It was almost four a.m. He'd given up on pretending to sleep an hour ago, and instead stared up at the stars from the warm cocoon of his sleeping bag. It was cold outside. But it wasn't the cold or the hard ground or the wind in the trees that kept him awake. It was Marie. Every time Logan closed his eyes, he saw her smiling and beckoning and in the safe confines of his mind, he went to her.
It excited and terrified him.
He wanted to believe he could be with her. And not just in the casual sex role that most women in his life were delegated to. He could get used to rolling over in bed and finding her there. He could get used to sleeping like a normal person, without nightmares that left a scream in his throat. She did that for him.
But what did he do for her? How could he possibly do anything for her? He was a drifter, a womanizer, a shadow, an animal. She might be the best thing he could hope for but she also deserved someone better than him.
He came back to try and help a friend who was lost. It seemed like he was the one who was lost.
He couldn't think straight tonight; not with her pouting looks and smartass innuendos. Not with the Wolverine so close to the surface, and not while his balance was so precarious. He needed to strengthen his resolve. He needed to finish her training so he could leave. He needed to-
"Logan?"
Logan jerked awake. It was light out; at some point he had fallen asleep. He was wrapped in something constrictive that held down his arms and his legs. Still trapped in the boundaries of dreams, he panicked. He released his claws and sliced through the sleeping bag.
Marie was above him, but at a respectable distance. "Logan, sugar, it was just a dream, and you're okay. You're okay."
Slowly the wild look faded from his eyes and his heart rate slowed. When he realized what he'd done, he retracted his claws and slowly climbed from the ruined bag.
"Another nightmare?" she asked, sympathy in her voice.
Marie beneath him, naked and moaning. Yeah. A real nightmare. He grunted and stood slowly. He glanced at Marie; she was still keeping her distance. Good girl. Smart girl. "What time is it?" he rasped.
"Around eight. Listen, ah...I'm gonna go for a run through the woods. When I come back...yoga?"
"Sure."
"Okay."
Marie was looking at him strangely, like she was assessing him. He didn't like it, but before he could say something she took off.
Their silence had thickened into anticipatory tension, and Yoga, for once, did absolutely nothing to relax her. Hell, thanks to her hormones and the way he was treating her, which bordered on resentment, she was more wound up after Yoga than she was before it. Plus last night she had lain awake in bed until almost dawn. She was tired, she was hot, and every inch of her skin tingled with angry electricity. Marie wanted to scream.
Their sparring session was a welcome relief; the weight of the knives on her forearms spoke to her agitation until she was ready to kick his ass for putting her in such a position. He was the man, dammit. It was his job to be the dominant one. But if he wouldn't...she would. Whether she was right or wrong didn't matter; it was the principle of the thing.
She had to keep telling herself that, or else she would lose her nerve.
Logan rolled his neck, his vertebrae popping with a disconcerting sound. "You ready, kid?"
She hated the way he was grinning at her, like he wasn't afraid of her. She snarled. "Don't call me kid."
Without any warning or preamble, she attacked. Pivoting on one heel, she snapped the other foot up in a roundhouse kick. Logan was fast but he wasn't that fast; she caught the side of his jaw. As he stumbled back, she twisted into her defense pose. He whirled, his brows raised and his mouth snarling. It was her turn to grin.
Logan rubbed the side of his jaw, regarding her with a rival's eyes. "Is that how we're playing it?"
Marie smiled coldly at him. "I can take anything you give me, sugar."
There were no easy punches this time. He advanced with a volley of vicious hits that she did her best to twist away from. He looked mildly surprised at her success, but then he would be surprised. When they sparred, she'd been focusing on learning his new moves. He'd never seen her in action, as a member of the X-Men. She wasn't completely incapable. Still, he managed to get a few hits in; one to her ribcage that made her gasp and before she could block his second punch, he backhanded her across the cheek so hard that she swayed on her feet, stars dancing across her vision.
Logan eased out of his defensive stance. "You finished?"
Marie sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right-" But even as she spoke she leapt at him, catching him dead in the chest with both feet, knocking him flat on his back. The second she dropped to the ground she rolled. She arched her back, kicked her legs, and flipped into a low crouch. She watched him warily as he sat up, a cloud of dust settling around him. He looked pissed. That was good; she was too.
He pawed himself up and regarded her like a wolf measuring its prey. "You can't handle me."
"Don't tell me what I can't handle," she seethed, and came at him. The blood pounded in her ears, the thrill of the fight electrified her arms and legs as she went on the offensive. A kick to his abdomen that doubled him over, then she dropped to the ground and swept her leg across his, knocking him completely down.
He cursed. "Cut it out-"
"Stop being such a chickenshit and fight me!" she yelled at him.
He snarled and this time when he jumped up, he went on the attack. Fear punched through her at his speed and power, but Marie was ready. Every time she successfully blocked one of his moves, he only got more enraged. It made him sloppy, and she managed a few more hits.
Everything was happening so fast; they were on autopilot. He was behind her; she slipped through his arms and kicked him from beneath. Growling, he grabbed both her forearms and was twisting her down. She leaned into him and snapped her foot up from behind, years of yoga making her flexible enough to kick him over her shoulder. He went down, but not before he managed to drive his elbow into the side of their head. She fell with him. The second they hit the dirt they were up again, only this time their blades were unsheathed.
