(disclaimer in first part)
~~~~~~~~
Rogue woke to the feeling of someone's skin touch her own. She started and jerked her hands away.
Logan awoke as well. He'd fallen asleep in the chair, slumped over with his head on her pillow.
"It's all right," he said softly, stroking her cheek with one finger. "It's safe."
Big eyes blinked up at him. "How?"
"Damned if I know. How are you feeling?"
She smiled and clasped his hand. "Like roses." Logan grinned. That smile was contagious, far more so than any disease.
But she wasn't feeling any better -- he felt her hand tighten on his as she bent her head to the side and coughed. God, it sounded like she was bringing up a lung; didn't they have anything to help with that?
The coughs subsided and she saw his look. "Nothing helps," she explained with another smile, sad this time.
Feeling as though his heart had been run through with his own claws, he bent to kiss her lightly. Rogue raised a hand to his head, holding him down and responding hungrily. She hadn't been kissed since David, and Logan was much better -- tasted better, moved his mouth better, felt better. Felt *right*.
He pulled away from her, out of breath and embarrassed that he could be so strongly attracted to her when she was this sick. Of course, he'd never been able to touch her before.
Rogue pouted, her fingers clutching his again.
Logan shook his head. "Look at you," he murmured, brushing a hand against the flush in her cheeks. It was far better than the deathly white she'd been a moment ago.
"Look at *you*," she retorted.
The door opened and Scott, Ororo, and Jean walked in. Rogue's face lit up. "Hey!" she croaked. Logan growled softly at the intrusion, but grudgingly moved aside to let them greet her.
"Logan," Scott acknowledged with a nod. Ororo gave him a quick hug and bent over the sick bed.
Rogue closed her eyes and inhaled their separate scents. Scott smelled clean, with a hint of a musky cologne; undeniably male. Ororo was purely feminine, with something like the wind before a rainstorm. Rogue still missed the enhanced senses from her days absorbing Logan, so she always took special notice of things like scent. These were familiar, and she'd missed them dearly.
"Everyone keeps asking about you," Ororo said, giving her hand a squeeze and trying not to flinch at the heat of her skin.
"Yeah? Jubes and Kitty and the rest left already, right? I hope they did; I didn't want 'em to stay behind for my sake."
Scott nodded. "I drove them to the airport a few hours ago. Jubilee promised to take a ton of pictures and Kitty said she'd write on the plane."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "I'll probably get a letter every two hours."
Jean returned from where she'd been fiddling with equipment. "Happy to be out of quarantine?"
"*Christ*, yes," Rogue replied. "But how come I'm safe all of a sudden?" Certainly she knew she wasn't getting any better.
"We ran some more tests, and decided that the virus isn't contagious," the doctor replied, a bright tone in her voice. Too bright. Scott narrowed his eyes at her, and she shook her head and glanced at Rogue meaningfully. Whatever it was, she didn't want to discuss it in here.
Rogue either didn't notice or chose to ignore the silent exchange. "That's a relief," she said. "I didn't want to get anybody sick."
Observing her with a practiced eye, Jean noted that the little visit had tired her patient, and that was something they could do without.
"All right," she said, shooing the others, "everybody out so Rogue can rest."
"We'll be back tonight," Scott assured her before exiting. Ororo followed him, but Logan sprawled back in his chair and dared Jean to say anything.
She sighed. "I ought to throw you out too."
He snorted at the idea that she was capable of doing such a thing, much less the idea that she would.
Rogue opened her eyes from a thirty-second doze and cried out, "Logan?"
In an instant he was by her side, smoothing her hair back and kissing her face gently. "I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. Back to sleep."
She looked up at him fearfully. "Promise you'll stay?" The pleading in her voice brought tears to Jean's eyes, as did the tenderness and utter sincerity in Logan's.
"I promise, Marie. I'm never going to leave you again, okay?" Appeased, she closed her eyes again, clutching his arm against her chest as a child might clutch a beloved toy.
He waited till she was fully asleep. Without turning, he said in a low, pained voice, "Just tell me she'll be all right, Jeannie."
In a truth she was forced to confront, Jean couldn't say yes and mean it. But he didn't need her to mean it, he just needed her to say it; she understood that.
"She'll be all right," she whispered, touching his shoulder before leaving. For all she knew, she was feeding false hopes, but false hope was better than no hope at all, wasn't it?
~~~~~~~~
They were gathered in Xavier's study when Jean got there. She took a seat on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. This sort of tiredness had to be what made drivers fall asleep at the wheel: debilitating, unavoidable.
