A Cunning Plan:

She’d just hit the next guy when he came in. That was it, it was perfect, hit him in the head, then get the key off of his belt. Yes! Hit him in the head, get the key off his belt, and open the cell door. Marie was excited, happy even. This was much better than yesterdays plan, ‘trip him and bash his head on the ground’ was obviously the worst plan ever. That was a terrible plan. Worse even that the ‘Touch Him’ plan when she had forgotten she was wearing the collar. She hadn’t even managed to trip him, he just stumbled. And after that his head was way too far from the floor for bashing. This plan was much much better.

Hit him in the head, get the key off his belt, open the cell door, and run. Much better. Hit him in the head, get the key off his belt, open the cell door, run, and get out. She looked around for something to hit him in the head with. Her plate was much to flimsy for knocking over the head. And if she didn’t succeed, they might not give it back. There wasn’t anything else that wasn’t bolted down. The sink and toilet seemed as if they’d been melded to the wall. If the cot hadn’t been bolted down, the legs would have been too short anyway. And she didn’t know how to remove them anyway.

Her excitement plummeted. This was a stupid plan. She didn’t even have anything to hit him with? How was she supposed to knock him out if she didn’t have anything to hit him with? What a stupid stupid plan. That was ridiculous. Just stupid. That wasn’t a good plan at all. Now… maybe if she could just find a way to knock him down…

In the Line of Fire:

Logan dodged between two buildings, aiming for an alley that would allow him some cover but still give him maneuverability and a firing point. Generally it was his practice to forgo the use of firearms or any kind of long range weapon, unless it was him and Pitor and the Fastball Special, but picking bullets out of his body really fucking hurt.

Besides, he was a really fucking awesome shot. He took down quite a few of them before someone got lucky. He knew right away that it was some serious tranquilizers, because he could taste the chemical in the air around him. Either someone was sloppy loading it, or had they weren’t that great a shot and some had burst on the wall behind him. Regardless it was self injecting and quick release, so by the time he pulled the dart from his skin, it was already way to fucking late.

He made the best of his last few moments, radioing Scott to get the fuck outta Dodge, he’d catch up later, and killing five more of the fuckers before his eyelids closed. He lashed out with his claws in a dramatic Last Stand before unconsciousness claimed him.

When it Rains:

Marie startled and jumped when they swung the door to her cell open. She was so distracted that she completely forgot her plan to sneak the keys from the guard and wait until he was gone to run away. She glowered at the heap of man they’d tossed onto her floor before they pulled the door closed again. His clothes were nice, and his hair was pretty. But it was his fault she hadn’t been able to execute her escape plan. Stupid man. She eyes the leather outfit the man wore. The yellow lines running along the seams were pretty. She wanted one. It was the least he could do for spoiling her escape plans.

Carefully she inched closer. Closer. Closer. Her fingers touched the yellow line and he jerked unexpectedly under her touch. She scrambled back across the room, cowering between the end of the cot and the wall, staring at him. She healed him! She healed him? Surely that wasn’t what had happened. It never worked that way before. She reached up to make sure that she was still wearing the collar. She was. She looked, and he was too.

He groaned ad pushed himself up onto his hands and knees before rolling over to sit up and survey the room. He was nice to look at. His eyes were a pretty hazel.

“What a shithole.” His mouth needed some washing out. She wasn’t sure how to talk to him. It had been so long, she tried or form coherent natural speech, instead of the erratic rapid speech she was accustomed to in her own brain.

“Who are you?” She asked. When he turned those hazel eyes to meet hers, she knew that she was getting way more than she needed.

Fool’s Gold:

He looked at the girl across from him. Dirty and wearing what looked like a threadbare pair of hospital scrubs, she reminded him of every other mutant he’d ever come across in a place like this. “Logan.”

“What are you doing here?” She said with a glare. He gave her a look and wondered how long she’d been tapped in this hellhole.

“Same as you, darlin’. I’m not here for my health. Look, what are their routines?” She shot him another hostile look and crawled forward on her hands and knees.

“Routines?” She reached out and touched the yellow trim on his uniform. “Breakfast in the morning, planning until lunch. Exercises in the afternoon and examinations after dinner. During the night is when I when I come up with the best plans; sometimes the ones in the mornings aren’t very good. Sometimes the good ones are spoiled.”

She was very close to his face now, her brows drawn together in concentration as she tried her best to pull the trim from his uniform. He caught her hands and pulled him from their work. “Times, girl. I need times.”

“Times? I don’t seem to have my blackberry on my right now, but if you give me a minute I’ll have my secretary pull up a list of tomorrows activities and you can pour over them to your heart’s content.” She leveled a bright eyed stare at him. “Does it look like I’ve got a window? My internal clock runs on 24 hours of dimness. They like it when the bright lights make you blink and squint, it’s easier not to see them coming.”

And as she sat there, straddling his hips and picking at the trim on his leather uniform, Logan found little help in the divided attention of a bat-shit girl disgruntled about her fate.

