Disclaimer: The author does not own any of these characters.
He watched her movements closely. She was mesmerizing him and he knew it. He was certain the right thing to do was to just walk away, but he simply could not force himself to take the necessary steps. He couldn't leave. She wiped the steam from the mirror and tightened the slipping belt holding her robe closed before unwinding the towel draped around her hair. She ran her fingers through her hair to ensure the absence of tangles. Her movements eased the robe down her shoulders slightly and he felt his breath hitch. She picked up a comb and emerged through the open door to the hallway beyond. She didn't notice him standing in the shadows as she entered her bedroom, leaving the door cracked.
He tentatively followed and knocked on the doorframe before following her in. She sat with her back to him, looking over her left shoulder to see who had knocked. The robe bared a little more shoulder and her dewy skin with its pink tint from her shower had his heart beating a little quicker. "Here, hand me that," he calmly requested, reaching around her to take the comb from her slender hand.
"I didn't hear you," she quietly murmured, sighing a bit as he began slow, long strokes through her hair. "That feels so good, sugar," she moaned in a breathy voice that made his pulse stumble for a moment. He paused slightly before continuing the languorous caress of the comb through her now sleek tresses. Finally he admitted the job was done and reluctantly set aside the comb.
With boneless fluidity, she sank back against his broad chest and let her head rest on his stalwart shoulder. "I can't tell you how great it is to have you around all the time now." His only response was a grunt. She tilted her head to look up at his stoic features. "I used to miss you so much," she confessed softly.
His hard face softened in the way he only allowed when it came to her, his hand lifting to fondle a lock of damp, silky hair, twisting it around his fingers. "Same here." That was about as tender and emotional as he ever allowed himself to act. He heard a disbelieving snort and caught her cynical expression out of the corner of his eye. He twisted her in his arms and looked at her dead-on. "Marie, I wouldn't lie to you. I mean what I say, darlin'." He refused to release her from his steady gaze until she sent him a sweet, slight smile and a nod of acknowledgement.
"Is it hard staying put?" she asked, shifting away slightly to face him fully.
He inhaled deeply before confessing, "Not as hard as I thought it'd be." Not so hard with you to share things with, he thought.
"Are you really doing okay," she wanted to know, but he heard the hesitance in her husky voice. When he looked confused, she clarified. "I mean, without Jean and all…"
He sighed and leaned back against her headboard. "You know, I cared for Jeannie… a lot. That wasn't a secret. It wasn't like everybody thought, though. She was beautiful, inside and out, and I admit I was attracted." He noted the way her hand fidgeted revealing how uncomfortable she was with their conversation even though she never tore her eyes from his face. She smirked knowingly and tapped her temple reminding him that she still had a fair bit of his psyche in her mind. She knew how hot he'd thought the deceased woman was when they'd first met. Beneath lowered lids, he carefully studied everything about her as he kept talking; wanting to know each and every reaction she had to his admission. "We were friends, though. Nothing more. Getting a rise out of Scooter just made it too fun to stop. I'm not saying I would have kicked her out of my bed or anything, but it would have been sex and nothing more than that. She knew the truth. My heart was already given before I ever met her." He could see each flit of confusion, humor at his comment about Scott, and soul-deep sadness at the end.
"Oh. I didn't realize…" Her voice faded away as she grappled with his words. He could tell she wanted to ask. Her desire to know who'd managed to wrap the Wolverine's heart up in her delicate, but strong hands was powerful. He wasn't going to make it easy for her, though. He'd carried this secret for so long, buried it deep within since you couldn't be too careful in a house full of people, some with ability to read minds or share emotions, that it was second nature to him now.
"Well," she finally managed around the lump in her throat, "she must be a very special person."
"Yeah. She is pretty incredible. She never stops surprising me. Makes me do and feel things I'd pretty much given up on. Thought I was too far gone to be that… human."
