Title: My Weakness

Author: m.jules

Summary:  Logan habitually falls in love with women who are in love with other men.  Why?  And how would he react to someone madly in love with him?
Disclaimer: Not mine…although if Marvel/Fox ever read this, they’d fer sure not claim ‘em for theirs, either.

Warning: Warped timeline and canon-twisting ahead.  (If Bryan Singer can do it, I can too.)  You’ll see I’ve incorporated elements from comics, cartoons, and movie and messed them all up.  Roll with it.  J

Thank-You:  Special thank-you goes to Southern Comfort, a Rogue site that provided me with a marvelous soundfile from the original cartoon series.  If you can’t recognize it, don’t worry; I put it at the end of the story.  Also to the original cartoon episode “Nightcrawler” which made me realize that Rogue and Logan belong together in every X-Men universe.

 

xXxXx

 

There’s a song that was out on the radio a couple of years ago – Jubilee tells me it was more like a couple of decades, but how’m I s’posed to keep up with time passing? – about how this guy wants his best friend’s girlfriend.  I had a love-hate relationship with that song, because I knew exactly how he felt and I hated feeling that way.

 

I have a habit of falling for women that are already in love.  Some people say it’s because they’re inaccessible and I love the thrill of the chase.  Not true.  Well, it’s not the main reason anyway.  Jubilee postulated that it’s because they’re “safe” – that I’m afraid of commitment, and there’s not much chance a taken woman would get attached to me.  I pointed out to her that that’s wrong on so many levels, I don’t know where to start.  First of all, married women aren’t at all immune to me.  Second, I’m honor-bound to far too many people (Chuck, Rogue, Akiko, even Jubes) that if I had a phobia of commitment, it’d damn well better be cured by now.  At a loss, Jubilee gave up trying to psychoanalyze me.  It was just as well – I knew why anyway.

 

At first I didn’t know.  When I fell in love with Heather Hudson, I thought it was for any number of reasons, not the least of which was that she and her husband had saved my life.  My human life, at least: if not for them, I might still be running around naked in the snow, eating raw meat off my claws.  It would have been hard not to love them both.  But my feelings for Heather drove me away before I could ruin the lives of the only two people who cared about me.

 

The next one was Mariko, and that might have actually worked had the “let’s-fuck-up-Logan’s-life” gods not decided to have her poisoned.  In the end, she begged me to end her suffering… and I did, promising to care for her daughter, Akiko, as my own.  Jubilee helpfully pointed out that this seemed to be the exception – until I revealed that M’iko had still been in mourning for her late husband when I’d met and fallen in love with her, so, in effect, she was in love with another man.

 

We all know about Jean, and nobody in the room is going there tonight, especially since Scott and Jean’s wedding is what got us started on this little post-reception celebration.  “Us” meaning precisely me, Jubes, and Rogue.  Jubilee’s been special to me ever since she rescued us both in Australia, and Rogue has me in her head, so she knows everything anyway.  In short, I’m comfortable enough with both of them to talk out some of the tangled mess that is my psyche.  I’m sure the vodka has something to do with that…in fact, we probably shouldn’t be drinking at all.  Rogue’s the only one on whom it has a non-annoying effect – she gets really, really quiet.  Jubes gets horny, and I decide I need to spill my guts about my romantic past.

 

I think Jubilee was the only one for whom the Stolichnaya didn’t act as a behavior modifier…just enhancer.

“I don’t know, Wolvmeister,” she slurs now, draping herself over my shoulder as Rogue watches silently from across the room.  “I think you’re on your own figurin’ this one out.”  She turns to Rogue, hiccups, and says very carefully, “C’mon, chica.  I’m goin’ to bed.”

 

“I’ll be up in a little while,” Rogue answers in a low voice.  I look at her, kinda surprised at her clear speech and even clearer eyes.  The empty beer bottles and shot glasses around her chair testify to the fact that she’s been keeping up with me on this little drinking adventure, but as far as sobriety goes, I think she might have me beat.

 

Jubilee shrugs eloquently and turns to leave, stumbling over the edge of the rug.

 

“Need help?” I ask her. 

 

She shakes her head and waves me off.  “No need, Wolvie-baby,” she giggles.  “If I need help, I’ll go lasso the new guy…he’s yummy.”

