Author's note: I know it's a bit early this week, but I wanted to get this up before the holiday crazy is in full swing. My WolverineMuse is quick to point out that Canadian Thanksgiving was several weeks back, but he's willing to roll with it for now. (And because my RogueMuse threatened to replace his bourbon with green bean casserole if he didn't play nice.) For those who celebrate: Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy the time with your family. And if there's eggnog, have one for me! Onward!

It was six days before Logan saw Marie again. Six long days and even longer nights, where he wondered if he'd pushed their unspoken connection beyond the place where it could reasonably recover. He'd been trying to make things better for her, not worse. The idea that he might have damaged something weighed heavily on his mind.

Marie found him on the dock, smoking and watching the red sun sinking low over the glassy water. She smelled like the road; wind and spice and stale fast food. Wherever she'd been sure wasn't local. Clinging to her hair and clothes was a strange cocktail of unfamiliar scents. The acrid tang of a bar, too— probably a lot of bars, he thought — sat over the top of it all. The faint purple he could see under her bloodshot eyes said she'd been doing a lot of something that wasn't sleeping.

He could relate.

Plopping a bottle down between them, she sat, not looking at his face, but not purposefully avoiding it, either. As awkward as things were between them, it was difficult not to appreciate the spectacular sunset. A few more minutes and the violent crimson sear would melt into rose and peach and soften into the longer, indigo shadows that he particularly enjoyed.

Naturally, Marie liked the wild riot of colors best, those fiery moments just before the sun sank below the horizon. Logan liked the stillness directly afterwards. Twilight was cold beer and fireflies, a warm dock under him and good hunting and a dozen other pleasant memories that held him through the darker hours.

They sat in stillness until it was over. When the last golden rays disappeared into the water, it felt like some kind of bell had been rung. The start of the next round.

"Hey, kid." Without taking the cigar from his mouth, he grunted in the direction of the bottle. "What's that?" Four Roses Single Barrel. Not outrageously expensive, but damn good bourbon all the same.

"Beware women bearing bottles, huh?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Intent, I reckon. Bribe? Excuse to get drunk? Molotov cocktail?" He tongued the stub of the cigar in thought and finally offered up, "Apology?"

Marie snorted at that. "You wish, cowboy."

He didn't, actually. Even a failed attempt at something generally still yielded useful information. They'd both called each other on some shit and delivered a few painful home truths, but he didn't really think she'd done anything to warrant owing him an apology. Then again, who the fuck knew what went on in her head anymore?

"Mmph." If she wanted to get wasted, that was up to her. Damn shame to kill a bottle of the good stuff that way, but she was a big girl.

"I always pay my debts, sugar." She nudged the bottle past neutral ground and onto his side. As she did, his words from the other night came back to him.

Hell, I bet you a bottle of the good stuff that you haven't had a meaningful connection with anyone since you shot yourself up with the Cure.

Well, shit.

So, that's what this was. An admission about the nature of her meaningful connections. That he hadn't expected. It rocked him back.

"Marie, you —"

"Take it," she interrupted, her voice hard as glass. "Connections, yes. Meaningful?" The bitterness in her tone was sharp enough to make him wince. "Not enough to win me that bet. And since my skin came back? Not even that."

He'd known that something pretty heavy had to have happened somewhere along the line. That much was obvious. She'd changed so much from how she used to be, but he hadn't dug too deeply into the reasons why. Probably as much because she clearly didn't want him to pry as much as he wasn't prepared for the answer. Apparently it was thornier than he'd imagined.

"Fuck." Not an eloquent response, but a heartfelt one.

"Yeah." Her reply was just as succinct.

He appreciated her ability to explain something clearly and concisely without actually having to have a long messy conversation about it. Neither of them were the type to spill their guts. It took an act of god to get much from the stoic Wolverine, and the Rogue — well, she was buttoned up just as tightly these days.

Logan wasn't sure 'thanks' was an appropriate response to the bottle and its accompanying revelation.