Her eyes were blurry with tears until the last moment. The anger that suddenly flared in them was like a flaming inferno that suddenly erupted in the back of her eyes. "Don't you ever say anythin' lahk that agin! Nevah, Logan!" Now the tears spilled delicately down her flawless, creamy cheeks, flushed with resentment. He loved the way her accent thickened to that syrupy drawl when her emotions got intense, but wasn't stupid enough to let his pleasure show. Little Marie was riled up, but good. "Ya' are one of the kahndest-hearted, most generous, funny, gentle, and genuine men I've evah met and Ah'm not gonna sit heah and let ya' run ya'self down thet way. So, ef ya' can't do enny betta' than thet, ya' jest… shut the pie hole!"
He watched the flames shooting from her intent gaze, the heaving of her chest as her outrage carried her away, and almost choked on laughter when she finished up her impromptu lecture. Wanting to calm her down, he reached out a hand to rest upon her robe-clad shoulder. "Marie, darlin', settle down. I was just calling it like I see it." She huffed, ready to start in again, but he cut her off. "You don't know what it means to know that someone could ever say things like that about me and actually mean it, darlin'." She immediately relaxed her rigidly held shoulders and her brows stopped furrowing quite so deeply, easing the deep creases in her forehead. "But we've got to be honest here. I'm not that man. I'm hard, distant, a loner. I don't let people in and I look out for number one," he clarified with a thumb pointed at his own chest.
"Bull." His eyes widened in his normally impervious face at her stark declaration.
"Wh-what?" Immediately, Logan cleared his throat and assumed his usual impassive air.
"You heard me. That's the biggest load of bull droppings I ever heard." Seeing his gaze narrow, ready to retaliate, she enumerated on her fingers, "First, hard men don't refuse to leave young girls on the side of the road after they hide away in those men's trailers." Seeing his mouth open, she continued without pause. "Second, a distant man doesn't promise said girl he will protect her. He doesn't chase her down when she's stupid enough to run away and puts them both at terrible risk. He doesn't put his life on the line time after time for her with no regard for his own safety, if he's 'looking out for number one'." She refused another attempted interruption from him with ruthless disregard for the tough-guy image she was tearing to shreds with her words. "And third, a distant man doesn't keep that promise and then go on to become a teacher and protector for not just an entire school, but for people who don't even know he's doing it and may not appreciate it if they did. He doesn't live in a house filled with more than thirty people and have relationships with each and every one whether deep or shallow. So… don't pull that big, rugged man crap with me, Logan. I know better." She huffed once and then stared at him steadily.
A deep grunt was his only response. She moved to lean beside him and then nestled her head against his very solid, furred chest. She breathed deeply; inhaling all those smells that he exuded that made his scent his own. Nuzzling even closer, her eyes drifted shut on her sigh. "M'rie?" She felt the rumble resonate through him; her lips tilting in appreciation of the comfort the sound gave her every time she experienced it.
"Mm?"
"You sure are feisty sometimes." She gave a light giggle and even lighter smack at his shoulder. "You know better than to say that stuff in front of anyone else, right?"
"Yeah, I know." Her low tones let him know how close she was to letting sleep claim her.
"Go to sleep now."
"Stay. Please?" she mumbled, her hands tensing where they lay against his chest and side.
Just like before, he knew he was indulging in actions he shouldn't, but the pull was irresistible. "I'll be right here, darlin'."
A final burrowing against him and she drifted into unconsciousness against the warmth of his thin shirt. Logan crossed his ankles, settling lower against the pillows behind them to get more comfortable, before wrapping his arms low around her waist and hips, his hands clasped loosely. Marie's hair was drying now and had gotten tangled up a bit in his muttonchops, but he didn't brush it away. The silky locks, their fresh, fruity aroma mingling with the bath gel she'd used and her own unique scent with each breath he took, were somehow soothing. He felt his muscles relaxing and his mood mellowing in response. Soon he, too, fell peacefully asleep … something which was unusual for the Wolverine.