Temptation:

As an avid appreciator of beautiful things, and given her present isolated state, she was in a mood to be gracious with the Man (Logan she reminded herself) and forgive him his untimely interruption. She was having a minor difference of opinion with herself on not viewing him as the ‘despoiler of her plans’. It was a disconcerting situation to say the least.

She was insanely drawn to the yellow trim and needed it beyond all that was measurable.

“Girl, what are you doing?” the Man asked. She looked from where her fingers worked to his pretty hazel eyes again.

“I have a name. And I need this ribbon.”

“That’s not ribbon. It’s trim. What did you need it for?”

She returned her attention to the trim. “I need it because I need it. It’s drawing me in.” She added the pleading look to her face, the one that was sure to gain his assistance and smiled brilliantly when she say that he was going to give her the pretty stripe. He lifted his hand and knives shot out of his hand.

He grunted violently and his hands started to bleed. Something passed over his eyes and he lifted his hand left hand to his neck, fingered the collar carefully. He groaned.

“Let me look at yours.” He told her. She leaned back wary, those were big knives sticking out of his hands. And knives hurt. A lot. But he was like her, a mutant, and he probably wouldn’t hurt her, hopefully. Throwing caution to the wind, which was something she had only a partial grip on anyway, she leaned forward and exposed the graceful line of her bruised beck to him.

And Now for Something Completely Different:

Even with the burning pain of cut and torn tendons and muscles in his forearm, he could feel that smug primal part of him grin in menace when the girl bared her neck to him. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about it, he doubted this girl, crazy as she was, followed any commands. And it was common knowledge that Logan was controlled by his instinct. Maybe she was too?

He shook his head to clear the thoughts and brought his good hand up to her throat, carefully he spun the collar along her chaffed skin. “How long you been here?”

“Long time.” She replied. “Lost track of the moons ages ago.” He paused in his examination and looked her over again.

“How old are you?”

“24. I think. At least, I was 22. Before.” She replied, like age is something they can change along with your body and mind.

“What were you like before?” He gave the collar another twirl and sighed in relief when he noticed he hinge holding the piece together with a pin. Obviously, they didn’t know anything about him other than that he was a mutant. They assumed he wouldn’t pop his claws without his healing.

Another calm and disconcerting bright eyed look from the girl, madness glimmered there in the chocolate brown depths.

“Better. Better than my bad days, better than my good days. Not like this.” He knew she was suddenly having a moment of clarity and fought for something to say to hold onto it. Her gaze stayed level with his.

“I need your help. If I don’t get this collar off, you’re going to watch me bleed to death all over your floor. See this hinge you’ve got one of your collar here? I need you to maneuver my arm and use my claws to cut that off of mine.”

She regarded him with some trepidation before nodding her head in agreement. Logan was infinitely thankful that the people who ran this lab were funded by fuckers like the Friends of Humanity, instead of some secret government program, because it was likely the only stroke of luck he’d get in this shithole.

Slow Burn:

With trepidation and a wary eye, she took his bleeding sharpened hand into hers. Marie was careful not to touch the blades. Certain as she was that her own skin could be deadly, Mare knew something so beautiful couldn’t be touched without a price to be paid.

She was sober as a babe, clear minded and calculating when she reached out to spin his collar around. She positioned it so that part of his leather collar was wedged between the metal and his skin. Carefully and quickly, aware that her sense of self was vanishing she gripped his hand with her own.

She met his eyes briefly over their joined hands; her gaze scorched a path along his jaw to his eyes. “Marie.”

Without any further thought of the slow agonizing invasion of the voices that sneak in and claim her sanity, she forced her hands to guide his toward the collar. It was a delicate and awkward procedure that made a clean slice through the metal hinge of his collar, the tough leather of his uniform, and the soft dirty white flesh of her skin.

She ignored the pain as she watched him remove the remains of the collar. Still barely clinging to the last few strings of her sanity, she stared in amazement when his wounds closed before her eyes and marveled at how enjoyable it would be to just heal.

She reached out slowly, so slowly, and touched the smooth skin between his knuckles where the metal knives had appeared. She stared at her own hand, her fingers making contact with someone or the first time in a long time without causing pain and ripping and tearing and sucking and… pretty yellow trim. It pulled her attention to it while she focused another part of her brain on calming the voices, locked it up tight with the rest of her psyche, to keep her safe from herself.

Bare Bones:

Logan breathed slowly through the pain of his arm healing. His eyes tuned to the girl, who was leaned closely toward him, examining the yellow trim on his uniform, blood running own her forearm from where she’d cut herself on his claw. Why hadn’t she cried out? Why hadn’t she said anything?

He reached out and plucked her cut hand from his uniform. She ignored him and continued with her right hand, picking and pulling at the trim with her fingers.

“You cut yourself.” He said with a scowl. She brought her bright gaze to his briefly.

“Doesn’t hurt.” She shrugged, giving it little thought.

“Listen Ki-“ Logan stopped, remembering the look on her face when she’d told him her name. “Marie, listen to me.” He reached out and snagged the sheet from her cot. He tore a long strip from it as he spoke.

