As I lay in bed the morning after my birthday, cursing the liquor gods and trying to watch Swordfish to take my mind off my throbbing headache, this little fiction came to me. I realized it had two actors from X-men in it, not just sexy Hugh Jackman. It's just a little blurb about what might happen if the Hugh Jackmans from X-men and Swordfish came into contact. Wouldn't they snipe sarcastically at each other and otherwise annoy everyone around them? With that thought in mind, this was born. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: None of the characters contained within belong to me. They belong to Marvel Comics, Fox Entertainment and Warner Brothers.

Operation: Swordfish

by displacement

Stan stood on top of his shitty trailer, waiting for work to start. He was lazily hitting golf balls off the roof, for lack of anything better to do. Lately everything in his life had come down to waiting. He was waiting for the 3:00 shift. He was waiting for that promotion that would get him off the more dangerous job of greasing pump jacks in the giant field of oil rigs. He was waiting for the court date where he would try to convince the judge his daughter would be better off with him. Life seemed to be slipping past at an alarming rate, but he felt like there was nothing he could do about it. Better ride out the storm and hope that things came together in the end. It was a shitty attitude, and he knew that, but he felt helpless, impotent. Thanks to his past activities with computers and subsequent prison time, he had few other prospects.

So when a red convertible pulled up, and the beautiful woman got out of it, he was surprised that something was actually happening to break up the monotony. She said hello, and climbed up to stand beside him. He looked her over.

"Well, well, well."

She was a beautiful woman with creamy brown skin and startling white hair. She had kind brown eyes, and an accent that Stan couldn't place, a softening of the vowels that sounded vaguely British, but wasn't. She was dressed in black leather pants, and a long leather jacket—she should have been sweltering in the hot Texan sun, but instead she looked cool and collected. He wiped his arm along his forehead, finding it drenched with sweat. The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile, and a cool breeze suddenly filled the air. He sighed with relief, but asked roughly, "What are you selling again?"

She explained about some school she worked for in New York, a school for underprivileged or special kids or something like that. He wasn't paying much attention, and kept hitting golf balls. When he hooked one and it barely passed the 50 yard mark he'd made, the woman raised an eyebrow.

Somewhat embarrassed, he just gave her a look. "You're fucking up my chi," and climbed down. He had to get ready for his shift, and was trying to be as rude as possible to chase the woman away, but she simply followed him into his house. She continued to talk about something involving the school, he wasn't really listening. But his attention caught when he heard her mention the name Holly.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

She looked on coolly, unfazed by his rude comment. "I said, we can help you get your daughter back."

He barely restrained himself from pushing her out the front door. "How the hell do you know about that?" he bit out.

She smiled kindly. "Just come back with me, just talk to the man I work for. He's willing to help you however you need, financially, whatever. He can get you the best lawyers, he has connections in these kinds of matters. He's willing to pay you, just to meet you."

Stan just looked at her for a few minutes before asking, a ghost of a grin on his face, "What kind of a school is this?"

It was a few days later, and the woman who had come to his place in Texas, Ororo Monroe, he reminded himself, was picking him up at JFK. He still wasn't sure if this was a good idea. Technically he wasn't even allowed to leave the state. But Stan had never been one for technicalities.

He stood at the baggage carousel, waiting for his suitcase, when he heard a soft voice behind him. He turned and saw Ororo standing with a broad smile on her face.

"Stan," she said, "I'm so glad you could come. This is my associate, Rogue. She also works at the school."

Stan looked the young girl over. She was beautiful as well, but in a very different way from Ororo. Where Ororo seemed calm and confident, this girl radiated a youthful exuberance and freshness. She had looked rather shocked for a moment when he first turned around, but had shook her head and quickly recovered. She had long brown hair, and two curious white streaks which framed her face. She was dressed very simply, in a long sleeved t-shirt with jeans. But she had a long silky looking scarf wrapped a few times around her neck, and she was wearing leather gloves. She immediately reminded him of his daughter, who he hadn't seen in so long. When Holly grew up she would probably look a lot like this girl. He felt a pain in his chest at the thought of Holly, but reached out to shake Rogue's hand.

