Title: Do What You Have to Do (companion piece to "I Love You")|
Fandom: X-Men (movie)
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and extremely mild sexuality. This is Logan's POV, after all.
Summary: Logan deals with his feelings for Rogue.
Disclaimer: The usual stuff: the characters, settings, and song lyrics do not belong to me.
Archive: Pretty much anyone who asks.
What ravages of spirit conjured this temptuous rage
I do what I have to do to keep myself focused on the task at hand. I press the little red button on this fun little bike and force myself to bear the wind and snow clawing at my skin, even through my clothes. Once I settle down for the night in a dingy motel like a hundred others that I've stayed in, I guzzle scalding hot coffee, cringing as my throat burns for a moment--then the tissue heals. Just like my frostbitten skin. Then there's nothing to think about except for what's in my head. And that scares the hell out of me.
For a week or so, I kept seeing a tall woman with red hair and a pretty figure. Jean. Then she began to fade, her image replaced by one that has not faded one bit, no matter how many ways I try to injure myself. Marie. But she was just a girl... Not for long said the bestial monster in my head who still visits me from time to time. Yet I've found that that monster has grown less vicious, less insistant on having his way. Someone is breaking him down and I think I know who it is.
And I have the sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go
I relish the feeling of hope that warms me sometimes. I hope that she'll be happy to see me when I go back. Yep, somewhere along the way, "if" changed to "when." I hope that she feels at least a little like I do. I hope she loves me. Well, shit... When did I get so damned soft? And I smile a little to myself, on the bike, in a crowded diner, or just in the dark during those moments when I'm drifting between sleep and awake. It feels good being soft and thinking about such a sweet girl being in love with me. And it feels good loving her back.
Some days, my eyes play tricks on me. I'll see a woman with brown hair and I'll inhale sharply, trying to catch her smell, as if she might be Rogue and she found me somehow. That nameless woman always turns around, though, and I always think that she couldn't hold a candle to Marie. Even when I'm not thinking that I see her, I know that I feel her. If I'm speeding recklessly on a frozen mountain road, I can feel her wise brown eyes berating me for putting myself in danger. Slow down she says.
Slow down... What the hell am I thinking about? The idea of her loving me is a nice delusion, but that's what it is...a delusion. But I just can't stop myself. Every day that passes increases my desire to just be near her. To be where she is.
At least I know I'm being an ass. Yet knowing I'm an ass doesn't make it any easier to quit being one. And I don't want to quit if it means that I have to shut her out of my head. I like that she's there, making me civilized...making me a man instead of an animal.
Making me hate myself less and less each day.
A glowing ember burning hot burning slow
Damn it, this is getting out of hand. I had a dream last night. Not a nightmare, a real dream, the likes of which I haven't had for as long as I can remember. I was alone, sitting in a dimly lit restaurant with peeling paint and scarred wooden tables and chairs. The door opened and Marie walked in. She smiled at me like I should've been expecting her. Oh, her smile... It was just for me. Then she sat across from me and took my hand in hers. The restaurant melted away and we were in bed, making love like two people whose souls were as wrapped around each other as their bodies.
I woke up with a start, the tightness within me fading away as I focused my blurry vision on my real surroundings. I was in bed alone. Suddenly, I felt violently sick. I knew that I could never make love to her. I couldn't even kiss her, not unless I wanted to be dead. And for a second, that's what I wished. Death would be a welcome alternative to being so close yet so far away. Then I remembered that I wouldn't be able to see her face or smell her as she walked past me or press her body against my own whenever she was sad.
Sighing, I wake myself up all the way, preparing for a long ride southward. I know I can't be with her like I want to, so I'll just be content with being close. I'll do whatever I have to so that she knows I love her.