In which it is discovered there's more to being dead than anyone suspected, and Marie and Logan finally get some alone time. Contains mild sexual content between two consenting adults who are trying to figure out how the hell to be intimate when they can't actually touch each other.

Marie's dreams were so odd that she didn't think they were actually hers. They had to be Sharley's, because they had the clarity of memory, but they certainly weren't her memories.

She woke long before Logan, and went to grab a pen and some paper so she could write them down. She wasn't sure why she thought it was so important that she did so, but instinct drove her, and she hadn't survived this long by ignoring her instincts.

She'd been underground in the dream, though quite how she'd known that, she wasn't sure. Her surroundings had looked like an office building left vacant for a very long time: industrial-grey carpeting that was badly water-stained in places, with patches of black mold in the corners. The desks, tucked into ruinous cubicles, were covered with dust, as were the papers scattered over everything.

It wasn't just that everyone had left in a hurry – something violent had happened here. The wall to the left of her was buckled inward, and a good quarter of the ceiling tiles had fallen. A single, badly-flickering fluorescent light illuminated the room, leaving unsettling shadows dancing over everything. Despite the mold, the air was far too dry, and it had the telltale electrified-penny scent of the Other.

Spooky though the surroundings were, she wasn't afraid – but then, if this really was Sharley's memory, she wouldn't be. Sharley, whatever she was, didn't have to fear being hurt or killed by anything. She was looking for something – just what, Marie didn't know, but it was something she needed. Unfortunately, she'd woken up before she found it.

"What're you doin', darlin'?" Logan's voice was heavy and hoarse with sleep.

"Writin' down my dreams," she said, setting down her pen and turning to him. "Had some weird ones last night."

He sat up, suddenly worried. "Nightmares?"

"No, just weird. Pretty sure they're Sharley's."

"She still rattlin' around in your head?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"If she is, she's bein' quiet about it. Unlike a few other people I could name," she added, giving him a pointed look. "You're an awfully active echo, sugar. And you've been tellin' me all sorts of things you'd like to do to me. I knew you had a dirty mind, but for fuck's sake, but I'm pretty sure some of that isn't even possible."

To her surprise, Logan actually looked embarrassed. She never thought she'd see the day that happened. "About that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Marie, just how much experience have you got, with things like that?" Was it just her, or did he actually sound a little concerned?

"Not much," she admitted. "Kinda hard to, you know? Bobby and I tried some stuff, but I think I was more afraid of hurtin' him than he was, which was a pretty damn big mood-killer."

"Thought as much. Marie, before we even head out, I want you to promise me somethin', okay? If I start goin' too far, too fast, you need to tell me. I'm gonna be careful, but if I start crossin' any lines, I need to know about it. Don't go thinkin' I'll get peeved if you have to stop. We've got a lotta time – don't need to rush to the finish line first time outta the gate, if you get my meanin'. "

He sounded almost hesitant, and it was that, even more than his words, that warmed her. She trusted him completely, but since she wasn't sure what lines she might have, he sure as hell wouldn't if she didn't say so. While she didn't anticipate any difficulty, she had no way of actually knowing until they got right down to it.

"I will, sugar," she said, reaching out and resting her hand on his knee. She didn't have her gloves on, or she would have taken his hand in hers. "I know I can trust you, and I'll tell you if I've gotta take a break."

He gave her a grin. "Good. Let's get some showers and some breakfast, and see if we can sneak off before anybody else decides they want to come on our field trip."

Kitty too had risen early, and followed the scent of cinnamon rolls into the kitchen. Clarice was hard at work, and looked as disturbed as Kitty felt.

"You had weird dreams last night, didn't you?" Kitty asked, pouring herself some coffee and hopping up to sit on the counter. She immediately winced, thanks to the pain that jagged through her ribs and her back. Once she'd had a few cinnamon rolls, she was off to steal some of the industrial-strength painkillers from Hank. The slightly vacant expression on Clarice's face suggested she'd already nabbed some.

"Yeah," she said, setting down her spatula. "It had to be the Other, since the sky was all red. I was on a ship, a big one with sails and everything, but it was in the air."

Kitty couldn't say she was surprised by how similar it had been to her own dream, but it was still a little unsettling. "Same here. It wasn't scary, though, was it? Just…odd."

