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Description
You walk into the kitchen, intent on finally getting yourself a proper meal- you haven’t eaten anything substantial all day long because you had been far too occupied in seeing off the students who were going home for the holidays- but your plan is thrown out the window the instant you notice that you have company. Logan is already sitting at the counter, swigging a beer and going over some papers. You curse yourself for not checking to see if the room was occupied before barging in but now it is too late and you know that you will have to endure the casual conversation which is bound to ensue.

“Hey,” he greets, looking up at you as you walk over to the fridge and you raise a hand in acknowledgement, too tired to make the effort for anything else.

The truth is that you have been exhausted for a long time now; a month has gone by since Logan woke up remembering the events of a different timeline and nothing of the present one-one you have shared with him- and every single one of those days has drained you to an unimaginable extent.

You grab a yogurt tub and perch on a barstool across from him- maybe you can eat quick enough to get out of this situation unscathed, not that you have ever succeeded in that before. Put quite simply, you don’t know how to deal with the fact that the man you’ve married doesn’t remember your life together- in his memories you were friends and only that. You do not think you will ever get over the devastation you had felt in the moment when the Professor had summoned you to his study to tell you what had happened to your husband.

Logan jolts you out of your reverie with an observation that is more of a question.

“You wear a ring,” he notes, almost to himself, but the questioning gaze he directs at you tells you that this is something that has been bothering him for a while. The ring that matches the one on your hand- the ring he should be wearing- is on a chain around your neck and it burns against your skin as his eyes rest steadily on you. In that instant, you wish that you had been able to stop wearing yours but the mere thought of taking it off had caused you too much agony.

“Yes,” you answer and decide not to leave it at that, because you’re hoping to get some reaction out of him, even the briefest hint of your Logan “in this alternate timeline of yours, was I not married?”

“No,” he says- and is that jealousy you see flashing through his eyes?- “Who’s the lucky guy- do I know him?”

You can almost feel another crack being added to the fractured network already taking over your heart.

Will he ever remember you- your life together- or is it always going to be like this?

“I don’t think so- he’s not really around anymore,” you tell him, your heart wrenching because you know how close you are to the truth.

“Oh. I’m sorry ___, I didn’t mean to pry, I keep forgetting that you are not…” he trails off, ‘my closest friend’ is what he means to say.

Oh Logan, if only you knew.

“That’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” you tell him and that puts an end to your conversation on the topic.

You finish your meagre snack in a hurry to leave the room and Logan- being in his presence grates on your emotions more and more as the days pass. You suppose that this conversation has been useful though- for it has helped you make a decision and with that thought in mind you head towards the Professor’s study to inform him of it. You’re going to take a break, a year off to travel, be anywhere but here- because you are certain that spending more time with Logan will only break you further.

….

Your things are all packed and you are about to pick your bag up off your bed and walk out the door but as your gaze sweeps over the room one last time to see if you’ve forgotten anything, it lands on the solitary photo frame still sitting on the dresser.

No, don’t look at it. Walk away-

Your self-control is not what it once was though and you find yourself in front of the dresser with the damned picture in your hands. It is an old favourite of yours- taken just weeks before your wedding day- and as always the sunlit smiles sported by the pair of you, and the look in his eyes have you captivated. You had been so happy on that day.

“I thought you didn’t approve of running away,” the voice is coming from the open doorway behind you and it startles you out of your thoughts- you drop the frame as you realize who the speaker is. It takes you a while to force yourself to move again and then you are on your knees among the shards of glass, reaching for the photograph but he is already next to you and picking it up.

“Careful there darlin’,” he helps you up and his hand on your elbow is hesitant and barely there. You can feel his gaze on you but you refuse to look at him until you’re both on your feet again.

“I always liked this picture, that was a good day,” he looks at it with a smile that stays on his face even as he looks up at you and you are caught staring at him like a deer in the headlights. The expression on his face is one that you have missed over the past month- it is one of love. He looks at you as if he is truly seeing you for the first time, as if he never wants to look away.

“Logan?” you whisper, unable to ask him the question which had sprung into your mind the very moment when he had first spoken.

