Fic: Alter-Eighteen: The Inescapable X: 2/3: NC-17 [L/R]
- Disclaimers etc. in part 1
< > indicates thoughts
~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation
// // indicates dreams
When they arrived at the mansion, Rogue followed Jean and Hank into the
med lab, and had to be forced out while they examined the comatose
Ororo walked her to the showers, where Rogue stripped off her torn and
bloody clothes. She stepped into the hot spray and felt her body relax.
As she washed, she became fascinated with the skin on her belly.
She had seen her insides ripped out, had felt her lung deflate when a
rib punctured it, and two hours later, she stood in the shower, fully
It brought home to her, once again, how fragile life is. All those
organs and systems silently working away underneath her deadly skin --
it was so easy to damage them, and so hard to put them back together
again. Didn't people realize that? she wondered, thinking of the myriad
ways she'd seen people abuse their own bodies.
She'd been amazingly stupid -- and the Logan in her head growled his
agreement with that -- and then amazingly lucky that he'd been willing
to give so much of himself to save her. For the first time since her
mutation manifested, she was grateful for it. It had saved her life.
Now she just had to make sure it hadn't taken his.
Hopping out of the shower, quickly toweling off and pulling on clean
sweats, she made her way back into the med lab.
Logan was stretched out on an exam table-cum-bed, covered from neck to
toes with a sheet. Jean was adjusting one of the numerous machines
hooked up to him, while Hank sat at the computer.
"How, how is he?" she asked fearfully. She could see his chest rising
and falling, and while that had been enough to soothe her back at the
Lion's Den, she needed more concrete reassurances now.
"He'll be fine," Jean said. "How are you?"
"Fine. Good." She lifted her shirt, exposing her fully-healed stomach.
"Not even a mark to show for it."
Jean nodded her chin at an exam table and pulled on a pair of latex
gloves. "Hop up and let me take a look."
"I'm fine, Jeannie," she growled, her eyes widening as she realized that
it hadn't been she who'd responded.
Jean bit her lower lip thoughtfully, then removed her gloves. "Yes.
Well. Hank -- Hank will give you a quick once-over, okay?" And, tossing
the gloves into the garbage, she quickly walked out.
"I'm sorry," Rogue whispered, "I just --"
"She knows, my dear," the furry blue doctor replied. "Logan's presence
brings back unpleasant memories for all of us."
"Storm told me. And, and, it's here now." She tapped the side of her
head. "Some of it, anyway. He was so sad -- so angry he couldn't do
anything to fix it." She felt tears welling up in her eyes at his old
sorrow. "I think that's why he had to fix me. I -- it's confusing," she
finished, dropping her head and letting her wet hair fall and hide her
"I'm sure it is, Rogue. But Charles and Jean will help you assimilate
Logan's remembrances much as they have done with Magneto. No need to
worry," Hank said, and his matter-of-fact tone was very comforting.
He listened to her heart and lungs, felt her abdomen for signs that
anything was wrong, and when he found nothing, pronounced her in good
"Can I--" she nodded toward the bed where Logan lay.
"Of course. I'll be in my office if you need me."
She pulled a chair over to Logan's side and sat down, amazed that she
could hear his heart beating. She concentrated, and in a few minutes,
regulated her own heartbeat to match his. It was even more comforting
than Hank's kind words.
Slipping the sheet down to his waist, she ran gloved fingers over the
perfection of his chest and stomach, taking advantage of the opportunity
she knew she'd probably never get if he were awake.
She was aware of his inexplicable feelings toward her, and his conflict
over them, but she wasn't quite sure what it all meant. She wasn't sure
how much was simply wishful thinking on her part and how much was really
She pondered her shower-thoughts. Life was precious, fragile. <Even the
mighty Wolverine can be brought low,> she thought, looking at her hands,
encased in blue cotton, against his olive skin. <And I'm the thing that
can do it.>
She pulled the sheet back up over him to protect him, then laid her head
down on his chest and cried.
Jean found her asleep in that position later that morning.
"Rogue. Rogue wake up," she said.
"What? Huh? Oh, Jeannie. I mean, Dr. Grey. I mean--"
"It's okay, Rogue. Go get some rest. We'll let you know when he's
awake," Jean said gently. She understood the younger woman's need for
contact with the man who had touched her. Having someone else in your
head was difficult, and Jean promised herself that she wouldn't let her
own feelings for Logan -- whatever they might be (and even she wasn't
sure at the moment) -- get in the way of helping Rogue.
