Memories never truly disappear, they just fade away for a while and come back to us when they're needed the most.

-Anonymous

Logan handed me a steamy cup of Joe. The warmth felt oddly pleasant on my skin. I made room for him on our grey tattered couch which we'd broken in a couple of months earlier. When we first arrived, it smelled like wet dog, so Logan bought two spray cans of Lysol, and we had a Field day.

He sprawled out his legs and rested them on my upper thighs. "Pass me the remote, will ya kiddo?" I lightly tossed it, and he caught it with ease. He skimmed through the channels, commenting recklessly on each different program.

I blew off his commentary, for I was too entranced with his lips, and the way they complimented his face. I loved his eyes and the way they wrinkled up at the corners whenever he smiled. I loved the way his forehead scrunched when he was deep in thought.

"Earth to Julie..." Logan brushed my shoulder with his fingers. "Hey, is anybody home?" He picked up a crumpled piece of paper off the carpet and chucked it at my head. That stopped my ogling, I turned, embarrassed for being caught in the act. Logan smirked and continued flipping through the stations.

"Doyouloveme." I blurted, leaving no space between my words. What a stupid question. Hopefully, he hadn't heard me.

To my dismay, Logan looked up from the television. "What?"

Shot, this would not go well. I bit my lower lip, trying for as long as possible to avoid the question. Way to spoil the evening, Julie. I was such an idiot. Me and my big blabber mouth. He would never let me live this down.

I smiled nonchalantly. "Never mind." Logan frowned and turned off the television.

He moved closer. "No, tell me what you said."

"It really doesn't matter..."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"...How about now?"

"Not a chance."

And the tickling began, just as I knew it would. When I said it would be a rough night, I meant it. By the time he'd finished, my ribcage burned from laughing. Tickling was his secret weapon, and he knew how to use it.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you." I screamed, and he immediately stopped, pulling my onto his lap.

"Yay!" He grinned stupidly, which made me burst out into a fit of giggles once again. His tactics were totally unfair, along with his maturity level.

"You looked...so stupid...just a second...ago," I huffed, trying to fill my lungs with air.

"Don't you dare try to change the damn subject." He growled mockingly, tugging at my ponytail. My stomach churned in a sickly fashion.

"Well...do you really want to know?" Logan pinched my cheek, and I yelped in shock. He would never give up, which was both an annoying, but sensitive quality he had.

"What do you think?" He chuckled, both of his arms safely entwined around my waist. The way it should be.

I paused for a moment, and then took a deep breath to clam my nerves. "Do you love me?"

As I'd guessed, he didn't answer right away. It truly was a deep question, and the response should be well thought-out. Logan's face was almost a grimace, as if he smelled something horrible.

Minutes passed, and he continued to stare off into space while I had an anxiety attack. I internaly cursed myself and cited all the bad names I could think of; Loser, Jerk, Shit-bag, Ass hole, Dick head...

"Yes." Logan interrupted the pity train, and my heart beat faster. "Yes, I love you."

And that's how things went on. It wasn't a sensual relationship. It was unexplainable. We were two halves of a whole. Together, we moved closer to New York City and bought a secluded little condo in Rochester, right off the coast of Lake Ontario. He posed as my father, and we took on the last name 'Smith'. Logan did his best to stay low key, while I attended public school.

When puberty hit, and high school arrived, hormones got the best of me. I'd never had a motherly influence, so Logan, knowing practically nothing about women, promised to take me shopping for 'necesscities' more often. Those frequent trips to Walmart were often awkward.

"I'm suppose your gonna need a box of these?" Logan laughed, poking at a box of tampons on the shelf. I blushed a feverish shade of violet, ignoring his teasing.

"Oh," I smiled, mocking him back, "And I suppose you're going to need a box of these." I giggled, handing him a packet of condoms. He smirked in defeat and backed away to give me space.

As head of the house, I made dinner, which was often beans in a can or cold fish sticks. I had to hand it to him, he had a stomach of steel, literally.

My first year of high school, I caught the flu and was bedridden for over two weeks. Logan was a nervous wreck and spent most of his time cursing. But he made a mean chicken noodle soup... even if it was from a can.

In late February the following year, we found Professor Xavier. Actually, he found us. We spent the next year with him. I attended classes, while Logan went out on missions. We were almost, in a sense, happy to be together. But duty called, and he left, disappearing from my life for years at a time.

Until, finally, he came back. Of course I'd grown up angry with him, but he soon changed my mind. I fell in love again, just as I'd done a long time ago.

So that's our story, cheesy as it may be, but suttle to say the least. That's why I have to help him. It's almost like a debt to pay, because I owe him... for everything.

I would stop at nothing, to safe him.

Nothing.

*** I've come back from the dead! YES! It's been the longest time since I updated. Review, as always and tell me what you guys think. A new chapter is on it's way so BE PREPEARED.

Thanks for all the support.

-Carolyn