Shit, shit shit, Logan thought as he pushed the motorcycle to its limits, heading down the dark roads towards Westchester. I never should've left her there. I should've known they couldn't keep her safe. I should've…shit. He growled and tried to increase the speed, only to let out another angry groan as he realized the motorcycle was going full power. What if he'd be too late? At the thought, Logan felt his blood start to boil again. They can't hurt her. They can't. And if they do…His imagination made his heart clench in sorrow. Mystique and Sabretooth were unpredictable. And dammit, why had Marie been on that mission in the first place? As soon as I'm there, I'll give Chuck a piece of my mind about letting a slip of a girl go on a mission, he thought, anger and panic struggling inside him. And Scott…he should've protected her, not let her get caught…shit.

This was not how he had pictured his return. He had dreamed of coming back home, taking Marie into his arms and never let her go again. He had wanted to tell her he loved her and that he'd never leave her again. And now it could be too late… He cursed again as he finally caught the sight of the mansion, the windows shining brightly against the darkness of the night. The gates opened in front of him as Logan sped up a last time, racing up the drive. Marie had to be OK. She had to.

Marie sat in the dim, moldy cell Mystique had locked her in and sobbed. She didn't know exactly how long it had been since the fight and her capture, but it seemed like days. Stop crying, Marie, she told herself. You're behaving like a little girl. The others will be here in no time and get you out. Still, the fear that made her stomach clench didn't leave her. Magneto had been bad enough, but now she was in the hands of two psychopaths who liked torturing people for fun.

She shuddered from the damp cold in the room that was creeping up her body from the floor she was sitting on and the anxiety of what was going to happen. Normally, she wouldn't have been afraid. She was an x-woman. But here, in the dark, she suddenly felt terribly alone and vulnerable.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Marie got up and started to pace. One the one hand, that would keep her at least a little warmer, and on the other, that habit of Logan's always calmed her down.

With a sad smile, she thought of him, and couldn't help wondering if she would ever see him again. But she fought the panic that was threatening to take over. You're not dead yet, Marie. And you'll not give up without a fight, she chastised herself. Forcing her mind away from that line of thought, she recalled the last time she had seen Logan. It had been the day of his departure, three years ago, when he had given her the tags. "I'll be back for this," he had promised, and closing her eyes, Marie let her inner voice repeat that sentence over and over. He would come and get her out. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. Surely the professor had already contacted him and he was on his way. And when he'd come and rescue her one more time, she would tell him she loved him.

"What do you mean, you haven't tried yet?" Logan jumped up from the comfortable armchair in the professor's office and started to pace. On the expensive carpet, his boots left stains of the dust and dirt from the road that he hadn't taken the time to wash off. He turned to the desk the older man was sitting at and gave him an angry glare. His face was distorted with anger and fear, making him look even more threatening than usual.

"I told you to take care of my girl while I was gone. So why the fuck haven't you tried to get her out of there yet? She was on one of *your* damn missions, so I think it's just fair if you help her out a little here."

"I will. I just wanted to talk to you before. There's no reason to panic. Magneto is still in prison and without him, Mystique and Sabretooth will not think about anything more grave than blackmailing us into paying ransom. And for that, they need to keep Rogue alive and reasonably well."

The professor's calm voice drove Logan mad. He took a solid brass paperweight and hurled it through the window.

"What do you mean, `reasonably'? A little torment can't be that bad? Fuck you, Chuck. I don't want Marie `reasonably' well, I want her perfectly OK or I don't know what I'm gonna do." He growled and turned to the door. "I'm leaving in five minutes. Is anyone coming with me or do you want to have some tea and biscuits first?"

Professor Xavier sighed. "Really, Logan, I can't imagine that they're stupid enough to hurt Rogue." He paused and considered his options. "Scott and Ororo will go with you."

"Tell them to be ready in five minutes or I'll have to get that damn jet started on my own."
With that threat, he slammed the door shut behind him and ran down to the hangar.

Four minutes and fifty-eight seconds later, the blackbird took off.

In the abandoned flight base far up North, Mystique got up and strolled over to the elevator that would bring her down to the basement. Her accomplice looked up.
"So what are you gonna do with her?" Sabretooth asked.

Slipping into the rough features of the Wolverine, Mystique let a slight evil smile curl her lips.
"Have some fun."

The sound of a key being turned snapped Marie out of her dreams. Supressing her fear, she jumped back from the door, ready to fight any enemy. Slowly, the door opened and harsh light fell into the room. Marie blinked. She heard the sounds of heavy boots shuffling against the floor, and saw a tall figure standing in the doorframe, dark against the lights behind him. Disbelieving, she blinked again. Then, dropping all caution, she ran towards him and threw herself into his arms.

"Logan! Oh God, you're here. I knew you'd come and get me. I knew…" Her voice was cut off by sobs of relief.

Logan's lips curled into one of his half-smiles. "You missed me, didn't you, baby?"

She stepped back and smiled brilliantly. "Yes." Suddenly, she remembered the situation they were in and threw a suspicious look at the keys in his hands.
"How did you get the keys? Where are Mystique and Sabretooth?"

He shrugged. "Taken care of."

Her face lit up. "Did you come with Scott and the others?"

He shrugged again. "Why don't you stop asking questions and give me a proper welcome?"
Again, a smile curled his lips, and unconsciously Marie moved back when he stepped closer to her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, intimidated by the wicked grin on his lips and the mad glint in his eyes. She moved back again and felt her back touch the wall.

"Let me show you." Faster than she could react, he had caught her wrists and pinned her into the wall. Marie tried to protest, but her tongue didn't obey her and just little puffs of air left her mouth. As he moved closer and trapped her between the wall and his hard body, she began to tremble uncontrollably. "You're a pretty girl…much prettier than the last time I saw you," he whispered, reaching for the zipper of her uniform. As he began to pull it down, the cold metal of the zipper sliding down against the sensitive flesh between her breasts, her tongue finally formed words.

"Let me go," she pleaded, shocked and angry at how tiny and quiet her voice was.

He laughed. "Why? Don't say you don't want me. I know you do."

He continued to pull at the zipper, and with horror she realized that it was already down to her stomach. "You're not Logan," she finally choked out.

He laughed again. "Why not?"