 

I shake my head and stare into the colorless liquid filling half of my latest shot glass.  “That Cajun’s no good for you, Jubilation,” I tell her for the thousandth time as I hear her thumping up the stairs to her room, stumbling every now and then.  I wince at a particularly loud crash, and Rogue smiles enigmatically as Jubilee shouts loud enough to wake up the entire mansion, “I’m okay!”

 

Rogue and I share a wry grin and a few moments of comfortable silence, listening for any more sounds from our inebriated friend.  Fortunately, none are forthcoming, and we can relax.

 

“You headin’ to bed soon, Sugar?” she asks me, still in that damn sexy sotto voce that’s only made even sexier by her Southern drawl.  Fuck.  Maybe the vodka’s making me horny too.  It’s no secret that Rogue is as sexy as they get – I sometimes secretly wonder if that’s not the secret weapon she pulls out to defeat the bad guys: distraction – but we’re friends.  Good friends.  I saved her life back when she was a kid, she’s returned the favor once or twice, and we’re drinking buddies.  But she got over her initial crush and I started thinking of her as something more than a sister, less than a lover. 

She’s more like…oh hell, I don’t know…a partner, an equal, the only person who really knows me.  The keeper of my sanity, maybe.  But sex has never entered the equation…and it certainly isn’t going to start now, liquor or no.

 

She chuckles softly, drawing my attention back to the present.  “Or maybe you’ve already gone to bed…sleepin’ sittin’ up with your eyes open.  Wouldn’t surprise me; even drunk you’re on your guard.”

 

I blink a couple of times just to remind my brain that, no matter how much alcohol I’ve ingested, it’s supposed to be able to function for itself.  Here’s a tip, Logan: never drink more than your healing factor can keep up with.

 

“Yeah, I’m kinda worn out, I guess,” I answer gruffly.  I snort.  “Headshrinkin’ gets tirin’ sometimes.”

She nods wisely, her eyes falling closed as she leans her head back against the back of the seat.  “Your head can’t afford to be shrunk much more,” she teases me gently.  “They’ll start tryin’ to prosecute me ‘n Jubes for practicin’ without a license.”

 

My mind chooses that moment to remember the rest of her comment.  “And I am not drunk.”

 

She just grins at me without opening her eyes.  “Of course you’re not.”

I have no answer for that, so I toss back the rest of my vodka and set the shot glass on the little table beside my chair and get up to leave the library.  “I think I’ll go fall asleep in my bed,” I tell her, and she nods, pursing her lips but remaining silent.  “One good thing about vodka – I might sleep through the night.  Or at least the coupla hours before my healing factor kicks in.”

 

A little smile quirks the edge of her mouth and she finally opens her eyes to look at me.  “Why else d’ya think I drink it?” she purrs.  She straightens up and looks around at the mess we’ve made.  “I think I’m headin’ the same way, just as soon as I clean up after us.”

 

“Nah,” I tell her.  “Leave it for Popsicle Boy.  He’ll get a kick outta frostin’ the bottles.”

 

“Mmm,” she comments.  “Maybe I’ll just take care of it tomorrow.”

 

“Come on,” I tell her, offering my hand.  “I’ll walk you up to your room.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Sugar,” she manages around a yawn.  “You go crash; I think I can make it.”

I nod, grabbing her hand anyway to give it a good-night squeeze.  She rewards me with a soft half-smile and a return squeeze.  “Night,” I mutter as I head up to my room, my hand still tingling slightly from the contact.

 

I think that’ll be the last time I buy Stolichnaya.  From here on out, I’m stickin’ to brands that don’t make me think I’m getting the warm fuzzies from touchin’ Rogue – maybe Skyy.

 

Damn sissy stuff.

 

***

No matter what anyone says, I’ve always been very supportive of Rogue’s and Jubilee’s relationships.  Oh sure, I’ve teased ‘em, threatened their boyfriends’ lives, and played a few pranks on ‘em (never let it be said I didn’t learn anything from my friendship with Jubilee) but I’ve never actually tried to break ‘em up or anything like that.  Even when they were double-dating those pansy-assed Bobby and St. John characters, I bought ‘em condoms.  ‘Course, that was partly because I was pretty damn sure they’d never use ‘em, and I was right.

 

(Drake and Allerdyce will be sharin’ a room for years to come…and it won’t be to cut down on rent.  I believe my exact words to Jubilee were, “Your boyfriend’s a flamin’ somethin’, darlin’, but it ain’t what you think.”  First and last time Jubie ever tried to deck me…fireworks and all.)

