He had searched for her for so long and she had been just within his grasp before she had disappeared again. Again. She had disappeared again. He had run down the hall, through the shattered door, and for a moment he had just stood there; his mouth hung open in horror and his body shook in sorrowful tremors. The medical room was in a state of disarray; dozens of syringes littered the floor and crystalline bits sparkled scornfully around the bloody, carelessly strewn body of Rogue, of his precious Marie.
“No,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees upon the cold floor. He brushed his hand across her soft forehead, hoping beyond hope to see it crinkle in stubbornness as she awoke. He squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears escaping to cascade down his face. They hurt his Marie. Hell, they had taken his Marie away from him, the only one who he had ever truly cared about; she had made him whole. For her, and only for her, he was both Logan and the Wolverine. He was her protector, and she was her savior, but he, he didn’t play his part well enough; he didn’t protect her when she really needed it.
He lifted her into his arms and ran his hand through her hair; the white streaks were dyed with crimson blood, her brunette hair was sticky with bits of glass stuck in it. Her face was paler than it had ever been, her eyes were closed in peace and her lips were softly parted. Even in death, she was a goddess and it took all of his willpower not to touch those lips with his.
“No,” he said louder. “No…nonononoNO!”
“Lo-logan,” a weak voice whispered.
Logan’s heart filled with hope. “Hey Marie, it’s gonna be alright. You hear me, it’s gonna be alright.” He took his hand and placed it gently on her face waiting for her to absorb his powers, his life force if needed.
Marie smiled weakly and placed her hand on top of his. “Not…gonna work…was…too strong.” Her gaze drifted over to her side. Lying on the floor was a shattered cure gun. It was half-empty.
“The others will be here soon,” he began desperately, tightening his grip on her hair. “They’ll help you and you’ll be fine.” Nothing of the sort would happen and they both knew it; nobody knew where they were and they were in the middle of nowhere.
“I, I can finally…touch you,” she said stroking his face. “And I, I…wont…hurt…you.”
“Hang in there, Marie,” Logan pleaded.
“I…love you…” Her eyes blazed with honesty and Logan saw her forehead crinkle stubbornly as she struggled to pick her head up. Her lips met Logan’s and while he cried, the Wolverine roared in torture, their tongues encircling each other’s. When they broke apart, he leaned his forehead to her’s.
“I love you too,” he whispered.
She grinned and her eyes sparkled. “I know,” she said breathlessly, and went limp.
Together, Logan and the Wolverine roared and cried out their anguish, a cry that shook everyone, far and near, to the bone. What brought them together, what saved them, and what made them care, was gone. Slowly, he lifted his heavy head; they would not break, they would stay strong to their fated end but only, only for her, for Rogue, for Marie. For his goddess, he would not break.
Sunrise would find him with his goddess draped in his arms, in the wedding style that should’ve been theirs. Her funeral would be worth every inch her title and while he waited to die, he promised not to break. Even in her death, he would protect her.
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