around them, his focus remained with her.

The thought that important thing now was to keep her safe, warm, fed, and to help her through this most recent trauma, the loss of her friends, along with helping her heal from the hurts she'd suffered when she was a captive in the lab. He pushed back the anger that the recollection of her suffering and his failure always brought, and tried to turn his attention to fixing those things as best he could now.

She was waiting for him upstairs, in the master bedroom they'd commandeered, and as he ascended the stairs he thought through some things he could say and do with her tonight, now that all the immediate crises seemed to have passed. He found her lying on her stomach on the large bed, facing away from him. He took a moment to take her in. Her legs were bent at the knee and she mindlessly kicked her feet in the air while tracing a pattern on the bedspread with one hand and humming slightly to herself. Logan allowed himself a smile and a satisfied hum of his own before creeping on to the bed with her.

Her scent changed when his knee hit the mattress, but she didn't look back at him. He knelt behind her, anchoring his hands on her thighs, and sliding them up over her body in a loving caress, tracing her buttocks, hips, and back as he slowly lowered himself to lie beside her. His hands finally swept upward to her shoulders, then back down over her arms as he settled in and rested his head just below her shoulder, against her back, where he could hear her heartbeat loud and clear. He couldn't see it, but a blissful smile was spreading across her features. "How're you holdin' up?"

"OK, I guess." They breathed together in unison, and Logan experimentally tried making his heart keep the same time as hers. After a few moments he found he couldn't quite do it, but there was a complimentary rhythm in the two; his heart beat filled the silent gaps between hers, almost as though the two sounds were playing with each other, dancing together. "I think we did the right thing, staying here."

"Mmmm." Logan didn't really want to think about what was going on in the outside world at the moment. They'd had it quiet here, and he'd ignored the news that Jean was listening to downstairs deliberately. They couldn't change what was happening, and he had no desire to dwell on it. There was something infinitely more interesting right in front of him. "Think we should sleep in tomorrow? Relax a little?"

"Sounds good," she sighed, prompting him to slither up her body and turn her to face him. She felt strong hands moving up and down her side, occasionally delving down to cup her buttocks. "I like you touching me like this, you know. The other night - I didn't mean to give the impression that I didn't want you to. I just - it can be a little nerve-wracking."

He started with her mouth. It had always held a fascination for him - the wide, ample lips and the little gap between her front teeth. He'd already found that she loved to be kissed, and that it fed her desire. Her mouth was seemingly always just the right degree of moist for him, and whatever she'd eaten or drank that day never masked completely the unique part of her taste, the part that was just plain *Marie*, the part that he craved.

The other night, he'd run his hands and mouth all over her lithe body, baring her flesh to him and coaxing it to responsiveness with painstaking care. He had the same plan in mind for her tonight, with the added feature of encouraging her to explore him as well. She'd done so before, but hesitantly - that had been the only time when her nervousness surfaced again after its initial burst. Making it clear to her that he reveled in her attentions, with both feverishly whispered words and uninhibited actions, had helped some, but she still hadn't been anywhere near comfortable, and he'd had to give himself his own release.

"Logan......." Her moan brought his thoughts back to the present. One of the benefits of giving up her mouth, he reflected as he licked and kissed his way down to her neck, then her full, heavy breasts, was hearing that moan. "Oh, God, Logan......" Her legs parted instinctively when his lips skimmed to her stomach. He eagerly took his cue. "Oh......"

Her scent was strong and she was much more aroused this time. He kissed her soft folds as eagerly as he had her mouth, licking and sucking every bit as tenderly. She bucked a little beneath him and he urged her on. Soon, much more quickly than he'd thought, she climaxed, whimpering his name. He gave her a few more soothing licks before sliding back up the length of her body, kissing all over her along the way.

Her flushed skin and hammering heart was doing a number on his wavering restraint. Somehow, he'd taken her hand in his and guided it to his erection when he reached her lips again, and before he really realized what he'd done, she was stroking him. He guided her gently, laying his hand over hers. Her kisses became more passionate, more urgent, but before long, he had to part from them, the intensity of the pleasure becoming all he could focus on.

"Marie, yes, p-please......." Their faces were still less than an inch apart and he could feel her warm breath sweep over him. He found her eyes, and sunk deeper into desire when he saw the warmth and passion in them. She parted her lips, then bit down on the lower one, just a little. That was his undoing. He really had always had a thing for that mouth.

"Aaah! Ummmph!!" His release was intense, and protracted. He quivered and shook for several long moments before it was over. Marie let him recover for a breath or two after it was finished before claiming his lips in another kiss. "Love you," he panted when she released him.