“We’re gonna get out of here, and it’s gonna be dangerous. But I can’t take you with me if you can’t listen to me. This is important. You have to do what I tell you.” He finished tying the makeshift bandage and looked up at her. She studied him intently for a moment.

“Give me the ribbon.” He sighed and cut a long line of it from where it adorned his shoulder and held out hope that he’d still be in the leathers when the X-Men found him. He placed the trim in the flat of her hand and watched as she gingerly and carefully wrapped her fingers around the prize.

Then she looked him square in the eyes and told him all about her plan.

Face to Face:

Marie cowered in the corner, humming to herself and guarding her treasure as if any moment Man would saunter over and snatch it back. He didn't. He just sat slumped against the wall next to the door. She didn't concern herself with him. He was fine, all sleepy looking over there across the chamber.

Steps. She could hear them in the hallway. Coming. She wedged herself deeper into the space between the cot and the wall and clutched the end of the ribbon in her palm. It was yellow and pretty and hers. Man had said so. He'd helped her to tie it around her wrist. She'd watched him the whole time. Made sure he wouldn't steal it.

Man had a name, she knew, he'd told it to her. A part of her brain stayed focused and tried to remember his name while she listened to the steps. She was pressed against the wall now, the fingers of her cut hand frantically twisting and clutching the yellow ribbon.

The door clanged open and one of the Uglies came in. She knew that’s what he was by the wicked black stick that he carried and the card hanging around his neck. His eyes were hard and black and it made her press even further into the wall as he nudged Man with his boot, the bolt securing the cot to the cement blocks dug painfully into her shoulder through her thin shirt.

Satisfied he turned his attention back to Marie and a terrible grin split his face. Her face turned away from the Ugly as he crouched down near her. Hot fat tears rolled down her cheeks but she kept her eyes open as she strained against the unyielding wall. The Ugly leaned so close she could practically smell his too sweet and sharply accented skin and reached out to touch her. His fingers grazed her cheek and tore a path through the tracks of clean skin left behind in their wake. She imagined she could feel each molecule of the dirt dragging across her flesh. It was terrible.

Suddenly that segmented part of her brain that had been solely focused on Man and his name and her job and what he could do clicked into place with an abrupt force.

“Logan!” The Ugly never saw him coming.

Showing off:

It had been a force of will for Logan to wait until she'd called his name. Their signal that the guard wasn't paying attention. He leapt to his feet and, with a smooth fluidity he yanked the guy backward and against the wall behind the door. A quick release of smooth deadly metal into his neck severed both his windpipe and his brain stem with little mess.

Quickly he wrapped the sheet around the guard's neck, stemming the blood flow. It wasn't like the movies, where a spray of blood covered everything and soaked your clothing and the splattered the walls. It just bleeds, it's not slow like molasses, or fast like a leap from a garden hose. Things are theatrical. It isn't pretty or artistic. You just bleed.

And when you're a bad person, nobody cares when you die. A few moments later, the guard has lost his boots and socks and was a little more presentable as a sleeping convict in the corner if any of his guard buddies looked for him.

The Keycard he held was stamped 'Kyle Rutledge Security: 3rd floor Genetics Research'. Logan grabbed it and took another quick moment to survey his handy work, quite proud of his accomplishment. He turned to Marie and tamped down the absurd inclination to boast. To show her he could hold up his end of the bargain.

The words he didn't plan on speaking died in his throat. She wouldn't have associated them with anything anyway. She was still huddled in the corner, wedged between the wall and the end of the cot, pressed so close to the cement he imagined that if she could she would melt right into the blocks.

Suddenly he was aware of how much he'd forgotten. This girl, this woman, was as much a lab rat as he had once been. For two years she'd had to deal with whatever it was they'd done to her. Nothing good judging by the scars that littered her skin.

His eyes took in details, the tracks her tears had made in the dirt on her face, the clean porcelain colored skin, her bandaged hand bloody from clutching the metal bar of the cot, her fingers working frantically on the yellow trim he’d tied to her good wrist, and look of complete fear on her face.

Have I Ever Steered You Wrong?:

The man pried her fingers from the cot. She was trembling so hard her hand looked blurry and slashed in red. She sat, still and frozen even as the man pulled her into his lap and rocked her back and forth, his hand running soothingly along her shoulders and back.

“Shhh. Hush now, it’s alright. Logan’s here, he’s got you.” Whether it was the sound of his name, or his soothing tone, she was slowly pulled from the frozen shock that had claimed her. She buried the bad things beneath the already overstuffed proverbial rug inside her brain and did her best to flatten it out.

She was comfortable in his lap, with his arms around her, so she stayed where she was only moving when the temptation to touch him again was just too much. Really, what did he expect anyway, with that tan expanse of skin so close to her lips and teeth? So she bit him.

“Darlin’…” The sound that escaped his throat was rough and low and tinged with what she knew at one time to be passion. It also contained a trace of regret that she didn’t care for, not when hands were touching her for the first time in her short memory with something other than hurt on their minds. “any other place and any other time, I’d throw myself into this with no upset to my conscience and loose myself in you, but right now we gotta get outta here. Are you with me Marie?”

