He rubbed his hands as he walked down the quiet halls of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Everyone was asleep by now. Everyone but him… Once again, he had woken up, wet with sweat and his heart pounding in his chest. As so many times before, he had sat up, trying to convince himself that it had just been another nightmare…

You should think that he had gotten used to the nightly ritual, after fifteen years… but this one… this nightmare had been different. Much different from all of the others. Normally he would dream about people whose names he didn't remember the next day, and wasn't even sure that he ever had met, but tonight... He clenched his fists as he once again heard her scream for help in the back of his head. She hadn't been screaming his name, but he knew that she had been calling to him, begging him to free her from the machine she was trapped in…

He could still recall the feeling of her lying there, lifeless in his arms, just like she had a few days ago. Just like that night, he had pulled off his glove, ready to give her all of his healing. He remembered not caring if it would take all of his life force, not caring if it meant that he would never wake up again afterward... as long as she would live.

He sighed and rubbed his palm. Just like it had been, his nightmare had shown him laying his hand on her face, waiting for his powers to leave his body and make her heart beat again. He could still feel her cold cheek against his palm… feel how his heart sank as he realized that he had been too late. That he hadn't been able to save her. Tears had filled his eyes as he had held her as close as possible.

But instead of her mutation returning, to take his, she had just opened her eyes and pushed herself free of his embrace. Her eyes had been dark and cold, as they had stared at him. "You promised that you would take care of me." Somehow her voice had been both quiet and ear-splitting at the same time. "You promised…"

"I know…" he had heard himself say. "I'm sorry…"

She shook her head and took a step backward, closer to the edge. They were no longer standing on the Statue of Liberty. They were standing on some kind of small grey plate, in the middle of nowhere.

He reached his hands towards her. "Please… let me help you."

"You can't."

Suddenly the three adamantium claws made their way through his skin and past his fingers. He couldn't control them. He couldn't prevent them from cutting through her black cloth and into her chest. She didn't scream. He did. She just looked down at the three knives in her chest, before she looked back up at him. She didn't say anything, but her eyes were screaming: "What have you done?", as she leaned backward, leaving a bloody trail on each claw.

"No… NO!" He ran towards her, reaching for her hand. They were inches apart, but the distance was too large… It was too late. "Marie!" he called out her name, watching her fall from the grey plate, and into the bottomless precipice darkness beneath them.

That was when he had woken up. "Marie…" he had whispered. A part of him wanted to run to her room and make sure that she was okay, but his better judgment stopped him. It had just been another nightmare. Of course, the girl was okay. He had just seen her at dinner last night, and she had seemed to be fine there. There was no reason to worry, he told himself.

And yet he was now walking around, restless. Unable to fall asleep, all because of a stupid nightmare, about something he knew hadn't happened. He had saved her. She was fine. So why the hell couldn't he stop worrying about her?

"Maybe because you're leaving her in a few days, bub?" An inner voice suggested. No, that was stupid. Yes, he had made her a promise, but she knew that it wouldn't mean that he would stick around forever, right?

Besides: she would be much better off here, with these geeks, than with him. She would be fine here. She would be happy here.

He was so caught up in convincing himself of the lies, that it wasn't before he heard the small whimpering sounds, that he realized that he was walking past her door.

He stopped automatically when he recognized the sound through the wooden door. It was the kind of whimpering you would make when you were trying not to cry, but the tears and pain wouldn't let you hold it back anymore… He took one step closer to her door, and then the smell filled his nose. He would recognize it anywhere. How many times hadn't he made the red liquid spill all over the place when he had lost his temper and his claws had cut through whoever had pissed him off?

No… "Marie!"

o*o*o*

She had been tossing and turning for hours under the covers, in spite of how little sleep she had gotten the last couple of nights… Every time she was about to fall asleep, she would see blood... hear the screams... feel his pain, before she finally woke up again, gasping for air and crying from the nightmares, which she knew, was all something he had experienced in his past. Poor Logan… No one should have to live through that…

But tonight it was different. For once it wasn't Logan's past or David's ideas or Magneto's failed plans for the future of the mutant kind, that was roaming around in her head. For once it was her own thoughts… her own misery, that was keeping her awake.

