What I'd witnessed that night rocked me to my core. With realization. With fear.

It made me think of things I hadn't thought of for a long time. Like Remy. And storybook endings. The part where they all lived happily ever after.

He was cocky at first, arrogant. Smarmy as hell. Tough as old boots. A bit of a player. That was just his way. But he wore his heart on his sleeve. Had a soul as sweet as molten caramel. A real soft spot for his mama. And good ole' southern cooking.

When I fell, it was with everything in me. I wasn't looking for anything. At least not serious. He didn't seem to mind about my past. I let him in. He knew everything. From the dirty sense of humor to the caustic, tar-blackness inside of me. In retrospect, that was a mistake I wasn't willing to make twice.

The silence lasted almost five days. Logan, he gave me space. I functioned as normal, maybe drinking a bit more during the week. Thoughts of what I'd observed, what I'd been a part of, pounded to the front of my mind whenever I was left alone. Which was most of the time. Work helped. It took a lot of brain power to crunch those numbers, and the pages and pages of tables were enough to be getting on with.

It was me who sought him out that time. Morning again. Right on the dock. Once the shock of his self-built property wore off, it was stupidly obvious. Of course, it would be right on the edge of the lake.

The cool, grey water was still, almost mirror-like, reflecting the heavy sky back on itself. Despite the cold, it was peaceful.

I wrapped my coat tighter around myself as I sat next to him on the frosted planks. Wordlessly, he handed me a mug of steaming coffee, which I curled my gloved fingers around, thankful for the seeping heat.

We sat there for a while. A long while. I was beginning to think that what happened, the sudden, violent overfamiliarity we'd forged, transcended words. That something fragile between us had been shattered.

Then I wondered if he was mad with me. I'd bailed on him right at the end, hadn't kept my end of the bargain. Like it would have even been possible to speak after what transpired. I'd seen right into his soul that night, past the gruff exterior, past the quick wit and sarcastic comments, right to the essence of what made him a man. It was new. And frightening. He'd let me see that. The girl he thought no more of than a platonic blip in time. So why?

My unvoiced questions hung in the air between us. Festering. Twisting their way further inward until I could stand the silence no longer.

"I'm not going to apologize," I blurted out.

He sighed, unmoving, "I'm not looking for an apology, kid. I'm looking to understand you."

Kid. The endearment that always used to be a comfort to me. Until it wasn't. Until it signified everything that was wrong with me.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Logan."

"Yeah, you are." I knew what he meant. Childish. Stubborn.

The sanctimonious injustice of that statement made something in me ignite.

"You wanna talk? Let's talk. What was last Sunday about?"

He shrugged, "thought I could offer you something. Something better than the only option you think you have left. And I want to know why."

"Maybe I'm not ready to tell you that yet."

"There are some hard truths I think you need to hear," He turned to me then, anger flaring. "You're better than this, so why are you makin' it so goddamn difficult? You're smart, you're young, you're pretty - so why are you doing this to yourself?"

Did he just call me pretty?

"Doing what?"

"Torturing yourself. You don't eat. You're pickling your liver, damaging your lungs."

He had a point. One that felt white hot and serrated as it cut through all the protective layers I'd spent so long building up.

"…it's the only way to stop it from hurting!"

"What?"

"You don't care. You left."

"We've been over this, Marie." He sounded worn down. Desolate.

"Bullshit! You're asking me to carve my heart out and serve it to you on a silver platter, but you won't answer one simple question for me!"

He was quiet for a good few seconds "…I don't think you could handle it."

"Try me."

He considered me a few seconds longer, weighing what to say versus how much of a physical impact it would have. And then, unexpectedly, what felt like the truth poured out of him.

"I left because of you. Because I was drowning. Because you had all this misplaced trust in me. You'd look at me like I was some type of… hero or… great protector. I didn't sign up to be your guardian."

Oh.

"I was fuckin' tired of trying to be the good guy all the time. Doin' what I thought was the right thing when everythin' in my nature was screaming at me to do the opposite."

Fuck him if he would make me cry. I would not cry in front of him.

"So it wasn't that I didn't care. In fact, I cared too goddamn much. That's why I had to get outta there. Let you grow up. Live your life."

"You wanna know what's wrong with me?"

I stood up so quickly he had to throw an arm up to stop me from falling into the lake. I all but bounced off him, setting me in motion.

"You running again?"

"No. Walk with me."

He looked confused, but complied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"After the cure, a whole world of potential opened up. I could finally let myself dream about what my future could be like. I could be normal. I met a guy at the vaccination center. Another pro-cure advocate. He was taking it for a similar reason, although his mutation didn't rule his life, it made his eyes glow red. So you know, a dead giveaway."

Our feet crunched over the frosted grass as we walked across the lawn of the mansion, heading around to a path that took us to the back of the property.

"As soon as the cure hit his bloodstream, the red faded from his eyes, and left their natural soft-whiskey color instead."

I was staring. He winked at me. Then held my hand as I had mine.

I led Logan through a hole in the hedge that he didn't really fit through, scraping up his hands and cutting a gash on his cheek, which healed over in an instant.

"We became wrapped up in each other. The idea of long-ago faded dreams now a possibility."

I began to dream again. Decided life was too short to put what I wanted on the back seat any longer. Luckily, he was game too.

Finally, I lost the ability to speak. Logan didn't fully understand what I was trying to explain, in my garbled, throat-constricted way, until he saw the rose bushes. A shrub for each one. Four in total.

I stood there, willing him to understand. To not make me say it out loud. Defective.

"It worked for him. Not for me."

My cheeks were burning now, as were my eyes. I swallowed.

"Maybe it's for the best… I would have been a shit mom."

He surprised me then by pulling me close, arms wrapping tightly around my unyielding body.

"I don't believe that. You got too much fight in ya to give up on what you believe in. Too much of a hell-raiser. You would've loved your kids with everything in ya."

I sniffed, pushed him back.

If the Wolverine was half the animal I knew him to be, he would be able to sense it. Everything happened for a reason. Everything by design. And it was obviously in the cards that I would meet the love of my life and be driven apart. Because of my skin. Because of what I did. Absolute. Malignant. Lethal. A life-sucking, all-consuming force.

He must have known that about me all along. And fuck him that he decided to give that back to me that night at the torch. A touch that poured complex, intangible raw emotion with that palpitating life into me. Bringing me back from a place that maybe I would have preferred to stay if I knew how things would've panned out.

"Tell me it didn't mean anything. Back at Liberty Island."

He eyed me steadily, almost wearily. "It didn't. Not a thing." Nothing about his body language was believable.

"Fuck you, Wolverine," I spat, stalking away back towards the hedge.

"Wouldn't you like that?" he called after me. I spun around to see his knowing grin, pissing me off all over again.

And I would, too.