She focused and smiled and reached into her brain to pull the little piece of her out the box. She didn’t dare leave it open, too many things might get in. When a bit of clarity, not nearly as much as she’d forced before, slipped into her she nodded sadly.

“Let’s go.”

Domination:

After checking to make sure that they were alone, Logan urged her out of the cell and into the hallway. She followed carefully, minding his signals with a twitchy swiftness and calming altogether when he set a hand on some part of her. He gave a fleeting thought to what her power could be, but dismissed it preferring a collared crazy girl to a powered one.

“Marie, we run down the next hallway.” His lips brushed against her skin as he whispered and she shivered, but nodded. He tuned out the delicate scent the flowered from her, but not before his animal side had time enough to memorize it. He shook his head and focused.

Their timing was perfect when they raced down the hall and when Logan turned to check on Marie she was hot on his heels, the clarity in her large brown eyes was reassuring. He pressed himself back against a wall and caught her in a quick sure movement before she continued on toward the scrape of a shoe that had echoed off of the wall ahead. She fit snug and sweet against him, but he didn’t give in to any of the urges that reared when she pressed her ear to his chest.

It was a near thing; the animal in him was nearer to the surface than it had been in years. He wasn’t sure if it were the walls and collar that brought it on or the equally disconcerting woman he held against him. In the end he maintained mastery of his instincts. It would prove though, that the girl would not maintain control over hers.

Keeping Warm:

The Uglies were hot on their trail, she just knew it. To compensate for her own diminished mental faculties, which even she was sometimes aware of, she focused all of her attention on the man and his beautiful profile. He told her, mostly without words, what she needed to do and she followed him as best she could. Three times now, or was it four, she’d been sidetracked by something soft or shiny and had only realized she wasn’t watching him any longer by a short and quick tug on her arm.

Mostly that’s all it would take to get her back on track. The man’s hand was smooth and strong and brought with it a sense of calm that urged her to open the box that held her safe but she knew it was a bad idea. Man couldn’t hold on to her indefinitely. No, it was a bad bad idea. If she ever took off the necklace, he wouldn’t want to touch her ever again; then how would she keep herself separated?

She tried, she tried so hard not to look around her, that wouldn’t help and she’d drag them to a halt if she got too distracted. The voices were creeping and hovering and they were right there, waiting for the moment that he let go to invade. He did. Her feet were moving, pounding into the floor toes gripping and gaining purchase when she passed the shiny table with the stopping straps.

And froze.

She was so cold, too cold, and they were cutting and hurting and burning and the patch of skin they peeled from her left arm was the only place she could focus on. Someone else spoke then, someone burned into her brain a long long time ago. The first.

That’s what you get you dirty mutie, that’s what you fucking deserve. All those things I told you, they were a lie. I only wanted to hurt you. It’s because you’re nothing. You’re lower than low, you’re not human.

Marie slid to the floor, a worthless loony girl as cold as ice. She wondered, briefly, if the man would even notice that she was gone.

Inhospitable Lodgings:

It took Logan only a few seconds to scoop the dead eyed girl into his arms and slip her over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. He wouldn’t think of the brown depths, numb and cold, devoid the ever present warmth. At this point he’d even be happy to see the twinkle of madness in her eyes if he’s to be denied the clarity of her sanity.

The thought of leaving her behind had, briefly, entered his mind. He’d chased it away with a feral growl. She was his now, damn it, and he wasn’t going to let her go. She smelled like his, looked like his, felt like his… all she needed was time, and help. Chuck could help her. Chuck would make her better.

The cameras hadn’t picked them up so far, which led Logan to believe they were more for intimidation instead of surveillance. He checked the transmitter on his collar and, for the first time, held out hope that they were too underfunded to have transmitter blocking technology. With any luck, and a little skill, he’d be meeting the Jet when it touched down in the woods outside the compound and be able to lend a hand in liberating the rest of the refugee’s into Moria’s care.

He cast a sidelong glance into Marie’s face to see that her eyes were now closed and that she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Good, that would make things a helluva lot easier.

Black Knight:

There was noise all around her. It buffeted Marie from every direction, made her flinch and keep her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She couldn’t remember where she was or how she got there, but the thumpity- thump in her chest was hard and fast and terrible. The noise was over suddenly, so slow falling, just a quick end to the din. She popped one eye open to see a familiar man standing in front of where she lay crumpled on the floor, her face pressed against the tiles. He was breathing hard panting long strained breaths. He lifted hands fitted with sharp and pointy knives to his head, raked furrows into his sweaty hair. It stood straight and tall on its long ends and she wondered how he didn’t cut all of it off every time he put his hands into it.

A tickle on her wrist had her looking down at her left hand, where a long thin strip of yellow ribbon was tied in a knot. It wouldn’t move, she knew as soon as she looked at it, unless you pulled just so on the one side and let the pieces slides around together. She surveyed the man in his black and shiny clothing, and noticed more of the ribbon.