She'd as good as told him she'd dropped her guard after having the Cure and whatever had happened when she did had fucked her up badly enough that even the idea of being touched now was terrifying to her.

She'd willingly kick an ass, sure, but a touch? A handshake? A kiss? No way. The Rogue had made it crystal clear that she didn't welcome anyone's intimate touch, and if someone tried, she'd make damn sure they regretted it. Generally with a verbal bashing and a slew of bruises that took a long time to heal. She wanted the memory to last.

"You'd tell me if someone out there needed killin'."

It was somewhere between a demand and a plea. Christ, if someone had hurt her—

"It's — it's not that." Her inflection implied that whatever 'it' was ranked pretty high up there along with 'that'. Maybe not an assault — or a rape, he forced himself to acknowledge — but probably something she considered as painful. "Look, I took care of it, alright? I'm fine. Really."

"Yeah, you're a fuckin' poster child. All smiles and rainbows shootin' out your ass."

"Stow it, sugar." She made a production of scooting away.

"What?" he grunted.

"Just wanna be out of the kill zone when that bolt of lightning comes down and nukes your hypocritical ass."

That almost made him smile. His chest felt lighter than it had in days, though he realized they hadn't really solved anything. It was mostly just good to lay eyes on her and to know that things hadn't been damaged beyond repair. She was still here, willing to make an effort. He was too, which said a lot.

"Pretty sure you're safe, darlin'. The Almighty only fucks around with the ones worth savin'."

He could see right away his throw-away comment had fallen flat. Marie wasn't deeply religious and she wasn't morally offended, but she didn't like the idea of him as a lost cause. He honestly hadn't meant it that way. He had made his peace years ago. He and whatever higher power existed had mutually agreed to turn their backs on one another and that was that. Or at least, that's how he'd come to think of it over the decades.

He didn't like the idea of Marie adopting his theory, however. And he really didn't like seeing the glimmer of warmth fade from her eyes.

"Ah, hell. Maybe I'll have that drink now." Logan cracked the bottle, running a thumb appreciatively over the label before taking a sip. "Goddamn, that's good enough to do twice." He took another swallow and moved to pass the bottle over, but then he hesitated. "You eaten today?"

"I murdered a box of donuts somewhere around the state line."

"Close enough." Once upon a time she'd have pulled the bottle from his fingers. Now she waited for him to set it on the dock and pull his hand away before she picked it up. He hated that she did that. And that it was almost automatic, now.

He also recognized an olive branch when he saw one. Rogue was a proud woman, strong and reckless and more than a little wild, but she was a good woman, too. Smart. Selfless. Honest, even when it hurt— though she was far more brutal with herself than she'd ever been with him. They passed the bottle back and forth several times watching as the sky faded from a warm apricot to a rosy plum, thinking about the past and present.

All of that was underscored by the knowledge that she'd been sweet on him, once upon a time. Over the years it had morphed into this thing that neither of them had really bothered to define. It was enough to know it was there. Or it had been until she'd sat beside him on this dock and told him she'd watched him come.

In response, he'd made an offer that had set all of this in motion. Logan had been doing a lot of thinking about that lately. Trying to figure it out. Not the 'how' as much as the 'why'.

The awareness she was attracted to him had played a part in it. Marie found it arousing to watch him have sex, and he couldn't deny that knowledge did something for him in a major way. And god knew the animal approved of pretty much anything that put a sexually aroused Marie in close proximity. Just because she was afraid of physical intimacy didn't mean the body's natural drive for sex diminished.

Every time he saw her lately, she made him think of an overripe peach. The kind that rends so sweetly when bitten; sweet on the tongue, juicy lips, dripping chin, sticky fingers…

"Quit hogging the bottle, cowboy."

Logan looked down and realized that somewhere along the way he'd reclaimed the bottle and made a pretty decent dent in it— or maybe she had? Beside him, Marie swayed a little as she made a 'gimme' gesture with a gloved hand.

"You drunk?" he grunted, setting the bottle between them so she could comfortably take it.