 

But this is too much for me.  For months, nobody was showin’ up on the radar for either one of ‘em (yeah, Jubes talked about that LeBeau dick all the time, no pun intended, but we all knew it was just Jubie bein’ herself, nothin’ serious) and then, Rogue’s all over that red-eyed, red-haired freak all of a sudden like I don’t know what.  And of course, he’s all over her right back.  (I don’t know a single straight guy on the team who wouldn’t be, deadly skin notwithstanding.  Hell, I think even Scooter’s had his thoughts from time to time.)

 

But here’s the kicker – when she looks at him, her eyes sort of… glow.  I’ve never seen Rogue like that, and I don’t think anyone else has either.  She looks happy when he puts his arm around her, and she laughs low and sexy in her throat when he whispers in her ear.  I should be happy for her – hell, I am happy for her.  It’s been a few years since she’s been interested in anybody, and I’m glad to see her goin’ around all the time with her face all lit up.

 

But somethin’ don’t sit right with me, all the same.  Maybe it’s that the Cajun constantly smells like lyin’…but I try to give him the benefit of the doubt on that one.  If I remembered my past, I’d probably be tryin’ to hide it from everybody too.  Maybe it’s the way he looks at her, with this little hint of guilt, or the way he gropes her.  I’ve never seen him touch her like she was precious…only like he thought she was his own personal grapefruit to squeeze.

 

Rogue deserves better.  But her eyes are happy, her face is happy, even her scent is happy most of the time, although every now and then I catch a whiff of sadness, of longing.  I guess it’s because she can’t really touch him; I’ve seen her kissing her gloved fingertips and pressing them to his lips…and nearly gutted the bastard right then and there when he didn’t do it back.

 

But the point is, Rogue, possibly my best friend, is happy.  And I’m happy for her.  If I can just convince myself that this won’t be like all the other times…that this time is different.  I won’t fall for her just because she’s finally got someone.  And if Jubilee starts pullin’ out all the territorial bullshit on me, I’m sendin’ her to her room.  No, Rogue’s case makes my point for me: the real reason I fall in love with taken women is because of the way they look and act.

 

A woman in love, properly loved back, is beautiful because she feels beautiful.  She projects a steady confidence and the knowledge that she is desirable…because she knows she is desired.  But most of all, it’s the contentment in her eyes and the knowledge that she is somebody’s home…the calm she projects because she knows she’s the steadying anchor, the safe haven.

 

I think it’s the calm that gets me most of all…maybe because I don’t have it.  I’ve seen women who knew they were beautiful and desirable, and sure I was attracted, but they didn’t have the soul-deep pull that a peaceful woman has on me.  (Come to think of it, that’s probably why I fell for M’iko in the first place—Japanese women are the definition of peaceful.)

 

Now, peaceful ain’t a word I’d ever use to describe Rogue, aside from the unnatural calm that comes over her when she’s either drunk or in deep shock, but ever since I played chaperone to her and Gumbo on our ski-trip-turned-rescue-mission, she’s been getting quieter, and I ain’t stickin’ around to see what happens.  See, the minute I start pullin’ my love-lorn shit with her, the whole mansion’ll go into an uproar. 

 

Nobody comments on my thing for Jeannie anymore, mainly ‘cause that’s been there from day one and everybody’s got their own theory about why.  (Yankin’ Scooter’s chain and just bein’ damn attracted to her are the main ones, and I can’t say they ain’t valid.)  But if I suddenly started givin’ Rogue those puppy-dog eyes from across a room or growlin’ at her little Cajun boyfriend, I don’t even wanna think about what kinda rumors would get started.

 

So with the flimsiest excuse I can find, I’m packin’ my bags and headin’ out.  Jubilee asks if she can come along, and I can’t find any damn reason to say no.  The company’ll be nice, and maybe keep me from broodin’ over Rogue the whole damn time.  We’re plannin’ on headin’ out first thing in the mornin’, just as soon as the sun’s up.

 

And wouldn’tcha know it; I wake up to find the little rogue standin’ just inside my closed door, watchin’ me.  Sometimes she really lives up to her nickname.  I glance at the clock, and can see that it’s 4:33 AM.  I got at least another hour before we’re on the road…

 

“Mmph.”  I’m the best at what I do, but what I do don’t include wakin’ up at the ass-crack of dawn.

