xp_logs | [Logan, Marie] Two scenes from the cottage.

Both life-fluff/character-development scenes with an eye toward this being MHM. Am too tired to be creative with a summary. Scene one touches on Xavier and his Dream, scene two on Marie's worsening, compulsive tendancy to be on the move or keeping busy every waking moment.

There was only a thin slip of moon and a crystal sprinkle of stars in the sky and the faint ambient light from the distant town to light her way, but Marie had no trouble following the worn old road back down to the beach on her late-night run. Without training to keep her tired, she was resorting to miles of running in the morning and evening. As she ran toward the cottage down the hard-packed sand exposed by the low tide, the light breeze brought her the familiar smell of Logan's cigar from the dark ahead of her.

Logan chewed on the end of his cigar, sucking smoke into his lungs through the thin paper and fragrant tobacco. The cigar was mostly an excuse to step outside for a while and enjoy the quiet. In the background of his hearing, insects and animals went about their lives, and the breeze rustled over the water and sand. The faint thudding of Marie's feet hitting the ground changed pitch as it came closer and Logan turned his head to watch her approach.

In the dark, running was close to flying; it was almost better, really. The impact of her feet on the sand and the forward impulse of every stride gave the illusion that the earth was pushing her faster with each step. Marie's ponytail flicked her shoulders rhythmically as she ran, ticking like a metronome, a familiar sensation. She wasn't out of breath yet by the time she could make Logan's form out in the dark, a shadow against shadows, and she felt a little regretful as she slowed her long strides.

He could make out her smooth form in the darkness, the way her body moved so sleekly and efficiently through the space between them. Even the way she ran showed her drive and attention to detail, each step a perfect execution of the exact amount of energy necessary to push her body forward. Yet, even with all of that, she still appeared to be flying through the air, throwing herself into the run with abandon. Watching her drew a smile from Logan, and he let a puff of smoke slip past his curled lips into the air.

Marie took one last stride and let the momentum carry her into a graceful half-fall as she spun, collapsing to the ground to lie sprawled and boneless next to Logan. Her blood was loud in her ears and she could feel her own pulse in her throat and wrists. She lay like a child with her arms out at her sides, palms open to the sky, and looked up at the stars while the residual sensation of movement made her feel like the world was spinning faster than usual under her.

Logan looked down at her with amusement and slid closer, the sand damp and sticky against his jeans. Her cheeks were pink from the chill of the air and, he supposed, from her run, and it made him want to rub against them and see if they were warmer than usual, more sensitive than usual. He watched her for a few more seconds, then leaned down to do just that, his stubbly cheek slipping against her smooth skin.

Marie laughed softly at the brush of his rough face. Her cheeks were hot compared to the rest of her cool, damp skin, and tingly with the blood in them. She turned her head a little to nuzzle up against him, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin.

He rumbled quietly, rolling to lay on his side next to her. He nipped at her earlobe, then drew away, a smile still tugging at his lips. "Hey. Enjoy your run?"

"Always." Marie smiled up at him. "The boys go to bed okay?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah. Was a good idea, bringin' 'em along. They like it here."

"It's good for S and Sarah too, I think," Marie mused, moving a little closer to Logan to soak up some of his warmth. "A bit of normal's good for everyone. It's mostly an illusion, but it's good to feel once in a while." She was quiet for a moment and then said, "You'd get bored, though."

Throwing an arm over Marie's body, Logan leaned into her. "I dunno. Maybe eventually, but I think you'd start feelin' guilty long b'fore I got restless."

"...ouch." Marie frowned. "Am I that bad?"

The shell of her ear looked inviting. Logan ran his tongue over it, then murmured, "Sometimes. Y'think just 'cause y'/can/ save th'world, y'/should/."

"It's not the world I'm out to save," she said quietly, working on not being defensive. "It's the people in it I want to keep from hurting, certain ones in particular and the rest in general. And why shouldn't I?" She pulled away from him a little so she could look up at him. "What would you have me do? Would you rather have stood on the sidewalk and known that people were suffering in that fire and done nothing about them? What's the option there? What's it going to do to my soul to see people burn, literally or figuratively, and do nothing? Especially when other people didn't just stand by and let me suffer..."