"Nah. Just buzzin' pretty good because the donuts ran out hours ago and I could eat a cow, horns and all."

"Heh." That did make him smile. "Long drive?"

He usually asked. It was part of the game. She always evaded. "Yep. Feels like I hit every pothole between here and… there." Her grin wasn't quite so bright. She hated questions probing into her mysterious disappearances, but he couldn't quite seem to stop asking them. Even now. "And I thought it might help."

"Help?"

"Yeah. Dutch courage, you know?"

"Fuck that. Darlin', you got enough Mississippi courage for the both of us."

Her laugh rang out over the water. He so rarely heard that from her anymore. It warmed him from the inside out.

"There's that silver tongue that charms all the girls," she teased.

He grunted. "Ain't my mouth they want." It was his body. That, and he had a big dick and knew how to use it — and the fact that the sharing of both was typically preceded by pounding other men bloody in front of an unruly crowd.

Mother Nature could be a bitch, but you had to give it to her; the system she created worked damn well for a man like himself. Females wanted to mate with the alpha. That was her law, not his. Though he wasn't above using it to his advantage when it suited him.

"I don't know about that. I bet it's what Cheyenne wanted."

Logan's mouth hung open slightly at her candor.

"Shit. Did I say that out loud?" Marie flushed. "Oops. I guess maybe I should have gone with 'more than a little buzzed.' Sorry. I haven't had a decent meal since Greensboro."

"Indiana or North Carolina?"

Marie ignored him. "How much crow did you have to eat to get back in her good graces, anyway?"

"Enough." Two drinks at the bar. And four orgasms, but it wasn't much of a hardship with the scent of Marie's arousal burned into his brain. All he had to do was think about how Marie had wet her lips each time he pumped into Chey's silky throat and he was half gone already.

"Figures." Marie rolled her eyes.

"What?"

"That I can barely get two words out of you now when last week you were Mr. Full Disclosure."

"Mmph."

She took another drink and when she set the bottle down, he took it away from her with a warning look and a knowing expression.

"Hey."

"Slow down, kid. Too much more and I'm gonna have to carry your ass back. You're heavier than you look."

That made her laugh again. "Guess I just better get on with saying it then, huh?"

"Sayin' what?"

"That you're an arrogant ass and a surly son-of-a-bitch and I was mad as hell at you for makin' that offer, and madder still that I took it."

"Shit," he muttered.

She took a deep breath and charged on. "But the real truth is that I got off thinking about what I saw every night since then—" his eyebrows shot to his hairline. "So I didn't want to you to be, you know, thinking I hated your guts or tying yourself up in knots or whatever— if, if you were…"

"Jesus fuck."

"I know—"

"Every night?"

She nodded, blushing bright red. "Every night. Sometimes in the morning, too. In the bath. Once in the driver's seat on the side of the road in bum fuck Georgia when I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Fuck," he said again, adjusting his obvious erection.

"So in the spirit of, you know, full disclosure, — and because I hate owing anyone a dadgum thing — I felt it was only fair to put my cards on the table, too."

"Marie—"

"Look, I know we don't talk about this, but that night in the torch, you didn't leave me. You came. You saved me. I know this isn't the same thing. I know you don't need me to save you and it's not about comparing those two experiences or paybacks or whatever the hell else— But for what it's worth, I didn't want you thinking I was gonna let you twist alone in the wind, putting yourself out there and not getting anything back because that's just shitty. That's — that's not how I am. How we are."

He nodded, unsure what to say to that heartfelt display of loyalty.

"And before I lose my nerve, and maybe the maple bars," He smiled a little at her self-deprecating humor because she'd hit the bottle pretty hard for someone who'd only had donuts in the past twenty or so hours, "I wanted to say that I'd be okay with it if you ever felt like inviting me again sometime."

He was too shocked to even temper his reply. "Because it worked so well the last time? Jesus Christ. Maybe we should just eviscerate each other now and be done with it." An orgasm, even a damn good one, wasn't worth the emotional carnage the aftermath had inspired.

