”Logan?” She called out his name. Only sounds coming from the darkness of the room were ragged breathing, occasional grunts and sound of flesh impacting against something solid.
“Logan?” She called again and fumbled with the light switch. Turning it would probably be a bad idea. You didn’t go around messing with other people’s chosen scenarios in Danger Room. But she had to see him.
“Logan, I’m turning the lights on, okay?” And finally he answered.
“Wait up. I’m done for now. Coming out.”
She heard him approaching, then he stepped out of the shadows in to the light. Darkness seemed to cling to him, reluctant to let go, lingering in his eyes and resting heavily upon his shoulders.
“Go to sleep.”
“I was thinking we could go for a ride.”
“No, Logan. You have to go to sleep. You can’t keep going on like this. You need to rest.”
It had been too easy. Professor had managed to erase most of his memories from the time he spent in the lab. Only small bits and pieces still lingered, but professor was sure that within time he would be able to purge even those remnants from Logan’s mind. Now those small fragments were surfacing at odd moments, making Logan lash out in rage or reducing him to a quivering, scared wreck of a man.
“Ride first. I’m too wound up to sleep. You coming?” Logan asked.
“Do I even have a choice…” She muttered under her breath, bolting after him before he disappeared round the corner. Logan stopped abruptly and she barreled against his back.
“You do have a choice. You always have,” he spoke with a silent voice turning slowly around to look at her. She sat on the floor where collision with him had thrown her, and suddenly Logan looked not only tired and worn, but positively threatening, towering over her, dark eyes scanning every inch of her before settling to look straight in to hers.
“Are you coming or not?”
Just a few weeks ago they would have been able to joke about his words. They would have been able to throw in some adolescent bit of humor, both snickering and laughing, Marie telling him she wouldn’t be coming anytime soon if he didn’t get to work. But these weeks spent dangling on all too thin line between reality and hallucinations had stripped them from all remnants of playfulness. Every word was carefully considered before spoken out loud. Every move and gesture overly careful. Anything or anyone could in avertedly launch an unwanted reaction. Depending of the nature of the surfacing memory provocateur could get gut full of razor-sharp adamantium, or hands full of scared out of his wits Wolverine.
“I’m coming. Help me up?” She held out her hand. He took it and pulled her up.
“Go and get changed. Don’t want you to freeze your ass off. I’ll wait in the garage,” Logan grunted.
She rubbed her wrist absently while walking towards her room. She knew she would have finger shaped bruises around it soon enough. She would have to hide them from Logan. He would spend days cooped up in to the cabin, not letting her in, not letting her close to him and beating himself up over those marks he had put on to her by accident.
“Ready?” She heard him asking. He gave her no chance to answer, and she clung to him for dear life of her when bike tore out from the garage and down the driveway. They were approaching gates too fast, they were opening too slowly. She heard a loud thud and Logan flinched when they squeezed past heavy iron bars, but he didn’t stop. Road opened in front of them, dark and empty stretch of asphalt glistening from dew. She relaxed a bit, laid her head against Logan’s back and locked her hands around his waist. It would be a while before he would be able to stop the bike.
“You should be more careful,” she admonished him lightly, eyeing the torn knee of his jeans. Skin underneath was flawless, but blood clung to denim, coloring the torn part dark red.
“Stop fussing. It was just a scratch. It won’t kill me.”
“What about me? That scratch could have killed me. Or crippled me.”
“You have a choice. You don’t have to tag along,” Logan muttered, guilt creeping over his features.
“Really? Do you seriously think you could make it on your own? Look at you! You’re a mess! You don’t eat, you don’t sleep…”
“Stop shouting at me.”
“No. This time you’ll listen what I have to say! I’m sick and tired of this! Youmph…”
“Sick and tired? This isn’t exactly a joyride for me either…” Logan had her pinned to the ground, palm covering her mouth.
“This shit was supposed to be over fucking months ago. That crap wasn’t supposed to stay in me. Xavier promised… He fucking promised to me before I left, that he would take it all out after it was over!” He looked positively pissed off, teeth bared, eyes gleaming from the faint flicker of light stars and moon provided.
“I’m going fucking insane, and all he can fucking do is to sit on his fucking ass, offer apologies and fucking excuses as if they would make this all up to me!”
She lay under him quietly. Not struggling, not trying to talk. When he was this agitated he wouldn’t listen a word she had to say. All she could do was to wait until he calmed down before she could try to reason with him once more.
