![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-rogue.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsInstant messages, phonecalls, and other forms of communication. Sometimes taking a different approach gets to the point. Marie, Logan, and a talk about the rest of their lives.
And I hate the places that we go
And I hate the people that you know
And I hate the way you can't say no
Marie fiddled with the phone in her pocket. It was a new one, complete with camera and text messaging. She pulled it out to take a picture of Miles and Artie scoring a goal in on the driveway. Three o'clock. Didn't Logan say they'd have a break in that seminar around then? She punched in the short code for his phone and then a quick: /busy, love?/
Logan jerked out of his boredom-induced stupor -- the cafeteria was silent and even the rock-climbing wall on the far side was empty -- when his phone beeped, signaling a text message. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the message, then responded: /nope. on break. you?/
/watching boys play road hockey. mud everywhere. love you./ She sat down on a bench and pulled her coat tighter around herself, warmed from the inside by getting to talk to Logan for a little while.
/love you, too. they having fun?/ He took a bite of his roast beef sandwich. It was awful, but better than everything else on the menu. Salads.
/loud and filthy. looks like it. do you want to get married?/ It seemed like as good a time as any to get that question out of the way. What they had between them was so outside of what she was raised to expect that the issue was nagging at her and needed clearing up.
The water he was drinking went flying out of his mouth and all over the table in front of him. He mopped up the mess with napkins and sat back down. /is that a proposal?/
She blinked and laughed. /more of a lifeplanning question really. guess i don't know where mine's going anymore./
He wasn't sure how he felt about her answer, but he tried to answer her question. /haven't thought about it, but if it's what you want. seems kind of redundant, to me./
/me too. all i have is this place and you. all i want is you. get tired of people not getting that. little scared, too./ She pulled her knees up to her chest and waved to the kids to trade positions again.
He took another bite of his sandwich and typed again. /you're all i want. you know that, right? and how come you're scared?/
/don't want someone to find a reason to keep me from you./ The idea left her cold. Sure, Hank let him down into the medlab without question. But what if she were in a hospital. Or what if someone decided that because of their bond through her mutation, he had some kind of dangerous influence on her and she wasn't sane... what if her parents decided something like that, if they found out, or wanted her back for some reason. She didn't belong to anyone, really, no one but them and the Army. /just silly./
/they couldn't. i wouldn't let them./ There is, literally, nothing he wouldn't do to be with her. /it's not silly./
/okay./ She presses 'send' and turns her face into the sharp, March wind to dry her tears. She doesn't mention the cost, the damages, the fact that they could stop him and she knows it, like they had him pinned down like an animal when she came for him in the Middle East. He'd been delirious and half-mad and tormented and his talk the whole way home, when he surfaced into consciousness, had been of her. And if they had her, how would she get to him then? What would it cost her? Because there is nothing she can imagine refusing to sacrifice to bring him home. She just knows that they, whoever they may be, will look at him and at her and shake their heads.
-I just want everyone else to understand.- It was a silly thing to think of anyway, she realized. How could she get married when she wasn't even able to go to school or.... anything.
Okay. Obviously, she wasn't. /marie./ He stared at the flashing text for a moment, then typed again. /you and me, this isn't a short-term thing. it's not a long-term thing. this is a forever thing. i don't say it, don't talk about what i want from this, because i don't want to push you. but if you want to get married, if that'll make this real for you, we can do that./
/this is real to me. just not to anyone else. and. i want to know what you want. because what i might want? not happening./ She sent the message and then scooped Miles out of the ditch by the driveway where he was squeaking with glee while the other students trampled down after him. "Guys. Hello! The game is on the road." She shooed them all back to their positions before looking at the phone again.
/what is it that you want?/ His sandwich lay forgotten, his water glass half empty.