She had been doing the breathing exercises the professor had suggested for god knows how long by now, and she was still wide awake. She finally gave up and pushed the covers aside. She didn't really know why she walked to the bathroom. She didn't need to pee or anything… She just needed to do something...

She flipped the light switch and squinted when the small room was covered with light. She rubbed her eyes until they were used to the sharp brightness.

When she looked up, a pair of brown eyes met her. She stared at the girl who stared back at her.

The girl seemed normal. Like there was nothing wrong with her. Anyone, who didn't know her, would probably mistake her for a young high school student. They wouldn't be able to see the truth. They wouldn't be able to see how dangerous she was. The danger was invisible to the world until it would be too late.

She sighed and pressed her palm against the cold mirror. The girl did the same, still looking at her. She seemed so familiar, like someone she once knew. A sweet, innocent girl, who had good grades, good friends, loving parents. She had had a home, in a peaceful neighborhood, a place she had felt like was her home, where she would always be safe.

Her name had been Marie D'Ancanto. She had died almost a year ago, leaving someone else behind. Someone who looked just like Marie, so no one would be able to tell the difference. In fact, the only visible thing that had changed was the white locks in her hair. The proof that she was no longer Marie. The proof that her father was right: she was dangerous. Nothing but a Rogue, who would hurt people. She knew what would have happened if Magneto's plan had worked… countless of people would have become mutants. They would all have become rogue-people as her father had called them… but only for a short amount of time, before the unnatural change would have made their bodies break down… and kill them.

If it hadn't been for Logan and the other X-men… if they hadn't stopped the machine… Her eyes were getting wet and her hands clenched the table by the thought of the hundreds of deaths, she would have been responsible for… At least she would be dead herself too… Then she wouldn't be able to hurt any more innocent people… Maybe it would be for the best? She had considered it before… to kill herself. But she hadn't been able to do it, knowing that it would break her mother's heart when she would come in and find her…

But her mother wasn't here. She would probably never find out. It would be easy… just a small cut…

She got down on all fours by the edge of her bed and pulled out her bag. Her hand soon found the jack-knife at the bottom. A part of her had thought that it would be a stupid idea to pack a knife. Why would she need it? She had thought that no one could hurt her if she had poisonous skin (she knew now that she was very wrong at that point).

The knife flipped open with a small click. Rogue sighed. This would be for the best. She knew that. She sat like this for long, the knife in her right hand, the visible veins in her left wrist, tears running from both her eyes. It would be over soon. Just a small cut and it was done forever. Slowly the knife got closer to the bare skin.

She closed her eyes. She would rather die, looking like she was sleeping. She let the blade slide across her wrist. The pain was burning as her skin was parted, making her clench her teeth, to hold back the cry, but somehow… somehow it almost felt… good? As if she was finally feeling some of the pain she had inflicted on others? As if she was finally getting what she deserved. She didn't know how long she sat like that, enjoying the justice. She had felt this before... the first night she was here… Where she had walked into Logan's room, wanting to wake him from his nightmare, and he had ended up stabbing her in the chest. It was the worst physical pain she ever had felt, but as she thought back on it, it had actually been relieving… She had nearly died, just like David, after the kiss…

Rogue opened her eyes and looked at the red line on her wrist. She knew that she hadn't cut deep enough to hit the artery. She lifted the knife again, but instead of making the wound deeper, she placed the blade a few inches further down, making a similar cut. It hurt and she whimpered softly from the pain. But just as before, it felt good…

She deserved this. She deserved every single cut, every bit of the pain for what she had done to the people around her. Her skin deserved this for hurting every single person it touched.

Then the warm liquid, ran down her arm, leaving red trails on her skin, before it fell to the floor, in a pool, which got larger for every single cut the knife made. She knew that she was losing a lot of blood, but that didn't really matter right now. All that mattered was the sweet, painful relief. She didn't care how big the pool got. She didn't care how much blood she lost. Maybe… Maybe this would be her end after all? A small smile accrued on her lips. That would actually be okay. Then she would die, with the feeling that she had paid for her mistakes, and she would never, ever hurt again.

Who would care if she died anyway?

