Prologue:

Groaning softly Logan blinked up at Jean, "Don't that tickles," swallowing hard, he tried to ignore how dry his mouth was. Tried to get his mind back in working order instead of the fuzzy tangled mess it currently was.

Jean smiled softly, "How you feeling?"

"Fantastic," Logan shot back quickly.

With a slight nod Jean stared at him, her face haunted, "That was a brave thing you did."

"Did it work?" Logan asked desperately, seeking reassurance that he'd saved her. Holding his breath he waited for an answer even as the seconds ticked by slowly, maddeningly, each one making him that much more uneasy.

"I'm sorry Logan, really I am," Jean started even as he tensed, turning his head away from her. "We thought it might, but she just couldn't recover."

"When?" he croaked sitting up weakly, "When are you going to..?" he couldn't finish the thought, couldn't yet say she was dead.

"This afternoon, at three. But you aren't in any condition.."

"Where?"

"Here. We're going to lay her to rest under the huge oak tree. The Professor thought it would be a good idea to set aside some of the grounds for a resting place for us," Jean said softly watching Logan. Even with her mental shields up she could feel the grief and guilt pouring off him, feel the anger that lay just beneath the surface.

Nodding Logan stared at the wall anger mixing with his grief. Fuck! He'd failed her! He'd been too slow and it had cost Marie her life. With a dark look at Jean, who left quickly, he tried to stem the tears, to hold back any signs of grief or loss but couldn't.

Like the silence that choked the room, two tears slipped past his control, wetting his cheeks even as he felt himself start to reinforce, rebuild the walls Marie had torn down. Even as he felt the emotional turmoil he was in reach into his chest and start to choke him. The desperate need to hide, to run starting an ache deep within his chest, drawing out the darkness in his soul.


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At three standing under the heavy oak tree dressed in black, Logan glared at those around him, his hands clenched in his pockets. As the heavy casket was slowly lowered into the ground he stepped forward, silently watching as Marie found her final resting place.

The preacher's words were hollow, barely penetrating the fog in Logan's mind as he stood there. He watched as everyone tossed flowers, into the grave, offered a word or two about her, yet he didn't offer anything. What could he say? That she was the only reason he was there? That he'd just lost everything in the world that mattered to him? They would never understand that sentiment, after all you didn't find forever with someone you knew a week!

Long after the others had retreated to the mansion Logan stood there, silently letting the anger build, letting the Wolverine take control. He could feel the pain in his hands as his claws started to come out but pushed them back in, soon he'd think of what he was going to do, soon. Right now though he couldn't move, couldn't walk away from her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as a light rain began to fall, "I failed and I'm sorry," allowing it to soak his clothes, his face, welcoming it upon the damp flesh Logan stood there, letting the rain wash away the tears, letting himself feel for a few moments. "I am so sorry, kid."

With a final glance at the grave, Logan turned and headed back for the mansion. It was time to leave, time to return to what he did best - be alone.



Chapter One

A blue haze filled the dingy hotel room even as the sweet stench of burning tobacco soaked the air. A hockey game blared from the television and a long row of empty beer bottles decorated the dresser in the room, spilling over onto the floor, dampening the carpet.

Laying on the bed Logan stared unseeingly at the ceiling, his face twisted with a dark look. Taking a long pull of his cigar he exhaled, his claws coming out with a sickening screech. Staring at them he shifted, kicking at the impatient body on the foot of the bed, the smell of her fear sickening to him.

A low growl echoed in the room as Logan shifted his gaze to the woman, who stared back at him her eyes focused on the claws. Another town, another hooker, another night of waiting to feel anything. Waiting to feel some thrill race through him at the sight of a naked woman, only to feel no desire. Instead, guilt plagued him, making him feel as though he were betraying `her', betraying everything she meant to him.

Listening to the hooker as she quickly gathered her coat and slipped out the door he shook his head. As the door clicked shut, tired hazel eyes fell on the green duffel bag that sat on the floor, it had remained with him since her funeral.

Rising he padded over to it, sinking to his knees before it to trace a hand over the contours of the bag. He knew what was inside it, her clothes, a teddy bear, some pictures of Alaska, personal items no one would want, no one but him.

"I'll take care of you!" Laughing harshly at himself he shook his head tiredly. "God did I ever let you down baby girl," The scowl faded to be replaced by the customary twisted expression of grief, pain, and guilt.

Closing his eyes, he dropped his head onto his chest, memories assaulting him. He could still clearly see Jean's face when he'd gone after Rogue's belongings, see the pity in her eyes, hid only by the faint traces of attraction she'd denied the entirety of their association.

Both emotions had died quickly when he'd merely shoved past her and stalked down the hall toward the lower levels, toward the garage. There hadn't been anyone else fool enough to step into his path and he'd quickly made his escape.

Hitting the road he'd taken Scott's bike only to ship it back when he found another truck. Now he lived in it most of the time, accept when he was fighting. And he'd had several fights tonight which was why he was laying in a motel room.

Stretching out, he rested his head on the bag, inhaling the familiar mix of his and Marie's scent. Smiling slightly he let it wash over him, bringing with it the memories he had of her, the ones he wanted to cling to. Her in his truck, talking, acting like she wasn't scared, acting like she knew she could trust him.

He wondered what she'd say if she saw him now. Would she disapprove of him fighting? He hoped she would understand, the fights were the only avenue of escape he had. Never one to be highly emotional he didn't know how to deal with the pain of losing her with anything but violence. So every night he stomped some poor sonuvabitch into the ground for a few bucks and tried to pretend he wasn't hurting.

Most nights he woke screaming her name, almost desperate to make himself believe that she was fine. Make himself believe that she was alive and well in Westchester, but he never could - not really. Instead he spent the remainder of the night curled up on the impersonal bed he was in, whether it was a hotel or the camper and cried until he was hoarse, until he couldn't cry anymore.

He'd curl up in her things, clinging to her bag in a weak attempt at deluding himself that she was still alive. Ignoring the burning of tears on skin that wasn't used to the moisture. Sinking deeper into the emotional quicksand he lived in, clinging to a memory in quiet desperation.


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Awake long before dawn, Logan rose tiredly and padded into the bathroom for a shower before he packed up the meager belongings he had in the room and headed for the truck, heading further north.

Pulling into the grocery store on his way out of town, Logan hurried inside a dark scowl on his face as he grabbed a few things only to come to a dead stop in front of the magazine rack. Another copy of another magazine that featured Alaska joined his rapidly growing collect, along with a couple cheap scarves and a key chain that read MARIE on it.

Securing everything in the truck Logan fueled up before hitting the road, not once looking back. Had anyone of the X-men been there to snoop through his truck they would have all said he was insane, that he'd lost what little mind he had left.

His glove box was full of beef jerky and a couple pairs of gloves, the storage areas and cupboards in his truck and the newly purchased camper were filled with reminders of a dead girl. In fact had they seen in it, they would have wondered just who's camper it was Logan's or Marie's. But none of the X-men were there. And once again Logan was alone, traveling a road that ended nowhere.


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"I'm sorry Marie," Logan whispered as he leaned against the front fender, his eyes on an eagle soaring above him, "If I'd been a bit smarter, a bit more..God you'd still be here."

Knowing no answer was forthcoming, Logan shifted, crushing out his cigar in his palm before getting back in the truck. It had been two months since he'd left New York behind him. Another week and he'd be in Laughlin, back where it had all started.

Staring at the windshield Logan glanced at the calendar that hung from his dash. Tomorrow was Saturday, the day he did nothing. No fights, no paid for hooker that he didn't use, no traveling, nothing but the darkness that ate at his very soul.


