Summary: Logan's been waiting.

Old fanfic from years ago that I thought I'd share again. :)

Marie slipped on her dressing gown and quietly exited the bedroom she shared with Jubilee and Kitty, careful not to wake them so to avoid questions she had no desire to answer.

The corridor was in darkness save for the moonlight that streamed in through the skylights and, taking a deep breath to gather her courage, she hurried along it, silently passing the many doors dotting its length, until she reached the one located at the very end.

Her destination. She stared at the rich mahogany wood uncertainly. Logan's bedroom.

There she paused, her hand hovering hesitantly over the doorknob.

Yet...she suddenly found herself frowning.

He wasn't there.

She knew it instinctively, the knowledge not really surprising her, putting it down to her inner Logan, having still retained some of his keener senses long after the mini Wolverine in her head had sadly faded away. For a moment, she contemplated returning to her room. It was late, she was cold, and she felt more than a little apprehensive about seeking Logan out like this.

Her heart tightened, an all too familiar ailment since Logan had left, and she told herself that her feelings were more than justified considering the circumstances. After two long years away, Logan had finally returned, only to immediately seek out Professor Xavier, spend most of the day in his office before finally retreating to his room. No hellos, no reunions. Not even an indication that they'd catch up later. She tenderly caressed his dog tags that she wore religiously around her neck and couldn't help but feel let down somehow. She knew that they hadn't spent an enormous amount of time together before he had left, but it had been the quality of the time shared, not the quantity. She really felt as if they had connected at a deeper level, in a unique, special way, that couldn't be defined by words exactly. She sighed beneath her breath. But then, she had always been too much of the dreamer. Logan would've probably laughed at such whimsical musings.

Word had gotten around that he had been in a bizarre mood since returning, unusually submissive, not his usual confrontational self, and disturbingly distant - even more so than usual. It was assumed that his search for clues to his mysterious past had been in vain, and had inevitably taken its toll.

He'd be in the kitchen Marie realized - another instinctive conclusion - and she could almost smell the heady cigar smoke and visualize the bottle of beer held lazily between his fingers as he sat brooding at the kitchen table.

When she reached the kitchen doorway, she stopped suddenly and couldn't help but gasp as the images in her head materialized into reality almost as if she had conjured up the scene, even down to the bottle in his hand. He looked just the same. Two years might not even have passed.

He peered up at her with an air of casualty that hinted he had been expecting her and his words reinforced this. "You took your time, kid."

Marie remained in the doorway. "You've been waiting for me?"

A flicker of a smile touched his lips. "Sit," he demanded gently, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

As Marie did as he asked, he downed the last of his beer. She watched as he quenched his thirst, eyes running longingly up the length of his neck, but didn't speak. In truth, she didn't know what to say. She had fantasized this moment so many times and yet the reality of it held her in a vice's grip, refusing her the ability to do anything but gape at the man before her.

The dog tags. That was the only comprehensible thought that entered her head and, before she could stop herself, she was reaching behind her neck to unclasp them.

She felt somehow naked without them against her skin but placed them on the table between them anyway. "You'll be wanting these back," she began gently.

"Will I?" Logan answered quickly and Marie was taken aback by the sharpness of his words.

"Well...I assumed..." she continued uncomfortably.

"You assumed wrong, darlin,"

Marie suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes, a combination of his unsettling behavior towards her and the fact that she had missed him so very much. She wondered, with a sense of dread, what could have happened to him during his two years away. What if he had found answers? Terrible answers? "Why are you acting so strangely?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"

He looked away, peering out of the window into the night, revealing nothing.

"Logan?" Marie prompted uneasily. Her heart was starting to race and she was beginning to feel more than a little concerned.

He snapped his gaze onto her, shock apparent in his dark eyes. "Don't ever feel afraid of me. Not you. Not ever. I never want to smell fear on you, kid."

She shivered at the idea that he could pick up on her emotions so easily and hoped he never picked up on her desire. She felt herself flush at the thought. "But you're acting so strange. How am I supposed to react?" she blurted, before her body could even attempt to betray her.

He averted his attention to his bottle label this time, seemingly fascinated by its contents, and Marie's fear made way for frustration. Her eyes lingered on the dog tags that lay in the center of the table. She missed them already, having been her constant companion - the only link to Logan - for the past two tormenting years.