Scott handed her a cup of tea and she breathed in the warm aroma before sipping at it.
"I understand you have some news about Rogue," the professor said.
Jean glanced over at Hank, reclining in an armchair with the New York Times. "You didn't tell them yet?"
He shook his head. "It was your hunch."
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and began. "One thing that surprised me about this disease was its non-communicable tendencies. Vicious as it seems, I figured it would've affected Hank and me at some point. But we're both perfectly fine, and when I tried to infect some healthy cells with samples I took from Rogue, nothing happened. It isn't contagious."
There was a pause. She watched Xavier's face and knew he was arriving at the same conclusion she had.
Ororo said it first. "Someone is making Rogue sick."
Hank nodded. "And not through scientific means."
"So we have two questions to answer," Jean concluded. "Who's behind the illness, and how they're doing it."
Xavier nodded slowly. He never ceased to be pleased when his students followed a train of thought in unison -- they were adults now, of course, but he would always think of them as his first and best students.
Rogue was counted among them, finding a special place in his heart when he'd opened his mind to her pain and fear at her arrival. Logan was, too.
"I have news as well," he said, reluctant to ruin the excitement of even that little breakthrough. But it had to be said, and the sooner the better. "Magneto has escaped."
A gasp went through the room. "How?" Scott demanded. Always hot to act, Xavier thought, but smart enough to think at the same time. It's what makes him their leader.
He sighed deeply, feeling very tired. "I don't know. The government has decided not to trust me; they even implied that I might have something to do with it. He's been gone for three months, but I was informed only two days ago. And no, I can't find him with Cerebro."
"Damn," Jean whispered, neatly summing up all their thoughts in one short word.
"Where are the other three?" Hank asked, his newspaper put aside.
"As of Saturday, Sabretooth was in Alberta, Toad in London, and Mystique in the Catskills."
Scott frowned. "That's too close for comfort."
"She hasn't done anything in the past year," Xavier reminded him. He fell silent, but still looked unhappy about it. It made Xavier himself nervous, but as long as she wasn't causing trouble, he didn't want to start any.
"The important thing to worry about is whether or not Magneto's contacted any of his lackeys," Jean pointed out. "And the only way to find that out is to confront them."
"But suppose they aren't aware of his escape?" Hank argued. "I certainly wouldn't want to be the informant."
"Hmm. Good point." She rubbed a hand across her eyes. "Do we have to decide anything tonight?"
"No, we don't," Xavier said. "You should get a hot meal and some sleep. I take it Logan is staying with Rogue?"
She chuckled. "I can't convince him to leave. I'll know if anything happens during the night."
He nodded, and the impromptu meeting was adjourned.
~~~~~~~~
She was at a party. Somebody's basement, dark and smoky. Teenagers were gathered in pairs, making out in couches and against walls. David waved to her when he came up for breath. The girl he was with looked like Jean. She waved in response and continued wandering through the room. She supposed she was looking for Logan, but it didn't seem to matter much.
Suddenly something began to bang on the ceiling. It filled Rogue with dread, but the others seemed to take no notice. She tugged frantically on sleeves, trying to get them out through a door that had appeared in the wall. It was getting smaller and smaller, and soon no one would be able to fit through it. Eventually the other partyers got up and filed slowly through the shrinking door. The last one crawled on his hands and knees.
Glancing back over her shoulder, hearing the noise grow louder, Rogue dropped down and tried to make it to safety, but her shoulders wouldn't fit. Sobbing, she twisted and squirmed and finally managed to squeeze through. But the doorway had plans of its own; it grabbed her arms and began to shake her. Somewhere the pounding stopped and she could hear her name being called in a thousand voices. Panicked, she screamed until she realized the thousand voices had morphed into a single very dear, very worried voice.
Rogue opened her eyes. Logan was holding her by the shoulders, saying her name over and over.
"Marie!" He grabbed her in a tight hug. "Jesus, kid you sounded like someone was trying to kill you."
She snuggled close to him and said in a small voice, "I'm okay now." Then she threw up on his shirt.
Logan felt her retch and rubbed her back until she was done. No time to grab the bucket. She whimpered and tried to apologize.
"Hush," he ordered, pushing her gently back onto the bed, "nothing to worry about." He poured a glass of water and picked up the bucket, offering them both. She rinsed and spat, making a face.