"What was odd?"

Both of them jumped, and Kitty sloshed coffee all over the floor. "Jesus, Erik, wear a bell. Clarice and I had the same dream last night. I think we might be remembering what happened when we were dead."

He gave her a strange look as he grabbed a mug from the cupboard. "Why would you say that? Did someone tell you so?"

"No. It's just – you know how sometimes you can dream something, and just know what's going on without anyone explaining it? It's just…dream-logic. I don't know where I was, but – and I know this sounds really stupid – I sort of felt like I was…home." It was frustrating not to be able to actually put words around it. What she'd seen, what she'd felt – it had all been so strong, so right, but there was no explaining it.

"You too, huh?" Clarice asked, pulling a cookie-sheet out of the oven. "There was just something warm about it. Like, even though it was the Other, it was a protected place. I didn't even see any other people, but I knew nothing could hurt me there."

That was it in a nutshell, but at the same time, it didn't do the feeling justice. Kitty doubted anything could, short of actual experiencing it. "Yeah," she said. "Maybe that's why we couldn't consciously remember it, when we first came back. I didn't want to leave."

Erik was across the kitchen so fast she'd swear he'd teleported. It startled her so much that she dropped her coffee cup, which shattered when it hit the tiles and sprayed hot coffee everywhere. He grabbed her shoulders, though at least he stopped short of actually shaking her.

"Don't you say that," he said. "Don't you ever say that again." He looked ready to duct-tape her to the counter, if he thought it would actually make her stay put.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Um, okay," she said, wondering just where in the hell that had come from. It took a moment for comprehension to hit her like a brick. "You were actually scared, weren't you?" she asked. "I mean, like a normal person."

He shut his eyes, and she could practically hear him counting to ten in his head. "Yes, I was scared," he said, releasing her shoulders. He sounded like he really, really grudged the admission. "You were dead, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Further understanding clicked. How many people had he lost already? And how many of them had he watched die? "Hey," she said, nudging him with one coffee-stained foot. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not going to get rid of me that easily." She looked down at the floor. "I'm also not cleaning that up."

Most of the tension left him, and he actually laughed. There wasn't a lot of humor in it, but there was a little. "Fair enough," he said. "Stay there. I don't actually know where the broom is."

"Closet in the hallway," Clarice said automatically. When he'd left, she stared at Kitty, who shrugged.

"Don't ask me," she said. "Gimme one of those cinnamon rolls, will you?"

Ororo had planned to go shopping today, and was somewhat disgruntled to find that someone had got to the car first. She didn't want to drive the bus all by herself, but she was having a difficult time talking anyone else into going with her. Most of them were simply too tired, physically and mentally.

Anathea and her crew had gone to swim in the pond, lugging some sandwiches and bottles of water with them. Alfred was once again shut in the bunker: they'd try to put his heart back eventually, but not until Kitty felt confident enough to do it. What they were to do with him then, nobody knew, but that was a problem best shelved for now. It wasn't like they didn't have time.

Both Professors had sequestered themselves, no doubt needing a while to process everything that had passed through their minds. The elder Magneto was nowhere to be found; it was possible he needed the same thing, if for different reasons. Raven was napping in a hammock beneath one huge oak tree, Clarice was concocting something frozen – and no doubt delicious – in the kitchen, with Hank, God help their digestive tracts, attempting to help. Kitty had gone to play with the kittens, which meant Erik was probably with her, considering he didn't seem to want to let her out of his sight for more than five minutes at a time. That left Ororo on her own, and surprisingly restless.

She wandered into the garage, poking around for lack of anything better to do. It was obvious that it was rarely used: almost everything was coated with dust, and several years' worth of cobwebs stretched across the ceiling. Tarps and paint cans lined one wall, along with rows upon row of tools. It was a far cry from the place as she'd known it in the future.

At the very back, there was a large lump of something beneath a blue tarp, and she pulled it aside, curious.

What she saw made her grin. It was old – it looked like it had been built in the 1950's at the very latest – but it was a motorcycle, and she intended to see if it still ran. If it did, she was headed out on a little trip. Where she was going to go, she wasn't sure, but it didn't really matter. The ride was what counted.