"Rogue?" he questioned.

"Yeah." After a moments hesitation she continued, "But you can call me Marie."

"Umm, okay. Marie."

"Pleased to meet you," she drawled in a soft southern accent.

He turned to face the baggage rail, and there was a long silence as they waited. Ororo simply stood there, straight backed and clear eyed, waiting patiently, but Rouge fidgeted and shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was making Stan antsy, and he finally turned to her and asked her, "What do you do at this school?"

"Oh," she replied nonchalantly, "I teach."

"You?"

"Yeah, me." She laughed a little at his incredulousness. "I used to be a student there also, and I couldn't really bear to leave it after I graduated. I teach the younger children, and..." she trailed off.

"And?" he prompted.

"Umm, and Ororo teaches history." He was sure she was about to say something else, but decided not to press the issue.

Stan was starting to feel a little nervous about this whole thing. He wasn't quite sure what he was getting into, and he knew that there was something these two women weren't telling him, but he decided to play along for a while, at least until he could get a clearer picture as to what they wanted from him. All Ororo would tell him was that they needed his help for something. He had told her that he wasn't allowed to touch computers, if he did he would go straight back to Leavenworth, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. But she just smiled and told him to wait to talk about it with the professor.

That was the guy who was supposed to be running things, some guy named Xavier who needed his computer skills, and was going to get his daughter back for him. He tried to focus on that, and forget about all the other strange things surrounding these people.

"I know this is a difficult decision. You would be breaking several laws, and risking going back to prison, although we would do everything in our power to keep that from happening." For the past half an hour Charles Xavier had been describing what he wanted. Stan raised an eyebrow at the thought of going back to prison. If he ended up back in Leavenworth, that wasn't going to help him.

"Just think about your daughter."

Yeah right, he thought, That's about the only thing I do.

Xavier wavered for a moment, and Stan wondered if he'd heard him. "Yes, well. Thank you for meeting with me, perhaps you would like a few hours in which to make your decision?"

Stan nodded. "Very well then. Simply ask one of the staff members when you wish to speak with me. Feel free to look around the mansion if you wish."

"Thank you." Stan rose to shake his hand, and left the room.

He felt like he was in something of a daze. He knew now why this school was 'special'. It was populated entirely by mutants. Xavier had explained his power of telepathy, and demonstrated it briefly. The other two people he had met in the professor's office, some married couple, had also demonstrated their powers. The woman, Jean, had floated some objects off the professors desk, making them dance in the air for a few moments before putting them back, and Scott had explained how he had to shield his eyes from every kind of light except ultra-red at the low end of the spectrum, hence the strange glasses he wore. He didn't want to demonstrate it for Stan, saying it was rather destructive, and the professor had remarked urbanely about not needing a new skylight anytime soon.

Stan had found it strange how comfortable they were with the whole thing. He himself had known few mutants in his life. There was that guy with the webbed fingers in college, but Stan only ever noticed it when they played pool, and he would splay his fingers out to support the cue, so he wasn't sure if that even counted.

The professor had explained how it was unusual to bring a human such as Stan into the mansion, they usually didn't work with humans, and then only with ones who were demonstratively open to mutant kind. But they were desperate, and Stan was supposedly the best at what he did. Used to do, he had explained.

"Look, I flew 1500 miles for this meeting. Why don't you just tell me what you want from me," Stan had finally asked.

The professor had explained about something that was coming up in Legislature, something called the Mutant Registration Act. Both he and Jean had testified before Congress about how the act was wrong, unconstitutional and therefore it should not be allowed to pass. But unfortunately there were many people who felt that mutants were dangerous, untrustworthy, to be feared and kept separate from the rest of the world.

"Frankly, I am not saying that there aren't mutants like that out there," the professor had said, "But please believe me when I tell you that we are not like that. We only want to see peace between mutants and humans."

