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Title: A
Logical Progression
Author:
Terri
E-mail:
xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating:
PG-13
Disclaimer:
I don't own any of them. Poo.
Archive:
WRFA, Mutual Admiration, Dolphin Haven Peep
Hut - anyone
else, please ask and I'll happily provide
:)
Feedback:
Please? With a cherry on top? Good, bad,
and ugly
welcome.
Summary:
What if Logan and Marie kept a cool head,
open communication
lines, and just a pinch of optimism
about their
relationship?
Comments:
I like a good angsty story (OK, usually one
with a happy
ending) as much as the next girl, but I
started
to wonder why these two *had* to be
dysfunctional
most of the time. Heck, they seemed to
have the
makings of a pretty open and straightforward
relationship
in the movie - couldn't they try to work
out the
issues between them in a pretty direct manner?
I was in
a rare cheerful mood and in the mood for a
story where
they did work things out, despite some
pretty big
obstacles. Then, Lateo flung a bunny about
an unpretty
Rogue, one that doesn't clean up into a
beauty queen
with a little bit of soap and elbow
grease,
one that would make people wonder why Logan
was with
her. That, plus the urge to write an AU
story, turned
into this little fic :)
----------------------------------------------------------
They picked
her up on a routine mission. She'd been
in the lab
for almost five years by the time they
found her.
That meant that she was seventeen, and it
also meant
that she'd probably seen every horrible
thing that
one person could do to another by now. By
the looks
of her - burned cheek, scarred back, hacked
up legs
- she'd had a lot of those horrible things
done to
her too. They took her back to Xavier's, back
to the mansion,
as an act of pity. There was no way
she could
fight as an x-man and she had no valuable
skills.
In fact, most of the team wanted to leave
her to the
local authorities and hope for a foster
placement,
as they had with the majority of the other
underage
mutants found there, but Logan insisted on
taking her
to Xavier's. He was the one who'd found
her, strapped
naked to an examination table, and he
was in charge
of this particular mission, so his
wishes were
followed.
For the
most part, Marie stayed in the room they'd
assigned
to her, the one next to Logan's. She had a
room to
herself due to her severe mutation, which she
welcomed.
The other kids at the mansion looked upon
her with
disgust or pity or both, a reaction which
most of
the adults had as well. The exception was
Logan, who
she saw as her hero, her savior, and who
seemed to
see her as something worthwhile, something
good. He'd
burst into that lab, killed the men
hurting
her, and freed her. Even now, he watched over
her, checking
in once each day, asking how she was
doing, how
she was feeling, and if she needed
anything.
Most of
the kids made fun of her attachment to him.
Most of
Logan's teammates scolded him for paying her
too much
attention, for leading a poor, horribly
disfigured
girl on by letting her think he harbored an
interest
in her. Logan usually told his teammates to
stay out
of his business, and Marie adopted the same
response
after a while. She herself had no delusions.
Logan had
plenty of female company in and out of his
room, and
Marie knew he could have any woman or girl,
and probably
any of the men, if he wanted them. She
knew he
wouldn't want her when there was any other
option available,
let alone the abundance of options
Logan had
before him.
But she
relished in the fact that it was her he chose
for companionship.
He only came to talk to her, he
only wanted
to watch hockey games with her, he sought
out only
her company at the end of each evening. He
delighted
in teaching her things, especially
self-defense,
his specialty and area of instruction at
the school.
It wasn't a lot, and Marie knew that
somewhere
in her objective mind, but it was more than
she'd had
in a very long time and it felt a lot like
everything
she could ever hope for. She was content
with their
relationship as it was, and if she
sometimes
found herself wishing she was whole,
unblemished,
and attractive in his eyes, she only let
those wishes
have a hold over her for a moment,
thoroughly
disciplining herself to think more
practical
thoughts in short order.
