Disclaimer: Nope don't own anything here except the story itself. It's the thoughts and memories of one of those present at Logan's wedding in Wolverine #126. I know I've messed up continuity and established timeline but that's real easy to do when you don't know it yourself. First off, this is in response to Northlight's challenge, the strangest relationship I could think of. First time I've ever written something like this, so don't flame. Also a warning I drank 3 liters of Surge in one hour, then wrote this, I still can't believe it. It's serious, but I still can't believe it. One more thing, no explicit scenes just one kiss and some hinting but some people may still be queasy over it. You're forewarned. I'd say more but it might give away the whole story *grin*.

By Shera Crawler 007

Do you Logan take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? The question burned into my brain. Do you Logan take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? It kept repeating itself until I thought I would go insane. Insanity might be an improvement; many thought I already was, but a corner of my brain was still lucid...barely. That part had stayed sane because of Logan, but now that link to reality was slipping away.

I unconsciously braced myself for the flood of painful memories that always accompanied his name. He had been mine once, or had I been his? It was so long ago that I didn't know, and I was certain he didn't either, his memory was so shot to Hell. When I thought of him, I could remember the trips to Canada into the wilderness. Days spent hunting, nights in each other's arms in the cabin, snow falling on the roof. Our explosive tempers made it nearly impossible to get along for more than a few short weeks, usually less, but that only made the times we did that much sweeter. Those memories triggered others I had thought long forgotten...we had known each other long before the cabin, long before the unsaid love between us that we were too independent to voice. We had been enemies then, every fight we had was an attempt to kill each other, it seemed. Neither ever did; I think even then something held us back. The fight that changed our relationship forever came long after years of hatred.

We had been alone in the woods, I had tracked him to his favorite relaxing spot. The very same cabin we would eventually share. His back had been to me, fishing, his way. Shirtless, waist deep in the ice cold water, claws out, blue eyes trained for movement in the depths. I had hung back, not knowing why I didn't attack. He didn't know I was there only a meter or more away. I had scent maskers to thank for that and my own silent stealth. I admired the muscles that writhed with his every movement, he was in perfect health, something I had never bothered to think about. His back was tensed to strike, a splash accompanied by a shower of rainbow droplets. He surfaced, a fish neatly speared on his claws, he ripped into it with an animalistic hunger not bothering with humanity's rules. Then I realized just what this place meant to him, it was where he went to truly be himself, not just the part that was most human.

A pile of clothing lay near me, all of his clothing, I contemplated what that meant before he distracted me again. Hunger sated, he climbed onto the bank and laid out, asleep immediately. The sun sparkled off the water that clung to his body, my mind raged for me to attack even as it froze staring with... longing? I shifted and he was up in a flash, eyes wild, claws ready. The animal in him showing in every twitch of his finely tuned body in every shift of his eyes that missed nothing, not even me. His lips pulled back when he saw me showing his canines in a feral grin, many I was sure had found bone-chilling. I'm not many. That grin called to me. I was sure if he had the time to think he would have been confused at my hesitancy; nothing had ever halted me before, but I also was no longer thinking like before.

With a growl, Logan flung himself at me, claws extended ready for another of our ‘till death fights. I dodged, but still fell to the ground as my foot caught in a root, cursing at him for distracting me. He landed on my back, the breath left me with an Umph and I felt his fist on back of my head and knew he was ready to release his claws. I flipped him over as I had many times before, landing on top on him. "Remember, runt, I'm stronger then you."

Logan growled, "An' what now? Ya feelin' kinky or somethin'?" It had been meant to anger me, but he didn't know how close to the truth he was with that comment, the scent maskers hid the trace of my feelings. I gave him an evil eye and moved away from him, confused with myself. I usually took what I wanted, but now I wasn't quite sure what that was. His nose tested the air, but he couldn't find my scent. Shaking my head, I tried to focus on him, on his attack that would come soon. My mind was clouded with my desire though and he easily knocked me over. I could have attempted to flip him again, but his claws pressed to my forehead drawing droplets of blood that I had to blink out of my eyes. I waited for him to do it, I grinned at him, daring him. He didn't; instead he stared in shock and something else, nostrils flared.

I cursed the faulty scent maskers that had faded early, swearing to gut the makers myself if I ever got my hands on them. He didn't say anything, just stared, tensed, at me, studying my face for a long time. I held still, not really knowing why. Numbly, I knew he had the upper hand and I hated it, rage clouded my thinking, but still I didn't move. The snickt barely sunk in, still the rage had my mind twisted, the fact that a man had the upper hand, had power over me. The second snickt didn't sink in either, but his mouth covering mine did, and I returned that kiss with every ounce of passion I had.

What followed after that, I have no need to describe, it was the beginning, a violent beginning. The end was much, much worse. Neither of us wanted or would stand for a restricting relationship, we both had our relationships on the side, flings all. They called us both commitment shy, but how could we tell them of our previous lasting commitment to each other? We couldn't. So they stayed only flings, and we always returned to each other until the fighting got so bad that our tempers might take us too far. He had never mentioned the X-men to me and I did the same with my jaunts to the wrong side of the law. If our jobs clashed in battle we fought each other for all we were worth, putting our relationship aside, but afterwards we were back to normal, as normal as we could get. Our jobs never came into the sparse conversation, and our relationship never got in the way of our jobs. We both preferred it that way.

One day, the final day, he had met up with me at the cabin as usual. We had stayed for a week before it became time to separate again. The last day of that week when we were both packed ready to hike off in our opposite directions, he told me in his quiet rough voice that could send shivers of anticipation or rage down my spine so easily; told me that he didn't want to see me again, that it was over completely. The shiver was rage and we fought. I nearly killed him, but I still loved him, and so spared his life. I ran from the reality, from him. Through the trees recklessly, leaves slapping me in the face, losing the tenuous hold on sanity, rampaging the world as I liked. But he never came back to me. I accepted it after a year. Moved on...or so I had thought, but the question forced me to realize I had never given up on him.

Do you, Logan take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? The voice that could send shivers of anticipation or rage down my spine spoke softly with a steel surety lining it, "I do."

That corner of sanity disappeared into the night with those words. I dimly heard the man say you may kiss the bride and heard the bitch tell him "You heard the man lover, till death do us part."

The rage rose blinding me for a moment and I was atop the minister claws removing his petty life with the same speed they always had, "My Sentiments Exactly!" I screamed letting the animal take over, embracing it. The look in his eyes when he saw me behind the body of the frail, the shock, hurt, anger. And I knew then that the bitch would die by my hand tonight, he would feel the gut wrenching pain when he lost her. Feel what I did when I lost him. The savage grin graced my lips at that thought, widening when I slugged him. He had been loved by me as Victor, but Victor had died when he said those two words, Sabretooth had taken control...forever.

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