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Scott glanced up from where he sat working on his new bike and sighed. The familiar shadow of the groundskeeper moved through the early morning sunshine toward the oak. As was usual he carried a long, thin box, no card, nothing but the long stemmed thornless roses that had been arriving every Saturday since the week after Rogue had died.

"He still sending them," Jean murmured behind Scott, it was a statement not a question.

"Yeah," Scott replied as they watched while another dozen joined those already clustered around the headstone. Each week the same vivid red roses were placed so they offered shade, kept the wind tossed leaves and other debris off the headstone.

"He feels guilty about it," Jean whispered softly. "We all do to some extent."

"Maybe if we'd been a little faster, it would have saved her. Maybe then we could have.." Scott glanced at his wife sadly and nodded. Yes Logan felt guilty but more than that Logan felt devastated. It was obvious to everyone that Logan had cared for Rogue a great deal, more than any of them had understood.

"Has the Professor been able to find him?"

"No," Jean sighed, "Give it some time." Jean said before moving off toward Rogue's grave.

Immaculately kept, the grave was flanked by dozens of roses, several small rose bushes had been planted and the small headstone wreathed by roses was clean. The Professor had ordered it for her the day they'd buried her, and Jean knew he had watched over the grave from his window. Watching, waiting, hoping that Logan would realize that he wasn't alone in his pain. It hadn't worked out that way, and instead Logan had disappeared, and a few days later the roses had started.

Kneeling beside it, Jean reached out to trace the etchings, her hand over the name engraved in the granite. "Hey Rogue, he sent more flowers today," she whispered softly, "I know you would have wanted us to watch over him, but you know Logan. He's too stubborn and independent for his own good at times. Oh we know he's alive, probably fighting again. It would be nice to know the little things, but I have a feeling you're watching over him. Jubilee and Kitty are doing okay, so is Bobby. I think he was taken with you, he cried a couple days but I think he's healing. Storm's doing good, well really everyone is. We miss you," Jean brushed aside a tear. "Well I suppose I should get back to work now. Rest easy Rogue, trust us. We'll find him and bring him home."

With unconscious grace Jean rose to her feet and headed back for the mansion. Smiling slightly at the faint breeze that kicked up, stirring her hair, drying the tears on her face. There was so much that Rogue had never experienced, and yet in a way Rogue was an old woman. It hurt that she was gone, and Jean wondered how Logan was holding up to the battle within himself.

It amazed Jean the way Rogue's death had drawn people together, yet somehow Logan had slipped through that little banding party. Perhaps it was because he never really let anyone in, or maybe it was simply that he ran before anyone had a chance to realize he was hurting. Whatever the reason, Logan's pain had been over looked, and he was gone, even if every week fresh red roses appeared, offering the only reassurance that Logan was still very much alive.


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Sucking back on his beer Logan slouched over the bar, his jacket pulled up around his neck as he hunched over in the darkness of the honky-tonk he'd found on the way across Manitoba. The pain hadn't lessened, nothing helped ease the ache, not even the liberal amounts of alcohol he consumed daily.

"You in town for the fights?" the bartender, a heavy set man sucking on a sucker, asked quickly as he set another beer down in front of Logan.

"Yeah."

"If you wanna get on the roster, you better see Dolly, she'll hook you up with anything you need."

"Thanks," Logan grunted eying the statuesque blonde who smiled warmly at him even as she leaned forward exposing her cleavage to him.

A few months before he'd have smiled, flirted, even nailed her, now all he wanted from her was his name on the fight sheet. With a slight growl he tossed her his name and ordered another beer. Taking a long swig he glanced around the bar room, his mind wandering to the dark eyed innocence that had captured his soul.

Logan regretted many things in his life but he didn't regret meeting Marie. She'd given him something he hadn't even realized he was searching for. In Marie he'd seen the youthful exuberance he was certain he had once felt, the pure aspect of life untainted by his darkness. With a sigh, Logan dropped his gaze back to his beer, tomorrow was Saturday. Tonight he would fight, collect a few bucks and head out. Tomorrow he'd be parked somewhere out of the way and enjoy the day when he let himself feel.

In a way he welcomed the pain, that he felt it showed that he was still alive. Showed that he hadn't completely lost it, even if he knew he would never have what he wanted most in life, he still clung to her memory.

Sitting waiting around until the fights started, Logan eyed the competition. Most of them were fat, drunk red-necks without any skill. Easily beaten, easy money, a couple looked like they followed the fight circuit, and he hoped he got one of them. He wanted a fight that would get nasty, one that would let him explode in anger in the cage.

When his name was called he rose, padded shirtless into the cage, his mind on the fight. A fight that was over before it had really even begun. The drunken red-neck who'd challenged him was hardly worth the effort it took to knock him out. The rest of the night, Logan pounded the shit outta every challenger that came into the cage, his anger exploding in a tidal wave that destroyed everything in its path.

Stepping outta the cage, Logan donned his shirts, his coats, and headed for the bar to collect his winnings. Ordering a beer he drank it quickly before ordering another.

"You sure there ain't anything else I can do for you?" the honeyed words provoked a snarled response from Logan as he headed for the door.

"Not likely," Logan growled as he pushed the door open and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the summer night he sighed. It was close to midnight, close to Saturday and his emotions were pushing at him.

Stalking across the parking lot, his boots crunching on the gravel beneath them Logan glanced up. A clear night had settled its warmth on the area, the dark blue of the night sky broken only by the thousands of tiny flickering stars.

Smiling sadly Logan shook his head, "You'd love the view tonight, kid."

With an angry twist of his hand he found his keys and jerked the door of the truck open before sliding behind the wheel. Starting the engine he paused, his eyes resting on his knuckles, he hadn't used his claws this time but they still hurt.

Two months, six days, and four hours, he thought, only eternity left to go as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed west, following a route he wasn't sure of the end of.



Chapter Two

Eying the rather large accumulation of roses on Rogue's grave Charles sighed and glanced at Jean and Scott. Storm would be joining them momentarily, but it didn't matter. Everyone saw, everyone knew. As was usual on Saturday morning, fresh flowers had been laid, the dead blooms removed, and the grave tended lovingly.

"This isn't healthy," Scott said softly as he stood there with Jean wrapped in his arms.

"No it is not," Charles replied, "I have been able to locate Logan, but he's never in one place long enough to make contact. I tried reaching his mind, and got a very clear leave me alone message. Logan doesn't want to come back just yet."

"I don't understand this. He did everything he could, more than the rest of were capable of," Jean murmured. "So why is he still plagued by guilt?"

"It's not guilt," Charles stated softly. "It's grief. He feels lost without her."

"Lets hope that he realizes that he's not alone," Storm said moving forward with a sad smile. "I believe someday he may return, as long as he knows he can."

Scott, Jean, and Charles eyed Storm before turning to look once more at the brightly colored blooms under the oak tree. Perhaps Logan would return, but under what circumstances. It was obvious that Logan had fallen back into the routine he'd established before he'd met Marie, to find him was rather easy actually. Just follow the fight circuit and sooner or later you'd find him, but would you really be finding Logan or would you find Wolverine?


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Parked in an all day parkade Logan walked the streets of Calgary, a pensive look on his face as he spotted a jewelry store a block up the street. Shifting mental gears he walked toward it, stepping inside easily.

Glass cases lined with expensive jewelry lined the interior of the room as he walked toward the lone occupant of the store, a middle aged man who stood watching him carefully.

"Good morning sir," the man said politely, his expression one of veiled disbelief.

"Morning. You do custom orders?" Logan pointed to the sign in the window.

"Yes sir, we try to fill any order we get."

Logan nodded reaching up to his neck and pulling off his tag, staring at it he sighed, "I want a replica of this."