The Professor… He would probably be sad because he hadn't been able to help her. The first day she had met him, he had told her that he was very sorry, but she would probably never be able to ever touch anyone again, without hurting them. He had also told her that it wouldn't have to mean that her life was over, even though it might seem that way at this point. He had assured her she would still be able to have a good life. He had given her the example of himself: he would never be able to walk again, but that didn't stop him from doing what he had always wanted. So she had decided to give his school a chance. The first day had actually been okay, and she had started to think that there really was a chance that she would fit in here… get friends… an education, a new home…

But that was never going to happen now. Not when everybody had seen what she could do. Now all of them were scared of being near her as if just being near her would hurt them… She had asked the Professor if she could have a room for herself. She simply couldn't handle the way Jubilee and Kitty would look at her when they thought she didn't notice.

The knife reached the elbow joint, but instead of continuing on the upper arm, she placed the blade near her wrist again, this time dragging it across the cuts she had already made. Making X'es. Just like the gene that made her different. Her rogue gene…

The only one who was still talking to her after that night was Bobby. She liked his company. He seemed nice. But she had learned from her mistakes. She knew that he was hoping that there was some way to get around her mutation. That there was some way he would be able to kiss her, probably go even further… But that was never going to happen. She wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn't even interested in him that way. But even if she had been… It was a ridiculous thought. It was impossible for her to be physical with him. Or anyone else. She didn't believe that Bobby was in love with her though. Just attracted. Just like David. Just like all of the men she had met on her journey.

If you could call it a journey to run away when your parents had gotten to sleep, spending most of your money to get out of Mississippi and only being able to afford one meal a day for two weeks until she had run out of money. She had been sitting on the street with a small plastic cup for hours and dreamed that she could go back home. But that was no longer an option. She could never return. She didn't belong there...

Rogue stared out into the darkness of her room as she thought back on that... fateful night. It was dead silent around her. The only thing she could hear was her own whimpering breath, and the knife meeting her skin with rhythmical movements. She didn't see where she cut. She didn't have to. She could feel the X'es being made one by one, just like her rogue gene, being replicated in her body all the time.

Instead, she saw the large man with the black-bearded, who had approached her that night. He had asked her if it was a smart business she was driving as if begging on the street was something to joke about… She had wanted to give back a sassy answer, but she hadn't had the energy. He had then asked her if she wouldn't like to go someplace warm?

She knew better than going with strangers, let alone talking to them… but she had been sitting here for hours and it was getting dark. If she had stayed there, she would have gotten sick, and that was the last thing she needed…

He had brought her to his truck. As he had promised it was warm… so warm that she could feel her toes. She didn't know how long she sat there, just enjoying not being out in the cold. He had even given her something to eat…

"Listen, girl, if you give me a ride, I'll give you one too."

She had stared at him, at first confused, but then she realized what he was talking about. "No… I don't… I'm not…" she had managed to say.

"Hmm… thought so," he had mumbled. "Listen; how about that you give me a handjob? Then I'll give you enough to buy a bus ticket and some more to eat, how about that, girl?"

She knew what her answer should have been. She knew that she shouldn't even have said anything, just opened the door and walked away. Walked back out in the cold, without anything… It was almost dark outside and she would be hungry again soon… "Can I keep my gloves on?" she had asked instead.

The request hadn't raised any questions.

It had been her first sexual favor, but far from her last. Most times she had gotten away with a handjob, but some of them wanted more and she had agreed to blowjobs. Even though she would never have skin to skin contact with any of them, she felt more disgusted with herself for every time, feeling like nothing but a dirty whore… but it was the only way she could survive. Most of the guys were pigs that had ideas that they could do whatever they wanted, but they paid her, either but money, food or rides.

And then there was the last one… The Wolverine... Logan.

The thought of him made the knife go deeper than before. The red drops were running down her arm, almost as fast as the salty tears down her cheeks…

Logan… He had given her a ride after he found her in the back of his truck… he had given her something to eat… he hadn't asked her for any kind of sexual favors… he had been nice to her, even though he had been able to smell what she really was... treated her as if nothing was wrong with her…

She removed the red blade, and studied her forearm… Just looked at it, the damaged skin… This was what it was supposed to look like… then people would know what she was. She didn't know how many cuts she had made… There were lots of small X'es overlapping each other. The burning pain was almost too much for her, but she deserved it… It would all be over soon now, she thought, as she placed the knife upon the very first cut on her wrist.