When she'd finished, he took the bucket to the little bathroom and cleaned it out. She had fallen back against the pillows when he returned. He just couldn't get over how *tired* she looked. A little thing like throwing up had left her shaking.
Rogue said, "I'm sorry," pointing to his shirt. Logan looked down at the stain he hadn't noticed.
He shrugged and stripped it off. "Got plenty of shirts." He tweaked her nose. "Only got one of you."
She giggled, which had been the desired response. He settled back onto the chair, but she shook her hand and gestured.
"Lie down with me, please."
"I don't know if we'll both fit, Marie." She only gazed at him with that implacable Marie-look until he sighed and gingerly picked her up. He could feel the weight she'd already lost, and didn't like it. Settling them both down on the bed was a hard task; she ended up stretched across him.
"You sure this is comfortable?" he asked anxiously. Rogue nodded, running a hand over his bare chest. Skin. His skin was warm. She pressed her cheek to his heart, listening to the rhythmic beat and feeling rather content. Her head still ached, but her fever wasn't too high and the coughing had left her for the time being. She was in better condition than she'd been in for two days.
*Did Logan do that?* she wondered silently. *Does this bond between us have that much power?*
Logan, meanwhile, was trying to ignore his body's responses to her closeness. She was an invalid, dammit, and he'd never take advantage of her.
Rogue had other ideas, apparently. When her roving hand moved lower down to caress his stomach, he grabbed it. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded. Fuck it all if he didn't smell a thread of arousal underneath the sickness.
He could feel her sigh. "It's not like we'll ever have this opportunity again, with my powers all broken." She raised up a little and slipped one leg over his, straddling him. "Don't you want me?" she breathed against his neck.
"I want you *healthy*," he replied. "I'd probably hurt you when you're sick like this, and it might make you worse."
Wiggling a little, she tried to entice him, but the effort set her coughing again.
"See what I mean?" he scolded gently, pulling her back down into a comfortable position.
"Yeah, I guess," she grumbled. "I just -- I figured you're actually able to touch me, why not take advantage of the situation?"
He'd been having the same thought, but she wasn't ever going to know that, and he certainly wasn't going to act on it. "I'll touch you when you're better, baby, I promise."
"With *clothes* on."
"Hey, I'm pretty damned creative here. And at least it won't kill you -- make you unable to walk, maybe," he whispered huskily into her ear, drawing a chuckle.
They were silent for a long time, and he thought she'd fallen asleep. But she spoke again.
"Do you think I'm gonna die, Logan?"
"Of course not!" His arms tightened around her. "You think I'd let that happen? Especially with two good doctors around. *Die*." He snorted sardonically, kissing the top of her head. "You've gotta be shitting me, kid."
He could still feel a tenseness in her limbs. "But they don't know what's wrong with me."
"Jeannie and Hank'll figure it out," he assured her . . . and himself.
"You think so?"
"I *know* so."
Another pause before she picked up again.
"Hey Logan."
"Hey Marie."
"I love you."
"I know that. And you know I love you, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
"Good. Then go to sleep."
Satisfied for now, she let out a deep breath and drifted off. As he listened to her slightly irregular breathing, Logan sent out a prayer for the first time he could remember, and granted, that wasn't too long. He doubted anybody was listening, but it couldn't hurt.
*Please don't make a liar outta me now.*
~~~~~~~~
In the days that followed, he left her side only rarely. When he slept, it was hunched over in the chair, though Jean tried to persuade him to go upstairs to a real bed. She brought him meals. He took a shower when she teased him about the flies circling around, and that was the extent of his time away from Rogue.
At first they watched as Logan's presence seemed to make her brighter, more alert. She was even able to keep food down: simple broth and a few crackers, but it was progress and it improved the mood of the whole mansion.
She got better, and then she got worse. Her fevers shot higher and took longer to come down. The coughing left her unable to talk because of the pain in her throat. Her hair started to fall out -- not in big chunks, but enough that it disturbed Jean greatly. Hallucinations began to threaten when she was awake, and sleep was not peaceful even when she could surrender to it. Once she didn't recognize Logan for a full hour, screaming at him in terror until Jean quietly told him it was best to leave the room. There was a little redecorating in the mansion that day. Xavier had the damage repaired or replaced without mentioning it.