They wanted him to write a program, something that could get onto the FBI databases and destroy any information that had already been accumulated on mutants. They knew that this might cause even more anti-mutant sentiment, but they had run out of time. The Registration Act was going to be voted on soon, and they needed more time to try and convince the world how terrible an idea it was. If there was a big enough disturbance in the program, then they might be able to delay its being voted on. It was a slim chance, the professor had told him. But it was one they felt they must take.

In return for writing this program, the professor said that he would do anything within his power to help him get his daughter back. They hadn't said anything about it, but he felt they must know about where she was living now. His ex-wife's new husband was the god damned porn king of Southern California, and he did not want his daughter exposed to...whatever she was being exposed to there. He didn't even want to think about it.

Stan wandered away from the office meeting, his mind swirling. He found a lounge, and plopped down on a leather couch in a daze. He wanted his daughter so badly he could taste it. But he knew that getting thrown back in prison was no way to do it. He wasn't positive that he could trust the professor to do what he said, but taking one look around this place showed how generous the man must be.

He could hear children screaming as classes were presumably being let out. The halls filled with children of all ages, laughing and talking, excited to be done with school for the day. He felt another pang of longing for his Holly. His mind suddenly made up, he stood to find the professor. As he waited for a particularly large throng of children to pass, he heard a voice call, "Jimmy, don't forget this!" A boy with flashing silver eyes yelled, "Thanks Miss Rouge!" as she tossed his jacket to him.

"Hello again," she said to Stan, walking over to him. "What are you up to?"

"I was just going to find Xavier, and tell him I'll do what he wants."

"You will? You'll do it?" she asked excitedly. "That's fantastic!"

He grinned at her enthusiasm. "Yeah...so, umm, now that I know what this place is..."

"Yeah?" she prompted him after he trailed off.

"Umm...what's yours," he blurted out unceremoniously.

"Oh, my mutation? Well it's my skin actually. I absorb people when I touch them. I get people's memories, their thoughts, and even their powers if I touch another mutant. It really sucks. Heh. No pun intended." She laughed and Stan smiled along with her. "It's worse for who I touch though, I can kill a person if I touch them for too long. The first boy I ever kissed ended up in a coma for three weeks. I probably won't be able to touch someone ever again."

Stan let out a low whistle. "Wow, that really does suck."

She smiled wryly. She had been somewhat blasé about it, but it had taken her a long time to resign herself to the fact she would never be able to touch someone without a barrier again. She was glad he wasn't running away screaming from her. "Yeah. So, would you like a tour of the mansion before you see the professor again?"

"Umm, maybe later, kid." Rogue jumped a little when he called her that, looking at him strangely. He wasn't too sure what to make of that. "Sorry," he said, "It's just that you really remind me of my daughter, and that's what I used to call her."

"Ahh. It's okay. Story of my life, actually."

"Hmm?"

"Oh nothing. Just let me know later if you want that tour."

"Okay. Thanks Marie."

As Rogue watched Stan walk away she marveled again at the resemblance between him and Logan. If you shaved Logan's face, cut his hair short and wrestled him out of the flannel he wore, he would be the spitting image of Stan. Of course, you would have to take the scowl away as well. Logan constantly looked like he was going to run you through with his claws. Well, with everyone except her. And when Stan called her kid like that, the similarities were uncanny.

Of course, she didn't get the same feeling from Stan that she got from Logan. Pretty much since the moment she had laid eyes on Logan in some crappy bar in Northern Canada, she had felt something for him. Back then it wasn't love exactly, it was more a feeling that she would do anything for him, that he was the most important thing in the world to her. For a while after she had touched him, she thought he had felt the same way. But then he had left the mansion to search for his past. When he had come back they became close friends, but nothing more than that.

She sighed as she thought about it. She was closer to Logan than anyone, yet he seemed to keep her at arms length. At first she thought it was because she was too young. But 5 years had passed since they had met, and she was now 22 years old. She tried not to think about why he kept her at a distance. As the years passed she had come to be desperately in love with him, but she had tried to put the thought of them ever being involved romantically out of her head. They were good friends, but Logan obviously didn't love her in the same way she loved him, and she couldn't very well force him to. She knew she would have to be content with that, try to move on with her life. This was her first year teaching at the school, and she loved it. She had been training on and off all throughout high school and college, learning how to fight and trying to control her skin, but now she was training in earnest to become a team member.