It felt like it was the right thing to do. She was okay with this. Rogue wasn't supposed to be apart of this world… She was going to miss it though… to never be able to enjoy the fresh air, the smell of grass, fell the sun warming her skin…

And him…

He had been the very first person to be nice to her for other reasons than sex… the first person to care about her for 8 months… And she had hurt him. Just like everyone else she cared about. She could still see the pain painted on his face, before her eyes.

The knife was nice and slowly pressing through her flesh.

She kept telling herself that she had to do it. But that was a lie. She didn't have to take his powers. It would have been much better if she had just let herself go with the sweet relief of death. If she had, he wouldn't have had to risk his life to save her. She had been able to smell his blood, when she had woken up, realizing that she was in his arms, her skin against his. That would never happen again… She would never hurt him, or anyone else again.

The knife was deep now. The blade had reached past her artery, and the pain made her cry out, louder than before, even though she tried to hold it back.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the bed, resting. Trying to calm her breathing, but whimpering sounds escaped her throat. For every breath she took, it was like the pain that had spread itself from her wrist, became less… less... Soon she couldn't feel it… or anything else. A sweet, cool numbness was spreading from the sharp piece of metal, and through her parted veins, running down her arm and filling her body.

She laid there, the knife still held tight in her hand, just waiting to fall into the deep, permanent sleep. Far away, she was able to hear some kind of knocking noise and a familiar voice, calling out a familiar name: "Marie!"

There was no Marie here. Soon there would be no one here… Only an empty vessel, covered with once untouchable skin.

o*o*o*

Logan didn't hesitate. The adamantium dug through the lock and he pushed the door open.

His heart skipped a beat. His powers allowed him to see pretty clearly in the darkness. It was one thing to smell her blood, but the sight that met him was almost too much. God knew that he probably had seen more blood than most people just counting the last 15 years, but none of that had made him feel so… scared…

There was a large red pool on the floor, and in the middle sat Marie. Her flesh on her arm was torn apart, blood dripping. The skin that wasn't red from blood, was as pale as her white locks. Her small cries had changed into the sound of very weak breathing. No!

This time Logan didn't call for help. Instead, he ran over and fell on his knees beside her, calling her name, as he pressed his palm against her colorless, tear-stained cheek.

The seconds it took her mutation to kick in, felt like hours. But soon he felt all of his energy and powers, leaving his body, floating out through his hand. But he didn't care about that, he didn't care that his vision was lowered to the point of blindness, that his ears couldn't catch every single sound in the mansion, that he couldn't smell the overwhelming odor of Marie's blood, he didn't give a fuck that the adamantium around his bones became so heavy that he couldn't move. The only thing that mattered, was saving Marie. He couldn't lose. He just couldn't!

Marie's eyes shot wide open and gasped for air.

She looked around as she was coming through. She was still in her room… but it didn't seem so dark as before… She was slowly getting back the feeling in her body… why was she not dead? She looked at her arm, which was still covered in blood, but all of the cuts were gone… What the..? It wasn't before she heard the choked gasp, to her right, that she noticed that there was something warm and soft was pressed against her cheek…

She turned her head. No! Logan was kneeling beside, her eyes halfway closed, mouth open for him to breath, veins visible all over his face.

She instantly grabbed the sleeve around his wrist, ripping it from her face. He collapsed on the floor beside her, gasping and struggling for his mind to become somewhat hole again. "Marie…" he gasped, again and again, trying to focus his eyes on her. "Marie…"

She just stared at him, tears running from her eyes while her mouth was covered with her free hand. It had happened again. She had been dying, Logan had saved her and gotten hurt in the process. Why did this keep happening? Why couldn't she escape this Hell, instead of dragging others into it? This just proved it. She wasn't good for anything but hurting…

"Marie." His voice had become clearer, and he was struggling to sit up and get closer to her, but she tore herself away.

Logan stopped in his movement and just looked at her. "Marie," he tried again.

She shook her head, eyes filling with even more tears. "I'm not Marie…" she cried quietly. "Marie is dead. She died the day this came alive;" She raised her hand still holding the knife, to her wrist again, not caring about the fact that she had Logan's healing factor now. She had to try. To cut a hole deep enough for her to escape through…

Despite him still feeling fuzzy, Logan's hand was faster than hers, and it grabbed around the blade, not caring about it cutting through his fingers.