”I know why you’re leaving.”

 

“Scuse me?”

She smiles, sort of sad, but her eyes are coldly honest, demanding, and even a little accusing.  “I know why you’re goin’.  I know what it is.”  She pauses, and there’s a sudden surge of sadness in her scent.  “I know you.”

 

She comes over and kisses my forehead through a section of her hair that she lets fall over my face.  “Don’t stay gone too long, okay?”

I nod.  That’s all I can do.  And before I know it, she’s gone.  Just like that.  I’m sure she must’ve opened the door and gone through it, unless she’s been playing gloveless tag with Shadowcat or Nightcrawler, but I didn’t see it.  Maybe because I closed my eyes when she kissed me and never opened them again.

 

Dammit.  Sometimes I forget just how much she does know me.

 

***

 

“If you like married women so much, how come you never steal them?”

 

Sometimes, as much as I love the kid, I’m tempted to throw Jubilee out the window.  She talks.  A lot.  And asks really nosy questions.  “Whaddya mean, kid?”

 

“I mean, I know Jean would probably be up for a roll in the hay with you any time – well, maybe not until the newness of being married wears off and all – and God knows there’s a lot of other women out there who’d forget they’d ever seen their wedding band if you came after them.”

 

“True.”

”So why don’t you?”

 

“Because they’re not beautiful anymore after that.”

 

“How come?”

 

I shake my head.  “It’s hard to explain kid.” 

She thinks about it real hard for a second, snapping her bubblegum so loud I nearly flinch.  I should be used to that by now.  “Oh, I get it.”

 

“What do you get?”

”It’s the commitment, the dedication.  You fall in love with them because they’re in love with someone else, and if they betrayed that loyalty, they’d lose the attraction.”

 

“Bingo.”

”Is that why you’re runnin’ from Rogue?”

”Scuse me?”  Where have I said that recently?  Oh, right; this morning.  Damn these two; I think they’re conspiring against me.  So much for not broodin’ over Marie on this trip.

 

“I mean…you’ve been all great about everything lately, not like, wanderin’ all over the country like normal or anything.  You’ve been acting pretty…I d’know, y’know, happy.”

”Yeah?”

”Yeah.  And then all out of nowhere, Rogue gets totally into this Remy thing, and you’re all, ‘Oh hey, I’m goin’ on a roadtrip, wanna come?’”

”I never invited you to come, Firecracker.  You invited yourself.”

”Whatever.  Anyway, you get my point.  Are you runnin’ ‘cause you’re in love with her now, or ‘cause you’re afraid you will be?”

Did I mention how much I hate Jubilee’s questions?  I hate ‘em even more when I can’t answer them.

 

“Not sure, kid.  I just ain’t sure.”

***

 

I knock on the door to her hotel room just in time to hear her hang up the phone.  “Who ya callin’, kid?” I ask when she opens the door.

”Just checkin’ in with some girls I used to know around here,” she answers casually, popping her gum.  “You ready for lunch?  I’m starved.”

I grin at her.  “How can you be hungry?  You ate a whole pint of ice cream just thirty minutes ago.”

 

“That was a whole thirty minutes ago, Wolvie!” she wails.  “And only an itty bitty pint of B&J.  I need some food.”

 

“All right, kid; come on.”

***

”Hey, Wolvmeister, you gonna be all right on your own for the evenin’?  I got some old amigas nearby that wanna see me.  Think you can handle it?”

 

I grin at her.  “I think I got it covered, Jubes.  Have fun, be careful.”

 

“Not a problem, Wolvie.  Oh—and I called in a little surprise for you.  Hope you enjoy it!”  She grins at me and waves as she walks out to the Jeep that’s just pulled up with two or three wildly giggling girls inside.  (My uncertainty on the number ain’t because I can’t count, but because I ain’t sure one of ‘em was originally a girl, if you get my meanin’.)  That kid’s got some weird friends.

 

I settle in on the bed to watch some TV and hopefully keep my mind off Rogue.  I’ve been doin’ a pretty good job so far, if I do say so myself.  I managed to make it all the way through lunch and only thought about Rogue once.  How on earth did they manage to hire a Southern waitress in a little diner in northern Connecticut?

 

< “Sugah?”