"Same insignia?"

"No," Logan replied quickly, his scowl firmly in place. "I want this put onto it," he handed the man a slip of paper and watched him read over it easily.

"What substance do you want it to be? We do most of our work.."

"Platinum or titanium," Logan sneered. "I doubt if you have adamantium. And I want it with four little holes in it, one at each corner. Its for mounting on a granite head stone."

"It'll take me a day or so to get it done," the man warned quickly taking a sketch of the tag before handing it back, a slight but noticeable tremble in his fingers.

Logan grunted an acknowledgment then whirled and walked out of the store, headed somewhere. Striding down the street Logan ignored the stares from those around him, ignoring everything but the cold metal grasped in his palm. Spotting a bar he headed for it, might as well grab a beer before heading back to his motel room, to the small hell he lived in.


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The flickering blue light from the television was the only illumination as Logan lay on the bed staring at the scarf tangled in his fingers. The empty duffle bag that sat beside the bed revealed where it had come from. He moved his hand, tangling his fingers deeper into it, letting it wrap tighter around his fingers until all he could feel was silk.

It was purple with sparkles on it, and smelled of her even after all this time. He remembered it being the one she was wearing the night on the train, it had come off when Magneto kidnapped her and he'd picked it up and kept it.

"I sure miss you," Logan muttered. "Sometimes I think about going back to Xavier's, but I can't. What would I do there? I think if it had been just us, we'd have gone places. I know though that you needed Xavier's help, needed what he could offer. You skin was always a spot of tension with you baby," Logan smiled, bringing his silk encased fist to his face and inhaling, "Didn't mean much to me. I understood what it meant Marie, cause I've been there."

"Its kinda hard when you're a prisoner in your own skin, of your own mutation. Just wish you'd had the chance to decide for yourself if you were going to be a prisoner, or if you were going to be free of it. I would have helped you, helped ease the ache that you felt kid."

Uncaring that his conversation was with a scarf, he shrugged, "I guess that things aren't always like we want 'em to be though. I think the Professor's been trying to get in my head. Not very successful let me tell you, figured out how to put up a wall that says stay out! I'm glad though that I still have you. No matter where I am I know you're with me. Just wish things were different that you were here with me in person Marie," Logan paused, frowning slightly. "I miss you."

Closing his eyes, Logan inhaled the scent, curling up amongst her things and drifting off, unconcerned about his usual nightmares, the ones about Marie were far more terrifying.


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Three days later, Logan was parked in a familiar parking lot staring at a familiar looking building a cigar clenched between his teeth. "Laughlin City."

"Well back where it started," he said softly, sliding from his truck and rolling his shoulders. "Probably get thrown back out but hey, its worth it." Walking quickly into the bar he stopped, letting his eyes get accustomed to the dim lighting. A different bartender stood pouring out beers for people and he moved toward the bar, settling on the stool Marie had been setting on when he'd first seen her.

"What'll it be?"

"Beer," Logan snapped out the order, tossing money on the counter and accepting the beer. "They have fights here?"

"Not tonight. Boss's outta town and he's the one that approves the fights."

Logan nodded and sat nursing his beer, "Don't matter," finishing his beer he rose and walked out of the bar, heading for his truck. It didn't really matter, he wasn't here for the fights, he was here cause 'she'd' been there.

Getting in the truck he started the engine and pulled out, heading along the highway north. Following a familiar highway even as his mind refused to dwell on the fact that he was traveling alone.

Nearly a week later he was sitting in Jasper, parked in a relatively empty parking lot staring at the Rockies, a cigar clenched in his hand. Just like very Saturday, he spent the day wrapped up in memories of Marie, emotions that overwhelmed him. Leaning his head on his hand propped on the door of his truck he sat there, watching the massive peaks swim in the tears he could feel washing down his face.

"Four months baby, four very long, painful months and still got an eternity to go."

He didn't know what it was about her that wouldn't let go, that he couldn't LET go of. Maybe it was the fact that she was dangerous, just like he was. That she could kill with a touch, that she looked soft, and sweet, and helpless but a touch could bring pain, even death. Maybe it was the look in her dark eyes that night he'd stabbed her.

The shock, the pain, and underneath it the appreciation just before her sense of self preservation had kicked in and she'd touched him. Touching him that soon after the rush of adrenaline she'd gotten a full blast of his memories, of his nightmares and she still hadn't turned away from him. She'd offered him unconditional trust, and he'd swore he wouldn't let her down.

Only he had, he hadn't been fast enough to save her from Magneto. And he was alive and she wasn't. He'd survived Magneto, but he'd lost Marie and that killed him. Reacting in anger he unfurled his claws, slashing through the interior of the cab until he wedged them into his chest, enjoying the pain, enjoying the feeling of his blood oozing out past the blades even as he knew that the wounds would heal.

With a sigh he leaned his head back against the headrest, his thoughts sluggish even as his healing factor kicked in. She'd offered him a home, something that no one had ever offered him before. And they had taken it away. They took everything the trust, the warmth, the light from him when they killed her and it wasn't a pleasant realization.

Even as the darkness swirled around him, pulling at him he felt the anger grow. He would make them all sorry, tomorrow he'd start hunting them one by one until there was no one left! He would enjoy killing Mystique, and that hairball Sabertooth if he was still alive, but the one he wanted the most was Magneto himself. Him, he would kill over and over again!

"Don't you worry baby, none of 'em are gonna be lonely much longer," he promised. "Mystique's first. Her and her blue scaly ass are gonna feel the pain before I'm finished. Gonna take a while to kill her, make her beg for it. Then I'm gonna get Sabertooth, he's gonna be a hard kill but I will kill him. Make 'em all sorry they took you."

Letting the darkness in, his last thought was that Marie would have loved the sunset.



Chapter Three

Sitting in the growing sunlight, Logan puffed away on his cigar, relishing the pain letting it fuel his anger. Letting it awaken the Wolverine, the animal within him. He was going to enjoy this hunt, because when it was over they'd understand what it meant to hurt.

It took Logan a couple of days to get a lead on Mystique before he back tracked, heading for Ontario where she was hid out. Once there, it didn't take much effort to get her, in fact the stupid bitch walked right into his trap.

He was parked in front of a bar watching the doors, puffing away on a cigar when he saw her appear. He sneered as he watched the blue scaled bitch morph into a tall, beautiful red head and stroll inside.

Patience, he told himself as he sat there waiting, watching for her to come back out. Following her slowly, being careful to keep a safe distance between them he trailed her to a small cabin that was set deep in a stand of pines.

Sitting in the dark he watched her come and go for a couple of days before he made his move. She was coming back from the bar, when he grabbed her. Slamming her face first into the wall of the cabin he heard the crunch of her bones breaking, even as he jerked her back toward him.

Ducking when she whirled striking out at him he smiled slightly, his hand shooting up to grab her around the throat and slam her back against the wall for a moment before he pulled her toward him. Dragging her bodily into the interior of the cabin he threw her on the floor.

"What do you want?" she hissed rising painfully to her feet.

"Your heart on a platter," Logan snarled swinging with his claws, cutting deeply and watching the blood start to flow. He could smell her fear, taste the coppery tang of her blood and he reveled in it, embraced it.

Smiling, acknowledging the stench of her fear Logan hit her again, knocking her back into the wall, where she slid slowly to the floor in a graceless heap. Revenge would be sweet, and he fully intended to take advantage of it!


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Two days later Logan was sitting on the porch watching the wind in the trees, a satisfied snarl coming from his chest. She hadn't been so tough, it hadn't taken her long to start begging and he was really good at making her beg.