Marie, panting, clenched and unclenched the handles of her knives; the knives he had taught her how to use. Her eyes were fixated on his extended claws. He raised his hands to his eyes, almost as if he couldn't believe he had sprung them on her.
She flipped a knife in her hand, spun it around in her palm, and grinned. She was showing off.
Logan growled. "You don't want this, kid."
"You know what I want," she taunted. He snarled and she grinned; she liked to see him lose it over her. This time when they met, sparks flew.
Almost a decade of unrequited love, uncomfortable silences and sexual tension came together to fuel the rage behind their fight. Instead of words and murmurs, they hissed and grunted at each other as they swung and ducked and blocked. If they wouldn't fuck each other, fine. They'd kick the shit out of each other instead. There was no room in her mind to be afraid of his claws, no time to worry what would happen if he cut her too deep- he couldn't heal her if things got out of hand (they were way out of hand already) -there was only the scuffle of their sneakers on the packed dirt, and the occasional low grunt. He leaned back too far and lost his balance; she took advantage of it and swiped at him. A thin red line appeared across his abdomen. It disappeared just as quickly.
She hadn't fought, really fought, since she was rescued. It felt good. Really good. Now, she was fighting everyone. She was fighting Dr. Sinister, and the helplessness she felt as his victim. She was fighting the Brotherhood. She was fighting her parents who abandoned her. She was fighting Mystique. She was fighting her skin. She was fighting Logan, the man who she'd taught herself not to love, because loving him hurt too damn much.
It was too much-
Overwhelmed with rage, Marie screamed, and stabbed down with one knife. This one Logan saw coming, and knocked the blade from her grip with a merciless swipe of his arm. That was fine, she had another blade.
She may have been a seasoned member of the X-Men, but she was also human now, and fighting against someone with regenerative powers. She was winded, and it wasn't long before he grabbed her wrist and twisted.
"Drop it," he growled.
She stubbornly held onto her one remaining knife. He snarled and twisted her arm again with enough force to make her cry out and drop the knife. Her other arm was free; she brought up her elbow in a sharp blow and clipped his chin with enough force to make his head snap back. Now he was really snarling. She should be afraid of that sound, should have known to stop but she didn't care. Her arms were in his grasp but her legs were free. She tried to knee him in the balls and missed, and that was how she found herself in a bear hug, both her arms locked to her sides by his steel grip, her entire body pressed against his so hard she couldn't move. Or breathe, which is why she had to finally drop her head against his chest, close to sobbing. It wasn't fair.
"Say 'uncle'."
She shook her head, her cheek sliding across his sweaty chest. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer. "Uh-uh."
"You lost," he rasped in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "There's nothing left." She felt his arms flex around her; a cage of muscles and adamantium.
He was too arrogant There was one part of her body she could still move, one more card she could play. Her heart sped up until she was in hyper drive.
"You're wrong," she whispered. She raised her head, pinning him with her determination. "There's this."
She tilted her face up to his and kissed him.
Marie didn't have much experience when it came to kissing, but she poured her entire being into this one. She wanted this. She'd wanted this for too long to be shy. He froze; she could feel his entire body go rigid as she opened her mouth against his. She tasted the salt on his skin, and was glad that he was holding her up because she wasn't sure her legs would hold her anymore. Her tongue slid against his lower lip and then against his tongue and it was so sweet and so perfect that she couldn't help the small moan of pleasure that rose from her throat.
At that quiet whimper, Logan snapped, taking control of the kiss. His hold on her turned into an embrace as he tasted her mouth, his kiss frantic and fierce, leaving the both of them gasping for air before biting and licking and kissing again. She was whimpering and he was groaning and it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to her.
Her fantasies were all jack shit when measured up against the real thing, which is why what she had to do next was going to kill her.
When his arms dropped from restraining her to pull at her tank top she slid her hands up his chest, grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, hooked her leg behind his, kissed him one last time...
...and shoved him as hard as she could.
Logan toppled like a felled tree.
Before the dust could settle she swept up her discarded knife and was on top of him, one knee braced against his chest, the blade held firmly against his throat.
She could see his desire quickly dissolving into shock and then fury. He tried to sit up, and Marie pressed the knife deeper into his skin.
"Uh-uh, big guy," she said coldly, licking her lips. She could still taste him. "You know what I want to hear."
He froze, his nostrils flaring and his face distorted by rage.
She bent closer to him. "Say 'uncle'," she whispered.
She was prepared for his anger, was even prepared to get the cold shoulder from him a few days.
She wasn't prepared for him to press into the blade, not caring about the blade that cut into him, about the blood that was spilling down his front. It surprised her enough that when he bucked under her, Marie lost her balance. They rolled in the dirt, grappling for the knife with his blood and her harsh gasps, their struggle finally ending when he ripped the knife from her hand, snapped the blade in half with his bare hands, and tossed it aside.
Marie was flat on the ground, and he was above her, panting and bloody. She'd seen him face more than a handful of vicious enemies; Magneto, Mystique, Stryker, the Brotherhood...but she'd never seen him more berserk than he was...at her...right now.
She spat a mouthful of dirt out. "Well, you got what you wanted." She raised her eyes to his. "You're on top."
Provoked beyond his limit, Logan roared. Marie heard the familiar sound of metal on metal and all she could see was a blur of Logan and steel as his fists arched downward, toward her face. Marie closed her eyes and screamed.