Some broken synapses in her brain fired once, three times, unexpectedly she remembered only his name, that he’d gifted her the ribbon, and that she liked touching him. She crawled forward to wrap her arms around one of his legs just as he was turning around to her.

“Logan.” It came out on the heels of a bright eyed smirk.

Her hands travelled up his leg to his hand and when she found it offered to her, minus the knives, there was another fire or two of synapses. She knew they had buried themselves back into his hands, and rubbed the skin between his knuckles for a moment in the shared pain of hurting cutting things before slowly peeling his hand open. They weren’t clean hands, not by far, but he’d gotten the blood off and that she was happy for. Uglies tasted nasty. When she had his hand open, and the vulnerable flesh between his thumb and finger bared to her, she did what instinct called for. She bit him.

Gossip:

The tempting she-devil climbing all over him and driving him to new heights of desire might be as crazy as mad as a hatter but she knew exactly what she was doing. Her tongue traced the imprint of his teeth, the marks fading as if she were licking them away. He groaned and carefully grasped her injured hand where it was curled high around his thigh, pulling her up with a little more force than necessary and into a standing position.

“Marie,” he tightened his grip on her hip and wrist, and his lips brushed her when he spoke. “You are going to get us fuckin’ killed.” The kiss was hard, fast , fleeting, and a little sloppy. It was abruptly interrupted by his transmitter flaring to life.

“Logan?” Summers’ voice came loud and clear in the still silence of the bloody empty corridor, and Logan tore his mouth from hers. Despite the woman currently wrapping herself further and further around him, or perhaps because of it, the adrenaline of the fight hadn’t burned out of him yet.

“About fuckin’ time, One Eye.” Gently, and then more insistently when she wouldn’t respond to the more tender prodding, he removed Marie and backed them toward the nearby doorway. “What’s the ETA?” He headed for the door. Marie didn’t need any prodding to follow in his wake this time, she clung to him. Summers returned an estimated time of arrival at 30 minutes and they discussed a rendezvous point. All they had to do was stay safe and hidden until then.

“Logan, Charles wants to know who’s the girl you’ve got with you?” He growled aloud at the question, low and long an unmistakable warning even over the airways.

“Mine,” was his only reply. And he didn’t care how much Scooter talked about it, as long as everyone knew.

Obsession:
 
The world around her was… Marie couldn’t think of a word pretty enough, bright enough, soft enough, vivid enough to describe the green of the leaves in the early morning sunshine, the rough feel of the bark beneath her bare fingertips, or the pale blue color of the sky. The colors in all the myriad shades and hues with their varying depths and contrast were a feast for a girl that couldn’t even remember the feel of dirt beneath her toes.
 
To remind herself she dug her feet into it. She’d scrambled down off of Logan’s back as soon as he’d signaled that they were to stop. Her annoyance and anger at him for toting her around was completely forgotten when he finally, finally, let her explore the world again. She lifted her hands above her head, breathing deeply and twirling and spinning and happy.
 
“Logan!” She launched herself at him. A flying mass of dirty brown hair and bright happy eyes and long mostly bare limbs that she didn’t want to cover up ever again. He caught her easily. Gathering her close and whispering to her.
 
“Marie, sweetheart, we have to be quiet. The bad men will come if we’re not quiet.”
 
Even the mention of the Uglies couldn’t change her mood. Marie pushed up into his arms, her hands braced on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around her lower back. She stared at him, the sun glinting off his dark hair, how clear the green-brown of his eyes were. Her fingers traced his lips, along the line of his jaw, and across his cheek through his whiskers.
 
“You’re so beautiful…” She placed a quick on his forehead, nose, eyes, cheek bones, chin and finally his mouth. And she didn’t even stop the flying thing landed in their vicinity and belched out people.

Backlash:

Jeannie had that look on her face, the one that said she completely disapproved of whatever it was he was doing. Logan still had an armful of Marie so he felt secure in his deduction what exactly that was. When Marie noticed his wandering interest, she turned her attention to the X-Jet and Team of X-Men closing in on them. It saddened him to see her good mood come crashing down as she fought against his grip. When he loosened his hold on her she practically crawled over top of him in her effort to get behind him.

She peered around his side and watched as Scott, ‘Ro, and Jeannie, followed by three of the newly minted members, approached. Her body molded against his and it so completely occupied the animal within him back that it wasn’t until the third time he felt her push his hand forward did he realize what she wanted.

“Marie,” he whispered, trying desperately to get calm the scent of fear rising off of her, “they’re friends.”

She scowled up at him with those big brown eyes and watched as they flickered back and forth between trust and fear. He growled without knowing it and soon both sets of claws were flashing in the sunlight. He would have withdrawn them if she hadn’t calmed noticeably.

“Better?”

“Better, Logan. Better.” She focused on the rest of the team, her eyes narrowed again. “They don’t look like Uglies…” Her voice was skeptical and Logan could smell the uncertainly rolling off of her, her body reacted at the same time and her arms slid up in between them, gripping for purchase on the tight leather uniform he still wore. She began to mumble a repeated plea he didn’t recognize, it sounded like the prayers he heard when he sometimes went to Mass with Kurt.

