Disclaimer: Any characters, dialogue, lyrics, and/or situations you may recognize are not my own. I repeat: I do not own anything.

When it finally happened there were no announcements, celebrations, or changes.

In fact, she managed to keep her newly acquired control a secret from everyone in the mansion, besides Professor Xavier, of course, for five weeks. It was five weeks of wearing unnecessary gloves and extra layers; five weeks of internal deliberation over whether or not she should tell someone. If she were to be completely honest with herself she knew why she didn't tell anyone. Her mutation served as a protective shield; a reason for her to distance herself from others. With her mutation gone she felt exposed, vulnerable, and, quite frankly, scared. Marie needed time to adjust to the idea of no longer being poisonous, so she kept quiet.

It took her nearly a week to work up the courage to shed some layers and two more weeks to stop skirting around others. The only ones to notice her improvement were Ororo and Logan. Ororo, the perceptive woman that she was, noticed the changes in her right away, but she thought Marie was gaining confidence and silently encouraged her with warm smiles. Logan kept his thoughts to himself; he could tell there was more to her subtle changes than just a confidence boost, but he didn't want to pressure her into telling him if she wasn't ready.

After a month of adjusting to being in control of her mutation, Marie finally became comfortable enough to talk to her classmates. Since the incident on Liberty Island, she had isolated herself and only socialized with Logan and the rest of the senior team members. Taking the initiative to get to know someone her own age was a great improvement for her, and she actually enjoyed having some—much needed—girl talk with Kitty and Jubilee. In turn, they enjoyed having someone else to relay the gossip to.

There was nothing special about the fifth week to warrant her divulging her secret. There was no great obstacle she had to overcome in order to tell someone about her control. The only thing that did change was her inability to sleep through the night due to a horrible cold she caught from Jubilee. So, at five in the morning Marie found herself in the kitchen, alone with Logan, and without gloves.

Logan came in as she was adding sugar to her tea and he greeted her with a "Mornin'" and a raised eyebrow. Marie just gave him a tired smile and continued to prepare her tea—she was not a morning person. Logan toasted some bagels and sliced a few oranges for them then they both ate in comfortable silence.

It wasn't until they had finished eating that Marie started to become aware of her bare hands. She was surprised she hadn't noticed them before, but she figured it was a positive step in her adjustment. Logan had noticed as well but he had thought, since she no longer shared a room, that she didn't sleep with them on. Regardless of whether or not she did sleep with them, he trusted her.

Marie didn't need gloves around him.

Marie's heart began to beat rapidly; she knew then what she wanted to do. Slowly, she extended her arm across the small table until her bare fingers were hovering over Logan's hand. He had unclenched his hand and faced it palm up when he realized what Marie intended to do. Logan knew she would never deliberately hurt him, so he induced that she must have gained control of her mutation.

Finally, her pale fingers lowered to graze his palm. They stayed connected as she looked up at him. Marie needed to know that he was okay with her touch—light as it was. Logan was looking at her with astonishment and trust; it was an expression one seldom had the chance to see him wear. That knowledge gave her confidence to continue on with her touch.

Marie traced the lines of his hand, marveling at how smooth it was. It had never occurred to her that Logan would have hands softer than hers due to his healing factor. It was another discovery brought on by the sense she had long been deprived of.

Logan was staring at their joined hands. His heart beating quickly for reasons he couldn't quite distinguish, yet he didn't care. For once he didn't mind not having the answers.

Marie continued to map Logan's hand with her fingers, taking in the wonderful sight of a man's hand so different from her own. Where her fingers were short, slender, and pale his were long, tapered, and tan. She glided her fingers down from the tip of Logan's own to rest between his knuckles. It would never cease to amaze her that such destructive weapons were hiding just beneath the surface of his smooth skin.

After a few minutes of gentle exploration, Marie looked up. She was surprised to see Logan had closed his eyes. Sensing that Marie was looking at him, he opened his eyes. He was proud to note that she no longer looked timid or frightened but instead calm and confident. Then Logan moved his hand to intertwine with hers and smiled. It was a genuine and tender smile free of any mockery—a true rarity.

"Thank you, Logan."

"What for?" he asked, mildly confused as to what he did.

"For trusting me," and Logan knew she didn't just mean that moment.

It was for trusting her touch long before she was ever in control of her mutation. For never treating her any differently than someone without deadly skin.

Marie knew that Logan did not trust easily; she knew he even had a hard time trusting himself. There were times he second guessed his motives for doing things not knowing if there was some barely there memory pulling him in one direction. She also knew that trust from Logan was everything, and she was happy that she had it and was able to share her precious moment with him. In all honesty, there was never anyone else she had wanted to share it with. It was always Logan.

It would always be Logan.

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