Chapter 8

"That will be absolutely all for today," Hank said firmly as Sara lowered herself back into the wheelchair, gasping. "If you push yourself too hard you just might end up damaging something else. Your power does have limits, Sara."

Sara sat in the chair, her weakened leg muscles aching. She was whole, physically healed, but three months of not being able to use her legs had left the muscles weak and useless. Hank was using the physical therapy to redevelop the strength, but it was slow going, and there were times when she just wanted to give up, to stop, and just stay in her wheelchair because it hurt too damn much.

But Logan wouldn't let her. He was there, constantly encouraging her, helping her, holding her when she cried, goading her when she wanted to give up, and just his presence helped her on the long winter days when she felt depressed. She was ashamed of what she'd done, now, and Logan had lectured her on that point, quietly but thoroughly.

"How could ya even think I'd stop lovin' ya?" he whispered quietly into her hair as they sat in her bedroom one night, watching TV and just talking. He stroked the long, soft dark hair, hugged the woman he'd missed so much. "I wanted ya so much, Sare, I missed ya so much. I thought it was my fault ya crashed, and ya'd blame me. Everyone else did." He swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. "Jean tol' me ta go ta hell," he said. "That night, when I woke up knowin' you was dyin', I realized what hell was. It was not bein' wit' ya." He hugged her tight. "Sare, please don't do that again. Ya scairt the hell outta me!"

She hugged him back, her heart full of feelings she couldn't express but that she knew he knew, and mumbled into his chest, "I promise."

Jean had apologized to him after he'd come back. "God, Logan, I'm so sorry," she had murmured brokenly as she hugged him to welcome him back. "I was tired, and not really thinking straight, and I said some really terrible things. Thank God you came back." He hugged her back.

He was with her all the time now, and they had all agreed it would be best for her to move back in with him. The problem was where? Her room was at the other end of the hall from his, and they really wanted him to be close to her in case she tried to kill herself again. Xavier finally remembered that the previous owner had outfitted a couple of rooms at the back of the house for servants, with a separate bathroom and outer entrance. With very little refurbishing, it would serve the purpose.

And so it proved. Sara was on the first floor now, with access to everything, and Logan was with her, which was the most important thing to her. The room was bigger than her old one, and there was enough space for him to move his things into the room as well. There was no need for separate rooms anymore; everyone knew they were lovers, and though it caused quite a bit of a stir in the mansion, the two were blissfully unaware of it all. Sara's recovery was now rapid, and they were all thankful that Logan had come back.

All her old cheerfulness came back, unfeigned this time. Logan was becoming extra-sensitive to her moods, and so when she seemed depressed one morning, he asked her why. She gave him no answer. He found out later, when he went looking for some bit of paperwork or other that she needed for the hospital, and saw a card lying on her dresser. Curious, he opened it. It was a birthday card, from her husband. It read, "Sara: Hope you're enjoying your birthday, bitch. And remember when you get back, I'll still owe you that special present you get every year. Richard."

It was her birthday, and he hadn't known. It explained her sadness. He quickly located the paper she needed, ran out to the car, and gave it to her where she waited in Betsy and Warren's Ferrari. When they drove off, he ran back inside and found Jean. "Jean!" he called, seeing her coming out of her and Scott's bedroom. "Can I talk to ya?"

"Sure. What's up?" Jean waited for him to catch up.

"It's Sara's birthday t'day. I just foun' out." He decided not to mention how he'd found out. "An' I wanna get her somethin', but I don't know what ta get her. Has she said anythin' ta ya?"

Jean grinned. "So that's what she's been all quiet about today. I wonder why she didn't tell us."

"Jean. Ya know how she is. She doesn't like a big ol' fuss made o' her ' bout anythin'. But I figure she feels a little blue, an' needs cheerin' up."

Jean thought. "There was something," she said slowly. "The last time we were at the mall, she was looking at a lovely gold pendant she really liked. I told her to get it, but she decided not to. It would surprise her if you got it for her, but she'd like it." She grinned wider, suddenly. "And while we're at it, maybe we'll have a party for her too. Do you know how old she is?"