He managed to tear it out of her hand, and tossed it behind him, out of her reached.

"Why?" she cried. "Why do you have to do this?"

"Me?" he hissed. "Why are you doing this?"

She looked away. She couldn't look into his hazel brown eyes, that usually gave her comfort...

"Marie?"

"Stop calling me that!" she yelled. Why did she even tell him that name? It was not who she was anymore… she was Rogue, she had told him that!

"What kind of name is Rogue?"

"I don't know. What kind of name is Wolverine?"

"My name is Logan."

"Marie."

It had felt so natural to say. Just as natural as the times she had presented herself as Rogue to her fellow students. They had just accepted it. A few of them had given her a funny look, but none of them had asked what her real name was. Only Logan. As if he thought that there was something more to her, than someone who couldn't be trusted...

Logan froze, staring at her in shock. He wished that she would look him in the eye, but it was clear that she was trying to avoid it.

"Please go, Logan. Just leave me alone," she said quietly.

"If you think I'm leaving you like this, you're damn wrong."

"Please. I don't want to hurt you." Again.

"You won't…

"Yes, I will!" She turned and looked at him, eyes filled with sorrow and self-hatred. "I hurt everybody! I hurt David when he kissed me, I hurt my parents by being a mutant. And I hurt you, not even a day after we met, then the night after that, and now." She wrapped her arms around her legs. "You don't know what it's like, to be afraid of your powers. Having everyone around you, stare at you with fear… for your parents to treat you as a monster… a Rogue." The last words were spat out as if they tasted of the despise she felt for herself and her skin.

Logan hesitated before he said quietly: "That's not true, Marie. You know that. You saw it in that bar. And you know from my memories, that it wasn't the first time. At least in the years, I remember. And I doubt that it was different before that."

Rogue covered her mouth. How could she have been so thoughtless? She knew Logan had his own demons, and how horrible they were, and yet she was sitting here complaining and whining about how shitty her life was. At least she remembered her life, while it was still good… "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Logan, I…"

"I know that you think you're alone, kid," he muttered. "But you're not."

She wanted to argue. He had given her a similar monolog when she had broken down on the train, and she had agreed to go back to the school with him and give the Professor a chance to help her. But not even Professor X could take away the fear the other students felt when she was around. Even in a group of mutants, she was a freak.

"You have my memories. Lot's of them, which I wished that you would never see," Logan continued He leaned back against the bed beside her. "One of the first I have is waking up in the middle of ruins on some island. There was a dead woman who had been shot in the stomach and some guy, who told me that I was the one who had destroyed the place. He advised me to get the hell out of there and so I did. It didn't take me long to realize that I had no idea where to go, so I walked until I reached a bar. Some guy pissed me of and these popped out." Logan held out his fist and his claws slowly slid out between his knuckles. "I had no idea where they came from. They stabbed the guy in the stomach. Everybody stared at me. Someone yelled about mutants and dangers and shit. I ran out of there, and hid in the nearest woods over the night, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Nothing made sense."

She looked at him as he told the story, which she remembered, and she could almost feel how scared and confused he had been. Just as she felt now…

Logan went on about how he got into more fights and then someone had suggested that he should try cage-fighting to earn some money. He didn't say it out loud, but you didn't have to be a genius to figure out that his life had been anything but nice.

"I can't even show the scars from the times I tried to kill myself, cause they just disappeared."

She gasped. "You tried to…"

"Yeah. Multiple times. I kept thinking that there had got to be some way, but there wasn't. So instead I decided to keep going. Thinking that someday I might find a meaning with this shitshow we call life. Maybe I would even find out who I used to be."

"But you're still looking," she mumbled.

"Yep," he sighed. "Listen, kid, I ain't gonna sit here and promise you that everything will be okay if you just hold on and someday soon you'll find happiness, cause I can't. The only one who can do that is yourself. You're young. You have lots of time to make things better, for yourself, but you're the only one who can make that happen."

She looked away again. She knew that he was right, but… "I don't know if I can."

