Logan walked down the hall. The mansion was silent to everyone, everyone without super hearing. It wasn't the sound that kept him up, it was the sadness he sensed from her all day. He meant to talk to her about it earlier, but she disappeared. She held it together during the day, but now, close to one a.m., she was in her room sobbing into her pillow. So hard, she couldn't stop.

Logan opened the door and walked in uninvited. He didn't need an invitation. It was one of the things about her that made him so comfortable. She sat up in bed. She didn't try to hide her tears. She reached for one of the many crumbled used tissues on the floor.

"What is it?" he said sitting down on the bed beside her. She buried her head in his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. "This isn't how girls celebrate their twenty-first birthday," he said.

"I'm not most girls," she said.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I just did," she said. He didn't answer. He waited for her to continue. "I'll never have a normal life, a normal relationship. The older I get the more obvious it is, that's all."

His hand touched the back of her head and stroked her dark hair that fell several inches past her shoulders.

"I had a chance. And I blew it," she said.

He pulled her face back from his chest and stared at her. She wanted to look away, but he held her gaze. He was intense. Two years ago she wouldn't have been able to stare back at him. Two years ago she wouldn't have explained. She would have been too shy, too embarrassed. Things were changing.

"I had four weeks. After I took the cure, I could touch for four weeks without hurting anyone." Logan looked at the wall. "I could have had sex. I wouldn't still be a virgin. I had a chance," she said.

"And why didn't you?" he asked.

"Bobby was my boyfriend. I thought he would be my first, but he was completely freaked out by the whole thing and moving on to Kitty. I thought I had all kinds of time. I didn't know I would wake up one morning and it would be gone or I would have…done something. Different."

She was crying over a loss, a taste of a normal life she sampled, but didn't get to take home. She was also crying over the loss of her family, both her families. She had settled in at Xavier and gotten attached to people and the school, only to lose Jean and Scott. Logan knew all this without her saying it. He also knew, in a way, she had lost him. He couldn't be there for her after killing Jean. He maintained some contact, but stayed gone.

"You ever talk to Storm about this?" Logan asked.

"Once. She said, 'Sex? Overrated. You're not missing much'," Rogue said and smiled at him. "She believes it. But I know better. I have other people's memories. They wouldn't be so strong if it weren't special…in some ways."

She felt comfortable having this conversation with Logan. She couldn't have said these things a year ago. She was honest about her feelings, and Logan wasn't judgmental. Never has been. Protective of her, yes, but not judgmental.

"You're gaining control," he said. His hand brushed a lock of hair out of her face and his fingers touched her skin.

"Don't," she said and pulled away from his arms. "I can't when I'm upset. It's too hard." If she concentrated, she could fight her mutation for a couple of seconds. She had to focus. It was exhausting. She didn't feel like it was any kind of an accomplishment.

She still covered herself with long sleeves and gloves. Logan was the only person who made her take them off. He moved back into the mansion a few months ago. He still left sometimes for days, but he was working with the team, now led by Storm and Hank. Charles was present in a new body. That was odd, but people adjusted. Rogue thought back to a day a month ago in the garage. Rogue was watching him work on his bike, waiting for him to fix it, hoping he would ask her to go for a ride.

"Get me a beer, will you?" Logan asked.

She pulled one out of the cooler and popped the tab. He took it from her. Then, annoyed, he grabbed her hands and pulled off her gloves. He threw them down. "Will you get rid of these?" he said.

"I have to have them," she said.

He grabbed her hand and held it. He stared at her. Two seconds passed and she started to pull on his power. He let go. "No. You don't," he said.

"I'm not as dangerous to you. Incidental contact won't kill you. With the others, it might," she said.

"Don't wear them around me," he yelled. Then, he picked up something he was working on, something he had apart, that didn't appear to be going back together right. He calmed down and said, "I didn't mean to sound like that. It's just, when we're alone, you don't need them." He was looking at her. She nodded.

"I just…I haven't made any more progress. Feels like I'm holding my breath and no matter how hard I try, I can only hold it so long," she said. Her voice quivered when she said the last part.

"You think…maybe," he looked at her, "maybe you shouldn't try to stop it." She was several feet away but staring at him. "Maybe, you could work on turning it down," he said. "It's not a bad thing—the way you connect. I like knowing if you're hurt, I can share my healing. And I could touch you, without going into a coma, if it were turned down a notch. There's a way to do it." He continued working. He spoke as if it were a fact. She supposed it was a fact, to him.

She sat on the bed beside him now, wishing she had that power, wishing she could turn it down. Turn it down enough for him to touch her face without hurting. They were quiet. Both looking forward. She heard his voice. "I could have sex with you," he said. She looked at him. He paused, then said, "If that's what's bothering you…If that's what you're wanting…and you're sure you're ready and all."

"I'm ready," she said.

He laughed. "No, you're not ready." He held a tissue to her nose. "You're snotty."

She took the tissue and blew her nose. "Women I have sex with don't cry," he said.

"They do when you leave," she said.

"They cry more when I stay," he said. She laughed and dried her eyes.

"But when you're ready…" he didn't finish the sentence. Rogue felt her face and chest blush. She knew he could see it in the dark. She didn't care. She also knew he could see the big smile that she couldn't get off her face. She tried to look straight ahead and nod, like yeah, OK, I'm talking to Wolverine about having sex with him like we're talking about going to the movies. This is a completely normal adult conversation, she told herself.

"You think you could give me eight seconds?" he asked.

"Eight seconds?" she said.

"Yeah, dial it down enough, for me to have eight seconds to touch you," he said.

"Eight seconds?" she said.

"Can be an eternity. Ask any bull rider," he said.

"Well, I can work on that, I guess…but wouldn't it be better if you wore a condom?" she asked.

He started laughing. "I can be fast, Doll, but I ain't that fast."

"Oh," she said. She was embarrassed, but then again, how was she suppose to know what he was talking about. He asked for eight seconds.

"I'll wear a condom," he said. "And go longer than eight seconds."

"What's the eight seconds for?" she asked. He put his arm around her and pulled her in close. He leaned over and spoke in her ear. "So I can go down on you," he said.

"Oh," she said. "And that's…"

"I can stop for a second and restart, but yeah, that's enough time. More than enough. Make your toes curl. Hear you say my name."

She suddenly felt warm and tingly inside. She took a deep breath and the muscles inside her lower body tightened. She heard him sniff. She scooted back on the bed.

"Will you stay with me until I'm asleep?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. He took off his shoes and got in bed. He propped a pillow up behind him and sat leaning back against the headboard. She rolled on her side close to him, and laid her head on his thigh and her hand on his knee. An intimate but fitting gesture. He ran his fingers through her hair.

"Happy Birthday," he said.

He felt her smile. "Thanks," she said. "You know, you can sleep here…if you want."

He didn't answer at first, and then he said, "I'm dangerous…when I'm asleep."

"Not to me," she said.

He stroked her hair. "I'll stay until you're asleep."

After a minute, she said, "You think it would be weird…between us, if we had sex?"

"No," he said.

"You wouldn't see me differently?" she asked.

"I would be seeing a whole lot of you differently," he said.

"But would that…nevermind," she said. She was sleepy.

"It would change things, Marie," he said, "but don't worry about it now."

She didn't.