There were times when she was sure that their relationship—if a person could call a woman who couldn't touch and a flirty Cajun who didn't know what was good for him a relationship—was over. They would fight. Huge blowups that were often started over something trivial but always ended up being about her fear of her powers or his past transgressions. They would say horrible things to one another and he would always slam the door and storm out. She would always wonder, as she saw his retreating form getting on his motorcycle, if this was it. Would this be the last time she would see him? Would this be the end to the toxic cycle that they had going on? She would then sit on her bed and cry—cry about her past, her powers, but mostly about him and how she longed for them to be together. She would give anything to kiss that Cajun without killing him—anything at all. It was usually after a few hours of crying that he would reappear, always startling her. He would always be sitting on the window sill that she kept opened looking as casual as ever. She would wipe her tears away and they would stare at each other for quite awhile, almost as if they were looking for a promise in the other person's eyes that this wouldn't happen again. Finally, they would both apologize and then he would hold her. He would reassure her that her powers didn't matter to him and she would tell him that she would try to be braver when it came to her powers.
When they weren't fighting, it was bliss. For her, it was the most thrilling experience that she had ever had. This love—she was sure that was what this feeling was—was her whole life now. Gone were the days of hiding from people and covering herself up from head to toe. While she was still careful, she felt braver with him. With him, she could do anything she wanted to. He made her feel special and safe. He had showed her that there were people who did care about her—not her powers. He had told her things that she had never heard before, like how he loved her. Her family had never even said that to her. He opened her eyes to a world where she could be herself, Anna Marie, and not the Rogue. As for him, their love was his saving grace. He knew he had made a hell of a lot of bad calls and he had done things that still haunted him today. The guilt consumed him every day, except for those moments when he would see her. He could stare at those emerald eyes forever and her smile—well, let's just say that he loved every part of her. As for the matter of her skin, he wasn't worried. He knew a lot of people had run the other way upon encountering her, but he couldn't turn away. There was something about her that pulled him towards her. Maybe it was her beautiful southern accent or the curious white stripe in her hair, but all in all, he couldn't leave her even if he wanted too.
Most of the others in the mansion never quite understood their odd love. Some remarked that it would never last since a relationship could never last without physical contact. They would never be able to have a family or even kiss. How could a relationship last when one kiss could kill him? A few also said that they wouldn't last because they couldn't let go of the past. He would always have blood on his hands and she would never lose the voices that constantly spoke in her head. Two screwed up people—such as them—wouldn't make it. There was no way that they could never fully trust each other. They would love, yes, but with their guards up.
However, a few people saw their love for what it was—flawed, but so pure. True, they each had their problems, but when they were together they overcame them. There was also pain in their love, but there was pain in every relationship. The thing was that no matter how much pain they caused to each other, they couldn't turn away. They loved each other way too much for that. Life wasn't a fairytale—people didn't always get happy endings. They knew that and yet they didn't care. The odds weren't in their favor, but they still kept playing their hand. That was what made their love so pure. Fate hadn't smile upon these two—the Joker and the Queen—and yet, they still were together. Their love broke all the rules and they didn't care. That's what true love was. Loving another person entirely even if it goes against everything the universe dictates.
He watched them from a distance and smiled as much as a scarred man like him could. Their love reminded him of another time—of another life. He had been in love like this with Mariko. In their case, fate cursed the both of them and destroyed their love. That's why he watched them. For the man known as Wolverine knew that this couple would need all the help they could get—and he would give it to them. He would not let history repeat itself with them.
A gust of wind blew through the front yard of the mansion and Wolverine took this as his cue to exit. Taking one last look at them, he saw Mariko's face before him. Love wasn't kind—it hurt like hell—but if you could get past all the pain, you could find true happiness and Wolverine was sure that this couple had it.
"The Joker and the Queen," He muttered, heading towards his bike. "Who'da believed it?"
The sound of his bike echoed through the silent front yard and the young couple looked at him. She smiled brightly and he gave Wolverine a sarcastic grin.
"God help me," He chuckled darkly.
And then the Wolverine left.