Logan, unsurprisingly, felt extremely out-of-place in the fabric store.

He must have looked as odd as he felt, because the dozens of little old ladies he saw all eyed him like he was the Big Bad Wolf. It was only Marie's presence that kept him from growling at them. Every time he started scowling, she elbowed him in the ribs, and gave him an arched eyebrow. It was her silent way of saying, Don't get us kicked out.

He didn't bother asking where anything was. He and Marie browsed, testing fabrics, laughing at some of the completely hideous 70's patterns (though he still maintained the 80's were the worst), until they reached the really fancy stuff.

Logan grabbed a bolt off the top shelf. It was silk, the same shade of green as the coat she'd worn when he first met her. While he hadn't started thinking about her that way for another couple years, he'd been partial to that shade ever since then. It was Marie.

Apparently she read his train of thought, because she gave him another arch of an eyebrow. "That color, huh?" she asked, running her fingers over the fabric. "Feels nice, that's for damn sure."

"Darlin', you have no idea. Let's get about eight yards of this, and maybe some black velvet."

Marie laughed. "Black velvet in that little boy's smile," she sang. "Black velvet in that slow southern style…"

He snorted. "Dunno about southern, but 'slow style' sounds about right."

She grinned at him, but he could smell the spike in her arousal. Good. Better to ease her into this, rather than thwack her upside the head with it.

They took their bolts to the cutting-counter, ignoring the employee's surprised stare. Once they'd paid and headed out the door, Marie couldn't suppress a giggle. "I think she had some guesses about what we'd be doin' with all this," she said. "I mean – oh, shit, is that Ororo?"

It was. Even at a distance, that hair was unmistakable, and Logan felt Marie duck behind him. She'd probably feel awkward, if Ororo asked any questions. Logan wouldn't, but then, it was hard for him to feel awkward over much of anything.

"She hasn't seen us," he said. "Let's go."

They hurried to the car, Marie laughing again, and were out on the road before Ororo could hope to stop them. Logan didn't mention that he was going to make damn sure nobody would be stupid enough to disturb them unless the house was burning down – Marie would be mortified if she knew, though he couldn't say he understood why. It might be a woman thing, or it might just be a Marie thing: she never had like people sticking their nose in her business. Well, unless it was him – she'd rarely kept anything from him.

He rested his free hand on her knee – it wasn't a gesture of seduction, but of comfort. She might think she was completely on board with everything, but if she had as little experience as he suspected, too much too fast might be overwhelming. Most teenagers had the advantage of necking quite a bit before getting to the main event – he was pretty sure of that, anyway. He didn't remember his own adolescence, but he did remember constantly kicking out students who'd been making out in odd places.

Marie had no such advantage – or at least, not much. It didn't sound like what she and Ice Man had done had made it very far. The last thing in the world Logan wanted to do was freak her out, and he was going to make damn sure he didn't.

Most of the herd had already moved through for breakfast, so Clarice was walking Hank through the intricacies of properly washing dishes. She couldn't believe that he, as a scientist, was so abysmal at it: surely he'd had to sterilize beakers and tools, right?

"Not really that kind of scientist," he pointed out. "And when I was at school, we had assistants for that. Plus an autoclave, to fully sterilize the equipment."

Clarice rolled her eyes. "Whatever. If you really want to learn to cook, you have to learn how to do this right. I am glad you're helping, though," she added, though that wasn't entirely truthful. She appreciated his willingness and desire to learn, but at this point, he still made more work than he accomplished. He'd get there, though.

"Where the hell are Rogue and Logan?" she asked. She would have expected Logan especially to come down and inhale half the things she'd made.

Kitty snorted. "It's our first actual day home, everybody's glad to be alive, and it's those two," she said. "You do the math."

To Clarice's amusement, Hank went absolutely scarlet. "Right," he said. "Maybe we should make sure nobody, uh, bothers them."

"Yeeeah, that's probably best for all concerned," Kitty said. "Never know what either of them might to do anyone who interrupted. Somebody would probably wind up going to the hospital."

"I'll put some plates in the fridge, just in case," Clarice said. "Then I think I might vacate the house for a bit."

"Can't blame you," Kitty agreed. "We need spare clothes. Mall ought to be far enough away."