She leaned on the net at one end of the drive, watching the kids bounce after the grimy orange ball. /not to die. not to hurt anyone i love. sleep at night, with you. call somewhere home. have purpose./
/and you don't think that's happening?/ She wasn't dying, ever, if he hadn't anything to do with it. And she tried, hard, not to hurt people, he knew. She could sleep with him at night whenever she wanted. He'd thought the mansion was her home, that's why he was still there. Purpose...she wouldn't see that, he was sure.
/that's what's left./
/i want to know what you want. because. maybe that, i could do./
That's not what he'd want for her, to do what he wants simply because she can't have what she wants. He stared at the phone for a long time, finally chewing on his sandwich again. /i want you to be happy./
/you don't understand. stop trying to protect me from you./ She was getting frustrated and tucked the phone away to tie Sprite's shoe up again, her gloved fingers clumsy on the stiff, muddy laces.
He frowned at the phone, as though it were technology's fault he was in this situation. /i want you. damn it. i want you in my bed and in my life./ He tore at the roast beef with his teeth, then typed again. /i want to not hurt you anymore. i want to not have to fight so damned hard for this to be easier for you. i want you to be happy./
/you make me happy. and there's nothing wrong with that./
Nothing wrong with it at all, except for a million reasons that the world kept reminding him he agreed with. /if i make you happy, why do i always seem to be hurting you?/
/...when? only the once. other than that it's not you. i can tell you keep holding back. like you shouldn't have me./ She wished he were here so she could shout at him. Instead she tied Zane's scarf and tucked it in around his sensitive neck before giving him a hug and sending him back to play.
He took a drink of water and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, which fell right back into place. /i shouldn't have yelled at ramsey, it hurt you. i shouldn't have gone to marrakesh, it hurt you. i shouldn't have touched drake, it hurt you. i shouldn't have pissed off marko, it hurt you. all the time, baby. all the time./
/1. understandable, 2. necessary, 3. stupid but maybe i'd never have known, 4. his fault too. it's getting better. even if it weren't. it's you. always has been. even before i touched you./ She took a water bottle away from Mae and gave her usual 'this is not a toy' talk before Miles got soaked (more) for teasing. Tomorrow, they'd go in the lap pool. The cold and the mud were getting to her.
The last two bites of the sandwich went into his mouth before he looked at the phone again. /you know what i mean. i'm always doing something that ends up hurting you. i try not to hurt you and end up hurting you anyway./
/not true. even so? so what? at least you're sorry, which is more than the rest of the world is. wait./ She got the kids all moving in one direction. Powers were allowed for cleanup so it went quickly and soon they were lining up their shoes in the mudroom and washing their grubby little paws in the sink. "Upstairs, everyone. Afterschool clothes on, homework done, and then it's your own time!" "Yes, Miss Marie!" They chimed back at her, in varying tones and variations. Standing in the now filthy mudroom, she closed both doors and dialed the phone number this time.
He'd gotten so used to the quiet beeps of the text messaging, that he jumped when the phone rang. "Yeah?"
"Look. I don't understand why you're trying to protect me from you. I'm fucking sick and tired of everyone treating the way I feel about you like some goddamn dysfunction, and worst of all, you seem to believe it too." Her voice was low and furious. She picked up little sneakers with angry motions and scraped the mud from them into the sink.
She was pissed. He instinctively hovered somewhere between angry and incredibly turned on. "Dammit, Marie," he growled into the phone. He stood, tossing his plate and glass onto a tray, and dumped it into a bin, then walked outside for some privacy. "I don't think you're fucked up for wantin' t'be with me. I just don't wanna push."
"Don't want to push what, Logan? Because it's really a little too late to protect me from you, you know? I don't want you to protect me from you. I have taken the worst of what you've had to put in my way and kept going. You have fucked around with my boyfriend and then let me see it all in your head, you have run me through by accident, you have fucked off and left me alone and lonely for months and months on end without even a letter or a phonecall, you have kept me at arm's length, you have treated me like I'm made of glass and then dropped me at every possible turn, and I have /never/ fucking faltered and I think at this point you telling me you don't want to push is YOUR issue and NOT about me."