It was late afternoon. He woke slowly, to the familiar scent of
antiseptic and Jean Grey.
He was surprised. He thought he'd never come back to Salem Center, and
certainly that he'd never see Jean again, but when he opened his eyes,
there she was.
She looked good; older, certainly, but more serene than when he'd seen
her last. He wondered if he was dreaming, but then it all came flooding
back when Jean said, "That was a very brave thing you did."
Marie. "Did it work? Is she okay?"
A smile. One that he thought he'd never see again. "She's fine. She's
picked up a few of your more -- charming characteristics, but other than
that, she's as good as new."
He grunted in satisfaction. "Told her she would be."
"How are you feeling?" A question rife with meaning.
He went with the literal. "Fantastic."
"Seriously. Best sleep I've had in ages." He didn't say it but she knew
what he meant -- no nightmares. He sat up, pulling the sensors off his
chest, before she could stop him.
"I need to examine you," she said in what he always thought of as her
"Is that what they're calling it these days?" he answered without
thinking. It was so easy to fall back into old habits.
And that was the "I'm annoyed so don't think your charm is going to win
me over" voice. He was almost home free.
"Fine, Jeannie. You wanna play doctor, let's go." She opened her mouth
to say something and then snapped it shut. He remembered that things
were different now, and suddenly felt uncomfortable. <God, what a stupid
thing to say.> "I-- I'm just gonna get dressed and check on Marie,
"The kid. Rogue. Whatever she's calling herself. Marie."
"Marie," Jean repeated, this time in a whisper. How was it that, in less
than an hour's time, Logan had gotten Rogue's real name from her, when
they'd known her for more than two years and she'd never revealed it?
She could feel the headache beginning behind her eyes. She couldn't deal
with the romantic wreckage Logan would most certainly leave in his wake.
She would have to have a talk with Rogue, and soon.
"Yeah." The silence stretched again and he slipped off the table. "My
A pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt came floating at him. "The blood
wouldn't come out," she said, forestalling his question. He nodded,
anger rising again at the thought of Creed spilling Marie's blood so
Jean turned her back to him and he dressed quickly. The awkwardness was
palpable now; he could feel it against his skin, almost taste it on the
roof of his mouth. A million things raced through his mind. He wanted to
apologize for everything, wanted to start over, get at least some
indication that she didn't hate him.
She spoke at the same time, still facing away from him. "Logan, Rogue is
very young. I know she seems quite mature, but she's only nineteen.
She's very shy and somewhat lacking in self-confidence. I don't think
"Would be good for her," he interrupted grimly, all hope of salvaging
some vestige of their former friendship gone. "Of course not. I'm not
good enough for anyone, am I, Jean?"
She was taken aback by his vehemence. She turned. "I didn't mean that,
Logan. I just -- you need to be careful with her. I don't know if Ororo
explained how her mutation works--"
"She absorbs mutations."
"She absorbs much more than that," Jean said sharply. "She has a mind
full of your thoughts and memories. She manifests some of your
personality traits, as well. You're in her head now, Logan."
He stood, stunned at the revelation. Storm *hadn't* told him that. "I'm,
I'm sorry. I didn't know," he choked out. "I need to see her."
He walked out, leaving the doctor staring after him, rubbing her
<God,> he thought. <Now I remember why I didn't want to come back here.>
His guilt at the way his relationship with Jean had ended surfaced, and
he could tell she wasn't reacting well to his feelings for Marie. Not
that he'd even mentioned them, but that lecture hadn't been for nothing.
He thought then, about what she'd said regarding Marie's mutation, and
had to work to stifle a grin. That meant she knew how he felt.
Which would have been more comforting if he'd been able to figure it out
himself. He'd never been one for examining his feelings, though, and he
was willing to go with his gut on this one.
He wanted Marie and she wanted him. There was something between them
that needed to be explored.
Everything else was secondary.
The mansion was much as he remembered it. He found a pair of black
leather gloves that looked like they'd fit in the locker room, and then
he set off to find Marie.
Using his nose, he tracked her to a room on the second floor, where the
older students, the ones who didn't go off to college, lived.
He knocked and she called, "Come in."
Her eyes widened when she saw him in the doorway, and before he knew
what hit him, she'd flung herself into his arms and hugged him tightly.