Everything
went along well for the better part of a
year. Then,
one day, Logan didn't come and check on
her at the
end of the evening. Marie waited until
almost midnight,
but he did not appear. She cried
herself
to sleep that night, salty tears winding their
way down
her mottled cheek. Finally, after three
days and
nights, Scott came to her door to see if she
was all
right. She said she was fine and Scott
complimented
her on handling Logan's absence well. It
wasn't until
Scott said he was very sorry that Logan
had been
taken during the mission and that he hoped
they would
be able to find him soon, that she broke
down. She
should've known, she scolded herself, that
Logan wouldn't
miss a day. She should've known
something
was wrong right away. Scott only said that
they were
trying their best to find him, and that
maybe one
day they would.
Marie didn't
want to wait for 'one day.' She began
her own
search. The x-men, she'd learned from Scott,
had tried
to locate Logan using Cerebro and had
failed.
They stopped right there, giving up any
active search
in favor of a wait-and-see-if-a-clue-
comes-to-us
approach. Marie hid her fury at that,
surreptitiously
searched the mansion files and
computers
for records of Logan's last mission, and
found out
all she could about illegal mutant
experimentation
labs. She was determined to find him.
She had
a hunch about where he might be after three
months of
digging. There was a lab, or at least
rumors of
one, hidden somewhere deep in the woods of
British
Columbia. Marie was playing a hunch - there
was no firm
information, no sure lead, but something
in her gut
told her that Logan was there.
She gathered
her nerve and her courage and went to the
Professor,
Scott and Jean. She told them all she'd
found and
where she thought Logan was. Scott said
there just
wasn't enough to go on. The Professor said
he knew
how much Marie must miss Logan. Jean said
that Marie
needed to let go and move on. Marie
nodded,
packed up the papers and maps she'd brought,
thanked
them for their time, and returned to her room.
Logan had
told her where he stashed money, guns,
knives,
explosives, and other helpful items, in case
there was
ever an attack on the mansion or an
emergency.
Marie took something from each category,
the most
immediately helpful item being the keys to a
truck that
Logan owned. Logan, not the Professor.
They'd talked
often about his need to keep things of
his own,
and Marie knew well the wisdom of that
approach
now. She left the mansion between 3 and 4
a.m., the
time when most people were in deep sleep,
the time
that Logan had taught her was best for a
getaway.
It took
her only three days to reach her target - 54
hours of
actual driving time with brief stops for
sleep along
the way. She took another day to rest and
survey the
lab. Logan had always taught her that you
should gather
information first, then make decisions,
then take
action. She followed his advice very well.
Her observations
told her that infiltrating the lab
would be
very difficult. In fact, she thought, it
would be
easier to destroy than to sneak in and out
of. She
liked that idea. She liked it a lot.
So, she
spent one more day planning, and then, on the
sixth day
after leaving the mansion, she made her
attack.
She quickly and quietly planted explosives
around the
perimeter of the building, careful to stay
out of sight
of the exterior security cameras, then
she retreated
to a commanding vantage point, armed
with a high-powered
rifle. The lab was big on
high-tech,
mechanical and electronic security, and
light on
manpower. Marie estimated that, when the
security
teams cam running out to investigate the
explosion,
she could probably eliminate half of the
force from
the hillside. Indeed, she counted 22
soldiers
felled with her rifle in the ensuing action.
After they
realized that they'd be picked off if they
kept coming
out, Marie set off the big explosive, the
one that
would compromise the structural integrity of
the building,
the one that would bring it down on
everyone
inside.
It was a
calculated risk. She knew that Logan could
survive
grievous injury, and he'd often regaled her
with tales
of his recovery from some gruesome,
life-threatening
wound. If he didn't survive, she
tried to
comfort herself with the knowledge that he
would be
better off that way than alive and in the
hands of
his torturers. When the dust slowly abated
from the
building's collapse, she drew her Smith and
Wesson,
attached the silencer, and made her way to the
building.