Logan sat up on his knees again. He reached out for and her and even though she tried to lean away, he still managed to cup her head between his hands, having her hair, separate his skin from hers. He had had enough. He couldn't stand having her talk about herself like this. "Well, I do! You are much stronger than you think, Marie. I know you don't believe it, but at least believe me. I know your life has been a hell ever since you got your powers, but, please: don't do this! If not for your own sake, then for mine!"

She just looked at him, tears running down her cheeks. She wished that she could go back in time just a year or something, where she had been happy with her family. Everything had been great. But that would mean she would never have met Logan. Even though he knew what she was, even though she had hurt him three times, nearly killing him, he still cared about her. He was still here, trying to convince her that she would be able to survive this and not kill herself.

The stream of tears was running down her cheek, and she found herself practically throwing herself into Logan's chest, crying her heart out. He wrapped his arms around her without their bare skin touching each other, and rubbed her back to give her comfort.

After sitting like this for a while, Logan led her to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet while he found two washcloths and wetted one of them before he knelt down in front of her. He unfolded the dry cloth on his left palm, holding it out to her. She hesitated a moment before she laid her red arm on the cloth.

The wet cloth was hot, but not burning against her sore skin. Logan wiped it up and down her arm with such gentle movements. It actually felt good. It was a nice temperature, that felt kind of comforting as it washed away the coagulate blood.

Afterwards, she went to change her cloth, while Logan tried to wash away the red pool at the edge of her bed. He didn't have much experience in cleaning, but he still managed to wipe off most of the blood. But some of it had already dried out into the wooden floor. He kept pressing the cloth harder, but the red stain remained.

A pair of naked feet stopped beside him.

"I can't get it off," he muttered.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she just crawled back under the covers on her bed, holding them tight. She never wanted anyone to know this, but now everyone would see what had happened tonight.

Logan stood up and took the bloody cloth to the bathroom tossing it into the hamper. He turned around looking at the bed, where Marie was trying to hide herself under the covers.

He flipped off the lights and walked towards the door, that had been open the entire time.

"I don't want you to go." Her voice was low but he still heard her.

"I'm right here, darling," he said and closed the broken door. "And I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

He walked to the other side of the bed and laid down on the top of the covers behind her.

"You promise?"

"Yeah. I promise." He laid his arm around her.

It took a while before she finally fell asleep. Logan didn't sleep more that night. Instead, he'd just lay there, listening to the calm sound of her breathing. In, out, in, out. It was much stronger now, that it had been less than half an hour ago. Less than half an hour ago he had nearly lost her. If he had gotten out of bed 5 minutes later, it would have been too late. He would have found her lifeless body and cried out her name, so the whole mansion would have heard him.

All because nobody had been able to see her pain. She had put up a facade, to make it seem like she was okay after all that had happened and everyone had believed it! A few days ago on the train, she had opened up to him, showing him some of the cracks beneath the surface, but far from all of them. He should have known that there was more than just a kiss ending with a coma and guilty conscience. He should have thought about how horrible she had felt… But he had thought that a promise about being there and a small hug had been enough. But it wasn't and he had realized that too late.

o*o*o*

Two days later, they left the mansion, heading north together on Cyclops motorcycle. Logan waited patiently, leaning against the door casing, while Marie thanked the professor for everything. He had never been much for partings himself, probably because he had never had someone who he cared about enough to say goodbye to before leaving.

But he had someone now. Someone whom he cared about and who cared about him.

They took care of each other in their travel through the states. Every night they would hold each other, keeping away each other's nightmares, making each other safe.

He hadn't expected that she would want to stick around with him though, but she did. Even when she saw him the way didn't want her to see: See the animal on the inside, make its way to the surface, but she was there to calm him every time

Even after she had taken the cure she stayed with him, showing him all of the affection she had felt towards him but had to bottle up all these years.

He would lay there looking at her, afterward appreciating her beauty, and hating her insecurity.

But after a few months, her powers returned, right in the middle of a kiss. Even though she yelled that he should leave her, to go find someone that would make him happy and not hurt him, he stayed, holding her, loving her every night, until the fateful day where his greatest fear became a reality, thanks to the government who let the poison run through the water pipes.

She gave him a small smile before she became limp in his arms like so many years ago and he cried out her name when not even his healing could save her.