[The Gift]

Logan dropped into the chair in his room, his mind still spinning after spending an evening with Marie for the first time in years. It had been so good to see her. To talk to her. A lot about her was different, but she was the same in all the ways that mattered. Except for her hair. Goddamn, he just couldn't get over that short spiky hair.

He'd always loved her hair. It had been so long and thick, shining around her shoulders in smooth waves. Something primal in him had recognized it as a sign of fertility and youth. The white streaks were his favorite, an outward symbol of their connection that night in the torch. She had died. He had given her life.

It wasn't that he didn't like short hair as much as it was that he'd been disturbed by the idea of her cutting the symbol of that bond with him.

Even so, it was only hair. It was the woman inside who he'd missed. They'd had a good long talk. He'd loved hearing about Tibet and though it had been difficult, sharing with her about Japan had brought him an unexpected peace. Mariko would have wanted that for him and it felt good, felt right to share her story with Marie, the only other woman in this life who'd ever loved him enough to see that the man who always healed carried scars on the inside, and sometimes even he needed to be tenderly sheltered from the pain.

Her tongue had been sharp in the teasing way he enjoyed and her smile had been a little distant, but still bright and engaging. He hadn't enjoyed an evening so much in years. It had been hard to say goodnight. Sharing the burden of his story had made it a little lighter and he'd taken pleasure in the memories she'd stirred in him and in her easy company.

She'd been awkward at the end of the night as they'd walked out together. Her heartbeat had been fast and a little wild as she'd stepped closer to him. For a moment he thought she might hug him goodbye and then she'd pressed an old, worn envelope into his hand instead.

"What's this, kid?"

"It's a present from Tibet."

"Really?" He was kind of surprised by that.

"It's... well..." she was all shifty and nervous. "I don't know if it's a good gift, really. It's- it's okay if you don't want to keep it. It suddenly doesn't seem like it was the right choice."

Now he was really intrigued.

"Thanks, darlin'. I'm sure I'll like it real good, whatever it is." She did not look convinced.

He looked at the envelope again, curious. He didn't get many presents. This was the first in years.

"Open it later, okay? I just, well... just thought it belonged with you."

She'd driven away after a quick goodbye and he'd shoved the envelope into his pocket. Now, in the quiet of his room, he dug it out and turned it over in the wan, artificial light. He wondered what was in it. A letter maybe?

He sucked in a hard breath when he opened it and saw a long, shining lock of her hair, some chestnut, some silver, coiled in a slender circle.

Unexpectedly, he felt tears sting his eyes. How had she known? So much water had passed under the bridge, they were both so different now and yet she still knew how to read his unspoken needs and soothe his silent hurts. He was humbled by the precious gift.

It felt like the softest silk under his fingertips. It was softer still against his lips.

Almost without conscious thought, Logan retrieved the two paper cranes from his wallet. He didn't carry them in the pocket over his heart anymore, but they were still always on him somewhere, a talisman of sorts. A touchstone to replace the tags; a light in the darkness and a balm to his soul on more nights than he could remember. They were all that had held him to this world after Mariko died.

He set the two folded cranes on the desk. They were both battered and worn, spattered and stained dark with his blood from countless injuries over the years. He had touched them both a thousand times. The larger, white crane had taken more damage and was more fragile. The smaller green crane had fared a little better, the paper was a little sturdier and the folds a little more crisp. He liked the way the pair looked together; one a little beat up and worse for the wear and one jaunty, with attitude. They had personality and character, his only two loyal friends.

Seeing them next to the lock of hair gave him an idea. His hands moved reverently, slowly and with great care as he gently unfolded the larger crane. He stroked the silky lock of her hair one more time and then placed it on the paper and carefully refolded the crane with the lock of hair tucked safely inside.

It somehow seemed right to put the one gift inside the other and the larger crane was sturdier now, bolstered and reinforced from within. The thought made him smile.

He put them to his lips, eyes closed as was his habit, and then he slipped them both inside the small paper envelope and tucked it back into his wallet. Having it there settled something in him that had been growling deep and low for a long time. The gift wasn't an answer. He didn't even think it was a peace offering.

But it was a beginning.

The first step on a long road back.

~ooOoo~

Logan was thankful for the new balance in his life that his years in Japan had taught him. Living at the school had never been easy. It was harder now in some ways than it ever had been before, even though Marie no longer lived there. He wondered how much of that was really to keep a low profile for her undercover work and how much was because she needed the space.

