* * * * *

So things were a little different than first expected. It wasn't just the disturbingly domestic sitting in a normal living room with other people making conversation either, since he'd gotten used to that in his own way. It was a lot of things, not the least of which was his first sight of Marie in two and a half months, which really wasn't that long at all except it was for some reason, because she had changed.

Logan watched Marie finish her cake, curled on the rug, long hair almost shielding her face from view. Every few seconds, she'd run her bare hand over the gloves, carefully set beside her knee, giving them a long look before picking up her fork again and taking another bite. Then slid the plate away, wiping her fingers carefully, and picking up the black leather.

"These are gorgeous," she said softly, running her fingers over them before carefully sliding one on, tossing him a rapt look before turning her attention back down. They'd fit perfectly, he already knew--in a strange moment of some sort of prescience, he'd snagged a pair from her room the last time he left, and found a very skilled leatherworker in Mexico who made several sets for her out of the best leather Logan had ever seen. "It's so thin. Where'd you get them?" She was wearing short sleeves and he caught himself watching her slide the leather up over her bare arm. The long pair, opera length, her favorite kind. So fine she'd be able to distinguish texture through them, almost the same thickness as latex.

Then Jamie's amused eyes were on him and he looked away, concentrating on his beer as Marie got the next one on, and he refused to look. Refused, damn it, little girls sitting at his feet trying on gloves were not something he was ready to start thinking of in terms of wearing nothing but gloves in a considerably more private situation.

His room, maybe. God, was that tempting.

He shook his head, glancing idly at the stack of plates on the floor--Jamie really knew how to cook, he had to give her that.

"Mexico," he answered, glancing up to see Jamie engaged in flipping through the channels as if her life depended on it. Hiding her twitching lips with one hand, but damn, he could smell her amusement. Then Marie's attention was caught by some show or other and she bounced up onto the couch beside him--shit--and long hair brushed his arm.

Logan took another drink of his beer and decided a cold shower just might not do it tonight.

When he'd arrived, an unusual thing had happened, unusual enough to make him want to sit down and think it over, if he were the type to do something like that. He'd gotten a distinct thrill out of Marie pelting full-speed out of the house--okay, maybe that could be considered natural, he was fond of her. She never walked--at least, he'd never actually seen it happen. She ran, she skidded, she even skipped--and Marie skipping held his complete absorbed attention a lot more than was probably decent--but she never walked.

And leather-covered arms were tossed haphazardly around his neck, a whisper against his jacket of "You're back." And briefly, and he was damned appalled at himself, he rested his chin against her hair, taking in her scent, the smell of her shampoo, the silky strands against his face.

Bad thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts, get them right outta there.

"You gonna show me how to ski tomorrow?" Marie asked as she tucked a pillow against her chest, drawing her knees up against it. He tore his mind strictly out of that surprisingly pleasant memory and grunted.

"Nope." He gave a glance to Jamie, who didn't say anything but she was working hard not to laugh. Marie turned on the couch to give the older woman a curious glance, eyes wide, and he shrugged as he took a drink. Instantly, she plucked the can out of his hand, dangling out of reach.

"What?"

"I thought you might wanna do somethin' different." He reached for the can and Marie pulled it out of range. Instantly, she was suspicious.

"Don't even think 'bout puttin' me on skates again. Me and ice aren't getting along very well--you wouldn't believe the places I still have bruises."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to show him and he bit down hard on his lip as she dangled the beer just out of reach. Oh fuck, this was getting just ridiculous. And Jamie, safely on the other couch, had the bad manners to start snickering at his expression.

"Nope. Maybe a little trip."

His reward for six hours of time and trouble getting this little field trip together was the sudden incandescence that lit up her face, and he caught his breath, unable to think clearly with that smile turned on him. Vaguely, he realized he'd shifted closer and stopped himself.

"Where?" Breathless.

"Anchorage."

She stopped breathing.

"How long?"