The people
left alive mostly begged for help instead
of offering
resistance, but Marie shot any that she
could identify
as a soldier or doctor anyway. It took
quite a
bit of searching through the unstable
structure,
but she finally found Logan, crunched
beneath
a large concrete supporting pillar. He was
breathing
and his pulse was good, but he was not
conscious,
so he'd be of limited help to her. She'd
planned
for that contingency, bringing a long a sturdy
but lightweight
jack. She labored to move the pillar
a few inches
off of him, and finally had raised it
enough to
scoot him out when he began showing signs of
consciousness.
Bleary eyes looked toward her, then
widened
in fear.
"It's OK.
It's OK. I'm going to get you out of
here." She
half-carried, half-dragged Logan fully
free from
the rubble, then hauled him behind her as
she crept
through the collapsed structure. She got
him well
clear before planting the final set of
explosives
and reducing the once-fearsome lab to
nothing
more than a smoking hole in the ground.
She dragged
Logan the few hundred yards to his truck
and placed
him inside. She knew they had to clear the
area before
anyone could respond to any last-minute
cries for
help that might have come from the lab. She
drove the
truck off-road, into the forest, hoping that
the cover
of the trees would shield them from aerial
surveillance.
Marie hadn't planned much beyond that.
She'd figured
that by this point, Logan would either
be healing
and able to help her or he'd be dead and
she would
no longer much care what happened to her.
She tried
to bind his wounds a little with the old
shirts of
his she'd brought, and waited for him to
heal.
When his
eyes first open to see a sleeping Marie
beside him,
he thought he must be hallucinating. He'd
thought
of her often while he was at the lab,
wondering
if she was all right there by herself, if
the other
people there were treating her OK, who she
would find
to talk to once he was gone. And he'd had
no doubt
that he would not return from the lab this
time. He'd
overheard the doctors saying something
about extracting
the adamantium from his body. He'd
barely survived
having it put in; he was certain he
wouldn't
survive having it taken out, not with
anything
resembling sanity left in him. But something
had happened
before they could figure out the best way
to do it
- yes, Logan remembered, someone attacked the
lab.
His first
thought was that the x-men had come looking
for him.
But he quickly discarded that possibility.
For one,
they would never bring Marie along. If she'd
tried to
stow away with them on the plane or
something,
they'd have known, or at least Jean
would've
known. There was also The Policy - no high
risk missions
unless there is significant civilian
casualty
exposure. He was only one potential casualty
and Chuck
wouldn't risk a half-dozen of his
expensively
trained, hard-to-replace x-men to get back
just one.
No, Logan finally reasoned, Marie must've
hired someone
to do this and snuck away from the
mansion
somehow. As if she'd heard his thoughts and
known he
wanted some answers from her, she suddenly
opened her
eyes.
"Logan?
Are you all right?" He nodded. "Whew. I
was worried."
"What happened
here, Marie? How'd you find me?" The
doctors
had told him that the lab was psi-shielded.
She couldn't
have hired a telepath to do it and even
he would've
had a hard time doing the manual tracking.
"I looked.
I knew one of these places somewhere
must've
had you, and I picked this one on a hunch.
Are you
sure you're OK?"
"Yeah,"
Logan replied, sitting up a little. Marie
mirrored
his actions. "Where's everybody else?"
"I don't
think there were any other mutants in the lab
with you.
It looks like you were the only one there.
Well, the
only one there still alive." He was looking
at her intently,
and Marie suddenly realized that her
bad side,
the burned side of her face, was facing him.
She tried
to always sit with her good side to him, so
he wouldn't
have to look at the ugly parts of her, but
now, she
was stuck in the driver's seat. Maybe she
could ask
him to change places with her.
"No, no,
I mean - where's the other people? Whoever
busted up
the lab and got me out."
"Um, it's
just me."
"You?" Logan
asked in disbelief. There was no way
that sweet
little Marie could pull something like that
off by herself.