She knew that Logan didn't like the thought of her being on the team, yet he had insisted on taking over her training when she told him her intentions. He said that as long as she was going to do this crazy thing she might as well learn how to protect herself, how to fight well. And he was the best person to teach her that.

She loved their training sessions. She was always somewhat worried about getting him accidentally with her skin, but as she had two big chunks of him in her head anyways, she wasn't was desperately afraid as with other people. She was only worried about the pain he would inevitably suffer if he accidentally touched her again. On the evenings in which they trained together, they would usually shower and end up hanging out, watching tv or something. Once he had even taken her to a hockey game. She loved it.

Still though, from the way Logan treated her, she thought he must see her as something of a daughter, as Stan did. He took care of her. He had always taken the promise to take care of her quite seriously, and was always concerned about her well being, even five years later. She loved that he cared, and tried to be satisfied with what he gave her, not asking for more. She even tried to quell the hope that someday he might love her as more than a friend. She knew that was a far fetched dream, and tried not to think about what the future might bring.

She sighed and went back into her classroom, to grade homework for her class tomorrow.

"So, you've seen the main floor, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, this floor has the classrooms and common areas. There's a lounge, a library, and a big tv room down that way. This way has more classrooms, and the kitchen is this way too."

"Damn, this place is huge!"

"There's a reason it's called a mansion, sugar."

Logan stood in the hallway and listened intently to the voices he heard. There was a teasing in Marie's voice that he didn't like being directed at anyone except him. The other voice was unfamiliar, and he decided to investigate.

"Are you hungry? You missed dinner because of your meeting, but I'm sure we could dig something up for you."

Logan turned the corner and got a good view of what was happening. Marie, his Marie, was standing in the main hall with her hand on the arm of a strange man. While that wouldn't faze most people, Logan knew that Marie rarely touched people, even when she was protected by gloves and clothes, unless she really trusted them. The fact that she would be touching someone Logan didn't know was making him see red.

"Marie!" he barked out. "What the hell's goin' on?"

She jumped, startled, but smiled when she saw Logan. "Hey, Logan. We were just about to get some food. Hungry?"

"Who're you?" Logan finally tore his eyes from Marie to take in the stranger.

"Depends. Who the hell are you?" the man responded coolly.

Marie could feel the tension between the two men. "Logan, it's okay. This is Stan. He's...consulting on something for the professor."

Stan snorted at that, but murmured something in the affirmative. He turned an affectionate look towards Marie, and said, "C'mon kiddo."

At that Logan growled softly.

Marie slowly turned away from Logan, her eyes lingering on his. She had a peculiar expression on her face, one that Logan had never seen before. It was questioning, but something else was in there as well. Was she angry? She finally followed Stan towards the kitchen.

"We've got sparring in an hour," Logan called after her.

She turned to look at him once more, but didn't say anything. Finally she disappeared into the kitchen. Logan went downstairs to the danger room to work off some aggression before their training session. He was extremely pissed off, and he wasn't even sure why.

In the kitchen it was Stan's turn to look questioning. "What the hell was that" he asked.

"That was Logan," she sighed. "he's a little...protective of me."

"Protective? No offense, but that guy was kind of an asshole."

"No, he's really not. It's just, well it's a little hard to explain."

"Try me."

"Well, a few years back, when Logan and I first came here, there was some... unpleasantness. These mutants that are really out for no good built this machine that was going to turn everyone into mutants. The leader needed me to make the machine work, he needed my powers. He...well, he kidnapped me. I had only just met Logan, but he still risked his life to save me. Remember how I said my skin sucks out people's powers? Logan's powers are healing. I was really hurt, but he touched me and I borrowed his healing. He saved my life."

"Well, what does that have to do with his being an asshole?"

