The creak of unoiled metal grating against itself seemed loud in the early morning air as the lone figure stood before the gates. A lone hand, encased in black leather gloves that had seen better days trailed over the rusty iron.

How long had it been? She wondered sadly. When was the last time she’d been here? When was the last time that laughter and joy had lived within the hallowed walls of this place?

Pushing through the gates, she walked up the stone path. Weeds had already overtaken most of the driveway, the once pristine landscaping was in disarray and ruin, and the walls of the mansion lay.

The only sound was the clicking of the heels on her boots, and the faint chirp of a bird nearby. Walking through the growing light she paused at the door and pushed. With a squeak that made her cringe she stepped inside and paused, her eyes already adjusting to the muted light.

She pushed the hood of her cloak back, her eyes searching the walls, the stairs for any indication of who and what she’d come to find. Seeing the familiar, ancient scar of a fist into the wall she walked toward it.

Offering up a prayer she pushed on the splintered indentation and jumped when the wall slid back. Stepping through the opening she waved at the dust that rose around her even as she followed the dark, twisting corridor.

Jumping down the small opening she landed lightly and rose to her full height. With hands that trembled she traced along the walls of the corridor until she came to the panel she remembered from so long before. Sliding it open she entered the room.

Like silent witnesses dark leather uniforms hung in dust encrusted chambers. Beneath each one a familiar emblazoned ‘X’ rested. Walking along the line of outfits she paused beside one and raised a hand to the glass.

A ruthless swipe of her hand and she stared at the tattered leather that had been repaired time and again, the lines of a warrior’s wounds that should have been invisible to all.

“Why did it have to be you?” The whisper was soft, pain-filled, and choked. “I should have been there, should have protected you.”

With a curse at the tears that escaped her control she smashed at the glass in anger. Leaning her head against the cool surface she sobbed openly for the broken dreams, for lost chances that had been stolen long before they’d ever been born.

Loud in the silence the sound of heavy footsteps drew her away from her misery and she whirled around, her cloak rising up around her as she reached for the gun she carried on one hip.

“Relax, kid.” Like a warm, welcoming blanket the low growl drew a smile. “You missin’ the geek again?”

“Naw,” Sniffling slightly she gestured to the uniform. “Unless his name was Wolverine.”

Through the shadows the figure moved until he stood next to her, his dark eyes firmly fixed upon the uniform. Emotions, twisted by time and experience raced through his eyes a moment before they fell upon her. Fingers bare of any cover reached up to tangle in the pale strands of her bangs. “He was never a geek.”

“He wore the X!”

A slow smile and a shrug greeted her statement. “So?”

“He must have believed in what they were doing.”

“He wore it not for them, not for their cause, but for her.” He gestured at a slim, dark uniform that was folded at the base of the cage. “For the one who made him a man instead of an animal.”

“Who was she?”

“A rogue. A lady.”

“You loved her?”

He shook his head and moved closer to her, his eyes firmly upon her face. “No. He still loves her.”

“She isn’t the same girl anymore?”

“She’s never been a girl, he loved a woman.”

Warmth infused her smile as she looked at him. “Can they make it work again?”

“It never stopped.” He turned and walked back the way he’d come. He paused at the edge of the light and turned to her. “The walls may have crumbled, the weeds rose up to take back the stone and brick, but the foundation still stands. Come home.”

She listened to him walk away for a few seconds before inhaling a breath for courage. “Do you mean it?”

Laughter, strong, masculine drifted back to her. “Kid, you know the answer to that. It’s the same as it’s always been.”

Giggling softly she glanced once behind her at the uniforms before trotting after him. Even after two centuries, after countless lifetimes spent together this ritual was still the same. It solidified their union, washed away all the old anger, the old regrets, and cleansed the wounds of words spoken in rage.

“Hey old man, the least you could do is wait for your wife!” She hollered at him as he paused by the stairwell.

“Really, old woman, and what if I don’t feel like waitin’?”

She paused by the dirty table and grinned, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

They shared a quick grin as he walked toward her, “We’re good?”

“We’ve always been good, Rogue.”

“Marie.” She whispered standing on tip toe to kiss him gently. “My name is Marie.”

“Logan.”

“Let’s go. The grandkids are waiting.” With an arm wrapped around her shoulders he led her from the ruins of an ancient school, a short stop on their way through eternity.