“He can’t… There’s absofuckinglutely nothing, nothing he can do, nothing he can offer to make it up! This… Shit.” He blinked few times and removed his hand from her face almost forcibly.
“Marie?”
“Yeah?”
“I did it again.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, fuck…” His head dropped, hiding his face to the crook of her neck. His hands slid under her back, and threatening hold from her turned to almost desperate embrace.
“Next time I ask you to come with me, don’t. Don’t come.” He murmured, warm breath tickling the side of her throat. She struggled briefly to free her hands, and curled them around him.
“I have to. Who would bring you back if I wasn’t there with you?” She asked.
“Maybe you shouldn’t bring me back.”
“Logan…”
“Maybe you should just let me go.”
“No! Logan, stop talking like that!”
“Maybe everybody would be better off if I left.”
“Come on, Logan! Since when did you turn in to a wuss? Show me you’re a man!” She tried desperately to stop her voice from trembling.
“Xavier told me there’s nothing he can do anymore.”
“You don’t have to go just because… What?”
They were sitting on the side of the road, bike standing behind them. World was slowly waking up. Sun was rising. Birds chirping in the forest lining the road.
“There’s no way to erase those last shreds. No way to block them.” Logan spoke slowly, smoking a cigar, inhaling the smoke as deep in to his lungs as it was possible.
“There’s no way around it, kid. I’m turning insane.” Just stating the fact.
“Xavier thinks he can postpone it. Buy more time for you guys.”
“Buy more time?”
“More time to figure out how you can put me down for good.”
“Logan!”
“Come on, kid! Think! Do you really think I want to spend rest of eternity as a drooling, muttering maniac?”
“There must be something we can do…”
“There’s nothing. Xavier’s gone through every fucking trick on the book, gone through his every friend and ally… I’m stuck with those memories. Stuck. And it’s getting worse every day.”
“Fine. If you really want to die…” She hissed, bringing her bare hands to his face. Logan turned his head and swatted her hands away.
“Don’t even think about it. You don’t need the shit I got floating around in that head of yours. It’s enough that it drives me nuts.”
“You think it would work?” She asked. Logan frowned thoughtfully.
“Probably. If you held on long enough. At least that’s what the professor thinks.”
“Professor?”
“You were his first option. Told him I would rather wait for the last than take his first offer.”
“Weird. I always thought… No.”
“What?”
“It’s stupid. You’re going to think there’s something wrong with me.”
“I’m hardly in a position to pass judgment.”
“When I manifested… There was an accident. I touched a friend of mine. Bobby. He survived, but it was just a brief brush, and he was in a coma for three weeks. I just kept wishing it had been you there that day instead of Bobby, because you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I thought you probably would have been immune.” Logan’s frown deepened. He stubbed the cigar he was holding.
“Only one way to find it out.” He stuck out his hand.
“Take a hit.”
“This is fucked up!” She screeched, kicking small pebbles and clumps of grass on her way, marching back and forth, both of her hands curled to tight fists on her sides. Logan sat on the ground, re-lit cigar dangling from his fingers, staring at the toes of his boots.
“This is so fucking fucked up that it isn’t funny anymore!”
First touch had been fleeting, just a chaste brush of her index finger, sliding quickly over the back of his outstretched hand. Nothing had happened. She had concentrated harder. Applied more pressure, still careful not to hold on too long. After several tries Logan had thrown away his cigar cursing softly, and grabbed her hands with his own, bringing them flush against his cheeks. They had sat there staring at each other, almost like lovers anticipating a kiss. Minutes had ticked by. Nothing had happened.
“Well, we can tell Xavier to start looking again…” Logan huffed. He sounded actually relieved.
“It’s so fucking unfair! I can suck the whole freaking world dry, why should you be any different?”
“Don’t fret over it. You can push me under a buss and we call it even, okay?”
“Fuck you! Why do you have to be such an asshole? I don’t want you to get hurt! I don’t want you to die!” She screamed. Logan grimaced.
“Stop shouting, goddamned. I’m not deaf.”
“No. You’re just retarded!”
“They fucked up my head. What’s your excuse?”
“Stop! Stop talking and acting like this was nothing! It’s not a fucking joke!” She was practically steaming from pent up rage, but one look in to Logan’s eyes made it evaporate. He was tired. He was scared.
“I fucking know it isn’t a joke. Either you guys find a way to kill me, or I’ll chop you all to pieces because I’m so fucked up that I can’t tell a friend from foe.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
You asked for it. Companion piece to "Cross My Heart..."