Finally she slipped into a coma. IV tubes were hooked up to her as they couldn't be when she was awake, since she would have gone into a rage and torn them out. The two doctors collected material on comatose patients and tried every stimulation exercise from every respected or crack program they could find. Bright lights shone on her eyelids, loud clapping next to her ears, ammonia and vinegar wafted under her nose, Tabasco sauce on her tongue, feathers brushed along her skin, Swedish massage for her muscles. When none of it did any good, they began to invent methods. Ororo brought roses from her treasured garden to see if they might have a smelling-salt reaction. Scott brought down her entire CD collection and half of his own (he concentrated especially on Tom Petty, because he'd heard that "Free Fallin'" had brought several people out of comas). Kurt wandered shyly down and sang her a German lullaby, earning Logan's eternal respect, even if he did bring unpleasant memories to life.
Nothing worked. The noise that had occupied the med bay turned into a deadly quiet. Logan sat by her bed day and night, holding her hand and trying to talk her back to consciousness. Jean figured that of them all, she'd most likely listen to him. When someone visited, he fell silent and pretended they didn't exist. Unnerving as this was, eventually they got used to it and would say whatever they came to say, forgetting his presence entirely.
Jean didn't like his appearance. He ate now only if she sat down and glared at him until he picked up a fork. He slept when she begged him to, but only for a few hours. In short, Hank had one patient and Jean had two.
The two men didn't come into contact much. Logan spoke very rarely to Jean, once or twice to Ororo, and never to Hank or Scott. He'd pointedly ignored the professor, whether the talk was oral or directed into his mind.
So Hank was surprised one day when he was cleaning up and Logan spoke to him.
"She's not going to die."
Hank looked over. The other man was staring at him, face blank. He didn't have anything to say in return.
"She's not going to die," Logan repeated, slowly, as if speaking to a young and stupid child.
"No, of course not," Hank said.
Logan nodded, as if something had been settled, and went back to his silent vigil. Hank stood and regarded him for a moment, thinking. Other doctors had come and gone with no prognosis. They still had not located Magneto, so they had no way of knowing if he was behind this. His three associates had all moved at different times.
Hank wouldn't tell the man who loved Rogue so much the truth, though perhaps he wouldn't believe it anyway. If they didn't find something out, and soon, she would indeed die.
~~~~~~~~
Logan didn't know what time of day it was. He didn't even know what day of the week it should be. He'd lost track of all that very quickly, in an underground chamber without windows, without a clock. Maybe time was standing still; how could he be sure?
The only thing he knew was the rise and fall of Rogue's chest as she slept. Slept so deeply that nothing could wake her. Slept so deeply that he couldn't take his eyes off her, for fear that her sleep would turn into one from which she was incapable of waking.
Ororo came down to visit and he asked her what day it was.
"Thursday," she replied. "The twelfth of July."
A month. It had been nearly a month.
The thought occurred to her at the same time. "Logan," she asked in her quiet way, "you haven't been outside once since you got here?" He shook his head, and she was astounded. How could he live without seeing the sun? Without feeling the breeze on his face, without walking on something besides smooth tile? She could never live so long without the outdoors.
Tentatively she put her hand on his shoulder. "Come on. You really need to get out."
"No," he replied hollowly. "I have to be here when she wakes up."
When. When. When. Ororo repeated that word silently for a moment. Sometimes she had trouble turning it away from 'if'.
She tugged on his sleeve. "Walk around the grounds with me, Logan. Only for a few moments. Jean is on her way down, she will stay with Rogue."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "I can't." But it was a weak protest, and after a bit more prodding he followed her out the door, glancing back anxiously at Rogue and Jean. The doctor had promise she would inform him telepathically if there was any change.
When they stepped through the doors into the courtyard, he had to shield his eyes. The sun was bright, so much more pervasive than fluorescent lighting that it permeated his eyelids even when they were shut tight.
Gradually his eyesight adjusted, and he saw Ororo staring at him with just the hint of a smile on her face. She began to walk along the stone pathway and he followed, gazing around at the perfectly manicured lawns as if seeing them for the first time. Marie would like the heat of the day because it would remind her of home. Maybe he should bring her out here?
They meandered along to the lake, where she dropped down to the grass. It was late afternoon, when the sun begins to take on a reddish color in preparation for setting.
Then the weather witch and the Wolverine stared out at the water. They said nothing. They didn't have to.
It was a mere ten minutes, but when he returned to Rogue's side, Logan felt cleansed and understood and reassured.
He took her still hand. "Hey, baby," he said softly. "I thought about you today."
Author's Note: I'm giving fair warning, the next part may be awhile in coming up. I'm having some trouble on a minor plot point. But it DOES have an ending! You're promised an ending no matter what!