Finally his patience had deserted him and he'd finished her off quickly, leaving her to rot in the cabin, but not before he found out that Sabertooth was still very much alive and in Washington State hiding out.

Rising he took another puff off his cigar and tossed it behind him, ignoring the way the cabin went up in flames. The snap and crackle of the flames as they devoured the old wood was soon over shadowed by the stench of burning flesh, not that Logan noticed or even cared.
Instead he got into his truck, turned the key and headed south back along the Trans Canada. He'd cross over the border in a day or two, then he'd track that big fur ball before he killed him.


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Jean stepped into the Professor's office and stared at him. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, please have a seat," Charles said even as the sound of the door opening and Scott and Storm stepped inside. "Please have a seat Scott, Ororo."

"What's going on?"

"I just got some news," Charles started. "Mystique is dead."

"What? How?" Storm stared at Charles.

"If I had to wager on this," Charles said softly, his tone accepting. "I'd have to say Logan."

"Logan? Logan's so mired in grief that I doubt if he even knows where she is," Scott started.

"There's this as well," Charles said softly and turned to the cloth covered block on his desk. Jerking the cloth off he stared at the trio across from him.

"That's Rogue's marker!" Jean gaped. "What's it doing here?"

"There's a new one in its place," Charles said. "One I think you should all see."

"Of course sir," Rising Scott held the door for the others before they all headed outside to where the roses blew in the gentle breeze.

Stopping next to it, they all glanced down and gasped. The stone was decorated with elaborately carved roses and an angel. But it was the writing that drew everyone's attention.

"Marie an Angel, my Angel!" Jean looked at Charles. "Where did this come from?"

"I don't know. But look at the plaque beneath the inscription."

Kneeling Jean stared at the shiny metallic surface, "Rogue 10 08 2000, that's when they met, the day they were attacked by Sabertooth. What does that mean?"

"I don't know but I do know that this is Logan's handiwork," Charles said softly. "He's sliding deeper into the darkness. I found him again last night, reached into his mind. Its not good."

"We need to find him, to bring him home," Scott said. "Regardless of how I feel about the jerk, Logan doesn't need this sort of insanity pushed upon him."

"He's accepting it," Charles said softly. "In his own way Logan is doing exactly what he knows he doesn't want to be. He's becoming more and more like the Wolverine, and letting the human side of him fall away. Jean, you and Storm are going to Washington State. Sabertooth is there in a small town called Bender Bay, Logan isn't far behind the miscreant. I want you to make contact with him. Try to get him to come back."

"And if he won't?"

"Bring him back, no matter what method you have to use," Charles said softly. "Before he spirals too far beyond our help."

"Professor, why isn't he trying to stop the spiral. Surely he knows what he's doing?" Scott asked softly.

Charles sighed, "He's striking out at those that hurt him. Reacting rather than planning. Logan isn't doing the thinking this time, Wolverine is."

"Why would Wolverine be so determined to get those that killed Rogue? She was just another body, another person invading his space.."

"No," Charles sighed and looked at the trio who were staring back at him. "Rogue was the only one Wolverine and Logan ever let in, let past those defenses he has. Frankly I'm surprised he didn't tear this place apart before he left."

"We'll bring him home."

"I know you will," Charles said watching as his adult students walked away. He was concerned for Logan, for the darkness that was in the man's head. This was not something as easily dealt with as his nightmares, the memories were fresh, deep, and the pain primal. Even if they managed to get Logan back here, it may already be too late to reach him.


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A cramped room in a rundown hotel out on the interstate was home for Logan this week. He'd found Sabertooth yesterday, hiding out in a rundown warehouse. Now it was simply a matter of killing him, something Logan was taking a great deal of pleasure in planning.

With Sabertooth, he would have to be quick, merciless and just as deadly as his opponent. He very seriously doubted that Sabertooth would just let him walk up and cut his head off, no he would have to be more cunning than that.

As the sun set and darkness fell, Logan shifted off the bed rolling agilely to his feet. He had work to do, and an overgrown junkyard dog to gut. Pulling on his leather coat he glanced around the room, grabbing his keys, his eyes falling on the key chain attached to them with a slight smile. Another small memento attached to it, another piece of his soul wrapped around a memory.

Tossing and catching his keys he headed downstairs for the parking lot, his steps light and a twisted sort of smile on his face as he opened the truck door. Tonight was going to be fun, he was going to relish the idea of killing Sabertooth.

The thought that Sabertooth could kill him easily didn't even draw a moments hesitation from Logan as he cranked over the engine. Death was something he didn't fear, especially when it brought him that much closer to her.

The drive to the warehouse was short but twisted as he took the back streets, alleys, and low profile streets so that if anyone was watching for him they would think he was going somewhere else besides his true destination.

Parking his truck a couple of blocks away, Logan closed the door quietly and took a deep breath of sea air before he strode off down the sidewalk. Keeping to the shadows, letting his instincts guide him, he tracked the familiar smell until he came to the door of the warehouse.

Tonight there was another scent with Sabertooth, one that was unfamiliar and Logan shrugged it off. Whoever it was would suffer along with him, he wasn't being choosy in the moment. Slipping inside soundlessly he kept himself down wind of the tall, yellow furred man he could clearly see standing in front of a woman who looked, and smelt terrified.

Shaking his head, Logan moved through the darkness that was the warehouse until he was less than an arm's length away from Sabertooth then he struck. The sharp sound of his claws coming out drew Sabertooth's attention and he whirled right into three hundred pounds of adamantium laced fury. The claws sank deep into his chest, cutting and slicing on their way through even as he jerked back roaring in pain.

With this new threat, the woman was forgotten as Sabertooth reacted striking out at his attacker. Feeling the pain lancing through his body, he growled and stared at the familiar figure he'd fought twice before.

"Wolverine," the low, angry snarl echoed in the empty building.

"Sabertooth," Wolverine returned, "Never got to finish bub."

Baring his teeth, Sabertooth reached for his enemy, his fist closing around air as the smaller man ducked back. A moment later he was roaring again as six claws lodged themselves in his chest, and he felt the tear of flesh as they were jerked upwards.

The stench of fresh blood filled the air, along with the grunts and snarls of two wild animals locked in a battle for supremacy. The thud of a body hitting the ground had barely settled before the pain filled roars, and snarls would continue.

With a sharp movement Wolverine kicked at Sabertooth's chest, his booted foot catching him at just the right angle and knocking him off balance. Seeing the man teetering, stumbling as he tried to regain his balance, Wolverine struck. The sharp glint of six blades sliced through the air, imbedding in flesh and bone before striking through the air again, the silvery surface now tinted with red.

Watching as Sabertooth's head rolled across the floor, Wolverine snarled at the pain in his body. He could smell his own blood along with the acrid malodor of Sabertooth's blood and fear. The fear had him stiffening and his head jerked up to where the woman still sat motionless. He could hear her heart pounding, hear her breathing as it stuttered over itself, and he stared at her. Heavy rope bound her hands and feet, which explained why she hadn't run from the building, and a thick piece of material was wrapped around her head making her unable to scream.

Unfurling his claws he sank them into Sabertooth's chest, slicing through his heart and shredding it easily before he rose and walked toward the woman who struggled in her binding, her eyes large and filled with fear.

With a low snarl, Wolverine cut the gag away, smelling the woman's tears as she sat there.

"Please don't kill me," she whimpered as he sliced through the ropes that bound her.

With a dispassionate glance at her, Wolverine shrugged and walked away. She wasn't his responsibility, wasn't anything to him but another useless body. Slipping soundlessly back into the night he headed for his truck, his body already starting to heal, to patch itself together again.



Chapter Four

Shaking her head Storm glanced at Jean who was standing staring at the ratty old hotel that the Professor had said Logan was in, "You sure this is safe?"

