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FIC: The Dance [1/1] (L/R) PG

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  • My Destiny Fiction
    TITLE: The Dance AUTHOR: Elektra EMAIL: wxfonline@yahoo.com DISCLAIMER: They all belong to Marvel. Oh yeah, and Fox or something. DISTRIBUTION: If you would
    Message 1 of 1 , Jun 28 7:13 PM
      TITLE: The Dance
      AUTHOR: Elektra
      EMAIL: wxfonline@...
      DISCLAIMER: They all belong to Marvel. Oh yeah, and Fox or something.
      DISTRIBUTION: If you would like permission to archive this story, please
      email: wxfonline@....
      OFFICIAL WEBSITE ADDRESS: http://www.wxfonline.com
      CONTENT: L/R
      RATING: Rated PG.
      SUMMARY: Movieverse. Logan/Rogue angst--more will spoil the story.

      Marie lay in bed watching gentle teardrops of rain drip slowly down the
      windowpane. She could not remember how long she had been there. Within her
      head, the harsh taskmaster of time had ground to a halt like a broken windup
      toy. She felt each moment, each second as it elapsed. Somewhere, beyond
      the hazy shell of her mind, there were people. Voices cried out in pain and
      grief. They didn't matter. None of them mattered. All there was was foggy

      Pressure against her scalp told her that someone else was there. The slow,
      rhythmic patting of a hand being dragged through her snarly locks. Hair.
      She dimly recalled brushing it days ago. Hair that she had tried to pull
      out by the roots in hopes of forgetting. She shifted on the bed, longing to
      avoid the pain that hand caused against the tortured skin of her scalp.

      No pain. Pain required consciousness; and, that was not something she
      wished to experience.

      "Rogue. Marie." The quiet, modulated pitch of Jean's internal voice crept
      into her head. Jean meant well, but she couldn't understand what she was
      doing. The sound of each vowel, every consonant tore at something deep
      inside Marie's chest. Was that her heart? Did she even have one anymore?
      The black yawning chasm behind her eyes told her no, but the pain made her

      Slowly turning her head, two lips, one nose, two eyes, somewhere in the
      depths of her mind, Marie recognized Jean's face. The older woman seemed to
      age before her; or, maybe time was playing tricks again. With a sudden
      pulse, her heart filled with hope. Time. Had it really moved so quickly?

      Hope was no good. No, push it down. Hold it down, tight in a shell in your
      stomach, she told herself. And slowly, she pressed it down and felt her
      heart shrink. The slow and steady push. Numbness and the relief that
      followed was a blessing.

      Marie stared at Jean blankly. Of all people, why did it have to be her?
      She had tried to hate Jean, really tried. But it took too much, the
      emptiness was easier. Over Jean's shoulder, she saw Logan standing in the
      doorway. His eyes seemed to be sparkling at her, reaching right down inside
      her soul--what was left of it.

      She stretched out her hand and beckoned for him to sit on the bed. But, he
      just stood there, eyes silently watching.

      "Rogue, please. Please look at me."

      Jean was pleading with her, but she couldn't seem to care. Logan was there,
      really there. He wasn't looking at Jean. He wasn't looking at Storm or
      Kitty or Jubilee. He was looking at her. Right at her. Marie's lips
      spread in a Cheshire-cat grin that mirrored Logan's own. Jean didn't even
      know he was there. That grin was just for her.

      She tried to will herself to speak. The soft, moist skin on the inner
      surface of her lips scraped against her teeth, but she could hear nothing.
      That strange howling moan couldn't be coming from her. It wasn't right.
      No, he was moving to stand at the foot of her bed, it wasn't her. He had
      heard her, even though she could not hear herself.

      He was there, protecting her, as he said he always would. She was safe.
      None of the rest mattered. Jean, the strange howling, none of it was


      Strong fingers wrapped around her upper arms and she felt her body being
      shaken. Her head flopped back and forth until she could no longer see him.
      Why? Why did they always have to take him away from her? She tried to
      fight back. She imagined her arms swinging around and slapping Jean in the
      face. Several pearly teeth would fly from her lips. But she couldn't will
      the leaden weight of her hands to move.

      Her head hit the pillow with a dull thud. Marie felt Jean rise from the
      bed, heard the heavy pounding of feet moving across the floor and she knew
      was alone again. A familiar, pungent odor assaulted the tender passages of
      her nose. No, not alone. He was there. Somewhere.

      She slowly willed her eyes to open and there he was. Perched on the
      windowsill, he was blowing smoke rings out the window.