"Dammit, Marie," he repeated, trying to suppress his urge to growl at her. "'Course it's my issue. It's /my/ issue that every time y'get pissed off, at me or at anyone else, I wanna fuck you against a wall. It's /my/ issue that I couldn't let anyone else have you and I was willin' t'fuck your boyfriend t'make sure no one did. It's /my/ issue that I've nearly killed y'more'n once and that I have fuckin' /wet dreams/ about doin' it again. It's /my/ issue, Marie, and I know it."
"I think I've earned the right to you and your issues," she said flatly, wringing out and hanging up sodden little mittens methodically. "All of you. All of that and everything you keep trying to protect me from. And if I haven't, you tell me what I need to do to get it because I will. I want all of you. And I'm tired of not getting it. And if you think I can't handle you -- on any level -- then maybe I need to refresh your memory."
"You wanna know what I want? Fine." He hops a short brick wall and heads for the woods behind the corporate campus. "If I ever see that Ramsey brat again, it'll be too soon. I don't wanna share y'with your friends. I don't wanna hafta wait t'see if y'want me around. I don't wanna hafta fuckin' change myself t'be with you. An' I know it's not your fault, but you asked so I'm tellin' you." He pulled a cigar out of his jacket and lit it, chewing on the end. "An' I didn't want t'listen t'you talk about LeBeau, last night. I came in there and you were pissed off an' all I could think about was pushin' you against a wall and seein' how far you'd let me go."
"Okay." Marie sat down on the back step and started mending Zane's coat. "Doug, well, that can be arranged, just don't expect me to stop being his friend. My friends? Tough, you have to share. They keep me going when you go walkabout. I /hate/ that this damn place is changing you and it's been on my mind more and more. It's not my fault but it is /our/ life and we should decide what to do about that. As for last night," she paused, tucking the stuffing into the jacket and fastening it with a stitch, "no one was stopping you."
His breath hissed in between his teeth, past the cigar, and it was an effort not to turn around right then and head for the car. He leaned against a tree and adjusted himself in his jeans. "If I had, you'da been a lot busier when Ramsey started yellin' for you." He shook his head, thinking it was probably better the way it'd happened.
"I suppose someone else would have had to get Nathan into bed, yes," Marie said almost absently, watching her stitches. "Or they'd have had to wait for me to get my clothes back on... assuming they could get my attention at all. And, Logan, I like having you around. Why do you think you have to wait to see if I do?"
"I don't wanna assume," he muttered into the phone, trying to push the image of her, naked and pressed against the back of the door to her suite, out of his mind.
Marie almost dropped her phone. "Don't... don't want to assume that I want you around?"
"I'm pretty damned sure I don't have th'right t'assume anythin', where you're concerned," he growled, not entirely pleased by the idea. It didn't help that the Marie in his mind was sliding bare hands down her own body, tempting him.
"Okay. Look." Marie shook Zane's coat out and stood up. "What part of 'I'm yours and I want to spend the rest of my life with you' is failing to connect here, Logan?"
"The part where you're eighteen years old an' you got the right t'change your mind." He threw down his cigar and ground it out into the dirt, then picked it back up and shoved the remains into his coat pocket.
There was a long, cold silence. "If you were here, you'd be looking for your teeth for that, Logan. Eighteen? I'm not eighteen anymore. I didn't get a choice about that. I didn't get a choice about having sixty years of Erik or eighteen years of Cody or whatever of the hundred and fifty years of you that you remember or the twenty some years of Stanley crammed in my head. Don't give me any bullshit about the number on my birth certificate. No one questions my right to be shot, burned, broken, strapped down to a lab table, threatened, or used, no one stops and says, 'Wait, she's eighteen, don't shoot'. No one says, 'Oh, she's only eighteen, we'll leave her family alone then.' The right to change my mind? I'll use that when I want to, my mind's not fucking broken yet. At least I have that right with you. It's not like I have ever had it about anything else that really mattered since the day my life went to hell."