Logan thought back to that horrible birthday card. "Twenty- seven," he said.

"Scott!" her husband came out of their room. "Logan found out its Sara's birthday today. Do you think we could run down to the mall for some gifts while you get something organized for her here? I just 'pathed Betsy not to bring her back for a couple hours. Will that be enough time?"

Scott smiled broadly, and he gave Jean a kiss. "See you later, darling. Yeah, I think we could get something together for her in a couple hours."

Jean grabbed her keys. "Let's go."

Logan hadn't been shopping with a woman in quite a while; Sara wasn't much of a shopper herself. Rogue had invited herself along, and between the two of them, they found a number of things at the stores they had seen Sara admiring often enough that they were fairly certain she would like. He bought her a couple things himself, besides the jewelry Jean pointed out to him. He knew the instant he'd seen it that Sara would like it; it was a delicate four-pointed gold star with a deep purple stone in the center of it. The stone matched her eyes exactly, and the pendant was small enough to be worn comfortably every day. As they were going through a clothing store, he remembered the habit she had of raiding his closet for his sweaters and wearing them. They were oversized and comfortable, she had told him once. So he stopped and bought her a thick cotton sweater that matched the necklace he'd bought. His last stop was at a leather- goods store, where he bought her something he knew she'd wanted for a while; a leather biker jacket like his. His purchases done, he watched the two women choose things for the others to give her, and they went home.

The mansion was a bustle of activity. The dining room was festooned with a huge birthday banner he remembered from Hank's birthday a month ago, and balloons hung in little clusters around the room. Storm had driven out to the local supermarket and come back with a huge cake with Sara's name on it, and was in the process of placing candles on it. It was chocolate, of course; Sara loved chocolate. He watched the goings-on with some amusement. This oughta cheer her up a bit, he thought as he went upstairs to privately wrap her gifts himself. He wasn't really good at it, but he felt it would mean more to her to see that he'd made the effort.

She stood, startled, as Betsy shoved her into the room and everyone yelled "Happy birthday!" Her eyes took in the decorations, the cake, the pile of presents in the corner, and looked at Logan with a 'later-for-you' look that held a lot of humor in it, and threw herself into the revelry with a full heart. Logan would never forget the look she gave him when she unwrapped his gifts, nor the way she instantly put on the necklace he had gotten as if she'd never take it off.

She lay, much later, in their bed, wearing nothing but that necklace and driving him nuts when he came back in from working on his bike. "How did you know?" she asked softly, getting up and pulling him down on the bed next to her, removing his shirt as he did so. He pulled her into his arms and cuddled her for a moment, enjoying the sensuous pleasure of having her bare skin rubbing his.

"I saw the card Ryan sent ya," he said. "Sare, why didn't ya tell us?"

She tugged at his belt. "I didn't want a big fuss made about my birthday," she said. "Believe it or not, that's the first birthday card I've ever gotten from Richard. The last two years, he'd stop by the apartment and give me my present personally." The tone of voice in which she said 'present' left little doubt in his mind that the present had been pain.

"I wish you didn't have a healing factor," he said impulsively.

She stared at him, startled. "Why? I'm lucky I have it. I tell myself that every day."

"Because if you didn't have it, everyone would have seen the scars he left on your body as well as your soul, and you wouldn't have had any problems finding a lawyer," he said quietly. "And people would have believed you."

She sat back against the head of the bed, watching as he stripped off his greasy jeans and tossed them into the laundry hamper they shared. "Logan, if I didn't have my healing factor whether I had scars or not would be moot," she said, her face unreadable. "I would be dead."

Logan cursed and sat down on the bed beside her, holding her. "He hurt you that bad?" he said, his heart aching.

"Yes," she whispered.

He hugged her tightly, and she turned in his arms to face him. "I love ya," he said. "I will never hurt ya. And I will never let anyone hurt ya like that again. I'll kill anyone who tries."

"Don't kill," she said. "It will leave scars on your soul. I couldn't bear seeing that."

He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. " But you have too many already." He kissed her lips, kissed her jawline back to her neck, left a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck to the hollow of her throat, and just before he lost himself in passion, he heard her whisper, "I won't let it happen."