She tried to straighten up, but failed miserably. In the corners of her eyes, tears welled up. "Because Logan wouldn't do this," she sobbed, unable to hold back her fear.

Grinning, he jerked apart the front of her uniform and revealed her breasts. "If you're comfortable with that thought, alright. But have you never considered why it took me so long to get back to the mansion? Have you never considered that I joined the brotherhood? They have a lot more to offer than Chuck."

Marie shook her head. "No!" She tried to wriggle out of the hold he had on her, fought with all the power she had, and managed to push him away just long enough to stumble forward, towards the door. But her shaking body didn't move fast enough. After two steps, he was behind her and wrestled her to the ground. Flipping her around, he straddled her waist and finally ripped off the top of her uniform. She kicked and screamed, but he just roared with laughter.

"You're not Logan. You're not Logan," she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt rough hands crushing her breasts. "Let go! I'm gonna kill you if you don't," she cried in a trembling voice. In a last, weak attempt to fight him off, she activated her mutation, but was only rewarded with a sneering laugh.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to risk your touch?" he said, and only then did she notice that he was wearing gloves.

"You can't cover everything," she cried and pulled one hand out of his hold, reaching out for his face. But before she could touch it, he caught her wrist again and slapped her face, hard enough to make blood rush out of her nose and leave her on the brink of unconsciouness. He used her dazed status to tie up her hands behind her back until she couldn't move her upper body any more.

Weakly, Marie opened her eyes again, her head hurting like hell and blood running down her throat. She felt like she had to throw up. Above her, she saw Logan unsheathe the claws and shred the pants of her uniform to pieces. She let her eyes fall shut again as she felt the rough hands return to her body, bruising her pale flesh.

With a painful sigh, she let the dull ache in her head lull her mind, locking out the groaning and bucking above her and the sharp pain that shot through her lower body. Only once, she opened her eyes and saw Logan, teeth bared, fists clenched, pulling at her hair, his hateful gaze locked on her face. With a sob, she squeezed her eyes shut again.

You're not Logan, you're not Logan…Logan is causing me pain…you're not Logan…Logan is hurting me…you're not, you're not, you're not…Logan is hurting me…you're not…you're…Logan…you're…pain…

Hours later, Marie woke, every cell of her body aching, feeling dirty and sick. She was still lying on the floor, dried blood petrifying her face to a stiff mask, her uniform shredded, bruises covering her whole body.

With a lot of effort, she pulled up her legs and crawled over to the dirty mattress in another corner of the room. There she curled up and cried herself to sleep again.

Suddenly the sound of keys shook her out of her dozing again. Her pain forgotten, she jumped up, her heart pounding wildly, and pressed herself into the darkest corner of the room. The door was flung open and Logan stomped in.

"Marie?" Logan's voice was on the edge of panic. He had searched every room in the building and Marie was nowhere to be found. If the bastards have hurt her, I'm gonna give them a long and painful death, he thought to himself.

He looked around in the room, the dirtiest and darkest cell he had seen so far, and was just about to leave when he heard a fearful gasp. Furrowing his brow, he had a closer look, and suddenly discovered a pair of large brown eyes looking at him with fear and horror.

"Marie!" he stepped closer and reached out to touch her, but she flinched, pressing herself even closer against the wall.

"Don't touch me." It was barely a whisper, but the fear and desperation in her voice was obvious.

Confused, he dropped his hand. "Marie, it's me." He risked another step towards her, only to be stopped by a loud sob.

"Please," Marie begged, "don't do this again. Please." Her frantic plea made him stop dead in his tracks. Slowly, in order not to scare her any more, he moved back, and the light he had been blocking fell into the room, giving him a full view of the girl.

Her appearance almost made his heart stop. He took in the blood on her face, the broken skin of her cheek, the bruises and blue fingerprints all over her soft skin and the rags that had been her uniform, and got a glimpse of what had happened. Inside him, an incredible rage built up, anger at those who had tortured Marie and anger at himself, because he had been too late. Something inside him snapped.

With a roar, he unsheathed the claws and rammed them into the wall. For minutes, he went on, slashing the mattress on the floor, cursing and yelling and screaming out all he wanted to do to Sabretooth and Mystique, when suddenly a low whimper brought him back to reality. He retracted the claws and focused on Marie again. The tears that were streaming down her cheeks washed off the blood that had dried there, seeming as if Marie cried crimson tears. She had slid down the wall, huddling up against it as closely as she could, looking up at him with blurred eyes. Logan felt his heart clench. His sweet Marie was the epitome of misery. And she was afraid of him.

With a painful howl, he stumbled back into the hall and yelled for Scott.

"How is she?" Logan demanded when Jean stepped out of the medlab after hours of examination. He had refused to leave the hall or even go to bed, but instead had been pacing up and down in front of the door to the infirmary, cursing and accusing the professor, the X-men and himself for not being there when Marie needed them. His guilt choked him and made him sick. He had promised Marie to take care of her, and now she was there in the medlab, beaten to a pulp.

"I gave her a sedative and now she's asleep," Jean answered carefully. Inside, she chastised herself for underestimating the danger Rogue had been in. The girl had been seriously injured, not only physically, but most of all psychially. And even though Rogue hadn't told her what had happened, her injuries had told Jean the story. With a shudder, she imagined herself in the same situation Rogue had been in, and what she would have felt: she would have wanted to die.

Of course, her vague answer didn't satisfy Logan. He shook her angrily. "What happened? Is it bad? Can I touch her?"

Jean avoided his glare. "She has a laceration above her cheekbone, major and minor bruises all over her body, especially on the wrists, and grazes. All not life threatening, but…"

He shook her again. "What?"

Jean straightened up. "She's been raped, Logan. And even though she's physically injured, her other wounds will be much more difficult to heal."

With a growl, Logan dropped her and slammed his fists into the next wall. "Who?" he hissed out, and Jean was shocked at the mad look on his face.

"Rogue was in a state of shock. I couldn't talk to her yet," she replied. She squeezed his arm and bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

Marie woke with a scream. In her dream, her tortured mind had recalled the memory of what had happened over and over again, almost making her believe she was back at the base, in that dark, moldy room. She blinked at the light that was reflected on the medical instruments and white tiles, and sank back into her bed. She took a deep breath to calm her wildly pounding heart. The medlab, Marie. It's just the medlab. You're safe.