It just wasn't possible. Sure, he'd
taken to
teaching her a little about weapons,
hand-to-hand,
tracking, but this was something that
would've
been almost out of his league, let alone that
of his sometime-student.
"Holy hell, that was
dangerous,
Marie! What were ya thinkin'?"
"I tried
getting the x-men to go, but - but they
wouldn't
believe me that you were here. I didn't have
any proof,
just a feeling. I'm sorry."
"I don't
give a shit about that - you coulda gotten
hurt. Wait
- are you? Are you hurt?"
"Just scrapes,"
she answered shyly, hoping that at
least some
of her hair would fall across her
disfigured
cheek as she tilted her head downward.
"Lemme see."
He reached out for her, but when she
flinched
away, he realized he wasn't wearing any
gloves.
"Shit. There's gotta be a pair in here
somewhere.
Yeah. There we go. Glove compartment.
Knew I had
some in there." He looked back to Marie to
see her
fidgeting, very nervous. He began to worry
that she
was hurt more than she was letting on.
"Lemme see
ya, kid." He gently tilted her chin up and
noticed
a small tickle of blood sliding down along her
hairline.
"Knock your head on somethin'?"
"I- I don't
remember. It's all kind of a blur. I was
just thinking
about getting you and getting out after
the building
fell." Logan paused in his examination
and met
her eyes. "Sorry."
"Listen
to me, Marie. Don't - don't do this ever
again. No
matter what. I don't wantcha riskin' your
life to
help me out. What would I have done if you'd
gotten yourself
killed, ever think of that?" He was
trying to
rein his temper in, but thoughts of a dead,
broken Marie
or Marie back in the hands of the
'doctors'
weren't helping. "I don't wantcha to take
those kinda
risks, not for anybody."
"I couldn't
just leave you there with - with them."
She spat
out the last word and tears began to fill her
eyes. "I
don't want you to get killed either. You're
- you're
all I have, Logan."
Logan sighed,
his anger dissipating some with her
words. "You
have the x-men, Chuck. They'll always
put ya up
and take care of you. Why do ya think I
brought
you back there, huh? I wanted you to have a
place that
was safe and that you could stay at no
matter what."
Marie lowered her head and a few tears
fell. They
were equal parts in response to his kind
words and
in relief at the realization that he was
really OK,
OK enough to be chastising her. Logan took
her in his
arms for a careful hug. "Look, just talk
to me, OK?
You and me - we can always talk to each
other, that's
what you always say. Just talk to me
now. What
made ya come all the way out here lookin'
for me,
Marie?"
"I told
you. I couldn't leave you to those - those
people.
And I don't want - I don't like it at
Xavier's
when you're not there." She relaxed a little
now, burying
her face in his shoulder. "You're all I
have, Logan,"
she repeated.
"OK. OK.
But listen to me, kid. You've got your
whole life
ahead of you. I'll be - I'll be fine, no
matter what
happens, I'll heal. You won't." He
didn't mean
for that last part to come out harshly,
but it had,
and it caused Marie to pull away from him
with a pained
glance and then to turn herself away
from him.
Kicking himself for saying it when it was
so very
obvious that she didn't heal like he did, he
tried to
apologize, putting a hand on her back.
"Sorry.
I didn't mean it that way."
"It's OK."
Marie tucked her legs up beneath her and
turned away
form him a little more, belying her
shaky-voiced
words.
Logan didn't
quite know what else to do or how to make
it up to
her. Why don't you try using the brain for
once, asshole,
he thought sardonically. First, he had
to find
out if she was hurt, where, and how badly.