"No," Jean sighed. "But unless you've got a better idea.."

"The only idea I have is using that tranquillizer on him and hauling his ass back to the bird before getting home."

"I doubt seriously if he's going to go," Jean sighed, "At least without the drug in his system. I hope I brought enough.."

"How much did you bring?"

"Enough to knock out an elephant," Jean replied as she started up the back stairs, "But with Logan's healing factor I wonder if it's going to be enough to last the two hours it takes to get back to Westchester."

"Well we'll see I suppose. If nothing else you're just going to have to use your powers to keep him stationary."

"Ooh, that's such a warming thought," Jean replied as they stopped outside of the door. Knocking sharply she waited but got no response. "Logan? Logan it's Jean and Storm, open up."

"Is he even here?" Storm asked a few minutes later when there had been no response.

"Lets find out," Using her telekinesis Jean worked the lock and pushed the door open. Dragging Storm into the room she froze, shocked to her core. "Oh my God!"

"You said it!" Storm said glancing around in amazement. The room was a tangled mess of identities, it was very obviously Logan's room but the assortment of scarves, gloves, and other items that were reminiscent of Marie was startling. The huge green duffle bag sat on the floor, open and relatively empty, although a stack of magazines was clearly evident through the opening.

Marie's clothes were folded neatly on the dresser, along with a couple of scarves, two pairs of gloves and Logan's tags. Reaching down Jean picked up the tags and glanced at Storm, "Storm have a look."

Reaching up, Storm caught the chain and tag easily before turning it over in her palm and staring down at it. It was Logan's tag, but with Logan's tag was another, one made of a different metal. The engraving was hard to read in the low light and she moved to the lamp, turning it on before glancing back at the tag.

"Marie, my angel, my Rogue," Storm glanced at Jean. "This isn't Logan."

"I know," Jean said as she moved things aside, noting the sharp piece of metal with a couple of score marks in it, "Looks like he's kickin' Brotherhood ass and taking names."

"What the heck is that?" Storm asked as she looked at it over Jean's shoulder. The rough edged metal was jagged and one side was covered in blood, but it was the rather crudely printed name on it that drew a shudder. "Looks like he took it from.."

"Mystique," Jean looked at Storm. "We need to talk to the professor."

"Yeah," Storm pulled out the com-link she carried and dialed it.

"Xavier's School for the Gifted," Scott's voice was soothing, pleasant even but Storm rolled her eyes.

"Hey Scott, look is the Professor available?"

"Uh yes he is, just a moment Storm."

Waiting impatiently for the Professor to come on the line, Storm watched Jean moving around the room, scanning the stacks of magazines, the map that was laid out on the table.

"Charles here," the masculine voice came on the line. "What is it Storm?"

"We have a problem sir," Storm started. "We're in Logan's room but.."

"But?" Charles frowned.

"Um well sir, its more like a shrine than anything."

"I was afraid of that,"Charles whispered softly. "Is Logan there?"

"No," Storm glanced at Jean who was standing at the window. "Any ideas on where he is Jean?"

"Could be he went after Sabertooth."

"Professor, we think he might have gone after Sabertooth."

"I hope not. I'll try to find him with Cerebro, just sit tight. I'll call you back as soon as I find him."

"Yes sir," disconnecting Storm looked at Jean. "Well your theory on him wanting you was a little off.."

Laughing softly Jean shook her head, "Yeah I'd say so. This isn't something I would think Logan would do. He's too much a loner, too much a loose cannon."

"Perhaps, but then you have to see it from his stand point I guess. He lost Rogue, lost the one thing in this world he desperately needed. Perhaps the man we thought we knew, wasn't who he appeared."

"What are you talking about?"

"Obviously he and Rogue were close, I mean how many times did you go out of your way to touch her, and I was no different. No I think that he cared more about her than he did anyone or anything else."

"If that's the case, we're in a little deep," Jean replied firmly. "Because the man he was, and the man he is just pulled in."

"Oh shit!" Jean stared at Storm as she stood frozen to the spot, it was rare that Storm cussed, so rare in fact that to hear the other woman swear was something to which she had no idea how to respond.

"We can't run, it's not like he isn't going to know we were here."

"Yeah," Storm looked pained. "Get those darts of yours ready, cause I don't see him being over joyed to see us."


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Stomping up the stairs, Logan reached for his room key as he crossed the walkway. Tomorrow he would pack up and head north across the border, tonight he just wanted to sleep. Freezing as he realized that the smells hitting him were familiar he growled low in his throat.

Moving quickly he tried the doorknob of his room and twisted it. The fact that the door opened easily under his hand only angered him even more. Stepping into the room he stared at Jean and Storm who were standing looking back at him with guilty expressions on their faces.

"What do you want?" he growled, his claws coming out without hesitation. Spotting the tag still in Storm's hand he snarled and stepped forward, reaching for it at the same time as his other hand came up.

Raising a hand quickly, Jean halted his advance and glanced at Storm who promptly dropped the tag and stepped back. "Get the professor on the line, tell him we found Logan."

"You better use one of those darts," Storm said as she dialed the mansion again, the low angry growl from Logan getting on her nerves. "Before he just quits being so nice and breaks free."

"How the hell," Jean said then shut up quickly when Logan shifted within her grasp. Damn it, he was getting angrier by the minute. "Never mind."

"Xavier's.." Scott sighed, "Hey Storm. Professor's still in Cerebro."

"Tell him we found Logan," Storm said then stumbled into the wall as Jean bumped into her. "Oohmph.."

"Sorry," Jean muttered struggling to keep her focus as Logan struggled in her mental induced cage. "We're going to have dart him, Storm would you please load the friggin thing!"

"Great," Storm said as she tucked the link between her ear and shoulder, "Look Scott tell him we got Logan and we're on our way back soon okay!"

"Any idea on Sabertooth?" Scott asked seriously.

Jean looked at Storm and both women turned to Logan who was covered in blood, the rips in his clothes not enough to create the amount of blood on his arms and hands, "Probably dead by now."

"I'll pass along the message," Scott promised as the line went dead and Storm dropped the link to load the darts up with the tranquillizers.

"Now Logan, just calm down," Jean sighed uneasily. "We aren't here to cause a problem..."

"No?" Logan growled, shifting slightly as Jean's concentration slipped. He didn't want them here, he didn't want them anywhere around Marie's things. Feeling her grip loosen even more he shifted, his arms coming free and he cracked his neck easily. Moving toward the two women who backed up a step, he barely felt the dart sink into the muscle of his chest. All he saw was them step back, slamming the bathroom door in his face even as the room started to tilt and darkness fell.



Chapter Four

"Hello Storm, Scott tells me you got Logan," Charles said into the phone. For some reason, the women were calling him on a regular phone and he was curious to know why.

"In a manner of speaking," Storm replied and sighed, "Talk to Jean."

"Hello Professor," Jean started.

"Jean. What is going on?"

"Well we've got Logan, and he is out for the count."

"You drugged him?"

"Um yes," Jean said sinking onto the edge of the bed and staring at the room with a sigh. "We had no choice Professor. I have no doubt that he would have gone after one or both of us if we hadn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Wolverine was in full control, and when he came in to see us in the middle of this umm.."

"How long till you get back?"

"A couple of hours," Jean said as Storm went to work gathering all of the items in the room. "Storm's collecting everything from the room, and as soon as we're done we'll take Logan's truck back to where we left the Blackbird and head home. I don't know what to do about Logan's truck though, driving it back would take days.."

"Is there room for it in the Blackbird?"