Anyway, when the door opened she flinched and jumped out of bed, only to be rewarded with shots of pain all over her body.
"Rogue!" Jean exclaimed and rushed to her side. She placed the terrified girl in the bed again, then stepped up close to her and took her hand. "You're safe here. Nothing's gonna happen any more. Mystique and Sabretooth are dead. Logan killed them."

"Logan?" Marie winced when suddenly the pictures from her nightmares came back.

"Yes," Jean said, furrowing her brow. "He's waiting outside. He came back to rescue you. Don't you wanna see him?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, Marie tried to suppress the images that were flashing through her mind, but it was futile. "No!" she screamed, pressing her hands to her temples as if to squeeze out the horror that was locked in there forever.

"Rogue? Calm down. It's alright, shh." Jean hushed her when Marie started to cry. She put her arms around the girl. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked softly, desperately hoping she did the right thing.

"Logan…" Marie sobbed.

"Yeah, he's here. Do you want me to call him in?" Jean said soothingly.

"Nooo!" the other cried.

Jean was confused. "What about Logan, then?"

"He hurt me," Marie whispered.

"No, Logan, you can't go in there," Jean tried to insist in a firm voice, but the rage on the face of the man in front of her made her lips tremble. He wanted to go into the medlab, and as she was standing there, her back pressed to the closed door, her arms spread protectively, she was the only obstacle between him and his aim.~Professor, could you please send someone down here…~

"Why the hell can't I see her? I want to see her." Logan clenched his fists and Jean knew that he was close to exploding. She wouldn't be able to hold him back much longer.

She straightened up, prepared to say the one thing she knew could stop him. The one thing that would hurt him the most. "She doesn't want to see you."

Logan froze, the expression on his face changing from furious to horrified. "What?" he choked out, and pity welled up in Jean at his miserable voice.

She reached out for him and stepped away from the door. "I'm sorry Logan. She doesn't want to see you."

His shoulders slumped. "Why not?"

"Because…" Jean bit her lip. She knew that Logan could never harm Marie, and that what had happened had to be one of Mystique's atrocities. The blue bitch had hit both Rogue and Logan where it hurt the most. But while she knew she couldn't let him go in there without terrifying the girl, she couldn't bring herself to tell him what exactly had happened to his beloved.

Her hesitation made Logan angry again within seconds. "Why?" he insisted, grabbing her by her collar. When she didn't answer, he pushed her aside roughly and growled. "You're lying. You don't want me to go in there. As you didn't want to rescue Marie in time. But I'm never gonna leave her to you again."

Before Jean could stop him, he stomped into the medlab. "Logan! No!"

The opening of the door, along with Jean's desperate cry, made Marie's head snap up from her pillow and turn towards the noise. She heard the sounds of someone approaching, and when she saw Logan hurry towards her, she jumped out of bed again, starting to sob and tremble uncontrollably. She stretched out her hands in a pleading gesture. "Please, no. Don't. Please…"

Seeing her desperate face, the tears that were streaming down her cheeks and the shaking of her body, Logan stopped in the middle of the room. What had happened to his Marie? She had never been afraid of him, what had he done wrong?
"Marie," he reached out towards her, but she only whimpered and moved back further. "Baby, what's wrong? It's me…you're safe." Anyway, he could smell the fear rolling off her in waves, and it tore at his heart. This was the worst thing he had ever gone through.

He backed up, slowly, not wanting to scare her any more. She followed his every movement with her eyes, not believing that he wasn't there to harm her, expecting to be attacked any second. "Please…stay away from me," she whispered. He looked at her red, puffy face and trembling lips and felt his heart break.

"Marie, baby, what's wrong? Tell me, please," he begged while his world was shattered to pieces. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep from crying, but when he heard a loud sob, they snapped open again. For a few seconds, their eyes met, and he saw agonizing pain and disbelief flicker in hers.

"It h-hurt," she cried out.

"I know baby. I'm sorry. You're safe now," he pleaded, taking a thoughtless step towards her.

She flinched and jumped back, her whole body speaking of the terror she was going through. "No, I'm not," she said, her voice on the edge of panic and her eyes still flickering feverishly. "You hurt me."

Logan stared at her in disbelief and shock. "Marie," he started, but his voice broke off. Didn't she know that he'd rather kill himself than hurt her? In his eyes, tears started to prickle. Here he was, the Wolverine, who had always thought he was invulnerable. And now a girl had stabbed his heart with three little words. Without a word, he turned and ran out, not looking left nor right, leaving a crying Jean and a confused Scott with the trembling girl in the medlab. His Marie.

A knock on the door shook Logan out of his painful thoughts. He was curled up on his bed, his back facing the door. He heard the noise of the door being opened and someone stepping in. "Leave me alone," he muttered. He didn't need anyone since the one person he wanted was…afraid of him.

"Logan, we need to talk to you," Jean said quietly.

"There's something you must to know," the calm voice of the professor added.

Logan turned with a sigh. "And there's something you should know. If it hadn't been for you and your lack of concern, all this wouldn't have happened. So leave me alone now, will you?" His words would have been angry and accusing if he'd had the strength for that, but the only emotion he felt was emptiness and the dull ache of his broken heart. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rested his chin in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to let the people who were responsible for all the agony see his tears.

Uncomfortable silence filled the room, but was finally interrupted by the professor. "I know I've made a mistake, and I apologize. But what's even more important…"

At these words, Logan's head snapped up, and some of the old temper glinted in his eyes. "You *apologize*? Do you realize what you've done to Marie? To *us*? Or what could've been us," he added with a bitter laugh that could as well have been a sob.

"Logan, please listen. I know the whole situation is terrible for both of you, but you need to know what happened."

Logan snorted. "I know what happened. These fucking bastards tortured Marie so badly that she's even afraid of *me*. And I don't wanna know any details."

The professor and Jean exchanged a look, and he sighed. "I'm sorry, and I know this will be painful for you, but you need to know. Rogue needs our help now and if you want to help her, you have to listen to me."

His concerned look met Logan's, then he nodded. "OK. I'll listen. I want to help her."

The professor nodded, too, then straightened up, preparing for what he had to say.

"Jean told you that Rogue has been…raped," he began.

