Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

A Year In The Dunes (Part 1)

Title: A Year in the Dunes

E-Mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com

Archive: Dolphin Haven, Peep Hut - anyone else, please ask ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own them - well, at least not any of the income-generating ones ;)

Feedback: Please! With a bundle of prairie grass on top? Good, bad, and ugly welcome.

Summary: A Seasons in Yellowstone AU story. The usual suspects don't make it quite so far west this time; Marie does her best Lazarus imitation; and, Bobby gets more action than usual.

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 ;)

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Every day seemed the same to him. Hell, every day *was* the same in the way that mattered - they were all days without Marie, and that's what he would be consigned to for the rest of his cruelly long life.

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.

This day, however, would be different than every other day since he lost her; this would be the day on which he found her again.

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.

When Logan sniffed, huffed in frustration, but didn't turn around to look at her, Marie realized she'd have to do more than stand there to get his notice. "Hey."

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 sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you. I, uh, I'm not dead." It sounded horribly lame to even Marie's own ears, but she didn't know what else to say.

"Marie......." He was still drinking in the sight of her and hadn't seemed to have registered her words.

"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 - "

Her words were cut off when she came within a step of him, prompting him to seize her by the shoulders and avidly sniff her. "You're not some ghost? I'm not imaginin' ya?"

"Um, no." Marie stood still and waited for him to finish sniffing. It took quite some time. "Are you OK? Logan? I know it's a shock, but - "

He interrupted her again, this time with a laugh that was nothing short of gleeful, one she'd never heard from him. "Marie!"

"Yep," she confirmed, her eyes tearing up a bit. "I'm back."

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.

"Goddammit," Logan cursed with some heat. "They gotcha. I shoulda known, I shoulda - "

"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.

"Are you OK?" she asked, not breaking the embrace, but not letting herself get quite as lost in it either.

"I am now," he sighed. "I gotcha back. I gotcha back."

"I am back," Marie confirmed. After a few more moments, still moments that were broken only by the sound of Logan's happy sighs, she spoke again. "I think I should probably let the others know I'm here."

"No," Logan responded, almost immediately and with surprising vehemence. "Stay here."

"Logan," Marie whispered gently, hugging him a little as he began to sway with her in his arms. "I'm real, I'm alive. I won't disappear if we go inside. It's OK."

Logan pulled back, looked in her eyes, and seemed to come to a decision. "Lemme carry ya."

"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.

"You got my alarm clock," she observed, her good humor at the fact pushing through her exhaustion.

"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 know," Marie answered softly, finally finding her voice. "I - I love you too," she sputtered out awkwardly, following it up with a nervous smile. Logan gave her a warm one in return and stroked her hair.

"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."

Logan sat back down on the bed. She thought he might take her gloves off, or touch her face as he'd said. Instead, he slid both of his bare hands into her hair, and began gently massaging her scalp.

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, um, I got out a while ago. About six months ago. I was - "

"Mm-hmm," Marie confirmed with a wince. "I'm sorry. I needed some time. I - I wasn't quite - I just needed some time to get myself together."

"Six months." That sounded a whole lot more like an accusation than a question.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were - I didn't realize you were so upset. I wasn't - I wasn't myself."

"Upset? *Upset*, Marie? I was fuckin' desperate! Six months, you've been out there - *alive* - for six months and you never - you - you - Jesus Christ, Marie!"

"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."

"I'm sorry," Marie repeated in a tiny whisper. "I didn't know you were so - so - " Mentally, she scrambled to find a word other than 'upset,' which Logan had already thrown back in her face with a snarl.

"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 - "

"*Maybe* I really didn't know?" Marie argued back softly. "You always kept a distance, Logan. You always flirted with Jean, with other women."

Logan heaved a sigh and rested his cheek atop her head. "I kept a distance 'cause I owed you that. I owed you a chance to grow up, to have some time - time to just take from me."

"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."

"No," Marie countered in a whisper. "I didn't know, not until now."

