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Fic: Untouchable Face - 4/? - [L/R, L/J]

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  • victoria p.
    Disclaimers etc. in Part 1 { } indicates POV Untouchable Face Part 4 *** {Logan} I watched Marie carefully the next few weeks. She readjusted fine to the
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 4, 2001
      Disclaimers etc. in Part 1

      { } indicates POV

      Untouchable Face
      Part 4



      I watched Marie carefully the next few weeks. She readjusted fine to the
      routine at Geek Heaven. I knew she would. She's tough. Smart, too. I
      wish she'd let me send her to college. She deserves more than being a
      grease monkey, teaching a bunch of mutie kids how to take their cars

      The night of the wedding, she fell asleep in my lap, and I thought about
      her and me and, well, us. There's always going to be an "us" with me and
      Marie, nothing's going to change that. We're pack-mates, the animal
      inside me insisted. That's the only way I can describe the bond between
      us. It's not hearts and flowers and romance -- it's way deeper than
      that. She's flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone in a way that no one
      else will ever understand. I don't think even she does. I know I didn't,
      for a long time. But it had struck me one night, while I was looking for
      the bastards who put the metal on my skeleton. Even though I'd been with
      Jean for almost three years at that point, I realized I needed to see
      Marie again.

      It's kind of funny how it happened, actually. I was in the cage, letting
      this skinhead get his licks in before I leveled him. I mean, I have to
      make it look good so that people won't catch on and stop letting me
      fight. So I was letting this guy take his shot, and all of a sudden I
      smelled vanilla. Marie used vanilla oil for perfume. Said it was
      comforting. I thought it was sexy as hell. Always made me want to nibble
      on her neck.

      Anyway, I got distracted, thinking of how long it had been since I'd
      seen her, and how much I wanted to see her, even after everything that
      had happened. The skinhead kicked me, then, he kicked me good, and I
      hadn't been expecting it, since I'd been thinking of Marie, so I went
      down. I shook it off, got up slowly, so they'd think I was hurting, and
      knocked him out. Broke his jaw. He's lucky I didn't do more than that.

      I sat at the bar afterwards and the vanilla-scented woman came over. I
      guess I'd been checking her out. I wasn't interested -- I *am* capable
      of being faithful, despite what Scooter says about me -- but damn, she
      smelled good. She made me think of Marie. And that's when it hit me. I
      needed to see her, reassure myself that she was okay. Her scent was
      imprinted on my brain and she smelled like she was mine.

      She smelled like she was mine. That sounds ridiculous, but it's the
      truth. Yeah, the vanilla-woman smelled good, and the scent of Jeannie's
      strawberry shampoo makes me hard as a rock, but Marie, even grimy and
      two weeks from her last shower like she was the first time we met,
      smells like she belongs with me. It's not even about sex, though that
      was great when we were together. It's about being in the right place,
      being where you fit in. Chuck gives all of us a place to call home, but
      me and Marie only needed each other for that before things went bad, and
      everything else was just gravy.

      I'd promised to protect her, and I'd fucked that up royally, but that
      didn't mean I was off the hook. That night, I hopped on the bike and
      headed south like a bat outta hell. She never knew. She'd have been
      madder than a wet hen if she found me spying on her, and I don't even
      want to know what Jeannie would think, but I had to see her.

      I got to New Orleans a couple of days later, and it was pretty easy to
      find her. Despite what everyone thinks, I kept tabs. I always knew when
      a letter from her came; I always managed to get hold of it and read it.
      Scott was pretty particular about his stuff, but the girls left their
      mail lying around. Since she never wrote to me, or called me, I had to
      take whatever I could get. So I knew where she was living.

      I caught her the day she moved out. I watched her load her car with
      boxes. I don't know why she let the Cajun have the house, but she did.
      When she finally pulled out, and drove to her little apartment on the
      outskirts of the Garden District, I followed. I watched as she
      struggled, carrying all the stuff upstairs, until Gambit showed and help
      ed her out. They didn't act like a divorced couple. They laughed and
      joked, but I could smell the tension between them.

      It's hard being around the person you thought was the one. And I never
      doubted that Marie left me because she thought he was the one for her.
      She thought he could give her what I didn't, his undivided attention.
      Apparently, he couldn't, from what I'd read of her letters to Kitty, and
      that made me want to spring out at him and kill him. But I hadn't given
      her that, either. I had stupidly let her get away so I could chase Jean.

      Jean and I have a great thing, but I wonder sometimes, about that day in
      New Orleans; what would have happened if I'd rung her doorbell after
      Gumbo left?

      I didn't, though. Just turned around and went home to my redheaded
      woman. She was surprised I'd gotten back so quickly, and I spent the
      rest of that night proving to her, and to myself, just how right we were

      That memory came back to me at dinner as I listened to Jean chatter on
      about our plans for the next few months. We were taking a vacation -- a
      real, live, get-away-from-the-X-Geeks vacation -- in a month, and she
      was telling Kitty about the bed-and-breakfast she'd found up in Vermont.
      I'd heard it all before, so I focused on Marie. She was smiling and
      laughing like everyone else, and then she wasn't.

      "Wedding?" Jubilee said, and I knew I'd missed something important. "You
      guys are getting married?"

      "We've been talking about it," Jean said, taking my hand and smiling at
      me. I grunted. What could I say? Yeah, we'd talked about it, in the most
      general way. And there was no reason not to, really. Though the look on
      Marie's face made me change my mind. There was a big reason not to.

      "That's, that's great," she said, forcing a smile. She's a trooper, I'll
      give her that. She tried.

      The conversation turned to other things, but her eyes caught and held
      mine before she got up from the table. She was hurt, and I felt guilty.
      I probably should have warned her, except I had no idea Jeannie was
      going to bring it up. It wasn't like we had decided to do it. As far as
      I was concerned, we were still at the talking stage, and I figured it
      might be another three or four years before we got beyond that. I mean,
      shit, I'm the Wolverine. I'm not the kind of man who settles down and
      gets married, for Christ's sake.

      Jean said something to me, then, so I couldn't follow Marie out and
      explain that it was just talk. I didn't see her, but I heard her truck
      pull out of the garage. As soon as I could get away, I went after her. I
      figured I owed her that much.




      Rocky: "I don't think I like you."
      Ginger: "I don't think I care."
      _Chicken Run_


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