At the words and the mental pictures that were popping up in Logan's head, he groaned painfully. "Yes."

The professor continued. "First we thought it had been Sabretooth, but then it occurred to us - from what Rogue is projecting and what she has said to Jean - that…that she…"

"That Mystique did it. And she pretended to be you," Jean finished the sentence. The sooner they got over with this horrible talk, the better. "I'm so sorry, Logan."

Logan stared at them, his mouth moving but not releasing any words. This was even worse than he had thought it was - and five minutes ago, he wouldn't have imagined that it could be any worse. Oh God, baby, I'm sorry, he thought. Then another thought hit his mind. "So - so Marie thinks I'd - I'd do that to her?" A lump in his throat choked him. Didn't she know he loved her? Didn't she…

Jean sighed, suddenly feeling incredibly tired and helpless. "In her state of shock, Rogue can't distinguish between what she saw and what really happened. I'm sure she knows that you would never hurt her."

Logan couldn't help imagining what had happened in that dreadful moment between Marie and what had looked like him, feeling the rough hands bruising her body, ripping her clothes, hurting her the worst way possible. And during all that she had looked into his face, heard his voice, felt his hands…thought *he* was hurting her, the person she trusted the most…she loved the most, he hoped, at the same time wishing she didn't love him, knowing how much that would increase her pain. And he had thought *he* was feeling the worst agony possible. He had felt rejected. How could he have been so selfish? Oh God, Marie, so sorry baby, so sorry… Tears started to prickle again, but now he let them flow down his cheeks, crying for his girl, wishing he could turn back time to come back earlier and hold her close to shield her from any harm. "What can I do?" he asked.

Logan sat at his window, impatiently smoking one cigar after the other. He had agreed with the professor to stay out of Marie's sight for a while, at least until the professor had spoken to her. But the waiting was driving him mad. Jean had taken her out of the medlab today, and he had watched the two of them walking in the garden from his window.

His heart ached. He wanted to be close to Marie, comfort her now that she needed it the most, but that was the one thing he couldn't. He straightened up with a sigh. This wasn't about him, he told himself. It was about Marie. And if the one thing he could do to help was stay away from her, he'd do so. Even if it killed him. He could just hope one day, she'd be able to talk to him again. Just talk, he thought sadly. She'd probably never be able to have a relationship with him now…but that was probably fate's punishment for not being there when she needed him. He had promised and he had failed. Now he had to pay.

As often during the last couple of weeks, Marie sat in the professor's comfortable little office, uncomfortably picking at the seams of her shirt.

"Welcome Rogue. How are you feeling?" the professor asked.

She looked up to see if he was just being polite, but his face showed true concern.

"Actually I feel…not that good," she whispered, not quite looking at him. Relax, Rogue, she told herself, this is just the professor.

He took in the shadows circling her eyes, the puffy face that told of recent tears, and her whole body language. The girl was miserable. Jean had told him that Rogue was suffering from terrible nightmares and hardly got any sleep at all. If the girl didn't work out her emotions soon, she would get seriously ill. Eight weeks after the incident, she still didn't want to talk nor let anyone get close to her. Again, he cursed himself for underestimating the situation.

"I understand, Rogue. Is there anything I can do?" he offered, fully aware that he couldn't do anything.

She shook her head. "No professor. Thank you."

He sighed silently. The same response, every time. They were losing Rogue, and no one could help her.

"Noooo!" Rogue screamed, waking up from one of the most vivid, horrible recalls of what had happened. She jumped out of bed, horrified, then, realizing where she was, dropped to the floor in a heap of sobbing misery. "Stopstopstopstopstop," she whispered to the angry images in her head, pressing her fists to her temples.

She crawled into her bed again and curled up into a fetal position. Tears soaked her pillow, but she hardly noticed as she drifted off to another merciless dream.
 

In the hall, in front of Marie's door, Logan sat on the floor, his back to the wall, biting his fist to keep from screaming out his anger and pain. He wanted to hold her and soothe her, but he couldn't. It was his fault. All his fault… As he heard her muffled sobs from behind the door, he got up and walked back to his room. He heard her scream in horror every night, several times…and every time, he died a little with her.
 

Logan stood in the door to the garden, hidden behind a curtain, and watched Marie as she sat on a bench with Ororo. His heart clenched as he took in her appearance. She was pale, her big brown eyes framed with dark shadows. Her once curvy body was thin, almost skinny, and her body language told of ever-present fear and caution.

He heard a noise behind him and saw Jean stepping towards him. She stopped behind him and looked over his shoulder. He let out a sigh. "Can't I do anything?" he asked quietly. He hated to be so helpless.

She shrugged. "I wish you could. She doesn't sleep. She doesn't talk. She only eats the tiniest meals. And I fear that she has bulimia besides that."

He furrowed his brow in frustration. "Every night I stand at her door when she screams, and I wish I could hold her. I would give my life if I could just hold her once again." He choked on his tears and Jean squeezed his shoulder. They all hated to see Rogue suffer without being able to do anything, but it was worst for Logan.

He turned his back to the door and faced her, and she was shocked at his desperate expression. "She'll die, Jean," he whispered, his voice heavy with tears. "And it's my fault."

"It's not, Logan. Don't ever think that," she reassured him. She wished she could also say so about Rogue, but he was right. The girl was slipping through their fingers like dry sand.

"…and now we're gonna have dinner together, OK?" they suddenly heard Ororo's voice, nearing the door they were standing at.

"OK," came Marie's quiet response.

Logan backed off immediately, but it was too late. The two women stepped through the door, almost colliding with Jean and Logan. Marie looked up from the little basket of flowers she was carrying and flinched as she saw who was standing in front of her. The flowers fell to the ground as she turned sharply and ran out into the garden. "Marie!" Logan called, following her out.

"Logan! No. Leave her alone," Jean pleaded, grabbing his arm. He shrugged her off.

"I have to try Jean. How much worse can it get?" He looked into her eyes and she saw all the fear and desperation and let go. He turned and ran out into the woods, where Marie had disappeared.
 

He followed her scent and found her on a small clearing. She was trapped between the thick wall of thorny bushes and him, and when he saw her expression, on the brink of panic, he stopped approaching her and stood there, motionless, his hands held out towards her as a gesture of peace.