Once this place had felt - not like home, exactly - but at least welcoming and relatively safe. It felt too small now that he'd known a much larger slice of life; physically, emotionally, geographically. He wondered if it was that way for Marie, too. What had it been like for her to give up the freedom she'd found in Tibet for the responsibilities and rules of this place? The idea of a private apartment instead of a room at the school appealed to him too, but that seemed too permanent somehow. He hadn't intended to stay indefinitely. He wasn't quite passing through, either. He owed a debt and Storm would collect it in the Professor's absence.

The school was the same in many ways. Full of the busy trample of feet and the incessant chatter of dozens of kids who were never truly silent. The scents were the worst; an unpleasant cocktail of perfume and sweat and raging, hormonal teens. It was a unique blend of bravado and insecurity underscored with unrequited feelings, unsatisfied lust and the furtive musk of solitary release. For a man who experienced the world very much through scent, it verged on actual physical discomfort. In general he didn't much like other people and he really didn't like them in groups. Those feelings were tempered, softened by the fact they were children and that most of them seemed to genuinely like him despite his gruff exterior. That part didn't unsettle him as much as it used to now that he could imagine his daughter's face among them.

Meditation was a welcome escape from the overwhelming barrage of sensory input. He began and ended most days that way now, on his knees in silence, listening within to a part of himself that had blossomed in Japan. The boundaryless feeling made his grief sharper at first, but through breath and stillness he was able to think of small things that soothed his tired, ragged heart. Northern lights rippling over a fresh snowfall... the wind in his face... the sharp, coppery tang of blood on the air... Marie's warm brown eyes and wry smile.

He had been startled the first time she appeared to him in that place. Long ago, her image used to bring him comfort; that expressive face of hers asking him if it hurt when the claws came out. That memory felt so far away now, that old life where the only peace he'd ever found was when thoughts of her pulled him from the wreckage of his silent reverie. Even then as a shadow in his mind, she'd had the power to lift him from the darkness and bring an empty weightlessness he'd so desperately needed, but it had always come with a price; dark feelings of guilt and shame for wanting things she didn't even have the capacity to consent to, never mind understand.

It was surprising to realize that he could think of her now and simply be soothed by her, without all the baggage from their previous interactions. They'd grown beyond running, beyond the reach of ugly whispers about the nature of their relationship. The eyes on them at the roadhouse bar had been jealous, not accusatory, and that had felt damned good to have his enjoyment of her not painted in sinister, pedophilic overtones. They'd just been two friends having a drink.

He'd waited a long time for that, though as good as it was, it was still a little painful. She'd grown up and they'd grown apart. He missed her innocence and was surprised to realize the loss of it disappointed him somehow. She was still that kid who'd brazened her way into his truck so long ago, but now she was also something... more. And the more he thought about that, the more he liked it. The idea grew on him as the weeks passed.

Something in him had needed to tell her about Japan and Mariko and his child. He knew she'd feel more sympathy than jealousy, and she of all people would understand how that experience had changed him. She would understand the meaning of him telling her about it all. She'd always been his safe place to fall. He'd been that for her too. And even now, even with all that had passed between them, they still had that. In some ways, they were still the only place the other could go with certain things.

Two weeks became four and then six. He had not expected his work at the mansion to help soothe the sting of old hurts and yet for some inexplicable reason, the pain eased with each day he spent surrounded by the children. He rarely saw Marie. Their work kept them busy and on the rare occasions he did run across her, she was soft with him, but distant, and he became aware while she was willing to entertain his tentative overtures and even accept the pieces of himself he was willing to share, she kept herself closed off and offered little of her private self in return. He understood that distance was a direct result of choices he had made, but he still found it frustrating. Above all, that was the one fence he wanted to mend.

He retreated into meditation, and yet even that place wasn't truly an escape. Part of the balance he had learned had come from embracing the animal within. Locking that part of himself away had only served to fuel the rage and hatred that burned within him. When you cage a thing, all it wants is escape, by whatever means necessary.

Here he had learned to exist as one seamless, complete being. Not wholly a man or an animal, but one consciousness. One voice. It hadn't been an easy or enjoyable process and he was only beginning to learn how to extend that union outside meditation, but it was a tentative start. On the surface, it seemed to make no sense. Embrace rage to find peace and yet he had felt the tide turn with those first terrifying waves of acceptance.

He was so tired of fighting. They both were.

On that they were in perfect agreement. Happiness was not for them, but they were stubborn enough to still hope to earn a shot at finding a small sliver of peace.

