xp_logs | If I fall along the way

If I fall along the way
Pick me up and dust me off
And If I get too tired to make it
Be my breath so I can walk

Marie-Ange shoved her hands into her coat pockets hoping she was trembling from cold. It didn't help, and as she walked further away from the mansion, the shaking her hands grew worse. As she saw Doug start up the path from the boathouse, her hands stopped, and closed into tight fists.

Doug, for his part, trudged slowly up the path, his eyes on the ground and his arms held carefully away from his body. He was practically covered head to toe in slime and grease. His hair was slightly matted, and he was exhausted. Not that he felt like he was going to get a lot of sleep tonight. He certainly hadn't _last_ night.

The slight crunching of snow under her feet seemed all the louder as Marie-Ange tried to step quietly closer, desperatly not wanting to startle Doug and send him running again. She bit down in her bottom lip hard, and forced her hands to unclench. "Doug? Doug, its .. Its Angie, Doug. Please don't run.." She called, as gently as possible.

Doug's head jerked up, startled, and he backed away quickly, as though to run. "...Marie-Ange...I can't...you shouldn't...I don't..." he stammered hastily.

"Please .. please don't run, Doug." Marie-Ange shook her head sadly, as her fingers twitched around the pieces of thin cardboard in her pocket.

Doug made an abortive step away as Marie-Ange moved a step closer. "Why, Marie-Ange? You...you should hate me. You should be avoiding me. I can't..." He turned his back, wanting with all his heart to run.

~Please, please God, let this work.~ Faster than Doug could complete his turn, Marie-Ange's hand shot out of her pocket, holding a card in a near death-grip. Setting her jaw, she closed her eyes, and pushed out mentally, forcing the image on the card to appear surrounding the pair.

Doug blinked as a large stone wall appeared in front of him. Looking around, he saw three more walls forming a small keep around himself and Marie-Ange. Placing a hand on the wall, he pushed experimentally. Turning to Marie-Ange, he looked confused, until he saw the card in her hand. "Wall of Stone? One colorless and two red mana to cast. 0/8 wall." Talking about the card was easy. Easy to avoid the real reason she was out there waiting for him.

"My card are French, but oui. It is a good blocker, no?" There was a set to her face - determined, and she was nearly crushing the card in her hand. "No running, Doug. You will listen to me."

Doug drove a fist into one of the walls in frustration. Setting his back to the corner of two walls in an attempt to stay as far from Marie-Ange as he could, he slid downward to sit on the ground. "Don't have much choice, do I."

"Non. No." Marie-Ange's face looked genuninely apolegetic. "I am sorry, but you always run away, and I will not let you anymore." She crouched in the opposite corner, resting her weight on the balls of her feet. "I am angry, yes. I am confused, and I do not understand what happened. I am not angry at you."

Doug raised his head slowly, his eyes haunted. "Why not? God knows you have reason. You should be."

The expression on Doug's face was too much for her, and Marie-Ange sat down hard on the ground, pressing her face into her knees. "No, I do not. Doug, -please-, understand I am not mad."

Doug was curled into as tight a ball as he could be, an uncanny mirror of Marie-Ange's posture, arms wrapped around his knees, not even caring that he was covered in slime and grease. "Why don't you hate me, Marie-Ange?" he whispered.

"Because I don't, because you are my friend, and because this is not just your fault." She scooted closer to him, edging along one of the walls. "I cannot hate you, Doug. Why should I?"

Doug pressed his back against his corner and shivered. "Because, Marie-Ange. Because of what happened to you because of me. You should hate me."

The continued use of her full name caused her to blink. "Angie. Doug, please. If nothing else." She inched forward, until she was halfway between Doug and the wall behind her. "It was not all your fault, and I will not hate you. I refuse."

Doug's hands clenched rhythmically on his forearms, the knuckles whitening as he struggled to hold all his emotion in. "I want...I _need_ you to hate me, A-Angie..." he stammered out through gritted teeth.