“Not Uglies, though Cyke could try even your patience.” The little group stopped a dozen or so feet away from him, Jubilee’s eyes landing on his claws. It was the Cajun, though, who looked the most afraid.

“Logan,” Jean reached out with her mind, scanning him. He growled at her, annoyed that she’d do it in the first place instead of just talking to him. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips, but her eyes narrowed on him. “What’s with the claws?”

He shrugged. “Makes her feel better.” He saw Jeans refocus her attention, settle it on a place behind him. Before he could open his mouth t say speak, Marie screamed.

Lipstick:
 
Marie floated. She was aware, more aware than normal of the world around her. Had, in fact, been more aware of what was going on, more awake, than ever since he had been tossed into her room. She’d perked up, been paying more attention ever since the smell of him, the look of him, had caught her attention.
 
Her own motivations were behind everything she did, everything she said. Too long, she knew, she had spent hiding in herself pushing all the bad, angry, hurtful things away instead of dealing. It was easier to hide from the pain than it was try to sort it all out with all the noise, so just let it happen: got angry and annoyed, reacted instinctively instead of thinking and processing. Contemplation and musing had long ago been something that had fallen into disuse from lack of practice.
 
If Marie was honest with herself, which she rarely was, there was nothing left in the box she liked to pretend she kept safe from herself. It didn’t take a skilled liar to tell yourself a falsehood, especially considering that the one doing the lying was talking to thirty or so different personalities. The din in her brain was silent now, shocked into stillness by the pain in her skull. With her own ears she heard herself screaming, but pain was something she’d long learned to ignore and when his hands settled on her, she felt strong enough to put effort into thoughtful consideration. She heard her screams fade to painful moans and whimpers.
 
Then, for the first time in a long time, she listened and truly understood.
 
“Jeanie, what the fuck!” Logan, angry and distressed if the growl she heard, and had a curious urge to respond to was anything to go by.
 
“Logan…” Another man, annoyed, frustrated.
 
“No Scott, he’s right. I know there are possible consequences to skimming someone. It’s never been this bad before though, Logan I only skimmed her. The lightest of metal touches just in case of this possibility. I don’t know what wrong with her and I’m afraid to try again.” She was worried, this woman, sad and fearful with her tone full of remorse.
 
One voice broke free of the din, to ring a little clearer. “She’s sorry she hurt you.”
 
Marie thought about that for a moment. It was a new concept.
 
An idea struck her, absent and unrelated. She tried her hand at working it through. She thought of his lips on hers and the idea that he left something of himself behind was intoxicating.

Patience:

“You’re too big an asset, Logan.” The remark earned Scott a glare. Logan didn’t want to leave Marie in the Jet, every part of him fought against the idea of leaving her alone, but what kind of man would he be if he stayed behind while the rest of his team raided the lab? He gave Marie one last lingering touch, the skin of her cheek soft under his fingertips, before standing and striding down the ramp of the X-Jet. Scott didn’t follow.

He turned toward the back of the Jet where Jeannie was standing talking to Storm. They were all waiting on him before they went down to the lab to release the mutants there. Shadowcat was staying on board with Marie, her power being mostly defensive, and Jubilee and Gambit were lingering near the tree line, waiting or orders. Logan barely missed the Cajun stiffen and turn his torso distinctly away from him.

The defensive posture reminded Logan of the uncharacteristic fear he’s seen in LeBeau’s eyes as he’d approached him and Marie. He pivoted on his heel, changing his direction and stalking toward them. Jubilee muttered something and beat a hasty retreat when he neared.

“LeBeau.” He greeted, every sense turned into the man before him. Logan didn’t trust him, a thief with major connections in three of the largest associations in New Orleans, thrown out of state by his own people. It bothered Logan, that the Cajun’s own people hadn’t wanted the him, and the man wasn’t offering any explanations or excuses. He was cocky, arrogant, egomaniacal, and womanizing. Most of which Logan himself boasted of on occasion, which was probably why the other man rubbed him raw. But what he was concerned with now was the fear he could smell mixed in with the nonchalance Remy was layering on thick.

“Wolverine,” Gambit dipped his chin and touched his forehead in a salute. “It’s-“

“Drop the shit, fear reeks whether it’s thick with that damn cologne you wear or not. What the hell is goin’ on in that head of yours.” This time the accompanying growl that layered his words was intentional.

Gambit lifted his arms in a placating gesture and backed up closer to the treeline, his eyes darting back and forth between Logan’s hands and face. Interesting. Logan stepped forward and got the expected results.

“Listen, Logan, Gambit got no designs on your woman, none. Chere, she’s pretty is all. Can’t blame a guy for lookin’.” Logan laughed, laughed and used a hand on LeBeau’s shoulder to steady himself before he fell over. Gambit stared. Eventually his mirth subsided and his hand tightened on Gambit’s shoulder. His hazel eyes met Gambit’s red ones and held them for a long moment, the animal in him delighted when LeBeau’s gaze darted away quickly before meeting his again. It was enough.