When Logan retained his usual stubborn silence, she sighed and made to stand up. "I'm cold," she mumbled shortly, purposely lacing her words with an air of rejection. "I'm going to bed." Whilst in the silence of her mind, she was screaming at him not to let her go, to just say something, anything, just tell her what was on his mind.

Logan's hand shot across the table to claim hers, making her start and, for an instant, they were both shocked as skin met skin. Yet there was no pull, no mutation taking effect. Logan watched her questioningly, surprise - and could that be hope that Marie detected upon his face? - but he didn't attempt to release her hand.

"I learnt to control it," she finally revealed, a hint of that initial delight returning to her tone. "A few months ago. With the professor's help."

His grip tightened and his thumb softly caressed her wrist. "That's good," he said somewhat hoarsely, as if he couldn't quite get the words out. There was a strong undercurrent of emotion in his tone but Marie couldn't seem to decipher what exactly. After a few long moments, she attempted to pull her hand free. "Can I have my hand back?"

"No."

"No?"

"Don't go to bed..." He faltered. "I need to..." He swallowed uncomfortably. "Need to talk to you..."

"Talk to me? About what?"

He didn't answer her, seeming mesmerized by the sight of her hand in his. "You've got damned soft skin, kid."

Marie had to take a long breath. The way he was caressing her, even just her hand, was beginning to send delicious sensations through her, like tiny electric shocks of pleasure. She had never experienced anything like it before, but then no one had ever touched her before. Even though she had been able to control her mutation for a while now she had been determined to save herself…for Logan. Only Logan. Knowing in her heart and soul that he was the only man she was ever destined to love. And she had even accepted that if he should never come back, or if he never returned her feelings, she would die untouched.

"About what?" she asked again. "Please, Logan?"

He met her eyes and they glinted in the moonlight, hinting of a longing that sent her heart racing faster.

"I have a problem," he finally managed.

"Problem? What sort of problem?" She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Tell me."

He averted his eyes again, looking anywhere but at her.

"I'm fucked up, Marie," he exclaimed suddenly, angrily, dragging a hand through his hair in exasperation, shaking his head as he did so. "I live a fucked up life and have a fucked up head.''

"Logan...don't..." Marie started to protest, but he continued to rage.

"And now it's even more fucked up because I can't get this beautiful, innocent, girl out of my mind. Young enough to be my daughter - hell, granddaughter for all I know - and who is far too good for the likes of me."

His eyes flicked back up to hers again, dark with torment and frustration. "Two years I've tried to block her from my mind, tried to reason with myself, the thousands of reasons why it can't possibly work." He swallowed again, shame flooding his face. "Then I suddenly see red, get so angry with the goddamn world that I almost kill a man in a cage fight..."

He stopped abruptly, and the silence felt almost painful around them.

Marie was lost for words, conflicting emotions rushing through her. Elation at what he was finally declaring, but a twisting ache inside at his turmoil.

"Logan," she said again, soothingly, comfortingly, a mere whisper.

"I'm so tired of fighting, Marie. So goddamn tired of searching. I need you, kid, I need your light...or else I'm head first into the darkness..."

He reached across with his other hand, seeking hers. "I know that Scott and the others will be against it all the way, but I can't live like this anymore." His eyes were filled with hope as he searched her face. "Say you want this too, Marie. Don't refuse me...please..." He hesitated before admitting. "I love you, darlin."

Marie stared down at their interlocked hands.

Mistaking this for doubt, Logan quickly added: "But I know you're still young...I can wait...if you're not ready…I can wait forever if it's what it takes…we can take it slow...get to know each other...start again..."

Marie looked across at him teasingly: "I'm nineteen, Logan. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm a woman."

A hint of a smile touched his lips and his face seemed to lighten as if any tension was ebbing away with her words. "Well, any man would be blind not to notice."

Marie felt as if she had fallen into a beautiful dream, a dream where all her desires were coming true. "Logan," she scolded gently, although her own voice was ragged with emotion. "How could you even think I would refuse you? I've loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you in that god-damn fighting cage in Laughlin City." She hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Of course, I was young back then and didn't know it was love exactly, and maybe it wasn't, but it has grown into something that resembles love." She shrugged. "I suppose it just needs time now."

His eyes glinted again but this time with happiness. And at that moment she had never seen him look quite so young and handsome. "So?" he dared. "We're in this together?"

Marie merely nodded and smiled, unable to find the words. Instead she slipped her hands from his, reached across for the dog tags that had lain forgotten in the middle of their outstretched arms, and slipped them back around her neck.

"For keeps," she whispered finally.