"It's hard to explain. I don't even know if I understand it all the way, really. Before all that happened he promised me that he would look out for me, that he would protect me. So he feels like he has to watch over me all the time now, I think, because they got to me while he was there. It's like he has to make up for that. He probably sees you as some kind of threat because he doesn't know you."

"It sounds like he's obsessed to me."

"No, it's not that. I have him in my head, I know what he's really like. He's just...I think I understand him in a way that no one else can. Because I have him up here."

She tapped her finger to her temple and sighed, wondering how much to tell him. She had trusted Stan right away, she was very good at reading people. And she thought it was so sad when he had explained how he wasn't even allowed to talk to his daughter, whom he obviously loved very much.

"I love Logan, I really do. I mean, I'm in love with him. He just doesn't see me like that. I think he sees me like you do, like a daughter or something. That's okay. Whatever he needs from me I'll give it to him." She smiled sadly, but laughed, trying to lighten things up. "Yikes, this is starting to get depressing!"

She waited for Stan to tell her to move on, that Logan was no good for her, that she would get over it. This was people always told her, the usual litany of advice she got from the mansion residents.

Instead he asked her, "Have you told him that you feel like this?"

"Well, no. I don't want to weird him out. But I think he knows. I mean, how can he not know?"

"You'd be surprised."

"You think so?"

Stan pulled her in for a quick hug. "Don't worry kiddo, everything will work out. He'll see how much of an idiot he's being."

She looked up at him surprised, and gratified not only that he would touch her voluntarily like that, but also for his words. "Yeah? Thanks. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest."

"No problem. Now, what's this I hear about food?"

Logan wasn't sure what to make of this guy, or his intense reaction to him. He couldn't sense any real danger towards Marie from him. The guy smelled sincere, and didn't feel dangerous at all. So why did he bother Logan so much? Trying to put the matter out of his mind for a while, he battled against sentinels in the danger room, throwing himself fiercely into the exercise to try and dull his mental anxiety.

After a while Marie came down to have their sparring session. She heard him talking to the guy. Stan, thought Logan derisively, What kind of a pansy name is that? She was showing him where the computer banks were. The big fancy ones, not the ones for the students to use. He could overhear something of their conversation.

"Yeah, it's not just a multi screen system. It has a DS3 connection which allows us to access seven networks at once. Go ahead and play around on it for a while. I'm going to train a little bit with Logan, but I'll come back to see how you're doing when I'm done."

"Train? I thought you were a teacher."

"Yeah I am. But I do this for...self defense."

"Self defense, huh?" He raised an eyebrow to indicate his disbelief. "Have fun."

She grinned. "You too."

Logan had no clue what she was talking about with all that fancy computer talking, but as soon he heard her get into her uniform, he started warming up.

He resolved not to say anything about Stan. "Why are you hangin' around that guy?" Great, that lasted for all of two seconds, he thought.

"What? Why do you care, Logan? He's new here. I was just showing him around."

He just grunted in response. He knew he didn't always have to use words around Marie. She could interpret him. She even joked about it sometimes, how lucky he was that she could 'speak Logan'.

"Logan, how can you be mad about that? I was just helping him out. He's going to be working here for a little while. Could you try to be nice to him? He's had a rough time of it, I think."

Logan just grunted again, this time noncommittally.

"Please sugar, for me?" She looked up at him from where she had been stretching on the ground, and he was lost in her eyes for a moment.

"Whatever," and Marie knew she had won. "Let's get started."

Logan could never quite figure Marie out. She had him in her head, and he could never understand how she wanted to still be around him after seeing everything that he'd ever done. She always said that it didn't matter, that she understood him, that she could never be afraid of him. Even after the time he had stabbed her, and she had touched him, she wasn't afraid.

Sometimes he wished he had the benefit of a brain-Marie, something that would tell him what she was thinking. When he had first come back from searching for his past Marie was so happy to see him. He knew that she had a crush on him, Jean had told him so before he had even left. But she was much too young for him. He thought that she needed to live her life, that she wouldn't want to be tied down to some whack-job like him with no past, no memories, nothing to offer.

