xp_logs | Logan and Marie: Saturday Night

After Marie's talk with Doug, she rushes upstairs.

Marie tried not to run up the stairs when she got in the door but her feet had other plans and she almost flew up the first flight, pulling off her coat. She thought she was going to her room and it was only when she was on her way to the third floor that she realized it wasn't where she was headed. She didn't stop and knock on Logan's door when she got there. She fumbled for its handle and threw her weight against it. It swung open and she all but fell into the room, her tear-stained face pale and her heart slamming in her chest.

Logan was pulling a katana from his closet when he heard his door handle shimmy; he stood, sword out and ready, then dropped it as soon as Marie stumbled in. "Marie?" He stepped toward her, katana clattering to the floor.

She dropped her coat and put her back to the door, closing it and leaning against it for support, pressed hard against the wood. She stared at him for a long moment and then spoke in a broken voice. "Why did you do it to me?"

Logan paled. He took half a step toward her, then stopped. "What'd I do?" He couldn't think of anything he'd done recently to make her act like this.

"Did I not... matter? Was it just... was I invisible?" The words came out like pieces of glass. "Was it just... me? Tell me so I know, because I can't go on not knowing why."

"You're not. What." He stumbled over answers and questions, not knowing what to say. He took a breath to calm himself and got a nose full of upset Marie. "Marie, what happened? What'd I do?"

She laughed, sharp and bitter, and put a hand over her mouth to stifle it until she could speak instead. "It's over for you, isn't it? Gone. And here I am letting it eat at me every day." She closed her eyes and threw her head back hard against the door. "I'm such a fool."

Suddenly, it clicked. There was really only one thing he'd done that would have her this upset. "Marie, I'm sorry. I never meant. I didn't." He couldn't figure out what to say, so he took another step toward her, uncertain.

She held a hand out, warding him off. "Didn't what?" She tried not to start crying, to at least keep talking through her tears. "Didn't mean to show me what I'm worth quite that way? Didn't mean to show me the truth? I should be grateful to both of you for keeping me from finding out from someone who /didn't/ love me that /no one/ will ever want me. I can't imagine what it would have been like coming from someone else. I just want to know /why/, damn it..." She knew she was being too loud, on the verge of shouting at him, and couldn't make herself care enough to keep it quiet any more.

"You're. I." He took a breath, choking on her scent. Angry. He could almost hate himself for how that made him feel. /No one will ever want me. No one will ever. No one./ "You're wrong." He ignored her hand warding him off and stepped forward, quickly tipping his head down to brush his lips over hers.

She put both her hands in the middle of his chest and shoved him away, hard, sending him flying back towards the bed. "Don't you /dare/ touch me!" Her composure broke completely and she screamed at him. "How dare you? You son of a /bitch/. Do you know what you did to me? Do you even care as long as you get what you want?"

He slammed into the footboard of the bed, then collapsed on the mattress with a thud. Pushing himself back to his feet, he nodded. He'd deserved that and he
knew it. "'Course I care. I'm sorry, I just. I wanted to show you that you're wrong. I'm sorry. I. I'm sorry." His shoulders hung low and he had trouble meeting her eyes.

"Are you trying to make me /insane/? Just tell me what you were thinking!" Her voice dropped to pleading and she came towards him two steps, hands held out in supplication, tears still running down her face. "Please. I just have to know. How could you do it? Was it me?"

"It was. I think." He groaned and sat back down on the bed. "I don't know. I think. I think it was you. But not the way you think. I don't know." His voice was low and quiet, slightly growly from his anger at himself.

"Oh god," Marie said, very quietly. "You don't even know, do you?" Her breath caught in her throat and she turned to pick up her coat. Hugging it to her, she turned back to him, all the anger gone out of her. "I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry." Her voice was little more than a whisper now and the tears were slowing.

He stood again, moving to stand in front of her. "I don't know what he wanted," he said quietly, "but I never meant to hurt you. I just." He pushed the words out through the shame and guilt. "I didn't want to be replaced. I'm sorry."

She stared at him in disbelief, struggling not to lash out at him for his blatant ignorance. "...replaced? You?" She stared at him, eyes wide. "How could anyone replace /you/?" she asked tremulously.

"I went away," he said, as if that explained everything. "I went away and when I came back it was different. It wasn't just /me/ anymore." He forced himself to meet her eyes. "Guess I was scared." /You're not afraid of anything. You're the mean old wolverine, right?/

"What was I supposed to do?" She swallowed hard and hugged her coat tightly as though it would help her keep standing. "Spend the rest of my life as the silly little girl with the crush on you while you chased after the smart, charming, /real/ women? I couldn't play the fool forever, you know. It didn't mean I stopped loving you any."

"Yes," he said honestly. "/Yes/. You were. But you didn't. And I." His shoulders drooped again as he admitted, "I fucked up."