Her breathing was erratic, and Marie felt close to fainting. Somewhere, at the back of her consciousness, she knew that this was Logan, that he hadn't and wouldn't hurt her, but the ever-present fear she had learned to live with during the last months choked her and drowned all reason.

"Marie," he said, and she gasped at his tender voice and the pain contorting his features. "I won't hurt you. I won't touch you. Just please…can I say something?"

She moved back a few more steps and, when he didn't move, nodded carefully, but kept her eyes fixed on him. Don't trust him, a voice inside her whispered. He'll hurt you, hurt you, hurt you… She fought her panic and nodded again.

He struggled to find the right words, knowing that this was important, that maybe this was the only chance he'd get. Ever.
"I know what happened. And I know what it looked like. But…" he fidgeted nervously. Have to get this out right. Have to. "You just gotta know that I'd never hurt you. Ever. You're my everything, Marie. I love you. I want to make it better. I want to help you. I want to make up for not being there when you needed me. I'm sorry. I should have protected you, but I…" he broke off. There was really no excuse for that. He had failed.

He looked at her, and saw different emotions in her expression, fear and pain and sadness, but her muddled mind seemed to clear up somewhat. She met his eyes, and he saw that hers were blurred with tears, but not glazed over with horrible visions or the hint of insanity she had been wearing lately. A tear rolled down her cheek, then another, and finally she sobbed openly. "Logan," she whispered, and his heart clenched at the way she said it. Longing and needing. He took a few steps towards her, and she didn't flinch, didn't retreat, but just waited until he was standing in front of her. Her teary eyes met his. "Why weren't you there? It hurt so bad…" she said quietly, and the small bit of hope that had grown in his heart was destroyed again. Of course she couldn't forgive him that. He clenched his fists and suppressed a painful growl. She was talking to him. She knew it hadn't been him that hurt her. He had to be thankful for that. He had to do right by her, at least now.

"So sorry Marie. So sorry…" His voice broke off as she closed the space between them and stepped into his embrace. He hugged her carefully, anxious not to hold her too close, restrain her, but she pressed her face into his shirt and sobbed frantically.

"Help me, Logan," she sobbed, and he nodded, unable to speak. He would. He would help her now.

"Eat some more, Marie? Please?" They sat in the dining room, facing each other. Marie was looking down at a half-eaten cheese sandwich, her face showing disgust.

"I can't." Her forehead was wet with sweat, and Logan could smell her nervousness. After more than three months, she was eating with the others, in the dining room, for the first time again, and Logan knew that all the pitiful looks and low whispers behind her back made Marie uncomfortable. Not to mention the presence of the male population in general and his in particular. He felt a sting of pain when he thought about that, but then chastized himself. She was eating dinner with him. She was, judging from her smell, still scared shitless, but she was eating dinner with him. And today he had even gotten a small smile out of her.

Three days after the incident in the woods, they had met for a small amount of time every day, always together with somebody else, and Logan savoured every moment. She was still jumpy around him, but she talked to him, looked at him and sat with him. And he was determined not to let this one chance slip through his fingers. He wanted to help her. And his first mission was to make her eat.
"Would you like something else?"

She frowned thoughtfully, and he admired how cute she looked when her nose scrunched up in thought. He caught himself gazing at her beautiful features and straightened up. Don't scare her, don't.
"Brownies," she said all of a sudden. "Can we make brownies, Logan?"

His face lit up at her excitement. She wanted to do something with him. And, even more important, she wanted to eat.
"Sure thing, baby." He bit his tongue as the last word slipped out and Marie flinched in her chair. Too close, too fast, stupid, he chastized himself. You'll scare her away.

She jumped up so abruptly her chair dropped to the ground. Logan cursed himself. Shit, shit, shit. There goes your chance, idiot.
"Uhh, Logan, maybe some other time, OK?" she blurted out, even more nervous than before.

"Sure," he answered quietly. As he saw her turn and head for the door, his shoulders slumped. Shit.

Marie opened her door, and slowly made her way down the hall. As she neared her aim, she slowed down, still unsure of whether to run or to actually knock. She lifted and dropped her hand repeatedly before she finally gathered her courage and knocked on Logan's door.

She heard the noise of his boots against the wood floor and licked her dry lips. Her heart was pounding wildly. Stop it, Marie. Nothing's gonna happen. You're safe. It's OK…She repeated her mantra until the door opened and Logan stood in front of her.

"Hey," she said, chewing her lip.

"Hey," he answered carefully, and she could read his concern in his eyes. "What's up, Marie?"

"Well, uhh, I thought maybe we could still…make the brownies? Because I'm kinda hungry."

She saw barely concealed joy rush over his features before he braced himself.
"Alright," he said. "Right now?"

She nodded and felt her heart calm down a little. Logan stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.
"OK, then let's wreak havoc in the kitchen, huh?" he smiled.

She smiled back a little, and silently they made their way down to the kitchen.

"Hmm. Smells good."
They leaned against the kitchen counters, sipping on cups of coffee, and waited for the brownies to cool down.

"Yeah. Can't we have some? I'm starving." For the first time in months, Marie admitted that to herself. She had ignored her body's demands and needs for a long time, wanting to exclude the feeling of pain and dirt, but as she thought about it now, she felt like she hadn't lived for months.

Logan smiled to himself as he saw her look at the brownies with watering mouth. They had silently cooked for some time, Marie seemingly gathering her thoughts, and he just stealing little glances at her, afraid that he might do something that would scare her off. But so far, things had gone reasonably well. Marie grabbed a knife. She cut off a large piece of the brown cake, licking her lips in anticipation. "Hmmm…ouch!" With a squeal, she dropped the hot brownie and licked her fingers. "It's hot."

Logan grinned. "That's what you get for being too greedy." He picked up the piece again and held it to her lips. "Don't want you to starve," he murmured as she took a bite, her lush lips attracting his gaze too easily. She was beautiful, even with the traces of misery on her features, the shy eyes, her nervous smell. She made him want to protect her, hold her, shield her forever, cover her with his body and never let anything harm her. A sigh escaped his lips as she licked some crumbs from her lower lip, and, sensing the sudden
tension between them, she dropped her gaze. But she didn't run.