Then, he
had to find out where they were and who might
be coming
after them. Lastly, he had to figure out
how to get
somewhere where Marie would be safe. "I
needta know
if you're hurt," he ventured softly. She
shook her
head. He'd already seen the cut on her
forehead,
so he knew she was hurt at least there, at
least a
little. And she'd said 'scrapes', plural, so
there were
probably other wounds. He decided to try
again. The
thought that he'd never seemed interested
in 'trying'
before Marie passed through his mind. "I
saw the
little cut on your forehead. Lemme fix it,
OK, Marie?"
"It's OK.
It stopped bleeding."
"Lemme see,"
he asked, slowly turning her toward him
by the shoulders.
Her head was down, hair falling
over her
face. He swept one side of it up with his
gloved hand
to get a good look at the cut. "Don't
look too
bad." She was right - it had stopped
bleeding
and was starting to scab over. "Where
else're
you hurt, darlin'?" He knew she liked it when
he called
her that. It usually got at least a small
smile, and
this time was no exception.
"I've got
some - some scrapes on my knees, but they're
not bad.
There's some on my shoulder too. I think
I'm OK.
Just - just a little shaky." She turned her
head so
that she could see him a little better, but
immediately
turned back. For some reason, his heart
tightened
at that.
"You wanna
let me have a look, huh?" It wasn't really
a question,
it was an instruction. She nodded, turned
away from
him again, and began shrugging her jacket
off while
keeping her back to him. "Where are we
anyhow?"
"British
Columbia. Way north. I drove about twelve
kilometers
into the forest, off-road. I haven't seen
anybody
coming, but - " She cut herself off with a
sharp hiss
of pain as she peeled her blood-soaked
blouse from
her wounded shoulder. "That one might be
a little
worse than I thought."
"Grrr....."
He'd always had a strong reaction to the
smell of
her blood, from the very first day he'd found
her in that
lab. Simultaneous urges to lick it all
clean and
to kill something weren't easy to cope with.
"Is it bad?"
Logan tried to shake himself out of his
emotional
reaction, and he gently probed her wound to
come up
with an answer for her question. It was a
jagged tear
that happened to hit a fairly large blood
vessel.
The bleeding looked to be slowing, but not
stopping.
She could slowly bleed to death from it
over several
hours, maybe a day, or it might heal on
it's own
given a little pressure and some bandaging.
"It's bad."
He'd asked her often to let him touch
her, to
see if she could borrow his powers and use
them to
heal her wounds. He knew how much they
troubled
her. This might be the perfect opportunity
to try to
talk her into it again. "I think - I think
I should
touch you."
"No, Logan,
no." She did turn to face him now,
modestly
holding her tattered shirt up to her chest to
cover herself.
"You need to heal. You're still - "
"I'm just
fine," he interrupted, already pulling off
one glove.
"Just relax, Marie. Everythin's gonna be
OK. I'm
just gonna touch you and fix this right up."
"Logan..is
it really that bad?"
He'd never
lied to her, and he wasn't going to start
now, but
that didn't mean that he couldn't try to
convince
her. "It ain't good. Somethin' hit a big
blood vessel.
It's a slow bleeder, but it could bleed
ya to death."
Marie shivered, and Logan felt a pang
of remorse
for painting such a harsh picture. "I'm
not gonna
let that happen, one way or another. It's
your call,
but I think yeah - I think I'd better touch
ya."
Marie squirmed
a little. "I - I don't know what to
do."
"It's OK,"
he assured, "lemme take care of it."
Receiving
the barest of nods from her, he reached out
for her
unspoiled cheek and lay his hand on it.
Immediately,
the pull began. Logan fought to hang on
to consciousness,
and he kept his eyes fixed on her
shoulder.
He watched as the skin re-knit itself,
watched
her heal. Glancing to her face, he held on a
moment longer,
noticing that her burn scars were still
as awful
as they always had been.
"Let go,
Logan, let go!" She shoved him away from
her, and
he let the blackness take him for a few
moments.
Marie began to panic as she watched him
twitch and
thrash in the passenger seat. "Oh God.."
After a
few moments, though, he calmed, and in another
few, he
opened his eyes. "Whoa"
"Logan?