"A few weeks, depending on how attached you get to Alaska," he answered easily, snagging his beer back and annoyed that he'd run an interested finger over her knuckles in the process. "If you wanna go--"

"Yes! Really? Yes!" Her hands went down and Logan refused to look where they landed. "This is--I mean--" she stopped, running out of words, then with all that youth and energy that always left him a little dazed, she threw herself forward--instinctively avoiding exposed skin, not that he had much when he was going to see Marie, and knocked him back against the arms of the couch.

Logan called up images of ice-cold water, snowbanks, showers set at glacial temperatures, and how extremely wrong it was to think of eighteen year old kids like this. Especially when they were wearing really thin shirts and were pressed flat against him.

"Thanks." A whisper when she looked down at him and he found himself grinning like the biggest idiot on earth.

Hours later, she was asleep on the couch--she slept like the dead, one minute awake as can be, the next sliding right down until her glossy hair was spread across his thigh, head inches from his leg, and it took *a lot* of willpower to keep from touching her.

"You keep lookin' at her like that, I might get worried." Jamie said softly and he growled--low, so it wouldn't wake Marie.

"Don't even start."

A raised eyebrow and twitching lips that he quickly looked away from.

"Just pointing out the obvious," she snickered.

"She's a kid."

A significant look down at Marie before looking at him. He looked down too, at the leather-covered hand, fingers barely touching his jeans.

"You just keep telling yourself that, darlin'."

* * * * *

Jamie turned when Logan came in the kitchen after carrying Rogue to bed. The girl slept like the dead, completely undisturbed by anything short of a nightmare or an atom bomb going off by her head. Sitting at the small table, she watched him duck in the fridge.

"What are you gonna do about her, Logan? A nice quiet trip to Anchorage, just the two of you?"

He didn't respond, instead coming back up from fishing out the last beer and kicking the door closed with his heel.

"Nothing."

She believed it too, knew he believed it, and mulled over her tea when he sat down. Because he knew the girl very well, and didn't know a damned thing about how women thought.

"Logan--"

"She's eighteen. I'm not gonna--"

"Not you. Her."

His head came up sharply, and she thought, just for a second, that there was something in them close to interest. But it was gone the second she got the view and she was left staring down at hot Earl Grey and trying to think of a way to explain without betrayed what confidences of Rogue's she had been given. There were few--Rogue didn't share very much.

There was silence, as she struggled through the thoughts, finally breathing out sharply.

"You have a lot of power over her, Logan. You know that." A sharp glance, but his gaze was fastened somewhere else, and without lights, she couldn't get a good look at his face. "You could hurt her badly, either way this goes. And I can see on both of you exactly where it's gonna end up--you've never bothered controlling yourself around a woman before now."

"You don't think much of me, Jamie. I'm not--"

"Yeah, you keep saying that." She paused, knowing she had his attention. "I'm not stupid, Logan--you tell her to jump off a cliff, she'd probably do it without even asking why. What you both end up doing--doesn't matter. You have to make sure you do it right, though."

Another flicker, different from the first, and she couldn't interpret that either, though if her life had been on the line, she would have said it was worry. He stood up, abandoning the beer. And she knew she'd pissed him off and didn't care.

"You finished?"

"Depends on if you understand--you've never had a single responsibility in your life before this. You can't fuck her and then move on your merry way. You're stuck with her for awhile." A pause. "It won't ever be casual, with her. You've got to do it all or nothing. If you can't, Logan, make sure, make *damn* sure, you don't let her think you can."

The only response she got was the sound of his boots, leaving the room.

* * * * *

It was almost familiar--Marie woke suddenly in a cold sweat, feeling Logan's hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake, the leather still cool from being hastily pulled on. She struggled with one breath, then another, then felt his hands behind her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting position on the bed, sheet falling around her waist.

"Sorry," she whispered, and a glass of water was thrust under her nose. She took a drink, then a longer one. "Didn't mean t'wake you, sugar."

