”Logan?” She called out his name. Only sounds coming from the darkness of the room were ragged breathing, occasional grunts and sound of flesh impacting against something solid.
“Logan?” She called again and fumbled with the light switch. Turning it would probably be a bad idea. You didn’t go around messing with other people’s chosen scenarios in Danger Room. But she had to see him.
“Logan, I’m turning the lights on, okay?” And finally he answered.
“Wait up. I’m done for now. Coming out.”

She heard him approaching, then he stepped out of the shadows in to the light. Darkness seemed to cling to him, reluctant to let go, lingering in his eyes and resting heavily upon his shoulders.
“Go to sleep.”
“I was thinking we could go for a ride.”
“No, Logan. You have to go to sleep. You can’t keep going on like this. You need to rest.”

It had been too easy. Professor had managed to erase most of his memories from the time he spent in the lab. Only small bits and pieces still lingered, but professor was sure that within time he would be able to purge even those remnants from Logan’s mind. Now those small fragments were surfacing at odd moments, making Logan lash out in rage or reducing him to a quivering, scared wreck of a man.

“Ride first. I’m too wound up to sleep. You coming?” Logan asked.
“Do I even have a choice…” She muttered under her breath, bolting after him before he disappeared round the corner. Logan stopped abruptly and she barreled against his back.
“You do have a choice. You always have,” he spoke with a silent voice turning slowly around to look at her. She sat on the floor where collision with him had thrown her, and suddenly Logan looked not only tired and worn, but positively threatening, towering over her, dark eyes scanning every inch of her before settling to look straight in to hers.
“Are you coming or not?”

Just a few weeks ago they would have been able to joke about his words. They would have been able to throw in some adolescent bit of humor, both snickering and laughing, Marie telling him she wouldn’t be coming anytime soon if he didn’t get to work. But these weeks spent dangling on all too thin line between reality and hallucinations had stripped them from all remnants of playfulness. Every word was carefully considered before spoken out loud. Every move and gesture overly careful. Anything or anyone could in avertedly launch an unwanted reaction. Depending of the nature of the surfacing memory provocateur could get gut full of razor-sharp adamantium, or hands full of scared out of his wits Wolverine.

“I’m coming. Help me up?” She held out her hand. He took it and pulled her up.
“Go and get changed. Don’t want you to freeze your ass off. I’ll wait in the garage,” Logan grunted.

She rubbed her wrist absently while walking towards her room. She knew she would have finger shaped bruises around it soon enough. She would have to hide them from Logan. He would spend days cooped up in to the cabin, not letting her in, not letting her close to him and beating himself up over those marks he had put on to her by accident.

“Ready?” She heard him asking. He gave her no chance to answer, and she clung to him for dear life of her when bike tore out from the garage and down the driveway. They were approaching gates too fast, they were opening too slowly. She heard a loud thud and Logan flinched when they squeezed past heavy iron bars, but he didn’t stop. Road opened in front of them, dark and empty stretch of asphalt glistening from dew. She relaxed a bit, laid her head against Logan’s back and locked her hands around his waist. It would be a while before he would be able to stop the bike.

“You should be more careful,” she admonished him lightly, eyeing the torn knee of his jeans. Skin underneath was flawless, but blood clung to denim, coloring the torn part dark red.
“Stop fussing. It was just a scratch. It won’t kill me.”
“What about me? That scratch could have killed me. Or crippled me.”
“You have a choice. You don’t have to tag along,” Logan muttered, guilt creeping over his features.
“Really? Do you seriously think you could make it on your own? Look at you! You’re a mess! You don’t eat, you don’t sleep…”
“Stop shouting at me.”
“No. This time you’ll listen what I have to say! I’m sick and tired of this! Youmph…”

“Sick and tired? This isn’t exactly a joyride for me either…” Logan had her pinned to the ground, palm covering her mouth.
“This shit was supposed to be over fucking months ago. That crap wasn’t supposed to stay in me. Xavier promised… He fucking promised to me before I left, that he would take it all out after it was over!” He looked positively pissed off, teeth bared, eyes gleaming from the faint flicker of light stars and moon provided.
“I’m going fucking insane, and all he can fucking do is to sit on his fucking ass, offer apologies and fucking excuses as if they would make this all up to me!”

She lay under him quietly. Not struggling, not trying to talk. When he was this agitated he wouldn’t listen a word she had to say. All she could do was to wait until he calmed down before she could try to reason with him once more.

