Tentatively, Logan slipped his shaking fingers towards the flap of the envelope and lifted it back. With a deep sigh he leant back against the wall slowly and cracked his neck. Reaching in, he pulled a small piece of paper out of the envelope.
He was already frowning as he brought it up to his face. It was too damn small for his liking. Only one piece of paper and he could tell there were only a handful of sentences written on it. This piece of scrap was supposed to be his salvation, he thought with bitter irony.
Narrowing his eyes he glanced once more at the door Wanda had left through and was glad to see it was still shut. Unusually, delicate he raised the paper up under his nose and breathed it in. It contained the familiar scent of Rogue, albeit, a very stale scent but nonetheless he revelled in it. He’d been unable to deny the effect her scent had on him and despite the circumstances, he relaxed a little as his shoulders straightened up.
The writing and tone was brisk and impersonal. The paper crinkled in his hand as his fingers clenched around it as he read with rapid hunger.
L,
I know that perhaps I am just writing this letter for myself and maybe you won’t even factor into it but it is my intent for you to have something – something to grasp from all this. I don’t know what’s going to happen and I know I don’t deserve your concern but it isn’t for me – all this – I can’t stress that enough. I know you’re no longer with the X-Men and I don’t know what you are doing right now and I don’t assume that I am a part of your wanted life anymore, but I know you – did know you- and there are some things that don’t change and ...
The writing started to drift off and Logan was concerned with how incoherent the letter was, it was a jumbled mess of contradicting thoughts that hadn’t been fully executed. It made him wonder what kind of condition she’d been in when she’d written it.
All those years ago when you would leave and give me your tags for safe keeping, you knew that they’d be safe. You had faith that the mansion would keep me safe, that the X-Men would too. I resented you for some of that but perhaps – you were right. Such a small thing to get lost within its walls. Sometimes, Logan, the mansion – home – was the safest place and I never realized that for a long time. I’d always thought it had been you that kept me safe but sometimes even you can’t keep secrets safe.
I’m sorry, Logan. Sorry for everything.
Marie
The paper crinkled in his hand as he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, his nostrils flared in and out in swift concentration. The letter was too brief and only further confused him. Catching himself, he unclenched his fist and smoothed the paper out with a sudden fever, his eyes catching the end again. She was sorry, she’d written. She’d taken the time to write him that but it still didn’t give him any answers as to why she’d done what she did.
He didn’t want to pretend he wasn’t oblivious to any possible ideas. He knew that certain issues with Jean had been a problem. The thing he’d never understood was that there was never a moment where he felt that they had fallen out of love, she’d still loved him and he wasn’t sure if that helped or only made things worse.
The letter was worthless; it was just a dead woman’s babblings. A sudden urge to rip the letter up took over him but he held it back as he pocketed it.
Turning sharply on his heels he made his way towards the door and opened it with noticeable force. It slammed behind him but he didn’t care as his quick steps took him through the building and past a sleeping Jaime and Wanda. Pietro stirred in one of the chairs and gazed at Logan’s back.
“My shift yet?” he mumbled.
“Yeah,” Logan grunted without turning around and made his way through towards the storage area where he closed the door.
Breathing through his nose deeply he pulled the letter back out and stormed towards the coffin, his hands flipping the lid up with a bang as he stared at Rogue’s body.
“What is this, huh?” he snapped as his eyes were bordering on frantic.
“You write me a letter, a letter of nonsense, Rogue!” he directed towards her body as he started to pace.
“Where’s my god damn answers?” he snapped as leaned over her body.
“I deserve...I deserve...” he paused as his chest heaved, his eyes blinking as he focused on her face. Her serene peaceful face that had no idea what he was doing. His hands fell on top of the ledge of the coffin as his knees sank and his forehead leant against the cool wood. His fingers gripped the inside of the coffin in desperation, the letter still in his hand.
“I didn’t want this,” he whispered hoarsely. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”
Slowly, he banged his head against the wood. “I want to hate you,” he whispered. “So badly...I want to regret picking you up in that truck – but I can’t.”
“Why?” his voice cracked. Tears started to flow down his cheeks but he paid no attention as he finally allowed himself to mourn, mourn the way the man in him wanted to.
Warily, he raised his head as he reached a hand through her silky hair. “Marie,” he gasped.
“My Marie.”
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