"You're okay. Thank God, you're okay. I was so worried that I'd killed
He stroked her hair gently. "Takes a lot more than that to kill me,
Marie," he rumbled, enjoying the feel of her body pressed to his. Then
he pulled back. "How are you?"
She smiled brightly and, without the slightest hint of
self-consciousness, took off her shirt.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
He stared at her full, high breasts and felt his mouth water and his
"Good as new, just like you said," she answered. "See?" And she unzipped
her jeans to show him her abdomen.
She wasn't wearing any underwear either. He wondered if that was one of
the traits she'd picked up from him or if she always went without. It
was highly arousing to think that there had been nothing between them
last night but two layers of denim and leather.
He reached out and put his hand on her belly. His fingers splayed out,
covering the soft flesh that looked as if it had never been touched, let
alone ripped open less than twenty-four hours earlier. He felt her
breathe in sharply as he slowly caressed her, mesmerized by the contrast
of black leather on pale skin.
His other hand snaked around her, cupping her bottom and pulling her
closer as his fingers continued to trace lazy circles on her abdomen.
Her breathing was ragged now, and he could smell her desire as he dipped
lower into her jeans, tangling his fingers in the dark curls of her sex.
Her eyes and her head dropped as the sensation of being touched
overwhelmed her; she leaned back into his hand for support, her hands
pushing her jeans down over her hips to give him better access.
"Logan," she hissed, licking her lips. "Please..."
He walked her back to the bed and gently eased her down upon it, his
eyes feasting on the flush spreading down her breasts. She raised her
hips, urging him to do more than simply rest his hand on her groin.
"Marie," he whispered, sinking down on the bed beside her, pushing her
hair off her forehead. He stared down into her eyes, glazed with desire,
and saw her complete and utter trust in him.
He jerked his hand away as if he'd been stung.
She was young, innocent, and he was about to take advantage of her
newfound hero-worship for him.
He really was the despicable jackass everyone thought he was.
"Logan?" She reached for his hand and he pulled away. She flinched at
that, and he realized that he'd just hurt her again. She rolled off the
bed and quickly donned her shirt and a pair of gloves.
He hadn't even noticed her hands were bare.
"It's okay," she said dully. "I understand."
He jumped up and cupped her chin, so she had to look at him. "I don't
think you do, kid. I don't want--"
"Me. It's okay. I get it. You don't have to spell it out."
His hands went to her shoulders. He wanted to shake her. "I thought you
had me in your head," he said. She nodded. "And what am I saying?"
She snorted. "Mostly just, 'Mine.' You're not real clear up there,
Logan. It's not like you're a whole other person. It's more like I know
how you feel about things and I can see some of your memories. You're
not talking to me, or anything. That'd just be *weird*."
"Marie, this whole thing is weird." He sighed. "I do want you. Really. I
wouldn't have -- I wouldn't have touched you if I didn't. But you're
"And I have deadly skin and could hurt you." She sounded tired, a one
hundred and eighty degree turnaround from when he'd walked into her
room. "I understand. I've heard it before." He just stood and looked at
her. "I think you should leave now."
He wanted to say something, do something to make her feel better.
He sighed and left the room. She closed the door and he settled on the
floor outside, the sound of her sobs tearing him up inside.
Rogue dropped onto the bed and sobbed hysterically. <Stupid, stupid,
stupid,> she told herself over and over. She'd flung herself at him and
he'd rejected her. Whatever this "Mine" shit he kept feeding her in her
head was, it obviously wasn't what he was really thinking or feeling. Or
maybe he thought of her as a *daughter* or something. "Oh, God, no," she
groaned, covering her face with a pillow, wondering if she'd just
recreated a scene out of a Greek tragedy.
She tried to sort him out in her head, but her own emotions were
clouding everything, and she knew she wouldn't be able to meditate as
the Professor had taught her.
<He probably still loves Jean,> she thought darkly, just before drifting
off into sleep, where she dreamt that her room was invaded by mice and
she wasn't able to run away from them.
He was still sitting outside her door when Xavier found him.
"Come with me, please, Logan," the Professor said, evincing no surprise
that the Canadian had camped outside Rogue's door.
Logan unfolded himself from the floor and said, "Storm said you have a
proposition for me?"
Xavier nodded. As they moved down the hallway to the elevator, he said,
"Yes. Regardless of whether you agree, though, I want you to know this.
