New Years Eve he always spent away if he could, he never saw the turn of the year if he didn't have to. It was easier that way for him, he could just pretend that he was replaying the last twelve months over.
Even if he couldn't get the memory of Jean out of his head he'd let his memory gloss over that she wasn't alive anymore, revelling in the moments of scent in places where it still lingered. But not this year, he'd been injured, smashed up if the truth be known, Magneto
may be a human but there were other ways to harm him and being run over by a semi did just as much damage.

Above him the whole house was awake, he could feel the tremble of the flooring as they moved about in their party dresses and suits.
The ball had been 'Ro's idea, a fundraiser and a social nicety to those who were helping to fund the school. Pity it didn't run to him laying down here in the med bay cursing the world and his lack of booze.

His mind did what it usually did when it was bored, it replayed the events that had led upto the death of Jean. Not the work he'd done in the months that had followed but the realisation that Xavier had been lying to them all. That he'd used his favourite pupil as an experiment, he'd chained her, split her in two, forced the Phoenix
to hide in her subconscious instead of allowing her to understand the power she'd held in her mind. He was no different, Wolverine was a selfish, aggressive, nasty, greedy piece of work. It was part of him, a side he didn't like to show but it was there and there was no
point denying it's existance.

Hell when Marie had come home smelling of a lab he'd almost wanted to gut her the pain of her betrayal to him had cut so deep. That she'd given in, she'd sold herself for something less than she was, it hadn't been until the next week when he'd seen her sat outside in the snow that he'd realised he'd gotten it wrong. She was gloved up
sure but it wasn't for the cold, she'd backed out but she hadn't told anyone, not even the Ice Cube she'd risked herself for. He'd made a sound then and she'd turned a fake smile coming onto her face as she stripped the gloves from her hands. She looked normal but the smell of cornstarch on her skin made him sure she'd sprayed
something over her skin to keep the illusion present. Her eyes had been clouded as he'd stood there wondering why the hell she'd put herself through the name calling and hurtful stares she'd gotten from the rest of the kids who thought she'd done it.
He'd found out the moment someone came to sit next to her, they didn't flinch anymore; she could sit next to them with her entire skin covered, only her hands showing and they didn't care. The look of utter calm and relief she showed on her face was the answer, they might not like her decision but it made them accept her better.

Noise was pulling him back to reality and the bed he was lying in, someone was just outside the door of the medbay struggling with the door handle as they tried to carry something inside. When it eventually opened it showed Marie carrying a six pack of beer and three bottles of whiskey. Her skin was flushed, and she stank of the party, her clothes were covering and her smile was a little faded as she walked over to him.
"You know what I hate about those parties?" He just watched her dump the bottles on the blue hospital sheet next to his leg, hoping she'd pass one up to him right now. "The way they all expect something from you, that you should be different, that you should stand out
because you're a 'mutant'." The words held a sting in them and Logan felt her heartrate slow as she passed him two bottles of Irish Whiskey.

He kept silent but watched her as she lifted the heavy skirt and seated herself on the end of his bed. Snagging a beer for herself and just drinking it slowly as he worked on the bottles, they kept silence with each other until the last strains of Midnight had gone.
The great roar had been heard through the entire building but the clock on the wall had been a few minutes ahead of the event above them. She was into her fourth beer when she finally turned to wish him a 'Happy New Year'. He'd just replied "What's happy about it?"

It was in that moment that he saw her realise what he was, that the years hung on him like a coat he couldn't shed, it was just another link in the chain that kept him here, another load of memories that he wished he could forget. They sat in quiet silence for another hour, just drinking, neither wanting to break the surface tension of
silence that had built in the room. When the clock rolled round to 2am she finally shifted and pulled her empties into the bin, leaving him with the rest of the bottles. The finality of her movements disturbed him, as if she was tidying away something she never wanted to.

"Why do you lie about it?" Her hair had fallen out of it's style and obscured her face as she straightened up, pushing the errant locks away he noticed the redness in her eyes and the deep sorrow she was hiding inside.
"What else do I have? If they knew the truth Logan they'd shun me again, at least this way I can seem normal even if it's a lie."
"They'll find out." She shrugged and walked toward the door, her back facing him as she spoke her final words to him that night.
"No one else knows but you Logan and you haven't said a word to anyone. If it was so important you'd have said something to someone wouldn't you?"

The sound of the door closing behind her stayed with him into the early morning hours as he finished the rest of the bottles she'd brought him. Allowing him to drown himself for a while in oblivion, he knew it was pointless, the memories would still return to haunt him as would the responsibility he had now hanging heavily around his neck. It was important to be honest to yourself he knew that, but she didn't. She was still cheating herself out of her rightful place and self, yet it was something she'd have to learn on her own.
He'd keep quiet about it, her secret, she had about his, the truth he'd run from and had kept running from. Ever since Liberty Island she'd known just who he'd been thinking about and it hadn't been a doctor with red hair and killer legs.

His eyes settled on the clock on the wall, noticing it was only three hours from his first visit from the orderlies. He used the time well, planning a journey away from the school for a few days and who he might ask to go with him, that is if she wanted to.
Raising the last bottle to the clock he drained it, letting the alcohol wash away the pain for a moment, easing the burden on his heart and the ache in his soul only one hand could ease, one that was wrapped in a velvet glove.