~~~~~~~~
Rogue woke to the feeling of someone's skin touch her own. She started and jerked her hands away.
Logan awoke as well. He'd fallen asleep in the chair, slumped over with his head on her pillow.
"It's all right," he said softly, stroking her cheek with one finger. "It's safe."
Big eyes blinked up at him. "How?"
"Damned if I know. How are you feeling?"
She smiled and clasped his hand. "Like roses." Logan grinned. That smile was contagious, far more so than any disease.
But she wasn't feeling any better -- he felt her hand tighten on his as she bent her head to the side and coughed. God, it sounded like she was bringing up a lung; didn't they have anything to help with that?
The coughs subsided and she saw his look. "Nothing helps," she explained with another smile, sad this time.
Feeling as though his heart had been run through with his own claws, he bent to kiss her lightly. Rogue raised a hand to his head, holding him down and responding hungrily. She hadn't been kissed since David, and Logan was much better -- tasted better, moved his mouth better, felt better. Felt *right*.
He pulled away from her, out of breath and embarrassed that he could be so strongly attracted to her when she was this sick. Of course, he'd never been able to touch her before.
Rogue pouted, her fingers clutching his again.
Logan shook his head. "Look at you," he murmured, brushing a hand against the flush in her cheeks. It was far better than the deathly white she'd been a moment ago.
"Look at *you*," she retorted.
The door opened and Scott, Ororo, and Jean walked in. Rogue's face lit up. "Hey!" she croaked. Logan growled softly at the intrusion, but grudgingly moved aside to let them greet her.
"Logan," Scott acknowledged with a nod. Ororo gave him a quick hug and bent over the sick bed.
Rogue closed her eyes and inhaled their separate scents. Scott smelled clean, with a hint of a musky cologne; undeniably male. Ororo was purely feminine, with something like the wind before a rainstorm. Rogue still missed the enhanced senses from her days absorbing Logan, so she always took special notice of things like scent. These were familiar, and she'd missed them dearly.
"Everyone keeps asking about you," Ororo said, giving her hand a squeeze and trying not to flinch at the heat of her skin.
"Yeah? Jubes and Kitty and the rest left already, right? I hope they did; I didn't want 'em to stay behind for my sake."
Scott nodded. "I drove them to the airport a few hours ago. Jubilee promised to take a ton of pictures and Kitty said she'd write on the plane."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "I'll probably get a letter every two hours."
Jean returned from where she'd been fiddling with equipment. "Happy to be out of quarantine?"
"*Christ*, yes," Rogue replied. "But how come I'm safe all of a sudden?" Certainly she knew she wasn't getting any better.
"We ran some more tests, and decided that the virus isn't contagious," the doctor replied, a bright tone in her voice. Too bright. Scott narrowed his eyes at her, and she shook her head and glanced at Rogue meaningfully. Whatever it was, she didn't want to discuss it in here.
Rogue either didn't notice or chose to ignore the silent exchange. "That's a relief," she said. "I didn't want to get anybody sick."
Observing her with a practiced eye, Jean noted that the little visit had tired her patient, and that was something they could do without.
"All right," she said, shooing the others, "everybody out so Rogue can rest."
"We'll be back tonight," Scott assured her before exiting. Ororo followed him, but Logan sprawled back in his chair and dared Jean to say anything.
She sighed. "I ought to throw you out too."
He snorted at the idea that she was capable of doing such a thing, much less the idea that she would.
Rogue opened her eyes from a thirty-second doze and cried out, "Logan?"
In an instant he was by her side, smoothing her hair back and kissing her face gently. "I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. Back to sleep."
She looked up at him fearfully. "Promise you'll stay?" The pleading in her voice brought tears to Jean's eyes, as did the tenderness and utter sincerity in Logan's.
"I promise, Marie. I'm never going to leave you again, okay?" Appeased, she closed her eyes again, clutching his arm against her chest as a child might clutch a beloved toy.
He waited till she was fully asleep. Without turning, he said in a low, pained voice, "Just tell me she'll be all right, Jeannie."
In a truth she was forced to confront, Jean couldn't say yes and mean it. But he didn't need her to mean it, he just needed her to say it; she understood that.
"She'll be all right," she whispered, touching his shoulder before leaving. For all she knew, she was feeding false hopes, but false hope was better than no hope at all, wasn't it?
~~~~~~~~
They were gathered in Xavier's study when Jean got there. She took a seat on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. This sort of tiredness had to be what made drivers fall asleep at the wheel: debilitating, unavoidable.