Carefully, slowly, anxious not to startle her, he cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. "Marie…" he whispered, and she felt a shiver
run through her body, if it was of fear or attraction, she couldn't tell.

"I'm sorry I ran away from dinner," she said suddenly.

"It's OK," he told her gently. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know," she interrupted. "And I just…I want you to know that…I'm not afraid of *you*." She furrowed her brow painfully, struggling to find the right words. Letting out her feelings was hard, so hard, and it hurt, because it stirred other feelings she didn't want to face. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. But whenever I look at you, I see…it… again. I feel it again. I can't help it, Logan. I'm…I'm so sorry." A tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by a second.

Logan frowned painfully, but tried to hide how much it hurt. He had silently hoped everything would return to normal after some time, but now he knew this wasn't as easy as he had thought. This wasn't a matter of reason. It was far more difficult. Marie's version of hell wore his face, and the thought killed him. "I - I understand," he soothed as she continued to cry silently. "Don't cry Marie, please." He wiped her tears away.

"So sorry…" she whispered, "so sorry Logan."

"I understand. It's not your fault, shhh." And the worst thing was, he *did* understand now. It would never be like before. Never.

"No. Noooo!" Marie screamed. Logan jumped up from his bed and flung open his door. Shit, he thought. This had to be one of the worst nightmares so far, judging from her frantic scream and the smell of fear that hit him like a wave as he appoached her room. He wanted to help her, desperately.

"Marie?" he said quietly, softly, so as not to scare her even more, and knocked on the door. He heard her sob and cough inside, and opened the door just enough to peek in. He saw her in the bathroom and heard the telltale sounds of throwing up. God, it must've been bad. Shit. He stepped inside and took a few steps towards her. "Marie?" he called again.

Her head snapped up and she flinched, slamming into the bathroom wall as she backed up. Her eyes were wide and filled with horror as he stepped closer, and he realized that she was still caught up in her vision. Shit, shit, shit. "Marie, it's me. It's OK," he tried, but at the sound of his voice, she winced.

"Please don't. Don't do that again. Please," she begged.

He stepped back. "I won't do anything, Marie. It's OK."

She shook her head. "You're back to finish the job, right? Why're you lying to me? You want to hurt me even more, right?" Her voice grew louder and took on an angry and desperate tone. "So just go ahead and stop torturing me. Come on. Kill me."

Shaking and trembling all over, tears streaming down her face, her mad eyes locked with his, she approached him. He moved back.
"Marie, darling…"

But she just laughed, sadly and with an edge of insanity. "I'm not your darling. So why don't you just go through with this?"

He shook his head. "Not gonna hurt you Marie. Please…"

She sobbed. "Kill me. Please. Stop torturing me." He shook his head again. "Why not?" she screamed suddenly. She ran towards him and hit his chest with her fists. "Why not, why not, why not…" He let her beat him until she collapsed on the floor in a sobbing heap, then took her shoulders and shook her gently.

"Marie. Come on, look at me. It's over, nothing's gonna happen." She opened her heavy eyes and her blurry gaze met his.

"Yeah," she whispered. "It's over." And suddenly she shook off his hands, jumped up and ran out onto the balcony. Her hair and white nightgown fluttered in the wind. He watched in horror as she climbed up the railing. They were on the third floor.

"Marie!" he shouted, jumping up and racing towards her.

"You're not gonna hurt me again," she screamed. Then she fell.

"Noooo!" he roared.

He ran down the stairs faster than ever before, stumbling and falling and getting up again. Fasterfasterfaster…gotta find her…gotta help her…God, Marie… He flung open the door to the garden and ran across the lawn to the left wing of the house. Bushes and wood bruised his flesh, and it healed all over right away. But she wouldn't. Have to find her…have to…Marie…

He heard a low whimper and tore down leaves and twigs. And then he saw her. She was lying in the grass, surrounded by daisies. A green and white grave…no… Her alabaster face looked like that of an ancient statue, old and young at the same time, graced with eternal beauty. Her dark eyes looked up into the sky, and he saw that she smiled.

He dropped to his knees beside her and took her hand. Her eyes searched for him and found, and her smile deepened. "Logan," she whispered. "I got away." A lump in his throat choked him. Tears ran down his face but he didn't care. "You're crying," she whispered. "Why?"

"Because you're hurt," he managed to get out.

She smiled again. "No. I feel so good now. Nothing can hurt me now. I got away."

He sobbed even harder. "Marie, please, don't leave me." He cradled her in his arms carefully and smelled blood dripping out of a head wound. Beneath the skin of her neck, he felt the sharp ends of broken bones and knew that it was over. If she didn't let him help her. "Let me…let me heal you. Please."

"No," she whispered, her voice sounding faint, as if it was already coming from another world. "Don't…don't wanna be hurt again…don't wanna see it again…" Her voice trailed off. Behind them, Logan heard the sounds of the other x-men running towards them, Scott's "Oh my God", Jean's cry of pain, Ororo's gasp.

"Marie!" he shook her. "Baby, no. I wanted to tell you so many things. I love you. I'm so sorry. I should've protected you. God, Marie…"

One last time, she forced her eyes open. "L-logan…I'm O-oK n-now. Please…" her voice broke off and her head rolled to the side, and he roared with pain as he held his beloved in his arms. He had failed.

"No…no…" He rocked her gently as the others approached them. "Let me heal you baby. Please…"

Scott squeezed his shoulder. Jean sobbed. "It's over, Logan. Maybe it's better for her."

At that, Logan's pain changed into rage, his tears of grief into those of anger. "Better?" His voice grew louder. "Better? No. I won't let her go like this. There must be…I have to…" He broke off as he saw it was futile. Marie's mutation was off, he couldn't heal her. But then…"Jean!" The woman stopped sobbing and looked at him questioningly. "Turn the switch!"

She looked confused. Logan grabbed her by the collar and shook her angrily. "Turn the switch in her head." There she understood. It was a weak attempt, and it would probably fail. But they had to try. She closed her eyes and focused on Marie, and in the faint traces of the girl's mind that were left, she found the switch. Her eyes snapped open, and Logan didn't hesitate. He grabbed Marie's hands and brought his face to hers, touching as much skin as possible.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. His lips on her cheek, their fingers entwined, he cried against her cool skin. "Please…please…"
Then suddenly he felt the pull start. He held on until his conscience began to fade. With his last coherent thought, he poured into her what he wanted her to know the most. "I love you, baby. So sorry…"

She lifted her eyes from her lap to meet his face, and he read sadness, resignation and a hint of anger in her features. "You're awake," she said, and her voice mirrored what her eyes silently said.