“He can’t… There’s absofuckinglutely nothing, nothing he can do, nothing he can offer to make it up! This… Shit.” He blinked few times and removed his hand from her face almost forcibly.
“Marie?”
“Yeah?”
“I did it again.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, fuck…” His head dropped, hiding his face to the crook of her neck. His hands slid under her back, and threatening hold from her turned to almost desperate embrace.
“Next time I ask you to come with me, don’t. Don’t come.” He murmured, warm breath tickling the side of her throat. She struggled briefly to free her hands, and curled them around him.
“I have to. Who would bring you back if I wasn’t there with you?” She asked.
“Maybe you shouldn’t bring me back.”
“Logan…”
“Maybe you should just let me go.”
“No! Logan, stop talking like that!”
“Maybe everybody would be better off if I left.”
“Come on, Logan! Since when did you turn in to a wuss? Show me you’re a man!” She tried desperately to stop her voice from trembling.
“Xavier told me there’s nothing he can do anymore.”
“You don’t have to go just because… What?”

They were sitting on the side of the road, bike standing behind them. World was slowly waking up. Sun was rising. Birds chirping in the forest lining the road.
“There’s no way to erase those last shreds. No way to block them.” Logan spoke slowly, smoking a cigar, inhaling the smoke as deep in to his lungs as it was possible.
“There’s no way around it, kid. I’m turning insane.” Just stating the fact.
“Xavier thinks he can postpone it. Buy more time for you guys.”
“Buy more time?”
“More time to figure out how you can put me down for good.”
“Logan!”
“Come on, kid! Think! Do you really think I want to spend rest of eternity as a drooling, muttering maniac?”
“There must be something we can do…”
“There’s nothing. Xavier’s gone through every fucking trick on the book, gone through his every friend and ally… I’m stuck with those memories. Stuck. And it’s getting worse every day.”
“Fine. If you really want to die…” She hissed, bringing her bare hands to his face. Logan turned his head and swatted her hands away.

“Don’t even think about it. You don’t need the shit I got floating around in that head of yours. It’s enough that it drives me nuts.”
“You think it would work?” She asked. Logan frowned thoughtfully.
“Probably. If you held on long enough. At least that’s what the professor thinks.”
“Professor?”
“You were his first option. Told him I would rather wait for the last than take his first offer.”
“Weird. I always thought… No.”
“What?”
“It’s stupid. You’re going to think there’s something wrong with me.”
“I’m hardly in a position to pass judgment.”
“When I manifested… There was an accident. I touched a friend of mine. Bobby. He survived, but it was just a brief brush, and he was in a coma for three weeks. I just kept wishing it had been you there that day instead of Bobby, because you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I thought you probably would have been immune.” Logan’s frown deepened. He stubbed the cigar he was holding.
“Only one way to find it out.” He stuck out his hand.
“Take a hit.”

“This is fucked up!” She screeched, kicking small pebbles and clumps of grass on her way, marching back and forth, both of her hands curled to tight fists on her sides. Logan sat on the ground, re-lit cigar dangling from his fingers, staring at the toes of his boots.
“This is so fucking fucked up that it isn’t funny anymore!”

First touch had been fleeting, just a chaste brush of her index finger, sliding quickly over the back of his outstretched hand. Nothing had happened. She had concentrated harder. Applied more pressure, still careful not to hold on too long. After several tries Logan had thrown away his cigar cursing softly, and grabbed her hands with his own, bringing them flush against his cheeks. They had sat there staring at each other, almost like lovers anticipating a kiss. Minutes had ticked by. Nothing had happened.

“Well, we can tell Xavier to start looking again…” Logan huffed. He sounded actually relieved.
“It’s so fucking unfair! I can suck the whole freaking world dry, why should you be any different?”
“Don’t fret over it. You can push me under a buss and we call it even, okay?”
“Fuck you! Why do you have to be such an asshole? I don’t want you to get hurt! I don’t want you to die!” She screamed. Logan grimaced.
“Stop shouting, goddamned. I’m not deaf.”
“No. You’re just retarded!”
“They fucked up my head. What’s your excuse?”
“Stop! Stop talking and acting like this was nothing! It’s not a fucking joke!” She was practically steaming from pent up rage, but one look in to Logan’s eyes made it evaporate. He was tired. He was scared.

“I fucking know it isn’t a joke. Either you guys find a way to kill me, or I’ll chop you all to pieces because I’m so fucked up that I can’t tell a friend from foe.”

She couldn’t sleep. Never mind that the last time she had slept full eight hours a night was weeks ago, her mind kept buzzing and whirring, trying to form a solution to a problem. A solution she didn’t even want to find.

How the hell do you kill a man that can’t die?

At first she had been adamant in her refusals to aid professor and Logan in their quest, but things had gotten to a point where there were no other options anymore. Logan spent his days heavily sedated, thick steel manacles binding his wrists behind his back, wandering aimlessly around the mansion, dozing off every now and then from sheer exhaustion. Students had long ago gotten used to finding him sleeping, snoring softly, from odd places. They had received strict instructions not to approach him in those situations, but to inform professor instead. He’d send somebody to wake him up, or possibly drag him away from a classroom he had wandered in to in his dazed state.

And he was rapidly developing immunity to drugs Jean kept loading in to his system.