She had a point, especially since he'd gone in after someone in the fire. He had no clever excuse about why he'd done it, either. But still. "Just seems like y'feel like y'gotta--" He sighed. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn't throw herself into things to save strangers. But it felt like it. "I dunno. You're prob'ly right, though." She usually was.

"I don't know if I'm right or not, Logan," she said seriously. "But it's how I can live with myself. Maybe it's all a huge mistake. Maybe Charles is wrong. But... I don't want him to be. I want him to be right and I have to have hope. And if me standing in the fire makes that happen faster, or even just gives it a chance to happen, how can I not? I know what I am, and I know what I could be, if I didn't believe. And that gap between those things? That's all the proof and inspiration I really need."

Logan forgot, sometimes, how hopeful and optimistic she was. Needed to be. "You be what y'need t'be, baby, an' I'll do what I can t'make sure it ain't a mistake."

"Thanks." Marie shivered a little and nuzzled into his chest. "I love you."

He wrapped his arms around her, tugging her closer. "Love you, too."

The more he thought about it, the more worried he got. The more worried he got, the more angry he became, that she hadn't /talked/ to him. He used to be the person she talked to, no matter what the problem.

She was out running; she was /always/ out running. He had admired her dedication to fitness, but this was ridiculous. They had to talk. He grabbed his jacket and headed outside, determined to find her and talk.

Marie was flying along one of the walkways in the conservation area, feet hitting the boards almost silently. Her mind was as blank as the grey sky overhead, peaceful and locked-down, everyone, including herself, in solitary confinement. It was better than sleep. The silhouette of someone standing -- waiting, her mind said -- on the bridge woke her. What was he doing here? Frowning a little, she slowed to a walk as she approached him.

"Is everything okay?" She had her phone. He would have called if there were something wrong.

"You tell me," he growled, frowning at her.

The response startled her and she backed up to lean on the railing opposite him. "...I don't know what you mean." Everything was fine, wasn't it? People seemed happy, work was getting done, everything was normal. Being still nagged at her and she bit her lip.

He noted the tension in her body, realised that she was either feeling threatened by his question or, maybe, by the lack of motion. Or both. Sometimes, he wished his senses were more acute, more informative. "You haven't stopped movin' in days. You haven't slowed down, haven't taken a /breath/ in a week, at least." He was pretty sure, thinking about it, that it had been much, much longer.

"Things need doing," Marie said, trying not to seem defensive. "Is there something wrong with that?" She didn't want to think about it. It wasn't like anything she was doing was going to get her anywhere. She felt like a carousel horse, when she stopped moving, when there was time to think. She reached up absent-mindedly and tugged on one of her braids until it hurt for a moment, clearing her head, then met his eyes. "I like to keep busy. That's all."

"There's somethin' wrong with it when y'don't /stop/. We're s'poseda be on vacation an' you're still takin' lesson plans t'bed, readin' books while you're cookin', runnin' all the rest of th'time." He shook his head. "There's somethin' wrong."

"Thank you for the update," she snapped. She turned her back on him and started walking away, down the slope of the bridge. "Nice of you to come all the way out here to fill me in. I'm so sorry I'm not fucking covering well enough. I'm doing the best I can. Forgive me if it's making you uncomfortable."

Logan followed her down. "Good. Get mad. Y'ain't been doin' /that/ either."

"I don't want to." Marie spun around to face him again. "Don't you get that? I can't afford to. Can't you back off? Am I not making you happy enough? What more do you want from me?" She bit back tears and shook her head. "I said I was sorry. I meant it."

"Back off? Like /hell/. This ain't got nothin' t'do with me or how happy you're makin' me, but if y'wanna know, /no/. You're /not/ makin' me happy. It don't make me happy t'see you walkin' around like a fuckin' shell. You're not /you/. What more do I want from you? I want /you/ from you." He didn't, couldn't let the sheen of tears in her eyes, not yet spilled over, sway him. Giving in wouldn't fix things. If leaving her alone would've helped, she'd already be okay, but she wasn't.