"...Don't you ever, ever, throw that in my face as an excuse for anything, never again. If you don't respect me enough to believe me when I hold out my heart and how ever many years I have left to you, then please, get the fuck out of my life right now, or at least have the decency to get a better reason to turn me down, because I will not be eighteen forever and I am so fucking tired of hearing that reason for why I cannot at least be happy, when it doesn't keep me from being sad."
"I believe you." He wished he still had the cigar. "An' I'm not turnin' y'down, not for anythin' y'wanna give me. I know y'won't be eighteen forever an' I know you're not, now, not all th'time. An'..." He kicked a tree, not wanting to talk about this at all. "An' I know y'been through shit that makes y'older'n that, anyway, an' I don't wanna be one of those things. I don't wanna be th'guy who won't fuckin' leave you alone when y'just need some peace..."
"You are my peace." All the energy went out of Marie and she sank down to the mudroom floor, tears running down her face, trying not to sob. Mechanically, she began pulling wet liners out of boots and putting them on the drying rack. "I trust you to come when I need you and go when I need to be alone and still be there when I change my mind. When I... when I told you it was over and you said we'd be fine... it was the most perfect thing in the world. I didn't think I could love you more than I did before that, and I do. I trust you. When you say 'Anything you need', I know that means the world and the moon and the stars and no questions asked. Anything. I believe you."
Dammit. She trusted him. He could trust her, too, and he knew it. He was going to have to trust that she'd tell him if he wasn't being what she needed anymore, if he was doing something she didn't want. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" She wiped her cheeks on her sleeve and got to her feet.
"For not rememberin' that I can trust y't'take care of yourself, even if it means hurtin' me." He turned around and started walking toward the edge of the woods again.
"I know you," she said softly. "I wouldn't betray you by making you into someone you'd hate more than you already hate yourself. I love you too much for that."
"Thank you," he murmured. She really did understand. It wasn't all selfless protectiveness and love. Part of it was knowing who and what he was and not much liking himself, but knowing what he didn't want to become and seeing that this, if not done right, could make him into that person. Selfish, but true. "I... Thank you."
"I'm your friend, Logan, first and last. I only want good things for you," she said tiredly, unlacing her own boots. "I also want to be one of them. Always."
"You are. Always have been." He hopped the wall again and sat down on top of it. "I wanna be one of your good things, too. Guess sometimes that makes me wanna protect you from me, t'make sure it stays that way."
"Don't." Her voice was serious. She took off her coat and started pulling off her gloves. "Of all the pain in the world, the pain I take from you is the only one that's ever been worth it. Let me try and protect us both from each other, Logan, and you worry about the rest of the world. I promise, I won't let either of us down."
He took a long breath. He wished he could see her face, smell her. "I trust you."
"I trust you too." She was feeling shakey and empty now, cold. It'd been too long since she ate and the conversation had left her with few resources. "When will you be home?"
"About eight. This thing'll be over around seven an' it'll take me about an hour t'get back." He glanced at the clock on the phone. Fifteen minutes.
"Okay." Marie pulled the clips out of her hair and opted to fly up the stairs instead of walking. She wasn't sure she trusted her legs right now. "I'll be here."
"I'll come find you?" Logan hopped off the wall and walked toward the doors he'd exited.
"If I don't find you first," she said, smiling in spite of herself.
He walked down the corridor toward the meeting room. "I love you, baby."
"I love you too. Still, more, always. Come home soon." With that, she closed the phone and closed the door to her room behind her, leaning on it for support for a long while.
He listened to the silence from the phone for long enough that it wasn't silence anymore, but a steady beeping in his ear, then closed the phone and took his seat in the conference room. He turned to the man nearest him. ".../heated/ tents?
