His Voice

Disclaimer: All the usual stuff. I don't own any of this, and I'm making no profit.

Rating: PG

Summary: Rogue thinks about why Logan left. Movieverse.

Author's Note: I've read so many stories where Rogue mopes around the mansion, wishing Logan would come back that I decided to take a slightly different approach to how Rogue feels at the end of the movie.

Feedback and Archiving: Archive wherever you want, just let me know before you do. Send all comments to addie_logan@yahoo.com.

His Voice

By: Addie Logan

People say if you hear voices in your head, you're crazy. I hear voices, but I don't think I'm crazy. If I am, the voices came before the insanity, not the other way around.

Wolverine. Logan. He's one of the voices in my head. There are other voices there, too, like David, the first boy I kissed, or those truck drivers I met on the way to Canada that got a little too friendly, and Magneto—but Logan's in the loudest. Sometimes he's practically screaming. It's in those times that I don't know where he ends and I begin. All his memories, his thoughts, are mine and I see the world the way he does.

The first time I ever saw him he was in a cage, fighting like no man I'd ever seen. My mind can be like a cage to him, and sometimes, he fights to get out.

That's when the nightmares come, and suddenly, I'm screaming, too.

Other times, Logan's voice is quiet, almost ashamed that he let me know the pain he knows. He wanted to hide it all from me. I'm his precious, innocent Marie—I never needed to see his darker side. But I've seen it now. How could I not? It's my darker side now, too.

There's one memory—one thought—that Logan wanted me to know the least. The last time we touched it was the only thought in his mind, and yet, I was never supposed to hear it. Even now the part of my mind that is more Logan than me tells me it isn't true.

But I know it's true.

I know why Logan ran.

I was dead in his arms, and he held me. He held me until he could ignite the single spark of life that was left in my body. He thought he'd lost me. He thought he'd lost the woman he loved.

The woman he loved.
I love you, Marie.

That was the last thought in Logan's mind before his world went dark and I could breathe again. He never wanted me to hear those words, but I did all the same. They were as clear in my mind as they must've been in his. And whether he allows himself to believe it or not, he knows I heard.

So he ran. He ran from me and the chance that someone might know all one can know about the Wolverine—and love him still. It's funny when I think about it, how a man like him could be scared enough of me to run away.

I haven't told anyone that I know why Logan ran—that it has nothing to do with what may or may not be up in Canada. And I'm sure the Professor either knows where Logan is or could find him easily, but I'll never ask. As I lay awake at night, clutching Logan's dogtags like a rosary and praying to whatever deity will listen, I think maybe it's better that he's gone.

If was here, all he'd have to do would be look into my eyes, and he'd know.

His voice is loud and clear in my head. Sometimes, he shouts so loudly that I cease to become myself.

I want to run from the truth, too.