"Sir?" Jean paused, "No. And I can't move it around so it'll fit thought of it already. No I have a feeling that the best thing would be to just leave it here, get him back there and then Bobby and Scott can come out here and collect the truck tomorrow night."

"What is tomorrow?"

"Saturday," Jean replied.

"Fine, just be sure to get him back here alive!"

"Will do."


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Leaning back in his chair, Charles glanced at Scott uneasily. "I don't like this. Not one little bit."

"What sir?"

"Logan killed Sabertooth," Charles said softly.

"You certain?"

"Very, Logan's riding high on the kill right now. Somehow I doubt if he's going to be happy to wake up here again. He has no intention of coming back here, and he may prove to be dangerous."

"Or he may retreat further into the silence, into the darkness that's eating away at him," Scott suggested softly. "We both know he isn't exactly the most reasonable person. This shows that very clearly."

"I know," Charles said and watched Scott walk away, heading for the bay to help Jean and Storm when they got Logan back to the mansion.


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Blinking Logan sat up, or rather he tried to sit up and found to his horror that he was once again in a lab. Fuck what the hell had happened, turning his head he sniffed and swore profusely as he realized he was back at the mansion.

With the pounding in his head he glared at the figure moving through the foggy haze in his vision toward him, "Let me up," he ground out.

"Logan, Logan." the soft voice was achingly familiar and he flinched visibly.

No it wasn't possible, this wasn't Marie. It was a trick of some sort.

"Don't believe your ears?" Marie smiled at him gently, settling a hip against the edge of the bed.

"No," Logan grunted as he struggled with the bonds holding him down.

"Sorry baby, I can't let you up," Marie looked pained at his struggle, "I didn't put them on, Jean did."

"Yeah well when I get my hands on her, I'm going to gut her like a fish."

"Seems to me you've been doing that a lot lately," Marie said looking studiously at her nails, her hands bare of gloves, the pale pink nightgown she'd been wearing the night he'd stabbed her wrapped around her easily.

"What?"

"Gutting people like fish," Marie shot back with a smile and leaned a little closer to him, "But I don't mind. I know why you were doing it, know what you've been going through."

"God," Logan smacked his head on the bed beneath him and swore, "I screwed up.."

"No Logan, you didn't screw up. You did what you could, you did more than anyone else in this world was willing to do. You shouldn't feel guilty.."

"But.."

"It's okay, I know more than you'll ever be able to say," Marie whispered softly a smile touching her lips. "I loved you to, you know. I loved who you are, who you were trying to be. I knew you didn't want to hurt me. Just as I knew that when you promised to look after me what you were giving up willingly."

"I had to."

"No, no you didn't Logan," Marie sighed, "But that isn't the issue here. The issue here is something else. You can't keep doing this to yourself. You have to let go.."

"NO!" Logan snarled fighting the straps even harder until with a groan they broke, letting him out of the prison he'd been in. "No, I lost you once. I won't do it again!"

"Logan.."

"No. I won't let you go, I can't!"

"You deserve a life Logan, not to be tied to me.."

"Stop it!" Growling Logan grabbed her arms, his hands tightening painfully even as he snarled at the thought. "I deserve the right to be with you! I deserve a chance to have what I want!"

"What would you do if you had that chance?" Marie whispered softly, sadly. "If you could go back in time and change anything in this life what would you change? The lab? The years without knowing who you were? Meeting me? Stabbing me? Liberty Island? What would you change Logan?"

"I would change it so you didn't die," Logan whispered painfully, wrapping her in a hug that threatened to crush her bones. "I would have been smarter, faster.."

"You can't change fate Logan. It was my time!"

"NO! No it wasn't you hadn't even began to live!"

"Who would want to live with my mutation?" Marie shot back. "I couldn't TOUCH!"

"There's more to touch than skin to skin! You touched me!"

"Logan..I know you loved me," Marie sighed, "I understand that you feel hurt by my death but.."

"You aren't dead," Logan ground out. "You're just sleeping.."

"Logan say it."

"You are NOT DEAD!" Logan screamed. "I won't let you die.."

Blinking Marie stepped back eying him. No, no he wouldn't let her fade away, let her just die. Because to him she was more than just a kid who he picked up, a girl he offered his protection. To him she was Marie, the only positive in a life of negatives for him. The only light in a world of shadows, the only feeling he had. She completed Logan, and by losing her he was slowly losing a part of himself that he could never get back.

Shaking her head sadly she cupped his cheek, "Logan rest for now okay. Rest.." the soft soothing tone had him sinking to the floor next to the bed and he closed his eyes, tears leaking past his control. "Its gonna be okay."

Shaking his head, Logan sat there letting the tears flow, something told him that it was his day for mourning. That today was Saturday and he could mourn for his loss, even if he knew she was wrong, nothing was ever going to be okay again.


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"How is our patient today?" Charles asked rolling into the med lab and stopping next to Jean who was watching a monitor.

"Well his mind's active," Jean said pointing to several lines on the screen. "Its like he's stuck in a deep rem sleep."

"Have you tried entering his mind?" Charles asked.

"No," Jean looked uneasily at the Professor. "I thought about it but I can't.."

"Why not?"

"The last time I did the images I saw plagued me for a month, I'm a little scared that if I go back into his head I may project that fear into him.."

"I'll do it then."

"You certain this is a good idea?" Jean asked a few minutes later as Charles sat at the head of Logan's bed, his hands resting on either side of the man's head.

"This is the only way. You've been back for nearly a week, there has to be some reason he hasn't regained consciousness."

"Very well. I'll monitor the situation but won't interfere," Jean said stepping back and checking her screens, gauges, and various instruments.

Closing his eyes Charles focused, digging past the tangled memories that made up Logan's mind until he reached the most recent memories.

*standing in the room Charles stared at Logan as he sat hunched over on the floor of the med lab, the sobs shaking the other man a testament to the fact that he was in pain. Glancing around Charles moved toward him, kneeling next to Logan and waited.

"No no no.." the soft litany had Charles frowning. What was Logan denying. "She isn't dead! She's just sleeping, just resting. I won't let him kill her! I won't.."

"Logan," like a faint whisper the voice had Charles glancing up to see Marie walking through Logan's mind easily, kneeling next to him. "Logan please.."

"NO!" this time the denial was sharp, brutal as the man in question looked up staring at the girl before him. "You aren't dead Marie, I wouldn't let that happen.."

"Logan you can't keep blaming yourself. It was my time, besides why would I want to go on living when there was no way around the situation?"

"I love you, I will not let you die. Never!" Logan ground out shakily.

"You can't make that choice.."

"Oh yes I can. You aren't dead! I refuse to let you die," Logan snapped back angrily.

"Let me have some peace!" Marie snapped tears in her eyes, "For pity's sake Logan, I didn't want to live with the fact that I could never touch you! Do you know how much it hurts me that you keep refusing to accept this?"

"Yeah, maybe you'll understand how much it hurts me to know that you quit fighting. You didn't deserve.."

"Deserve what?" Marie prodded. "Say it Logan!"

"No."

"SAY IT!"

"NO!" Logan rose to his feet, pacing angrily. " Because I will not accept that.."

"Fine but you can't change what happened!" Marie was adamant. "Can't change what you think went wrong. Think about it, you would have blamed me when you wake up one morning and realized that what you wanted isn't so hot. When you rolled over one morning and realize that the woman laying next to you is fully clothed because her skin could kill you!"

"That will never happen!" Logan snarled angrily. "Because the woman I love is no different than me."

"How do you figure that?" Marie gaped at him.

"Trapped within your own skin. A mutation that doesn't allow you to be normal," Logan whispered. "And a mind that isn't really yours? Sound familiar?"

"You telling me that.."