“Yeah, I remember everything,” he confirms your suspicions with just a shrug of his shoulders. You start to tremble all over and begin to back away from him, your arms starting to wind around your stomach as some kind of way to hold yourself together.

Your eyes fall closed- a feeble attempt to shut out the pain and the doubt- but reopen almost instantly to his hands tugging your arms away from your body; he has set aside the picture and taken one of your hands in both of his, and his lips pressed to your palm send a shiver down your spine. You let out a shaky breath and fight the urge to let your eyes slip shut again.

You want to ask him how but the words which come of your mouth instead reflect your feelings much better than such a demand would.

“I can’t go through that again,” you tell him, your voice still low and unsteady.

“I know-“ he begins before you cut him off.

“No, you don’t. Promise me Logan, never again. Promise me.”

“I do, I promise.” He looks at you as if expecting you to say something but you simply stand there and look back at him and he thinks that he can see uncertainty in your eyes- glossy with unshed tears. You think that you may start crying but you duck your head, swallow hard, and manage to overcome the urge. He pulls you into his arms in response- all hesitation in his actions melting away when you cling to him like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble against his chest, “I know it’s not your fault. I spoke to Charles, he said that we would all have died if you didn’t do what you did, and I know it cannot have been easy.”

He takes hold of your arms and pulls you away from him, just enough to be able to see your face.

“No, ____, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you felt and to think that I did that..” his voice breaks and he trails off before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I swore that I would never hurt you.”

“You didn’t know. It’s not your fault,” you tell him, cupping his face with one hand and letting the other rest on his chest. He leans into your touch, looking into your eyes with a smile that has your heart beating faster before his gaze is drawn to the chain around your neck.

You pull the ring out and are about to unclasp the chain but he beats you to it- he doesn’t put it on once he gets it off the chain though, instead holding it for a long moment before looking for your reaction.

“It’s yours. I’m not leaving you, Logan,” you reassure him and when he continues to look at you, you understand. You manage to keep your hand from shaking as you take the ring from him and slip it back onto his finger- you feel sure that your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

“I love you,” he says- taking your hands in his, and the realization of how much you have missed this, missed him, takes your breath away.

“And I love you,” you reply.

Description
You walk into the kitchen, intent on finally getting yourself a proper meal- you haven’t eaten anything substantial all day long because you had been far too occupied in seeing off the students who were going home for the holidays- but your plan is thrown out the window the instant you notice that you have company. Logan is already sitting at the counter, swigging a beer and going over some papers. You curse yourself for not checking to see if the room was occupied before barging in but now it is too late and you know that you will have to endure the casual conversation which is bound to ensue.

“Hey,” he greets, looking up at you as you walk over to the fridge and you raise a hand in acknowledgement, too tired to make the effort for anything else.

The truth is that you have been exhausted for a long time now; a month has gone by since Logan woke up remembering the events of a different timeline and nothing of the present one-one you have shared with him- and every single one of those days has drained you to an unimaginable extent.

You grab a yogurt tub and perch on a barstool across from him- maybe you can eat quick enough to get out of this situation unscathed, not that you have ever succeeded in that before. Put quite simply, you don’t know how to deal with the fact that the man you’ve married doesn’t remember your life together- in his memories you were friends and only that. You do not think you will ever get over the devastation you had felt in the moment when the Professor had summoned you to his study to tell you what had happened to your husband.

Logan jolts you out of your reverie with an observation that is more of a question.

“You wear a ring,” he notes, almost to himself, but the questioning gaze he directs at you tells you that this is something that has been bothering him for a while. The ring that matches the one on your hand- the ring he should be wearing- is on a chain around your neck and it burns against your skin as his eyes rest steadily on you. In that instant, you wish that you had been able to stop wearing yours but the mere thought of taking it off had caused you too much agony.

“Yes,” you answer and decide not to leave it at that, because you’re hoping to get some reaction out of him, even the briefest hint of your Logan “in this alternate timeline of yours, was I not married?”

“No,” he says- and is that jealousy you see flashing through his eyes?- “Who’s the lucky guy- do I know him?”

You can almost feel another crack being added to the fractured network already taking over your heart.

Will he ever remember you- your life together- or is it always going to be like this?

“I don’t think so- he’s not really around anymore,” you tell him, your heart wrenching because you know how close you are to the truth.