 

I don’t think I could’ve jumped any higher if a shotgun had gone off right next to my ear.  “Excuse me?”

 

“Sorry, sir; Ah was only askin’ if your friend here wanted sugah for her tea.  Ah didn’t mean ta startle ya.”

 

“No harm; just caught me off-guard.”>

 

Rogue’s happy, I tell myself firmly.  Let her be happy without you interferin’, Wolverine.  Although, now that I think about it, she’s been kinda sad the last coupla weeks...  I punch the channel button on the remote moodily as I think about it.  Why wasn’t she totally happy?  She deserves that at least, skin or no.  Maybe that Gumball will come around eventually and stop bein’ scared of it.  She’s scared enough of it for both of ‘em.

 

Ah well, no use worryin’ over it now.  Rogue’s a big girl; she can take care of herself.  Or so she keeps tellin’ me, and I have to say I’m inclined to believe her after all the times she’s kicked my ass in the Danger Room.  Those damn acquired powers of hers give her an unfair advantage – I tell her sometimes that it just ain’t fair to be pullin’ in another mutant for reinforcements, but I always feel bad for it when she gets that hard look of regret in her eyes.  That whole damn Carol thing really wasn’t her fault -- Mystique had some weird mind-control shit goin’ on, and I remember enough of my Weapon X time to sympathize with her on that one.  Wolvie with a remote control option ain’t good for nobody.

 

Damn.  So much for not thinkin’ about Rogue.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say I really was in love with her, Remy or no.

 

I turn the TV off and get up, frustrated.  I have the vague thought of maybe treating myself to a shower, or calling some Japanese restaurant for take-out, but there’s a knock on the door before I can get around to either one.  I’m too far away to smell whoever’s outside, although it’s a sign of my distraction that I didn’t hear them come up.

 

I glance at the clock – it’s only been about an hour since Jubes left, so it probably ain’t her.  I walk a little closer to the door and take a long sniff.  There’s someone out there, all right, but the scent is masked by the strong – and tantalizing – aroma of sushi and steak.  Figuring anybody who comes bearing food probably ain’t too bad, and thinkin’ that Jubie’s surprise was that she ordered dinner for me before she left, I swing open the door without a second thought.

 

“Hey, Sugar.  You up for dinner?”

 

“Rogue--?”

 

“The one and only!  If you’ll just…step aside for a moment, hon, it’d make it a lot easier to get this stuff through the door…”

 

I step back to let her in, finally coming to my senses enough to grab one of the bags from her and set it down on the little table by the window.  “What are you doin’ here, kid?”

 

She turns around and gives me that smile – the lowered-lashes, mischievous-pout seductive one that she uses when she’s trying to get one of the bad guys off his guard.  Usually works, too.  “What, aren’t ya happy to see me, Sugar?”

 

“’Course I am, but…why?”

 

“Jubilee called and told me you’d be havin’ dinner all by your lonesome tonight since she’s out with some friends, and thought you might need a little company.”  She tosses a pair of chopsticks at me as she reaches in to one of the little white paper bags and starts pulling out food.

 

“What’s all this?”

”Those’re chopsticks, Sugar,” she giggles.  “Next best thing to eatin’ with your fingers.”  She plops a little container down and opens it, letting the steam waft up to her nose.  “Mmm.  And this is a little lo mein, for me.  I like my Chinese food, y’know, but I ain’t quite made it all the way east to Japan yet.  I figured I’d try some of yours, but I brought some for me just in case.”

 

I shake my head, carefully placing the chopsticks down on the table and helping her take the food out of the bag. 

”What are you doing here?”  I know I’ve asked her twice already, but I just can’t wrap my mind around it.  Shouldn’t she be back home getting all cozy with Remy?

 

She arches an eyebrow at me and crumples up the paper bags to throw them away, tossing a couple of fortune cookies onto the table.  “You keep askin’ me that and I’ll start thinkin’ you don’t like my company,” she says with the slightest air of offense.  “I wanted to come have dinner with ya, like we normally do every Tuesday night, but if you’d rather not see me I can fly back home, no problem.”

 

“No, it’s not that…it’s just…” I stop, growling, and get out part of what I want to say.  “I thought you had a soft spot for that…Cajun.”