Routine made up her life--when Logan wasn't here, Jamie was, curling up with her in the bed sometimes and letting her cry herself out, trying to put together the varying images--David's memories, Logan's memories, her memories--and most recently, Jamie's memories, in their own way frightening because they were so much more recent and intense.

"Don't worry 'bout it." She handed him the glass and heard him sit it on the floor. "Is it happening more now?"

"Less," she whispered. "This is the first one in a month. Too much excitement, I guess." A hand stroked her sweaty hair back and she smiled a little, looking up into Logan's face. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, kid. What was it this time?"

Shakily, she shook her head and was given another shake of her shoulders for her trouble.

"The lab." Quiet for a minute, and she gulped back a sob, refusing to drop the little control she had gained. "Just--" She stopped, taking another breath. A bounce of her bed, and Logan shifted closer, pulling her across his lap, and she buried her head against a safely-clothed shoulder, shutting her eyes tight. "I don't wanna remember, Logan."

"Yeah, well, that makes two of us." His hand stroked her bare back slowly, and Marie relaxed against him. "You wanna talk about it?"

It was a moment--she paid for them in nightmares, but it was when she got touched and held and had Logan's undivided attention. And she never believed it wasn't worth it, even with her body still shaking in reaction and her heart pounding against her chest like it was trying to get out and she couldn't draw a clear breath without tears threatening to break all her control to shreds. Leo was many wonderful things, but he hadn't yet been able to instill that calm in her that she so desperately wanted, that cool center that could lock everything out. So she breathed, like she'd been taught, and she slid her arms around Logan's back and clung tight and anchored herself in reality as best she could.

She never wanted to tell Logan that she could feel the slice of razors long after she woke up, that she had stared at her unblemished skin in wonder so many times because there was no criss-cross of scars.

"No." Because he already knew, and it'd only hurt him if she told him about the needles and the helplessness and over it all, that sheer level of pure hate that she felt in every bone in her body, until the hate seemed more real than the room that surrounded her, the body warm against hers. "You know."

"Yeah, I do." A sigh, barely discernable through the layer of flannel, but she felt it against her cheek and held a little tighter. Then--then his hand slid down over her face, gently, softly, slowly over her shoulder, and she took a breath as his fingers moved down her arm. Felt her entire body react at the feel of soft leather over flannel running slowly down her side and stop on her hip.

Knew he felt it too, and she almost breathed out in relief, because now she knew he wanted her too, and everything was suddenly easier. She lifted her head, staring up at him for a moment, seeing the slight dilation of his eyes, the pressure of his gloved hand on her skin--he always remembered to put them on before he came to wake her up.

She felt the moment change, just like she expected, when Logan snapped back into the here-and-now of the room.

"Yeah." Then in a movement so sudden she was a little startled, she was slid onto the floor and he was on his feet. Almost predictable, Logan finding a way out. "Come on."

"What?" A little dazed, she felt him grab her arm and pull her toward the door.

"Something to eat."

"Jamie doesn't approve of food at night." That had been ground into her at home too--amazing how very much Jamie and her mother had in common. Which amused Marie no end during her free hours to think about it.

"Aren't you lucky I do?"

* * * * *

The first thing he noticed, sitting in a rental car while Marie chattered away--she didn't annoy him.

So he'd half-expected long-term exposure to her would, especially long-term in relative isolation--hell, he almost hoped for it, but no go. Marie was Marie even now, and being Logan, he only realized about two hours into a conversation with her that he wasn't bored and that shut him up tight.

That and when he glanced at her, the sudden memory of the way she'd felt last night through body-warmed flannel and soft leather, the unmistakable look on her face and the pressure of her bare hands against his back.

"Somethin' wrong?" Her accent was softening--too much listening to Jamie, he assumed.

"No."

She stretched in the seatbelt, playing absently with her gloves. Wiped away something on the window. Shifted to the left a little, making herself comfortable. Then let out an impatient breath and speared him with a glance.

"Tell me where you've been."

"Around."

He felt her gaze and from the corner of his eye, saw her hand on her neck, tracing round throat of her sweater absently. He suddenly wondered if she was wearing the tags.