"You can't kill me Marie, even if you touched me so long that you sucked the life outta me, it wouldn't kill me. My mutation wouldn't let you, it would kick in and start healing long before.."

"I nearly did," Marie whispered. "Twice. The first time Scott had to pull you off me.."

"Yeah well Scooter's got a pounding coming to him.."

"Logan please, let me go. I don't want to see you hurting anymore," there were tears in her eyes, choked tones in her soft whisper.

"I can't," Logan replied just as softly and watched Marie shake her head. He knew she was torn, knew that she wanted to be at peace and yet she couldn't because he couldn't let her go. "I am sorry Marie."

With a sad smile Marie slipped away and Charles eased out of Logan's mind. Sitting up straight Charles looked at Jean and sighed. It looked like a bad situation for all concerned, Logan was entrenched in his own mind.

"Well?"

"He's in a self induced coma," Charles explained. "One that I don't recommend you trying to get him out of, it will create problems."

"How?" Jean asked, curious about a medical condition.

Charles gazed at Logan for a few seconds torn between revealing what he had seen and letting Logan recover on his own, finally making his decision he sighed, "In Logan's mind Marie is alive and well. They can interact, talk, touch, all the things they were never able to do before she was killed. Trying to pull him from that interaction before he's ready will only create problems."

"What would cause that sort of psychosis?"

"As long as Logan can remember he's been alone, emotionally as well as physically. I think that by allowing Rogue past his defenses his emotional state took a sharp turn. He was dealing with a foreign activity and quite possibly, that exposure to raw emotion created an awareness of how alone he was. Frankly, I think Logan wants to feel something and if the only way he can do that is in his mind he's going to do that."

"I'll keep monitoring him Professor, but if he reacts to any stimulus I won't withdraw it."

"Where are his tags?"

"In the bag," Jean pointed to the duffel back that sat under the edge of a desk in the corner of the room. "We figured it was better to have them here than anywhere else."

"Very good. Keep me posted."

"Yes sir," Jean stared at Logan feeling the punch of his sorrow, the way he was torn without hesitation. It appeared they really hadn't known the man behind the bluster and instinctual actions they had seen.



Chapter Five

Darkness had fallen when the silent alarm in the med lab drew Jean and the Professor from their beds. Reaching the med lab at nearly the same time they hurried inside only to freeze, confusion in their expression.

Logan hadn't moved from his resting place, and there was no one else in the room but him and yet fresh blood was oozing down the sides of the bed.

"Dear God what happened?" Jean said rushing forward grabbing for her gloves as she struggled to stop the bleeding. Staring at the wounds she glanced sharply at Charles, "This doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?"

"How could he have stabbed himself? These marks are clearly incisions from his claws," Jean said examining them, realizing even as she did so that they were healing.

"A ritual perhaps?" Charles suggested. "Could be he's projecting his dreams, his memories.."

"I don't think so," Jean said as she whirled to check her monitors, making sure the sensors were recording properly. "Look Professor, there was a jump in his brain waves not more then half an hour ago.."

"I'll try taking another walk through his mind," Charles declared easily. "Please just keep monitoring him."

"Of course."

Moving slowly, Charles forced his thoughts from his mind and closed his eyes, relaxing and slipping into Logan's mind rather easily.

"LOGAN!" Marie's voice held terror and anger as she stood there staring at where he was slowly picking himself off the floor, his chest shredded.

"What?"

"Don't you dare do that again! I will not allow this stupidity to continue.."

"Fine then, you get your ass back into your body and get back to living," Logan snarled staring at her. "Because I am not going to stop doing this until you.."

"Logan please!" Marie's face was ashen and tears were streaking down her face as she hurried to kneel in front of him. "Logan even if I were alive they wouldn't let us be together."

"So we'll leave here. Nothing saying we have to stay here. I know you need your education Marie, need to feel normal.."

"I feel normal with you. I know what goes through your mind when you see me," Marie sighed tearfully. "But coming back to life isn't easy. There is no way.."

"That's the deal. You get up outta that cold grave and come back to me or I keep trying to join you."

"Logan!" Exasperated Marie stared at him then shook her head, "It isn't up to me."

"Don't care.."

"Ooh you are impossible!"

"I love you too."

Shaking her head Marie tried to hide her smile as she leaned against him. " Thank you."

"For what?"

"Stopping. For giving me a ride, something more than what I had."

"Shit kid, you had a lot going for you. If you hadn't you wouldn't have put up with me."

"I've never put up with you," Marie smiled at him before turning serious. "Please Logan, you gotta promise me you won't do this anymore."

"A deal is a deal," Logan shot back as Marie rose and glanced behind her.

"I gotta go Logan, I promise I'll be back."

Nodding Logan sat there on the cold floor watching as she faded away. This was the one place where he could have Marie, where he could see her, talk to her, touch her and he had no intention of going anywhere that didn't let him do that. He knew they were trying to get him to wake up, to rejoin them in their world but he preferred the one where Marie was with him.

Shifting he leaned back against the comfortable post he'd been resting against and smiled. The images in his mind clearing, clarifying until he wasn't sitting in the med lab instead he was sitting leaning against a huge spruce tree staring out over a lake.

Withdrawing Charles shook his head, "He's projecting his dreams."

"What? How is that possible?"

"I don't know, but I do know he stabbed himself in his mind and the wounds are obvious.." Charles glanced pointedly at the ground where Logan's blood was congealing.

"There has to be a way to stop this," Jean said softly. "Without causing permanent damage."

"I doubt if I could control it," Charles said. "The Logan in his mind is at peace, his nightmares don't haunt him and that is reason enough for me to hesitate. Besides, it isn't like he's going to uh have much success. His mutation won't allow him to die."

"I know," Jean sighed rubbing her head tiredly, "I just hate seeing him hurt himself over this."

"I know."


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After cleaning up the mess, Jean headed back to her bed snuggling in against Scott and closing her eyes. She smiled as she felt his hand capture hers and pull it snug around his chest, she loved this man.

"How's fuzzy doing?"

"Tried to kill himself," Jean whispered sadly.

"Not good."

"It's only gonna get worse," Jean smothered a yawn, "Cause he wants to be with her."

"Have to figure a way around that."

"Yeah."

Shivering slightly Logan glanced around at the strange prickling under his skin. Rising to his feet he turned away from the lake and started walking, following a rather beaten path back into the brush even as his heart began to pound.

Stopping in the edge of a clearing he froze, Marie sat on a log staring at him with a serious look on her face. "Logan."

"Marie, what's going on?"

"Come sit with me. We need to talk."

Moving over to her, Logan settled next to her and waited.

"I want to ask you something," Marie started softly, her accent drawing the words out sexily.

"Okay."

"Remember when I asked you what exactly you would change about the past?"

"Yeah," Logan nodded with a slight frown. "Of course I do."

"You said you would change it so I hadn't died," Marie sighed. "But exactly how would you change it? Would you not give me a ride? Or maybe you.."

"I'd be faster at Liberty Island," Logan whispered. "Getting to you, make sure you were safe."

"Why not change the train? Or stabbing me? Or any of the other things in this world that have happened that are bad.."

"Because as bad as stabbing you was, it unlocked the door that kept me from understanding. The train - what could we change? Magneto would simply have waited until another moment, another time to do it. And giving you a ride was the only thing I could do Marie, because you knew what I was and you weren't scared of me. No, no if I would change anything it would be in letting you down at Liberty Island."

Nodding Marie stared at her hands, the paleness of her skin a good indicator of how often the sun was on her flesh, "What exactly would you change about Liberty Island?"

"I wouldn't have been so close to the X-geeks for one thing. Had I gotten up there when Magneto was weakened I could have simply gotten you outta that contraption.."

