November 14, 1922, Orient Express, some miles outside Vienna, Austria
They made their way through the snow slowly, lifting one foot over it with each step. The white substance clung to her legs, seeped in through her stockings, and Marie thought she'd never been so cold, wished for a hot Mississippi summer. The flakes continued to fall and she watched as they settled on his dark coat. Logan was looking straight ahead, not at her, but his hand was clasping hers painfully.
He stopped suddenly, looking around as if he'd heard something, his gaze surveying the area. If he saw something important he did not comment on it and a moment later they were once again walking to the main car.
Marie slid open the door to her compartment and was surprised to see Raven sitting inside, cigarette holder in hand, scowl on her face. "Where have you been?" she asked, seemingly bored.
For a long moment Marie stood, completely disbelieving of the woman sitting in front of her. Without saying a word, she shook her head and began undressing. She removed her linen coat – ruined, she thought – and kicked off her shoes, aware that her stepmother was talking, unable and unwilling to listen.
As she began unbuttoning her skirt, she felt long, hard fingers encircle her wrist. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," Raven hissed. "Where is your father?"
Marie pulled her arm away quickly, still feeling the indentations of the fingertips on her wrist. Defiant brown eyes met steely green. "I don't think you really care to know that Raven, otherwise you would have been out there with me when Logan came to talk to us." She took one step back, resumed the task of discarding her wet clothes without talking her eyes off Raven Darkholme. "I don't think you've ever cared what happened to him, so there's no use pretending with me."
The older woman turned away and moved back to her seat. She looked oddly abashed, something Marie had never witnessed before. "I know I should have gone with you," Raven said, shakily bringing her cigarette to her mouth. "I just had a terrible headache, and you're always so much better with these sorts of things…" Her words trailed off, as if she had no clear conception of what she was saying.
By this time, Marie had donned a pair of trousers she used for skiing, and a heavy woolen sweater. She was tying the laces on her boots when she finally responded to her stepmother's question. "Father has been kidnapped, Raven. By Eric Lensherr." Her voice quavered on the final words and she prayed Raven hadn't heard the momentary weakness. If there was anyone in the world she didn't want thinking her weak, it was Raven.
A gasp escaped Raven's lips and Marie looked up in time to see the older woman bring her hand to her mouth. She looked shocked at least, thought Marie. She didn't think Raven loved her father, but maybe there was something that held her to him besides his money. "Kidnapped?" was her soft response, tinged with horror and confusion - the reply of a concerned spouse or a consummate actress, Marie wasn't entirely sure which.
"Yes." Marie opened her trunk and began searching for another coat, something that would serve her better than the one she had hastily discarded but a few minutes before, one that would keep hypothermia at bay when facing the cold, wet snow.
Raven was pacing across the small compartment, shaking her head and muttering to herself. "This isn't possible," she said. "Eric… How could this possibly be?"
Without thinking, Marie replied, "I don't know, Raven. I wish I did."
Stopping abruptly, Raven turned her gaze toward Marie. Her eyes traveled the length of her stepdaughter's body and she asked, "What are you doing? Why are you wearing that?"
It occurred to Marie that it was best for Raven not to know anything, that the more people knew, the more complicated and dangerous it would become. After all, Logan had promised not to say anything to Xavier. But one look at Raven - standing slightly hunched over, a perfectly manicured nail tapping against her teeth – made her question her decision. Raven was, after all, her father's wife. "I have to go look for him. Logan thinks he may not be far from here." Marie was proud of herself for sounding as calm and collected as she wasn't.
"Logan? Who is this Logan? That man who told you your father was kidnapped? How do we know he isn't lying? How do we know he hasn't kidnapped your father himself, and is after you as well? How can you be so stupid as to trust a complete stranger, Marie?" Raven's voice became shrill, as it often did when she was exasperated. In a matter of seconds she had gone from worried to enraged. Her hands were wrapped around Marie's forearms, and Raven was beginning to squeeze with each word she uttered. "I can't let you go out there. This is very serious and we have to inform the chef du train immediately. He must be able to bring someone out here, police, anyone - "
Marie pushed Raven's hands away again, surprised by her agitation. "Lagier already knows, Raven. And there won't be any police coming here, not anytime soon. The train can't even leave, Raven, or have you forgotten? We're absolutely trapped here and if I don't do something now, I'm going to lose my father!" She remembered there had been something important in her discard linen coat and bent down to examine the pockets. Inside was her father's pocket watch. She squeezed it briefly and placed it in the coat she was now wearing.
