Turn Down These Voices Inside My Head
He was used to finding Marie in various places in the mansion. An out of the way corner of the library. The chair in the corner of the media room. The kitchen at three in the morning. He knew he found her because he was looking. Anyone else would have overlooked her presence.
Marie was good at that. She'd said once that she'd existed outside of society for so long that she didn't know if she'd ever be able to rejoin it. He knew what that was like. Nobody knew how to live in the shadows better than a feral. Especially one saddled with immortality.
He grimaced as he walked the walnut paneled halls. He was having a harder time finding her lately. It was like she was trying to avoid him. He knew he didn't make it easy for her. He was gruff, rude, anti-social and mean as a rattlesnake. And, as everyone in the whole damned school kept telling him, way too old for her.
The Cure had turned everything upside down for a while. He'd been sympathetic and furious with her simultaneously when she'd taken it. For a man who got laid as much as he did he still knew what it was like to go untouched. He couldn't blame her for wanting the one thing that would reassure her that she was real. But if she gave up her mutation she'd die. He'd have no chance of 'accidentally' giving her his healing with a brush of his hand on her cheek or of ever feeling her skin against his. The thought had enraged him so thoroughly that he'd killed his way through the small war that followed the Cure with barely any other idea in his head than her loss.
But she'd called him, three weeks after everything went to hell, and asked him in her soft southern voice if he'd mind her borrowing his cabin for a while. He'd known there was something wrong and when he'd asked, she'd told him the truth. The Cure was only temporary, at least for her.
He hadn't had a word for the emotions that had flooded him when she'd said that. He'd been dizzy with blood pounding in his ears and gasping with it. But he'd told her she was welcome to the cabin for as long as she needed. And he'd managed to wire her some money so she could get there safely, no goddamn hitchhiking this time.
And then he'd called an old friend. Getting in touch with her hadn't been easy. And Victor was never going to let him live it down. His brother was an ass, but he did have the most complete rolodex of any mutant Logan knew. Something about not losing his memory of his two centuries plus. But he'd gotten Frost to agree to help Marie.
If there was one thing Emma loved it was a mystery. And a mutation like Marie's was a mystery all right. Defensive mutations generally came with an off switch and the fact that Marie's didn't meant something was wrong. Hell, all mutations were generally controllable. The ones that weren't were usually because of damage. Like Scooter's eyes. Brain damage kept them 'on' all the time, but he'd been born with the ability to turn them off.
When Marie had called him again she'd been in tears but they were the good kind. He'd always known that everyone's mind worked differently. And every mutation was different, even telepaths. Just because Chuck couldn't do something didn't mean another telepath had the same problem. If he had to he'd have called every damn telepath in Victor's black book to try and help Marie.
And now she was back but he could have sworn she was avoiding him. And she was still swathed in fabric head to toe, gloves, turtlenecks, scarves…it was like she didn't want to be touched.
The urge to pop claws and carve up the paneling was growing stronger as he failed to find Marie. He wondered if she was really avoiding him. If she'd finally listened to all the morons who said he was only after one thing and it was something he wouldn't ever want from a skinny little girl. Yeah, he'd heard what some of the bitchier girls and even a few of the teachers said.
He was the only feral adult in the school besides Hank and the Furrball had his 'civilized' act down pat. Beast could growl and posture with the best of 'em but he pretended well enough that everyone could forget his feral nature was more than blue fur and an ability to hang from his feet. Logan didn't do pretend. The animal wouldn't let him. That was the problem with being a feral of his strength and ability. There was always a tradeoff. And every social class needed someone to feel better than.
For mutants… well, 'normal' mutants were damn good at looking down on ferals for their animal nature and supposed 'degenerate' behavior. Animals. Uncontrollable. Uncivilized. Even the most violent mutant who wasn't feral could feel better about themselves when confronted with a feral in human shape who snarled and clawed.
Then finally he heard it. The piano, notes floating softly through the air. She must have the door closed to the music room.