He began to stir restlessly as his dark dream brought him relentlessly back to the moment when he'd killed her. He could see that she wasn't Jeannie anymore, but that didn't change his deep remorse at what he knew he had to do. Suddenly the familiar sequence of events, all the sensations he'd experienced, shifted unexpectedly. In his dream a soft, cool breeze blew across the side of his face. The lilting voice of an angel calmed him while a gentle touch, like few touches he could remember ever feeling, smoothed across his heated cheek and throat. He felt like he was floating and then landed in a glen in a forest that was familiar even while he knew he'd never visited there before. His head was pillowed against the softest cushion and he mellowed to blissful nothingness again.
Marie sighed with relief from her position half buried beneath her best friend and hero. She hated his nightmares almost as much as he did. She hated sharing so many of them. This one was different, though. She could sense it. Marie had her suspicions as to what was making him so restless tonight. Talking about Jean had probably brought it back. Marie was just thankful she'd been able to calm him without waking him up. A few whispered words and gentle strokes seemed to take care of things as that's when he shifted down the bed and laid his head contentedly on her breasts, protected from her dangerous skin by her cotton robe and satin nightgown. She was so thankful for her habit of leaving a spare set of gloves on the nightstand. Marie kept lightly brushing her fingers against him until she was certain her was fully relaxed again.
Her mind wandered and she let it. Something about the haze of pre-dawn light filtering through the window and the utter stillness of the mansion provoked her to dwell on things she normally avoided thinking on too much. She wasn't a fool. She knew precious few people understood or even really accepted the unusual closeness shared by herself and Logan.
Scott, for reasons she couldn't understand, had insisted on seeing something dirty and just plain wrong about it. Kind of makes you wonder what types of things ran through his own mind, she thought. With Jean it had been hard to tell what she thought. Sometimes Marie thought she'd read disapproval in Jean's glances, other times it looked remarkably like jealousy which was crazy since Jean was one of the most beautiful and refined women Marie had ever seen. There were even moments when Marie could have sworn Jean not only approved, but wanted to encourage the bond between Wolverine and Rogue. Most of her friends saw Logan only as Wolverine; an intimidating beast that would probably just up and rip her to shreds one day. She snorted at the idea that Logan would ever hurt her. When he stirred at the sound, she soothed him back to peace by running her gloved fingers through his hair. He simply rubbed his face deeper against her chest and gave a small, low purr.
Her smile would have reminded one of the Mona Lisa, had there been anyone to see it. Professor Xavier had probably understood more clearly than anyone. It wasn't his powers that made him able to appreciate their relationship for what it was so much as his incredible wisdom and insight that gave him clearer vision than most. He'd never interfered and, she knew, had even kept others from doing so on more than one occasion. Running a very close second to the professor was Storm. Whenever she looked on them together she simply wore a deep, inscrutable look that could mean anything, but never projected even the slightest disapproval. It was more of a calm acceptance and some kind of weird anticipation that Marie didn't really understand.
Bobby had finally gotten on her nerves so badly about her and Logan that it had started coming between them. A few months ago when he told her she'd have to choose between his love for her and her friendship with 'that old man', she'd found the decision so easy that it was probably a good thing it had happened. Marie's thoughts were getting fuzzy now. Her eyes felt a little gritty and were starting to burn. She shut them and found instant relief. Comforting sleep was settling around her once more when Logan's heavy, muscled arm draped across her and settled them more securely together. Yeah, that choice had been a no-brainer. She wasn't going to let anything come between her and the man who was her friend, mentor, and family… the one person in whom she had total, utter, unshakable confidence.
With one final moment of blinding honesty she admitted that deep down, she felt for him all those things the others suspected and so much more. She'd never known love could run so deep, be so all consuming. Most of the time she kept those things shoved down, though. Logan was too primal, too virile, and too physical to be locked in a relationship with someone who could never really touch or be touched. Marie also openly acknowledged that he saw her as a kid, far too young for him to see as anything else. He'd cast himself in the role of guardian and was very firmly keeping himself there. It was a comfort zone thing for him, she supposed. Her sigh was so deep he was moved from the position he'd chosen and shifted into place atop her with an irritable grunt. Her fingers twined tightly in his dark locks as she fell asleep for another hour or so.