I've found what I think is a solid lead on the people who experimented
on you. I have the file in my office."
Logan felt the excitement jolt through him. He'd given up the search
five years ago, when he'd first joined the X-Men. He tried to hide his
eagerness, knowing that trying to hide things from the telepath was
usually futile. "And?" he asked nonchalantly.
"And, while you are searching, I'd like you to make contact with some of
my people, possibly forge new connections out in the field."
Logan raised an eyebrow. That wasn't too much to ask, he admitted to
himself. <I could do that.>
~Yes, I rather thought you could,~ came Xavier's amused response in his
"You know how I feel about that," Logan growled.
Xavier simply smiled. "You are willing to help us?"
"Once an X-Man, always an X-Man, Logan," Xavier said.
"Like the Mafia, huh?" Logan thought of Michael Corleone and quirked an
"Or the Catholic Church," Xavier replied with a chuckle. Then he became
serious again. "That was a very brave thing you did, with Rogue."
They reached his office and Xavier rolled behind the desk, while Logan
paced in front of it.
"Why does everyone sound so surprised at that?"
"Not surprised. Just -- concerned. Rogue is a very special young
"Who's too young and too good for the likes of me. Yeah, Chuck, Jeannie
already gave me the lecture. I'm waiting for Scooter to pipe up, and
then this day will be complete."
"I'm not going to judge your romantic choices, Logan, nor Rogue's.
However, just be aware that her mutation is severe, and its effects on
her can be traumatic."
"You mean having me in her head."
"You, Magneto, other people she's touched. Jean and I have been training
her, over the years she's been here, to deal with their presences. But
as she's working through the memories and personalities -- learning to
store them away -- she grows very attached to the person she's
"So you're saying that this thing between us isn't real? It's just her
mutation? What about--"
"I am saying nothing of the sort, Logan. If you would permit me to
finish?" Logan nodded. "I *am* asking you to be careful of her. We care
for her deeply. We were unable to protect her when she first came
here -- Magneto got hold of her, and she almost died."
Logan nodded. He'd heard about the incident at the Statue of Liberty
that resulted in Magneto's capture. He figured the X-Men had been
"It took a long time for her to recover, and she is rather special to
all of us. She was on the run when we found her -- Scott and Ororo saved
her from Sabretooth. She has become a younger sister to them, and to
Jean as well. They're very protective of her, as am I."
"And not real fond of me," Logan interrupted, his voice dry. "I don't
know, Chuck." He sat down, pulling a cigar from his pocket and sticking
it in his mouth for a moment, taking the time to think through what he
wanted to say. Removing the cigar, he said, "Do you believe -- This is
going to sound nuts, but, do you think people ever just *connect*? I
mean, before that prick Creed showed up, Marie and I -- there was this
*thing*, Chuck. I never felt anything like it before. I mean --"
"Bells rang and angels sang?"
Logan growled. "You're not funny." He stood and resumed pacing. "I'm
serious. I'm outta my depth here."
Xavier took pity on him. While Logan had left under a cloud, their
friendship had never suffered because of it. "I can't tell you what
you're feeling, Logan, but I believe you once told me that your gut is
rarely wrong. Having seen that proven in action, I can only give your
advice back to you. Follow your gut -- or your heart, my friend. Just,
please, be wary of hurting Rogue."
Rogue woke around midnight, her eyes heavy and swollen.
Craving a cigar and a beer, she headed down to the kitchen. She knew
Scott kept some fancy import in the fridge, though something --
Logan? -- told her she'd be happy enough with a Labatt's Blue.
She made it to the darkened kitchen without meeting anyone, and had just
settled down with a bottle of Heineken and a cigarette stolen from
Johnny's secret stash when Jean arrived.
"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Jean asked sympathetically.
"Slept too much."
"Those things will kill you," Jean ventured, after Rogue let the silence
stretch out between them. "If 'Ro doesn't get you first for smoking in
Rogue shrugged. "I'm feeling lucky." And she was, overall.
"Cheating death is a heady experience," Jean said.
Rogue raised an eyebrow, a gesture that was painfully familiar to Jean,
though the girl had never done it before. "That's rude, don't you think?
Looking into my head like that?"
"I didn't have to look, Rogue. You're projecting quite strongly."
"Oh, so now it's my fault?"
Jean rubbed her forehead. She had a feeling her headache wouldn't be
going away any time soon.
"Don't call me that!" Rogue jumped up, knocking the beer over and
catching it just before it spilled.