And I like the way you like me best
And I like the way you're not impressed
While you put me to the test
And I hate the places that we go
And I hate the people that you know
And I hate the way you can't say no
Marie fiddled with the phone in her pocket. It was a new one, complete with camera and text messaging. She pulled it out to take a picture of Miles and Artie scoring a goal in on the driveway. Three o'clock. Didn't Logan say they'd have a break in that seminar around then? She punched in the short code for his phone and then a quick: /busy, love?/
Logan jerked out of his boredom-induced stupor -- the cafeteria was silent and even the rock-climbing wall on the far side was empty -- when his phone beeped, signaling a text message. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the message, then responded: /nope. on break. you?/
/watching boys play road hockey. mud everywhere. love you./ She sat down on a bench and pulled her coat tighter around herself, warmed from the inside by getting to talk to Logan for a little while.
/love you, too. they having fun?/ He took a bite of his roast beef sandwich. It was awful, but better than everything else on the menu. Salads.
/loud and filthy. looks like it. do you want to get married?/ It seemed like as good a time as any to get that question out of the way. What they had between them was so outside of what she was raised to expect that the issue was nagging at her and needed clearing up.
The water he was drinking went flying out of his mouth and all over the table in front of him. He mopped up the mess with napkins and sat back down. /is that a proposal?/
She blinked and laughed. /more of a lifeplanning question really. guess i don't know where mine's going anymore./
He wasn't sure how he felt about her answer, but he tried to answer her question. /haven't thought about it, but if it's what you want. seems kind of redundant, to me./
/me too. all i have is this place and you. all i want is you. get tired of people not getting that. little scared, too./ She pulled her knees up to her chest and waved to the kids to trade positions again.
He took another bite of his sandwich and typed again. /you're all i want. you know that, right? and how come you're scared?/
/don't want someone to find a reason to keep me from you./ The idea left her cold. Sure, Hank let him down into the medlab without question. But what if she were in a hospital. Or what if someone decided that because of their bond through her mutation, he had some kind of dangerous influence on her and she wasn't sane... what if her parents decided something like that, if they found out, or wanted her back for some reason. She didn't belong to anyone, really, no one but them and the Army. /just silly./
/they couldn't. i wouldn't let them./ There is, literally, nothing he wouldn't do to be with her. /it's not silly./
/okay./ She presses 'send' and turns her face into the sharp, March wind to dry her tears. She doesn't mention the cost, the damages, the fact that they could stop him and she knows it, like they had him pinned down like an animal when she came for him in the Middle East. He'd been delirious and half-mad and tormented and his talk the whole way home, when he surfaced into consciousness, had been of her. And if they had her, how would she get to him then? What would it cost her? Because there is nothing she can imagine refusing to sacrifice to bring him home. She just knows that they, whoever they may be, will look at him and at her and shake their heads.
-I just want everyone else to understand.- It was a silly thing to think of anyway, she realized. How could she get married when she wasn't even able to go to school or.... anything.
Okay. Obviously, she wasn't. /marie./ He stared at the flashing text for a moment, then typed again. /you and me, this isn't a short-term thing. it's not a long-term thing. this is a forever thing. i don't say it, don't talk about what i want from this, because i don't want to push you. but if you want to get married, if that'll make this real for you, we can do that./
/this is real to me. just not to anyone else. and. i want to know what you want. because what i might want? not happening./ She sent the message and then scooped Miles out of the ditch by the driveway where he was squeaking with glee while the other students trampled down after him. "Guys. Hello! The game is on the road." She shooed them all back to their positions before looking at the phone again.
/what is it that you want?/ His sandwich lay forgotten, his water glass half empty.
