As she stared into the darkness, the rain that drizzled down the window provided the perfect soundtrack to the devastated mood she found herself in. A gloved hand touched the glass as to absorb the liquid drops on the other side, her heat leaving contours of steam on the cold material.
"I'm sorry."
That familiar voice, which she had held in such great esteem, now only provided her with empty phrases and words she could not understand. Its apologetic tone meant nothing to her, but that he wished it would be easier for him to hurt her. That there would be an easier way for him to tell her that he did not love her.
"Marie, please."
She was resolved not to look at him, not that she could anyway. Life was waning out of her for every second that passed, it seemed, and she was not sure if she could manage to face him even if she had wanted to. Her body felt limp, like she had lost sensation in all of her limbs, and that the only thing that could revive them would be his hands on her skin. But it could never happen, and Rogue was oblivious to the single, silent tear that ran down her cheek.
He had come closer now, she realised, as his scent had become stronger, and she could hear his feet treading hesitantly nearer. A warm hand placed itself upon her shoulder, the index finger lifter to avoid skin contact. She never even flinched, unsure as to whether she was dreaming or not.
For so long she had waited for him, patiently, thinking of him, saving herself for him, for the day when he would come home and she could feel what it was like to touch. Rogue had been convinced that the only one who could help her control her power would be him. But he hadn't even let her try. He had shied away from her instantly, keeping to himself and avoiding her in any way he could. She had confronted him, and he had told her that he did not want to hurt her. And even when she had asked him to hurt her, urged him to take her because nothing else mattered to her, he had rejected her. Not even as her eyes filled up with tears and she had desperately pleaded with him to let him love her, had he responded. Just stared at her coldly, leaving her broken in a pit of despair.
He was here now. He had come to apologise. The great Wolverine apologising for his actions towards a little girl. Not worthy for her, he had said, he would destroy her.
She had looked at him then with her warm, brown eyes, asking him what had happened on his journey to make him so cold. What had he seen to make him believe himself unworthy of her love?
It didn't matter.
He was here now, for the sole purpose of telling her that he didn't love her.
Nothing mattered, she thought, her soul continuing its cruel exodus from her body.
She had greeted him with warmness in her embrace so intense it had frightened him. The tormented and conflicted untouchable girl he had left had grown up, and she had not forgotten him.
It had taken more out of him to avoid her than it was worth. Logan was almost ready to surrender to her, screw all consequences and let them both take the path of self-destruction and despair that it would lead to. But instead he had retained himself, replacing his inner turmoil of feelings with self-inflicted physical pain whenever he had felt like giving in. She was too puretoo innocent to be corrupted by a man such as himself. If you could even call him that, a man. His past had now been left a buried chapter in his life, as he realised he was not strong enough to learn the truth of his past actions, when all the secrets had begun to unravel before his eyes. Let past be past, he had thought, and had started to focus on not repeating these actions.
The first time he had rejected her almost killed him. He had stabbed himself with imaginary claws as he had stared at her with blank, emotionless eyes, willing her against reason to see the love that lay behind them.
She hadn't.
When he saw tears filling her eyes, and he heard her desperate plea, he had left, wishing she would one day understand how it was for the best. For her at least. He was hollow now. His soul had vacated his body the minute he walked out on Marie, when all he had wanted to do was take her in his arms, and truly love her.
It was impossible, he knew this. He wished for nothing more than to let her fatal touch caress his body until all life had been absorbed by the woman who he wanted to give himself to, and yet he knew it would never be. He could not taint her pure soul.
And now he was here. In her room, staring pitifully at her figure cowering next to the window like a wounded animal, as her gaze remained fixed on the darkness outside.
He was still hollow, he thought. And yet it was impossible for him to leave her alone, knowing he was to blame for her misery.
A hand upon her shoulder then, careful to avoid her skin. Not too intimate, just enough to break the trance she had fallen into.
No response.
Moving the hand slightly down her shoulder now, placing his body closer to hers, seeking out her warmth.
A brief reaction. Or had he imagined it?
Even closer now, his hand sliding further down her arm, the other gently stroking her hair.
She had closed her eyes now, revelling in his touch.
He couldn't see it, but he could feel it.