~ooOoo~

Logan liked working on engines. The simple work occupied his hands and let his mind drift. He was underneath one of the school's vehicles changing the oil when he had his first conscious fantasy about Marie. It was relatively tame as his fantasies went. A stray thought about what it would be like to be in the wind with her, her arms around him, a bike rumbling powerfully under them and a long empty stretch of open road. It was hazy and indistinct. He didn't really have a plan or destination in mind, though when they reached that unnamed place, his thoughts took a sudden, explicit detour. Her taste. Her scent. Her body under his, slick with want. Knees up high, inviting him to go deep. His body had an immediate reaction and he was surprised by the intensity of it. It was strange and nice and he found himself smiling up at the underside of the vehicle for no particular reason other than sometimes it was just damned pleasant to have a hard-on over a pretty girl.

"Come on. I think it's empty."

"Yeah, come on. Don't be such a baby. We're alone."

"You don't have to sound so disappointed."

"Admit it. You were sort of hoping you'd run into him here."

"Can you blame me? He's fucking hot."

That broke them all up.

"Here. It'll be fine. Nobody will find us."

Logan's smile faded as his quiet solitude was interrupted by the hushed voices of three giggling teen girls. He was on the far side of the garage under a car and they hadn't noticed him, but the concrete and the acoustic nature of the structure coupled with his gifts made it sound as if they were whispering directly in his ear. He could smell them too. They were distinctly different. The loudest one smelled of artificial strawberries, probably cheap lip gloss or bubblegum. The second stunk of cigarette smoke, mouthwash and the electric musk of ejaculate. Blowjob was his guess. The third one's scent was cloyingly floral with undertones of chocolate and old blood.

Just perfect. Hormonal teenagers with PMS. Why the fuck were they here interrupting the holy communion of man and engine?

The flick of a lighter echoed in his ears and his nose twitched as the very distinctive smell of pot wafted his way. His eyebrow rose. He should probably get up and say something, but he couldn't really be bothered. They weren't hurting anyone and he was probably the last person who should criticize that choice given his colorful past.

"Mmm... this is really good."

"See. I told you. It's no big deal."

Blowjob was obviously their little ringleader. Nice. He wondered if that was what she'd given in exchange for the pot. That's where he'd put his money. She was certainly a real prize.

"Well give me a turn, then. God, this is almost as good as watching him work out that one time. Those arms! Can you imagine them around you?"

"I'd rather imagine them holding me down. Or up against the wall."

"No joke."

Logan wondered which one of the little dipshits had caught their eye. They all looked like babies to him.

"For sure. He's, like, so totally yummy."

"Amen, sister. Even with all the hair. And that ass? .God!"

"I agree. That man is one hundred percent Grade A Prime Canadian Beef."

What the fuck?

"Did you see him after that Danger Room session with Colossus? In just the jeans and boots with his tank torn to ribbons? I almost had an orgasm."

Now he remembered her. She'd smelled like desperation and trouble, wet with lust and she'd all but devoured him with her eyes. Definitely still a kid, but some of them climbed aboard the express train to Slutsville early on and never looked back. He hadn't been the slightest bit interested. In fact, her lewd attention had turned his stomach.

"Oh yeah. I was ready to lick the sweat off him, girl."

"The line starts behind me..."

They all broke into another round of giggles.

Jesus. Three little cage bunnies in the making, right there. He was wiping off his hands and preparing to slide from under the car when he heard something that made his breath catch.

"Do you think the rumors about him are true?"

"That he has a horse dick?"

Logan rolled his eyes. Part of him enjoyed the compliment, however crass. The other part of him recoiled because it had come from a bunch of kids. What the hell? Was that what passed for girl talk these days? He made a face.

"Not that one! Though I'm sure that's true. Have you seen him in the leather? He's definitely packing. My guess is a solid eight. Uncut. But I mean that one about him and Rogue. I heard they were lovers back when she was a student here."

"No way! I thought he was banging Dr. Grey. That's what I heard."

"Maybe he was doing them both."

"Get out! Dr. Grey? No way. I heard he was totally into Rogue." That was Bubblegum again. She seemed marginally better than the other two. "Like he saved her life and all and gave her his dog tags. That was kind of romantic, don't you think?"

Logan hated hearing those girls talk so casually about things that were deeply private.

"She was totally jailbait. It was probably guilt and not love. I heard he claw-raped her."

What? He couldn't possibly have heard that right.

"He what?"

"You know. His claws. Just like a boner, right? He gets excited and out they come... a little violent catharsis and in they go again... It's not really that different, except, you know, they're not as messy." Blowjob would know, clearly.