 

She snorts.  “’Bout as soft as you, fathead.  Now, are you gonna shut up, or am I gonna hafta help you?”  And with that, she holds a piece of sushi up to my lips with her fingers.  I open my mouth automatically and she pops it inside, grinning at me.  She wipes her gloves off on her jeans and sits down with her food.  We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes, stealing food from each other and just generally teasing.  The thought hits me as I feed her a piece of steak with my chopsticks: Shit.  I’m an idiot – I think I’ve been in love with her for years.

 

“So really,” I ask her around a mouthful of lo mein that she fed me.  “Why did you come?”

She swallows her bite of steak and pokes a little at her sushi with the chopsticks.  “Well, my original plan didn’t work out like I thought, although Jubie did say it got you to thinkin’ about me a lot, so I decided I’d just scrap all the game-playin’ and go for the direct approach.”

 

“Whaddya mean?”  I can feel heat rising in my chest, and if I don’t watch it, my breathin’s gonna get off soon.

 

She stops, giving me the “get serious” look with just a little added flirtation, and my pulse triple-times.  “I mean, O Brilliant One,” she says with slow, careful enunciation to make sure I catch all of this.  I’m glad; I don’t want to miss anything here, and the way my blood’s roaring in my ears, I think I might.  “That I know you, remember?  I understand you.  I get you.”

 

I nod.  Yes, this we know.  This is old news.

 

She smirks.  “So I decided that I didn’t just want to get you…I want to have you.  And I knew just the way to do it.”  She begins deconstructing the sushi, peeling off the little layer of seaweed, and I can tell that – despite her cockiness, she’s a little nervous.  She always plays with her food when she gets nervous.  She sighs.  “Remy ’n I… we just, we ain’t cut out for each other.  I suspected it for awhile, but…well, he wanted me, y’know?”  Her eyes flicker up for a moment and a light pink rises to stain her cheeks.

 

I’m smitten.  “Who wouldn’t want you, darlin’?”

 

Her blush darkens and she ducks her head again.  “Thanks, sugar.  Anyway, it was in Paris.  Y’know, that time we all went skiin’ and ended up burnin’ down a monastery tryin’ ta save Nightcrawler?”

 

I nod.  I remember.  I especially remember, after we left the monastery and went on to Paris, readin’ that part of the Bible Kurt had marked for me.  It meant a lot to me that he understood me that well…

 

“Well, when we got to Paris, me an’ Remy had a fight.  A big one.  He said the monks were just stupid an’ I…I couldn’t think that, Logan.  They meant a lot to me, an’ I think they really had somethin’.  Their peace, their acceptance…ya know?”

 

I do know.  I wonder momentarily how much of her craving for peace is her own…and how much is due to me bein’ in her head.  Thinking about it, I realize this is one thing Rogue and I would probably share even if she’d never absorbed me.  The thought is strangely comforting.

 

“Well, ever since Paris, I knew it couldn’t last much longer between me an’ Gambit.  I didn’t want to admit it, ‘cause it’s so nice to just have somebody, but there was you, and…”  She falls silent, flicking the little pieces of rice away from her sushi.

”What about me?” I prompt after she is quiet for long moments.  She looks up at me with fear and pleading in her eyes.  The food is forgotten, and I reach over the table to take her gloved hands in mine. 

 

“I heard you,” she whispers.  “I knew you understood, about the monks, and everythin’…and when I heard you readin’ that, I thought…I dunno, I thought maybe it wouldn’t be too much to ask to have someone who knew me like I knew them.”

 

It takes me a second to catch up with her here.  She heard me readin’?  Musta been the Bible verses Kurt had marked for me…when I was in that cathedral in Paris, readin’ ‘em out loud…real nice verses too, ‘bout how God had decided not to be mad at me anymore.  I liked ‘em.  I liked ‘em a lot. 

 

But Rogue wasn’t there…although now that I think about it, I think I remember smellin’ her on the door when I left.  Makes sense…if she had a fight with Remy, she probably took a walk to cool off, walked into the church and heard me.  Well that explains that…but what do we do with this information?  I always thought we understood each other…and what’s that got to do with her and Gambit?

 

“I tried bein’ peaceful, y’know…I don’t know if I tried it more for me or you, Logan, but every time I got there, to that real quiet place, I’d think, ‘Logan would like this.’  I think it bothered Remy, how quiet I’d gotten…scared him.  I think he’s scared of the quiet, ‘cause then he can hear himself think.”