"What? No. Doug... " She reached out with one hand to try to loosen his grip on his arms. "Stop.. stop, you'll hurt yourself." Her fingers were shaking, and a tremor ran up her arm.

Doug tried to squirm away from Marie-Ange's hands and the quiet caring and concern in her eyes. It was too much for him to take. His motions were frantic and his voice rose. "You have to hate me, Angie, I need you to hate me...I need you to hate me..."

"No. No, no, NO." She gripped his fingers, prying them away from his arms, heedless of the grime coating them. "No, you don't. Doug.. I don't know what to say, Doug. I won't hate you."

Can, you help me
I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together
Keep breakin'me in

"Dammit, Angie, I want you to hate me as much as I hate myself!" The shout just slipped out past all of his inner self-control. He was just too tired to lie. Too close to rock bottom. All he had left was the truth.

A shocked little gasp escaped Marie-Ange's lips, and she blinked away the sharp prickle of tears. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, using the pain to keep the despair in Doug's voice from sending her over the edge into tears. "You have.. no idea, do you?"

"No idea of what, Angie?" The tears were sliding down his face, as he was too tired to hold them back.

"How hard it would be to hate you." The whispered response very nearly didn't come out, as Marie-Ange gripped Doug's fingers in her hands.

"Hard?" Doug snorted. "I think it'd be dirt easy. Through my own _stupidity_, you were so in love with me that you probably would have been entirely willing to sleep with me! Never mind that it was wrong, never mind anything. I was stupid, and now I'm paying the consequences."

The instinct to put a hand on Doug's cheek was strong, and the only thing preventing it was the last-minute realization that it might freak him out even more. "Being stupid is not the same as being maliceful. You are not deserving of hate, no matter what you think."

A racking, tearing sob shook Doug, and he buried his head in his knees, trying to curl even more in on himself. "Yes, I _do_ deserve to be hated, Angie," he managed between sobs. "I don't understand why you don't."

Mindless of the black gunk smearing on her hand and arm, Marie-Ange released one of Doug's hands to rub his back, trying to soothe him. "Why should I? You have done nothing worthy of my hate."

Doug, for his part, was talked out, and he just kept sobbing and trying to curl in even more on himself.

Marie-Ange let Doug cry for several long minutes, deciding it was better to let him get it out than to fight it. She continued to rub his back, and leaned her chin on one of his knees.

Doug finally subsided slightly, and drew a ragged breath. "But I did, Angie. I endagered everyone through my own damn stupidity. I should have gotten rid of it immediately, but for some reason I couldn't. And as a result, probably half the mansion wants to kill me."

"No. One. is going to kill you." The words came out of Marie-Ange's mouth, and it sounded like her voice, but without any warmth, any softness. "Not if I have to withstand the entire ranks of the X-men, and the Professor himself."

Doug said nothing, just leaned his head back against the wall and sighed deeply. Marie-Ange reached for his's face, then jerked back, unsure if the motion would frighten him more.

He jerked back slightly. "Please don't. I don't deserve it..." he whispered.

"Yes, you do.... " A slow sigh, and a tightening of Marie-Ange's fingers accompanied the words. "Doug, you are not the horrible monster you seem to think you are."

Doug snorted self-mockingly. "I'm not? I'm sure plenty of other people think I am."

"No, you aren't. You ... made the smallest mistake of everyone, and .." Marie-Ange slammed a fist into the ground. "I -know- you did not do this. I know it."

"Dammit, Angie, I'm _slime_! Hell, I even _look_ it." Doug's hand swept down to indicate the amount of junk covering all his clothes.

Marie-Ange shook her head sadly, then looked Doug in the eye. "You are not slime, no matter what you look like. You are.. .. " she trailed off, making gestures with her hands. "You are not. I cannot explain it in words."

Doug shrugged. "It sure feels like it right now."

"Because you are a wreck. Trust me, I do not see slime when you look at you." She finally reached out, cupping his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I don't."