He frowned. "Marie, are you alright?"

She clenched her lips. "Actually, no, I'm not." He could see tears well up in her eyes as she continued to speak. "Why couldn't you just let me go? Just - just as I found peace. Quiet. No images that haunt me wherever I go, whenever I close my eyes. Why do I have to suffer so much, Logan? Because you don't wanna lose me? God, I never thought you were that selfish." She jumped up. He was stunned. He had thought she had been suffering from her visions when she said she wanted to die. He had wanted to do right. And now he had failed again. "Thank you," she spat out as she turned on her heel and walked out. "It might not have been you who hurt me, but now you've done it. And you do it over and over again, because you put me through this hell every day. Again and again. You had to make me live for you, and I hate you for it."

With that, she stomped out and left him there, shaken, heartbroken, and miserable.

"Rogue, don't you want to talk to him? He's really miserable." Professor Xavier was torn between understanding for the young woman and compassion for Logan. He sighed. Everyone had hoped that the worst was over when Rogue had started to talk to Logan again, but now things were even worse. Of course Logan wasn't to blame - he had done what he thought was best. But as he saw Rogue, sitting on the chair in front of his desk, her face puffy from crying and her chest still heaving erratically from her frantic sobs, he understood her.

She had come to him this morning, after another night torn with nightmares, and had asked for his help. "Why couldn't he let me go?" she whispered.

The professor sighed again. "He wanted to save you. He thought…"

"I don't care what he thought," Rogue shouted. She was on the brink of tears again. "These dreams and recalls are too much. I feel like I'm going insane every time I feel it happen again. And it's so real. And as much as I struggle, I can never change it. I always lose." She was sobbing now. "Professor, can you imagine how much it hurts to lose, every day, every night, and never have a chance to escape?"

He shook his head. She got up. "That's what I thought."

Logan was sitting at the open window, staring out into the night. `I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.' Her voice was ringing in his ears, and it hurt more than anything had ever hurt before. He sighed. If Marie tried to kill herself again, would he save her? Or would he leave her to the fate she had inflicted on herself? No. He shook his head and clenched his fists. He couldn't let her die. He couldn't and he wouldn't.

She called him selfish for that. Was he? He turned the thought in his head. Yeah, it was partly true. He didn't want to be without her. His hope still wasn't entirely shattered. Or at least hadn't been until a few days ago, when she told him she hated him. He had still wished she would be Ok again, some day, if he just tried his best. Obviously, that hadn't been enough.

He groaned, angrily and frustrated. If he'd just…no, he couldn't have let her die. And it wasn't only selfishness. He would let her suck every bit of life out of him it she just lived on. Her life was more important to him than his own.

He heard a low cry coming from Marie's room and winced. He couldn't go there. But if she tried to kill herself again…? Jumping up, he crossed his room, but at the door he stopped again. He couldn't go there, no. Another frantic sob reached his ears, and he turned the doorknob, just to close the door again. He couldn't. Instead of walking over, he started pacing up and down his room. He listened to her crying, glad that she was still to be heard, even though she was coughing and sobbing. Silence would've been much worse.

Marie sat in the dark, her blanket wrapped around herself, forcing her sleepy eyes to stay open. She didn't want to sleep - she didn't want any more nightmares. Instead, she thought about Logan. She knew she had hurt him badly. A part of her wanted to see him hurt as much as herself, because it *was* his face that woke her in horror every night, it was him that had forced her back into a life she didn't want. But another part, a small, minor part at the back of her mind, the part that had and still loved Logan, wept as she thought about his sad face when she said she hated him.

She pressed her hands to her temples as the voices in her head whispered angrily. He's the reason you're hurting…No, he's not. He'd do anything to protect you…He's selfish. That's why he brought you back…He loves you. He can't let you go. For your own sake…Sake! There's no sake for you. Just pain. And he's the reason you suffer…No, he's not… "Stop," she whispered. She was so tired. She just wanted to sleep, one night, without nightmares. Sleep… Her head sunk to the side as the voices lowered down to a whisper, lulling her into slumber. Back into hell, where the voices were strong and she was slowly torn to pieces.
 

"Marie?" She jumped as she heard the familiar voice behind her. Her breath hitched, but she slowly sat down again and didn't turn. "Marie, please."

Her heart clenched in an odd mixture of sadness and gloating as she heard his miserable voice. "What?" Her first voice spat out, then she braced herself. "What is it, Logan?", a little softer.

She turned around because his presence in her back was making her feel uncomfortable and winced at the look in his eyes. The strong, powerful man she had known was gone. Left was only a desperate shadow of the mighty Wolverine, and she recognized the look in his eyes all too well. It was the look she saw in the mirror, every day. A look that told of failure, surrender and pain. "I…Can I ask you something?" he said.

She nodded silently. There was a long break, in which she just listened to her own heartbeat, his breath and the low noises of the wind outside.

Finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry…and not." She nodded. She knew. He was as split as she was. Ironic, she mused. At the worst point in our lives, I have to discover how perfect we are for each other. Sadly, there's no `we'. Never will be.

He continued. "But I want to make it better. Can I make it better for you?"

She laughed sadly. "The only thing it would get better is…change it. Make it turn out differently. Make it good and it'll be OK."

They looked at each other and both knew it was impossible. He got up and walked away. Once again, she was alone. And not. `There he goes, the jerk…He's not a jerk. He was the love of my life… Ha!' "Stop," she whispered once again, knowing it never would.

Marie was stretched out on her bed, fighting sleep, as she heard heavy boots come down the hall towards her room. She sighed and prepared herself for Logan. It was always easier for her to be prepared when he stepped in, because her initial reaction still was and probably always would be running and hiding until he was gone and her wildly pounding heart had calmed down.

He didn't even bother to knock. The door was flung open and slammed shut again, and, against her intention, she jumped. "What is it, Logan?" she asked cautiously. Somehow he looked different.