His chest pressing against her back, heartbeat pounding painfully. Sparks of warm electricity connected them, flowing through hands and hearts.
She turned now, and he could feel streams of energy surging around her. Her eyes looking up at him, and all his boundaries were broken, shattered under her gaze.
It was still there, he thought. Her love for him. Admirable, that it had not waned because of his cruelty.
He was sitting down next to her now, still connected to her eyes. She had a questioning look in hers, so innocent.
So enticing.
Answering her plea with his eyes, hoping she would understand.
'Sorry.'
Not for leaving her this time, but for trying to. Her lips parted slowly, fuelling his body with desire he had been suppressing for so long. She had forgiven him, and was looking at him with both anticipation and fear.
So beautiful.
Never in his life had he imagined that he would become so helplessly drawn to another person. He didn't deserve it. But maybe she could make him worthy.
What was happening?
Something had changed. The hands that refused her companionship earlier were now seeking out herscaressing her in ways that she had only dreamed they one day might.
The room began to look clearer, she could see again, could feel herself being revived by his touch.
His heartbeat pounding against her back provided the rhythm in which her own heart followed, and the temperature of her blood began to rise.
She closed her eyes, savouring the moment, preparing for the inevitability of him ceasing his comforting advances towards her. He would realise what he was doing, she thought, and run away, just as he has done before.
But just for this moment, she decided within herself that she would not question, but remain blissfully ignorant to the reasons for his actions. Rogue allowed herself to be entranced by his touch, imagining what it would be like for his strong, calloused hands to caress her without layers of fabric in between.
Doubt, did however not wait long before seeping into her veins, clouding her mind with disbelief and regret.
Why was he doing this?
She slowly turned to face him, inwardly hesitant to ask him, afraid that it would make him run. His eyes were unreadable to her, because she couldn't accept the possibility that they might be showing a feeling of affection towards her, maybe even love.
Instinctively she tried to shrug this notion off, but was not able to move as she was so entranced by his whole being that there was nowhere to run.
And then he lowered his hand to her face, stopping it a mere inch from her face as he sensed her fear.
"Don't worry," he had whispered, as he had brought his hand closer to her.
"You're strong. You can control it."
Her mind had been screaming for her to run, to tell him that she wasn't strong, but she was frozen by the overwhelmingly close proximity of his hand, and the heat generating from it.
So close, and then touching her.
Was she imagining it?
It felt real. More real than anything she had felt before. Her eyes were closed as well, she hadn't noticed that.
Suddenly struck by panic, she opened them, terrified of seeing his face contorted in pain as she had seen once before. But he was staring at her intensely, admiration and longing in his eyes.
He was closer than anyone had ever been to her. So close, and he could touch her. She repeated the words endlessly inside her head, he can touch me, he can touch me..
The hand was roaming down her neck now, and she inhaled sharply at his gentle caress.
And then her heart skipped a beat. His mouth had descended upon her jaw, and was carefully trying to claim as much skin as possible while testing their previously restricted boundaries of touch. She leaned her head back, welcoming his soft lips, which had now increased in intensity and were possessively tracing the outline of her jaw.
She surrendered control to him, allowing a moan to escape her lips, and could feel this encouraging him to let his hands roam the rest of her body.
"Marie.."
His mouth had ceased its exploration of her skin for long enough to utter her name seductively, stirring passion deep inside of her.
She knew what she wanted, and staring into his eyes she demanded it. His lips on hers.
The frenzy of emotions within her had shaken her enough for her to lose balance for a split second, only to feel him claim her lower back, steadying her, while continuing to explore her mouth, devouring her and her senses.
Rogue welcomed the feeling of having someone absorbing her for a change, and became oblivious to time, which now seemed to have stopped just for them. They might have stood like that for an hour for all she knew, before doubt filled her mind once more and made her voice her concerns.
"I love you.."
Logan was taken aback at this, but had no time to response before she continued sofly.
"I love you, and if you are going to run off looking for answers of what happened in your past again, then tell me, because I don't want to be left alone."
He felt a twinge of pain from the defeated look of anticipation in her eyes, and had to remind himself to remember to breathe before uttering another word.
"Marie.."
"Rogue," she corrected him, and he smiled gently as a response, toying with a white strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.
"I don't care about my past. You are my future."