“Oh. I’m sorry ___, I didn’t mean to pry, I keep forgetting that you are not…” he trails off, ‘my closest friend’ is what he means to say.

Oh Logan, if only you knew.

“That’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” you tell him and that puts an end to your conversation on the topic.

You finish your meagre snack in a hurry to leave the room and Logan- being in his presence grates on your emotions more and more as the days pass. You suppose that this conversation has been useful though- for it has helped you make a decision and with that thought in mind you head towards the Professor’s study to inform him of it. You’re going to take a break, a year off to travel, be anywhere but here- because you are certain that spending more time with Logan will only break you further.

….

Your things are all packed and you are about to pick your bag up off your bed and walk out the door but as your gaze sweeps over the room one last time to see if you’ve forgotten anything, it lands on the solitary photo frame still sitting on the dresser.

No, don’t look at it. Walk away-

Your self-control is not what it once was though and you find yourself in front of the dresser with the damned picture in your hands. It is an old favourite of yours- taken just weeks before your wedding day- and as always the sunlit smiles sported by the pair of you, and the look in his eyes have you captivated. You had been so happy on that day.

“I thought you didn’t approve of running away,” the voice is coming from the open doorway behind you and it startles you out of your thoughts- you drop the frame as you realize who the speaker is. It takes you a while to force yourself to move again and then you are on your knees among the shards of glass, reaching for the photograph but he is already next to you and picking it up.

“Careful there darlin’,” he helps you up and his hand on your elbow is hesitant and barely there. You can feel his gaze on you but you refuse to look at him until you’re both on your feet again.

“I always liked this picture, that was a good day,” he looks at it with a smile that stays on his face even as he looks up at you and you are caught staring at him like a deer in the headlights. The expression on his face is one that you have missed over the past month- it is one of love. He looks at you as if he is truly seeing you for the first time, as if he never wants to look away.

“Logan?” you whisper, unable to ask him the question which had sprung into your mind the very moment when he had first spoken.

“Yeah, I remember everything,” he confirms your suspicions with just a shrug of his shoulders. You start to tremble all over and begin to back away from him, your arms starting to wind around your stomach as some kind of way to hold yourself together.

Your eyes fall closed- a feeble attempt to shut out the pain and the doubt- but reopen almost instantly to his hands tugging your arms away from your body; he has set aside the picture and taken one of your hands in both of his, and his lips pressed to your palm send a shiver down your spine. You let out a shaky breath and fight the urge to let your eyes slip shut again.

You want to ask him how but the words which come of your mouth instead reflect your feelings much better than such a demand would.

“I can’t go through that again,” you tell him, your voice still low and unsteady.

“I know-“ he begins before you cut him off.

“No, you don’t. Promise me Logan, never again. Promise me.”

“I do, I promise.” He looks at you as if expecting you to say something but you simply stand there and look back at him and he thinks that he can see uncertainty in your eyes- glossy with unshed tears. You think that you may start crying but you duck your head, swallow hard, and manage to overcome the urge. He pulls you into his arms in response- all hesitation in his actions melting away when you cling to him like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble against his chest, “I know it’s not your fault. I spoke to Charles, he said that we would all have died if you didn’t do what you did, and I know it cannot have been easy.”

He takes hold of your arms and pulls you away from him, just enough to be able to see your face.

“No, ____, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you felt and to think that I did that..” his voice breaks and he trails off before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I swore that I would never hurt you.”

“You didn’t know. It’s not your fault,” you tell him, cupping his face with one hand and letting the other rest on his chest. He leans into your touch, looking into your eyes with a smile that has your heart beating faster before his gaze is drawn to the chain around your neck.

You pull the ring out and are about to unclasp the chain but he beats you to it- he doesn’t put it on once he gets it off the chain though, instead holding it for a long moment before looking for your reaction.

“It’s yours. I’m not leaving you, Logan,” you reassure him and when he continues to look at you, you understand. You manage to keep your hand from shaking as you take the ring from him and slip it back onto his finger- you feel sure that your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

“I love you,” he says- taking your hands in his, and the realization of how much you have missed this, missed him, takes your breath away.

“And I love you,” you reply.