She turned to leave when her stepmother's voice stopped her. "Wait! Where are you going? Back outside? That's insane!"
The door had slid behind her when Marie finally deigned to answer the question. "Right. Back outside and into the woods."
Logan entered his compartment to find Charles Xavier inside, sitting in his wheelchair, eyes closed, and chin resting on interlaced fingers.
Moving silently, Logan shrugged out of his coat and began unbuttoning his shirt. "You awake, Chuck?" he murmured.
The lack of response was Logan's answer. He quickly changed into dry clothes.
He was scouring through one of Xavier's trunks for tools when Scott Summers walked in. "You!"
Logan turned around slowly, careful not to show his chagrin over being caught.
"What are you doing here?" Scott asked. "We've been looking everywhere! Where's Miss Darkholme?"
"Changing," was Logan's simple reply before turning back to his previous business. He wasn't going to allow the boy to waste any valuable time.
"Changing? Logan, what in Hell have you been doing?" Scott's voice was getting closer and Logan hoped he wasn't looking for a confrontation. He really didn't think he would be able to walk away from one just then.
"Yeah, changing, and I really don't think I feel like telling you what we've been doing." He had his back turned to Summers but he could feel the man standing perilously close.
"Don't ignore me, Logan." It took one hand on his shoulder to send Logan over the edge and before he knew it, he had the other man pinned to the opposite wall of the compartment, one hand on his neck, the other clenched and poised above his face. "Get off my back, boy, if you know what's good for you."
"Logan!"
Charles Xavier's voice cut through Logan's sudden rage. He let go of Scott, who was left to rub his throat, gasping for breath.
"Logan, I think you owe us an explanation."
Logan remained motionless, anger still visible on his face. His eyes met Xavier's briefly before he turned back to searching the trunk.
"Logan?"
"Don't you see, Professor? This is just what I've been telling you all along. This man is not trustworthy. The first major confrontation he's involved in and he won't even - "
"Scott, please," Xavier interrupted. "Logan, you are currently under my employ. Whatever is happening, you must inform me."
"You want to know what's happening?" Logan replied, not turning to look at the two men. "There's a girl out there missing her father, a man who's been kidnapped by someone you know, Chuck. Now, whether you like it or not, that smells funny – to the girl, at least. I don't think you can blame her for that. I am helping her. You can fire me if you want. Right now, I don't give a shit. If you're in the business of helping people, /Professor/, then you'll let me do this, because you damn sure can't.
Scott snorted loudly. "You're going to help her? Just how are you going to do that, by going out in that storm? Professor, he'll get himself and Miss Darkholme killed, and he doesn't `give a shit'."
"Logan," Xavier said, "if you think you can help her, then you're going to have to trust me, trust my judgment. You've trusted me before and I ask you do so again. I need to know what you're planning, so that we can aid you in any way we can."
It was a long moment before Logan replied. "All right, Chuck, but you have to promise" he turned to stare at Scott "that you'll let me do things my way, and that you'll keep off my back."
A dirty glass filled with water and hard piece of bread were placed before Robert Darkholme. "Sorry, mon ami, but it was the best I could do."
"I'm not hungry," was the response.
"Suit yourself, but you'll get hungry later and I guarantee Lensherr ain't going to give a damn."
"Why would you?" Darkholme asked cautiously.
"Me? Well, that all depends on you. I might not in a while. Or I might." Remy LeBeau reached into his pocket and smiled. He shook his head. "Bad habits, eh? They die hard. No more paper, unfortunately."
Darkholme moved his hand slowly to the inside pocket of his jacket. He retrieved a silver case and held it up.
Remy grinned. "Now, why didn't I think of that?" He snatched the case from the other man and opened it quickly. "Ready-made, monsieur? That is truly the mark of a rich man."
"About giving a damn?"
"Yeah," Remy inhaled. "About that," he exhaled. "I'm afraid a few cigarettes won't do it."
"I assumed as much," said Darkholme tiredly. "Let's discuss what will…"
"Hey. You ready?"
"Yes." She glanced at his companions. "Are they coming? I thought you said - "
"No. They aren't coming. It's you and me. But we might need help with a few things, and they can help."
"Oh."
"It'll be fine."
"I know."
"They're going to follow us until we find out if there's anything left to track. That way, they'll know where we're headed."
"All right."
"Can you carry a few things?"
"Yes."
"Good." He slid open the door and let her step out first. His gaze moved from her to Scott and Jean, who were standing behind him. "Let's go."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry this was so long in coming. I hope some of you still remember it.