She leaned on the net at one end of the drive, watching the kids bounce after the grimy orange ball. /not to die. not to hurt anyone i love. sleep at night, with you. call somewhere home. have purpose./
/and you don't think that's happening?/ She wasn't dying, ever, if he hadn't anything to do with it. And she tried, hard, not to hurt people, he knew. She could sleep with him at night whenever she wanted. He'd thought the mansion was her home, that's why he was still there. Purpose...she wouldn't see that, he was sure.
/that's what's left./
/i want to know what you want. because. maybe that, i could do./
That's not what he'd want for her, to do what he wants simply because she can't have what she wants. He stared at the phone for a long time, finally chewing on his sandwich again. /i want you to be happy./
/you don't understand. stop trying to protect me from you./ She was getting frustrated and tucked the phone away to tie Sprite's shoe up again, her gloved fingers clumsy on the stiff, muddy laces.
He frowned at the phone, as though it were technology's fault he was in this situation. /i want you. damn it. i want you in my bed and in my life./ He tore at the roast beef with his teeth, then typed again. /i want to not hurt you anymore. i want to not have to fight so damned hard for this to be easier for you. i want you to be happy./
/you make me happy. and there's nothing wrong with that./
Nothing wrong with it at all, except for a million reasons that the world kept reminding him he agreed with. /if i make you happy, why do i always seem to be hurting you?/
/...when? only the once. other than that it's not you. i can tell you keep holding back. like you shouldn't have me./ She wished he were here so she could shout at him. Instead she tied Zane's scarf and tucked it in around his sensitive neck before giving him a hug and sending him back to play.
He took a drink of water and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, which fell right back into place. /i shouldn't have yelled at ramsey, it hurt you. i shouldn't have gone to marrakesh, it hurt you. i shouldn't have touched drake, it hurt you. i shouldn't have pissed off marko, it hurt you. all the time, baby. all the time./
/1. understandable, 2. necessary, 3. stupid but maybe i'd never have known, 4. his fault too. it's getting better. even if it weren't. it's you. always has been. even before i touched you./ She took a water bottle away from Mae and gave her usual 'this is not a toy' talk before Miles got soaked (more) for teasing. Tomorrow, they'd go in the lap pool. The cold and the mud were getting to her.
The last two bites of the sandwich went into his mouth before he looked at the phone again. /you know what i mean. i'm always doing something that ends up hurting you. i try not to hurt you and end up hurting you anyway./
/not true. even so? so what? at least you're sorry, which is more than the rest of the world is. wait./ She got the kids all moving in one direction. Powers were allowed for cleanup so it went quickly and soon they were lining up their shoes in the mudroom and washing their grubby little paws in the sink. "Upstairs, everyone. Afterschool clothes on, homework done, and then it's your own time!" "Yes, Miss Marie!" They chimed back at her, in varying tones and variations. Standing in the now filthy mudroom, she closed both doors and dialed the phone number this time.
He'd gotten so used to the quiet beeps of the text messaging, that he jumped when the phone rang. "Yeah?"
"Look. I don't understand why you're trying to protect me from you. I'm fucking sick and tired of everyone treating the way I feel about you like some goddamn dysfunction, and worst of all, you seem to believe it too." Her voice was low and furious. She picked up little sneakers with angry motions and scraped the mud from them into the sink.
She was pissed. He instinctively hovered somewhere between angry and incredibly turned on. "Dammit, Marie," he growled into the phone. He stood, tossing his plate and glass onto a tray, and dumped it into a bin, then walked outside for some privacy. "I don't think you're fucked up for wantin' t'be with me. I just don't wanna push."
"Don't want to push what, Logan? Because it's really a little too late to protect me from you, you know? I don't want you to protect me from you. I have taken the worst of what you've had to put in my way and kept going. You have fucked around with my boyfriend and then let me see it all in your head, you have run me through by accident, you have fucked off and left me alone and lonely for months and months on end without even a letter or a phonecall, you have kept me at arm's length, you have treated me like I'm made of glass and then dropped me at every possible turn, and I have /never/ fucking faltered and I think at this point you telling me you don't want to push is YOUR issue and NOT about me."