Are you all right?" Marie was leaning in
close to
him, looking at him with worried and teary
eyes. "Logan?"
"I'm fine."
Dammit, he thought, nothing - nothing for
the scars.
They hadn't healed one bit. "I'm OK."
Marie moved
back, giving him space to sit up a little.
"It didn't
work, did it? Not - not on my face or any
of the old
scars. It didn't work." It dawned on him
that she
hadn't even taken a glance at the mirror to
check -
she'd been too busy worrying over him. She
still wasn't
looking to see for herself, she was
waiting
for his answer. If even a little of his
disappointment
showed on his face, she probably
already
had it.
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged, and tears began to fall in
earnest.
He took her hand in his. "I'm sorry,
Marie."
"I - I didn't
think it would work. I'm sorry -
they're
so ugly and I just want them gone and I can't
even get
my stupid powers to do that, you still have
to look
at them and they're horrible and - and - " A
huge, heaving
sob cut her off. Logan began to worry
that she'd
hyperventilate if she couldn't calm
herself.
"Hey, take
some deep breaths, OK? It's gonna be OK.
Don't cry,
Marie, it's - you're OK and I'm OK and I'm
outta that
lab, thanks to you. It's all gonna be OK."
He sandwiched
the hand he'd been holding in both of
his. "Try
to calm down. We gotta - we gotta move
outta here
pretty soon, OK? Can you - can you calm
down a little
and switch me places? I'll drive." She
nodded at
that and tried to regain her composure. He
released
her so that she could move out of the truck
and around
to the passenger side. Once they were both
well-settled
back in the vehicle, Logan paused before
starting
up the engine. "You doin' OK over there?"
Marie tried
to smile and nodded. "Sorry. I didn't
mean to
get all emotional." She smiled a little more
and her
burned cheek twitched in turn. "It's been
kind of
a busy day." That got a smile from Logan, as
she had
hoped.
"We're gonna
drive in a little further, find a place
to camouflage
the truck and hole up for the night.
It's startin'
to snow a little, so we gotta get a move
on. Can't
leave 'em tire tracks in the snow to
follow.
Too easy to spot from the air." Marie
sniffled,
and sat up a little straighter. "We'll just
stay put
here and then we'll figure out what we're
gonna do
next."
"Aren't
we - what about calling the x-men?"
Logan frowned
at that. "If they wouldn't come out to
get me,
they ain't comin' out to help us. Even if
everybody
back there is toast, I just - I don't think
they'd do
it, not now, not until the dust settles and
they're
sure it ain't a high-risk situation. Did you
leave anythin'
important back at the mansion?"
"No. I used
some of your money, but I have the rest
of it here,
your guns and things too. That duffel bag
has your
clothes."
"No, darlin',
I mean did you leave anythin' important
of yours?"
Marie shook her head no but shot him a
confused
look. "Good. We're not - we ain't goin'
back right
away. We're gonna wait for Chuck to
contact
us. He'll give us a heads up when and if
everythin'
is safe."
"OK."
Logan fixed
his eyes ahead, and began weaving through
the trees.
They found
a good spot, tucked into a natural recess
in the hill.
The snow was coming down quite a bit,
and Logan
retrieved their clothing from the truck bed.
They put
most of it on, to try to stay warm. Logan
wanted to
stay put until the storm was over and then,
if there
was still no word from Xavier, hunt something
for food
and start moving through the forest.
Marie finished
bundling herself up in the clothing,
and reclined
the seat to be more comfortable. Logan
copied her
actions, and they lay on their sides facing
each other.
Marie felt very comfortable that way -
her damaged
cheek was pressed to the seat, and all her
other visible
scars were covered by clothing. She
felt almost
normal.
"The snow
is pretty."
"It'll actually
keep us warmer, you know, once it
builds up
into a good coverin'. Keeps the wind out."