"I used to know who I was." Her voice was low and flat and angry. "Now I can't think and I can't breathe without wondering whose thoughts I'm having or who needs to take a breath. I have dreams that aren't mine, thoughts that aren't mine, and there is /nothing/ I can do to stop it and maybe I already am them, maybe it's too late and I just don't know it, but at least I can keep trying not to be the worst of what they are. You can't have me from me, because I don't have me anymore either. So maybe you should just go and save yourself the wasted time and inevitable disappointment."

"Bullshit. /Bullshit/." He moved to stand in front of her, crowding her. "You're stronger'n that an' you /know/ it. Inevitable disappointment, my /ass/."

"I can't do this!" Marie pushed him away, furious and tearful. "I hate Erik for using me, I wish you'd just let me die there. I hate John for running away and getting in trouble, I hate Stanley for being a weak coward who didn't kill me when he had the chance. I hate every person who's ever thought they could lay a hand on me to get what they want." She tore her gloves off and threw them on the ground so she could tear at the skin on the insides of her wrists with her fingernails, enamelled knives ripping deep. It was almost unconscious, because she never looked down, her eyes never left his face.

"I hate this. I hate me. I hate you. I hate your goddamn nightmares and your trauma, I can't stand how you hurt me and you're all I have, I hate you for that, /so much/. I hate myself for loving you anyway, I can hardly look in the mirror sometimes because of it."

Logan grabbed at her upper arm, trying to tug her hand away from her wrist. "So hate me. Hate my nightmares, hate my problems, hate me. For hurtin' you, for touchin' you. /Hate me/, dammit, but stop killin' yourself tryin' not to."

"You're all I have. Even if I hate you, I can't get rid of you, I can't get rid of any of you. At least you came back." She twisted out of his grip, hard and careless of the pain of it, and stumbled back. "You didn't mean to do this to me. It was't even your fault. You didn't touch me, I touched you. I was just trying to tell you it was okay, you were so afraid. That was all. I never meant for any of the rest to happen. I never meant for any of this to happen, I didn't mean to turn into this. I'm so sorry." She backed away from him, hugging herself, digging her nails into her arms again to keep from flying apart.

"Stop." He stepped forward, reaching up to tug at her hair. "I'm /not/ all you got. You got a lot of people who care about you, these days." He sighed. "I didn't mean it an' neither'd you, but it's what happened. You got nothin' t'pologise for."

"I hate this." It wasn't defiant this time, just regretful. She stood still, eyes closed, as though he were about to hit her instead of being affectionate as he always was. "You're all I /want/. I don't want anyone else. I'm so scared it hurts. What happens when I fail, Logan?"

"If, not when. I don't think you'll fail, baby, but if y'do, I'll be here t'help y'pick up the pieces." The back of his hand skimmed her cheek.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," she said in a very small voice. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said. I want to say it's not true and I can't..." She pulled her sleeve down over her bloodied wrist and wiped her tears away with it. "I just keep hoping that I can keep it all together. And it's not good enough, I guess."

"You're hurtin' /you/, baby, an' that's no good." Sure, it hurt knowing she hated him, but it was better /knowing/.

"I don't care about /me/." Marie stepped in to lean against him, fresh tears soaking into his shirt, her arms sliding around his waist.. "I just... I'm so tired of fighting them. I thought I could do it and I can't but I don't know what will happen if I don't."

Logan was silent for a long time, holding her and thinking about what she'd said. "Can ya..." He spoke quietly, almost a whisper. "Is there a way for you t'make us all /part/ of you? So y'don't hafta fight us? Like...you're you, but we're you, too? ...'sat make sense?"

"I don't know. I don't. The psychiatrist they sent me to didn't know what to do with me. Maybe Charles could take them all away, but I don't want them to go and I don't know why." She was shivering and pressed close against him. "I hate the idea. It scares me so much, it makes me feel sick. But like this... like this I'm not even me."

He was quiet again. Charles might be able to help, she thought. What about one of the other telepaths? Emma, maybe, she was pretty damned powerful. Maybe she could help Marie merge the people in her head... "What about one of the others?" he asked, stroking her hair slowly.

"I don't know," Marie said again, sounding tired and defeated. "It's so hard to trust anyone with the inside of my head, especially lately. I just can't keep going like this and I'm so scared of what will happen when I stop. I hate what I'm doing. I hate what I'm becoming because it's just a reaction to what I'm afraid of being but I don't know what else to do. I know I'm not okay, Logan. I'm just sorry I can't hide it better."