"Be specific. You said Mexico."

Oh yeah. Logan fished out a cigar, groping through his pockets for a lighter.

"Mexico City. Acapulco."

A nod.

"What were you doing?"

Oh shit. {Smuggling, darlin'. Doin' what I do.}

"Just moving around." He'd be damned if he'd tell her stuff like that.

Marie glanced at him for a second, then raised a leather-covered finger to tap lightly on her head.

"Try again." A small smile, and he growled as he hit the turn signal. "I retained more than you're propensity to profanity, sugar." A pause, and he could feel her amusement. "Mexico--smuggling, fighting, or did you get a job on one of those oh-so-illegal ships that are running circles around the coast guard?" The smile grew. "Or didja take up with grand theft auto, sugar? You could have quite a career if you had the patience."

Eyes narrowed, he gave her a glance.

"Forget."

"Not that easy," she shot and looked out the window. Her fingers still twisted around the collar of her throat, a searching motion. "So where are we, anyway?"

"Alberta border." Logan glanced at the signs, half-buried in snow--it was a clear day. "We're not stopping until we get to Anchorage," he commented.

"So what are we exactly planning on doing?"

"Fishing."

He snickered when he saw her expression in the rearview mirror and she turned in the seat, bringing her denim covered leg up to balance herself.

"In ice?" She sounded utterly appalled.

"Yeah." A pause, while she chewed on her lower lip and assimilated the idea. "It's fun. You'll like it. There's nothing like catching your own food."

It took effort not to laugh at the expression on her face.

"We're going to *eat* it?" Horror and a little fascination, mixed with disbelief, and not for the first time, Logan wondered exactly what it was they taught little Southern girls in Mississippi.

"I'm gonna only ask this once, baby." He hit the turn signal, checking the road automatically. "Where exactly do you think meat comes from anyway?"

She blinked, twice he noticed, and he could almost see the different answers she was trying formulate. Finally, she gave up with a little glare.

"I know where meat comes from," she finally said, but her voice betrayed a certain level of uncertainty. "I'm from Mississippi. I've seen farms."

"Exactly."

He could feel her eyes on him, studying him carefully.

"You ever like--go out there and hunt?" Her gloved hand waved in the general direction of outside. "Like, for animals or whatever?"

"I wouldn't hunt trees--no sport in that."

She growled and he bit back a grin with an effort.

"So you have."

"Yeah."

She chewed on her lip again and absently ran her fingers across her throat again.

"Cooked it?"

There was just enough uncertainty in her voice that he was tempted to tell her no, he just sat down and ate them raw. But he didn't.

"Yeah." A pause, and he saw the relief spread across her face, and couldn't stop himself. "Mostly."

Her head knocked into the window, she spun in her seat so fast, and a black-gloved hand went back up absently to curve around the back of her skull, but the dark eyes were on him, wary. Then a flicker of her mouth.

"That's imagery I needed, sugar." She drew in a breath, tilting her head. "Is it fun--hunting I mean? What do you do? Like, take a gun or--" her eyes went to his hands significantly and Logan actually felt himself begin to blush. Which wasn't something she should ever, ever see. And fuck, it sure as hell wasn't something he should ever, ever do.

"Is this twenty questions?" he asked as they made a turn onto possibly the worst road in the entirety of Alaska, though it'd have some competition with the northern areas. She frowned a little in thought.

"How many questions have I asked?" She drew a lock of her hair around her fingers and it was a close thing, that he didn't stare at her doing it.

"Didn't keep count."

"Then I don't know. Is it fun, just to--" fingers waved again in the general direction of the woods and then fell to her lap in uncertainty. "Go out there like that?"

"Yeah."

"You ever try answering a question with more than one word?"

"You ever shut up?"

She laughed then, and one hand went down to the lever on her seat, sending it backward and she reached for her coat, pulling it over her like a blanket.