Scott handed her a cup of tea and she breathed in the warm aroma before sipping at it.
"I understand you have some news about Rogue," the professor said.
Jean glanced over at Hank, reclining in an armchair with the New York Times. "You didn't tell them yet?"
He shook his head. "It was your hunch."
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and began. "One thing that surprised me about this disease was its non-communicable tendencies. Vicious as it seems, I figured it would've affected Hank and me at some point. But we're both perfectly fine, and when I tried to infect some healthy cells with samples I took from Rogue, nothing happened. It isn't contagious."
There was a pause. She watched Xavier's face and knew he was arriving at the same conclusion she had.
Ororo said it first. "Someone is making Rogue sick."
Hank nodded. "And not through scientific means."
"So we have two questions to answer," Jean concluded. "Who's behind the illness, and how they're doing it."
Xavier nodded slowly. He never ceased to be pleased when his students followed a train of thought in unison -- they were adults now, of course, but he would always think of them as his first and best students.
Rogue was counted among them, finding a special place in his heart when he'd opened his mind to her pain and fear at her arrival. Logan was, too.
"I have news as well," he said, reluctant to ruin the excitement of even that little breakthrough. But it had to be said, and the sooner the better. "Magneto has escaped."
A gasp went through the room. "How?" Scott demanded. Always hot to act, Xavier thought, but smart enough to think at the same time. It's what makes him their leader.
He sighed deeply, feeling very tired. "I don't know. The government has decided not to trust me; they even implied that I might have something to do with it. He's been gone for three months, but I was informed only two days ago. And no, I can't find him with Cerebro."
"Damn," Jean whispered, neatly summing up all their thoughts in one short word.
"Where are the other three?" Hank asked, his newspaper put aside.
"As of Saturday, Sabretooth was in Alberta, Toad in London, and Mystique in the Catskills."
Scott frowned. "That's too close for comfort."
"She hasn't done anything in the past year," Xavier reminded him. He fell silent, but still looked unhappy about it. It made Xavier himself nervous, but as long as she wasn't causing trouble, he didn't want to start any.
"The important thing to worry about is whether or not Magneto's contacted any of his lackeys," Jean pointed out. "And the only way to find that out is to confront them."
"But suppose they aren't aware of his escape?" Hank argued. "I certainly wouldn't want to be the informant."
"Hmm. Good point." She rubbed a hand across her eyes. "Do we have to decide anything tonight?"
"No, we don't," Xavier said. "You should get a hot meal and some sleep. I take it Logan is staying with Rogue?"
She chuckled. "I can't convince him to leave. I'll know if anything happens during the night."
He nodded, and the impromptu meeting was adjourned.
~~~~~~~~
She was at a party. Somebody's basement, dark and smoky. Teenagers were gathered in pairs, making out in couches and against walls. David waved to her when he came up for breath. The girl he was with looked like Jean. She waved in response and continued wandering through the room. She supposed she was looking for Logan, but it didn't seem to matter much.
Suddenly something began to bang on the ceiling. It filled Rogue with dread, but the others seemed to take no notice. She tugged frantically on sleeves, trying to get them out through a door that had appeared in the wall. It was getting smaller and smaller, and soon no one would be able to fit through it. Eventually the other partyers got up and filed slowly through the shrinking door. The last one crawled on his hands and knees.
Glancing back over her shoulder, hearing the noise grow louder, Rogue dropped down and tried to make it to safety, but her shoulders wouldn't fit. Sobbing, she twisted and squirmed and finally managed to squeeze through. But the doorway had plans of its own; it grabbed her arms and began to shake her. Somewhere the pounding stopped and she could hear her name being called in a thousand voices. Panicked, she screamed until she realized the thousand voices had morphed into a single very dear, very worried voice.
Rogue opened her eyes. Logan was holding her by the shoulders, saying her name over and over.
"Marie!" He grabbed her in a tight hug. "Jesus, kid you sounded like someone was trying to kill you."
She snuggled close to him and said in a small voice, "I'm okay now." Then she threw up on his shirt.
Logan felt her retch and rubbed her back until she was done. No time to grab the bucket. She whimpered and tried to apologize.
"Hush," he ordered, pushing her gently back onto the bed, "nothing to worry about." He poured a glass of water and picked up the bucket, offering them both. She rinsed and spat, making a face.