"Y'shouldn't be hidin' it at all, baby. Sometimes, bein' strong means /not/ bein' okay, I think, an' I'm thinkin' this is one of those times for you." He ran soothing hands over her back. "Whatever happens, I'll be here t'help."

"What am I going to do?"

"Talk t'me." Please. "Talk t'people who might be able t'help. /Let/ people help." Let /me/ help. "Try an' stop bein' scared of yourself." Trust yourself.

"What am I supposed to say, Logan? I really hate you today?" She laughed against his shoulder. "...I don't hate you all the time, you know that, right? I'm just angry and tired and you can't fix it anyway, no one can, so why say anything to anyone?"

"Because maybe we /can/ fix it, or at least help /you/ fix it. Because, if y'say somethin', we can /be there/ for y'when y'need us." Me. When you need me.

"I got used to doing it alone," she said quietly. "It's what I know."

"An' that's been workin' real good for ya, ain't it?" he asked bluntly; tip-toeing around her problems hadn't worked and he much preferred the honesty of saying what he was thinking.

"Jerk." Marie's tone was dry but affectionate. "Wasn't like I had a lot of choice for a while there. Who was I going to talk to?"

"I'll try an' remember not t'get captured'n tortured for another half-year, any time soon," he said dryly, snorting as his hand brushed her hair affectionately, soothingly.

"Mmm. Glad to know you differentiate that from our relationship," she retorted.

Logan snorted again. "Nah. Ain't been six months on that, yet."

"Well, if chaining you to the wall is the only way to get you to stick around that long, I'm going to have to go talk to Cain about renovations." Marie kicked him lightly in the shins without letting go of him.

He coughed, clearing his throat. "Damn good way t'make things interestin', anyhow."

"Trust you to come up with a bright side to it." Marie started to laugh, and then kissed him. "You're the most infuriating man ever, you know that?"

"I try," Logan assured her with a smirk, dipping his head for another kiss. "Can't go 'round bein' borin'. Y'might get tired of me."

"Never. Not ever." The idea frightened her unreasonably, so she clung to him fiercely and buried her face in his shoulder for a moment before speaking again. "I'd have to get tired of being loved first."

He brushed his lips over her temple. "Well, I'm not goin' anywhere, so we'll have plenty of time t'find out if that's gonna happen or not," he teased in a reassuring tone.

"I'll keep you up to date." Marie shivered and pushed herself away, bending to pick her gloves up. "I can't do things differently right now," she said apologetically. "I just... at least this way I can sleep at night. But I'll try to cut back a little, try to talk more."

Logan nodded. It was really all he could ask for, that she try. "An' I'll ask more questions," he promised, "t'remind you t'talk t'me, let me help." He slipped off his jacket and held it out to her, noting that her shivering hadn't stopped yet.

Marie finished putting her gloves back on and stared at the jacket in Logan's hand for a long moment and then looked up at his face, her expression serious. She took the jacket from him and pulled it on, feeling the warmth of his body seep into her chilled, sweat-damp skin. "Thanks."

It was simple all of a sudden. She was cold, he gave her his jacket. She was angry, he listened. Even if she was angry at him. Even if he couldn't fix it, it wasn't like she was alone anymore. At some point, she was just going to have to take him at his word and let the rest go and let him love her. No matter how frightening trusting him was sometimes, the alternatives were unthinkable.

Something in her face told him that she'd made a decision, had a realisation. He reached out to tug on a lock of her hair, but didn't ask what she was thinking. This time, he'd let her keep her thoughts to herself. "You're welcome," he said, just as serious as she'd been.

Marie turned to walk back to the cottage and somehow her hand found its way into Logan's and their fingers intertwined. He kept the pace slow, keeping her close to his side, and instead of being impatient she tried to let the impulse go and hold on to him instead. By the time they walked up the weathered wooden steps to the cottage, Marie was more tired than if she'd run the whole way and then some. She let him lead her through the still-silent cottage to their bedroom where he laid down on the bed with her, curling his body around hers protectively, and watched her fall asleep.