"I liked what I saw," she countered quietly. "A lot."

"Yeah." That had never been in question.

She swallowed and her voice wavered, but she didn't hesitate. "I like that you knew I would. I like that you issued that damn invitation knowing full well I'd wanna fuck your shit up and you still had the balls to do it anyway." He smirked a bit at that and her voice grew softer. "And I especially like that you weathered that storm and still managed to give me something nice."

Nice? That wasn't the word he'd use. He might have given her another negative response despite the heat in her words if she hadn't turned and caught his eye.

"I liked what I saw," she said again, her voice thrumming with quiet intensity. "And how it felt. And how it feels now."

"Mmph." He could feel his resolve slipping and already knew he was going to capitulate. But it was worth drawing it out because she hadn't been this open with him in years. Who knew what else she might give up before he finally relented.

"Sure, I was mad. And embarrassed." He winced a little at that, wondering about the depth and breadth of her prior sexual experience. "It was a little scary and a lot awkward, but… good. So, so good, sugar." Her eyes gleamed. "Crazy hot, but still…. safe." He could see something in her give way at that last word and understood the silent subtext. Sex hadn't ever felt safe. That sold it, right there. "Look, I know it's weird."

"So?" He shrugged. "S'worked for us so far."

She gave him a look clearly asking for further exposition on that subject.

Logan sighed.

"S'fuckin' weird you saw whatcha did in that bar in Laughlin and decided hitchin' with me was a good idea. S'weird you and me were okay after I stuck ya, too." She made a protesting sort of sound, clearly remembering the details of the night he'd jammed his claws in her chest, but he wasn't done. "And it's fuckin' weird with as much of me as you got rattlin' around up there that you and me are still good." That floored him even now.

"Fair enough."

"Some shit don't make sense. It just works."

"I guess." He gave her a look that said her noncommittal comment had no place in a discussion this deep. "I mean, that's kinda what was thinkin' on as I drove." He understood it wasn't the sex as much as the rest of it. "By the time I got there—"

"There?" he tossed out, wondering how far he could push.

"If I tell you, will you invite me again?"

She had too much pride to beg, but she wasn't above offering a straight up trade.

Interesting.

"No." She must have been pretty drunk, because disappointment flashed clearly on her face before she was able to school her features into a neutral expression. Logan had to smother his smile as he took a deep pull off the bottle and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "That's yours if you want it either way, kid," he clarified.

He was taking a big risk dismissing his advantage, but he'd found he preferred those secrets freely given. If she wanted to share because something internal drove her, then fine. But he wasn't about to pressure her into it by withholding something he knew she wanted badly. No way. That skated too close to straight up manipulation, especially for something so private.

He saw the surprise in her eyes, and the warmth.

"I'll take that deal, cowboy."

"Thought you might."

For a long time, neither of them said anything. The sky bled from plum to violet to an inky indigo as the song of the crickets and frogs tapered away. The wind picked up, rustling the reeds along the shore and rocking the dock under them with gentle ripples. When the first stars began to appear, Marie pushed herself to her feet.

"N'Orleans," she drawled, automatically widening her stance as the dock shifted under her.

Logan simply nodded. The tip of his cigar glowed red in the darkness.

That one little answer got his attention even more than the erotic nature of her previous confession. He hadn't been consciously trying to trade physical intimacy for emotional intimacy, but he wasn't about to turn it down, either. Certainly not when she offered it up freely and without coercion. That was an exchange he could live with.

What he'd done, letting her see those private things— not the sex, but the private details about himself — that had been hard for him. He didn't like her throwing that in his face, but now that she'd decided to reciprocate by doing the hard thing for her… he realized a precedent had been set.

It was done.

Cemented, now.

A contract had been established; the shuddering of his body, his loss of control and shaking hands, in exchange for her secret confessions whispered in the dark.

And now, all that remained was finding out how many times they could play the game before the truths revealed became too much to bear.

Up next: Kindle. So, the bargain has been made. Gold star for anyone who guesses where they wind up next.