When she'd finished, he took the bucket to the little bathroom and cleaned it out. She had fallen back against the pillows when he returned. He just couldn't get over how *tired* she looked. A little thing like throwing up had left her shaking.
Rogue said, "I'm sorry," pointing to his shirt. Logan looked down at the stain he hadn't noticed.
He shrugged and stripped it off. "Got plenty of shirts." He tweaked her nose. "Only got one of you."
She giggled, which had been the desired response. He settled back onto the chair, but she shook her hand and gestured.
"Lie down with me, please."
"I don't know if we'll both fit, Marie." She only gazed at him with that implacable Marie-look until he sighed and gingerly picked her up. He could feel the weight she'd already lost, and didn't like it. Settling them both down on the bed was a hard task; she ended up stretched across him.
"You sure this is comfortable?" he asked anxiously. Rogue nodded, running a hand over his bare chest. Skin. His skin was warm. She pressed her cheek to his heart, listening to the rhythmic beat and feeling rather content. Her head still ached, but her fever wasn't too high and the coughing had left her for the time being. She was in better condition than she'd been in for two days.
*Did Logan do that?* she wondered silently. *Does this bond between us have that much power?*
Logan, meanwhile, was trying to ignore his body's responses to her closeness. She was an invalid, dammit, and he'd never take advantage of her.
Rogue had other ideas, apparently. When her roving hand moved lower down to caress his stomach, he grabbed it. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded. Fuck it all if he didn't smell a thread of arousal underneath the sickness.
He could feel her sigh. "It's not like we'll ever have this opportunity again, with my powers all broken." She raised up a little and slipped one leg over his, straddling him. "Don't you want me?" she breathed against his neck.
"I want you *healthy*," he replied. "I'd probably hurt you when you're sick like this, and it might make you worse."
Wiggling a little, she tried to entice him, but the effort set her coughing again.
"See what I mean?" he scolded gently, pulling her back down into a comfortable position.
"Yeah, I guess," she grumbled. "I just -- I figured you're actually able to touch me, why not take advantage of the situation?"
He'd been having the same thought, but she wasn't ever going to know that, and he certainly wasn't going to act on it. "I'll touch you when you're better, baby, I promise."
"With *clothes* on."
"Hey, I'm pretty damned creative here. And at least it won't kill you -- make you unable to walk, maybe," he whispered huskily into her ear, drawing a chuckle.
They were silent for a long time, and he thought she'd fallen asleep. But she spoke again.
"Do you think I'm gonna die, Logan?"
"Of course not!" His arms tightened around her. "You think I'd let that happen? Especially with two good doctors around. *Die*." He snorted sardonically, kissing the top of her head. "You've gotta be shitting me, kid."
He could still feel a tenseness in her limbs. "But they don't know what's wrong with me."
"Jeannie and Hank'll figure it out," he assured her . . . and himself.
"You think so?"
"I *know* so."
Another pause before she picked up again.
"Hey Logan."
"Hey Marie."
"I love you."
"I know that. And you know I love you, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
"Good. Then go to sleep."
Satisfied for now, she let out a deep breath and drifted off. As he listened to her slightly irregular breathing, Logan sent out a prayer for the first time he could remember, and granted, that wasn't too long. He doubted anybody was listening, but it couldn't hurt.
*Please don't make a liar outta me now.*
~~~~~~~~
In the days that followed, he left her side only rarely. When he slept, it was hunched over in the chair, though Jean tried to persuade him to go upstairs to a real bed. She brought him meals. He took a shower when she teased him about the flies circling around, and that was the extent of his time away from Rogue.
At first they watched as Logan's presence seemed to make her brighter, more alert. She was even able to keep food down: simple broth and a few crackers, but it was progress and it improved the mood of the whole mansion.
She got better, and then she got worse. Her fevers shot higher and took longer to come down. The coughing left her unable to talk because of the pain in her throat. Her hair started to fall out -- not in big chunks, but enough that it disturbed Jean greatly. Hallucinations began to threaten when she was awake, and sleep was not peaceful even when she could surrender to it. Once she didn't recognize Logan for a full hour, screaming at him in terror until Jean quietly told him it was best to leave the room. There was a little redecorating in the mansion that day. Xavier had the damage repaired or replaced without mentioning it.