“Make sure it stays that way.” Gambit found his voice again when Logan was halfway back to the jet.

“That lab was empty two months ago, Gambit searched it himself.” Logan turned their eyes meeting again. “So, that mean you can show me where the doc’s likely are?” Logan wanted to get his hands on the records there, to find out about Marie’s mutation and what had been done to her without having to ask.

“And who better to get you inside but ,moi?”

Wonder:

Marie awoke with a violent start and a low keening whine. She blinked her eyes and looked around for Logan. When he wasn’t among the first few things that she could see clearly, she sat up defensive and nonchalant at the same time. She ignored the new and curious surroundings of the room she was in, in favor of focusing on the half visible girl across the room from her.

The girl smiled, a bit shyly, and extended out a hand to Marie. “I’m Kitty. I’m Shadowcat too, but all my friends call me Kitty.”

Marie stared at her hand, but ultimately didn’t reach out for it. Instead she hopped down from the table to examine the room, her thoughts turning inward before she got very far. Where was Logan? Why wasn’t he here? Had he left her? “Logan?” It came out stronger than she thought it would, with an undertone of anger.

Kitty was ready for the question, answered it quickly. “He went with the others back to the lab; they’re going to let everyone go.”

Marie was aware, very clearly and neatly aware, that she was alone in her head for the moment. She wished that he were here for her to share this with and, for the first time in a long time, decided to try to keep her mind clear for as long as possible. She knew keeping calm was the key to her sanity and she turned her focus to it. She looked around the cabin again, seeing it finally without the haze. It was new, like no tech she’d ever seen before, and her fingers went unconsciously to her collar. Kitty noticed.

“Do you want that off, I’m pretty certain I can phase it off, it should only work if it’s around you and I don’t have to wrap around it to-”

“No!” She hadn’t meant to shout, she’d meant to keep her calm, she really had but she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She softened her features, aware of the tiny voices trying to creep into her thoughts. She fought them. “No,” she tried again. “I’m not… I’m not ready for it to come off. Promise me. Promise me you won’t let them take it off of me. I’m not crazy right now, I’m not. I’m just not ready for it to come off. Please.”

Kitty must have seen something in her eyes, the desperation, the plea, the promise that when she was ready she’d take it off, because she nodded. “Ok, ok. I won’t let anyone take it off. I promise, but first, you have to give me a name. Just a name and I won’t let anyone take it off.”

She thought for a moment, putting effort into thinking of a name to give her. Marie was unacceptable, Logan was the only one who knew it and she wanted it to stay that way. Then it came to her, something that the doctor in her home town had said about her skin. It was perfect.

“Rogue”

Logan clenched his fists, the papers in them crinkling and tearing. She’d been sold to the Friends of Humanity by someone out of New Orleans. Now all the shifty eyes and fear from the Cajun made a hell of a lot of sense. He moved to go find him, but buried the urge deep inside. Later, he would take care of it later. This was something bigger than him and Marie.

Still the urge to rip his lying fucking throat out was palpable. To think that Marie had gone through everything that she had because of someone the Cajun fucking knew. No wonder the guy had been volunteering to inspect labs and things for Xavier. He briefly wondered if he’d had a change of heart and that had been why his own people had disowned him. Or maybe they’d found out about his mutant smuggling ring.

Rage poured through him so hot and fierce that Jean, who was standing in the room with him, threw him a look of complete and utter astonishment.

“She’s practically been butchered, Jean.”

She came up to him and pulled the file from his hands, adding it to the many that she would be carrying back to the Blackbird. There were currently fifteen mutants being held in the compound, of those only nine could safely travel. The others would likely die in transport. Still they had to try, so Logan pushed what he’d learned into the back of him mind, and went to see out Cyke.

Marie sat huddled beneath the branches of a tree. She’s long ago lost her grip on the sanity that she’d forced and now sought refuge in the greenery until Logan’s return. Fear gripped her as she tried to press herself further into the bark of the tree.

It wasn’t long before someone would stop and notice her there and she hoped beyond all that there was that it would be him.

The man with the red eyes was walking past her now, his uniform glistening in the sun. He took away the light where happiness should have been and turned it into something awful, something evil. She wanted to scratch his awful eyes out. To rip his skin from his bones and feast on his flesh. Eww.

Marie spit into the dirt at the thought of his taste. Worse that the Uglies she’d bet. She waited for Logan, longed for him. He would make her feel better, calm the crying voices in her head and help her find her way. He would keep the red-eyed one at bay.

He was coming back, walking in front of her hiding space and must have seen or heard her. The next thing is he’s pulling her from her space, trying to haul her somewhere away and she’s kicking and screaming and bad blood bad blood gone gone gone gone!

“Logan!”

She’s screaming and kicking and hollering and people are all around her. Hands all over her, his hands.

“Calm down, chere. It’s ok, you’ll be alright.”
“Let me go, let me go!” She’s screaming at the top of her lungs and then she hears footsteps, and the sing of the claws and suddenly she’s on the floor and crying and just happy that he’s come back.