"Fine, *Rogue.* What you're feeling now -- it isn't real. It's, it's
part of your mutation. Remember how you felt about Magneto after the
Statue of Liberty?"
Rogue had walked around claiming she was going to join the Brotherhood,
because Charles's dream was foolish. She'd also flirted coyly with the
Professor, creeping out the younger students.
"This is different," Rogue insisted.
"No, it's not. You identify with whomever you absorb," Jean said,
slipping into doctor mode to keep calm. "It's just manifesting
differently this time. The mechanism is the same."
Rogue's eyes grew crafty. "Then wouldn't I be hitting on you, instead of
"With Erik, I relived his attachment," she made air quotes at the word,
"to the Professor. So, wouldn't it follow that, if my feelings for Logan
were the result of absorbing him, I should really be crushing on you,
not him? Hmm?" In her eagerness to make her point, Rogue felt no shame
in admitting her feelings for Logan.
Jean flushed. "Are you saying Logan is still in love with me?" Her voice
was a mixture of disbelief and sadness, tinged with regret.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened with you guys. I really am. But
that was five years ago. Logan is sorry too, though he'll probably never
say it. This thing with him and me -- it's got nothing to do with you or
"I know you believe that, Rogue, but when he leaves, you'll see that I'm
right." She laid a sympathetic hand on Rogue's arm. "Please think about
what I'm saying. You're only going to get hurt. Logan is older and much
more experienced. A girl like you--"
Rogue shook the hand off her arm. "I don't know where you get off
telling me this shit, Jeannie. You've got a lot of nerve. You don't know
what you're talking about, so I'd really appreciate it if you stayed the
*hell* out of my business." She stomped to the door. "And out of my
head," she said, firing a parting shot over her shoulder.
Jean slumped over the table, her headache worse than before.
The next morning found Logan once again closeted with the Professor, and
Rogue catching up with her friends, some of whom had known Logan during
his first stay at the school.
"Christ, his combat training class was worse than most of the fights
we've been in," St. John noted.
"But damn, he looked hot," Jubes said. "He'd get all sweaty and take off
his shirt..." She trailed off, lapsing into memory as Kitty and Dani
nodded in agreement.
"He'd take his shirt off at the drop of a hat," Dani said. "It was
almost magical, the way his shirts just disappeared."
Jean overheard them talking in the rec room and walked away, looking for
someone who wasn't interested in discussing the Wolverine.
She found Ororo out in the gardens, overseeing the staff, who were
preparing for the spring planting.
"You look troubled," the weather goddess observed.
Jean grinned ruefully. "Nothing gets by you, 'Ro."
Ororo smiled in return. "It perpetuates my image as an all-knowing
goddess." That won a laugh. "So, do you want to talk about it?" Ororo
sat down on a bench and patted the seat next to her.
Jean sighed. "It's nothing... It's everything."
Jean shook her head. "No. It's Rogue." She ran a hand through her
perfectly coiffed hair, ruining the look it had taken her thirty minutes
with the blow dryer to achieve. "She was sitting in the kitchen last
night, with a cigarette and a beer. We argued -- It could have been
"It will pass."
"Yes, but until it does... I know he'll be leaving soon, and it will
break her heart. She thinks there's some sort of bond between them, 'Ro,
some mystical love connection. She's going to get hurt -- badly -- and
she won't listen to me."
"Would you have listened, at her age?"
A brief, mirthless chuckle. "I guess not."
Ororo bit her lip, obviously choosing her words carefully. "There was
definitely a spark between them, before Creed interrupted," she said at
"Et tu, Ororo?" Jean was irritated. "She's nineteen years old, for God's
sake. Granted, she's very pretty, but there's *no* way she'd be able to
hold him, if he even is interested, which I highly doubt."
"Are you still in love with him?"
"What? Of course not! I --" Jean leaned forward, resting her head on her
knees, for a moment reminding Ororo of the teenager she'd been -- they'd
both been -- when they first met. Then she sat up and, once again, was
the poised, confident Dr. Jean Grey. "No, Ororo. I realize I sound
childish, but it's not because I want him. He and I -- we couldn't give
each other what we needed. We had an attraction, nothing more, and that
burned itself out." She swallowed. "I just don't want to see Rogue
broken when he leaves."
"Maybe she is stronger than you think."
