Title: Night's Falling
Author: Diebin
Email: diebin@hotmail.com
Fandom: X-Men (movie)
Rating: R
Series: Compass Points #11  http://www.geocities.com/mistressdiebin/compasspoints
Setting: 2 years post movie
Category: Logan POV
Pairing: Logan/Rogue
Archive: With the rest of the series
Notes: Only two more to go!

I'm usually not exactly the sweet romantic type. I've gone back to a few apartments in my day for a roll around the hay, and the evening usually follows a distinct pattern. We undress, we have sex, and we sleep. It's not that I don't appreciate the company--but the kind of women who bring a mutant cage fighter home aren't always the chit chat type. And besides--I'm usually tired after a long fight and a little tumble.

I'm not feeling so good. Well, maybe that's not right. I'm feeling god damn excellent--I've got an armful of passionate, beautiful woman, I just got to make love to the only person I can remember who I've cared about more than myself--but I'm still not feeling that good.

My bones hurt. My head aches. I almost feel kind of weak--like I had the flu or something. But I don't get sick--so it can't be that.

I was worried it was Marie--no one is quite sure what is happening with her powers. I even detached myself from the tangle of her arms and those damn fine legs, stood up on shaking feet and went to the bathroom to get some water.

It wasn't her, because I still felt like shit. And that scares me.

Marie is curled up beside me, one small hand resting over my heart, and her legs tangled with mine. The way her lips are slightly parted, the way she's breathing on my chest and curling up around my body . . . everything is making me wish I had the heart to wake her up and go at it another time or three.

Damn she's gotten in my blood. But she's gonna be sore enough as it is--damn girl wouldn't let me keep control, and I'm afraid I got a little wild on her. She just smiled though, when I tried to apologize, and made me promise to do it again.

I'll never understand her.

I've been awake the whole night, watching her sleep. It's not just because I don't feel so good . . . but I've got this sick feeling in my stomach. Like something's going to happen. I don't want to sleep or even blink, because I've got this strange feeling that our time is numbered.

Don't know why. She's young and healthy, and I'm sure as hell not getting sickly. But I can't help thinking that something is going to go wrong . . .

Maybe I've just gotten all sentimental in my old age. Maybe I just want to watch my girl sleep, and I'm making up all kinds of excuses so I won't have to face the facts.

And the fact is--she owns me. This little chit of a girl has me so wrapped around her little finger that I don't know which way is up. That sure the hell isn't the way I had things planned . . .

Sick thing is, I don't think I'd change 'em. God only knows who or what I am. . . but against all probability . . . I've found love.

And if that ain't the least manly thought I've ever had.

Kind of makes me want to wake her up and prove how manly I can be.

But night has fallen, and the world is asleep, and my girl is asleep too.

I can't believe I just thought that. What the hell do I think I am now? A fucking poet? I suppose I'm going to start writing her sonnets next. I'll be a geek like one-eye before I know it. That's a depressing thought.

Night is falling. I kind of like it, though. It describes a lot. It describes her hair, when it falls over my face when she propped herself up on her elbows and kissed me. It described the look in her dark eyes when she stared up at me with so much damn love I wanted to hide from it.

I guess it describes me. I don't know how--but it kinda seems to fit. Night. And she's my day--which is about the corniest thing I've ever said in my life. I'm just going to blame it all on the fever . . .

Fever. I do have a fever, now that I think of it. That's certainly strange. I don't think I've ever had one before . . . but I feel like I do now.

Maybe I should go wake up Jean. But she'll take one look at me, and know what has happened . . . and I'd rather hold on just a little while longer before I start getting the Sick Old Man, How Could You lectures.

I'll just hold onto Marie. Maybe close my eyes for a bit, get some rest. When I wake up I bet she'll be feeling a little better . . . maybe I can show her a few things we missed out on the first time around.

Night is falling--but doesn't that just mean it's a long time before dawn?

Night's falling. I'm falling. Night.