"I wasn't finished yet," he growled and she felt panic rise in her body, making her stiff and frozen in place.

"But-but there's nothing more to say. I can't…I can't tell you…" she stammered.

His evil grin shut her up. As he stepped closer and she moved back, she had the feeling of dejà-vu, and the thought made her breathing stop and her heart pound wildly. "I don't want to say anything," he smirked evilly, reaching out and catching her by the wrists.

"No," she whimpered, horrified. Then she tried to straighten up. She was in the mansion. This had to be another bad dream. But her rapidly bruising and hurting wrists told her it was just too true. "I'm gonna scream, " she threatened. He just laughed.

"Try." His iron grip on her wrists tightened and he pulled her off the bed and against the wall. "Remember the last time?" he growled. "It's gonna be even better." Suddenly, his eyes flashed yellow, just for a second, but it was there.

"No! You're dead," Marie cried as she realized it was Mystique. And she would hurt her…again. But this time, she'd fight back. Marie kicked and wriggled against the rough hands, but a hard slap stopped her resistance. As blood rushed down her throat, she felt her dejà-vu again. This time, her nightmare had become true again. "Nonononono…" she sobbed as the torture began. It was all too familiar, and the knowledge about what was to come intensified her pain and terror.

As before, her clothes were ripped off. As before, she was pushed to the ground, and as before, she fell hard and hurt her arm as she landed on the floor with a thud. As before, her legs were jerked apart, as before… her enemy was suddenly lifted into the air, and crashed into the closet. Marie looked up with blurry eyes, and saw two Logans standing in her room, one just unsheathing the claws.
"I thought I had killed you, but now I'm gonna make sure you rot in hell," he roared as he attacked his twin.

Quick like a flash, the other Logan disappeared, and instead a lithe blue body attacked Logan with a powerful kick. But Mystique had underestimated the other's rage. With a growl that made the walls shake, Logan aimed and rammed the claws into her chest, slicing her open from neck to navel. His other fist came up and found its aim. With a loud scream, Mystique lost her eyesight, and, caught up in her pain, was helpless against the last blows directed at her. She collapsed to her knees and with one swift movement, it was over.

Marie lay there, frozen, for several minutes, until she sat up and looked around in wonder. Her wide eyes inspected the head that had rolled to her feet, lifeless and without a thread now. This was what she had been afraid of for so long. Strange, now it looked so harmless. She heard a *snikt* and looked up. Logan. He was covered in blood that wasn't his own. He had fought for her, and he had won. He had protected her.

She blinked, then opened her eyes again, and it was as if she saw him for the first time. It was as if she was reborn. She stepped towards him and touched a stain of blood on his knuckle. "You changed it," she whispered, her voice full of wonder. She rubbed the red wetness between her fingers, expecting it to disappear, to be another vision, but it stayed. It stayed and dyed her pale hand red. "You made it turn out differently." Her eyes searched for his. "Logan," she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, they were tears of relief.

She collapsed against him and he opened his arms to embrace her tightly. As she sobbed openly, soaking his shirt, he stroked her hair and breathed in her smell. He could see the light. Maybe they would get out of the tunnel yet.

She broke away from him. "Can you…can you turn it around all the way?"

He looked at her questioningly. "What do you mean, Marie?"

She forced air into her suddenly tight chest. It's right. Just say it. It'll be OK, one voice said. The other remained oddly silent. "Make love to me, Logan."

He looked at her, concerned and a little insecurely. "Marie…"

She shut him up. "Shhh…" Her soft fingers traced his lips. "Don't ask if I'm sure. Don't ask if I'm ready. I am. Just do it." She looked into his eyes. "That is, if you want to," she added shyly.

Instead of an answer, he kissed her. After a few seconds of hesitation, she melted into his touch and opened her lips to the gentle invasion of his tongue. Logan felt like going insane with desire and concern at the same time. He hadn't dared to hope for something like this any more, but now that it was there, he was scared, for the first time in his life. There was so much that could still go wrong.
"Marie, baby," he broke the kiss. "If you change your mind, you can say stop. Any time."

She nodded, then snuggled against him for another deep kiss. She could say stop…finally she could say stop. "Stop," she whispered, just to see if the incredible was working, and he broke off immediately and looked at her, his face full of anxiety and tenderness.

She smiled at him and kissed him again, and soon felt his hands caress her body, soothing where it had hurt, gentle where there had been roughness.

After a while, he laid her down on the bed gently, and started to take off her clothes, not ripping them, no, she smiled to herself. As in her dreams, she saw Logan's face hover above her, but besides the general features the man that was pouring his love and devotion into her with his tender touch had nothing in common with the face of her nightmares. But as she tried to recall it, to see and compare, she noticed that she couldn't. All she could see and feel was what he was giving her, pleasure that started in her skin and went deep inside to the bottom of her soul.

Before long she was writhing underneath him, not in fear, but in ecstasy. She moaned and panted as he pampered her with kisses and caresses from her neck down her breasts to the junction between her thighs. There, at the base of her most intimate pleasure, a throbbing heat built up until she was thinking she'd burst out of her skin. "Logan," she moaned, her eyes never leaving the face above her. She needed to see him, needed to erase every memory, replace it with its sweet complement.

On the brink of ecstasy, she pulled him close, wanting to feel him, all the way, in and out, but he stopped. He caressed her cheek. "I love you, Marie. I just wanted you to know that before…"

She smiled, but couldn't help the tear flowing down her cheek. "Help me. Make me love you again, Logan. Turn it around."

He nodded, then slowly entered her. She gasped as she felt the last wall of cold fear crashing down and Logan's warmth flooding her. As he dropped his mouth to hers again, she let the feelings wash over her, finally giving up any fight, coming to the end of the tunnel after months in the dark.

Epilogue:

They stood in the dim room, their hands entwined, and looked down at the sleeping girl. Marie leaned against Logan for support, and he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "Come on, let me bring you back to bed. You shouldn't be up yet anyway," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

She let him lift her up deliberately, shooting a last loving look at her little daughter. "So this is where it all ends," she mused quietly.

He shook his head. "No, baby, this is where it all starts."

She looked at him, then down at the baby, and truly felt a new life opening up in front of her. A new door she could step through. She closed her eyes and let Logan's voice peacefully lull her into sleep.