"Hmph." Logan turned her to face him. "Well, now ya know. You wanna?"

"Start a relationship?"

"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?"

"But what about what you need from me?"

"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.

"Um, aren't you going to - "

"Uh-uh. You're not goin' anywhere and I ain't either."

"But, if there's a mission - "

"Uh-uh. I got just one mission now, darlin'." They both felt another, sharper summons from the Professor. "Call all you want, Chuck, I ain't comin'."

"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.

"If you won't go down, he said he's coming up."

"I didn't hear that."

"Because he didn't mean for you to. He'd rather surprise you, put you off your guard." Logan gave her a quizzical look. "Telepathy. They, ah, gave me some enhancements at the lab."

Logan let out a low growl at that, and Marie seemed to consider the topic best discussed another time. She turned her attention to the door, and Scott, Jean, Storm, and Charles entered within a few seconds.

"Logan," Charles began firmly, "Your presence in the strategy room is required. There is no discussion. We will meet down there now."

Logan huffed and crossed his arms. Scott added, "That's an order." Logan smirked.

"I - I don't think we'll be going on this mission," Marie ventured.

"Are you leaving the team?" Jean queried. "Is that what you're saying, Logan?" Marie bridled a little - Logan hadn't been saying anything, she had.

"Yes," Marie answered for both of them, in an altogether more confident tone.

"This is serious," Charles replied, eyes fixed on Logan, giving no notice to Marie. "We have reason to believe that - that we have a bioterrorist on our hands."

"Bioterrorist?" Marie asked.

"Don't really give a shit," Logan commented.

"Well, you should," Scott put in. "Because we've already got a hundred dead and thousands are sick. We've got to intervene, and your healing factor makes you a must on this mission."

"There's no way in hell I'm takin' Marie inta somethin' like that. Uh-uh."

"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.

"Damn right she's stayin' here. With me." Logan wouldn't budge, she knew that. And if this was what they thought it was, they were wasting valuable time.

"Legacy," Marie blurted out. "It's Legacy."

They all stared at her with open mouths. Storm was the first to find her voice. "Legacy, it is a myth, a boogeyman, designed to scare mutants into - "

"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."

Jean was watching Marie now, intently and more than a little skeptically. "'No cure'? Why would they be trying to find a cure, Rogue, if the object was to kill us all? I just don't believe that this is Legacy. That doesn't make sense."

Marie took a deep breath and stifled a smart-ass response. "It didn't work exactly like they thought."

"You said it killed almost all the mutants they tried it on. I'd think that's precisely what they were aiming for," Jean said with obvious impatience and scorn.

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."

"How did they contain it?" The Professor asked.

"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."

"So, what is it? A virus? Bacteria?"

"I don't know," Marie shrugged. "I just know that it spreads in the air and that it kills."

"Well, that's helpful," Jean commented dryly.

"Jean," The Professor perfunctorily chided. "Rogue, you said one to two days for mutants, three to four for humans, correct?" Marie nodded. "That means we still have time. We've caught it early enough. If we - "

"No, you don't have time. It's - I'm afraid it's probably already too late," Marie finished, and Logan smelled her fear come back again, strong.

"Don't be afraid," Charles cooed. "If we are still within at least four days of exposure, we can certainly - "

"Not exposure," Marie corrected. "The symptoms. People die a few days after the symptoms show up. It incubates. It lives in you for a while first."

"How long?" Jean demanded.

"Months," Marie answered with finality. Charles slumped back in his chair.

"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!"

"Logan, if what she says is true, we're facing the biggest, most serious public health threat since - since I don't know when, and she's just - "

"I said four. Four months." Marie looked Jean square in the eye, showed her irritation, then let it go. "Four months," she repeated.

"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."

"I think it is," Marie reasoned.

"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."

"Hers is the one that matters to me."

Charles gave them both one last look, and wheeled himself out. Marie watched him go, then turned to face Logan, a little panic beginning to seep out. "Logan, we have to go with them. We- we- if I'm right, we have to go with them."

