Title: A conversation

Summery: She knows there is more to this than meets the eye. More than him wanting to protect her because he promised to take care of her.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: I don't own. Back off.

"Logan."

"Logan."

"Logan…."

Logan took out the cigar that he had been biting on and ground out, "What."

Not a question or statement but a demand. She rolled her eyes, as if she ever did what he demanded or commanded.

She turned around so that her back was now on the balcony rail and rested her elbows on it, feet crossed at the ankle as she looked up at the older man.

Her hair is done in a peasant style. The white braided and crowning her head and the brown lose and flying. Teasing him. Taunting him. Contrasting with the smooth white skin of her neck. The hair outlines it and turns it into a forbidden fruit.

The corner of her mouth quirks but only slightly. " You can't stay mad at me forever." When they're alone, her accent is thicker, heavier. She's been told that her accent is flirty and seductive and can sound like sex (low and husky and a little breathless) when directed at the right person (Logan).

The quirk becomes more pronounced when he lifts one eyebrow and lights the cigar. The air becomes perfumed with it and she unconsciously leans into the smell.

To her it will always represent safety and protection and love. His eyes narrow at her movement.

"You said I couldn't until I was older. When I turned eighteen, you said wait a few years. I did. I was twenty. You said wait again. I'm turning twenty-two and I want to join them. I want to repay the Professor." She lowered her voice; her eyes downcast as she thought about how her life could have been like if she hadn't met these two wonderful men.

" You don't have repay him. He took you in because it was right." His voice isn't so rough and the tone isn't as demanding.

He thinks about how they saved her from Sabertoothe (he'll never admit he was having trouble standing against him) and a burning death and how they helped him get her back. He still blames Chuck for not knowing what Magnet Man wanted.

But he is thankful that they gave her place to feel safe in and not feel like a total outsider (her mutation makes her an inherit outsider). They gave her an education and friends and roof and three solid meals a day.

"Logan." This time she sighs and bends her neck a little to the left, away from the cigar smoke. Her hair shifts and blocks some of the sun and causes her bones to make shadows and stand out.

Brown eyes look up at him and he can see the questions and the words trying to form in her head.

She knows there is more to this than meets the eye. More than him wanting to protect her because he promised to take care of her.

She sees it in his posture. Stiff shoulders and poker straight back. Arms defensive, crossed against his chest only to be disrupted when he reaches for his cigar.

He makes a tempting picture, especially when he's dressed in a white wife beater and a pair of painted on jeans and barefoot.

She gives another sigh and shakes her head, her hair swaying and the scent of shampoo becomes stronger. Green apple.

She pushes herself up and opens her mouth one last time. Still nothing comes out. At least not coherently. She moves forward, to the French doors that lead into the library.

"Marie." The tone of his voice makes her stop short. There is something there, something more than there usually is.

He turns around and grounds out the cigar into the potted plant near him. He looks at her, makes sure that his and her eyes are locked and he tries to tell her every thing that he can't or is afraid to say.

But all he can get out is: "I wouldn't be able to survive."

Her eyes go liquid and her mouth makes a soft smile and she brings her hand to her mouth.

She blows him a kiss as she walks off.

She knows that if she pushes this heart to heart any longer he'll run.

And she has plans for him.

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And thanks for reading.