"What _do_ you see?" he asked, desperately wanting comfort of some sort.

The walls surroundnig the pair faded, and the misty remaining fog lingering on the ground pooled around Doug's ankles, then drifted away to slowly form a minature knight on horseback, the tabard decorated with an embroidered golden cup.

If I couldn't sleep
Could you sleep
Could paint me better off
Could you sympathize with my needs
I know you think I need alot

Doug shook his head sadly. "No, I'm not. A true knight would have never been in this position. Or he'd know how to fix it."

"Then... I'll be your squire, Doug. Sometimes, even knights get into trouble.. " She stood, holding out her hand.

Doug sighed raggedly and took Marie-Ange's hand. "Some knight," he said. "Unhorsed, disarmed, armor dented..."

She squeezed his hand, helping him to his feet. "But still on the field of battle." Marie-Ange sniffed, and for the first time since looking for him, noticed the rank smell of pond water. "You need a shower, Doug. First, a shower, and then food."

"Okay," Doug replied quietly, allowing Marie-Ange to lead him back into the mansion and up to his room, which was empty for the moment, since Jamie was out with Kitty repairing the damange Doug had done, and the kids were off enjoying themselves.

Doug had spent an inordinate amount of time in the shower. Between bouts of tears, and desperate scrubbing in an attempt to feel clean, he'd been gone for a good forty minutes.

But finally he walked back in, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, hair still damp and a towel slung over his shoulder.

"Stay the /fuck/ away from her." Doug's breath came out in a rush when his back hit the wall.

"/Never/ so much as /breathe/ in her presence. You don't have the /right/."

"I know," Doug whispered with what little breath he'd gotten back.

"You don't know /shit/."

"I know I messed up. How do you think it makes me feel, knowing I've hurt her like this?" Doug said, self-hatred apparent on his face.

"I don't give a fuck /how/ it makes you feel. Y'said you were her /friend/, that y'/loved/ her." Logan growled in Doug's face. "Bullshit. If y'loved her, you'd never've kept that shit. You'da destroyed it as soon as y'got it. But y'kept it, didn't you? An' look what happened."

"I know," Doug whispered again. "I know."

"I don't give a fuck what you know, long as you stay /away/ from her." Logan got down in the boy's face one more time. "She's mine. Always has been. Don't touch what ain't yours, kid."

"You can't hate me as much as I hate myself right now," Doug answered in a quiet, dead tone.

Logan raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond, his expression and posture speaking clearly that Doug didn't know enough about what Logan was feeling to be able to say that.

Doug took in Logan's body language and snorted before continuing in the same dead voice. "Big bad berserker thinks he knows everything," He whispered quietly. "You're just itching to hit me, aren't you." It wasn't a question. "It's written all over you." He made a motion. "C'mon, Logan. Hit me. _Punish me_."

Marie-Ange broke into a dead run as soon as she heard Logan and Doug's voices, not stopping until she was in the room, pushing Doug away with every ounce of weight in her body. "What in the hell is going on in here?" She heaved, panting, and glared alternatly at Doug, and then at Logan.

Logan growled at Doug, but didn't raise a hand to hit him. He turned his head to look at Marie-Ange. "Whaddyou want?"

Doug sighed and slumped against a wall. "Hey, Angie..." he murmured.

"Hey Angie, nothing. What in the hell were you thinking?" She snapped her gaze to Logan, her normal fear of the man pushed back by anger, leaving her voice cold. "I don't even want to know why you're here. Leave him alone."

Logan raised an eyebrow at Marie-Ange. "I'll leave 'im alone when he swears he's not goin' anywhere near Marie again. Ever."

Doug chuckled, with a completely unvarnished edge of self-malice in it. "I doubt she's ever going to want to see me anyway."

Marie-Ange let out a hissing breath between clentched teeth, and glared at Doug. "Shut up." She turned her attention to Logan. "I think Em can decide that on her own, without you screaming at Doug."

