Fatal Caress
Chapter 2
by
Misty
DISTRIBUTION: You got Almost a Woman archived? You can have this one. Everyone else, please ask.
NOTES: Written because people wanted a sequel. I have a rough idea where I'm going with this, and I do know it's going to be a series. I have to finish some other fiction though in the Angel and Xena genres before I write the next story, but I figured my X-men site needed some more fic anyway.
You say I'm abrasive, too possessive
It's too soon, too much
Won't wait around, slow it down
But I'm burning up
What can I do to get through to you
I know that you're the one
Cause there's no controlling this emotion
It's bigger than us
You don't know what love is
If you think that I can fight this feeling
Keep my true heart from revealing everything inside
And you don't know what love is
If you hear me say you're mine forever
Till our two hearts beat together
And think you can resist
You don't know what love
is
It's soft and gentle, sentimental
Can't you feel it too
There's no denying or compromising
It's perfectly true
It's over powering, it's all around me
When I'm around you
You don't know what love is
If you think that I can fight this feeling
Keep my true heart from revealing everything inside
And you don't know what love is
If you hear me say you're mine forever
Till our two hearts beat together
And think you can resist
You don't know what love is
You Don't Know What Love Is
Written by: ( Steve Bogard/Mary Green ) (BMI)
Sung by Lonestar
~*~
I was a damn fool.
And she was right. I was an idiot for thinking I could make a difference, that it would be me that would take her away from her pain, from her emptiness.
It was beyond me.
But damn... I had to be able to. I had to try...
Every night since I've gotten here, I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think without her having some place in my mind.
My little Marie. My little Rogue.
The others don't see it. And it pisses me off. To them she's the way she is and that's it. It's over. There's nothing they can do.
Bull shit.
You see someone in pain, someone you care about, and you do something about it. It's in her eyes, in her face.
I've been watching her. That's what I've been doing. That's all I've been doing. To hell with what people say. I had my purpose.
And I knew what hers was.
She was their super mutant. Their infallible little sexy untouchable. Oh sure, she had friends, but they knew what she was capable of, and they stayed away.
It pissed me off so much I had a nice, long talk with the professor about it.
Okay, so it was less than a talk and mostly me yelling and clawing at the air and trying to get him out of my mind.
He's one powerful asshole, that professor. Scary to think what would happen if he ever used that 'gift' of his for the other side.
"You think we're using her," was his calm answer when I had yelled and stomped in and he had finally calmed me down long enough for me talk without my claws.
"Damn straight I think you're using her."
He was quiet for a moment, hands clasped together, looking up me with no hint of fear in his voice. "You've been on the outside, have you not?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"It's a shit hole."
"Quite." He cocked his head, studying me. "Rogue is a very powerful mutant, Logan. And a very lonely one. She's not quite sure who she is... what she is... and she's quite certain that her future is very bleak. She also has developed a bit of a volatile side, thanks to her numerous... connections."
"And?"
"And that's dangerous for her. Logan if we let Rogue out on her own, she's vulnerable."
"I know that," I snapped.
"Do you?" His eyes bore into mine, dark and soft and intense at the same time. "A mutant like her would be very highly prized in the brotherhood. Someone with an evil mind could take her, not let go... mess with her head, so to speak. And she'd be one of the most dangerous foes we would have to face."
I glared, not understanding, not wanting to understand. "Give me a straight answer," I finally snapped, crossing my arms. "She's twenty two years old."
"Oh I beg to differ. I'm afraid she's much wiser than that. You should know Logan, in here." He tapped the side of head gently. "Is what really matters. And she needs to deal with that before she makes any decisions... about anyone. Or else she could become very dangerous, not only to herself, but to us."
"Not Rogue."
"Yes, Rogue. I know why you're here. You'll only be hurting her, Logan." He wheeled himself forward, until his body was inches from mine. "I'm allowing you to stay because you're quite possibly the only person who has connected with her that she loves."
"Loves?" I repeated, somehow struck by the wording.
"Yes. Loves. You're very dear to her, Logan. And she needs that."
"She needs someone to figure out how she can control her powers."
"She needs a friend, Logan," he finally snapped, his voice crisp, teeming with authority. "Not a lover. Keep that in mind. You'll only be hurting her if you try."
I hadn't believed him then.
I forgot how much he knew about all of us.
And damn, I paid the price.
I had hurt her. I had seen the look in her eyes, and it was like she had taken my hand, ripped the claws out and impaled me with them.
Damn.
It was silent that night. Everyone was asleep and the mansion was dark as I slid the duffel bag over my shoulder and walked silently through the halls.
I was going to have to walk to town.