"You're about to see me do just that, sugar. Wake me up when we stop to eat--I'm assuming I won't be catching my own dinner, right?" She snickered before she closed her eyes and he tossed her hat from the space between them over her grinning face.

* * * * *

It was gorgeous. That was the first thing she noticed. Utterly perfect, miles of isolation and unsullied snow, stretching forever into the skyline, and she had the door open before Logan even stopped, booted feet hitting the dry, soft powder as she took off from the road and crossed in front of the car and stumbled into the almost knee-deep drifts.

"My God," she whispered, utterly entranced.

Dreams come true all the time if you just try hard enough. If there was anything Jamie had taught her that she believed with all her heart, it was that. You just had to make sure you were willing to pay what it cost to get that dream. Standing in snow that covered her calves, she grinned up at the sky for a second. Then kicked lightly, watching the snow fluff up around her in a tight dry cloud of white. A perfect dark blue circle lay only a few hundred feet away--the bluest water she'd ever seen. And she wouldn't get even close to halfway there before Logan caught up--she'd seen him track and if there was one thing he was built for, it was navigating difficult terrain at high speed.

Though damn, it'd be fun to try.

"Fuck it--Marie--" she could hear him behind her, throwing the car in park and doubtless regretting saying that they could look around a little before going into the city. "Will you slow down? Could we at least find somewhere to stay first, before you--shit. Get the hell back here, you're gonna hurt yourself or somethin'."

She turned, laughing at his expression, kicking up a spray of clean white that hit her in the face and she wiped it away with another giggle.

"It's just snow. How can I get hurt in snow?"

"You said you were hungry." He was leaning against the back door, watching her as she looked around at the view. "Yes, nice, snow, lots of it. Great. Get your ass back in the car, baby. Now."

"Make me."

He folded his arms across his chest and gave her a long look.

"Old men can't keep up with kids, sugar? Move your ass if you wanna catch me." She danced back three more steps, saw the dark eyes narrow and focus on her. One gloved hand went out and slammed the driver's side door shut.

"I'm not that old, little girl."

"I'd say at least a hundred or so." Seeing his expression, she skipped back a few more steps. "Prove me wrong."

"You wanna take a nice bath in that pretty lake you're admiring?"

Marie laughed, turning on her heel to stare around her again, hearing his grudging trudge across the space that separated them.

"This is gorgeous, you know." She flickered a hand around, taking in the skyline painted gold and orange and pink, the lake, the landscape around them. He looked less than impressed.

"It's snow. Marie, you live in fucking Canada. This isn't something new."

He was only a few feet away now. Marie shook her head impatiently.

"Logan, look around. It's--"

"Snow."

She picked up a wad of the aforesaid snow and threw it at him, admiring his reflexes when he got out of the way (though sprinkled liberally with white fluff) and took two steps toward her before picking her up and swinging her over his shoulder.

"Fuck, Logan!" Her head hit against his back and she let out a startled breath, her hair blocking her vision as she tried to lift her head. Both hands grasped at soft leather of his jacket, and she took a handful to brace herself. "What the hell are you doin'?"

A rumbling laugh that she could feel through her body.

"First, darlin', you don't throw snow at men who take you nice places for your birthday."

"Lemme down!" She pounded a leather-coated fist into his back, but Logan didn't seem to feel it at all. Damn superhealers.

It would have helped, she supposed, if she could stop laughing.

"Second, it's 'bout two hours until dark, and ya know, I'd like to have somewhere decent to sleep." A significant pause. "Not the car."

"You've slept outside before."

"Not when I didn't have to and trust me, the have-tos have become nevers by now. I have a healing factor--you don't."

"You'd keep me warm, wouldn't ya, sugar?" she purred, trying to get enough leverage to pull herself up, but the jerks of his body didn't give her enough stability and she tried to brace her legs against his chest. A slap on her ass and she jerked in surprise. "Logan! What the hell was that for?"

"Just for the hell of it. Stop trying to kick me."

"I want down!"

"When you're in the car. Be quiet, kid. Enjoy the view."

