Almost forgot the legal disclaimer part...don't own them, wish I did, but gonna make them jump through hoops anyway.

Summary: After X3, Rogue took the cure, and Logan has to heal. Rogue decides to live her life, and it leads her on an adventure of discovery and pain until she finds her way home.

CHAPTER 1

Rogue watched as the new students filled the entrance of the school. So many this year, and Logan was staying to help. She put another shirt in the old green duffle bag. He was staying, but he needed to go, needed to escape from this place, to find some peace.

He hadn't spoken to her since he got back, he'd taken one look at her holding Bobby's hand and grunted and spun on his heel and walked away. She wanted to stop him, but something in his eyes told her it would be dangerous.

She added another pair of jeans, and was trying to decide if she wanted to pack the long winter dresses or not. She picked up one and started folding it when her door swung open.

"You runnin again?" He leaned on the door jam, the first words out of his mouth a twisted mockery of the words she'd said to him.

"No. Ah got accepted at NYU, Ah start classes tomorrow, Ah've put it off long enough." She brushed her hair back with a bare hand, still afraid of even a casual touch, even though she knew that the Cure made it possible.

"You could take your classes here." He said, pushing off the door jam with his shoulder, fingers hitched just inside the tight pockets of his jeans. His boot heel caught the door and she watched, not sure what to feel as it swung closed.

"Ah'm a freshman, tha school requires freshmen ta live on campus in housing." She looked down at the dress she was folding. She could smell it now, whiskey and a lot of it, and something else, even stronger. She knew his body could handle it, but if he was resorting to some kind of drugs to escape from Jean's death, it had to be bad.

His finger traced down her wrinkled nose. "It's absinthe." He whispered, leaning in close to her. It smelled bitter, just like the look in his eyes when she met them. "I can't protect you if you're in New York." His breath was hot on her ear as he whispered the words, making her tremble.

"Ah don't need ya ta protect me anymore. Ah'm just human again, and Ah can take care of mahself thanks ta tranin' here." She stuffed the dress in the bag and reached to pick up the other one but he caught her hand in his, putting her fingertips over where his blades rested just under the skin.

"You'll always need me ta protect you." His lips were brushing her ear now as she felt the raw power under her fingertips, poised to strike, but held in check by his desire not to hurt her. At least she had to think that was what it was. She looked over his shoulder, trying to keep her body still, feeling like an animal in a trap with a predator stalking closer and unable to escape.

"Ya smell like fear, Marie...what are ya afraid of, not me I hope." His whisper was more a growl, as he moved his other arm around her waist, pulling her against his body, the one her fingers rested on capturing her hand and putting it over his heart.

"No, Ah ain't afraid of you. Ah'm afraid for you." She finally looked at him, and she didn't hide the pain at his reaction. He'd seen it, the pity she felt. She was surprised at his anger, his nose flaring as the hand pressing hers against him moved faster than she'd expected, grabbing the hair at the back of her head, tilting it as his mouth landed on hers demandingly. She moaned, wanting this more than anything, but not like this.

"I need you, Rogue." He whispered, his lips trembling.

"No, you need a warm body ta try ta forget." She whispered against his lips. "Ya need ta go, get back on the road, forget in whatever warm willin' body you can find and someday realize that it ain't tha end of tha world."

"Then I'll start with you." His eyes grew hard and his mouth demanding. She moaned again, her body responding even if her mind knew it was wrong. She tried one more time.

"Logan, please, you don't want ta do this." She whimpered as his grip on her hair tightened and her body overcame her mind's objections. She kissed him back, her fingers working quickly to unbutton his shirt, slipping her hands under the fabric, feeling the coarse hair of his chest against her skin for the first time. His hand in her hair eased, and he turned them both and eased her down on the bed, the bag and pile of clean clothes waiting to be packed forgotten. His hands, now free of her hair, roamed up under the knit shirt she was wearing, teasing her nipples through the lace bra she was wearing.

"Logan." She moaned his name, knowing this would be quick and dirty and he would regret it in the morning. She didn't care, not at this point. She was human, she could touch and he was the only man she wanted. The barely rational part of her mind reasoned that if he regretted it maybe he would hit the road again, find his own way to peace, just like she planned on doing.

That was the last rational thought as she heard the distinctive sound of his claws and wrote off the outfit she was wearing to rags. She was quickly naked under his body, the flannel shirt still clinging to his shoulders and back, hanging down on the sides over her like a small tent as his mouth moved to her breasts, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place, as if he was afraid she would run off. She moaned, finally lacing her fingers through his thick dark hair, moaning at the silky sensation on her fingers as he nipped at her nipples with intensity, causing her to cry out in protest, although the pain only added to her arousal.

She barely felt him unfasten his belt and jeans, but she whimpered at the feel of the denim against the inside of her thighs as his hands gripped her hips, urging her to raise them up to meet him as he thrust deep inside her. She cried out again, and again it wasn't that the pain interrupted, more heightened the pleasure coursing through her body. Her hands were clawing at the fabric on his back, wanting to feel skin, wanting to feel him not the shirt, but he growled against her neck as he pulled back and thrust deep inside her again, and she cried "LOGAN!" against his neck, pleading with one word for him to let her touch him.

He continued to thrust against her, urging her hips into a position that allowed her clit to be stimulated by his movements, sending her coursing through a rapidly building climax. She shuddered, her body trembling under him, but he didn't even change pace, and she felt herself building quickly to another roaring climax. This time she screamed,

"LOGAN!"

"JEAN!" he roared as he collapsed on top of her, and she couldn't stop the tears falling from her eyes. She knew it, knew this was what he needed, needed to be able to be with someone while thinking of HER, but it still hurt, knowing how much she loved him, how much she needed him, to know that even with her, Marie, he was still thinking of Jean.

He rolled off her body, and onto the floor. She was startled by a snore, and she rolled over to look at him. He was passed out. She wanted to kick him, wanted to scream, wanted to drive his own damned blades through his damned metal coated skull, but all she did, is move quietly to the bathroom, clean herself up and pick up the bag and scattered clothes, just throwing them on top. He needed to leave. If he stayed here he would always pine for Jean. If he felt guilty over this, maybe he'd leave, maybe he'd find peace, maybe he would find her, when he was ready for what she had to offer.

She threw on a clean pair of panties and a bra, leaving her shredded clothes on the bed. Let him make of them what he would. She grabbed jeans and another knit top and pulled them on, slipped on her last pair of shoes that were not packed, and picked up the loaded green bag. She pulled the gold chain from around her neck, a locket he'd sent her from up north on his trip hanging from it. Inside was a picture of the two of them, when he'd taken her to the mall to buy some things she needed. She was in her green duster and he was wearing the same flannel shirt he had on now. She dropped it in his open hand.

"Ah'll be back for that. Ah promise."

She turned and opened the door, closing it quietly behind her.

No one saw her leave, and the cab was waiting at the end of the driveway just like she'd asked. She had her classes to concentrate on, and he had to learn to live.