No matter how vehement her protests were, he knew that he wasn't a nice person. He wasn't necessarily a bad person either, but he really didn't give a shit what happened to other people. At least, until Marie came along. She had mooned after him for a while after he had returned, but had quickly started being normal around him when she noticed how uncomfortable it made him. He knew that he was no good for her. Their friendship was close, but not too close. They were drinking buddies, they were sparring partners. They were best friends, but nothing resembling love or even lust was between them.

He thought that she had gotten over her crush, and was relieved that he had never acted on it. He thought that she wanted a protector out of their relationship, and so gave her that. He didn't want to take too much from her, or give her any more than she wanted from him. He was very careful about that. Not that he ever articulated any of this to himself, he just instinctually kept her at arms length, thinking it was what she wanted.

For her part, Marie had purposefully tried to stop loving Logan. She never really got over her "crush", just got much better at hiding it from other people, although she was never very good at hiding it from herself. She told herself whatever Logan wanted was what she wanted to give him, found happiness in doing what she thought made him happy.

So they lived like that for years, each convincing themselves that they wanted something the other person couldn't or wouldn't possibly give. They each suffered in silence, grateful for what they had from the other person, but a shadow of what if always lay over their heads.

Stan had been sitting at the computer console for 5 hours straight. He had explained to Ororo, who had shown through the computer labs after Marie had to leave for her training, the secret of his source code.

"When I was in college, in Berkeley, I created the source code for the worm I've been using for years. In the basement of a file room is the only PDP-10 still active and on the Internet."

Ororo looked up, curiosity written across her face.

"Yeah, not many people know about it. It's an ITS machine they kept online just for historical sake. So I hid my worm there, where no one would think to look."

Stan clicked away at the keyboard for a few minutes, knowing that thousands of miles away, all the way across the country, an old tape machine was clicking into life, feeding the information he sought onto newer, faster machines. Presently data began to flash across the screen. "Voila."

"Clever," she smiled. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"This. Break codes, write programs, all of it."

"I don't know exactly. I just see the code in my head. I can't explain it."

"Maybe you're some kind of hacker mutant," she gently teased.

"Yeah, that must be it." He grinned at the thought. Why not?

"Okay, I'll leave you to it. Do you need anything?"

"No. Wait, yes. Do you have any wine?"

So, five hours later he had wandered up to the kitchen, looking for another bottle. He was bone tired, but there was a kind of excitement that coursed through him. There was just something about computers that felt so right to him. He only had to sit there, in front of the screen, and the multi-headed worm he was creating flowed from him fingertips. He felt like he was only a vessel, that he actually contained no creativity. Sometimes he felt like the code he was writing already existed, had always existed, and his only job was to pluck it from the air and translate it into the computer.

He found a likely looking cupboard and bent over to find the same vintage he had been drinking before. He heard a noise behind him and glanced over his shoulder. It was Logan, standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a cigar in his mouth.

"What're you doing'?" Logan asked menacingly.

"Just looking for something to drink."

"No. I mean with Marie. What the hell d'you want with her?"

"I don't want anything. She's a sweet girl, and—"

"That's right, she is a sweet girl. And I don't want you to fuck with that. Got it, bub? You stay the fuck away from her."

"Listen," Stan began, clearly exasperated. "Just who the fuck do you think you are? You don't know a god damned thing about me."

Logan started to growl softly, but Stan ignored it.

"I don't want to hurt Maire. I don't want to hurt anyone for that matter. I don't know what kind of gig you all have going here, I don't know what kind of a school needs a mainframe like you got downstairs. I don't want to know. I just want to do my job, get the hell out of here and go find my kid, okay.?"

He brushed past Logan and made his way back downstairs. For his part, Logan kept a hold of his desire to release his claws and slash this guy open from neck to navel. He congratulated himself on not killing this guy for Marie's sake, and took off for the garage. He wanted to go out for a ride on his bike to calm down.

"How could you do that?"