 

I nod.  Sounds like a fair assessment…like I said, the Cajun smells like lyin’.  He’s hidin’ somethin’ about his past, and if that’s so, he probably don’t want to slow down long enough to remember what.

 

“I realized that I was in love with you, Logan, and I thought maybe…maybe if you’d notice me bein’ all content, happy, and in-love, it might…well, you know.  It might make you…like me.  Like that, I mean.  I forgot it’d probably make you run away.”

 

I know she really needs me to say something.  I know it even before her sweet little voice pleads with me to do exactly that.  The problem is, I can’t think of what to say.  What do I say to that?  I ain’t real big on emotional displays, which is exactly what that little speech set me up for, but she deserves to know that I love her.

 

“Are you sayin’ you didn’t want me to run away?”

 

“Not from me,” she says quietly.  “Never from me.”

 

“Not even if it was just ‘cause I couldn’t stand lookin’ at you every day, knowin’ you weren’t mine?”

 

Her head snaps up now, her eyes flashing to mine.  “Don’t fuck with me, Logan,” she warns.  “Don’t say things just ‘cause you think I wanna hear ‘em.”

 

“Darlin’, have I ever told you anything you wanted to hear?”

 

“Just now you did.”

 

I grin at her.  “Then maybe you’ll like this a little less and won’t accuse me of lyin’ to ya: I love you.  Have for awhile now, although I didn’t know it.” 

Her eyes search mine for endless moments, and I know she’s running through my memories, my personality, searching for a precedent.  Searching for one time I didn’t mean it when I told a woman I loved her.  I’m already smilin’ ‘cause I know she won’t find one.

 

“You mean that?”  But that’s Rogue for ya – has to be sure.

 

“Yes.  I do.”

She leaps across the table at me, tackling me and sending us both flying to the floor.  It amazes me that even at moments like this, she’s careful to keep her bare skin away from mine.  Even more amazing is the fact that all the food is still on the table despite her flying leap. 

 

“Well, you’d better, ‘cause I’m holdin’ ya to that one!”

 

I grin at her and then do something I’ve wanted to do ever since that damned Gumbo didn’t.  Regretting not having gloves on myself, I catch her gloved hand in mine and kiss her fingertips reverently.  Her eyes open wide as I turn her hand back and place her kissed fingers against her lips.

”You won’t have to hold me to it, darlin’.  But I won’t mind if ya try.”

 

When Jubilee opens the door an hour and a half later, it’s to find us in a tangled mess of carefully arranged sheets on the bed, enjoyin’ bein’ near each other.  I’ve never thought of myself as a cuddler before, but the contentment that exists between us at this moment hasn’t ever been part of the picture before either.  It’s somethin’ special, almost sacred…has to be for even Jubilee to quietly close the door without one of her trademark comments -- although I do think I heard her chanting, “Yes, yes, yes!” all the way back to her room.  I’ll hafta take care of that smugness later…I got better things to do now.  Like holding Rogue.

 

Rogue closes her eyes and sighs deeply, snuggling deeper into my arms, and I hold her as closely as I can, burying my face in her hair.  She smells wonderful, and I’m trying to figure out exactly how long I’ve wanted to do this.  I’m not having much luck; I keep getting distracted.

 

So this is what it’s like to finally be on the inside lookin’ out, all wrapped up in warmth and devotion…understanding and quiet peace.  I didn’t realize how much I’ve been wantin’ this…didn’t really think I’d ever have it.  Who’d’ve thought?  The two most volatile mutants on the team findin’ peace in each other’s arms.  It’s enough to make a guy think those monks mighta been right about there bein’ a God…

 

“I’m happy, Logan,” she says softly after a moment, her arms securely around my waist.  “I can’t remember bein’ this happy before.”

 

“Me neither, darlin’,” I tell her, kissing her hair.  “Me neither.”

 

xXxXxXx

 

THE END

 

Author’s Notes:  The “ski-trip-turned-rescue-mission” and the time in Paris referred to are in the episode “Nightcrawler” from the original cartoon series that now plays on ABC Family 10 AM Saturdays. 

 

The quote borrowed from the series (although not that episode) is as follows and can be found at Southern Comfort:

 

Wolverine: I thought you had a soft spot for that…Cajun.

Rogue:  ‘Bout as soft as you, fathead.  Now are you gonna shut up, or am I gonna hafta help you?

 

See?  They even belong together in the cartoon!