"You fucked up?" Marie's tone grew incredulous. "That... is the understatement... of the year. I tried. I tried to think it was all me and you didn't do anything wrong. But I can't live like that. I can't. I realized that tonight... or someone helped me realize it. Even if no one wants me, even if I am invisible, you didn't have to do that to me. For any reason." Her face was pale and resolute.

"I know." He forced himself to keep meeting her eyes. "It was. Wrong. Stupid. And I never, ever meant to make you feel like no one wants you, like you're invisible." He gritted his teeth, furious with himself, not for the first time over this issue. "If I'd stopped to /think/, it wouldn't've happened. And you wouldn't feel like this."

"No. I wouldn't," she agreed. "I don't know what to do now..." Suddenly she was lost again, and a little afraid through her anger. Being at odds with him was horrible. -Where do I go?-

"What d'you want to do?" he asked, pushing away his own fear. "I'm not gonna ask you to forgive me; I don't deserve it and you don't deserve to feel guilty for not bein' able to give it, if I asked."

"I don't know. You're the one who makes things better, you're the one who makes it not hurt..." Her voice broke. "I don't know what to do when you're the one who does."

"I wanna make it better, Marie," he offers, looking away. "But I don't know how to do it without makin' it worse, somehow."

"I don't know," she said helplessly. "Maybe... maybe I should just go for now. Maybe being apart will make it better. I don't know," she said again. It felt like a litany of defeat. "I love you still," she added, trying to keep losing everything at bay.

He swallowed. "I wish you wouldn't," he said, still not looking at her. "I want." He stopped, took a breath, winced, and looked up at her. "I love you, too."

"You want what?"

He had a quick, internal debate with himself on how to answer that question. There were many levels of honesty and he had to choose the right one for this conversation. He didn't want to screw it up again, worse. He met her eyes and answered, "You. Whatever I can get. Whatever you'll let me have."

The answer was unexpected and she stepped back a pace. "Oh." It was all she could say as the implications sank in through the haze of emotional exhaustion over her mind. "...I see."

"Do you?" he asked, a worried look crossing over his face. He wasn't pushing. Didn't want to push. But she'd asked, so he told her. He hadn't really ever intended to tell her what he'd been thinking about her, recently.

"Probably not," she admitted wearily. "I'm sure it'll become clearer in the morning." -I need tea. Or a drink. Or... I don't know what.-

He raised a hand to pet her hair, but dropped it before it had gotten halfway to its destination. "Do you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't've said that." He'd racked up a lot of 'shouldn't haves' in his relationship with Marie; he'd just add that to the pile.

She sighed and shook her head, a wan smile touched her lips. "You /are/ hopeless, aren't you?" She reached up to stroke his cheek. "I think I should go."

His eyes closed when she touched him and didn't open for a long moment. When they did open, they were filled with guilt and love. "If you want to. But I don't want. I'd like it if you'd stay. Maybe talk some more? Or just /sit/? And have a drink?" He gave a grin filled with bitter guilt. "Or you could just yell at me some more."

"I'm tired," she said softly. "It's already been a long evening. I don't have anything more to yell about tonight. Cry, maybe, but I think I'd rather do that alone." She stood on her toes and brushed a kiss across his cheek, then hugged him.

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her close. "I /am/ sorry. Just. Tell me how to make it better?" he whispered. "Anything."

"Give me time." It was all she could say. He was warm and familiar and strong and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and sleep away her misery, but clinging to safety had only made things worse so far. -Time to really grow up,- she told herself.

He brushed a kiss over her temple. "Anything," he promised again. Even that, as much as it would hurt.

She let go of him and stepped out of his embrace, slipping away. She put her hand on the doorknob. "Good night, Logan."

He stared at her hand on the doorknob, willing it not to turn, but knowing that it wouldnn't heed his wishes. "G'night, Marie." It felt so final.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Marie opened the door and then paused before leaving. "You know where I am if you need me." She stepped out and closed the door behind her and then leaned on it for a moment to compose herself before heading back to her room.

Logan stared at the door, taking little hope from her promise to see him tomorrow. When he could no longer smell her nearby, he stooped to pick up the katana he'd dropped, then headed to the basement. Maybe he could figure out how to turn off the safeties on the Danger Room.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

x-shinobi.livejournal.com

Poor, poor Marie. And poor Logan. And poor Doug!

I'd suggest they fight for her, but, uhm.. Doug lacks a healing factor. *pats the poor ickle linguist*

From:

x-rogue.livejournal.com

I don't think Doug's at a disadvantage at this point. :( The poor ickle linguist hasn't yet used her emotions as a stress-ball.

From:

x-shinobi.livejournal.com

This is true. Accursed moments of weakness! They mess everything up!

If the poor ickle inliguist or stylishly skunk-haired vaccuum cleaner need people to angst at, I volunteer. I still need to RP with you two. :)