"Dammit, Marie," he repeated, trying to suppress his urge to growl at her. "'Course it's my issue. It's /my/ issue that every time y'get pissed off, at me or at anyone else, I wanna fuck you against a wall. It's /my/ issue that I couldn't let anyone else have you and I was willin' t'fuck your boyfriend t'make sure no one did. It's /my/ issue that I've nearly killed y'more'n once and that I have fuckin' /wet dreams/ about doin' it again. It's /my/ issue, Marie, and I know it."
"I think I've earned the right to you and your issues," she said flatly, wringing out and hanging up sodden little mittens methodically. "All of you. All of that and everything you keep trying to protect me from. And if I haven't, you tell me what I need to do to get it because I will. I want all of you. And I'm tired of not getting it. And if you think I can't handle you -- on any level -- then maybe I need to refresh your memory."
"You wanna know what I want? Fine." He hops a short brick wall and heads for the woods behind the corporate campus. "If I ever see that Ramsey brat again, it'll be too soon. I don't wanna share y'with your friends. I don't wanna hafta wait t'see if y'want me around. I don't wanna hafta fuckin' change myself t'be with you. An' I know it's not your fault, but you asked so I'm tellin' you." He pulled a cigar out of his jacket and lit it, chewing on the end. "An' I didn't want t'listen t'you talk about LeBeau, last night. I came in there and you were pissed off an' all I could think about was pushin' you against a wall and seein' how far you'd let me go."
"Okay." Marie sat down on the back step and started mending Zane's coat. "Doug, well, that can be arranged, just don't expect me to stop being his friend. My friends? Tough, you have to share. They keep me going when you go walkabout. I /hate/ that this damn place is changing you and it's been on my mind more and more. It's not my fault but it is /our/ life and we should decide what to do about that. As for last night," she paused, tucking the stuffing into the jacket and fastening it with a stitch, "no one was stopping you."
His breath hissed in between his teeth, past the cigar, and it was an effort not to turn around right then and head for the car. He leaned against a tree and adjusted himself in his jeans. "If I had, you'da been a lot busier when Ramsey started yellin' for you." He shook his head, thinking it was probably better the way it'd happened.
"I suppose someone else would have had to get Nathan into bed, yes," Marie said almost absently, watching her stitches. "Or they'd have had to wait for me to get my clothes back on... assuming they could get my attention at all. And, Logan, I like having you around. Why do you think you have to wait to see if I do?"
"I don't wanna assume," he muttered into the phone, trying to push the image of her, naked and pressed against the back of the door to her suite, out of his mind.
Marie almost dropped her phone. "Don't... don't want to assume that I want you around?"
"I'm pretty damned sure I don't have th'right t'assume anythin', where you're concerned," he growled, not entirely pleased by the idea. It didn't help that the Marie in his mind was sliding bare hands down her own body, tempting him.
"Okay. Look." Marie shook Zane's coat out and stood up. "What part of 'I'm yours and I want to spend the rest of my life with you' is failing to connect here, Logan?"
"The part where you're eighteen years old an' you got the right t'change your mind." He threw down his cigar and ground it out into the dirt, then picked it back up and shoved the remains into his coat pocket.
There was a long, cold silence. "If you were here, you'd be looking for your teeth for that, Logan. Eighteen? I'm not eighteen anymore. I didn't get a choice about that. I didn't get a choice about having sixty years of Erik or eighteen years of Cody or whatever of the hundred and fifty years of you that you remember or the twenty some years of Stanley crammed in my head. Don't give me any bullshit about the number on my birth certificate. No one questions my right to be shot, burned, broken, strapped down to a lab table, threatened, or used, no one stops and says, 'Wait, she's eighteen, don't shoot'. No one says, 'Oh, she's only eighteen, we'll leave her family alone then.' The right to change my mind? I'll use that when I want to, my mind's not fucking broken yet. At least I have that right with you. It's not like I have ever had it about anything else that really mattered since the day my life went to hell."