"Huh?" It was the next day, and Logan was in the garage, working on his trashed bike. He had really done a number on it the night before, and was giving it a tune up. He looked up and saw Marie standing over him. It was late afternoon, and classes were over for the day. He couldn't believe that she had managed to sneak up on him like that—usually his senses were more than adequate for telling him what was going on around him. He must be more distracted by this guy and the situation with Marie than he thought.

"I said, how could you do that?" she said testily. She was more than a little angry at Logan, after what Jubilee had told her she had overheard in the kitchen between Logan and Stan late last night. "You told me you were going to be nice to Stan, and then you threatened him!"

Logan snorted. "Is that what he told you? Your little golden boy went crying home to his little Marie." She had never heard him be so snide towards her, and was amazed that he was acting like this.

"No. He didn't tell me anything. I haven't even seen him today. What in the hell is wrong with you?"

Logan didn't say anything, just turned back to his bike, angrily cranking down on the bolt he was working on.

"Listen," he finally said, "I don't know what you wanna start with that guy, but he's not worth it. He told me so last night. All he cares about is his daughter. He doesn't care about you." Not like I do.

"Well yeah, I know that," she replied, with a note in her voice that clearly said duh.

Logan glanced at her quickly, then looked away again.

"Practically all he's talked about since he got here was his daughter, Logan. He says I remind him of her, and I like that. And what do you mean, start something?" she said with some heat. "For Christ's sake, he's just here to do something for the professor, then he's leaving! He's nice to me, he's not afraid of me because of my skin, and I think it's my own business if I'm nice to him back. I shouldn't have to take shit off of you because of it! Christ!"

She paused for a moment, as if struggling with something. "Look Logan, you're my best friend. I love you more than anything in this world. But god, this crazy need of yours to take care of me all the time! Just fuck off sometimes, okay?"

Marie turned and stomped out of the room, leaving a stunned Logan staring after her.

He thought about what she said. He wondered what she meant by his 'crazy need' to take care of her. Wasn't that what she wanted? She was the most important thing in the world to him, couldn't she see that he just didn't want her to get hurt? He realized suddenly that was exactly what he was doing to her now. He heaved a big sigh and ran after her, bent on apologizing.

He followed her scent through the hall and up the main stairs, catching up to her just in front of her door. He grabbed her arm and spun her around, shocked to see tears streaming down her face. She stared up at him with large, sad eyes.

"Oh, kid," he breathed, "come on." He led her into the room by the arm, seeing Jubilee sitting on her bed flipping through some chick magazine. He cocked his thumb and motioned sharply over his shoulder. "Screw." Jubilee just scowled at him, but at Marie's soft nod she got up and left the room.

He sat Marie gently down on the bed and settled in next to her. They sat in silence for a few moments while Logan thought about what he was going to say.

"Look Marie," he finally began, "I'm sorry." He was never good with apologies, he never made them to anyone except Marie, but with those words things began to get a little easier. "I never meant to upset you. I just thought that...I just wanted to..." he trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say, of how much he should say.

"Logan, I know you want to take care of me. But I'm an adult now, and you can't just chase people out of my life like this anymore. You know that you're important to me. I mean, you're Logan. You're in a class by yourself as far as I'm concerned. But that doesn't mean I can't have other people in my life too. As much as you want to, you can't protect me from everything."

"But isn't that what you want? I thought you wanted me to—"

"No sugar. I just want you to be you. But I need you to let me have that too. Logan I..."

"You what, darlin'?"

There was a long pause, and Logan could hear her heart start to beat wildly. Anxiety was pouring off her in waves.

"I love you. I mean, Logan, I'm in love you."

He stared at her, completely at a loss. His mind was blank. Was she saying...could she be saying...

"I have been for a long time. Practically since I met you. I know that you don't see me like that, I'm sorry if it's weird for you. But I can't live like this any more. I can't live without you knowing. It's not—nothing has to change between us. We can still be friends. I want to still be friends. But I guess that I'm just a selfish person because I want to be friends, and I want you to know this too." She was covering her face with her hands, so she couldn't see the smile that had lit up his face.