He’s just coming out of the lab and into the clearing when he hears her scream his name, and he knows, he just knows that he shouldn’t have left her behind. Abandoning the people that Jean is ushering out of the compound, he tears across the wide expanse and into the little grove behind the jet.

The Cajun is there, his hands all over her trying to contain a kicking and screaming and biting Marie. The claws are out before he realizes it and in one smooth breath he tells Remy to let her go.

Her own cries echo his own.

Remy drops her where he stands and she scrambles back into the treeline, looking for all the world like she’s going to climb into it.

“Baby, come here.” He calls out to her, but she isn’t listening. She’s too far gone and he needs to make sure that this ends here and now. He focuses most of his attention on the Cajun while trying hard as hell not to frighten Marie further into the forest.

“I swear to fucking god if you lay another hand on her you’re going to regret it, bub.” The Cajun backs away, his hands in the air.

“Listen homme, I was only trying to get her back onto the ship, I promise. Chere, she a little messed up right now. Remy no want her to get lost or anything.” He’s seething and he can smell the fear coming off of both Remy and Marie right now and it’s making his animal howl. But he can’t let the mess with the Cajun fuck Marie up anymore that it already has.

“Your ass is mine Cajun, I don’t care what goes on back at the Mansion.” And he leaves it at that, heading off into the forest to track Marie down.

She can’t help but running and running when she hears someone tearing through the forest after her. Fear and silence don’t go hand in hand for Marie. She panting and screaming and running and falling and it’s not until she hears him calling her name that she stops.

He’s there to catch her when she falls.

She’s sobbing now, after facing the worst thing she’s faced in forever. It’s worse than the cutting and the burning and pain pain pain to see someone she’s known from before. From before her troubled times. Before the lab and the experiments and the people people people in her head talking and talking.

She needs something , anything that’ll take her mind off of it so she clings to Logan. She holds onto him for dear life as she cries and cries. Eventually the tears dry up and she’s like a hollow shell with no insides. And she realizes that she wants to talk. She desperately wants to tell him something, anything that doesn’t make her sound like a crazy person, but she can’t because her head is filled with people and thery’re all talking and it’s like being at a baseball game or in a bar fight where you can’t hear anyone clearly but you can hear all of them just the same.

She remembers why she quit trying to be on all the time. It was so damn hard, it was tiring and it was hard and it made her head hurt. She’d rather be simple and crazy instead of hard. And when you’re crazy you can’t dwell on the things, the bad things like how you can’t go back to being the way you were before. You don’t have to think about the way you are now, the things that happen to you now. You don’t have to worry or cry or do anything but be simple and crazy.

So instead of talking, of speaking, she just clings to him, her hands wrapped around his neck and her face pressed to his skin. And she pretends that she’s ok, that she’ll be fine, and that she’ll live Happily Ever After.

Logan holds her there in the forest surrounded by trees. He can hear Jeannie as she gets the others on board the plane and stands, cradling her against him as he walks back toward the jet. She’s fragile right now, he can feel it radiating out of her and he wonders where the girl from the escape has gone.

She’s still there, he tells himself as she presses her face further into his neck, and she’s just hurting right now. For one black moment he wonders if she’ll still want to be around him at all when she’s well again. They don’t exactly have a lot to go on except for a few instincts on his part.

Still, he’s not going to abandon her and maybe, just maybe, he can be a part of her life still.

He brushes those thoughts aside and makes his way across the clearing. After a moment she wiggles and he lets her down, still keeping an arm around her waist. He wonders what she’s thinking.

When the climb the ramp into the bird he’s relieved to see that the Cajun has made himself scarce, in the cockpit if he had to guess. They buckle into seats and, as the last ones on the plane, Storm readies for flight.

She pulls into him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and burying her face against his chest. He can’t bring himself to pull back from her, like he knows that he should. He doesn’t have the right to lean on her the way he did when they were both stuck in that lab.

He thinks she probably won’t want to remember anything associated with the place where they met.

Marie holds on to her sanity for a little while after they get back to the mansion. She’s determined to be real in front of the man that Jean says can help her. She owes it to them, to be healthy and whole, after what Logan’s gone through to make her safe again.

All the pain and the years of violence flash in front of her one last time when she’s standing in front of the Professor and his big wooden desk. She’s trying to keep track of what he’s saying while beating back the voices.

Suddenly the voices lower to a quiet murmur and all she can hear is him speaking to her and her own thoughts.

“I can help you, Marie. I can help you to be alone again in your mind. But first, you have to agree and you have to work with Jean so that we can.”

She reaches out to Logan and he’s there without hesitation. Her fingers dance on his and he grips hers sending calming and softness into her.

“OK. I can do this. But- but Logan has to stay with me.”

It’s a blur, when they get back down to the med bay, and she’s filled with panic and adrenaline before she can take one step into it. But Logan’s there at her back and whispering into her ear.

“It’s ok baby. I know it sucks, believe me I been there, but if you want to get better you have to.” So she steels her resolve and marvels at the new space she has in her mind and walks forward into the med bay. She can do this. She can do it for herself and for him.