The view consisted of Logan and snow. Not exactly a bad view all things considered and she was tempted to tell him that, but she could already guess he wouldn't take that well--she'd had two days to evaluate him and had decided that she'd have to go about this a little more subtlety than originally intended or it wouldn't work at all.

He opened the driver's side door, sliding her in without much effort, and she scooted to the far seat while he got in and turned on the ignition. A glance at her that maybe was supposed to be threatening, but snow fell out of his hair between them and Marie grinned as she raked her fingers through it.

"Really manly, Logan. We goin' back to the cave now and kill a bear or two?"

"You're growing into a real bitch." He turned his head away but she saw the smile and marked another encouraging point in her mental scorecard.

"Remind me to thank Jamie, sugar."

* * * * *

Logan dropped Marie in her room under orders be ready in ten minutes--she took those with a wicked grin, going into the bathroom with her shower kit and giving it a quick once-over--definitely a nice motel, she had to give him that. Stripping off her clothes, she turned around, measuring the space between the front door that opened on the parking lot outside, and adjusted the bathroom door open accordingly.

Jamie had given her a few things that the woman never quite guessed at--and it wasn't a lie when she told Jamie that she hadn't gotten much from their brief touch--because she hadn't. She'd gotten enough though, the one thing she really needed, a woman's point of view on sex--and being Logan's former lover hadn't hurt that at all. Grinning, she flipped the shower on and pulled the curtain closed, finding her shampoo and going to enthusiastic work.

The door opened exactly ten minutes later while she braced a foot on the sink and began to put on her lotion. Her skin didn't like winter weather--a hot Mississippi childhood didn't adapt your skin to long periods of cold. Keeping her gaze steadily down, she slid a hand over her calf, working it in carefully, the soft scent of apricot washing over her and filling the room--over her knee, both hands sliding up her thigh to her hip, taking her time. A chilled draft brushed her leg and she smiled to herself, knowing he'd forgotten to close the door.

Casually, she brushed her hair back over her shoulder and switched legs, barely hearing the indrawn breath outside the room--if she'd been a normal human who'd never absorbed the abilities of a certain mutant, she'd never have heard it at all. Casually, she ran her slick hands over her ankle, performing the same slow ritual on her other leg before standing again on her own two feet and squeezing a little more lotion on her hand. Taking a breath, she ran her fingers over both arms, across her shoulders, and worked a slow pattern down her chest. Lifting the metal dog tag out of her way to do it.

"Sir?" A voice from outside--damn, he should have closed the door. Whoever the hell had distracted him was gonna die slow. She finished rubbing the excess into the flesh of her stomach and grabbed a towel, hearing Logan turn and leave, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to shake the room. By the time she walked out, she was alone in the room and knew for a fact that Logan would not be coming within ten feet of her until he could be sure she was dressed--damn. Sighing, she unpacked the suitcase and found her clothes--jeans, her turtleneck, her favorite sweater--then considered her underwear briefly before smiling to herself and dropping them back in without comment.

This would be an interesting hunt. To say the least.

Quickly, before she forgot, she went to the phone, pulling out the phone card Jamie had given her before they left and dialing the number. It picked up on the first ring.

"Jamie?"

A moment of silence, then her voice, sounding a little thick, and Marie regretted waking her up.

"Sorry to wake you. I just wanted to call and say we got here okay."

"That's okay, sweetie. Just drifted off" A pause, and she heard her groping for the pen in the drawer beside the phone. "Go ahead and tell me where you're staying, okay? I don't want to worry about you."

Marie paused, then shook her head. Quickly, she gave her the name and settled down to tell her about the ride. Jamie laughed when she told her about the snow and described the view.

"I wish you were here."

"I doubt that, sweetie. You relax and have fun. Be a good girl."

Marie grinned and slipped her feet into her boots.

"Okay, we're about to go out to dinner. I'll call tomorrow, 'kay?"

"You do that. Bye, Rogue."

"Bye."

End Part IV