"...Don't you ever, ever, throw that in my face as an excuse for anything, never again. If you don't respect me enough to believe me when I hold out my heart and how ever many years I have left to you, then please, get the fuck out of my life right now, or at least have the decency to get a better reason to turn me down, because I will not be eighteen forever and I am so fucking tired of hearing that reason for why I cannot at least be happy, when it doesn't keep me from being sad."
"I believe you." He wished he still had the cigar. "An' I'm not turnin' y'down, not for anythin' y'wanna give me. I know y'won't be eighteen forever an' I know you're not, now, not all th'time. An'..." He kicked a tree, not wanting to talk about this at all. "An' I know y'been through shit that makes y'older'n that, anyway, an' I don't wanna be one of those things. I don't wanna be th'guy who won't fuckin' leave you alone when y'just need some peace..."
"You are my peace." All the energy went out of Marie and she sank down to the mudroom floor, tears running down her face, trying not to sob. Mechanically, she began pulling wet liners out of boots and putting them on the drying rack. "I trust you to come when I need you and go when I need to be alone and still be there when I change my mind. When I... when I told you it was over and you said we'd be fine... it was the most perfect thing in the world. I didn't think I could love you more than I did before that, and I do. I trust you. When you say 'Anything you need', I know that means the world and the moon and the stars and no questions asked. Anything. I believe you."
Dammit. She trusted him. He could trust her, too, and he knew it. He was going to have to trust that she'd tell him if he wasn't being what she needed anymore, if he was doing something she didn't want. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" She wiped her cheeks on her sleeve and got to her feet.
"For not rememberin' that I can trust y't'take care of yourself, even if it means hurtin' me." He turned around and started walking toward the edge of the woods again.
"I know you," she said softly. "I wouldn't betray you by making you into someone you'd hate more than you already hate yourself. I love you too much for that."
"Thank you," he murmured. She really did understand. It wasn't all selfless protectiveness and love. Part of it was knowing who and what he was and not much liking himself, but knowing what he didn't want to become and seeing that this, if not done right, could make him into that person. Selfish, but true. "I... Thank you."
"I'm your friend, Logan, first and last. I only want good things for you," she said tiredly, unlacing her own boots. "I also want to be one of them. Always."
"You are. Always have been." He hopped the wall again and sat down on top of it. "I wanna be one of your good things, too. Guess sometimes that makes me wanna protect you from me, t'make sure it stays that way."
"Don't." Her voice was serious. She took off her coat and started pulling off her gloves. "Of all the pain in the world, the pain I take from you is the only one that's ever been worth it. Let me try and protect us both from each other, Logan, and you worry about the rest of the world. I promise, I won't let either of us down."
He took a long breath. He wished he could see her face, smell her. "I trust you."
"I trust you too." She was feeling shakey and empty now, cold. It'd been too long since she ate and the conversation had left her with few resources. "When will you be home?"
"About eight. This thing'll be over around seven an' it'll take me about an hour t'get back." He glanced at the clock on the phone. Fifteen minutes.
"Okay." Marie pulled the clips out of her hair and opted to fly up the stairs instead of walking. She wasn't sure she trusted her legs right now. "I'll be here."
"I'll come find you?" Logan hopped off the wall and walked toward the doors he'd exited.
"If I don't find you first," she said, smiling in spite of herself.
He walked down the corridor toward the meeting room. "I love you, baby."
"I love you too. Still, more, always. Come home soon." With that, she closed the phone and closed the door to her room behind her, leaning on it for support for a long while.
He listened to the silence from the phone for long enough that it wasn't silence anymore, but a steady beeping in his ear, then closed the phone and took his seat in the conference room. He turned to the man nearest him. ".../heated/ tents?
And I like the way you like me best
And I like the way you're not impressed
While you put me to the test
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}