"Are you all five years old?" Erik asked, disbelief heavy in his voice. "Last I checked, we were all adults. Chronologically, anyway," he added, giving the three of them a dubious look.

"You don't have the historical context to understand," Kitty said. "We've all been rooting for them for, I shit you not, well over a decade. That doesn't mean we actually want to…hear anything, because dude. Just no. Besides, we really do need more clothes."

He rolled his eyes. "Won't this excursion be a thing of joy. Clarice, you are not allowed anywhere near the steering wheel."

She wanted to protest, but given her driving record in 1973, she didn't have much of a leg to stand on. "What are we going to do for money?" she asked.

"Leave that to me," Erik said. Somehow, that did not fill her with confidence.

Logan and Marie's room was at the north side of the house, but even though they'd left the windows open, it was still almost too warm for comfort. Stripping off her gloves and shirt was an act of practicality, not seduction, but she really doubted Logan was going to mind not getting a straight-up strip tease. He was Logan. She doubted that sort of shit would matter much to him, anyway.

The grin he gave her was absolutely evil, and did some very strange things to her insides. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before – the heat in his eyes was far more scorching even than the July sun.

"I hope that means you like what you're seein', sugar," she said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Darlin', you have no idea," he returned. "Come on over here." He dumped the shopping-bag onto the bed, unfolding the length of silk with another downright lascivious grin.

"Only if you get rid of this," she said, crossing the floor and tugging on the hem of his shirt. "I swear, you used to run around shirtless just to get me all hot and bothered."

"You're right," he said, yanking the shirt over his head in one enviably smooth motion. "I did. Worked, too, didn't it?"

"Ass," she said, grabbing the end of the silk so she could swat him on the arm. "You know it did." Her hand paused, and then she ran it up to his shoulder, fascinated by the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers. Even with the silk, she could feel the warmth of his skin, and she was so close she could smell him – leather and spice and Logan, whose scent she could never mistake for anyone or anything else. She stood on her tiptoes so she could ghost her lips over his throat, almost but not quite touching. With Bobby, she'd been terrified of hurting him; with Logan, there was a strange thrill to it, to dancing as close to the dangerous edge of touch without jumping over it. It helped that she now had a better idea of just how long she had before her mutation actually started to pull at someone – and that Logan was far less likely to get hurt by a brief, errant touch.

She felt him shudder, and it left her with an odd, almost intoxicating sense of power. She was the one doing this to him – the one making him shiver under her light, admittedly inexperienced touch. He certainly didn't seem to care that she really had no idea what in the fuck she was actually doing. Instinct and curiosity drove her.

Marie jumped when she felt his touch against her side. His silk-covered hand traced the curve of her waist and up along her back. His fingers danced along her spine as his other hand settled just above her left hip. It made her back arch, and his throaty chuckled reverberated through her chest.

He unclasped her brat with a speed and a dexterity that sent her eyebrows up. "Good at that, aren't you, sugar?"

"Good at a lot more than that," he returned, slipping the garment down her arms. Never in her life had Marie been this exposed to anyone, and she felt suddenly shy.

"Too much?" he asked, looking down at her with serious eyes.

"No. Just…new," she assured him, with a crooked smile. "Never got this far before."

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Go on and lay down," he said. "Trust me."

She crept up onto the bed, lying back on the pillows. He didn't need to ask her to trust him – that was a given. She didn't know why she was suddenly so nervous.

He crept over her, and paused. "You need to slow down, darlin'?"

"…I think so. I mean, just for a minute." She was almost embarrassed, but Logan gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's okay," he said, running his left hand through her hair. He lay beside her, draping the end of the silk over his chest, and pulled her close. The sound of his heartbeat was reassuring, the silk deliciously soft against her cheek.

He wrapped the rest of the silk around her back, rubbing soothing circles around her shoulders. She traced his collarbone, running her hand down his chest and along his stomach. "Can I just sorta…explore?" she asked. "Dunno if I'm ready to get touched too much yet, but I've been wantin' to molest you for years now."

Logan burst out laughing. "Darlin', you do whatever you like. You just let me know if you want me to do anythin'."