"Are you
feeling OK? Do you - do you want to talk
about anything?"
"You mean
'bout back there?"
"Yeah."
"No."
"OK. I'm
glad you're OK." She never pushed him to
talk, and
Logan appreciated that. It was probably why
he found
himself talking to her so often. There may
even come
a time when he would talk to her about this.
"I've never
been to Canada before, you know."
"I like
it up here. It's quieter, less people."
"Easier
on your senses?" He gave a gruff nod. "After
you touched
me, I could smell and hear everything
really well
there for a while. It was amazing, but I
can see
how it would be hard, especially in crowds."
"Yeah. Are
you - everythin's OK up in your head,
right?"
Marie nodded. She'd told him a little about
how her
powers affected her mind, but nothing in
detail.
"You were
really hoping it would heal the scars. I
can feel
that in my head." That came out in a
whisper,
and Logan knew that it was a signal she
wanted serious
conversation.
"Sorry that
didn't work."
"Me too.
I wish you didn't have to look at them, I
wish that
somehow, they'd just go away. But I kind of
knew the
touching thing wouldn't work. That would
just be
too simple, you know, poof - scars gone.
Things don't
work that way." Logan reached out a hand
to stroke
her hair and scooted closer to her. He
always had
the urge to comfort her when she said
things like
that, but he'd learned early on that
sometimes
words didn't help. Little touches, small
signs of
affection, seemed to work much better.
"They're
permanent. I know that, deep down. To tell
you the
truth, I don't remember how I looked before,
not really.
I was twelve when they took me. I don't
have any
pictures or anything. I don't remember being
without
them, not much, not any more."
"I don't
remember bein' without the claws either.
Those're
permanent too, somethin' that was done to
me." This
was the kind of talking he'd never done
with anyone
else, the kind of talking he could never
imagine
doing with anyone but Marie. "I'm glad I
killed all
those fuckers who did that to you."
"I killed
all the people who were hurting you back
there. There's
no one left alive." Those words came
out in a
fierce little whisper. Marie's eyes burned
with remembered
anger and resolve.
"They needed
killin'," Logan responded, his hand
tangling
deeper into her hair and beginning to caress
her scalp.
"Just wish you hadnta been the one to do
it. You
don't need anymore shit in your life. I
wantcha
to stay in a safe spot from now on, got it,
Marie?"
"I've only
ever feel safe when I'm with you."
"Guess that
means I'll hafta stick close to ya."
Marie smiled
at that. "You can keep me outta trouble,
huh?"
"I really
missed you when you were gone. I cried the
first night
you didn't come over. I - nobody told me
what happened,
not until days later." Her expression
stayed even,
almost light, but her voice grew husky.
"When I
found out, I started looking. I don't know
what I would've
done if I hadn't found you. I felt -
I felt so
all alone without you. I know you're - you
like to
do your own thing, but when you came to see me
every night,
I really felt - " Her restraint broke,
and a few
tears spilled down. "I'm sorry."
"It's OK."
Logan's other hand found its way to
Marie's
stomach, and he almost unconsciously began
stroking
her there. "I did think about that when I
was in there.
I thought - what's Marie doin' now? I
wondered
who you found to talk to and who was lookin'
in on ya
when I wasn't there."
"Nobody,"
she answered. That hadn't helped slow the
tears. "I
really meant it when I said you're all I
have."
Logan sighed.
"Well, you've got me for the duration,
Marie. I
ain't goin' nowhere. Not voluntarily,
anyway."
They exchanged dark smiles at that. "You
stick close
to me too, OK? No more goin' off on your
own and
doin' stuff like this. You're - I don't even
wanna think
'bout somethin' happenin' to ya." The
truth was
that she was the only thing important to
him, the
only thing without which he couldn't function
well. In
his own way, he relied on her every bit as
much she
did on him. The nightly visits, the talks,
the feeling
of having something that was his own,
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