I was running again. But this time, I had reason. I had hurt the woman I had promised to protect. I had seared her heart and in turn, my own.
Cause she was inside me. She knew me.
And I didn't know her. I didn't know her at all.
She was right. She wasn't Marie anymore. Maybe she never was. She was always Rogue, deep down inside. In here, even the old timers, Scott and Ororo and the beautiful Jean treated her as a comrade, half-afraid of her, of what she could do, wanting to get close, and knowing they couldn't.
Sure they loved her. But no one knew her.
Then why did I feel like I did? Why did I look at her and feel this tug in my heart, this familiarity that was in me when our eyes met?
It wasn't like anything I had felt before.
Hell it was kinda freaky.
A familiar scent drifted to my nose, and my steps faltered. I closed my eyes, feeling my heart drop and my body tense.
God. She was close.
I sniffed again, and found myself turning myself in the direction of the scent, walking on legs that seemed to move on their own, in a mind that had one objective...
Seeing her one last time.
I found myself at a doorway, and I turned the knob, looking up and down the hallway before slipping inside, closing the door behind me and looking toward the bed.
She was dressed in a white gown. Her hair tumbled around her, the white streaks visible, framing her face like a halo.
I just stared at her.
Damn, she got beautiful.
She was always a good-looking kid, but... Damn.
Something was wrong. Her body suddenly jerked and my body tensed when a soft moan of anguish escaped her lips. Dropping my bag I came forward, around the side, looking at her face.
Her expression was contorted, and it looked like she was going through hell.
I looked down, reached out a hand to shake her awake, and then stopped myself seconds before my hands touched her bare skin.
Damn.
I reached for her blanket, bunched under her, when I saw her hands and froze.
She was clutching my dog tags.
Suddenly I shuddered, couldn't stand, and found myself sinking down, kneeling beside the bed.
"Rogue." I whispered, taking the bit of blanket I could, covering my hand and gently shaking her.
She only twisted her body, trying to get away.
"Rogue," I said gruffly again, shaking harder.
There was a cry, and suddenly her eyes shot open, her hand shot out. I leaned back as fast as I could, knowing what her touch could do, pulling the blanket with me and blocking the hand with my own, the thin sheet separating us.
She froze, and I could feel her trembling. My eyes slowly drifted to her now open ones, saw her blinking, sitting up, and then freeze when she recognized me.
"You were having nightmares," I said slowly. She stared at me, as if unsure and then looked at our hands, and quickly pulled away.
"Yeah," she answered shakily, running her hands through her hair.
I leaned against the bed, looking at her with a solemn expression on my face. "Do you have them a lot?"
She shrugged, managing a grim smile. "On and off." Her eyes flickered to mine. "You know they're yours."
Mine. She was having my nightmares. Of my memories.
DAMN.
"I'm sorry." I whispered gruffly, found I could think of nothing else to say.
"Don't be. It was my way of keeping you in me." I felt my heart heave inside me, and I noticed that she began to study me, her gaze roving over my clothes, and resting at the bag I had thrown haphazardly aside.
She froze.
"You were leavin'." It wasn't a question. There was a small insecurity, a trace of panic, and I swallowed, looking away, not wanting to face the accusation in her eyes.
"Well you told me that if I was staying for you-"
"Were you?" She was never one to mince words, and damn, her honesty drove me crazy.
I couldn't look at her when I grumbled, "Yeah."
There was silence, and the tension from before reentered, as she became more and more alert. When I finally met her eyes, they were darker, knowing... so mature and wise, and my poor little Rogue knew so much... Damn. There was so much sadness there, so much hurt. I wanted to take it all away, and I couldn't even touch her.
I hated this.
She licked her lips, and cleared her throat as she whispered, as if the darkness of the night seemed so sacred to her she didn't want to break it by speaking louder. "About before. I'm sorry." There was a drawl that caught on the end of her words, but it was quiet, meaningful. Sincere.
Her eyes were moist, trimmed with tears, and I had to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from touching them.
I found myself smiling at the grim reality. Damn.
"Yeah. So am I." The fists came out, and I looked at them, feeling my claws at attention just under the skin. For a second I fought the urge to skin them out. The pain as the skin ripped would have focused me. I was tense inside. I felt everything changing, and it was all because of her. It was frightening.
I don't like being helpless. I don't like having something run away from me and every time I'm with her that's exactly what happens. I was speaking from the heart, and in my mind there was no dry sarcasm, no biting humor.
Because it was Rogue... and damn, that scared me to death. I looked up, met her eyes, and felt a surge go through me. "I should have talked to you." The words came from my mouth before I knew what I was saying. "I didn't know what to say. When I left before... you were a kid... but you know... I never felt the way ... I wanted to protect you. And to care that way about someone that I just met..." I bit the sentence off and growled at myself, hearing the sentence tremble. Fuck. This wasn't me. Hell, kid. What did you do to me?