Over the years, he'd heard a lot of unsavory things while listening hidden in the shadows, but this was the first time it had been personal. Her crude assessment sickened him. Was that what people really thought of him? For years he'd wrestled with being a thing, an experiment, an animal... but this, this was something different. Something darker. An ugly look at himself through a new lens. He'd never thought of his claws like that. As a symbol of male primacy, maybe, but never as a phallic metaphor. Jesus.

He wondered how Marie had ever seen through all of that. He hadn't been worthy then and he still wasn't now, but he was profoundly thankful she'd been able to look past whatever parts of him made people think such awful things.

"I don't know. I think it would depend on how he used them."

"I've definitely got some ideas."

"Oh, please. You couldn't handle a man like that even if he did give you a shot."

"Like you could? Come on."

"Hey, do you think that's why he came back? They say Rogue's been gone for a few years and he turns up a few months after she gets back? That sounds pretty hinky to me."

"Me too."

"I don't know. I met her the other day. She was kind to me. Quiet but strong without being a bitch, you know?" Okay, he might let that one live.

The others made ass kissing sounds.

"Come on you guys, stop it."

"Do you think he gets off on it?"

"On what, claw-raping little girls?"

Part of him was horrified. The other part of him wanted to give that snarky little bitch a personal demonstration of the claws in action. Let her see just how messy they could be.

"I don't think so. I don't think he's like that. He was nice to me the other day in the den. He explained icing like three times before I could really see what he was talking about with the puck." Now he had a face for Bubblegum. God, she couldn't be a day over fourteen.

"Pfff. Rogue got stabbed alone in his room. At night. You do the math."

"You have to admit. That does sound bad. Why else would she be there?"

"Well, we all know why you'd be there..."

"I fucking wish."

Not in a million goddamn years. The idea made his skin crawl. Even if she wasn't jailbait, he wouldn't fuck her with someone else's dick, much less his own.

"Do you think it was an accident? Like maybe the claws came out when he came? Or do you think he asked her for something she didn't wanna do and he got pissed when she resisted? He seems like the type to be into some pretty kinky shit and she was only seventeen."

What the fuck? He was stunned and horrified. Of course there had been a few rumors back in the day, but he'd never imagined anything like this.

"So? I'm sixteen and I'd totally do him. I'd do anything he asked. Anything."

Logan grimaced.

A different set of heels clicked sharply on the smooth concrete.

"Rogue slept with Kitty and me in my room. Every night. All night." Jubilee's voice was sharp and more than a little pissed. "She walked across the hall to wake him up from a nightmare because she's a good friend."

"Musta been some kinda nightmare." Little Miss Nasty Mouth wasn't quite done.

"It was. You think metal claws are a natural mutation? Someone did that to him against his consent, so if you want to talk about rape, you can start there." He was surprised to hear Jubilee defend him.

There was a chorus of apologies and placations.

"Shut it. Now. I don't want to hear another word. Give me the joint and don't let me catch you with one again or I'll paff all your asses and then I'll start in on your shoes."

There was another round of "Yes, Miss," from the girls and the shuffling of feet as they rounded up their stuff.

"It's one thing to be stupid enough to smoke it, but to get caught? Rookie mistake. I'll have three pages from each of you on the dangers of gateway drugs on my desk tomorrow morning at eight."

They started whining.

"And three more on the subject of the emotional trauma of rape. If I hear so much as a peep out of any of you, you can add another three pages on the subject of malicious gossip and the harm it can cause others. Do I make myself clear?"

They nodded and left quickly and quietly.

Logan slid from underneath the car and stood silently, his face an unreadable mask. If he wasn't so disturbed over what he'd just heard, he would have been amused at the idea of Jubilee handing out punishment for gossiping of all things. That was the textbook definition of irony.

"I take it you heard all that?" Jubilee walked over to him.

"Every word."

"Shit," she said, taking a deep drag off the blunt before offering it to him with a sparkle in her eye.

He took it from her outstretched fingers and drew in a few much-needed lungfuls of the calming herb before passing it back to her to finish off, watching as she took one last drag and then pinched it out between her fingers.

"Was it like that before?"

"Before?"

"All the times I left. After the Statue? After Alkali Lake? Is that the kinda nasty shit they said to her?"

"Don't delude yourself, sunshine. It's still like that now. Why do you think Rogue doesn't want to live here?"

That rocked him back. He didn't even know what to say to that revelation.