"I'm not screamin'," Logan growled. "An' if she decides diff'rent, that's up t'her, but he's not goin' near her without her permission." He turned to look at Doug. "But you wouldn't know nothin' 'bout gettin' her permission, wouldya?"

Doug shot to his feet, fists balled. "Fuck you, Logan. You really think I did this _intentionally_?" He stalked forward, half-ready to take a swing himself to provoke Logan.

Logan's growl slid a little lower. "Don't tempt me, kid. I don't give a fuck if y'did it on purpose. Y'kept that shit an' this's what happened. /Stay away from her/." He turned his back on the kids and walked out.

Marie-Ange's arm darted out, grabbing the back of Doug's shirt and yanking back. "What in the hell were you doing there? What did I tell you?"

Doug sighed. "Tell me about what?"

"That you did not deserve to be hated!" She rolled her eyes, and threw up her arms in a gesture of frustration. "You could at least defend yourself!"

"Defend myself? Why? I...I _wanted_ him to hit me, Angie. I wanted to be punished..." he whispered, sitting heavily on his bed.

Marie-Ange shoved the card she'd been crushing back in her pocket in order to keep from hitting a wall, or desk, or Doug. "Which is exactly what I mean! Dammit, you aren't listening to me, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Angie," he muttered brokenly, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering, even though the heat in the room was set to a comfortable temperature. "J-just...can't stop h-hating myself..."

Marie-Ange took several long, slow breaths before responding, steeling herself. "Do you want me to go get Manuel? He offered to help people."

"No. No Manuel," Doug murmured. "He...I'm lucky I didn't have to owe him a favor just to get him to help with Amanda. He said if I ever came to him again, I had to be prepared to give him something in return." He continued shaking uncontrollably.

I started out clean
But I'm jaded
Just phoning it in
Oh,just breakin' my skin

"If he demands a favour, I'll repay him. I have more to offer than you do." She folded her arms, ready at his word to get the spaniard if necessary.

"No. Just...no. I won't...I won't be the reason anyone else gets their life screwed up any more..." He sighed.

There was a long pause before Marie-Ange responded, quietly. "It.. wouldn't."

Doug blinked at Marie-Ange. "Huh?"

Closing her eyes, she sat in Doug's desk chair, clentchnig her fists. "It would not mess up my life to ask Manuel for a favour for you."

Doug continued blinking confusedly. "Why wouldn't it...what happened, Angie?"

Marie-Ange shook her head. "It is not important, Doug. If you .. cannot pull yourself out of this, I will do whatever I have to."

"I don't...I _don't_ know if I can pull myself out of this, Angie. It hurts, and it sucks, and on some level I _want_ to continue to feel sorry for myself and hate myself and wallow in it. Easier than face everyone." He shrugged slowly. "And I won't let you...sell any part of yourself to Manuel to save me."

She sat down on the bed next to him, and leaned her elbows on her knees. "Doug, that part of me.. .. is.. worth less than the whole of you. Will you .. talk to someone? Doctor Samson, or Professor Xaiver?"

Doug shook his head. "I'm not worth something like that. And...maybe. I don't know." He smiled bravely. "I'll be okay. Eventually."

Marie-Ange wrapped one of Doug's hands in hers, squeezing gently. "You are .. worth far more than you think, and you can't even see why, can you?"

Doug's hand lay softly in Marie-Ange's, a slight quiver still betraying his lack of emotional control at the moment. "Not right now, no, Angie. I'm having a hard time seeing. But that's why you're here, right?" He smiled sadly.

Wrapping one arm around him, she pulled Doug into a hug. "Always, whenever you need me to see for you."

Doug hugged back quietly and rested his head on Marie-Ange's shoulder. "Thanks, Angie. For...everything."

Without out understanding
Hell I'll go there again

Can you help me
I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together

---
*Lyrics by Matchbox 20 (Bent)