Logan thought about it for a moment, then answered, "If you're right, whether or not we go with 'em ain't gonna matter."

"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."

Marie's legs went out from under her and she found herself slumping to the floor, with Logan right beside her, looking worried. "There has to be something, something we can do. There has to be something."

"It's out," Logan said decisively. "It's done."

"So - so what?" Marie stammered. "We just give up and let it kill everybody? It - it couldn't really kill everybody, could it?" Logan gently moved them both to sit down on the bed in lieu of an answer. "Logan?"

"Listen to me, kid. I wantcha to touch me. Now. With your skin on. You can take my healin' and you'll be - "

"No, Logan, no. I don't - "

"Don't argue, Marie. Just do it. I'll be fine, you're not gonna hurt me. I'll be good as new in a coupla minutes. You just - "

"Logan, no." She said it softly but much more firmly. "I don't need to. They gave me healing. Healing, super-strength, flight, telepathy. All the perfect ingredients for your basic super- mutant."

He winced. "Christ, what'd they do to ya, baby?" Marie only looked down and shook her head. "C'mere." He took her in his arms, but Marie's body was still tense. "It's gonna be OK."

"No, it's not. It's going to be the opposite of OK. Everyone's - everyone will die. Logan, the world, it'll just - just stop. Jean's right - it'll be the biggest disaster we've ever seen. It's not going to be OK."

"We'll be OK," Logan corrected. "I'm gonna make sure of that."

"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."

When she didn't say anything else for some time, Scott tried again. "I'm sure we can find a way to stop it, whatever it is. I have faith in you, Jean. I know we can - "

"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?"

She turned, looking levelly at him and meeting his eyes for the first time. "I'm pregnant, Scott. I'm about two months along." Scott sat there slack-jawed and Jean watched him gape a moment or two before repeating herself. "I'm pregnant."

"Why - why didn't you say something? I thought you were just late, that - oh my God. The mission - you didn't have to go, you *shouldn't* have gone! Oh God, Jean what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that Rogue was right. And that this baby will probably die one way or another. Might as well fight it, might as well get on the ground and get a good look for myself, so that I have the best chance of beating it."

"But you really don't think you can," Scott gasped out before he could stop himself.

"No," Jean answered, and turned her attention back to her patients.

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?"

"Shhh, baby. Lemme touch ya."

"Easy, darlin'. You needta be touched. You needta be loved. Trust me."

"I do, but - but I'm not ready for - for what you're doing."

"Marie," he insisted gently, "relax. I know it's hard. But trust me, darlin'. You need this."

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."

His hands paused but didn't leave her breast completely. He kept one hand on her, cupping her, while he propped himself up with the other. "I wantcha to tell me somethin', Marie," he whispered. "Tell me what you're scared of, darlin'."

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 do know that I'm safe with you, but I'm not ready for - for - doing this. I need time."

"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."

Giving the most minute nod, she acquiesced.

"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.

"Right here." His voice sounded right in front of her. "Let's go."

"But the team - we have to help them - we - "

"There's too many of 'em, Marie. I'm takin' you and gettin' outta here."

He grabbed her arm, but Marie didn't move. "No, Logan, no. I could've led them here. I've got to help fight. I have to."

"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.

"Logan, wait!" Scott called. "Wait!"

"We're gettin' outta here," he grumbled, and kept on going. Marie dug her heels in and halted his progress. Super-strength came in handy at times. "Marie......"

"Logan, we should stay, we should fight."

"No." That came from Scott. "Take Jean with you. Get out. Take Jean and whoever else makes it to the garage in the next five minutes and get the hell out," Scott instructed, shoving Jean in front of him.

"You are going," he interrupted Jean sternly. "Now. Move it."

"This is ridiculous! I'm not some kid you can order around, I'm your wife, and a member of this team! You need me, Scott."

"Our baby needs a chance." Marie let out a little gasp at that and she heard one from Logan as well. "Go, Jean."

"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."

"NO!" Marie flinched at the snarl, and jumped back.