"And then I came back and you had changed into this... amazing person. You had become everything that I ever..."
Movement made me stop, and when I finally looked back up, I saw she was sitting up, and when she reached out a hand, it was gloved.
I was quiet as I watched it's descent to my face. I closed my eyes when I felt the tender caress, felt a shudder go through me as I wished so desperately to feel her skin, her warm skin touching my face...
I had held her once. And it had nearly killed me.
My face turned, against my will, leaning into her hand, the look on her face so tender, so full of understanding and her eyes so wet with feeling and emotion-
My lips pressed against her palm, feeling the smooth satin against my mouth. My hand rose and kept her palm against my mouth, reveling in the caress, knowing this was as good as I was going to get, knowing it would never be enough.
She pulled away with that strength that she had... "Logan." Her voice was strained, tortured, and it ripped me apart. "Logan," she tried again. "I can be your friend," she whispered, leaning forward, tears sliding down her face. My hand bolted for a piece of her stray sheet and I wiped it away as carefully as I could. Her sentence faltered, and she sighed raggedly, leaning back, her chest heaving. "I can love you," she continued. "I do love you, and I can talk to you, but as a friend."
"That's not enough," I snapped gruffly. "Not for me. Not for you."
She was quiet, and suddenly she smiled, a tired smile that should have never been on the face of a twenty-two-year-old girl. "You know what you're doin'? With your crazy talk about stuff that kin never happen? You makin' me feel like the old one."
A small smile flitted across my face as I reached up and fingered the white strands that hung loosely around her face, seeming almost to shine in the moonlight.
"Maybe you are." She smiled, and then fell quiet.
I didn't say anything. I knew I didn't have to. Her face cast downwards, and for a second I couldn't see her expression, but when she finally shuddered, looked up, I knew the battle was at least halfway over. It was in her eyes, in her face, and in her words.
"I need you," was the intense whisper. "I've always needed you."
I could have smiled like an idiot. But I didn't. The moment was too sacred for that. And I never have sacred moments. They only happened with her. So instead I just stared into her eyes, knowing the pain in her heart, feeling it all too well.
It was a tortured soul I was offering. It was a tainted past... one that even I didn't know. It was a life of a man who killed with knives, a freak of nature who's only "gift" was that of being a beast. He was cruel. And in my whole life, I had managed only one thing I had that was even close to worth keeping, worth fighting for, worth dying for.
I sure as hell wasn't going to lose it.
"You'll always have me." And my dry sarcasm kicked in. "Come on, someone needs to spice up these geeks.
She chuckled, and then grew silent.
"I'm not making any promises."
"You don't have to."
"You'll stay here." It wasn't a question, but the insecurity behind it made my chest wrench.
"Yes." My eyes suddenly turned to my forgotten bag, and leaning forward, I reached inside, pulling out the weathered old blanket I had kept for years. Her eyes were curious as I shrugged off my jacket, kicked off my shoes, and then suddenly froze when I floated the blanket over her body.
God, she was so small.
The bed sunk down when I lay down on it, and still she didn't move as I arranged my body to cradle hers, the thin sheet still allowing me to feel the heat between our bodies.
When my arms slid around her, pulling her against me, she was still, and suddenly she shuddered, and turned, burying her face in my chest, her gloved hand slipping around my waist.
"Thank you," was the shaky whisper.
I only slid a hand to her hair, gently running my fingers through the silky strands, able to pick up the white ones even in this darkness as they spilled over my chest.
"Don't mention it," I whispered, pulling her trembling body tighter against me.
She was breathing evenly, the dark woman who I had once called kid, who had twice almost killed me, who I had once stabbed with my claws, taking comfort, solace in my arms.
Her hand slipped in her sleep, and I felt the movement against me, and closed my eyes.
In all my life, what I can remember of it, I've always had this idea that I've done something wrong. That I'm paying for something that I did. That I deserved what was done with me, and every time I'm wounded, everytime the knives rip through my fists and I feel the metal wrench inside of me, I'm only paying a fraction of what I owe the world.
I'm still not sure why it's her that makes me think I might have a chance to repay it. I'm not sure why the kid from five years ago suddenly is the woman of my dreams. I'm not sure what makes her think I could love her the way I want to and not pay the price, or why I believe that myself. I'm not sure what makes me think we'll find a way to make this work.
But I do know one thing. There's one thing I'm absolutely sure of, and the beast inside me has its claws around it and won't let go. It'll never let go, because I'm sure.
My absolution was in her fatal caress.
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