Jean shrugged. "Maybe, but I doubt it. He's -- he's all-consuming when
he wants you, and then, when he's not interested anymore, it's as if you
don't exist. It's, it's very hard."
"He isn't one to play games, Jean. He won't lead her on."
"He won't have to," Jean replied darkly. "He shows his appreciation for
a woman by flirting. You said yourself he was chatting her up at that
bar. But it doesn't mean anything." She stood and flung her arms wide.
"You or I would understand, but Rogue -- she took it seriously.
"Despite what he thinks, I know he'd never take advantage of her. But
she'll see that as a rejection. *That's* what I'm afraid of. There's no
good way for this to end for Rogue."
"You don't need to worry, Jeannie. I already fucked it up."
She whirled to see Logan standing on the grass. "'Ro?" she said in a
Storm held up her hands. "I didn't see him until just before he spoke,
Jean." She stood, as well. "I imagine you two have much to discuss.
Jean, don't worry so much. Logan, follow your heart, but know that all
of us love Rogue dearly, and do not wish to see her hurt." And she
strode off toward the house, regal as a lioness.
"The goddess has spoken," Logan muttered.
Jean looked at him, then at the bench, feeling awkward. They had made
love there once, she recalled, blushing, back when the air between them
crackled with lust and they could barely keep their hands off each
other. It had been a short affair that burned hot and fast; it had
cooled quickly in the face of reality, leaving her hollow, alone, and
grieving for her baby. Ashes were the only thing left of that
"He'd have been five this summer," Logan said, his voice subdued.
She'd forgotten how perceptive he was. He hid it beneath the badass
persona, but he knew people as well as anyone she'd ever met. He was a
hunter, and had thoroughly studied his prey.
"Yes." It was little more than a sigh.
"I'm -- dammit, Jeannie, I'm sorry about the whole thing. I was an
asshole. It was-- I never thought of myself as a father before, you
know? It made me wonder if I had kids out there that I never knew, and
that just made me angry. And I'm, I'm sorry I took it out on you. You
didn't deserve it. You needed me, and I fucked up.
"Just like I did with Marie."
"I don't think I want to hear this, Logan," Jean said, resignation
evident on her face. "But you should probably tell me what you did."
He dropped his eyes. "You're right. She's too good, too trusting for
someone like me."
"So you *are* interested in her?"
He gave a sharp bark of what might have been laughter. "Interested?
Jesus, what a freakin' understatement. I think I've found the woman I
wanna spend the rest of my life with, and you ask if I'm *interested*?"
"Okay, first off, stop it with the melodramatic crap. I can't take it,
especially not from you." She ran a hand through her hair again. "And
secondly, are you *insane*?
"Certifiable, Red." He shrugged. "Look and see if you don't believe me."
He grabbed her hand and brought it to the side of his head.
She inhaled sharply. The fact that he was willing to let her read him
was statement enough, but she closed her eyes and opened her mind to
She jerked her hand -- and her mind -- away, overwhelmed by the tumult
of his emotions. Love, lust, a strong desire to protect Rogue and make
amends to her, shaded with regret at his behavior the night before and
five years prior.
Mostly, though, there was a strong sense of connection, completion --
The animal in him had chosen a mate.
Jean collapsed onto the bench, her legs trembling.
"God," she breathed, and it was both an exclamation and a prayer.
He nodded. "I'm in over my head."
She could see the tension in his overly casual stance. "No shit,
That wrung another chuckle out of him, this one less harsh than the
first. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, shoving his hands
into his pockets and hunching his shoulders. "So--"
"Just give her time, Logan. If it's not her mutation, her feelings for
you will still be there when you come back. Just explain why you have to
go and see how she reacts."
"I wasn't planning on coming back."
"If you want to find out the truth about this -- thing between you, I'd
say you have to."
"Yeah, I suppose," he replied, but he didn't sound convinced. He stood
silently for a moment, staring off into the distance. "Thanks, Jean," he
said finally. "I mean it."
She rose and smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I know. Good
She returned to the house, still confused by the feelings flowing
between Logan and Rogue, but some of the tension had left her body and
her headache had eased.
With a firm nod, she decided to be decadent, and spend the rest of the
day in bed, with a book. She deserved a break.
"There's nothing I won't do, but some things are gonna cost you extra."
Mike Kellerman, _Homicide: Life on the Street_
The Muse's Fool - http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
Unfit for Society - http://www.unfitforsociety.net