"There's no statute of limitations on the bitchiness of teenage girls, Logan. They are cruel and relentless and there's always more waiting in the wings."

"She never said." Not once.

"Why would she? The claws can't fix everything, you know." His eyes narrowed at her. "You were too busy trying to get into Jean's pants to hear it anyway."

Anger and pain followed her words. He hurt for Marie and he was furious with himself for not realizing how bad it would have been for her. He should have known she'd receive the brunt of it. He'd heard rumblings, and been on the receiving end of a few disapproving stares, but nothing like what those girls dished out tonight. Christ, they were like she-wolves with cell phones. Vicious and bloodthirsty and completely without remorse. Of course they'd go harder on her. She was the easier target by far.

A growl rose in his throat.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Save it. It's too little, too late." Jubilee walked away and then turned and tossed over her shoulder. "You had your shot and you didn't pick her. You should move on, dude. She has."

~ooOoo~

A month later he ran into Marie at a rough biker bar she had no business knowing about, let alone looking so comfortable in. He was there to fight. She was at the bar, drinking longnecks with a human man who had to be at least fifty. He had silver at his temples and more salt than pepper in the heavy stubble on his face. His hair was cut short and the way he held himself said he was ex-military or a retired merc or both. He was dressed the way pretty much all the patrons were; jeans, boots, t-shirt, leather jacket.

Marie was dressed the same, plus long brown gloves and more than a little cleavage. Nothing like the cage bunnies, but definitely enough to get his attention.

The man's hand was on her thigh and from the easy way she wore it, it wasn't the first time.

Worse still was the expression on her face when she looked into his eyes. There was real affection there. Maybe even love.

"Marie?"

She didn't even turn around but her body language said she'd heard him just fine. He stepped closer.

"Whatcha doin' here, Rogue?"

He saw her eyes widen briefly.

Did he just ask her that sounding like her father?

Her eyes slid over. "I'm on a date."

"With him?"

"Yes. With him. You know I like my men with some miles on them," she added tartly. "What are you doin' here beside being incredibly rude and interruptin' my evenin'?" Her accent was always thicker when she was pissed.

"Fightin' later."

Marie moved in closer to the man sitting next to her and put her gloved hand on his arm. "Richard, this is Logan. He was just leavin'."

"Logan." Richard held out his hand.

"Dick." Logan stared with his arms folded across his chest.

Shrugging, Richard put his hand back on Marie's thigh.

"I get it. You're a hard man, right, son?"

Son? His brow arched.

Richard caught Marie's eye. "You know this guy, honey?"

Marie nodded. "I used to. A long time ago." She finished her beer. "Excuse me, but I need the ladies'. If there's gonna be blood, clean it up before I get back." She turned to her date. "Play nice, sugar, and don't hurt him too bad or I'll never hear the end of it."

They both watched her walk away. Logan still thought she had a damn fine ass. Apparently he wasn't the only one.

Richard eyed him up and took a long pull off his beer. "You got something to say, then either say it or take a swing, boy." Well, hell. That surly, cocksure bastard had some balls. He reminded Logan a bit of himself. Or what he might have been fifteen years on if he was the kind of person who could grow old with her.

"I won't lie. Both crossed my mind, old man."

"We both know you could probably put me down pretty hard, but it wouldn't be anything close to what she'd do to you after."

Logan took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "That's the fuckin' truth." That one simple statement also told him more about the intimate nature of their relationship than he ever wanted to know. There was only one way a man knew that much about a woman's skin.

"You got that look on ya."

"What look is that, bub?"

"She the one who got away?"

"No."

She was the one he threw away.

"You don't sound too sure."

"I've known her since she was just a kid. Just never thought I'd find her in a place like this."

The tension left Richard's body at that. That was altogether different and he could empathize. He'd been there before.

"So it's like that, huh?"

"Hmph."

"That's a long damn time to carry a torch, son. You best let her go before it burns you up."

"Tried that. Didn't work."

"Well, I don't feel too sorry for you. You can't be the sharpest tool in the shed if you threw away a good woman like that. I know I won't get to have her for long, but I aim to savor it while I do. Now fuck off already. She don't needta see you cryin' into your beer."

He melted away into the shadows.

The fights were long and bloody and she was gone before they started. He won, but he let them beat the shit out of him first and none of it hurt as bad as watching her walk out of there with her arm around that dick and his hand at the small of her back.

Up next: The Firecracker. Jubes has a few things to say. (It's a good thing Logan heals - just sayin'!) Marie and Logan play phone tag. Logan finally convinces her to have another drink with him...