      "Hey Kid"

      She smiled at the casual endearment. Though time had changed their lives
      irrevocably, some things never would. No matter where he went, or how long
      he was gone, their bond remained indestructible.

      "Hey, done running?"

      He responded with an enigmatic smile. They both knew the answer to her

      His eyes flicked over to a small package on her bedside table.

      "Did you open it? I left instructions with the Professor. You were
      supposed to have that if--" His voice broke off.

      A slow iciness filled Marie. The smile on her lips dimmed and vanished into
      nothingness. The damn package. The one she would have thrown out of the
      window if it had been from anyone else but him.

      "Yeah," she said, barely recognizing the hushed husky tones of her voice.

      "Did you play it?"

      She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. Marie hadn't been able to find
      the courage to play the CD he'd left in the package. That lack of internal
      strength embarrassed her now. Of all the people to show weakness to. What
      would he think of her?

      The sound of booted feet on wooden floorboards filled the room and still she
      could not bring herself to lift her head and face him. Marie heard the
      gentle rustling of paper and the clattering of plastic on plastic. She
      looked up to see Logan inserting a CD, his CD, into her stereo. After
      fiddling with the treble and bass, he walked across the room and crouched at
      the side of her bed.

      His warm callused palm slid over the back of her hand.

      "May I have this dance?"

      She looked at him, unable to escape the burn of tears in her eyes. The
      Logan in her head told her how difficult it was for him to take a risk like
      this, for him to put his heart out there for her to tread on.

      She nodded, incapable of speech.

      Logan helped her stand when her leaden limbs seemed to make the task

      Marie slid her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. He
      was there, really there. As his arms clasped her to him, she reveled in
      their strength. She had missed their embrace. Somehow, locked to him,
      things felt clearer, her mind less foggy. She had so many questions, but
      they were all unimportant. He was there, that was all that mattered.

      //I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
      You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
      May you never take one single breath for granted,
      GOD forbid love ever leave you empty handed,//

      He swung her around in tight circles, moving slowly in time with the song
      that was so important that he'd entrusted only the Professor to give it to
      her. It was like him, unable to convey this to her himself, so he'd found
      the words in the lyrics of a song.

      //I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
      Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
      Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
      And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

      I hope you dance....I hope you dance.//

      Marie's laughter turned into a broken sob that she was helpless to contain.
      Dance. God, if only she could. Without his arms to hold her up, she
      doubted that she would have found the strength of leave her bed. He seemed
      to understand, and she felt him press her more firmly against his chest.
      His lips brushed her hair.

      In the quiet hush, she heard his voice along with that of the singer.

      //I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
      Never settle for the path of least resistance,
      Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin',
      Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin',
      Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
      When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,
      Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
      And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.//

      Logan lifted her above his head and spun quickly in a circle. Her hair,
      despite the snarls, flew around them in a curtain, the ends caressing his
      cheek where she could not. Her tears dried in the face of the joy in his

      //I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
      I hope you dance....I hope you dance.//

      She was dancing. Dancing.

      * * *

      Jean bent to pick up the piece of paper that had fallen to the floor in the
      midst of hasty package opening. It was a sheet of the Professor's
      stationary. She looked at the heavy masculine scrawl that was sketched
      across the surface and found herself smiling for the first time in weeks.
      How like Logan. One more thing to irritate the Professor before he was

      //I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
      Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
      Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
      And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.//

      She debated reading the letter. But, looking at the recipient, it hardly
      seemed that the girl would notice whether she was standing there reading it
      or not.


      If you're reading this letter-- Well, I guess I don't need to tell you why
      you're reading this letter.

      I'm not usually a letter writing kind of guy, but I have a strange feeling
      about this mission. Something has been gnawing at me all day. There's
      something that I'm forgetting. And, since I usually just go by my
      instincts, I figure I'm probably right.

      I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. I guess I finally hit the
      end of that road I was running down. Anyway, stick with the Professor and
      Jean, hell, even Cyke. They'll be there for you since I can't anymore.

      I figure this is going to be hard on you for awhile. First you lost your
      parents and now this. But, it will get better. And you'll be happy again
      someday soon. Don't be too sad for me. I lived a long time and saw a lot.

      Don't forget to dance.

      I love you.


      Jean looked up at the girl silently dancing around the room, arms filled
      with her phantom hero. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He had already
      given her the gift of the dance.

      //Dance....I hope you dance.
      I hope you dance....I hope you dance.
      I hope you dance....I hope you dance..//

      * I Hope You Dance by Lee Ann Womack

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