Finally she slipped into a coma. IV tubes were hooked up to her as they couldn't be when she was awake, since she would have gone into a rage and torn them out. The two doctors collected material on comatose patients and tried every stimulation exercise from every respected or crack program they could find. Bright lights shone on her eyelids, loud clapping next to her ears, ammonia and vinegar wafted under her nose, Tabasco sauce on her tongue, feathers brushed along her skin, Swedish massage for her muscles. When none of it did any good, they began to invent methods. Ororo brought roses from her treasured garden to see if they might have a smelling-salt reaction. Scott brought down her entire CD collection and half of his own (he concentrated especially on Tom Petty, because he'd heard that "Free Fallin'" had brought several people out of comas). Kurt wandered shyly down and sang her a German lullaby, earning Logan's eternal respect, even if he did bring unpleasant memories to life.
Nothing worked. The noise that had occupied the med bay turned into a deadly quiet. Logan sat by her bed day and night, holding her hand and trying to talk her back to consciousness. Jean figured that of them all, she'd most likely listen to him. When someone visited, he fell silent and pretended they didn't exist. Unnerving as this was, eventually they got used to it and would say whatever they came to say, forgetting his presence entirely.
Jean didn't like his appearance. He ate now only if she sat down and glared at him until he picked up a fork. He slept when she begged him to, but only for a few hours. In short, Hank had one patient and Jean had two.
The two men didn't come into contact much. Logan spoke very rarely to Jean, once or twice to Ororo, and never to Hank or Scott. He'd pointedly ignored the professor, whether the talk was oral or directed into his mind.
So Hank was surprised one day when he was cleaning up and Logan spoke to him.
"She's not going to die."
Hank looked over. The other man was staring at him, face blank. He didn't have anything to say in return.
"She's not going to die," Logan repeated, slowly, as if speaking to a young and stupid child.
"No, of course not," Hank said.
Logan nodded, as if something had been settled, and went back to his silent vigil. Hank stood and regarded him for a moment, thinking. Other doctors had come and gone with no prognosis. They still had not located Magneto, so they had no way of knowing if he was behind this. His three associates had all moved at different times.
Hank wouldn't tell the man who loved Rogue so much the truth, though perhaps he wouldn't believe it anyway. If they didn't find something out, and soon, she would indeed die.
~~~~~~~~
Logan didn't know what time of day it was. He didn't even know what day of the week it should be. He'd lost track of all that very quickly, in an underground chamber without windows, without a clock. Maybe time was standing still; how could he be sure?
The only thing he knew was the rise and fall of Rogue's chest as she slept. Slept so deeply that nothing could wake her. Slept so deeply that he couldn't take his eyes off her, for fear that her sleep would turn into one from which she was incapable of waking.
Ororo came down to visit and he asked her what day it was.
"Thursday," she replied. "The twelfth of July."
A month. It had been nearly a month.
The thought occurred to her at the same time. "Logan," she asked in her quiet way, "you haven't been outside once since you got here?" He shook his head, and she was astounded. How could he live without seeing the sun? Without feeling the breeze on his face, without walking on something besides smooth tile? She could never live so long without the outdoors.
Tentatively she put her hand on his shoulder. "Come on. You really need to get out."
"No," he replied hollowly. "I have to be here when she wakes up."
When. When. When. Ororo repeated that word silently for a moment. Sometimes she had trouble turning it away from 'if'.
She tugged on his sleeve. "Walk around the grounds with me, Logan. Only for a few moments. Jean is on her way down, she will stay with Rogue."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "I can't." But it was a weak protest, and after a bit more prodding he followed her out the door, glancing back anxiously at Rogue and Jean. The doctor had promise she would inform him telepathically if there was any change.
When they stepped through the doors into the courtyard, he had to shield his eyes. The sun was bright, so much more pervasive than fluorescent lighting that it permeated his eyelids even when they were shut tight.
Gradually his eyesight adjusted, and he saw Ororo staring at him with just the hint of a smile on her face. She began to walk along the stone pathway and he followed, gazing around at the perfectly manicured lawns as if seeing them for the first time. Marie would like the heat of the day because it would remind her of home. Maybe he should bring her out here?
They meandered along to the lake, where she dropped down to the grass. It was late afternoon, when the sun begins to take on a reddish color in preparation for setting.
Then the weather witch and the Wolverine stared out at the water. They said nothing. They didn't have to.
It was a mere ten minutes, but when he returned to Rogue's side, Logan felt cleansed and understood and reassured.
He took her still hand. "Hey, baby," he said softly. "I thought about you today."
Author's Note: I'm giving fair warning, the next part may be awhile in coming up. I'm having some trouble on a minor plot point. But it DOES have an ending! You're promised an ending no matter what!