She sat up again, disentangling herself from her end of the silk, and wrapped it once around her hands. With a grin, she ran both hands up his chest again, very slowly, fascinated by the way it made him arch his back. Every time she'd seen him with his shirt off, she'd wanted to do this – well, this and lick him, but that wasn't possible.

Again she traced his collarbones, out along his shoulders and down his arms. The muscles of his arms and chest fascinated her, as did the hitch in his breath when she ran her fingers over the waistband of his jeans.

Now it was her turn for an absolutely evil grin. "You keep holdin' still, sugar," she said. "I won't leave you wantin', but you've gotta be patient."

Logan groaned, and the sound shot a bolt of heat straight through her. "You tryin' to kill me, darlin?"

She laughed. "Oh, you'd known if I was doin' that. You just hang on."

Unzipping someone else's fly was surprisingly difficult. She allowed him to move enough to kick off his pants, and was somehow unsurprised to find he went commando.

Marie might be inexperienced, but she was hardly ignorant. She had, after all, lived in a school full of teenagers, who had sometimes ludicrously complex means of smuggling porn. While most of it seemed unrealistic – and, ironically, rather unsexy – it had at least been a useful anatomy lesson. She grinned to herself, silently vowing to make Logan lose his damn mind.

"You hold still, sugar," she said, trying to keep the wicked glee out of her voice and completely failing. She wrapped her silk-swathed had around him, her grin widening at his sharp, sudden intake of breath. "I said hold still," she said again, sternly, when he tried to reach for her on what she suspected was auto-pilot.

"Bossy, aren't yo -" the world trailed off in a groan as she stroked him with her fingers – inexpertly, sure, but he hardly seemed to care.

She propped herself up with her left hand, watching him avidly as she worked him over with fingers and silk. God, he was actually trembling – fighting to hold still as she unabashedly tortured him. What else could she make him do, just by touching him?

Leaning forward, she let her breath ghost over his chest, breathing him in as her fingers gave him a light squeeze. He groaned again, swallowing audibly, and she thought, fuck it. A half-second touch wouldn't hurt him, so she darted her tongue out and gave him a taste.

His entire body jerked, hands closing into fists around the blankets. God damn did she feel powerful – she'd never seen Logan helpless, willingly or unwillingly, but he'd surrendered to her now, even though it was obviously hard for him.

Heh, hard, she thought, and had to fight a giggle. She gave him another lick instead, and another, working her way up his chest.

He was actually writhing under her, his hips jerking involuntarily into her hand – when her lips finally found his, the look he gave her was downright desperate. He wanted to grab her, and she knew it – wanted to roll her under him and do all manner of dirty things to her – but he was restraining himself for her sake.

She gave him a light, butterfly-brush of a kiss. "Look at me, sugar," she said, the pace and pressure of her fingers increasing as she stroked him. She couldn't bring herself to leave him hanging, no matter how curious she was to see how he'd react if she did.

He shut his eyes a moment, and actually growled when he looked at her again. Every single muscle in his body had gone taut, no doubt with the effort of holding still. She stroked him faster, marveling at the tremors that wracked his body, strengthening and quickening until he threw back his head and let out a groan that was beyond obscene. The silk in her hand grew hot and wet, and she grinned proudly. She'd done this to him – she'd made him come so thoroughly undone, had driven him to boneless relaxation. It didn't matter that she hadn't gotten off herself, not yet: there was something to be said for giving and watching.

When he finally opened his eyes, she smirked down at him. "Was it good for you?" she asked.

Logan laughed, and she was pleased to hear it was a little shaky. "Darlin'," he said, "you have no idea. You gonna let me repay the favor?"

She gave this due consideration. "Maybe once you don't sound like you're drunk," she said. "Wanted to make you make sounds like that since I was nineteen."

"Just you wait 'til you hear the sounds I'm gonna get outta you," he growled, tossing the free end of the silk over his chest so he could pull her down only him. "You give me a chance, I'll make sure you never wanna leave this bed."

I know, I know, they have not yet actually had the sex, but there's a reason for that. As Logan realizes, Marie is at a pretty severe disadvantage in this: she's got next to no experience whatsoever. You don't take someone who's never tried to swim and chuck them into the deep end - not without letting them wade in the shallows for a bit. Don't worry, he'll return the favor, once she'd ready.