She sighed and sat up. She wasn’t going to get sleep. Not lying here and contemplating the best way to kill Logan. They had to be wrong. There had to be something professor had missed. Some way to clear Logan’s head without killing him. She would find it, and they could all laugh about this little episode in the future. In very, very far future. She got off from the bed, pulled a bathrobe over her nightgown and grabbed her laptop.

She walked through silent corridors and halls, slippers swishing softly against the thick carpet. Big cup of hot cocoa was what she needed first. Then a silent, but not too comfortable corner to tuck in to with the laptop. Preferably somewhere where she would have a view over the back garden. She would go through every paper and document, every source. She would go through them as many times as it took to find a way to bring Logan back from shadows he had fallen to.

“Oh, hi Jean…” Greeting died to her lips. It wasn’t Jean in the kitchen as she had first thought. Logan stood there, staring in to open fridge.
“Logan?” She called him. Logan turned to look at her, wrinkling his nose awkwardly.
“Itches. My nose. It itches…” She put her laptop to the table and reached to scratch his nose. Logan closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh.
“Thanks…”
“No problem. Hungry?” She asked. Logan shook his head.
“Could you give me a beer?”
“Okay…” She wasn’t sure if would it be wise, but what was the worst that could happen? Logan already spent his days in a drunken stupor. She took out a bottle and opened it, placing it in front of him, and turned to dig deeper, to find the milk for her cocoa. She heard Logan muttering something.
“What was that?” She asked.
“…pour it to a glass?”
“Oh, of course!” She retrieved a tall glass from the cupboard over the sink and poured the beer in to it, placing it in front of him and going back to her task of heating the milk and mixing cocoa powder in to it.

Ten minutes later she was finally satisfied for the end result. Just the right amount of cocoa and sugar. Just the right amount of cream. And tiny marshmallows. She took a tentative sip, letting out satisfied sigh, and turned to take her laptop.

Logan was sitting at the table, glass of ice-cold beer in front of him. He hadn’t even touched to it. He just sat there, looking at it.
“Something wrong with it?” Marie asked worried. It was unusual for Logan to nurse a single beer this long. Again he muttered something.
“I’m sorry, you have to talk louder. All of us haven’t been blessed with enhanced hearing.”
“… a straw?”
“A straw?” She wasn’t sure if she had heard him right. Was he asking a straw?
“Yes.”
“Okay…” She retrieved a packet of plastic straws.
“Umm… There’s green, red, yellow and blue, which color…”
“Just give me a fucking straw, okay!”
“Okay, okay! No need to get angry… There. I gave you blue one.”
“I know what color it is, Marie. I’m not fucking three years old.”
“Sorry…”
“Forget it… What’s keeping you up this late?” Logan asked after taking a long sip from his beer.
“Couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking. What if there’s something we have missed?” Logan cocked his eyebrow.
“You and Xavier have already gone through everything trice. Wouldn’t you already had found it if there was something?”
“I don’t know. I thought it couldn’t hurt to check once more. I was going to look up some older files and go through my notes I wrote when I was going through those tapes you made with professor.”
“Need a hand? I’m kind of tied up now, but I have nothing but time…” Logan smirked, rattling the chain that bound his wrists.
“Are you sure that it’s a good idea? To look at that stuff? Maybe we should just go and ask Jean to give you something to help you sleep…”
“She already gave me a shot little over half an hour ago.” Half an hour ago?
“Then how… Why… What…”
“Drug she’s using doesn’t work anymore. Felt a little dizzy for couple of minutes, that’s all. So… It would probably be a good idea to get to work, huh?”
“Uh-huh…”

“What the hell did they do to me? Jesus! This is sick!”
“Maybe it would be better if you went to bed…”
“No, no… I’m fine. Christ… Could you turn the page for me?”
“Use this.”
“A pencil? Marie, what mmph!”
“Keep it in your mouth and turn the pages with it.”
“Mmm-hhm.”

She went through page after page, eyes practically glued to the screen of the computer. Only sounds in the kitchen were ticking of the clock, occasional mumbles and grunts from Logan and rustling of the paper when he fought to turn pages with the pencil she had slipped between his lips.

“Whaddis?” Logan mumbled and tapped the document in front of him with the pencil.
“What?” Logan spat out the pencil.
“What’s this? There’s something about some sort of implant they were going to install. Some kind of chip.”
“Jean has scanned you dozens of times. She has gone those scans through with a fucking microscope. If there were some chip, she would have already found it. Maybe they changed their plans…”
“I don’t think so. Look at the dates. There’s ten days missing. What happened during those days? This is the only part professor wasn’t able to bring back. What was so fucking horrible compared to the rest of this shit, that I couldn’t remember it? There are moments where they cut out my fucking organs while I’m awake, for Christ’s sakes, and I could remember it happening. Every detail. What the hell happened during these ten days?”