He so rarely heard her sing, he doubted anyone else in the mansion knew she could carry a tune. On those rare occasions she sang within his hearing he could feel everything in him smooth out. Her voice was low, like honey and butter with a dash of cinnamon.
So he stood and listened outside the door of the music room, his senses filled with her voice and scent and stole the song she hadn't meant for his ears. It was old… had been new a few decades ago maybe, and sad. And she sang it as if it was new and the pain in it fresh as a new wound, still bleeding.
"Turn down the lights
Turn down the bed
Turn down these voices
Inside my head
Lay down with me
Tell me no lies
Just hold me close
Don't patronize
Don't patronize
'Cause I can't make you love me
If you don't
You can't make your heart feel
Something it won't
Here in the dark
In this final hour
I will lay down my heart
And I'll feel the power but you won't
No you won't…"
He could feel how it fit her, the words some other woman had written, wrapped around her soul, saying everything she didn't or wouldn't. He hoped she wasn't thinking of him as she sang. Part of him, a selfish part, hoped she was. Because if she was…he could finally ignore everything the righteous folks had been saying since he'd found her in the snow.
"I'll close my eyes
Then I won't see
The love you don't feel
When you're holding me
Mornin' will come
And I'll do what's right
Just give me till then
To give up this fight
And I will give up this fight
'Cause I can't make you love me
If you don't
You can't make your heart feel
Somethin it won't
Here in the dark
In these final hours
I will lay down my heart
And I'll feel the power but you won't
No you won't…
'Cause I can't make you love me...
If you don't..."
He opened the door to the room as she was fingering the last notes, her voice drifting to his ears more strongly now that the inch and a half of oak wasn't in the way. "Ain't no use in trying…anymore…"
"Marie," He shut the door behind him and she jolted in shock and dismay. And those eyes, those beautiful eyes that had changed color sometime after the Cure, were wide with surprise and dark with sorrow. He hated seeing that look, like there was too much pain inside her and it would leak out in tears or song.
"L-Logan…" She stuttered over his name and he knew. Knew. It was him. She had feelings for him. More than the kid's crush or the teen girl's fantasy. Feelings that trembled through her voice and hung in the air between them.
"Marie." He locked the door with a soft click and walked slowly towards her slender form, frozen on the piano bench. "All it'd have taken was a word from you darlin'."
She stood, maybe to argue and maybe to just be on the same level as he was, but he didn't care. She was close enough now, and he was going to show her what she meant to him. Her waist was slender under his hands, her curves just right as he pulled her up against his body and dipped his head, his lips finally, finally, tasting hers.
He felt the pull, the tug of her mutation for a half a second, and her reaching for him, her gloves discarded on the piano top, soft white hands winding into his hair, her mouth surrendering to his. And her mutation halted, controlled, but not before the flood of everything he was feeling fed through her lips. Need, desire, love, the possessive nature of the man and animal, and belonging.
He pulled back a bit. Seemed only fair to give her a chance to hit him, she hadn't had much choice about the kiss after all. The green eyes were dark with another emotion now, "I belong to you sugar?"
It took him a minute to realize what she was asking and another half second to shake his head. Hurt flashed over her face and he hastened to answer her, the truth hard to say but it couldn't be denied. "No, darlin', I belong to you." He lifted her so he could bury his face in her neck and soft dark waves of hair. "I always belonged to you Marie. Since you asked if my claws hurt. I'm yours."
He'd never smelt the scent that blazed off her now, didn't know what it was until he lifted his head and saw her face. Joy. She was glad. Happy that he was hers. And then she made him near giddy with the same feeling. "It's the same for me sugar. I'm yours. I'm always gonna be yours."
He sat down on the piano bench and held her to him, even the animal in him was satisfied with holding his mate in his arms, long after the school began to wake up around them.
Author's Note: Just something that sprang into my head this morning. It might end up with another chapter or two. Nothing too lengthy. Hope you enjoy.