"But I like my stripes.." Marie teased.

"I didn't say it would be easy baby, just said it would be what I would do. I'd get you out of there, then we could be together."

Marie smiled sadly, "Even with my skin?"

"Fuck your skin. It'll give us a chance to be creative.." Logan grinned at her. "There's a million and one ways around it, precautions that can be taken, measures for safety. Besides, I think if you touched me enough times, you'd gain the control you want or my body would just create an immunity to it. Healing factor is a great thing at times."

Nodding Marie leaned against him staring at the lush vegetation. Even in his mind he was an outdoors kinda guy, preferring the wilds of Canada to the tamed land in the States. It was so easy to figure Logan out, maybe because she had a double dose of him inside her or maybe because with her he was relaxed and the man he wanted to be.

Either way, Marie knew she couldn't keep torturing him like this. Granted she was all for what he was preaching but her fear that he would realize he got the short end of the stick still stuck to her.

"Never realized how nice it is to just sit you know," Logan muttered softly, "We never really got the chance to just sit together and watch the sun set or do anything normal people get to do.."

"Come on Logan, you and I know that you enjoyed kicking Brotherhood ass and takin' names," Marie smiled at him, nudging him with her elbow. "Reason why you're so good at it is cause it's part of who you are. You need the adrenaline, need the rush same as you need this," a pale hand indicated the area they were sitting in.

"I need you more," Logan admitted softly sadly, his eyes haunted as they settled on her. "And this is the only place we have."

Nodding Marie leaned over and kissed his cheek before rising, "Be careful of what you wish Logan, sometimes you have to deal with the consequences."



Chapter Six

Wincing at the sudden sharp pain that seared through his body Logan blinked, he was standing next to Cyclops in black leather at the base of the Statue of Liberty. Glancing around sharply he listened to the evening air, he could hear the faint but distinct rattling of metal against metal and glanced upwards.

"The torch," the words were achingly familiar and Logan shuddered. There was nothing he could do but follow the others, at least until they got separated. Once they were separated he was going for Magneto and Rogue.

Like a movie on replay Logan followed through the events that unfolded until he caught Mystique parading around as Storm.

Sinking the blades in, he twisted, pulling upwards and listening to the ribs crack under the pressure of three adamantium blades. Watching her morph back into who she was he growled and took off running, he had to get to Rogue.

"Where the hell is Logan?" Cyclops muttered as Storm's head popped over the railing above him and Jean.

"I don't know," Jean gasped and glanced at Storm who shook her head.

"We don't have time to worry about him," Cyclops drawled and whirled around to hurry off toward the upper levels.


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Getting to the torch was a lot harder than Logan had originally thought it would be, and when he landed on the rim just beneath the flames he could clearly hear Magneto's pained groan and Marie's terrified scream. Seeing Magneto come out of the friggin machine Logan growled low, only to experience the full brunt of Sabertooth's weight. Shifting, using what he'd learned in that warehouse in Washington, Logan made short work of Sabertooth even as he felt Magneto's weak powers begin to kick in.

Tossing Sabertooth aside, Logan ducked coming up with Magneto's throat in his hand, "Don't even think it asshole," the words were growled out, fury in every syllable.

"Its too late, you can't stop it." Magneto ground out.

"Watch me," Logan snapped shoving him so he went over the edge. Only Magneto's recovering reflexes saved him as he snagged himself a hand hold on a shard of metal sticking out.

The crystalline wave that was spreading barely registered in Logan's mind. All he heard, his entire focus was on Marie who was screaming in pain. Getting up by her was ridiculously easy once Magneto was gone, but by that time Marie's hair had gotten its streaks and she was on the edge of consciousness.

Unsheathing his claws, Logan hit the wires that bound Marie's hands, his blows severing the rings and making them explode out, shattering the night sky. Catching Marie as she slumped, Logan pulled her hands off the handles, pulling off one glove with his teeth and pulling her closer to him.

"Please God, let this work this time," he whispered focusing on Marie, on his feelings for her as he felt the pull start. Gasping at the tearing, searing pain in his body he felt her jerk in his arms, pull back from him even as the darkness invaded his mind and the world went dark.


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Groaning softly Logan blinked up at Jean, "Don't that tickles," swallowing hard, he tried to ignore how dry his mouth was. Tried to get his mind back in working order instead of the fuzzy tangled mess it currently was.

Jean smiled softly, "How you feeling?"

"Fantastic," Logan shot back quickly the sense of deja vu strong.

With a slight nod Jean stared at him, her face haunted, "That was a brave thing you did."

"Did it work?" Logan asked desperately, seeking reassurance that he'd saved her. Holding his breath he waited for an answer even as the seconds ticked by slowly, maddeningly, each one making him that much more uneasy.

"Yes," Jean smiled softly. "I think she's a little taken with you."

Logan smiled softly, closing his eyes and swallowing, "Feelings mutual," he whispered softly. "How's the professor?"

"Good." Jean said with a soft sigh, "Logan.."

Turning his head Logan looked at Jean for a moment, "What?" he asked, knowing she was waiting for him to admit something or other.

"How'd you know?"

Smiling Logan shrugged, struggling into a sitting position and glanced past Jean's shoulder to see the familiar figure standing just inside the doorway. "Sometimes you get lucky," he muttered as Marie smiled at him and hurried forward.

Pulling her into a hug he held on tightly, this time he hadn't failed her. This time he'd saved her life and he didn't care what anyone thought. He was barely aware of Jean walking out of the room a puzzled look on her face.

"There are consequences to making wishes," Marie whispered. "Just so you know, you're stuck with me now."

"I think I can live with that," Logan whispered softly. "For a very long time."



Epilogue

From his office Charles watched the scene unfold before him with a puzzled smile. Sitting beneath the heavy oak tree Logan and Marie who had become inseparable since Liberty Island were wrapped together watching the other students.

For some reason the pair had taken to sitting out there every Saturday, Marie leaning back against Logan as they discussed something he wasn't privy to. Leaning back he watched them a while longer, his mind curious yet he refused to reach out and investigate.

"So how ya liking living these days?" Logan whispered softly against her hair.

"A lot better than dying," Marie replied feeling his hands trailing across her waist, pulling her a little closer. "How about you?"

"I like living a lot better to," Logan admitted pulling something out of his pocket and staring at it intently. A moment let he dropped the chain around Marie's neck and smiled into her hair. "A whole helluva lot better."

Glancing down Marie noted the dog tags around her throat and smiled as she picked them up to study them. If memory served her correctly, Logan had only one tag, but this chain held two. Tipping it slightly she laughed softly, "Marie, my angel, my Rogue," she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Figured you should have them," Logan shrugged sheepishly, "You've got everything else of mine."

"Thank you," Marie whispered softly her eyes serious.

"For a hunk of metal?"

"For not letting go," Marie whispered softly, her eyes filling with tears. "For not letting me slip away."

"If I had've I'd have lost everything," Logan replied pulling her back against him. "I would rather die than lose you."

"I know." Marie whispered staring down at the tags around her neck. She did know, she knew everything. Knew what it was like to watch Logan struggle with grief so intense that he couldn't function. To watch him fall back into the darkness that owned a piece of his soul, granted with each day they shared that darkness faded but she knew. Nobody else knew, no one would ever know it but Logan loved her enough to cheat death herself out of the prize.

Snuggling deeper into his warmth, Marie smiled to herself even as she stared at the tags in her palm. Maybe next week she'd tell him her little secret, but then perhaps later today she'd tell him she could touch him and only him - her penalty for wishing. For now, she just held on and let the soft whispers on the wind sooth her, and dry the tears on both their faces.