"Why Marie? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because," she answered from in between her fingers. "I knew that you didn't...I didn't want to stop being your friend Logan. I'll take what I can get from you. I know that sounds pathetic, but I can't help it. I'm so glad we're friends Logan, it's the most important thing in the world to me. I never want that to change. So don't worry, I'm not going to be weird about it. We can—"

"Marie," he interrupted her, pulling her hands away from her face, and putting a gloved hand to her cheek. He brushed his thumb under her eye, wiping away some of her tears. "Marie," he said again. But this time it was deeper, somehow more sensual. He growled softly, and it sounded like he was purring at her. He slid his hand around from her cheek, winding it in her hair and holding the back of her head. She looked up at him, amazed at what she saw in his eyes. She saw love shining out of them, a hopefulness and vulnerability she had never seen before.

His hand tightened, and she saw possessiveness well up in him, but in a different way she had ever felt it before. Instead of a watchful protectiveness it was more consuming, more primal. He took the airy scarf from around her neck, and held it across her face.

She closed her eyes, unable to believe what was happening. It couldn't be this simple, could it? That's not how it worked, that she told him she loved him, and he suddenly loved her back. Her brain was a riot of emotion and wonder, she couldn't form any thoughts with the feeling of his hand in her hair.

He leaned over her and gave her a small kiss on her lips. He pulled back, looking intently into her eyes, and grinned. "Love you too, kid." He gathered her into his arms and they lay back on the bed, content for now to hold each other, and try to make sense of how their relationship had changed. Marie said a little prayer of thanks to Stan for his role in this change.

It was 4 months after Stan had seen Ororo pull up to his trailer in Texas. He was amazed at everything that had happened since then. He sat at the table in the diner he had breakfasted in, and reflected on it all. He had written the worm for Xavier, just as he promised he would.

He had been scared after handing it over that once Xavier had what he wanted from him he would have called the cops, or done something else to weasel out of their deal. But Marie had promised him that the professor would never do such a thing. Stan was glad that everything had seemed to work out for her.

Despite what Logan had said, Stan did care about her. She was so much like Holly, so cheerful and naturally loving; she had kept him going, giving him hope that he would get his daughter back someday. And while Logan may not be the guy he would have chosen for her, she was very happy that they had finally gotten together.

And the professor had finally been true to his word. He had set up some kind of dummy charity to help Stan. He had access to money, the best family lawyers that money could buy, he even had a new job provided by Xavier.

The court dates had been pushed up to expedite the process, and after an excruciating 2 months and 14 days (not that he was counting) he had his daughter back. He felt complete now that he had her back. He even had full custody of her now, which he thanked god for every day. He still hated the fact that she had lived with that bastard Larry for two years, but was thankful he had the chance to get her out of their before she had become a fluffer for her new daddy's films... But best not to think of that. Now she was safe, and happy and that was all that mattered.

The waitress came by, bringing the bill and breaking him out of his reverie.

"Thank you," he said as she walked away. Turning to the small bundle of energy across from him he smiled. "You sure you're done?"

"Yes," his daughter responded enthusiastically. "I'm full."

"Good, let's go. So, navigator, where's our next stop." They got up and walked slowly to the truck waiting for them.

"Holbrook."

"Holbrook? So what's in Holbrook?"

"The petrified forest, dad." She said it as though it should be obvious to anyone with eyes.

"Petrified forest?" They climbed into a truck with a huge silver trailer on the back.

"You take the 140 down to the 180."

"Cool." They buckled up, but Stan waited for a moment before starting the engine.

Holly looked at him, concern written on her face. "Are you okay dad?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm fine sweetheart."

Pulling out of the restaurant parking lot Holly tried to reassure him. "Don't worry dad. It's gonna be okay. We're gonna be fine."

He looked over at her, a wry grin on his face. He should be the one comforting her. "I know honey."

As far as Stan was concerned, life no longer felt like an empty thing, something to be suffered until the next best thing came along. Now that he had his daughter back he was through waiting. He was living.